EE! in the May afternoon,
O'er the fresh short turf of the Hartz,
A youth, with the foot of youth,
Heine! thou climbest again.
Up, through the tall dark firs
Warming their heads in the sun,
Checkering the grass with their shade, -
Up, by the stream with its huge
Moss-hung boulders and thin
Musical water half hid,
Up, o'er the rock-strewn slope,
With the sinking sun, and the air
Chill, and the shadows now
Long on the gray hillside,
To the stone-roofed hut at the top.
Or, yet later, in watch
On the roof of the Brocken tower
Thou standest, gazing! to see
The broad red sun, over field,
Forest and city and spire,
And mist-tracked stream of the wide,
Wide German land, going down
In a bank of vapors, - again
Standest! at nightfall, alone.
Or, next morning, with limbs
Rested by slumber, and heart
Freshened and light with the May,
O'er the gracious spurs coming down
Of the Lower Hartz, among oaks,
And beechen coverts, and copse
Of hazels green in whose depth
Ilse, the fairy transformed,
In a thousand water-breaks light
Pours her petulant youth,
Climbing the rock which juts
O'er the valley, the dizzily perched
Rock! to its Iron Cross
Once more thou cling'st; to the Cross
Clingest! with smiles, with a sigh.
Goethe, too, had been there.
In the long-past winter he came
To the frozen Hartz, with his soul
Passionate, eager, his youth
All in ferment; but he
Destined to work and to live
Left it, and thou, alas!
Only to laugh and to die.
Dein Haupt will ich beneßen
Mit meiner klaren Well',
Du sollst deine Schmerzen vergessen,
Du sorgenkranker Gesell!
In meinen weißen Armen,
An meiner weißen Brust,
Da sollst du liegen und träumen
Von alter Märchenlust.
Ich will dich küssen und herzen,
Wie ich geherzt und geküßt
Den lieben Kaiser Heinrich,
Der nun gestorben ist.
Es bleiben tot die Toten,
Und nur der Lebendige lebt;
Und ich bin schön und blühend,
Mein lachendes Herze bebt.
Komm in mein Schloß herunter,
In mein kristallenes Schloß,
Dort tanzen die Fräulein und Ritter,
Es jubelt der Knappentroß.
AM the Princess Ilse,
And live in Ilsenstein;
Come, be happy with me,
In the castle that is mine.
Thy head will I shower over,
With my clear, shining wave;
Thou shalt forget thy sorrows,
Thou overburdened knave.
In my own pure embraces,
Upon my soft, white breast,
There shalt thou linger and dream long,
With old, sweet legends rest.
I will kiss thee and love thee,
As I have loved and kissed
The charming Kaiser Heinrich,
Who is dead now, thou wist.
But now the dead remain dead,
And only the living stay;
And I am lovely and blooming;
My laughing heart is gay.
Come down below to my castle,
My castle made of glass;
There dance the knights and maidens,
There shout the lad and lass.
Es rauchen die seidenen Schleppen,
Es klirren die Eisensporn,
Die Zwerge trompeten und pauken,
Und siedeln und blasen das Horn.
Doch dich soll mein Arm umschlingen,
Wie er Kaiser Heinrich umschlang;
Ich hielt ihm zu die Ohren,
Wenn die Trompet' erklang.
Written in the Album at Elbingerode, in the Harz Forest
STOOD on Brocken's sovran height, and saw Woods crowding upon woods, hills over hills, A surging scene, and only limited
By the blue distance. Heavily my way
Downward I dragged through fir groves evermore,
Where bright green moss heaves in sepulchral forms
Speckled with sunshine; and, but seldom heard,
The sweet bird's song became an hollow sound:
And the breeze, murmuring indivisibly,
Preserved its solemn murmur most distinct
From many a note of many a waterfall,
And the brook's chatter; 'mid whose islet-stones
The dingy kidling with its tinkling bell
Leaped frolicsome, or old romantic goat
Sat, his white beard slow waving.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
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