THE SWORD SONG. Translation of Charles T. Brooks. By CHARLES THEODORE KÖRNER. WORD, on my left side gleaming, ST What means thy bright eye's beaming? To see thy friendly glance. "A valiant rider bears me; Yes, good sword, I am free, And clasp thee to my side, "And I to thee, by Heaven, The trumpet's solemn warning "O blessed, blessed meeting! Come, bridegroom, come for me; Why in the scabbard rattle, "Well may thy prisoner rattle; Stay in thy chamber near, Still in thy chamber bide: Soon, soon I take my bride. Hurrah! "Let me not longer wait: Love's garden blooms in state, With roses bloody-red, And many a bright death-bed." Hurrah! Now, then, come forth, my bride! Come forth, thou rider's pride! Come out, my good sword, come! Forth to thy father's home! Hurrah! "O, in the field to prance The glorious wedding dance! from the French. By THÉOPHILE GAUTIER. HE rain-drops plash, and the dead leaves fall, The swallows gather, and twitter and call, Just listen awhile to the wordy war, Where the ruins of Athens stand. “And every year when the brown leaves fall, I build my nest on the corniced wall, Says another, "My cosy home I fit Dreaming the hours away." Another says, "I prefer the nave 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. |