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tain deranged arrangement in it which to say, all that unsophisticated freshwe long to call chaotic. It is the per- ness, all that simplicity of language fection of magnificent inanity.
and integrity of sentiment, which we This taint, however, it is but justice conceive to be the richest ornaments to state, has not ulcerated the whole the poet can decorate his page with. body of German poetry. The volume They are also distinguished for an before us is in a great degree exempt elevated tone of moral principle-in from it. Here we have evidence that this age no slight praise. We have the streams of Castaly may flow as perhaps detained our readers too long purely through German channels as from the perusal of such of these prothrough any other. The productions ductions as we can afford space for of Salis and Matthisson--honoured be here. We commence, then, with a their names !-breathe, we are happy piece by Salis.
“ Seht! Wie die Tage sich sonnig verklären !"
Blue is the firmament-green is the earth
Nature is ringing with music and mirth.
Gaze! and if Beauty can capture thy soul,
Gladness, Philosophy's guerdon and goal.
List! how she thrills in the nightingale's lay!
Feel! she is cool in the rivulet's play ;
Flows the red rill in the beams of the sun-
Look! she is always and everywhere one.
Over the cheeks that should rosily bloom;
Suffer his lamp to be quenched in the tomb ?
Still hath Philanthropy much to essay :
Rest will pavilion the end of our way.
Legion-like, darken this planet of ours,
Ever when Anguish hath palsied its powers;
Soar o'er the stars on the pinions of Hope,
Over the stars thy desires shall have scope.
Still is God's Earth undistorted and bright;
Thus shalt thou reap the more perfect delight.
Purity only its rapture should share;
All that is just and exalted and fair.
Act!—for in Action are Wisdom and Glory;
Fame, Immortality—these are its crown:
Build on achIEVEMENTS thy Dome of Renown.
Cherish them, then, though all else should decay :
Stars that will shine on thy duskiest day.
Preshen the spirit, as showers the grove :
Soon the Forget-Me-Not rises in love.
Innocence, dreadless of danger beneath,
Smiles through the ruin on Darkness and Death. Penned in a milder and sadder tory of Good over Ill in a more harspirit
, though not, perhaps, in one less monious world than this, are the few disposed to recognise the ultimate vic- lines entitled
THE GRAVE. (SALIS.)
“ Das Grab ist tief und stille."
And canopied over with clouds ;
Is the Unknown Land that it shrouds.
Their songs—the roses of Love
The living have reared above.
Of him she has loved, may weep :
It breaks not the buried one's sleep.
For Peace unavailingly roam :
Goeth none to his genuine home!
Have beaten against for years
Beyond this Temple of Tears. In conjunction with these verses we are at least agreeable to the ear, from shall give the following, which, with- the untroubled flow of the rhyme and out pretensions to much originality, measure :
A LAY OF LIFE. (Matthisson.)
“ Kommen und Scheiden."
Dreaming and Groping,
Trembling and Hoping,
Vainly for Peace on
Earth dost thou struggle!
Dupe thee and juggle;
Then from this lowly
Blow for the Noble ;
Bark hath no trouble.
Firmly to suffer,
Smoother and rougher,
The feelings of Matthisson as a poet are occasionally tinged with melan. appear to have been rarely excited choly; but it is not the melancholy of beyond that equable, though by no despair or even of common human means everyday level, which best quali- grief that shades the page: it is the fies a man to appreciate at their fair overfowing of a heart whose yearnworth all the blessings around him, ings for the Beautiful “nought under without leaving him in any great de- Heaven's wide hollowness" can satisfy, gree liable to be injured by the shocks and whose longings after the unobtainhe may encounter through existence. able sympathy of the Fair, the ExcelTo the hurricane and turmoil both of the lent, and the Noble, of all centuries physical world and the human passions and countries, though German enough, he is a happy stranger. He is the ama- perhaps, in their character to excite nuensis of Nature in her mildest moods, a smile in us, are as deep a spring and he chooses poetry as the medium of pain to him as the severest trials of her thousand-voiced communications of Life can be to the worldly-minded. to mankind. He is rejoiced when he Hence, though the Elegy is a favourite listens to the carol of the lark, and form of composition with Matthisson, he glad because he sees that the prim- does not sorrow for the dead" as one who roses are blowing ; "his heart leaps up hath no hope;" for his sentiments are, in when he beholds a rainbow in the their darkest phases, rather sad than sky;" and, if he can also weep as he gloomy; while the Laments that he hears the mould fall upon the coffin pours forth to the living, though unof a brother, his tears, though sincere, surpassed for pathos, exhibit not half are neither bitter nor exhaustless, for the despondency and bitterness of he is a believer in the promised Re- which such subjects might be supposed surrection. He does not like too susceptible. One of these--the Vergisz many, detect the flavour of poison in mein nicht—is a piece of such a tine every draught that the wells of hu- and solemn order, that we cannot withmanity supply him with : he is evi- hold it here, although, as addressed dently unwilling to suspect that any- to an individual, and embracing many thing unholy or polluted can emanate local topics, it may, probably, appear difrom such a source. True, his effusions vested of a portion of its proper beauty.
FORGET ME NOT.
I float, a leaf, along the world's wide sea :
Let that fond heart of thine remember me.
And I afar, Forget me not !
Thy light steps move where Youth and Beauty bloom ;
Of Eve shall robe thy lonesome bower in gloom.
Loved Marianne, Forget me not!
When Nature, garland-crowned, speaks with divinest voice,
And bids thy gentle spirit in its depths rejoice.
* Forget me not! Forget me not !"
Forget me not when Memory sweetly lingers
On that loved haunt, by both remembered well, The spot where first I touched thy fairy fingers
Remember, Marianne, the darkling pine-tree dell ! What happiness was mine when first I pressed Thy band! and dared to raise it to a breast Wherein that warm pulse beats which now dictates this thought
“Oh, Marianne, Forget me not !”
Forget me not when sauntering by that lone
Gate which the tall wild weeds encircle wreathingly,
As on the chaliced flowrets bangs the amorous bee :
Then, Marianne, Forget me not !
Where droops the cypress there my spirit hovers,
Beside that grave which once we loitered nigh, na The pale day sank, too drearily for lovers,
But Holiness and Peace were in thy soul and eye. The spirit of thy mother blessed thee then, oh, maiden! Thy heart felt tranquillized, while mine, alas, was laden With many a dark foreshadowing of my future lot
Yet, Marianne, Forget me not! VOL. VI.
Rememberest thou the evening? Thoughts that Speech expresses
So vaguely and so ill were swelling in thy bosom;
There was no moaning voice that night on flower or blossom .
“ My Marianne, Forget me not !"
Shews clear and pure and placid as the enamelled Night, Which then shone down upon those consecrated hours,
Hours garnered in my memory as her best delight, That strong and calm devotion which ennobled Love, And saved from wronging stain the sacred garland of Homage I proffered then to Virtue, Truth, and thee
Then, Marianne, Remember me!
That strong and calm devotion sanctifies me now:
Oh! ne'er in saintly bosom burned a holier glow
Thou camest, as from Heaven, to illume dark Earth below.
“ Oh, Marianne, Remember me !"
Not in the smile-not in the favoring glance
Not in the enthralling magic of thy greeting Not in that queenly form transcending all romance,
Which rose where slim young boughs and blossom gauze were meetingNot in the fascinating graces of thy mien The enchantment lay ;--the mind, that melodist unseen First woke the chord of Love which now breathes whisperingly
“My Marianne, Remember me !"
This high existence—this ethereal essence
This wonder-sphere of harmonies Elysian,
This, only this shall live unwaning in my vision,
"Ah, Marianne, Remember me !"
Peace round thee be! But tenfold woe to those
Who waken anguish in a heart like thine,
With goodness and benevolence divine :
My Marianne, Forget me not!
Here, underneath the greenery of the vine,
My hand and heart have reared a monument to thee! Here oft I sweetly dream, oft sadly 'pine,
But all my thoughts are born for immortality,