[653:1] I found it not in my power to translate this song with _literal_ fidelity, preserving at the same time the Alcaic Movement, and have therefore added the original with a prose translation. Some of my readers may be more fortunate. _Thekla (spielt und singt)._ Der Eichwald brauset, die Wolken ziehn, Das Mägdlein wandelt an Ufers Grün, Es bricht sich die Welle mit Macht, mit Macht, Und sie singt hinaus in die finstre Nacht, Das Auge von Weinen getrübet: Das Herz ist gestorben, die Welt ist leer, Und weiter giebt sie dem Wunsche nichts mehr. Du Heilige, rufe dein Kind zurück, Ich habe genossen das irdische Glück, Ich habe gelebt und geliebet. LITERAL TRANSLATION. _Thekla (plays and sings)._ The oak-forest bellows, the clouds gather, the damsel walks to and fro on the green of the shore; the wave breaks with might, with might, and she sings out into the dark night, her eye discoloured with weeping: the heart is dead, the world is empty, and further gives it nothing more to the wish. Thou Holy One, call thy child home. I have enjoyed the happiness of this world, I have lived and have loved. I cannot but add here an imitation of this song, with which the author of _The Tale of Rosamond Gray and Blind Margaret_ has favoured me, and which appears to me to have caught the happiest manner of our old ballads. The clouds are black'ning, the storms threat'ning, The cavern doth mutter, the greenwood moan; Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching, Thus in the dark night she singeth alone, Her eye upward roving: The world is empty, the heart is dead surely, In this world plainly all seemeth amiss; To thy heaven, Holy One, take home thy little one, I have partaken of all earth's bliss, Both living and loving. The text of Lamb's version as printed in _Works_, 1818, i. 42 is as follows: BALLAD. FROM THE GERMAN. The clouds are blackening, the storms threatening, And ever the forest maketh a moan: Billows are breaking, the damsel's heart aching, Thus by herself she singeth alone, Weeping right plenteously. The world is empty, the heart is dead surely, In this world plainly all seemeth amiss: To thy breast, holy one, take now thy little one, I have had earnest of all earth's bliss Living most lovingly. _Spring, 1800._ LINENOTES: [1] _Countess (in a pressing manner)._ 1800, 1828, 1829. [3] The latest, &c. [_They not appearing to attend to what she says, she steps between them._ 1800, 1828, 1829. [9] _that_ 1800, 1828, 1829. [15] _Thekla (with energy)._ 1800, 1828, 1829. SCENE VII _COUNTESS (returns), THEKLA._