Poets & Princes II

Camoens: "Beholding Her"

2010-02-11T22:09:00.005-05:00

When I behold you, Lady! When my eyes
Dwell on the deep enjoyment of your sight,
I give my spirit to that one delight,
And earth appears to me a Paradise.

And when I hear you speak,
And see you smile,
Full satisfied, absorb'd, my center'd mind,
Deems all the world's vain hopes
And joys the wild,
As empty as the unsubstantial Wind.

Lady! I feel your charms,
Yet dare not raise,
To that high theme the unequal Song of praise,
A power for that to language
Was not given.

Nor marvel I, when I those beauties view, Lady!
That He, Whose power created you,
Could form the Stars,
And yonder glorious Heaven.

J.W. Ludwig Gleim: "Cynthia Bathing"

2010-02-03T18:52:00.010-05:00

From her fair limbs
The last thin veil she drew,
And naked stood in all her charms confess'd,
The wanton gales
Her ringlets backward blew,

To sport themselves more freely on her breast:
From each warm
Beauty of the uncovered maid,
Before scarce guessed at, or but seen in part,
From all, for all, was to my eyes displayed,
Delicious poison trickled to my heart:

Since thus I gazed
(was mine to gaze the blame?)
Nor bless my soul hath tasted, nor repose;
The subtle venom glides through all my frame,
And in my brain a fiery deluge glows:

Thou, who my pangs wouldst shun,
With wiser care the spot,
Where Cynthia bathes at noon, beware.

J.C. von Zedlitz: "A Core of Light"

2010-01-25T19:45:00.008-05:00

Excerpt, "Translations From The German Poets." Edward Stanhope Pearson. 1879.

A core of light with thousand
Rays is streaming
Its God-enkindled origin to warrant.
Tis Genius is the Sun which
Life awakens
And ripens all, a fertilizing torrent.

What glass soever make her
Image picture
May she in song her dauntless
Flight be winging,
All heart together bringing,
The Highest still she seeketh,
That she knoweth.

Long since the common world
To wreck had tumbled,
Without her, and long since to
Dust had crumbled,
The halls of that fair fane where
Heaven's fire gloweth.

She is the spring whence
Life Eternal trilleth,
From life she comes,
She only Life instilleth.

Goethe: "To A Golden Heart, Worn Round His Neck"

2010-01-19T15:51:00.009-05:00

Excerpt, "The Sonnets of Europe: A Volume of Translations." Selected and Arranged with Notes by Samuel Waddington. 1885.

Remembrance of Joys long passed away,
Relic, from which as yet I cannot part,
O, hast thou power to lengthen
love’s short day?
Stronger thy chain than that which
bound the heart?

Lili, I fly – yet still thy fetters press me
In distant valley, or far lonely wood.
Still with a struggling sigh of
pain confess thee
The mistress of my soul in
every mood.

The bird may burst the silken chain
that bound him,
Flying to the green home, which
fits him best;
But, ah! He bears the prisoner’s
badge around him,
Still by the piece about his neck distressed.
He ne’er can breathe his free
wild notes again;
They’re stifled by the pressure of his chain.

Nicolaus Lenau: “Invocation of Night”

2010-01-14T21:46:00.004-05:00

Excerpt, "Translations From The German Poets." Edward Stanhope Pearson. 1879

Darkbrow’d eye, O rest upon me,
Fill me with thy fullest might,
Earnest, mild, with dreamful plumage,
Sweet, unfathomable Night!

In thy magic darkness, wrap me
Draw this world from out my view,
That athwart my inmost being
Thou may’st hover through and through!

Torquato Tasso: “Love Unloved”

2010-01-13T09:14:00.010-05:00

Excerpt, "The Sonnets of Europe: A Volume of Translations." Selected and Arranged with Notes by Samuel Waddington. 1885.

Ah! Wherefore sigh for him
who sighs not too?
Any love where love again
will never grow?
Why should these bitter tears
incessant flow,
While not one drop has wet
the cheek for you?

Why pale for him that keeps
his wonted hue?
Why in your eye such beams of
pleasure glow,
While still you turn to one
averted so,
And gaze intent, with passion
ever new?

If love, at will of others,
lives or dies,
Let this thy unrequited flame expire,
And dim with grief no more
these radiant eyes.
Let absence change thy tender
heart to stone.

Or, if it must be kindled, let the fire
Light in thy breast, but not
in thine alone.

Petrarch: “The Buried Heart”

2010-01-13T01:47:00.007-05:00

Excerpt, "The Sonnets of Europe: A Volume of Translations." Selected and Arranged with Notes by Samuel Waddington. 1885.

Not skies serene, with glittering stars inlaid,
Nor gallant ships o’er tranquil ocean dancing,
Nor gay careering knights in arms advancing,
Nor wild herds bounding through
the forest glade,
Nor tidings new of happiness delayed,

Nor poesie, Love’s witchery enhancing,
Nor lady’s song beside clear fountain glancing,
In beauty’s pride, with chastity arrayed;
Nor aught of lovely, aught of gay in show,

Shall touch my heart now cold within her tomb
Who was erewhile my life and light below!
So heavy – tedious – sad – my days unblest,
That I, with strong desire,
invoke Death’s gloom,

Her to behold, whom ne’er to have
seen were best!

G.A.Bürger: "The Heart Without a Home"

2010-01-12T23:25:00.015-05:00

Excerpt, "The Sonnets of Europe: A Volume of Translations." Selected and Arranged with Notes by Samuel Waddington. 1885.

Long like a dove by the fierce falcon driven,
Hither and thither wandered sad my Love;
And simply it imagined, like a dove,
That it had reached at length
its tranquil heaven.

Ah Faith! To fond delusions vainly given;
And Fate! Conceived by none but
those who prove;
That home from which it dreaded no remove,
Is by the instant stroke of lightning riven!

Hither and thither still it wanders now;
Poor little dove! Twixt earth
and heaven remains
No object for its wing; the Fates allow
No kindred Heart in solace of its pains;
Not one this desolated Earth contains
That might return its warmth,
That might reward its vow.

August von Platen: "My Heart, Thy Voice"

2010-01-03T21:53:00.009-05:00

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Excerpt, "The Poetry of Germany, Consisting from Upwards of Seventy of the Most Celebrated Poets." Translated into English Verse by Alfred Baskerville. 1853.

MY HEART, THY VOICE

O let me read thee well,
Thy heart I fain would see.
Oh what a magic spell
Speaks in thy voice to me!

So many phrases rush
At random in our ear,
And when their echoes hush,
The heart is cold and drear.

E’en when thy distant voice,
Doth in my ear resound.
I listen and rejoice,
And ne’er forget the sound.

I tremble as I glow,
With flames I cannot quell;
My heart, thy voice, they know,
Each other but too well.
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Emanuel Geibel: "See'st Thou The Sea?"

2009-12-29T09:21:00.011-05:00

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Excerpt, “Lyrics and Ballads of Heine and Other German Poets.” Translated by Frances Hellman. 1892.

Goethe: "A Lay of Christmas"

2009-12-23T22:16:00.012-05:00

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Excerpt,"A Book of Ballads from the German." Translated by Percy Boyd, Esq. 1848.

A LAY OF CHRISTMAS

We cheerfully sing, and inscribe our glad lay,
To the Lord of the Castle here seated’
Whose grandson espoused a fair lady this day,
And the bridal guests sumptuously feted.
In the late holy wars he won honour and fame,
By splendid achievements ablazon’d his name,
Yet behold, when adown from his charger he came,
To his mansion he found it as open as day –
His property vanish’d – his servants away.

There you stand, noble Count,
you are now in your home,
And more comfortless quarters
you scarcely could find;
Through the chambers neglected,
the breezes may roam,
And all through the casements loud
whistles the wind:
“What now can be done in this cold
autumn night,
No servant attending – your rooms
in sad plight;
But patiently wait the return
of daylight:
In the meantime, the moonbeams
will show you where best,
On some straw as a couch you
may lie down and rest.”

There, seeking repose, half asleep as he lay,
Something moves about under his bed;
Perhaps a starved rat may be rustling his way,
For a long time a stranger to bread:
When, lo! Issues forth a diminutive wight,
An elegant Fay in a circle of light,
Who, with action so graceful,
and speech most polite,
Thus addresses the Count,
as he, drowsily peeking,
Can scarcely be sure,
if he’s waking and sleeping.

“Our festive assemblies we held in this place,
When, your castle forsaking, to war you had gone,
And as we all deem’d that this yet was the case,
We thought that our revels we still might hold on:
So we plead now for pardon, and hope you’ll agree,
To our giving a fete in good humour and glee,
And feasting a bride of the highest degree!”
The Count, through his dream, as he lay at his ease,
Says, “T’is at your service whenever you please.”

In an instant, three horsemen, who rode on before,
From under the bed leave their station,
Next follow a singing and musical choir,
Comic elves of this miniature nation.
While coaches and chariots came rolling along,
Till the eye and the ear were confused with the throng.
As it seem’d as a Queen to the castle had gone,
At last came a splendid gilt carriage,
With the bride, and her suite, to the marriage.

Alighting, they enter with rapid galope,
And around their saloon take their places,
To waltzes and polkas they joyously hop,
With partners who dance like the Graces:
There they pipe and they fiddle, and tinkle and play,
They spin round in circles so noisy and gay,
And they rustle and bustle and praddle away,
That the Count, more bewilder’d than ever, now deems
The whole the effect of his feverish dreams.

Thus they clatter and chatter, and frolic in saal,
Amid benches and tables all a prancing;
Till the banqueting-rooms offers welcome to all,
And supper succeeds to the dancing.
The dainties so magic, are sliced so fine!
With roebuck and wild fowl, and fish from the Rhine,
While goblets go round of the costliest wine,
And the festive enjoyments continue so long,
That they vanish away at the last with a song.

But here let us sing of what later took place,
When the revelry ceased and the noise;
How the pageant, devised by the frolicsome race,
The Count now adopts and enjoys:
So the trumpet is heard with its musical strain,
A splendid procession moves over the plain,
With chariots and horsemen, a numberless train,
All cordially joining, so happy and gay,
To honour the nuptials we witness today.
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