By bowers of birds, and groves of pine, May num'rous herds and flocks be seen, And shepherds piping in the dale, And hearts resolved, and hands prepar'd, The blessings they enjoy to guard. TOBIAS SMOLLETT, 1720-1771. SONG. FROM THE GERMAN. See the rocky spring, Clear as joy, Like a sweet star gleaming! O'er the clouds, he In his youth was cradled By good spirits, 'Neath the bushes in the cliffs. Fresh with youth From the cloud he dances Down upon the rocky pavement; Thence, exulting, Leaps to heaven. For a while he dallies Round the summit, Through its little channels chasing There, all round him in the vale, Wakes to feel his breath. But him holds no shady vale Arms outstretched, alas! in vain, To embrace his longing ones; "Come ye all, then!" Now, more proudly, On he swells; a countless race, they Onward with incessant roaring, Flaming turrets, marble mansions- Cedar houses bears this Atlas And so bears he all his brothers, Translation of J. S. DWIGHT. JOHANN WOLFGANG V. GOETHE, 1749-1882. THE RIVULET. FROM THE SPANISH. Stay, rivulet, nor haste to leave The lovely vale that lies around thee! Why wouldst thou be a sea at eve, When but a fount the morning found thee? Born when the skies began to glow, Humblest of all the rock's cold daughters, Now on thy stream the moonbeams look, To that vast grave with quicker motion. Far better 'twere to linger still In this green vale these flowers to cherish, Than thus, a youthful Danube, perish. |