Leonora
FROM THE GERMAN OF BÜRGER.
From heavy dreams, sad Leonore
Rose with the dawning day:
Her heart oppressed by boding fears
At Wilhelm's long delay.
With Frederic's force her soldier went
To meet his country's foe;
And since, no tidings had he sent
To tell of weal or woe.
The king and the proud empress-queen,
Weary of endless war,
At length renounce their fruitless strife
And welcome peace once more.
The weary, toil-worn warriors come,
Rejoicing on their way;
With blare of trump and beat of drum,
In oaken garlands gay.
And every way-side, every path,
Is thronged with eager feet,
Of friends and kindred, hurrying forth
The coming host to meet.
The lover greets his plighted bride;
But ah! for poor Leonore, —
No greeting to her pallid lips
Shall bring the roses more.
She wandered up and down the road,
To frantic fears a prey
And vainly questioned all that came,
Throughout that weary day;
The army now had all passed by!
She tore her raven hair,
She threw herself upon the earth,
In desolate despair.
The mother folds her to her heart,
And seeks with counsels vain
Some word of comfort to impart
To soothe her darling's pain.
" Oh mother, what is lost is lost!
Now Earth and Heaven may go.
There is no pitying God in Heaven —
No love for aught below. "
" Peace, peace! who know the Father's love,
Knows he can aid impart; —
The blessed sacrament shall soothe
Thy pierced and bleeding heart. "
" No balm upon this burning heart
The sacrament can pour! —
No sacrament to love and life
The cold, cold dead restore.
" Oh mother, would my lamp of life
Would sink in endless night!
How shall I loathe the midnight gloom
And loathe the morning light!
And what, to me, is Heaven's bliss.
And what, to me, is Hell;
With him, with him is happiness,
And oh, without him, Hell! "
" Perchance, dear child, he loves no more,
And wandering far and wide,
Hath sought, upon a foreign shore,
To wed a foreign bride. "
" Oh mother, what is lost is lost!
There is no pitying love —
No joy in life, no balm in death —
No hope in Heaven above.
" Go out, life's light, — forever out;
Die, die, in night and dread!
There is no pitying God in Heaven;
Would, would that I were dead! "
Thus raged the frenzy of despair
Within her burning brain —
Thus with God's righteous providence
She strove in anguish vain.
She beat her breast and tore her hair
Till the long day was done, —
Till in the West the silent stars
Came twinkling one by one.
She sat within her lonely room,
Nor marked the dying day,
Till the moon's light, o'er tower and height,
In silver glory lay.
When lo! she hears a courser's hoofs
Ring on the frozen ground:
A knight alights before the gate —
His clanging arms resound.
And hark! a low and soft " kling ling "
Sounds through the silent room!
And hark! a well known voice she hears
Beside her in the gloom!
" What ho! Leonore: unbar the door; —
Art watching or asleep? —
Doth my fair bride forget her vows,
Or fear her vows to keep? "
" Ah Wilhelm, thou! so late at night?
Oh, I have watched and wept;
What from thy Leonora's side
So long her love hath kept! "
" From far Hungarian fields I come
On my lone midnight ride,
To bear thee to thy distant home;
Away, away my bride! "
" The wind blows through the hawthorn bush;
In whistles loud and shrill;
Come in, and warm thee in my arms;
Ah! why so cold and still? "
" Let the wind through the hawthorn blow,
Or howl across the mere;
The black horse paws, and clank the spurs,
I dare not linger here.
Come, don thy snow-white robes with speed,
And swiftly mount behind;
We ride a hundred leagues ere day,
Our bridal bed to find! "
" And must we ride a hundred leagues
To reach our bridal bower?
Hark! even now, the booming bell
Tolls out the midnight hour. "
" Ha! dost thou fear? — the moon shines clear;
Soon will our course be sped!
I bear thee to our bridal home
And to our bridal bed. "
" Ah! tell me where the bridal hall,
And where the couch is spread? "
" Far, far from here; cold, narrow, drear,
Lies our low marriage bed! "
" Hast room for me? " " For thee and me;
Come, busk thee, darling bride;
The wedding guests are waiting,
The door stands open wide. "
The maiden donned her bridal robes;
On the black steed she sprung,
And round the knight her snowy arms
In trembling silence flung.
And on they gallop, fast and far,
Nor mount nor stream their course can bar;
While horse and rider pant and blow;
The fire-sparks flashing as they go.
The crags shoot by, — the castles fly, —
The rattling hoofs resound;
The bridges thunder 'neath their tread,
And rings the hollow ground.
" Ha! doth my Leonora fear
With her true love to ride?
The midnight moon shines cold and clear —
The dead ride swift, my bride! "
Hark! wailings float upon the air,
And hollow dirges ring!
Why tolls the bell that solemn knell,
Why flaps the raven's wing?
Lo, sweeping o'er the lonely moor,
A dark funereal train!
They chant a requiem o'er the bier, —
A hoarse, sepulchral strain.
" Bury your dead when midnight's past,
With wild lament and prayer;
To-night I wed a fearless bride,
Our banquet ye shall share.
Come, priest and choir, and mourners all,
Come, crone the marriage song;
Come, priest, and bless the bridal bed,
And join the merry throng. "
Now fades into the dusky air
The coffin and the pall;
They sweep along, a ghostly throng,
The mourners, priest, and all;
And faster, faster, still they speed,
O'er wild morass and moonlight mead,
While horse and rider pant and blow,
The fire sparks flashing as they go!
How swiftly, on the right and left,
The mountains hurry by;
How swiftly, on the right and left,
Town, tower, and forest fly!
" Doth my love fear? the moon shines clear;
Ah ha! dost fear the dead?
The dead ride swift, — hurrah! hurrah! "
" Ah, speak not of the dead! "
Now, where the moonbeams faintly fall,
Yon frantic rabble see;
How fearfully they wheel and spin,
Beneath the gallows-tree!
" Halloo, halloo! ye grisly crew,
Come here, and follow me;
Around us prance a fetter-dance,
And quit the gallows-tree. "
And now, across the moonlit waste,
They hurry on behind;
A sound like dry and withered leaves,
Low rustling in the wind.
And onward, onward still they speed,
Nor rock nor stock their course impede;
While horse and rider pant and blow,
The fire-sparks flashing as they go!
Fast flies the quiet moonlight scene,
Fast, fast and far, it flies;
Fast fly the fleecy clouds above,
And fast the starry skies.
" Ah! dost thou fear? — the moon shines clear;
And fast the dead can ride. "
" Oh, name the dead no more! " " Ah, ha!
Dost fear the dead, my bride?
" Methinks I smell the morning air,
And hark! the cock doth crow!
Then onward speed, my trusty steed!
Haste, haste! our sands run low.
Our race is run, our course is done,
And we are at the goal;
Swift ride the dead, — hurrah, hurrah!
Come, priest, bind soul to soul! "
Up to a gloomy portal now,
With slackened rein they ride;
When lo! the massive bar and bolt
Back from their staples glide.
And as the dark and sounding door
Upon its hinges turns,
She sees, in the moon's glimmering light,
Gray tombs and moldering urns.
Suddenly, from the rider's form,
By some unearthly spell,
The welded armor, piece by piece,
In shivered fragments fell.
She sees a hideous skeleton,
A ghastly Horror, stand
Before her glazing eyes revealed, —
An hour-glass in his hand.
High reared the fiery, frantic steed,
And trembled with affright;
Then sank into the yawning earth,
And vanished from her sight!
Wild howlings echoed through the air,
And from the graves beneath;
While Leonora's throbbing heart
Trembled 'twixt life and death.
Now round her, in the pallid light,
The wheeling spectres fly,
And, as they vanish from her sight,
In hollow murmurs cry:
" Repent; nor doubt the Father's love;
Submit to Heaven's control:
We yield thy body to the earth:
May God receive thy soul. "
From heavy dreams, sad Leonore
Rose with the dawning day:
Her heart oppressed by boding fears
At Wilhelm's long delay.
With Frederic's force her soldier went
To meet his country's foe;
And since, no tidings had he sent
To tell of weal or woe.
The king and the proud empress-queen,
Weary of endless war,
At length renounce their fruitless strife
And welcome peace once more.
The weary, toil-worn warriors come,
Rejoicing on their way;
With blare of trump and beat of drum,
In oaken garlands gay.
And every way-side, every path,
Is thronged with eager feet,
Of friends and kindred, hurrying forth
The coming host to meet.
The lover greets his plighted bride;
But ah! for poor Leonore, —
No greeting to her pallid lips
Shall bring the roses more.
She wandered up and down the road,
To frantic fears a prey
And vainly questioned all that came,
Throughout that weary day;
The army now had all passed by!
She tore her raven hair,
She threw herself upon the earth,
In desolate despair.
The mother folds her to her heart,
And seeks with counsels vain
Some word of comfort to impart
To soothe her darling's pain.
" Oh mother, what is lost is lost!
Now Earth and Heaven may go.
There is no pitying God in Heaven —
No love for aught below. "
" Peace, peace! who know the Father's love,
Knows he can aid impart; —
The blessed sacrament shall soothe
Thy pierced and bleeding heart. "
" No balm upon this burning heart
The sacrament can pour! —
No sacrament to love and life
The cold, cold dead restore.
" Oh mother, would my lamp of life
Would sink in endless night!
How shall I loathe the midnight gloom
And loathe the morning light!
And what, to me, is Heaven's bliss.
And what, to me, is Hell;
With him, with him is happiness,
And oh, without him, Hell! "
" Perchance, dear child, he loves no more,
And wandering far and wide,
Hath sought, upon a foreign shore,
To wed a foreign bride. "
" Oh mother, what is lost is lost!
There is no pitying love —
No joy in life, no balm in death —
No hope in Heaven above.
" Go out, life's light, — forever out;
Die, die, in night and dread!
There is no pitying God in Heaven;
Would, would that I were dead! "
Thus raged the frenzy of despair
Within her burning brain —
Thus with God's righteous providence
She strove in anguish vain.
She beat her breast and tore her hair
Till the long day was done, —
Till in the West the silent stars
Came twinkling one by one.
She sat within her lonely room,
Nor marked the dying day,
Till the moon's light, o'er tower and height,
In silver glory lay.
When lo! she hears a courser's hoofs
Ring on the frozen ground:
A knight alights before the gate —
His clanging arms resound.
And hark! a low and soft " kling ling "
Sounds through the silent room!
And hark! a well known voice she hears
Beside her in the gloom!
" What ho! Leonore: unbar the door; —
Art watching or asleep? —
Doth my fair bride forget her vows,
Or fear her vows to keep? "
" Ah Wilhelm, thou! so late at night?
Oh, I have watched and wept;
What from thy Leonora's side
So long her love hath kept! "
" From far Hungarian fields I come
On my lone midnight ride,
To bear thee to thy distant home;
Away, away my bride! "
" The wind blows through the hawthorn bush;
In whistles loud and shrill;
Come in, and warm thee in my arms;
Ah! why so cold and still? "
" Let the wind through the hawthorn blow,
Or howl across the mere;
The black horse paws, and clank the spurs,
I dare not linger here.
Come, don thy snow-white robes with speed,
And swiftly mount behind;
We ride a hundred leagues ere day,
Our bridal bed to find! "
" And must we ride a hundred leagues
To reach our bridal bower?
Hark! even now, the booming bell
Tolls out the midnight hour. "
" Ha! dost thou fear? — the moon shines clear;
Soon will our course be sped!
I bear thee to our bridal home
And to our bridal bed. "
" Ah! tell me where the bridal hall,
And where the couch is spread? "
" Far, far from here; cold, narrow, drear,
Lies our low marriage bed! "
" Hast room for me? " " For thee and me;
Come, busk thee, darling bride;
The wedding guests are waiting,
The door stands open wide. "
The maiden donned her bridal robes;
On the black steed she sprung,
And round the knight her snowy arms
In trembling silence flung.
And on they gallop, fast and far,
Nor mount nor stream their course can bar;
While horse and rider pant and blow;
The fire-sparks flashing as they go.
The crags shoot by, — the castles fly, —
The rattling hoofs resound;
The bridges thunder 'neath their tread,
And rings the hollow ground.
" Ha! doth my Leonora fear
With her true love to ride?
The midnight moon shines cold and clear —
The dead ride swift, my bride! "
Hark! wailings float upon the air,
And hollow dirges ring!
Why tolls the bell that solemn knell,
Why flaps the raven's wing?
Lo, sweeping o'er the lonely moor,
A dark funereal train!
They chant a requiem o'er the bier, —
A hoarse, sepulchral strain.
" Bury your dead when midnight's past,
With wild lament and prayer;
To-night I wed a fearless bride,
Our banquet ye shall share.
Come, priest and choir, and mourners all,
Come, crone the marriage song;
Come, priest, and bless the bridal bed,
And join the merry throng. "
Now fades into the dusky air
The coffin and the pall;
They sweep along, a ghostly throng,
The mourners, priest, and all;
And faster, faster, still they speed,
O'er wild morass and moonlight mead,
While horse and rider pant and blow,
The fire sparks flashing as they go!
How swiftly, on the right and left,
The mountains hurry by;
How swiftly, on the right and left,
Town, tower, and forest fly!
" Doth my love fear? the moon shines clear;
Ah ha! dost fear the dead?
The dead ride swift, — hurrah! hurrah! "
" Ah, speak not of the dead! "
Now, where the moonbeams faintly fall,
Yon frantic rabble see;
How fearfully they wheel and spin,
Beneath the gallows-tree!
" Halloo, halloo! ye grisly crew,
Come here, and follow me;
Around us prance a fetter-dance,
And quit the gallows-tree. "
And now, across the moonlit waste,
They hurry on behind;
A sound like dry and withered leaves,
Low rustling in the wind.
And onward, onward still they speed,
Nor rock nor stock their course impede;
While horse and rider pant and blow,
The fire-sparks flashing as they go!
Fast flies the quiet moonlight scene,
Fast, fast and far, it flies;
Fast fly the fleecy clouds above,
And fast the starry skies.
" Ah! dost thou fear? — the moon shines clear;
And fast the dead can ride. "
" Oh, name the dead no more! " " Ah, ha!
Dost fear the dead, my bride?
" Methinks I smell the morning air,
And hark! the cock doth crow!
Then onward speed, my trusty steed!
Haste, haste! our sands run low.
Our race is run, our course is done,
And we are at the goal;
Swift ride the dead, — hurrah, hurrah!
Come, priest, bind soul to soul! "
Up to a gloomy portal now,
With slackened rein they ride;
When lo! the massive bar and bolt
Back from their staples glide.
And as the dark and sounding door
Upon its hinges turns,
She sees, in the moon's glimmering light,
Gray tombs and moldering urns.
Suddenly, from the rider's form,
By some unearthly spell,
The welded armor, piece by piece,
In shivered fragments fell.
She sees a hideous skeleton,
A ghastly Horror, stand
Before her glazing eyes revealed, —
An hour-glass in his hand.
High reared the fiery, frantic steed,
And trembled with affright;
Then sank into the yawning earth,
And vanished from her sight!
Wild howlings echoed through the air,
And from the graves beneath;
While Leonora's throbbing heart
Trembled 'twixt life and death.
Now round her, in the pallid light,
The wheeling spectres fly,
And, as they vanish from her sight,
In hollow murmurs cry:
" Repent; nor doubt the Father's love;
Submit to Heaven's control:
We yield thy body to the earth:
May God receive thy soul. "
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