Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 26, November, 1880Various
History
Lippincott's Magazine of Popular Literature and Science, Vol. 26, November, 1880
Various
Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- Periodicals
Warum sind denn die Rosen so blass,
O sprich, mein Lieb, warum?
Warum sind denn im grünen Gras
Die blauen Veilchen so stumm?
Warum singt denn mit so kläglichem Laut
Die Lerche in der Luft?
Warum steigt denn aus dem Balsamkraut
Hervor ein Leichenduft?
Warum scheint denn die Sonn' auf die Au
So kalt und verdriesslich herab?
Warum ist denn die Erde so grau
Und öde wie ein Grab?
Warum bin ich selbst so krank und so trüb,
Mein liebes Liebchen? Sprich!
O sprich, mein herzallerliebstes Lieb,
Warum verliessest du mich?
Heine could never write in any of the classic metres, and an amusing
anecdote is related by Maximilian Heine, the younger brother of the
poet, of an attempt once made by the latter at hexameter verse. This
brother, Max, was at the time in one of the upper classes of the
Gymnasium, and, pluming himself greatly on his own proficiency in the
composition of hexameters, urged the young poet to try his skill in the
same direction. Heine complied, and came in due time to read to his
brother the result of his efforts. Hardly had he reached the third line
when Max broke forth impatiently: "For Heaven's sake, dear brother,
this hexameter has but five feet!" and he pompously scanned the verse.
When convinced of his error Heinrich petulantly tore the paper into
bits, exclaiming, "Shoemaker, stick to your last!" and nothing more
was heard about hexameters until two days later, when Max was awakened
early one morning to find his brother at his bedside. "Ah, dear Max,"
he began with a piteous air, "what a fearful night have I passed! Only
think! Directly after midnight, just as I had gone to sleep, I felt
a mountain's weight upon me: the unhappy hexameter had come limping
on five feet to my bedside, demanding of me, in terrible tones and
with the most fearful threats, its sixth foot. Shylock could not have
insisted more obstinately upon his pound of flesh. It appealed to its
primeval classic right, and left me with the most frightful menaces,
only on condition that I never again in my whole life would meddle with
a hexameter."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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