From thee I rode: other dreams now.... My loving soul now sad was, And the moon at left my side Companion mine now sad was. To dreaming thus in quiet ever Singers we are given over; Marks thus of superstition Soul's feeling with are in accord! 1829. A PRESENTIMENT. IV. 97. The clouds again are o'er me, Have gathered in the stillness; Again me with misfortune Envious fate now threatens. Will I keep my defiance? Will I bring against her The firmness and patience Of my youthful pride? Wearied by a stormy life I await the storm fretless Perhaps once more safe again A harbor shall I find.... But I feel the parting nigh, Unavoidable, fearful hour, To press thy hand for the last time I haste to thee, my angel. Angel gentle, angel calm, Gently tell me: fare thee well. Be thou grieved: thy tender gaze Either drop or to me raise. The memory of thee now shall To my soul replace The strength, the pride and the hope, The daring of my former days! 1828. [IN VAIN, DEAR FRIEND.] III. 221. In vain, dear friend, to conceal I tried The turmoil cold of my grieving soul; Now me thou knowest; goes by the intoxication. And no longer thee I love.... Vanished for aye the bewitching hours, The beautiful time has passed, Youthful desires extinguished are And lifeless hope is in my heart.... [LOVE'S DEBT.] IV. 101. For the shores of thy distant home Thou hast forsaken the foreign land; In a memorable, sad hour I before thee cried long. Tho' cold my hands were growing Thee back to hold they tried; And begged of thee my parting groan The gnawing weariness not to break. But from my bitter kisses thou Thy lips away hast torn; From the land of exile dreary Calling me to another land. Thou saidst: on the day of meeting Beneath a sky forever blue Olives' shade beneath, love's kisses Again, my friend, we shall unite. But where, alas! the vaults of sky Shining are with glimmer blue, Where 'neath the rocks the waters slumber-- With last sleep art sleeping thou. And beauty thine and sufferings In the urnal grave have disappeared-- But the kiss of meeting is also gone.... But still I wait: thou art my debtor! ... INVOCATION. III. 146. Oh, if true it is that by night When resting are the living And from the sky the rays of moon Along the stones of church-yard glide; O, if true it is that emptied then Are the quiet graves, I call thy shade, I wait my Lila Come hither, come hither, my friend, to me!