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Discovering Diverse Content Through
Random Scribd Documents
 THE RETURN HOME.

1823-4.
1.

On my life, a life of darkness,

Once a vision sweet shone bright;
Now that vision sweet hath faded,
And I’m veil’d in utter night.

When in darkness children wander,

Soon their spirits die away,
And to overcome their terror,
Some loud song straight carol they.

I, a foolish child, am singing

In the darkness spread around;
Though my song may give no pleasure,
Yet mine anguish it hath drown’d.

2.
In vain would I seek to discover
Why sad and mournful am I;
My thoughts without ceasing brood over
A tale of the times gone by.

The air is cool, and it darkleth,

And calmly flows the Rhine;
The peak of the mountain sparkleth,
While evening’s sun doth shine.

Yon sits a wondrous maiden

On high, a maiden fair;
With bright golden jewels all-laden,
She combs her golden hair.

She combs it with comb all-golden,

And sings the while a song;
How strange is that melody olden,
As loudly it echoes along!

It fills with wild terror the sailor

At sea in his tiny skiff;
He looks but on high, and grows paler,
Nor sees the rock-girded cliff.

The waves will the bark and its master

At length swallow up, then methought
’Tis Lore-ley who this disaster
With her false singing hath wrought.

3.
My heart, my heart is mournful,
Yet May is gleaming like gold;
I stand, ’gainst the linden reclining,
High over the bastion old.

Beneath, the moat’s blue water

Flows peacefully along;
A boy his bark is steering,
And fishes, and pipes his song.

Beyond, in pleasing confusion,

In distant and chequer’d array,
Are men, and villas, and gardens,
And cattle, woods, meadows so gay.

The maidens are bleaching the linen,

And spring on the grass, like deer
The mill-wheel’s powd’ring diamonds,
Its distant murmur I hear.

Beside the old grey tower

A sentry-box is set;
A red-accoutred fellow
Walks up and down there yet.

He’s playing with his musket,

While gleameth the sun o’erhead;
He first presents and shoulders—
I would that he’d shoot me dead!

4.
With tears through the forest I wander,
The throstle’s sitting on high;
She, springing, sings softly yonder:
O wherefore dost thou sigh?

“Sweet bird, thy sister the swallow

“Can tell thee the cause of my gloom;
“She dwells in a nest all hollow,
“Beside my sweetheart’s room.”

5.

The night is damp and stormy,

No star is in the sky;
In the wood, ’neath the rustling branches
In silence wander I.

A distant light is twinkling

From the hunter’s lonely cot;
But within, the scene is but saddening,
And the light can allure me not.

The blind old grandmother’s sitting

In her leather elbow-chair,
All-gloomily fix’d like a statue,
Not a word escapeth her there.

With curses to and fro paces

The forester’s red-headed son;
With fury and scorn he’s laughing,
As he throws ’gainst the wall his gun.

The fair spinning-maiden’s weeping,

And moistens the flax with her tears;
The father’s terrier, whining,
Curl’d up at her feet appears.
 6.

When I, on my travels, by hazard,

My sweetheart’s family found,
Her sister and father and mother,—
They gave me a welcome all round.

When they for my health had inquired,

They added, all of a breath,
That they thought me quite unalter’d,
Though my face was pale as death.

I ask’d for their aunts and their cousins,

And many a tiresome friend;
I ask’d for the little puppy
Whose soft bark knew no end.

And then for my married sweetheart

I ask’d, as if just call’d to mind,
And they answer’d, in friendly fashion,
That she had but just been confin’d.

I gave them my very best wishes,

And lovingly begg’d them apart
That they’d give her a thousand greetings
From the bottom of my heart.

Then cried the little sister:

“The small and gentle hound
Grew to be big and savage,
And in the Rhine was drown’d.”

That little one’s like my sweetheart,

So like when she wears a smile!
Her eyes are the same as her sister’s
Which caus’d all my mis’ry the while.

7.
We sat by the fisherman’s cottage,
O’er ocean cast our eye;
Then came the mists of evening,
And slowly rose on high.

The lamps within the light-house

Were kindled, light by light,
And in the farthest distance
A ship was still in sight.

We spoke of storm and shipwreck,

And of the sailor’s strange life,
’Twixt sky and water, ’twixt terror
And joy in endless strife.

We spoke of distant regions,

Of North and South spoke we,
The many strange races yonder,
And customs, strange to see.

The air on the Ganges is balmy,

And giant-trees extend,
And fair and silent mortals
Before the lotos bend.

In Lapland, the people are dirty,

Flat-headed, broad-mouthèd, and small;
They squat round the fire, bake fishes,
And squeak, and speak shrilly, and squall.

The maidens earnestly listen’d,

At length not a word was said;
The ship from sight had vanish’d,
For darkness o’er all things was spread.

8.
 Thou pretty fisher-maiden,
Quick, push thy bark to land;
Come hither, and sit beside me,
And toy with me, hand in hand.

Recline thy head on my bosom,

Nor be so fearful of me;
Thou trustest thyself, void of terror,
Each day to the raging sea.

My heart is like the ocean,

Hath tempest, ebb, and flow,
And many pearls full precious
Lie in its depths below.

9.

The moon hath softly risen,

And o’er the waves doth smile;
Mine arms hold my sweetheart in prison,
Our hearts both swelling the while.

Blest in her sweet embraces

I calmly repose on the strand:
Hear’st thou aught in the wind as it races?
Why shrinks thy snow-white hand?

“O, ’tis not the tempest’s commotion,

“ ’Tis the song of the mermaids below;
“ ’Tis the voice of my sisters, whom Ocean
“Swallow’d up in its depths long ago.”

10.
On the clouds doth rest the moon,
Like a giant-orange gleaming;
Broad her streaks, with golden rays
O’er the dusky ocean beaming.

Lonely roam I by the strand

While the billows white are breaking;
Many sweet words hear I there,
From the water’s depths awaking.

Ah! the night is long, full long,

And my heart must break its slumbers;
Beauteous nymphs, come forth to light,
Dance! and sing your magic numbers!

To your bosom take my head,

Soul and body I surrender!
Sing me dead, caress me dead,
Drain my life with kisses tender.

11.

In their grey-hued clouds envelop’d,

Now the mighty gods are sleeping;
And I listen to their snoring,
Stormy weather o’er us creeping.

Stormy weather! Raging tempests

On the poor ship bring disaster;
On these winds who’ll place a bridle,—
On these waves that own no master?

I the storm can never hinder,

Nor the mast and planks from creaking,
So I wrap me in my mantle,
Like the gods for slumber seeking.
 12.

The wind puts on its breeches again,

Its white and watery breeches;
It flogs each billow with might and main,
Till it howls and rushes and pitches.

From the darksome height, with furious might

Pours the rain in wild commotion;
It seems as though the ancient Night
Would drown the ancient Ocean.

To the ship’s high mast the sea-mew clings,

With hoarse and shrill shrieking and yelling;
In anxious-wise she flutters her wings,
Approaching disasters foretelling.

13.

The storm strikes up for dancing,

It blusters, pipes, roars with delight;
Hurrah, how the bark is springing!
How merry and wild is the night!

A living watery mountain

The raging sea builds tow’rd the sky;
A gloomy abyss here is gaping,
There, mounts a white tower on high.

A vomiting, cursing, and praying

From the cabin bursts forth ’mid the roar;
I cling to the mast for protection,
And wish I was safely on shore.

14.
’Tis evening, darker ’tis getting,
Mist veils the sea from the eye;
The waves are mysteriously fretting,
White shadows are rising on high.

From the billows the mermaid arises,

And sits herself near me on shore;
The veil which her figure disguises
Her snow-white bosom peeps o’er.

She warmly doth caress me,

And takes my breath away:
Too closely dost thou press me,
Thou lovely water-fay!

“My arms thus closely caress thee,

“I clasp thee with all my might;
“In hope of warmth do I press thee,
“For cold indeed is the night.”

The moon from her dusky cloister

Of clouds, sheds a paler ray;
Thine eye grows sadder and moister
Thou lovely water-fay!

“No sadder nor moister ’tis growing,

“Mine eye is moist and wet,
“For when from the wave I was going,
“A drop remain’d in it yet.”

The sea-mew mourns shrilly, while ocean

Is growling and heaving its spray;
Thy heart throbs with raging emotion,
Thou lovely water-fay!

“My heart throbs with raging emotion,

“Emotion raging and wild;
“For I love thee with speechless devotion
 For I love thee with speechless devotion,
“Thou darling human child!”
15.

When I before thy dwelling

At morning happen to be,
I rejoice, my little sweet one,
When thee at thy window I see.

With thy dark-brown eyes so piercing

My figure thou dost scan:
Who art thou, and what ails thee,
Thou strange and sickly man?

“I am a German poet,
“Well known in the German land;
“When the best names in it are reckon’d,
“My name amongst them will stand.

“My little one, that which ails me

“Ails crowds in the German land;
“When the fiercest sorrows are reckon’d,
“My sorrows amongst them will stand.”

16.
The gleam o’er the ocean had faded not,
While the eve’s last rays were flitting;
We sat by the lonely fisherman’s cot,
Alone and in silence sitting.

The waters swell’d, while the mist rose above,

The restless sea-mew was screaming;
From out thine eyes, so full of love,
The tears were quickly streaming.

I saw them falling on thy fair hand,

And on my knees soon sank I,
And then from off thy snow-white hand
The tears with rapture drank I.

Since that hour, my body hath fast decay’d,

My soul is dying with yearning;
I was poison’d, alas! by the hapless maid
With her falling tears so burning.

17.
Up high on yonder mountain
Stands a stately castle alone,
Where dwell three beauteous maidens,
Whose love in turns I have known.

On Saturday Harriet kiss’d me,

While Sunday was Julia’s right;
On Monday Cunigund follow’d,
Who well nigh stifled me quite.

To hold a fête in the castle

On Tuesday my maidens agreed;
The neighbouring lords and ladies
All came with carriage or steed.

But I was never invited,

To your great wonder, no doubt;
The whispering aunts and cousins
Observ’d it, and laugh’d right out.

18.

On the dim and far horizon

Appeareth, misty and pale,
The city, with all its towers,
In evening twilight’s veil.

A humid gust is ruffling

The path o’er the waters dark;
With mournful measure, the sailor
Is rowing my tiny bark.

The sun once more ariseth,

And over the earth gleams he,
And shows me the spot out yonder
Where my loved one was lost to me.
 19.

All hail to thee, thou stately

Mysterious town, all hail,
Who erst within thy bosom
My loved one’s form didst veil!

O say, ye towers and gateways,

O where can my loved one be?
To your keeping of yore was she trusted,
And ye must her bail be to me.

The towers, in truth, are guiltless,

From their places they could not come down,
When she, with her trunks and boxes,
So hastily went from the town.

The gates, however, they suffer’d

My darling to slip through them straight;
A gate is ever found willing
To let a fool “gang her ain gait.”[23]

20.

Once more my steps through the olden path

And the well-known streets are taken,
Until I come to my loved one’s house,
So empty now and forsaken.

How narrow and close the streets appear!

How nauseous the smell of the plaster!
The houses seem tumbling down on my head,
So I haste away, fearing disaster.

21.
 Once more through the halls I pass’d
Where her troth to me was plighted;
On the spot where her tears fell fast
A serpent’s brood had alighted.

22.

The night is still, and the streets are deserted,

In this house my love had her dwelling of yore;
’Tis long since she from the city departed,
Yet her house still stands on the spot as before.

There stands, too, a man, who stares up at her casement,

And wrings his hands with the weight of his woes;
I look on his face with shudd’ring amazement,—
The moon doth the form of myself disclose.

Thou pallid fellow, thou worthless double!

Why dare to mimic my love’s hard lot,
Which many a night gave me grief and trouble
In former days, on this very spot?

23.
How canst thou sleep in quiet,
And know that I’m still alive?
I burst the yoke that’s upon me,
When my olden wrath doth revive.

Dost know the ancient ballad:

How of yore a dead stripling brave
At midnight came to his loved one,
And carried her down to his grave.

Believe me, thou wondrous beauty,

Thou wondrously lovely maid,
I’m alive still, and feel far stronger
Than the whole of the dead’s brigade!

24.
“The maiden’s asleep in her chamber,
“In peeps the quivering moon;
“Outside is a singing and jingling,
“As though to a waltz’s tune.

“I needs must look through my window,

“To see who’s disturbing my rest;
“There stands a skeleton ghastly
“Who’s fiddling and singing his best:

“Thy hand for the dance thou didst pledge me,

“And then thy promise didst break;
“To-night there’s a ball in the churchyard,
“Come with me, the dance to partake.

“He forcibly seizes the maiden,

“And lures her from out her abode;
“She follows the skeleton wildly,
“Who fiddles and sings on the road.

“He hops and he skips and he fiddles,

“His bones they rattle away;
“With his skull he keeps nidding and nodding,
“By the moonlight’s glimmering ray.”

25.
 I stood, while sadly mused I,
And her likeness closely did scan,
And her belovèd features
To glow with life began.

Around her lips there gather’d

A sweet and wondrous smile,
And as through tears of sorrow
Her clear eyes shone the while.

And then my tears responsive

Adown my cheeks did pour—
And ah! I scarce can believe it,
That I’ve lost thee evermore.

26.

Unhappy Atlas that I am! I’m doom’d

To bear a world, a very world of sorrows;
Unbearable’s the load I bear, and e’en
The heart within me’s breaking.

O thou proud heart! thy doing ’twas indeed,

Thou wouldst be happy, utterly be happy,
Or utterly be wretched, O proud heart,
And now in truth thou’rt wretched!

27.
 The years are coming and going,
To the grave whole races descend,
And yet the love in my bosom
Shall never wax fainter or end.

O could I but once more behold thee,

Before thee sink down on my knee,
And die, as these words I utter:
Dear Madam, I love but thee!

28.

I dreamt: the quivering moon gleam’d above,

And the stars cast a mournful ray;
I was borne to the town where dwelleth my love,
Many hundred miles away
And when I arrived at her dwelling so blest,
I kiss’d the stones of the stair,
Which her little foot so often had press’d,
And the train of her garment fair.

The night was long, the night was chill,

And cold were the stones that night;
Her pallid form from the window-sill
Look’d down in the moonbeam’s light.

29.
What means this tear all-lonely
That troubles now my gaze?
Of olden times the offspring
Still in mine eye it stays.

It had its shining sisters,

Who all have faded from sight,
With all my joys and sorrows,
Yea, faded in storm and night.

Like clouds have also fleeted

The stars so blue and mild,
Which into my yearning bosom
Those joys and sorrows once smiled.

Ah! even my love’s devotion

Like idle breath did decay;
Thou old, old tear all-lonely,
Do thou, too, pass away!

30.
The pallid autumnal half-moon
Looks down from the clouds on high;
The parsonage, silent and lonely,
By the side of the churchyard doth lie.

The mother is reading her Bible,

The son on the light turns his eyes,
All-sleepy, the elder daughter
Doth stretch, while the younger thus cries:

“Good heavens, how dreadfully tedious

“The days are! I’m quite in despair!
“ ’Tis only when there’s a burial
“One sees aught of life, I declare!

The mother then says, midst her reading:

“You’re mistaken, four only have died
“Since the time when they buried your father
“By the gate of the churchyard outside.”

The elder daughter says gaping:

“I’ll starve no longer with you;
“I’ll go to the Count to-morrow,
“He’s rich and he loves me too.”

The son bursts out into laughter:

“At the tavern drink huntsmen three;
“They’re making money, and gladly
“Would teach the secret to me.”

The mother then throws her Bible

Full hard in his lanky face:
“Wouldst thou dare, thou accursed of heaven,
“As a robber thy friends to disgrace?”

They hear a knock at the window,

And see a beckoning hand;
And behold outside the dead father
And behold, outside the dead father
In his black preaching-garment doth stand.
31.
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