Der arme Max. (WERNER.)

MAX sat alone by the sea,
his heart rent with deep agony,

to dirges of wild swans replying;
Amalie! Amalie !

sad echo sigh'd back from the sea.
Max cried aloud to the sea:

pale, pale as a snowdrift was he.
hot tears in his eyeballs were drying:
Amalie Amalie!

all hollowly mutter'd the sea.

'I come, o murmuring sea,
I seek quiet comfort in thee,
from earth's cruel enmity flying;
Amalie! Amalie!'

the name died away on the sea.

who walks so late by the sea?
and wails 'woe is me, woe is me'?

fair lost one, for whom art thou crying?

Amalie! Amalie !

seek Max in the dark-rolling sea.

From FALK.

Nicht zur Erde. (AMBROSCH.)

WORLDLY treasures may deceive thee,
earthly cares thy soul oppress;
fickle fortune's change may leave thee
reft of hope and comfortless.
then from this cold earth retreating,
let thy spirit soar on high:

all things here are vain and fleeting:
plume thy pinions, mount the sky.

The Ideal and the Real.

I LAID me idly beside the stream,
and scanned the water in musing dream;
beneath were lilies so fair to see:

how sweet to live in the wave would be!

I looked to heaven: the thin clouds strayed, half shadowy splendour, half sunny shade; they chased each other so merrily: how sweet must life in the blue sky be!

he stood before me a shape of light; scarce dared I look in his eyes so bright, so bright and tender and bent on me: how sweet to live on this earth might be!

Der Leuchtthurm. (SEIDEL.)

THE Lighthouse with its friendly glare peers o'er the raging sea:

dark storm is gathering in the air;

seaman, of rock and reef beware; here shines security.

so Mercy listens from the strand
to life's tempestuous roar :
'here shines the heavenly signal-brand;
here, seaman, is the quiet land.'

few seek that happy shore.

Der Wirthin Töchterlein. (LOEWE.) THREE travellers rose with morning light, and came to an inn ere fall of night. 'hast wine, good landlady, strong and clear, and is not thy fair young daughter here?' 'my wine,' she said, 'is strong and clear: my daughter she lies on her early bier.'. then drew they nigh to the chamber of death; and stood by the pall with stifled breath.

the first he lifted the sable hood,

and gazed on the dead in sorrowing mood:
'ah, had'st thou been living, dear maid, to-day,
I had vowed to love thee, and love for aye.'

the second he dropt the lifted shroud,
and turn'd him away and wept aloud:
'woe's me, that I see thee on thy bier!
I have loved thee fondly for many a year.'
the third he lifted once more the veil,
and kiss'd the maid on her cheek so pale:
'I love thee still, as I loved of yore,
and I vow to love thee for evermore.'

From UHLAND.

Trust in the Lord.

'SHALL the powers of evil rule for ever? shall the shades of darkness vanish never?' behold the wondrous star of Love arise:

'trust in the Lord :

He is thy rock: his mighty Word supplies thy shield and sword.'

Das Veilchen.

A VIOLET fed with morning dew
content in modest sweetness grew;
it was a gentle violet:
with lightsome step and laughing eye
a lovely shepherdess came by
and sang her song right merrily
beside the charmèd violet.

'ah,' thought the violet, 'would I were
of Nature's train the fairest fair,
and not a humble violet ;

so might I be thy choice, and press'd,
all dewy sweetness, to thy breast,
and so for one short day be blest.'
alas, the lovelorn violet !

o woe the while! the careless maid,
she stept within the wocdiand shade,
and crush'd the hapless violet:
it sank and died, and 'oh, how sweet,'
in death it sigh'd, 'my death to meet
from thee, at thy beloved feet!'

it was a tender violet.

From GOETHE.

O legt mich nicht, &c.

O LAY me not in sullen tomb;
not under the damp earth's silent gloom
let my cold form be laid;

o lay me in some mossy shade:
in moss and flowers o let me lie,
where flute-notes sweet at distance die,

and clouds of early spring

their fairy shadows o'er me fling.

From UHLAND.

Secrecy. (KELLER.)

IN silence hoard your secret joy,
whose love is smooth and fair;
for envy watches to destroy
the bliss it cannot share.

the lover's tongue with easy art, the lover's careless eye,

must hide the treasure of his heart
from wakeful jealousy.

so, though my love unrivall'd be,
her name I will not tell,
though soft her smile as witchery,
I boast not of its spell;

for if I said how bright and young

her maiden loveliness,

how rich her voice, how sweet her song, her name you'd surely guess.

no, no one trace I will not tell by which she may be known; for, while I guard the secret well, the bliss is all my own.