LONGFELLOW'S "REAPER AND THE FLOWERS."
On looking over, a short time ago, a book of German songs, I was much struck by the similarity of thought, and even sometimes of expression, between the above piece from Mr. Longfellow's Voices of the Night, and a song by Luise Reichardt, a few verses of which I subjoin; as perhaps the song may not be known to some of your correspondents.
"It is a favourite theme," as Sir W. Scott says, "of laborious dulness to trace such coincidences, because they appear to reduce genius of the higher order to the usual standard of humanity, and of course to bring the author nearer to a level with his critics."
It is not, however, with the view of detracting from the originality of Mr. Longfellow, that these two small pieces are put side by side; for possibly the song alluded to was never seen by our transatlantic neighbour, but merely for the purpose of showing how the poets treat the same, and certainly not very novel subject.
"DER SCHNITTER TOD.
(Von Luise Reichartdt.)
"Es ist ein Schnitter, der heisst Tod,
Der hat Gestalt vom höchsten Gott.
Heut' wetzt er das Messer,
Es schneid't schon viel besser,
Bald wird er drein schneiden,
Wir müssen's nur leiden.
Hüte dich, schön's Blümelein!
"Was heut' noch grün und frisch dasteht,
Wird morgen schon hinweg gemäht;
Die edlen Narzissen,
Die Zierden der Wiesen
Die schön' Nyagnithen,
Die turkischen Binden.
Hüte dich, schön's Blümelein!
"Viel hundert tausend ungezählt,
Was nur unter die Sichel fällt:
Ihr Rosen, ihr Lilien,
Euch wird er austilgen,
Auch die Kaiserkronen
Wird er nicht verschonen,
Hüte dich, schön's Blümelein!
"Trotz, Tod! Komm her, ich fürcht' dich nicht!
Trotz, eil daher in einem Schnitt!
Werd' ich nur verletzet,
So werd' ich versetzet,
In den himmlischen Garten,
Auf den wir alle warten,
Freue dich, schön's Blümelein!"
J. C. B.