Blackwood's Edinburgh magazine, Vol. 93, No. 571, May, 1863Various
History
Blackwood's Edinburgh magazine, Vol. 93, No. 571, May, 1863
Various
England -- Periodicals; Scotland -- Periodicals
“Ah, happy happy _she_ to bear
This other glittering toy;
Would that true knight give me to wear
But of his hair a ringlet,
How full were I of joy!”
Ere long the knight came in again,
Did well the ring approve:
“Thou’st made me, goldsmith, best of men,
The gifts with rarest cunning,
For my sweet lady-love.
“Yet would I prove them how they sit;
So prithee, maiden, here
Let me on thee for trial fit
My darling’s bridal jewels:
In beauty she’s thy peer.”
’Twas on a Sunday morn betime;
It happed the maiden fair,
Expectant of the matin chime,
Had donned her best of raiment
With more than wonted care.”
With coyness all aglow, behold
The maid before him stand;
He crowns her with the crown of gold,
The ring upon her finger
He sets, then takes her hand.
“Heléna sweet, Heléna true,
I’ve ended now the jest;
That fairest bride is none but you,
By whom I would the crownlet
And ring should be possest.
“Mid gold and pearl and jewel fine
Hath been thy childhood’s home;
Be this to thee a welcome sign
That thou to heights of honour
With me shalt duly come.”
There is a great dramatic beauty in the accident of the girl having put
on her best apparel to make ready to go to church, so that the knight
has only to furnish her with the bridal accessaries to prepare her at a
moment’s notice to go to church with him.
A ferry-boat is a favourite subject for painters; and the navigation of
his native Neckar has been to Uhland the occasion of some of his
sweetest verse-pictures. In the poem called ‘The Boat’ he shows how a
freight of people, before unacquainted with each other, and therefore
silent, struck up an intimacy, and parted with regret, when some
improvised music had once furnished an introduction.
THE BOAT.
The boat is swiftly going,
Adown the river’s flowing;
No word beguiles the labour,
For no one knows his neighbour.
What pulls from coat the stranger,
The tawny forest-ranger?
A horn that sounds so mildly,
The stream-banks echo wildly.
Then haft and stopper screwing,
His staff to flute undoing,
Another, deftly playing,
Chimes with the cornet’s braying.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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