"AND WHAT YOU CALL THE SPIRIT OF THE TIME, I'VE LONG SUSPECTED (THEODORE MARTIN'S GOETHE) 66 WE LONG TO USE WHAT Lies beyond our scope,-(GOETHE) REED from the ice are river and hill By the quickening glance of the gracious spring; Green with promise are valley and hill. Back has crept to his mountains bleak, Budding and bursting, and all things strive And the landscape, though bare of flowers, makes cheer With people dressed out in their holiday gear. YET CANNOT USE EVEN WHAT WITHIN IT LIES."-MARTIN'S GOETHE. IS BUT THE SPIRIT OF THE MEN IN WHICH THE TIMES THEY PRATE OF ARE REFLECTED."-MARTIN'S GOETHE. THEY GIVE A BEAUTY TO THE WINTER'S NIGHTS, A CHEERFUL GLOW THAT CAN ITS CHILL ASSUAGE;-(MARTIN'S GOETHE) [From "Faust." The reader may compare this with the prose version of Mr. Hayward, and the poetical version of Lord Leveson Gower.] III. THE FISHER. HE water plashed, the water played, A fisher sat thereby, And marked, as to and fro it swayed, And as he sits and watches there, He sees the floods unclose, She sang to him with witching wile,— Ah! didst thou know how happy we, Thou wouldst come down at once to me, And rest for ever here. "The sun and ladye-moon they lave And, breathing freshness from the wave, Come doubly bright again. WAFT US FROM BOOK TO BOOK, FROM PAGE TO PAGE! AND SOME FINE MANUSCRIPT WHEN YOU UNROLL, AH, THEN ALL HEAVEN DESCENDS INTO YOUR SOUL!"-MARTIN'S GOETHE. "WHO OF SOME CHANCE GREEN LEAVES DOTH CHAPLETS TWINE OF GLORY FOR DESERT IN EVERY FIELD,-(GOETHE) THE SHOWY LIVES ITS LITTLE HOUR; The true-(goethe) MIGNON'S SONG. The deep blue sky, so moist and clear, Hath it for thee no lure? Dost thine own face not woo thee down Unto our waters pure?" The water rushed and bubbled by It lapped his naked feet; He thrilled as though he felt the touch Of maiden kisses sweet. She spoke to him, she sang to him— Resistless was her strain Half-drawn, he sank beneath the wave, And ne'er was seen again. [From "Ballads of Goethe."] 291 ASSURES OLYMPUS, GIVES THE STAMP DIVINE. MAN'S POWER IMMORTAL IN THE BARD REVEALED!"-MARTIN'S Goethe. K IV. MIGNON'S SONG.* [NOWEST thou the land where the pale citron blows A soft wind flutters from the deep blue sky, Oh there, with thee! Oh that I might, my own beloved one, flee! Knowest thou the house? On pillars rest its beams, Oh there, with thee! Oh that I might, my loved protector, flee ! *This has been set to a fine melody by Beethoven. TO AFTER-TIMES BEARS RAPTURES EVER NEW. MARTIN'S GOETHE. NO LEAD ME TO SOME HEAVEN-CALM NOOK, WHERE PURE DELIGHT HATH for the bARD ALONE ITS SOURCE,-(Goethe) 292 "" OH, TELL ME NOT OF YONDER MOTLEY CREW; THEODORE MARTIN. Knowest thou the track that o'er the mountain goes, Topples the crag, and o'er it roars the flood. Oh come with me! There lies our road-O father, let us flee! [From Byron : "Ballads of Goethe." The first lines have been imitated by "Know'st thou the land where the orange and myrtle Bride of Abydos. Mignon's Song is introduced in Goethe's romance of "Wilhelm Meister," bk. iii., c. 1. We subjoin Mr. Carlyle's translation of it : "Know'st thou the land where citron-apples bloom, And oranges like gold in leafy gloom, A gentle wind from deep blue heaven blows, 'Tis there! 'tis there! O my true loved one, thou with me must go! The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall, 'Tis there! 'tis there! O my protector, thou with me must go! "Know'st thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud? 'Tis there! 'tis there! Our way runs; O my father, wilt thou go?" "Wilhelm heard the sound of music before his door. He opened it; YON SURGING THRONG, OH, VEIL IT FROM MY VIEW! WHERE LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP WAKE, REFINE, EXPAND OUR HEART'S BEST BLESSINGS WITH CELESTIAL HAND."-MARTIN'S GOETHE. "WE ARE SO FEARFUL OF THE UNFATHOMABLE!"-MASSEY. "NOT LOST, BUT GONE before." 293 imitate only from afar; its childlike innocence of expression vanished from "She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as if she wished It "THERE MUST BE ISSUES THAT WE DO NOT SEE. THE WHOLE HORIZON OF FUTURITY-(MASSEY) Gerald Massey. [MASSEY is one of the people's poets. He was born at Tring, in Hertfordshire, on the 28th of May 1828, of poor and humble parents, and his early years were spent in a silk-mill and a straw-plait factory. He received the rudiments of education at the National School, and soon acquired a thirst for knowledge which could only be satisfied by drinking deep of "the Pierian spring." In 1843 he repaired to London, gaining his livelihood as an errand-boy, and afterwards as a tradesman, until he felt himself strong enough to trust to his pen for support. His "Voices of Freedom' published in 1849; "The Ballad of Babe Christabel, and other Poems," in 1855; "Craigcrook Castle" in 1856; and "Havelock's March" in 1861. He is also the author of a prose work on "Shakspeare's Sonnets;" and, a year or two ago, issued another volume of poems, entitled "A Tale of Eternity" (1870). His poems are remarkable for their fluency, vividness of expression, tenderness, fire, and opulence of imagery.] " were "NOT LOST, BUT GONE BEFORE." IN this dim world of clouding cares, 66 THE INFINITE IS FULL OF WHISPERINGS!"-GERALD MASSEY. IS NOWHERE VISIBLE FROM WHERE WE STAND; WE ARE BUT DWELLERS IN A LOWLY LAND."-MASSEY. |