The poems of Heine; Complete: Translated into the original metres; with a sketch of his lifeHeine, Heinrich
General
The poems of Heine; Complete: Translated into the original metres; with a sketch of his life
Heine, Heinrich
German poetry -- Translations into English; Heine, Heinrich, 1797-1856 -- Translations into English
Good servant! up, and saddle quick,
And leap upon thy steed,
And to King Duncan’s castle then
Through plain and forest speed.
Into the stable creep, and wait,
’Till by the helper spied;
Then say: “Of Duncan’s daughters, which
Has just become a bride?”
And if he says: “The brown one ’tis,”
The news bring quickly home;
But if he says: “The fair one ’tis,”
More slowly thou mayst come.
Then go to the ropemaker’s shop,
And buy a rope for me;
And riding slowly, bring it here,
And mute and silent be.
8. TAKING THE BRIDE HOME.
I’ll go not alone, my sweetheart dear!
With me thou must go now
To the cheery, old, and cosy room
In the dreary cold abode of gloom,
Where at the door my mother keeps guard,
And for her son’s return looks hard.
“Away from me, thou gloomy man!
Who bid thee come hither?
Thy hand’s like ice, thine eye glows bright,
Thy breath is burning, thy cheek is white;--
But I would rather my time beguile
With smell of roses and sun’s sweet smile.”
The roses may smell, and the sun may shine,
My darling sweetheart!
Throw thy spreading white veil thy figure around,
Make the chords of the echoing lyre resound,
And sing a wedding song to me;
The night-wind pipes the melody.
9. DON RAMIRO.
“Donna Clara! Donna Clara!
Through long years the hotly-loved one
Thou hast will’d now my destruction,
Will’d it, too, without compassion.
“Donna Clara! Donna Clara!
Very sweet the gift of life is!
But beneath us all is fearful,
In the tomb so dark and chilly.
“Donna Clara, joy! to-morrow
Will Fernando at the altar
As his wedded bride salute thee,--
Wilt thou ask me to the wedding?”
“Don Ramiro! Don Ramiro!
Bitterly thy words are sounding,
Bitt’rer than you stars’ decree is,
Scoffing at my heart’s own wishes.
“Don Ramiro! Don Ramiro!
Shake thy gloomy sadness from thee;
On the earth are many maidens,
But by God have we been parted.
“Don Ramiro, who so bravely
Many Moors hast overpower’d,
Overpower now thyself too,--
Come to-morrow to my wedding.”
“Donna Clara! Donna Clara!
Yes, I swear it, yes, I’ll come there!
And the dance will lead off with thee;--
So good night, I’ll come to-morrow.”
“So good night!”--The window rattled;
Sighing stood below Ramiro,
Seeming turn’d to stone long stood he;
Then he vanish’d in the darkness.
Lastly, after lengthen’d conflict,
Night to day in turn surrender’d;
Like a blooming flowery garden
Lies extended fair Toledo.
Palaces and splendid buildings
Glitter in the radiant sunlight,
And the churches’ domes so lofty
Glisten proudly, as though gilded.
Humming like a busy beehive,
Merrily the bells are sounding;
Sweetly rise the solemn psalm-tunes
From the God-devoted churches.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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