Der Gebannte.

AN exile on a foreign strand
I wear my heart away:

the thought of my dear fatherland
is with me night and day.

in vain o'er hill and dale and lea
in search of bliss I roam :

my faithful heart still points to thee,
my dear, my long-lost home :
o native strand,

o fatherland!

friends of my soul, in nightly dreams
your well-known faces rise;
but, long ere rosy morning gleams,
the treacherous vision flies.
through all the tedious hours of light
no calm repose is mine,

and dreary is the sleepless night,
while far from thee I pine,
o native strand,

o fatherland!

Was mir wohl übrig bleibe. (SPOHR.)

WHEN fortune has bereft me

of all I cherished long, what portion still is left me?

the sisters, Love and Song. Love leans on Hope, and borrows her bright undying ray;

Song soothes my deepest sorrows,

and drives despair away.

From HOFFMAN VON FALLERSLEBEN.

An den Mond. (WEBER.)

HOLY light, softly bright,
lead the footsteps of my lover
to the still and lonely cover,
where his fond and faithful maid
waits him in the trysted shade.

here with faith strong as death

heart for heart we'll give and borrow, far from envy, far from sorrow: dwellers they with pomp and state in the mansions of the great.

love who may laughing day:

thou, sweet moon, a light revealing full of pure and tender feeling, sheddest o'er the silent grove peace and innocence and love.

Barcarole. (KÜCKEN.)

WAFT me, bark, with easy motion o'er the softly-swelling stream; slumber calmly, gentle ocean,

'neath the starlight's golden gleam.

warble sweetly, gondoliers;

for my true-love wakes and hears.

Leila, rising from her pillow,

eager hastens to the strand; fondly gazing o'er the billow,

lo, she waves her snowy hand. warble ever, gondoliers;

for my true-love stands and hears.

Tyrolerlied.

I COME from the cottage that stands in the grove, to woo thee, to sue thee, to wed thee, my love. ei ei ja, ei ei ja, ei ei ja, ei ja!

she's smiling, she's smiling, the little coquette, as if she perceived not my heart's in her net. · ei ei ja, ei ei ja, ei ei ja, ei ja!

give me back what you've stolen, my heart give to

me;

nay keep it, nay keep it, 'tis safer with thee.

ei ei ja, ei ei ja, ei ei ja, ei ja!

yes keep it, yes keep it, I spake but in jest: I should lose it again, were it still in my breast. ei ei ja, ei ei ja, ei ei jä, ei ja.

Bist du das Land? (HÜMMEL.)

ART thou the strand I loved in early days, the golden sand that saw my boyish plays, home of my heart when oceans rolled between, and still remembered, though so long unseen? art thou the strand? art thou the strand? o joy! thou art my own dear fatherland.

Love. (CARAFA.)

OH, faithful Love is a sprite of gladness;
he putteth sorrow and pain to flight;
no envy cloudeth his brow with sadness,
no malice quelleth his joyous might.

Holzmeyer.

DEAR lady, come hither and feel my heart; dost mark how it struggles with throb and start? a carpenter there in his lonely cell

to build me a coffin is working well.

he saws and he hammers by night and day, and long hath he driven sweet sleep away. work, master carpenter, work amain,

that I may sweetly sleep again.

From H. HEINE.

Freiheit.

GIVE me freedom, I beseech thee;
rend the fetters of the slave;
let the voice of pity reach thee;
pity most becomes the brave.

o my conqueror, o my brother,
if thou heed'st not pity's call,
reverence earth our common mother,
God, the father of us all.

From TIECK.

Der Blinde.

THOUGH mine eyes are dim and sightless,

and thine orb I may not see,

yet, o sun, I am not lightless,
warmth and radiance visit me.
He who first thy beams created,
and from darkness called forth light,

on his throne of glory seated

lifts the curtain from my sight.

From KOTZEBUE.

La Rosière. (OTTO.)

WHO trips beneath the twilight sky?
my daughter young and fair:
she waves her flowery basket high,
while roses scent the air.

the morrow is our village feast,
and (o the joyous day!)

with rosebud on her bonnie breast

she'll walk the queen of May.

From WIELAND.

Einsam? (WEBER.)

LONELY, lonely? no that am I not: for the kind and tender-hearted, whom I loved in years departed, haunt me with their love.

happy, happy? no, that am I not: tears into my eyes are thronging, and my inmost heart is longing for a far-off home.

dreary, dreary? no, that am I not:
for I feel that those who love me
from their hearts will ne'er remove me
till we meet above.

hopeful, hopeful? yes, I live in hope:
all, in whom I once delighted,
yet I trust to find united

in the joy to come.