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Title: Homeward Bound
Author: Heinrich Heine [
More Titles by Heine]
1823-1824.
TO
FREDERIKA VARNHAGEN VON ENSE,
THE SONGS OF
HOMEWARD BOUND
ARE DEDICATED IN JOYFUL HOMAGE BY THE AUTHOR
HEINRICH HEINE.
HOMEWARD BOUND.
I.
In my life, too full of shadows,
Beamed a lovely vision bright.
Now the lovely vision's vanished,
I am girt about by night.
Little children in the darkness
Feel uneasy fears erelong,
And, to chase away their terrors,
They will sing aloud a song.
I, a foolish child, am singing
Likewise in the dark apart.
If my homely lay lack sweetness,
Yet it cheers my anxious heart.
II.
I know not what spell is o'er me,
That I am so sad to day;
An old myth floats before me--
I cannot chase it away.
The cool air darkens, and listen,
How softly flows the Rhine!
The mountain peaks still glisten
Where the evening sunbeams shine.
The fairest maid sits dreaming
In radiant beauty there.
Her gold and her jewels are gleaming.
She combeth her golden hair.
With a golden comb she is combing;
A wondrous song sings she.
The music quaint in the gleaming,
Hath a powerful melody.
It thrills with a passionate yearning
The boatman below in the night.
He heeds not the rocky reef's warning,
He gazes alone on the height.
I think that the waters swallowed
The boat and the boatman anon.
And this, with her singing unhallowed,
The Lorelei hath done.
III.
My heart, my heart is heavy,
Though merrily glows the May.
Out on the ancient bastion,
Under the lindens, I stay.
Below me the calm blue waters
Of the quiet town-moat shine;
A boy in his boat rows past me,
He whistles and drops his line.
And yonder the cheerful colors,
And tiny figures, one sees,
Of people, and villas, and gardens,
And cattle, and meadows, and trees.
Young women are bleaching linen;
They leap in the grass anear.
The mill-wheel rains showers of diamonds,
Its far away buzz I hear.
Above on the gray old tower
Stands the sentry house of the town,
And a scarlet-coated fellow
Goes pacing up and down.
He toys with his shining musket
That gleams in the sunset red,
Presenting and shouldering arms now--
I wish he would shoot me dead.
IV.
In tears through the woods I wander.
The thrush is perched on the bough:
She springs and sings up yonder--
"Oh, why so sad art thou?"
The swallows, thy sisters, are able
My dear, to answer thee.
They built clever nests in the gable,
Where sweetheart's windows be.
V.
The night is wet and stormy,
And void of stars the sky;
'Neath the rustling trees of the forest
I wander silently.
There flickers a lonely candle
In the huntsman's lodge to-night.
It shall not tempt me thither;
It burns with a sullen light.
There sits the blind old granny,
In the leathern arm-chair tall,
Like a statue, stiff, uncanny
And speaketh not at all.
And to and fro strides, cursing,
The ranger's red haired son,
With angry, scornful laughter
Flings to the wall his gun.
The beautiful spinner weepeth,
And moistens with tears her thread.
At her feet her father's pointer,
Whimpering, crouches his head.
VI.
When I met by chance in my travels
All my sweetheart's family,
Papa, mamma, little sister
Most cordially greeted me.
About my health they inquired;
Nor even did they fail
To say I was nowise altered,
Only a trifle pale.
I asked after aunts and cousins,
And many a dull old bore.
And after the dear little poodle,
That barked so softly of yore.
And how was my married sweetheart?
I asked them soon. They smiled,
And in friendliest tone made answer
She was soon to have a child.
And I lisped congratulations,
And begged, when they should see,
To give her the kindest greetings,
A thousand times for me.
Burst forth the baby-sister,
"That dear little dog of mine
Went mad when he grew bigger,
And we drowned him in the Rhine."
The child resembles my sweetheart,
The same old laugh has she;
Her eyes are the same ones over,
That wrought such grief for me.
VII.
We sat in the fisher's cabin,
Looking out upon the sea.
Then came the mists of evening,
Ascending silently.
The lights began in the lighthouse
One after one to burn,
And on the far horizon
A ship we could still discern.
We spake of storm and shipwreck,
The sailor and how he thrives,
And how betwixt heaven and ocean,
And joy and sorrow he strives.
We spake of distant countries,
South, North, and everywhere,
And of the curious people,
And curious customs there;
The fragrance and light of the Ganges,
That giant-trees embower,
Where a beautiful tranquil people
Kneel to the lotus flower;
Of the unclean folk in Lapland,
Broad-mouthed and flat-headed and small,
Who cower upon the hearthstone,
Bake fish, and cackle and squall.
The maidens listened gravely,
Then never a word was said,
The ship we could see no longer;
It was far too dark o'erhead.
VIII.
Thou fairest fisher maiden,
Row thy boat to the land.
Come here and sit beside me,
Whispering, hand in hand.
Lay thy head on my bosom,
And have no fear of me;
For carelessly thou trustest
Daily the savage sea.
My heart is like the ocean,
With storm and ebb and flow,
And many a pearl lies hidden
Within its depths below.
IX.
The moon is up, and brightly
Beams o'er the waters vast.
I clasp my darling tightly;
Our hearts are beating fast.
In the dear child's bosom, nestling,
Alone I lie on the sand.
"Hear'st thou the wild winds rustling?
Why trembles thy foam-white hand?"
"That is no wild wind sighing,
That is the mermaid's lay;
And they are my sisters crying,
Whom the sea swallowed one day."
X.
Up amidst the clouds, the moon,
Like a giant orange, beams,
O'er the gray sea shining down,
With broad stripes and golden gleams.
And I pace the shore alone,
Where the billows white are broken.
Many a tender word I hear,
Words within the water spoken.
Ah, the night is far too long,
And my heart throbs fast for pleasure.
Beautiful undines, come forth!
Sing and dance your magic measure.
Take my body and my soul:
On your lap my head shall rest.
Sing to death, caress to death;
Kiss the life from out my breast.
XI.
All in gray clouds closely muffled,
Now the high gods sleep together,
And I listen to their snoring.
Here below 'tis stormy weather.
Stormy weather, raging tempest
Soon the helpless vessel shatters.
Who these furious winds can bridle?
Who can curb the lordless waters?
I can ne'er control the tempest,
Over deck and masthead sweeping;
I will wrap me in my mantle,
And will sleep as gods are sleeping.
XII.
The night wind draws his trousers on,--
His foam-white hose once more;
He wildly whips the waves anon,
They howl, and rage, and roar.
From yon dark height, with frantic might,
The rain pours ceaselessly.
It seems as if the ancient night
Would drown the ancient sea.
Anigh the mast the sea-mew screams,
With hoarse shrieks, flying low.
Its every cry an omen seems,
A prophecy of woe.
XIII.
The storm for a dance is piping,
With bellow and roar and hiss.
Hurrah! how the ship is tossing,
What a merry wild night is this!
A living mountain of water
The sea upheaves with might.
Here an abyss is yawning;
There towers a foaming height.
And sounds of retching and curses
Forth from the cabin come;
And I, to the mast close clinging,
Long to be safe at home.
XIV.
The evening shades are falling,
The sea-fog spreads with night.
Mysterious waters are calling,
There rises something white.
The mermaid comes from the ocean,
Beside me sitting down;
Her white breast's breathing motion,
I see through the gossamer gown.
And she doth clasp and hold me,
In passionate, painful way.
Too close thou dost enfold me,
Thou lovely water fay!
"Within mine arms I hide thee,
With all my strength enfold,
I warm myself beside thee,
The night is far too cold."
Paler the moon is growing
Through shadowy vapors gray.
Thine eyes with tears are flowing,
Thou lovely water fay!
"With tears they are not flowing.
As I from waves did rise,
Forth from the ocean going,
A drop fell in mine eyes."
The sea-mews moan, entreating,
What does the mad surf say?
Thy heart is wildly beating,
Thou lovely water fay.
"My heart is beating sadly
And wild as ever it can,
Because I love thee madly,
Thou lovely son of man."
XV.
When I before thy dwelling,
In early morning pace,
How gladly in the window
I see thy gentle face.
Thy brown-black eyes in pity,
Mine own eyes, wistful scan,
"Who art thou, and what lack'st thou,
Thou strange, unhappy man?"
I am a German poet,
Of goodly German fame,
When their best names are spoken,
Mine own they are sure to name.
And what I lack, sweet maiden,
Most Germans lack the same.
When men name sharpest sorrows,
Mine own they are sure to name.
XVI.
The sea outspreading glorious,
In the dying sunbeams shone.
We sat by the lonely fisher's house,
We sat there mute and alone.
The waters swell, the mists arise,
The sea-mew flutters past,
And then from out thy loving eyes
The tears come flowing fast.
I see them falling on thy hand.
Upon my knees I sink,
And from the hollow of thy hand
The burning tears I drink.
Since then strange flames my flesh devour,
My spent soul disappears,
The wretched woman in that hour
Poisoned me with her tears.
XVII.
Up yonder on the mountain,
There stands a castle tall;
There dwelt three beauteous maidens,
And I was loved by all.
On Saturday Hetty kissed me,
And Sunday was Julia's day;
On Monday Kunigunda
Nigh hugged my breath away.
On Tuesday, in the castle,
My maidens gave a ball.
The neighboring lords and ladies
Came riding one and all.
But I was not invited.
Amazed they all appeared;
The gossiping aunts and cousins
Remarked the fact, and sneered.
XVIII.
Upon the far horizon
Like a picture of the mist,
Appears the towered city
By the twilight shadows kissed.
The moist, soft breezes ripple
Our boat's wake gray and dark,
With mournful measured cadence
The boatman rows my bark.
The sun from clouds outshining,
Lights up once more the coast.
The very spot it shows me
Where she I loved was lost.
XIX.
All hail to thee, thou fairest
And most mysterious town!
That once inclosed my dearest
Within thy gateways brown.
Speak out, ye towers and portals!
My sweetheart, where is she?
I left her in your keeping;
Ye should my warders be.
The towers are not guilty,
For rooted fast were they.
When sweetheart, with trunks and luggage,
So quickly stole away.
The gates gave willing passage,
With noiseless bars and locks.
A door will always open,
When the adorer knocks.
XX.
I tread the dear familiar path,
The old road I have taken;
I stand before my darling's house,
Now empty and forsaken.
Oh far too narrow is the street,
The roofs seem tottering downward.
The very pavement burns my feet;
I hurry faster onward.
XXI.
Here to her vows I listened,
I tread the empty halls,
And where her tear-drops glistened,
The poisoned serpent crawls.
XXII.
The quiet night broods over roof-tree and steeple;
Within this house dwelt my treasure rare.
'Tis long since I left the town and its people,
But the house stands still on the self-same square.
Here stands, too, a man; toward heaven he gazes,
And he wrings his hands with a wild despair.
I shudder with awe when his face he raises,
For the moonlight shows me mine own self there.
Oh, pale sad creature! my ghost, my double,
Why dost thou ape my passion and tears,
That haunted me here with such cruel trouble,
So many a night in the olden years?
XXIII.
How can'st thou slumber calmly,
Whilst I alive remain?
My olden wrath returneth,
And then I snap my chain.
Know'st thou the ancient ballad
Of that dead lover brave,
Who rose and dragged his lady
At midnight to his grave?
Believe me, I am living;
And I am stronger far,
Most pure, most radiant maiden,
Than all the dead men are.
XXIV.
The maiden sleeps in her chamber,
Where the trembling moonbeams glance,
Without there singeth and ringeth
The melody of a dance.
"I will look just once from the window,
To see who breaks my rest."
A skeleton fiddles before her,
And sings like one possessed.
"To dance with me you promised,
And you have broken your vow.
To-night is a ball in the churchyard,
Come out and dance with me now."
The music bewitches the maiden;
Forth from her home doth she go;
She follows the bony fiddler,
Who sings as he scrapes his bow.
He fiddles, and hops and dances,
And rattles his bones as he plays;
His skull nods grimly and strangely,
In the clear moonlight's rays.
XXV.
I gazed upon her portrait,
While dark dreams filled my brain,
And those beloved features
Began to breathe again.
I saw upon her lips then
A wondrous smile arise,
And as with tears of pity
Glistened once more her eyes.
Adown my cheeks in silence,
The tears came flowing free.
And oh! I cannot believe it,
That thou art lost to me!
XXVI.
I, a most wretched Atlas, the huge world,
The whole huge world of sorrow I must carry.
Yea, the unbearable must bear, though meanwhile
My heart break in my bosom.
Thou haughty heart, thyself hast willed it thus,
Thou would'st be happy, infinitely happy,
Or infinitely wretched, haughty heart!
And lo! now art thou wretched.
XXVII.
The years are coming and going,
Whole races are home to their rest;
But never ceases the passion
That burns within my breast.
Only once more I would see thee,
And make thee a low salaam,
And with my dying breath, murmur:
"I love you still, Madame!"
XXVIII.
I dreamed that the moon looked sadly down,
And the stars with a troubled ray;
I went to my sweetheart's home--the town
Lies many a league away.
My longing led me before her door;
I kissed the stone steps brown,
That her feet had touched in the days of yore,
And the trailing hem of her gown.
The night was long, the night was cold,
Ice-cold did the stone steps seem.
In the window her own wan face, behold!
Illumed by the moon's pale beam.
XXIX.
What means this lonely tear-drop
That blurs my troubled sight,
From olden times returning
Back to mine eyes to-night?
Its many glimmering sisters
Are vanished long ago,
In the night and the wind they vanished
With all my joy and my woe.
And like the mists of evening
Did those blue stars depart,
That smiled all joys and sorrows
Into my trusting heart.
Alas! my love, too, melted
Like idle breath one day;
Oh lingering, lonely tear-drop,
Thou also fade away!
XXX.
The pale half-moon of autumn
Through clouds peers doubtfully.
Within the lonely churchyard
The parsonage I see.
The mother reads in her Bible,
The son at the light doth gaze;
One drowsy daughter is nodding,
While another speaks and says:
"Ah me! how dreary the days are!
How dull, and dark, and mean!
Only when there's a funeral
Is anything to be seen."
The mother looks from her Bible:
"Nay, only four in all
Have died since thy father was buried
Without by the churchyard wall."
Then yawns the eldest daughter,
"I will starve no longer here;
I will go to the Count to-morrow,
He is rich, and he loves me dear."
The son bursts out a-laughing:
"At the 'Star' three huntsmen drink deep;
They are making gold, and they promise
To give me their secret to keep."
Toward his lean face, flings the mother
Her Bible, in wrath and grief.
"Out! God-forsaken beggar,
Thou wilt be a common thief!"
They hear a tap on the window,
And behold a beckoning hand.
There in his sable vestments
They see the dead father stand.
XXXI.
To-night is wretched weather,
It snows, and storms, and rains;
Out in the pitch-black darkness
I gaze through the window-panes.
There flickers a lonely candle,
Slow winding down the street;
And a beldame, with her lantern,
Goes hobbling on in the sleet.
I think 'tis for eggs and butter
That she braves this weather wild,
To bake a cake for her daughter,
Her grown-up ailing child.
Who lies at home in her arm-chair,
And sleepily blinks at the light.
Over her beautiful forehead
Her golden curls wave bright.
XXXII.
They think my heart is breaking,
In sorrow's bitter yoke,
I too begin to think it,
As well as other folk.
Thou large-eyed little darling,
Do I not always say
I love thee past all telling--
Love gnaws my heart away?
But only in my chamber
I dare express my pain;
For always in thy presence
Quite silent I remain.
For there were evil angels
Who sealed my lips so close.
And oh! from evil angels
Sprang all my wretched woes.
XXXIII.
Ah, those pure white lily fingers,
Once again could I but kiss them,
Press them close against my heart,
Melt away in silent weeping!
Oh, those clearest eyes of violet
Hover day and night before me,
And I ponder o'er the meaning
Of those lovely blue enigmas.
XXXIV.
"Did she ne'er express compassion
For thy tender situation?
Could'st thou never in her glances
Read thy love's reciprocation?
"Could'st thou ne'er surprise the spirit
In her bright eyes unawares?
Yet thou surely art no donkey,
Dearest friend, in these affairs!"
XXXV.
They loved one another, but neither
Confessed a word thereof.
They met with coldest glances,
Though pining away with love.
At last they parted; their spirits
Met but in visions rare.
They are long since dead and buried,
Though scarcely themselves aware.
XXXVI.
And when I lamented my cruel lot,
You yawned in my face and you answered not.
But now that I set it in daintiest rhyme,
You flourish my trumpet all the time.
XXXVII.
I called the devil and he came,
His face with wonder I must scan;
He is not ugly, he is not lame,
He is a delightful, charming man.
A man in the prime of life, in fact,
Courteous, engaging and full of tact.
A diplomat, too, of wide research
Who cleverly talks about state and church.
A little pale, but that is en regle,
For now he is studying Sanscrit and Hegel.
His favorite poet is still Fouque;
With the brawls of the critics he meddles no more,
For all such things he has given o'er,
Unto his grandmother Hecate.
He praised my forensic works that he saw,
He had dabbled a little himself in law.
He said he was proud my acquaintance to make,
And should prize my friendship, and bowed as he spake.
And asked if we had not met before
At the house of the Spanish Ambassador?
Then I noted his features line by line,
And found him an old acquaintance of mine.
XXXVIII.
Mortal, sneer not at the devil;
Life's a short and narrow way,
And perdition everlasting
Is no error of the day.
Mortal, pay thy debts precisely,
Life's a long and weary way;
And to-morrow thou must borrow,
As thou borrow'dst yesterday.
XXXIX.
Three holy kings from the land of the West
Go asking whoso passes,
"Where is the road to Bethlehem,
Ye gentle lads and lasses?"
But neither young nor old can tell.
The kings fare patient onward,
They follow a golden star o'erhead,
That bright and kind shines downward.
The star stands still o'er Joseph's house,
Thither the pilgrims bringing;
The oxen low, the Infant cries,
The three wise kings are singing.
XL.
My child, we two were children,
As lively as ever you saw,
We crept into the hencoop,
And we hid there beneath the straw.
And there, like cocks, crowed loudly,
While folk went passing by.
"Kickery-koo!" they fancied,
'Twas really the cock's own cry.
The chests that lay in the courtyard,
With paper we overlaid.
Therein we lived together;
An excellent house we made.
The old cat of our neighbor
Would visit us at whiles;
We gave her bows and curtsies,
And compliments and smiles.
After her health we inquired
Gravely whenever she came.
To many an ancient Tabby
Since then we have done the same.
We talked like grown folks sagely,
And sat there oft and long,
Complaining how all had altered,
Since the days when we were young.
How love and faith and friendship
Had vanished, the world was bare;
How dear were tea and coffee,
And money had grown so rare!
Those childish games are over,
All things roll on with youth,--
Money, the world, and the seasons,
And faith and love and truth.
XLI.
My heart is heavy; from the present
It yearns towards those old days again,
When still the world seemed fair and pleasant,
And men lived happy, free from pain.
Now all things seem at six and sevens,
A scramble and a constant dread;
Dead is the Lord God in the heavens,
Below us is the devil dead.
And all folks sad and mournful moving,
Wear such a cross, cold, anxious face;
Were there not still a little loving,
There would not be a resting place.
XLII.
As the moon with splendor pierces
Through the dark cloud-veil of night,
From my darksome Past emerges
Once again a dream of light.
All upon the deck were seated,
Proudly sailing down the Rhine.
Green with June the shores were glowing
In the evening's sunset-shine.
At the feet of a fair lady
Sat I, full of thoughts untold,
O'er her pale and lovely features
Played the sunlight's ruddy gold.
Lutes were ringing, boys were singing,
Wondrous joy on stream and shore.
Blue and bluer grew the heavens,
And the spirit seemed to soar.
Hill and city, wood and meadow,
Glided past in fairy-wise.
And I saw the whole scene mirrored
In the lovely lady's eyes.
XLIII.
In a dream I saw my sweetheart,
A woman harassed with care;
Faded, and haggard, and withered,
The form that had bloomed so fair.
One child in her arms she carried,
And one by the hand she led.
And trouble and poverty plainly
In her eyes and her raiment I read.
Across the square she tottered,
And face to face we stood.
She looked at me, and I spoke then
In quiet but mournful mood.
"Come home with me to my dwelling,
Thou art pale and ill, I think,
And there, with unceasing labor,
I will furnish thee meat and drink.
"And I will serve thee, and cherish
Thy children so wan and mild.
And thyself more dearly than any,
Thou poor, unhappy child.
"Nor will I vex thee by telling
The love that burns in my breast;
And I will weep when thou diest
Over thy place of rest."
XLIV.
"Dearest friend, what may it profit
To repeat the old refrain?
Wilt thou, brooding still above it,
Sitting on love's egg remain!
Ah, it needs incessant watching;
From the shell the chicks have risen.
Clucking, they reward thy hatching,
And this book shall be their prison."
XLV.
Only bear with me in patience,
If the notes of former wrongs
Many a time distinctly echo
In the latest of my songs.
Wait! the slow reverberation
Of my grief will soon depart,
And a spring of new song blossom
In my healed, reviving heart.
XLVI.
'Tis time that, more sober and serious grown,
From folly at last I break free.
I, who so long in comedian's gown,
Have played in the play with thee.
The scenes gaily painted were bright to behold,
And in ultra-romantic tints shone.
My knightly, rich mantle was spangled with gold;
Noblest feelings were ever mine own.
But now with grave trouble my thoughts are beset,
Although from the stage I depart;
And my heart is as wretchedly miserable yet,
As though I still acted my part.
Ah God! all unwitting and wholly in jest,
What I felt and I suffered I told.
I have fought against Death who abode in my breast
Like the dying wrestler of old.
XLVII.
The great king Wiswamitra
In dire distress is now.
He seeks with strife and penance
To win Waschischta's cow.
Oh, great King Wiswamitra,
Oh what an ox art thou!
So much to struggle and suffer,
And only for a cow.
XLVIII.
Heart, my heart, oh, be not shaken!
Bravely bear thy fate. Once more
Shall the coming Spring restore
What the Winter rude hath taken.
How abundant is thy measure!
Still, O world, how fair thou art!
And thou yet may'st love, my heart,
Everything that gives thee pleasure.
XLIX.
Thou seemest like a flower,
So pure and fair and bright;
A melancholy yearning
Steals o'er me at thy sight.
I fain would lay in blessing
My hands upon thy hair,
Imploring God to keep thee,
So bright, and pure, and fair.
L.
Child, I must be very careful,
For thy soul would surely perish,
If the loved heart in thy bosom
Love for me should ever cherish.
But the task proves all too easy,
Strange regrets begin to move me.
Meanwhile many a time I whisper:
"If I could but make her love me!"
LI.
When on my couch reclining,
Buried in pillows and night,
There hovers then before me
A form of grace and light.
As soon as quiet slumber
Has closed my weary eyes,
Then softly does the image
Within my dream arise.
But with my dream at morning,
It never melts away;
For in my heart I bear it
Through all the livelong day.
LII.
Maiden with the lips of scarlet,
Clearest, sweetest eyes that be,
O my darling little maiden,
Ever do I think of thee!
Dreary is the winter evening:
Would that I were in thy home,
Sitting by thee, calmly chatting,
In the cosy little room.
And upon my lips, my darling,
I would press thy small white hand.
I would press and I would moisten
With my tears thy small, white hand.
LIII.
Let the snow without be piled,
Let the howling storm rage wild,
Beating o'er the window-pane,--
I will never more complain,
For within my heart bide warm
Spring-tide joy and sweetheart's form.
LIV.
Some to Mary bend the knee,
Others unto Paul and Peter,
I, however, I will worship,
Sun of beauty, only thee.
Kiss me, love me, dearest one,
Be thou gracious, show me favor,
Fairest sun among all maidens,
Fairest maiden under the sun.
LV.
Did not my pallid cheek betray
My love's unhappy fate?
And wilt thou force my haughty lips
To beg and supplicate?
Oh far too haughty are these lips,
They can but kiss and jest.
They speak perchance a scornful word,
While my heart breaks in my breast.
LVI.
Dearest friend, thou art in love,
Tortured with new woes thou art;
Darker grows it in thy brain,
Lighter grows it in thy heart.
Dearest friend, thou art in love,
Though thou hast not yet confessed.
I can see thy flaming heart
Burn already through thy vest.
LVII.
I fain by thee would tarry,
To rest there and to woo;
But thou away must hurry,
Thou hadst too much to do.
I told thee that my spirit
Was wholly bound to thee,
And thou didst laugh to hear it,
And curtsy low to me.
Yea, thou did'st much misuse me,
In all my love's distress,
And even didst refuse me
At last the parting kiss.
I will not for thy glory
Go drown, when all is o'er;
My dear, this same old story
Befell me once before.
LVIII.
Sapphires are those eyes of thine,
So lovely and so sweet,
Thrice blessed is the happy man
Whom they with love will greet.
Thy heart, it is a diamond,
That sheds a splendid light.
Thrice blessed is the happy man
For whom it glows so bright.
As red as rubies are thy lips,
Naught fairer can I prove.
Thrice blessed is the happy man
To whom they whisper love.
Oh, knew I but that happy man,
Could I at last discover,
Deep in the greenwood, all alone--
His bliss were quickly over.
LIX.
Lovers' vows, wherefrom thou turnest,
Bound me closely to thy heart,
Now my jest grows sober earnest,
I am pierced by mine own dart.
Laughingly thou stand'st before me--
If thou leave me in my need,
All the powers of hell come o'er me,
I shall shoot myself indeed.
LX.
Our life and the world have too fragment-like grown;
To the German Professor I'll hie me anon
Who sets in straight order all things overhurled.
He will draw up a sensible system, I think,
With his nightcap and nightgown he'll stop every chink
In this tumble-down edifice known as the world.
LXI.
Long through my racked and weary brain
Did endless thoughts and dreams revolve;
But now thy lovely eyes, my dear,
Have brought me to a firm resolve.
Within their radiance wise and kind,
Where'er thine eyes shine, I remain.
I could not have believed it true
That I should ever love again.
LXII.
To-night they give a party,
The house is all a-glow.
Above, in the lighted window,
Moves a shadow to and fro.
Thou see'st me not in the darkness,
I stand below, apart.
Still less, my dear, thou seeest
Within my gloomy heart.
My gloomy heart it loves thee;
It breaks for love of thee,
It breaks, and yearns, and bleedeth,
Only thou wilt not see.
LXIII.
I fain would outpour all my sorrows
In a single word to-day.
To the merry winds I would trust it,
They would merrily bear it away.
They would bear it to thee, my darling,
The word of sorrowful grace.
Thou should'st hear it at every hour,
Thou shouldst hear it in every place.
And scarce in the midnight darkness
Shouldst thou close thine eyes in sleep,
Ere my whispered word, it would follow,
Though thy dream were ever so deep.
LXIV.
Thou hast diamonds, and pearls and jewels,
All thy heart covets in store,
And the loveliest eyes under heaven--
My darling, what wouldst thou more?
Upon thine eyes, so lovely,
Have I written o'er and o'er
Immortal songs and sonnets--
My darling, what wouldst thou more?
And with thine eyes so lovely
Thou hast stung me to the core,
And hast compassed my undoing--
My darling, what wouldst thou more?
LXV.
He who for the first time loves,
E'en rejected, is a god.
He who loves a second time,
Unrequited, is a fool.
Such a fool am I, in loving
Once again with no return.
Sun and moon and stars are laughing;
I am laughing too--and dying.
LXVI.
They gave me advice, they counseled sense,
They overpowered with compliments.
Patience! they said, and in my need
They'd prove themselves my friends indeed.
Despite their promise to help and protect,
I surely had perished of sheer neglect,
Had there not come a worthy man,
Who bravely to help me now began.
Oh, the worthy man! he gave me to eat;
Such kindness as his I shall never forget.
I long to embrace him, but never can,
For I am myself this excellent man.
LXVII.
This most amiable of fellows
Ne'er enough can honored be.
Ah! to oysters, Rhine-wine, cordial,
Many a time he treated me.
Natty are his hose and trousers,
Nattier his cravat is seen;
And he enters every morning,
Asks me how my health has been.
Of my rich renown he speaketh,
Of my charms and wit displayed.
Zealous, eager seems he ever
To befriend me and to aid.
And at parties in the evening,
With inspired brow and eye,
He declaims before the ladies
My immortal poesy.
How delightfully refreshing
Now-a-days to find still here
Such a youth, when good things surely
More and more do disappear.
LXVIII.
I dreamt I was Almighty God,
And sat within the sky,
And angels sat on either side,
And praised my poetry.
And sweets and pasties there I ate,
And drank the best Tokay,
Worth many a precious florin bright,
Yet had no bill to pay.
No less was I nigh bored to death,
And longed for earth and evil,
And were I not Almighty God,
I fain had been the devil.
"Thou long-legged angel Gabriel,
Make haste; begone from here!
And hither bring my friend Eugene,
The friend I love so dear.
"Within the college seek him not,
But where good wine inspires.
And seek him not in Hedwig Church,
But seek him at Miss Myers'."
Then spreading broad his mighty wings,
The angel doth descend,
And hastens off, and brings me back
Dear Bendel, my good friend.
Lo, youth, I am Almighty God!
The earth is my estate.
Did I not always promise thee
I should be something great?
And I accomplish miracles
That shall thy homage win.
To-day to please thee I shall bless
The city of Berlin.
Behold, the pavements of each street
Now wider, broader, grown!
And to an oyster, fresh and clear,
Transformed is every stone.
A shower of sweet lemonade
Pours down like dew divine.
And through the very gutters flows
The mellowest Rhine wine.
Oh, how the Berlinese rejoice!
They lush o'er such good fare.
The councillors and aldermen
Will drain the gutters bare.
The poets are in ecstasies
At such a feast divine.
The captains and the corporals
Lick up the streaming wine.
The captains and the corporals,
What clever men are they!
They think--such miracles as these
Occur not every day.
LXIX.
I left you in the midmost of July,
To-day, my friends in winter I behold.
Then in the heat ye basked so warm and bright,
But now ye have grown cool, yea, even cold.
Soon I depart again, and come once more,
Then shall I find you neither warm nor cold.
And I shall moan lamenting o'er your graves,
And mine own heart shall then be poor and old.
LXX.
Oh, to be chased from lovely lips! and torn
From lovely arms that clasped as in a dream.
I fain had stayed with thee another morn.
Then came the postboy with his tinkling team.
E'en such is life, my child, a constant moan--
A constant parting, evermore good-byes,
Could not thy heart cling fast unto mine own?
Couldst thou not hold me steadfast with thine eyes?
LXXI.
All night, in the shadowy post-chaise,
We drove through the winter weather.
We slept on each other's bosoms,
We jested and laughed together.
But how were we both astonished,
When morning bade us stir,
Betwixt us two sat Cupid,
The blindfold passenger.
LXXII.
Lord knows where the reckless creature
Chose her transient stopping-place!
Swearing through the rainy weather,
Everywhere I seek her trace.
I have been to every tavern
Running up and running down,
And of every surly waiter
Made inquiries in the town.
Lo, I see her in yon window!
And she beckons--all is well!
Could I guess that you had chosen,
Lady, such a grand hotel?
LXXIII.
Like shadows black the houses
Uprise in long array.
Enveloped in my mantle
I hurry on my way.
The old cathedral-belfry
Chimes midnight grave and slow.
With all her charms and kisses
My love awaits me now.
The moon is my companion,
Kind-beaming from the sky
I reach the house beloved,
And joyously I cry--
"I thank thee, trusty servant,
That thou hast cheered my way.
And now, dear moon, I leave thee.
On others shed thy ray.
"And if a lonely lover
Who sings of grief, thou see,
Oh give him such sweet solace
As thou hast given me."
LXXIV.
Wert thou, in sooth, mine honored wife,
Then shouldst thou envied be;
A merry pastime were thy life--
All pleasure, mirth, and glee.
And should'st thou scold, and rail and curse,
I'd meekly bear my fate;
But if thou do not praise my verse,
Then shall we separate.
LXXV.
Upon thy snow-white shoulders
I lean my head at rest;
And secretly I hearken
To the yearning of thy breast.
In thy heart hussars blue-coated
Are riding and blowing their horn;
And my darling will surely desert me
With the earliest streak of morn.
And if thou desert me to-morrow,
None the less art thou mine to-day.
And within thine arms so lovely,
Still doubly blest I stay.
LXXVI.
Hussars are blowing their trumpets,
And to thy doors they ride.
A garland of wreathed roses
I bring to thee, my bride.
That were a boisterous household,
Landpests and soldiery!
And in thy little heart, dear,
The goodliest quarters be.
LXXVII.
I, too, in my youth did languish,
Suffered many a bitter anguish,
Burning in love's spell.
Now the price of fuel's higher,
And extinguished is the fire,
Ma foi! and that is well.
Think of this, my youthful beauty,
Dry the stupid tears of duty,
Quell love's stupid, vague alarms.
Since thy life is not yet over,
Oh forget thy former lover,
Ma foi! within mine arms.
LXXVIII.
Dost thou hate me then so fiercely,
Hast thou really changed so blindly?
To the world I shall proclaim it,
Thou could'st treat me so unkindly.
Say, ungrateful lips, how can you
Breathe an evil word of scorning,
Of the very man who kissed you
So sincerely, yestermorning?
LXXIX.
Yes, they are the self-same eyes
That still brighten as I greet her,
Yes, they are the self-same lips
That made all my life seem sweeter.
Yes, it is the very voice,
At whose slightest tones I faltered
But no more the same am I;
I wend homeward strangely altered.
By the fair white arms embraced
With a close and tender passion,
Now I lie upon her heart,
Dull of brain, in cold vexation.
LXXX.
Ye could not understand mine ire
Nor I the tales that ye did tell,
But when we met within the mire,
We knew each other very well.
LXXXI.
But the eunuchs still complained,
When I raised my voice to sing--
They complained and they maintained
That it had too harsh a ring.
And they raised with one accord
All their dainty voices clear,
Little crystal trills outpoured--
Oh, how pure and fine to hear!
And they sang of love so sweet,
Love's desire and love's full measure,
That the rare artistic treat
Made the ladies weep for pleasure.
LXXXII.
On the walls of Salamanca
Gently sigh the breezes yonder.
Often with my gracious Donna,
There on summer eves I wander.
Round my beauty's slender girdle,
Tenderly mine arm enwreathing,
I can feel with blessed finger
Her proud bosom's haughty breathing.
But I hear an anxious whisper
Through the linden-branches coming,
And below, the somber mill-stream
Murmurs dreams of evil omen.
Ah, Senora, I foresee it!
I shall be expelled forever,
On the walls of Salamanca,
We again shall wander never!
LXXXIII.
Next to me lives Don Henriquez,
He whom folk "the beauty" call;
Neighborly our rooms are parted
Only by a single wall.
Salamanca's ladies flutter
When he strides along the street,
Clinking spurs, mustachoes twirling,
And with hounds about his feet.
But in quiet hours of evening
He will sit at home apart,
His guitar between his fingers,
And sweet dreams within his heart.
Then he smites the chords with passion,
All at once begins to strum.
Ah, like squalling cats his scrapings,
Toll-de-roll and toodle-dum!
LXXXIV.
We scarcely had met ere thy voice and thine eye
Assured me, my darling, that thou wast mine own;
And had not thy mother stood cruelly nigh,
I think I should really have kissed thee anon.
To-morrow again I depart from the town,
And hasten forth on my weary track,
From the window my yellow-haired lass peeps down,
And the friendliest greetings I waft her back.
LXXXV.
Lo, on the mountains the sunbeams' first kiss!
The bells of the herd ring afar on the plain,
My darling, my lambkin, my sun and my bliss,
Oh, fain would I see thee and greet thee again!
I gaze on thy windows with curious eyes.
Farewell, dearest child, I must vanish for thee,
In vain! for the curtain moves not--there she lies,
There slumbers she still--and dreams about me?
LXXXVI.
In Halle, near the market,
There stand two mighty lions.
Ah, lion-strength of Halle town,
How art thou tamed and broken!
In Halle, near the market,
There stands a mighty giant,
He holds a sword and he never moves,
He is petrified with terror.
In Halle, near the market,
A stately church is standing,
Where the Burschenschaft and the Landsmannschaft
Have plenty of room to worship.
LXXXVII.
Dusky summer-eve declineth
Over wood and verdant meadow,
Golden moon in azure heavens,
Wafting fragrance, softly shineth.
By the brook-side chirps the cricket,
Something stirs within the water,
And the wanderer hears a rustling,
Hears a breathing past the thicket.
In the streamlet, white and slender,
All alone the nymph is bathing,
Beautiful her arms and shoulders
Shimmer in the moonbeams' splendor.
LXXXVIII.
Night enfolds these foreign meadows,
Sick heart, weary limbs caressing.
Ah, thy light athwart the shadows,
Moon, is like a quiet blessing!
Gentle moon, thy mild beams banish
Gloomy terrors where they hover.
All my woes dissolve and vanish,
And mine eyes with dew brim over.
LXXXIX.
Death is like the balmy night,
Life is like the sultry day;
It is dark, and I am sleepy.
I am weary of the light.
O'er my couch a tree doth spring
In its boughs a nightingale
Sings of love, of naught but love,
In my dream I hear him sing.
XC.
"Tell me where's your lovely maiden,
Whom you sang of erst so well,
As a flame that through your bosom
Pierced with rare, enchanted spell."
Ah, that flame is long extinguished!
And my heart is cold above.
And this little book the urn is
For the ashes of my love.
[The end]
Heinrich Heine's poem: Homeward Bound
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