Rememberest thou my Maiden-
That face canst thou forget?
She loved me then, the Maiden!
And the Maiden loves me yet!
For the Maiden, many a blossom
I begged-and not in vain!
I came again, a-begging,
And thou--thou giv'st again!
Welcome, gentle Stripling,
Nature's darling thou!
With thy basket full of blossoms,
A happy welcome now!
OI dream? can I trust to my eye?
My sight sure some vapor must cover? Or, there, did my Minna pass by
My Minna-and knew not her lover? On the arm of the coxcomb she crossed, Well the fan might its zephyr bestow; Herself in her vanity lost,
That wanton my Minna ?-Ah, no!
In the gifts of my love she was dressed, My plumes o'er her summer hat quiver;
The ribbons that flaunt in her breast
Might bid her-remember the giver !
And still do they bloom on thy bosom,
The flow'rets I gathered for thee!
Still as fresh is the leaf of each blossom,
'Tis the Heart that has faded from me!
Go and take, then, the incense they tender;
Go, the one that adored thee forget!
Go, thy charms to the Feigner surrender,
In my scorn is my comforter yet!
Go, for thee with what trust and belief
There beat not ignobly a heart,
That has strength yet to strive with the grief
To have worshipped the trifler thou art!
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed—
Thy beauty-shame, Minna, to thee!
To-morrow its glory will fade,
And its roses all withered will be !
The swallows that swarm in the sun
Will fly when the north winds awaken,
The false ones thine Autumn will shun,
For whom thou the true hast forsaken!
'Mid the wrecks of thy charms in December, I see thee alone in decay,
And each Spring shall but bid thee remember
How brief for thyself was the May '
Then they who so wantonly flock
To the rapture thy kiss can impart,
Shall scoff at thy winter, and mock
Thy beauty as wrecked as thy heart!
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed-
Thy beauty-shame, Minna, to thee!
To-morrow its glory will fade,
And its roses all withered will be !
Oh, what scorn for thy desolate years
Shall I feel!-God forbid it in me!
How bitter will then be the tears
Shed, Minna, O Minna, for thee!
LESSED through love are the Gods;—through love
Their bliss to ourselves is given;
Heavenlier through love is the heaven above,
And love makes the earth a heaven.
At Pyrrha's rear (as sung
The Muse, in ages gone),
From rocks Creation sprung,
And Men leaped up from stone;
Rock and stone, in night
The souls of men were sealed,
Heaven's diviner light
Not as yet revealed;
As yet the Loves around them
Had never shone--nor bound them
With their rosy rings;
As yet their bosoms knew not
Soft song-and music grew not
Out of the silver strings:
No gladsome garlands cheerily
Were love-y-woven then;
Back to Elysium drearily
Fled Spring itself from men ;'
The morning rose ungreeted
From Ocean's joyless breast;
Unhailed the evening fleeted
To Ocean's joyless breast-
Wild through the tangled shade,
By clouded moons they strayed,
The iron race of Men!
No sweet mysterious tears,
That yearned for starry spheres,
And sought a God-were then.
Lo, mildly from the dark-blue water
Comes forth the Heaven's divinest Daughter,
Borne by the Nymphs, fair-floating o'er
To the intoxicated shore!
Like May-like light-diffusing Morn,
A power of light and bloom was given, Inwoven, when that birth was born,
Through air and ocean, earth and heaven.
Blithe Day looked down on forests dim,
And laughed to light their midnight grim;
And where the new-born Venus trod,
She left the flow'ret on the sod.
Now, pours the bird that haunts the eve
The earliest song of love,
And now the waters gently heave,
And softly murmur love.
O blest Pygmalion-blest art thou—
It melts, it glows, thy marble now!
O Love, the God, thy world is won!
Embrace thy children, Mighty One.
Blessed through love are the Gods;-through love
Their bliss to ourselves is given;
Heavenlier through love is the heaven above,
And love makes the earth a heaven.
Where the nectar bright streams,
Like the Dawn's happy dreams,
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