THE MEETING.

THIS poem, and the two that immediately follow, appear to have been inspired by Charlotte von Lengefeld, whom Schiller afterwards married. "The Meeting" is the only one of Schiller's poems that reminds us of the Italian poets. It has in it something of the sweet mannerism of Petrarch.

I SEE her still, with many a fair one nigh,
Of every fair the stateliest shape appear:
She seemed a sun to my delighted eye—

I stood afar, and durst not venture near.
Seized, as the splendour spread before me, by
The trembling passion of voluptuous fear,
Yet swift, as borne upon some hurrying wing,
The impulse snatched me, and I swept the string.

What then I felt-what sung-my memory hence
From that wild moment would in vain invoke ;
It was the life of some discovered sense

That in the heart's divine emotion spoke ;
Long years imprisoned, and escaping thence
From every chain, the SOUL enchanted broke,
And found a music in its own deep core,
Unguessed and godlike, that had slept before.

Not till the music long had died in space,
Back unto me the soul transported came;

B

And then I looked upon that angel face,

And saw dear love contend with charming shame ; I heard—and heaven descended on the place!—

A voice low-murmuring bliss divine proclaim : Only again in yonder choral skies

Can sounds so sweet my soul emparadise.

"I know the worth within the heart which sighs, Yet shuns, the modest sorrow to declare; And what rude fortune niggardly denies,

Unto the noble shall my love repair.

Still to the poor reserved the wealthiest prize;
To cull love's flower is but for love to dare;
The wealthiest treasure to his lot shall fall
Whose heart, receiving, still returneth, all."

THE EXPECTATION.

(DIE ERWARTUNG.)

NOTE.-In Schiller, the eight long lines that conclude each stanza of this charming love-poem, instead of rhyming alternately, as in the translation, chime somewhat to the tune of Byron's Don Juan-six lines rhyming with each other, and the two last forming a separate couplet. I have also made a slight change in the rhythm of the shorter verses in each stanza.

I.

"HEAR I the creaking gate unclose?

The gleaming latch uplifted?

No 'twas the wind that, whirring, rose,

Amidst the poplars drifted!

"Adorn thyself, thou green leaf-bowering roof,
Take from her gracious looks the only light;
With shadowy boughs, whose secrets are star-proof,
Build the still hall and weave the friendly night!
And ye, sweet flatteries of the delicate air,

Awake, and sport her rosy cheek around,

When their light weight the tender feet shall bear,— When Beauty comes to Passion's trysting-ground.

II.

“Hush! what amidst the copses crept

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So swiftly by me now?

No-'twas the startled bird that swept

The light leaves of the bough!

Day, quench thy torch! Forth, forth, O Night! All hail
Thee and thine own loved Silence! Favouring hour
Spiritual, round us spread thy purple veil,

And shroud yet more the secret-guarding bower.
Love's paradise vouchsafes no listener's ear,
It flies the light-admits no eye to see;
Hesper alone, the Silent One, may hear!
Hesper, down-glancing, the sole witness be!

III.

“What murmur in the distance spoke,

And like a whisper died?

No!-'twas the swan that gently broke
In rings the silver tide!

"Soft to my ear there comes a music-flow;

With grateful murmur purls the waterfall; To Zephyr's kiss the flowers are bending low; All where I look exchange delight with all. The rich grapes beckon; from the glossy lair Of covert leaves the ripe peach swelling breaks. Steep'd in the fragrance of the evening air, Cool breezes drink the fever from my cheek.

IV.

"Hark! through the laurels hear I now
A footfall? Comes the maiden?
No,'twas the fruit slid from the bough,
With its own richness laden!

'Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death,
And his rich colours wane in slow degrees;
The flowers that shrunk before his glowing breath,
Bold in the twilight ope their chalices.

The bright face of the moon is still and lone,
Melts in vast masses the world silently;
Slides from each charm the slowly-loosening zone;
And round all beauty, veilless, roves the eye.

V.

"What yonder seems to glimmer?

Her white robe's glancing hues?— No,-'twas the column's shimmer

Athwart the darksome yews!

"O, longing heart, no more, delight-upbuoy'd Let the sweet airy image thee befool!

The arms that would embrace her clasp the void : This feverish breast no phantom-bliss can cool. O, waft her here, the true, the living one!

Let but my hand her hand, the tender, feelThe very shadow of her robe alone !

See, where the vision into life doth steal!

*

And light, as comes, when least we ween,
From heaven the hour of bliss,
All gently came the maid, unseen;
He waked beneath her kiss!

THE SECRET.

AND not a word by her was spoken ;
For many a listener's ear was by,
But sweetly was the silence broken,
For eye could well interpret eye.
Soft to thy green pavilion stealing,
Fair Beech, thy stilly shades I gain;
Oh, veil with boughs that droop concealing,
Two lovers from the world profane!