On many a blissful day; Then let me pass the night in tears, Till tears are wip'd away! 1803.* ----- NIGHT SONG, WHEN on thy pillow lying, Half listen, I implore, And at my lute's soft sighing, Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? For at my lute's soft sighing The stars their blessings pour On feelings never-dying; Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? Those feelings never-dying My spirit aid to soar From earthly conflicts trying; Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? From earthly conflicts trying Thou driv'st me to this shore; Through thee I'm thither flying,-- Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? Through thee I'm hither flying, Thou wilt not list before In slumbers thou art lying: Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? 1803.* ----- LONGING. WHAT pulls at my heart so? What tells me to roam? What drags me and lures me From chamber and home? How round the cliffs gather The clouds high in air! I fain would go thither, I fain would be there! The sociable flight Of the ravens comes back; I mingle amongst them, And follow their track. Round wall and round mountain Together we fly; She tarries below there, I after her spy. Then onward she wanders, My flight I wing soon To the wood fill'd with bushes, A bird of sweet tune. She tarries and hearkens, And smiling, thinks she: "How sweetly he's singing! He's singing to me!" The heights are illum'd By the fast setting sun; The pensive fair maiden Looks thoughtfully on; She roams by the streamlet, O'er meadows she goes, And darker and darker The pathway fast grows. I rise on a sudden, A glimmering star; "What glitters above me, So near and so far?" And when thou with wonder Hast gazed on the light, I fall down before thee, Entranced by thy sight! 1803. ----- TO MIGNON. OVER vale and torrent far Rolls along the sun's bright car. Ah! he wakens in his course Mine, as thy deep-seated smart In the heart. Ev'ry morning with new force. Scarce avails night aught to me; E'en the visions that I see Come but in a mournful guise; And I feel this silent smart In my heart With creative pow'r arise. During many a beauteous year I have seen ships 'neath me steer, As they seek the shelt'ring bay; But, alas, each lasting smart In my heart Floats not with the stream away. I must wear a gala dress, Long stored up within my press, For to-day to feasts is given; None know with what bitter smart Is my heart Fearfully and madly riven. Secretly I weep each tear, Yet can cheerful e'en appear, With a face of healthy red; For if deadly were this silent smart In my heart, Ah, I then had long been dead! ----- THE MOUNTAIN CASTLE. THERE stands on yonder high mountain A castle built of yore, Where once lurked horse and horseman In rear of gate and of door. Now door and gate are in ashes, And all around is so still; And over the fallen ruins I clamber just as I will. Below once lay a cellar,