There the tailor blows the flute, * * * * * And then the landlord's daughter Up to heaven raised her hand, And said, "Ye may no more contend,— There lies the happiest land!" THE WAVE. FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE. "WHITHER, thou turbid wave? "I am the Wave of Life, To wash from me the slime Of the muddy banks of Time." THE DEAD. FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK. How they so softly rest, All, all the holy dead, Now doth my soul draw near! All in their silent graves, And they no longer weep, Here, where complaint is still! And they no longer feel, Here, where all gladness flies! And, by the cypresses Softly o'ershadowed, Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber! THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. FROM THE GERMAN OF MÜLLER. "THE rivers rush into the sea, The clouds are passing far and high, I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither or whence, Full and swollen is every sail; I see no longer a hill, I have trusted all to the sounding gale, And it will not let me stand still. And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall, For full to sinking is my house With merry companions all." “I need not and seek not company, Bonny boat, I can sing all alone; High over the sails, high over the mast, When thy merry companions are still, at last, Who neither may rest, nor listen may, I dart away, in the bright blue day, Thus do I sing my weary song, And this same song, my whole life long, WHITHER? FROM THE GERMAN OF MULLER. I HEARD a brooklet gushing I know not what came o'er me, Downward, and ever farther, Is this the way I was going? What do I say of a murmur? 'Tis the water-nymphs, that are singing Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur, And wander merrily near; The wheels of a mill are going |