TRANSLATIONS FROM SCHILLER. The Maiden from the far Countrie. THERE came with every opening Spring, Soon as the larks began to sing, A maiden wonderful and fair. She was no native of the vale, And whence she came no shepherd knew; For ever, as she left the dale, All traces of her vanished too. She was a blessing to behold! To her all hearts were opened wide; Yet no one durst be over-bold, Her sweetness was so dignified. And ripest fruits and richest flowers She carried in her bounteous hand, Which warmer suns and milder showers Had nurtured in some fairer land. Whoever would might freely come; She gladly welcomed every guest; And none who came went empty home, The young and old alike were blest. But, when there came some loving pair- To them she gave the richest share, Theirs was the crown of fairest flowers. The Dividing of the Earth. To men spake Jove on high, the bounteous giver :"Take the round Earth; it shall be yours, I swear, To you I give it--to be held for ever But grudge to none his share." At the glad word both young and old upbounded, The merchant took the goods in which he traded; At last long after all had been decided- "Woe's me! am I the only one remaining Undowered, and yet thy most devoted child?" Thus wailed he out to Jove his loud complaining, With bitter grief and wild. "If thro' the land of dreams thou wilt be gliding,' Replied the god, "lay not the blame on me; Where wert thou, when the Earth was a-dividing?" The Poet said, “With THEE! "The beauty of Thy face mine eye was praising; "What shall I do?" cried Jove, "the world is given ; The harvest, chase, and mart are mine no more; Come, dwell with me in my own beauteous Heaven! Come when thou wilt, thou'lt find an open door!" The Pilgrim. SPRING-LEAVES in youth's tangled wildwood All my heritage, forsaking, For a mighty hope possessed me, "Till thou reach a golden gateway, Then thy pilgrimage is done; There the heavens and earth will straightway Meet, and be for ever one!" On I journeyed-morn till even- But ever hath remained still hidden In my path lay mountain-ridges, And o'er ravines wild and steep. Then I reached a shining river, Its gleaming waters quickly bore me Ah! thither no bridge leads us mortals; Ah! those heavens so sweet and clear Will never touch this Earth's dark portals, And our THERE is never here! Punch Song. FOUR simple elements, With vigour rife, Build up the universe, Shape all its life. Press the juice of the lemon From out of the core; Life's innermost kernel Then with sweet sugar, And burning strength. Pour sparkling water Into the bowl, Water encircles Quietly the whole. A drop of pure spirit Ere it evaporates Quick drink it up! Only whilst sparkling, Refreshes the cup. The Archer's Song. WITH his bow and arrow, Over hill and dale, As the kite is sovereign, In the air-domain; So through glen and mountain Doth the archer reign. |