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THE SWORD SONG. Translation of Charles T. Brooks. By CHARLES THEODORE KÖRNER.
WORD, on my left side gleaming,
What means thy bright eye's beaming?
“A valiant rider bears me;
Yes, good sword, I am free,
“And I to thee, by Heaven,
The trumpet's solemn warning
“O blessed, blessed meeting!
Come, bridegroom, come for me; My garland waiteth thee."
Why in the scabbard rattle,
“Well may thy prisoner rattle;
Stay in thy chamber near,
“Let me not longer wait:
Now, then, come forth, my bride! Come forth, thou rider's pride! Come out, my good sword, come! Forth to thy father's home!
“O, in the field to prance The glorious wedding dance!
How, in the sun's bright beams,
Then let your hot lips feel
Now let the loved one sing;
from the French. By THÉOPHILE GAUTIER.
HE rain-drops plash, and the dead leaves fall,
On spire and cornice and mould; The swallows gather, and twitter and call, “We must follow the summer, come one, come all,
For the winter is now so cold.”
Just listen awhile to the wordy war,
As to whither the way shall tend, Says one, “I know the skies are fair And myriad insects float in air
Where the ruins of Athens stand.
“And every year when the brown leaves fall,
In a niche of the Parthenon
From the Turk's besieging gun."
On a Smyrna grande café,
Dreaming the hours away."
Of a temple of Baalbec; There my little ones lie when the palm-trees wave, And, perching near on the architrave,
I fill each open beak."
"Ah!" says the last, "I build my nest
Far up on the Nile's green shore, Where Memnon raises his stony crest,
And turns to the sun as he leaves his rest,
But greets him with song no more. “In his ample neck is a niche so wide,
And withal so deep and free, A thousand swallows their nests can hide, And a thousand little ones rear beside,
Then come to the Nile with me.” They go, they go, to the river and plain,
To ruined city and town, They leave me alone with the cold again, Beside the tomb where my joys are lain,
With hope like the swallows flown.