Sadly rustle leaf and tree,
When he, while his grief increases,
Nears the forest mournfully.
2. THE MOUNTAIN ECHO.
At sad slow pace across the vale
There rode a horseman brave:
“Ah! travel I now to my mistress’s arms,
Or but to the darksome grave?”
The echo answer gave:
“The darksome grave!”
And farther rode the horseman on,
With sighs his thoughts express’d:
“If I thus early must go to my grave,
Yet in the grave is rest.”
The answering voice confess’d:
“The grave is rest!”
Adown the horseman’s furrow’d cheek
A tear fell on his breast:
“If rest I can only find in the grave,
For me the grave is best.”
The hollow voice confess’d:
“The grave is best!”
3. THE TWO BROTHERS.
On the mountain summit darkling
Lies the castle, veil’d in night;
Lights are in the valley sparkling,
Clashing swords are gleaming bright.
Brothers ’tis, who in fierce duel
Fight, with wrath to fury fann’d;
Tell me why these brothers cruel
Strive thus madly, sword in hand?
By the eyes of Countess Laura
Were they thus in strife array’d;
Both with glowing love adore her—
Her, the noble, beauteous maid.
Unto which now of the brothers
Is her heart the most inclined?
She her secret feelings smothers—
Out, then, sword, the truth to find!
And they fight with rage despairing,
Blows exchange with savage might;
Take good heed, ye gallants daring—
Mischief walks abroad by night.
Woe, O woe, ye brothers cruel!
Woe, O woe, thou vale abhorr’d!
Both fall victims in the duel,
Falling on each other’s sword.
Races are to dust converted,
Many centuries have flown,
And the castle, now deserted,
Sadly from the mount looks down.
But at night-time in the valley
Wondrous forms appear again;
At the stroke of twelve, forth sally
To the fight the brothers twain.
4. POOR PETER.
I.
While Hans and Grettel are dancing with glee,
And each of them loudly rejoices,
Poor Peter looks as pale as can be,
And perfectly mute his voice is.
While Hans and Grettel are bridegroom and bride,
And glitter in smart ostentation,
Poor Peter must still in his working dress bide,
And bites his nails with vexation.
Then softly Peter said to himself,
As he gazed on the couple sadly:
“Ah, had I not been such a sensible elf,
It had fared with my life but badly!”
II.
“Within my breast there sits a woe
That seems my breast to sever;
Where’er I stand, where’er I go,
It drives me onward ever.
“It makes me tow’rd my loved one fly,
As if she could restore me;
Yet when I gaze upon her eye,
My sorrows rise before me.
“I clamber up the mountain now,
In lonely sorrow creeping,
And standing silent on its brow,
I cannot cease from weeping.”
III.
Poor Peter slowly totters by,
Pale as a corpse, and stealthily;
The very people in the street
Stand still, when his sad form they meet.
The maidens whisper’d as they pitied:
“The grave he has this moment quitted.”
Ah no, my dear young maidens fair,
He’s just about to lie down there!
As he is of his love bereft,
The grave’s the best place that is left,
Where he his aching heart may lay,
And sleep until the Judgment Day.
5. THE PRISONER’S SONG.
When my grandmother once had bewitch’d a poor girl,
The mob would have burnt her quite readily;
But though fiercely the judge his mustachios might twirl,
She refused to confess her crime steadily.
And when in the caldron they held her fast,
She shouted and yell’d like a craven;
But when the black vapour arose, she at last
Flew up in the air as a raven.
My black and feathery grandmother dear,
O visit me soon in this tower!
Quick, fly through the grating, and come to me here,
And bring me some cakes to devour!
My black and feathery grandmother dear,
O prythee protect me from sorrow!
For my aunt will be picking my eyes out, I fear,
When I merrily soar hence to-morrow.
6. THE GRENADIERS
Two grenadiers