If I depart from this sad sphere, And leave a will behind me here, A suit at law will be preferr'd, But as for thanks,--the deuce a word! So ere I die, I squander all, And that a proper will I call. HIS COMRADE. Hallo there! A glass! Ha! the draught's truly sweet If thou keepest thy shoes, Thou wilt then spare thy feet. A maiden and wine, With sweet music and song, On pavement, are thine, All life's journey along! ----- THE FREEBOOTER, No door has my house, No house has my door; And in and out ever I carry my store. No grate has my kitchen, No kitchen my grate; Yet roasts it and boils it Both early and late. My bed has no trestles, My trestles no bed; Yet merrier moments No mortal e'er led. My cellar is lofty, My barn is full deep, From top to the bottom,-- There lie I and sleep. And soon as I waken, All moves on its race; My place has no fixture, My fixture no place. 1827.* ----- JOY AND SORROW. As a fisher-boy I fared To the black rock in the sea, And, while false gifts I prepared. Listen'd and sang merrily, Down descended the decoy, Soon a fish attack'd the bait; One exultant shout of joy,-- And the fish was captured straight. Ah! on shore, and to the wood Past the cliffs, o'er stock and stone, One foot's traces I pursued, And the maiden was alone. Lips were silent, eyes downcast As a clasp-knife snaps the bait, With her snare she seized me fast, And the boy was captured straight. Heav'n knows who's the happy swain That she rambles with anew! I must dare the sea again, Spite of wind and weather too. When the great and little fish Wail and flounder in my net, Straight returns my eager wish In her arms to revel yet! 1815. ----- MARCH. THE snow-flakes fall in showers, The time is absent still, When all Spring's beauteous flowers, When all Spring's beauteous flowers Our hearts with joy shall fill. With lustre false and fleeting The sun's bright rays are thrown; The swallow's self is cheating: The swallow's self is cheating, And why? He comes alone! Can I e'er feel delighted Alone, though Spring is near? Yet when we are united, Yet when we are united, The Summer will be here. 1817. ----- APRIL. TELL me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking; For ye're saying something sweet, Fit the ravish'd ear to greet, Eloquently, softly speaking. Yet I see now why ye're roving; For behind those eyes so bright, To itself abandon'd quite, Lies a bosom, truthful, loving,-- One that it must fill with pleasure 'Mongst so many, dull and blind, One true look at length to find, That its worth can rightly treasure. Whilst I'm lost in studying ever To explain these cyphers duly,-- To unravel my looks truly In return be your endeavour! 1820. ----- MAY. LIGHT and silv'ry cloudlets hover In the air, as yet scarce warm; Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over,