But, when the maid departed, "The greatest kingdom upon earth "Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing,And dashed his beard with wine; "I had rather live in Lapland, Than that Swabian land of thine! "The goodliest land on all this earth, It is the Saxon land! There have I as many maidens As fingers on this hand!" "Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!* A bold Bohemian cries; "If there's a heaven upon this earth, In Bohemia it lies. "There the tailor blows the flute, And the cobbler blows the horn, And the miner blows the bugle, * And then the landlord's daughter THE WAVE. FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE. "WHITHER, thou turbid wave Whither, with so much haste, As if a thief wert thou?" "I am the Wave of Life, To wash from me the slime VOL. 1. THE DEAD. FROM THE GERMAN OF STOCKMANN. How they so softly rest, Unto whose dwelling-place Now doth my soul draw near! How they so softly rest, All in their silent graves, Deep to corruption Slowly down-sinking! And they no longer weep, And, by the cypresses Softly o'ershadowed, Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber! 5 THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. FROM THE GERMAN OF MÜLLER. "THE rivers rush into the sea, "The clouds are passing far and high, "I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence, With thy fluttering golden band?" "I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea I haste from the narrow land. "Full and swollen is every sail; I have trusted all to the sounding gale, "And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall, For full to sinking is my house With merry companions all." "I need not and seek not company, “High over the sails, high over the mast, Who shall gainsay these joys? When thy merry companions are still, at last, Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice. “ Who neither may rest, nor listen may, God bless them every one! I dart away, in the bright blue day, "Thus do I sing my weary song, Wherever the four winds blow; And this same song, my whole life long, Neither Poet nor Printer may know." WHITHER? FROM THE GERMAN OF MULLER. I HEARD a brooklet gushing I know not what came o'er me, Downward, and ever farther, Is this the way I was going? What do I say of a murmur? "T is the water-nymphs, that are singing Their roundelays under me. Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur, The wheels of a mill are going BEWARE! FROM THE GERMAN. I KNOW a maiden fair to see, She can both false and friendly be, Beware! Beware! Trust her not, She is fooling thee! She has two eyes, so soft and brown, Take care! She gives a side-glance and looks down, Beware! Beware! Trust her not, She is fooling thee! And she has hair of a golden hue, Take care! And what she says it is not true, Beware! Beware! Trust her not, She is fooling thee! She has a bosom as white as snow, Take care! She knows how much it is best to show, |