By those arms so white and beauteous Lovingly embraced and closely, To her heart I now am clinging, Dull of feeling and morosely. 81. On the walls of Salamanca Soft refreshing winds are playing; There, with my belovèd Donna, On a summer’s eve I’m straying. Round the fair one’s slender body Doth my arm with rapture linger, And her bosom’s haughty motion Feel I with a loving finger. Yet a whisper fraught with sorrow Through the linden trees is moving, And, beneath, the dusky millstream Murmurs sad dreams, disapproving. “Ah, Señora! a foreboding “Tells me, I shall hence be driven “On the walls of Salamanca “Ne’er again to walk ’tis given.” 82. Thy voice and thine eye, when we first saw each other, Convinced me thou saw’st me with heart not estranged; And had it not been for thy tyrant mother, I think that we kisses should straight have exchanged. To-morrow again I depart from the city, And on, in my olden course, wander I; At the window my fair one is lurking in pity, And friendly greetings I throw up on high. 83. Over the mountains the sun mounts in splendour, Afar sound the bells of the lambs as they stray; My loved one, my lamb, my sun bright and tender, How gladly once more would I see thee to-day! I gaze up on high, with looks fond and loving-- My child, fare thee well, I must wander from thee; In vain! for her curtain is still and unmoving-- She slumbering lieth and dreameth of me. 84. At Halle, in the market Two mighty lions are standing. Thou lion-scorn of Halle, Methinks they’ve tamed thee finely! At Halle, in the market, A mighty giant’s standing. He hath a sword, and moves not, He’s turn’d to stone by terror. At Halle, in the market, A mighty church is standing. The students of each faction Have there a place for praying. 85. Glimm’ring lies the summer even Over wood and verdant meadows, And the gold moon, fragrance shedding, Gleameth from the azure heaven. Crickets at the brook with shrillness Chirp; there’s motion in the water, And the wand’rer hears a splashing, And a breathing in the stillness. Yonder at the lone stream sparkling, See, the beauteous elf is bathing; Arm and neck, so white and lovely, Glisten in the moonbeams darkling. 86. On the strange roads night is lying, Heart is sick and limbs are weary; But the moonbeams, softly vying, Shed their light like blessings cheery. Ah, sweet moon! thy radiant splendour Scares away each terror nightly; All my woes dissolve, and tender Dew o’erflows my eyelids lightly. 87. Death nothing is but cooling night, And life is nought but sultry day; Darkness draws nigh, I slumber Wearied by day’s bright light.