The humour of Germany; . hts, in rooms surroundedBy the fairest of the fair,He declaims my Heavenly poemsWith a soft abstracted air. Truly, is not this refreshing ?Such young men as him I praiseAre not common; they are growingRare and rarer nowadays. A YOUNG man loves a maidenWho other hopes has fed,And her love loves another love,And to his choice is wed. The maiden marries straightwayThe handiest man to be had,And this is simple her young man is mad. 102 GERMAN HUMOUR. It is an ancient drama, But any time twill fit— Dont play first gentleman unless You want your heart to split
The humour of Germany; . hts, in rooms surroundedBy the fairest of the fair,He declaims my Heavenly poemsWith a soft abstracted air. Truly, is not this refreshing ?Such young men as him I praiseAre not common; they are growingRare and rarer nowadays. A YOUNG man loves a maidenWho other hopes has fed,And her love loves another love,And to his choice is wed. The maiden marries straightwayThe handiest man to be had,And this is simple her young man is mad. 102 GERMAN HUMOUR. It is an ancient drama, But any time twill fit— Dont play first gentleman unless You want your heart to split. Laid on thy snow-white shoulder My head is at rest;And I listen—and know the unquiet Desire of thy breast. The gorgeous hussars have stormed it, And entered without strife !And, to-morrow, a woman will leave me That I love as my life. What tho in the morning she leave me, To-night she is mine—My head is at rest on her shoulder, And her snow^-white arms entwine. Translated by Ernest Radford. VERSES FROM HEINE. 103. BUT THOU WENT ST ON WITH EVEN-STEPPING FEET. Thou wert a blonde-haird maid without a stain,So neat, so prim, so cool! I stayd in vainTo see thy bosoms guarded gates unroll,And Inspiration breathe upon thy soul. A zeal and ardour for those lofty themes,By chilly Reason scornd for airy dreams,But wringing from the noble and the goodThe toil of hand and heart, and brain and blood. 104 GERMAN HUMOUR. On hills with vineyards clambering leafage gay,Glassd in the Rhine we roamed one summer day ;Bright was the sun, and from the shining cupOf every flower a giddy scent flew up. A kiss of fire, a deep voluptuous blush,Burnd on each pink and every rosy bush,Ideal flames in dandelions glowdAnd lit each sorriest weed that edged our road. But thou wentst on with even-stepping feet,Clad in white satin, elegant and neat;No child of Netchers brush more trim and nice,And in thy stays a little heart of ice. Translated by Richard Garnett. ABOUT MONEY. I05 ABOUT MONEY. T^HE world
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