My neighbour’s curtain, well I see,

Is moving to and fin.
No doubt she’s list′ning eagerly,

If I’m at home or no.

And if the jealous grudge I bore

And openly confess’d,
Is nourish’d by me as before,

Within my inmost breast.

Alas! no fancies such as these

E′er cross’d the dear child’s thoughts.
I see ‘tis but the ev’ning breeze

That with the curtain sports.

1803.

A FEAST was in a village spread,–
It was a wedding-day, they said.
The parlour of the inn I found,
And saw the couples whirling round,
Each lass attended by her lad,
And all seem′d loving, blithe, and glad;
But on my asking for the bride,
A fellow with a stare, replied:
“‘Tis not the place that point to raise!

We’re only dancing in her honour;
We now have danced three nights and days,

And not bestowed one thought upon her.”

* * * *

Whoe’er in life employs his eyes
Such cases oft will recognise.

1821.*

CARELESSLY over the plain away,
Where by the boldest man no path
Cut before thee thou canst discern,
Make for thyself a path!

Silence, loved one, my heart!
Cracking, let it not break!
Breaking, break not with thee!

1776.*

RHYMED DISTICHS.

[The Distichs, of which these are given as a
specimen, are about forty in number.]

WHO trusts in God,
Fears not His rod.

THIS truth may be by all believed:
Whom God deceives, is well deceived.

HOW? when? and where?–No answer comes from high
Thou wait’st for the Because, and yet thou ask’st not Why?

IF the whole is ever to gladden thee,
That whole in the smallest thing thou must see.

WATER its living strength first shows,
When obstacles its course oppose.

TRANSPARENT appears the radiant air,
Though steel and stone in its breast it may bear;
At length they’ll meet with fiery power,
And metal and stones on the earth will shower.
——
WHATE’ER a living flame may surround,
No longer is shapeless, or earthly bound.
‘Tis now invisible, flies from earth,
And hastens on high to the place of its birth.

1815.*

WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear?
The father it is, with his infant so dear
He holdeth the boy tightly clasp’d in his arm,
He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.

“My son, wherefore seek’st thou thy face thus to hide?”
“Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!
Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?”
“My son, ‘tis the mist rising over the plain.”

“Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!
Full many a game I will play there with thee;
On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold,
My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold.”

“My father, my father, and dost thou not hear
The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?”
“Be calm, dearest child, ‘tis thy fancy deceives;
‘Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves.”

“Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?
My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care
My daughters by night their glad festival keep,
They’ll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep.”

“My father, my father, and dost thou not see,
How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?”
“My darling, my darling, I see it aright,
‘Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight.”

“I love thee, I’m charm’d by thy beauty, dear boy!
And if thou′rt unwilling, then force I’ll employ.”
“My father, my father, he seizes me fast,
Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last.”

The father now gallops, with terror half wild,
He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child;
He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,–
The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.

1782.*