It is her largeness, and her overflow, IV. For never touch of gladness stirs my heart, Like a blind Arab, that from sleep doth start And wishing without hope I restlessly despair. The mother with anticipated glee Smiles o'er the child, that, standing by her chair To mock the coming sounds. At that sweet sight VI. Then is she tenfold gladder than before! But should disease or chance the darling take, Why was I made for Love and Love denied to me? WH DESIRE. WHERE true Love burns, Desire is Love's pure flame; It is the reflex of our earthly frame, That takes its meaning from the nobler part, LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP OPPOSITE. HER ER attachment may differ from yours in degree, Provided they are both of one kind; But friendship how tender soever it be Gives no accord to Love, however refined. Love, that meets not with Love, its true nature revealing, Grows ashamed of itself, and demurs: If you cannot lift hers up to your state of feeling, You must lower down your state to hers. NOT AT HOME. THAT Jealousy may rule a mind Where Love could never be I know; but ne'er expect to find She has a strange cast in her ee, Ask for her and she'll be denied :— TO A LADY, OFFENDED BY A SPORTIVE OBSERVATION THAT WOMEN HAVE NO SOULS. NAY, dearest Anna! why so grave I said you had no soul, 'tis true! ? For what you are, you cannot have; 'Tis I, that have one since I first had you! I HAVE heard of reasons manifold Why Love must needs be blind, But this the best of all I hold- What outward form and feature are HEAR, sweet spirit, hear the spell, So shall the midnight breezes swell And at evening evermore, In a chapel on the shore, Shall the chaunter, sad and saintly, Hark! the cadence dies away, The boatmen rest their oars and say, SONG. FROM "ZAPOLYA." A SUNNY shaft did I behold From sky to earth it slanted: And poised therein a bird so bold- His eyes of fire, his beak of gold, And thus he sang: "Adieu! adieu ! We must away; To day to day! CHORAL SONG. FROM "ZAPOYLA." UP, up! ye dames, ye lasses gay! "Tis you must tend the flocks this morn, For the shepherds must go To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. Leave the hearth and leave the house To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. SONG OF THEKLA. FROM THE PICCOLOMINI, OR FIRST PART OF WALLENSTEIN. TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER. HE cloud doth gather, the green-wood roar, THE The damsel paces along the shore; The billows they tumble with might, with might; And she flings out her voice to the darksome night; Her bosom is swelling with sorrow; |