Poems and Ballads of Heinrich Heine Part 9

Amazed they all appeared; The gossiping aunts and cousins Remarked the fact, and sneered.

XVIII.

Upon the far horizon Like a picture of the mist, Appears the towered city By the twilight shadows kissed.

The moist, soft breezes ripple Our boat's wake gray and dark, With mournful measured cadence The boatman rows my bark.

The sun from clouds outs.h.i.+ning, Lights up once more the coast.

The very spot it shows me Where she I loved was lost.

XIX.

All hail to thee, thou fairest And most mysterious town!

That once inclosed my dearest Within thy gateways brown.

Speak out, ye towers and portals!

My sweetheart, where is she?

I left her in your keeping; Ye should my warders be.

The towers are not guilty, For rooted fast were they.

When sweetheart, with trunks and luggage, So quickly stole away.

The gates gave willing pa.s.sage, With noiseless bars and locks.

A door will always open, When the adorer knocks.

XX.

I tread the dear familiar path, The old road I have taken; I stand before my darling's house, Now empty and forsaken.

Oh far too narrow is the street, The roofs seem tottering downward.

The very pavement burns my feet; I hurry faster onward.

XXI.

Here to her vows I listened, I tread the empty halls, And where her tear-drops glistened, The poisoned serpent crawls.

XXII.

The quiet night broods over roof-tree and steeple; Within this house dwelt my treasure rare.

'Tis long since I left the town and its people, But the house stands still on the self-same square.

Here stands, too, a man; toward heaven he gazes, And he wrings his hands with a wild despair.

I shudder with awe when his face he raises, For the moonlight shows me mine own self there.

Oh, pale sad creature! my ghost, my double, Why dost thou ape my pa.s.sion and tears, That haunted me here with such cruel trouble, So many a night in the olden years?

XXIII.

How can'st thou slumber calmly, Whilst I alive remain?

My olden wrath returneth, And then I snap my chain.

Know'st thou the ancient ballad Of that dead lover brave, Who rose and dragged his lady At midnight to his grave?

Believe me, I am living; And I am stronger far, Most pure, most radiant maiden, Than all the dead men are.

XXIV.

The maiden sleeps in her chamber, Where the trembling moonbeams glance, Without there singeth and ringeth The melody of a dance.

"I will look just once from the window, To see who breaks my rest."

A skeleton fiddles before her, And sings like one possessed.

"To dance with me you promised, And you have broken your vow.

To-night is a ball in the churchyard, Come out and dance with me now."

The music bewitches the maiden; Forth from her home doth she go; She follows the bony fiddler, Who sings as he sc.r.a.pes his bow.

He fiddles, and hops and dances, And rattles his bones as he plays; His skull nods grimly and strangely, In the clear moonlight's rays.

XXV.

I gazed upon her portrait, While dark dreams filled my brain, And those beloved features Began to breathe again.

I saw upon her lips then A wondrous smile arise, And as with tears of pity Glistened once more her eyes.

Adown my cheeks in silence, The tears came flowing free.

And oh! I cannot believe it, That thou art lost to me!

XXVI.

I, a most wretched Atlas, the huge world, The whole huge world of sorrow I must carry.

Yea, the unbearable must bear, though meanwhile My heart break in my bosom.

Thou haughty heart, thyself hast willed it thus, Thou would'st be happy, infinitely happy, Or infinitely wretched, haughty heart!

And lo! now art thou wretched.

XXVII.

The years are coming and going, Whole races are home to their rest; But never ceases the pa.s.sion That burns within my breast.