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Translated by K. F. Kroeker
ROMANCE! I greet thee! Lo, thy eyry bold! | |
| Its slender turrets in the air uptowering, | |
| Its crumbling porches, mossy ruins old, | |
| Its castle, firm and rugged to behold, | |
| How doth it wrap my soul with sway o’erpowering! | 5 |
| Hail once again! I tread in pensive dream | |
| Thy fairest refuge on the Rhine’s fair stream. | |
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| Thou still art here! In weeds of cloister plain, | |
| Through colored panes thou gazest on me sadly, | |
| Outlawed thou art by Reason and her train, | 10 |
| Alas! the wisdom of this age were fain | |
| To banish thee forevermore most gladly! | |
| In river strongholds, tottering and decayed, | |
| Thou hidest tremblingly, O wondrous maid! | |
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| In churches, ah! so desolate and bare, | 15 |
| Yon is the place where loud thy soul is wailing! | |
| In empty churches, thou, with streaming hair, | |
| Dost weeping kneel with many a broken prayer, | |
| And fervent clinging to the altar’s railing, | |
| Within whose shadow’s ever sacred calm | 20 |
| Dost seek devout a sanctuary’s balm! | |
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| Yet thou art she, whom oft in days of yore | |
| A nation’s best with rapt delight praised loudly, | |
| Whom Ludwig Tieck’s white palfrey ofttimes bore, | |
| Who, through the wood of poesy, before | 25 |
| Didst dash,—Brentano, Arnim following proudly; | |
| Glows bright the forest, silver-springs around, | |
| And like a dream the Fairy Horn doth sound. | |
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| Days long since past! Adown the shore strode I,— | |
| Not Volker saw the Rhine more limpid racing,— | 30 |
| A steamboat on its way went rushing by, | |
| The wheel ploughed deep, and threw the foam on high, | |
| Upon the deck one of thy priests was pacing; | |
| The youngest sure,—and yet already now | |
| Gray are the locks that float round Uhland’s brow! | 35 |
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| We recognition waved; my lonely town | |
| He soon passed by, o’erlooking the swift river; | |
| Upon us twain the Lorelei gazed down,— | |
| Upon my lips a cry of joy I drown, | |
| But in my eyes hot tears all trembling quiver; | 40 |
| A mournful song into my memory came, | |
| “Three Students crossed the Rhine,”—this was its name! | |
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| Yes, this the Rhine, whose wave doth hide the gold | |
| Whereon old Uhland’s eyes with pleasure glistened | |
| And yon himself!—Romance, ah! there behold | 45 |
| The inspired lip that truly could unfold, | |
| With magic word, thy glamour as he listened; | |
| Yon is the eye that in the enchanted ring, | |
| Beside the Witch-Elm, bathed in thy clear spring! | |
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| That he was passing—ah! how well yon knew! | 50 |
| From crag and chink, forth through the dewy morning | |
| You gazed on him;—a sunny smile there flew, | |
| Just as the vessel rounded into view, | |
| O’er thy wan features’ sad, resignéd mourning! | |
| With mournful pleasure thou on bended knee | 55 |
| Upon thy river thine own bard didst see! | |
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| Yonder he fled, thy youngest, truest knight! | |
| The last smoke fades in air, the ship retreating; | |
| Gone too thy smile; the hills no more stand bright; | |
| Thy last brave champion, who for thee doth fight,— | 60 |
| And on a steamer!—strange my heart is beating!— | |
| Mediæval inspiration borne away | |
| By a new age’s all-resistless sway! | |
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| A simile! It entered full my soul, | |
| And would not thence again, my will defying! | 65 |
| The melancholy hence that o’er me stole! | |
| Thou pale one, hushed and silent be thy dole! | |
| An iron age! ’t is for thee, harsh and trying. | |
| Heedless it undermines thy tottering throne, | |
| Alas! not with its steamers’ keel alone! | 70 |
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| Thy empire, lady, has departed long; | |
| The world has changed; where, now, are thy dominions? | |
| Another spirit than thine rules firm and strong; | |
| It throbs in life, and flames out into song, | |
| None e’er before it fluttered thus its pinions! | 75 |
| I also serve and wish it victory glad,— | |
| But why wage war with thee, thou exile sad? | |
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| Thou, whose proud banner but from mouldering wall | |
| Doth lonely float, through the dull air slow-sailing, | |
| Thou the dethroned!—with agitated soul | 80 |
| Down at thy feet, I humbly, sadly fall, | |
| A solemn witness of thy widow’s wailing! | |
| A child, all feverish, of this era new, | |
| Yet for the past piously mourning too! | |
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| Not as a boy!—Only one hour, and lo! | 85 |
| Stretched at thy feet, I ’ll join thee in thy sorrow! | |
| The spirit fresh that through these times doth blow, | |
| I ’ve promised it; it has my word and vow, | |
| My blade must flash yet in the fight to-morrow! | |
| Only one hour!—But that devoted quite | 90 |
| To thee alone, and to thy glory bright. | |
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| There, take me to thee! Take me in thy hold! | |
| Hail, battlements, high in the air up-towering! | |
| Hail, crumbling porches, mossy ruins old! | |
| Hail, castle stern! Thou falcon’s eyry bold! | 95 |
| How do ye wrap my soul with sway o’erpowering! | |
| Yon doth the Pfalz in fiery sunset shine, | |
| The clouds seem castles,—yes! this land is thine! | |
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| A church!—I enter it as in a dream; | |
| The windows, richly stained, are deeply glowing; | 100 |
| The foliaged pillars throw a haughty gleam, | |
| And through the gloomy cloister’s arches dim, | |
| Careless and wild, a garden small is showing; | |
| Blending its azure and its verdure gay | |
| With the cathedral’s ever sombre gray. | 105 |
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| And, softly trembling, nods the shadow light | |
| Of waving boughs, upon the church-wall playing; | |
| Yon is the tomb of lady and of knight, | |
| Their figures, carved in marble, stand upright, | |
| Their hands are raised aloft, as if for praying; | 110 |
| Gently resigned their pallid faces beam, | |
| The peace of death o’er both doth brightly stream. | |
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| A sacred lull!—Bustle and trade far gone! | |
| Romance! behold, my mourning fast is fleeting! | |
| That joy and peace divine, which is not known | 115 |
| To this new age, alas!—to thee alone! | |
| Here I can feel it in my bosom beating; | |
| Earth fades away, and heaven in blissful arms | |
| Doth fold me close,—hushed are all world’s alarms! | |
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| Enough! enough! such haven not for aye! | 120 |
| Back to the present! Great is life’s attraction! | |
| But what this spot into my heart doth lay | |
| May ’t flame forever! In my pulses may | |
| It throb unceasing, hallowing every action! | |
| May ’t give me gladness, strength, and courage free, | 125 |
| When the loud day shall hoarsely summon me! | |
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| Thus will my service of the time be pure! | |
| O exiled maid! with thee I would be grieving; | |
| I came thy shrine to wet with teardrops, sure, | |
| And lo! thou gav’st me power to endure; | 130 |
| Thy peace doth fill me; calmed, behold me leaving! | |
| Thou shedd’st thy light around me, I depart!— | |
| An exile,—but e’en now a queen thou art! | |
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| Farewell to-day! The sunset’s molten gold | |
| Doth flood the aisle; deep-toned the bells are ringing! | 135 |
| Church-banners flutter o’er me half unrolled,— | |
| Ye ever wise, whom all things must be told, | |
| Who therefore ask, what now I have been singing!— | |
| Doth glow the eternal lamp, and incense roll— | |
| Call it a requiem for Brentano’s soul! | 140 |
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