* * * * *
Gladsome-looking, head high-lifted,
Up that crag a young man marches;
Strength and peace are on his visage,
In his blue eyes innocence.”
—Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold.
He sings the song which has so often been set to music:—
“’Tis with me as the wild brook
By summer-rains swelled,
Which carries rocks, tree-trunks,
All headlong impelled.
’Tis with me as the tempest
Which knows not its mind,
But something must shatter,
Such might is behind!
’Tis with me as the gold sun
Whose beams are so bland;
Full fain I’d kiss Heaven,
And ocean, and land.
’Tis with me as with sweet songs
Which soft music spread,
And bring living echoes
From rocks that were dead.
’Tis with me as with high God
Who pardons above;
All life is so lovely,
I am love-sick for Love!”