The Alpine Hunter
Wilt thou not the lambkins guard? Oh, how soft and meek they look, Feeding on the grassy sward, Sporting round the silvery brook! “Mother, mother, let me go On yon heights to chase the
Hymn To Joy
Joy, thou goddess, fair, immortal, Offspring of Elysium, Mad with rapture, to the portal Of thy holy fame we come! Fashion’s laws, indeed, may sever, But thy magic joins again; All mankind are brethren
The Invincible Armada
She comes, she comes the burden of the deeps! Beneath her wails the universal sea! With clanking chains and a new god, she sweeps, And with a thousand thunders, unto thee! The ocean-castles and
The Greatness Of The World
Through the world which the Spirit creative and kind First formed out of chaos, I fly like the wind, Until on the strand Of its billows I land, My anchor cast forth where the
Germany And Her Princes
Thou hast produced mighty monarchs, of whom thou art not unworthy, For the obedient alone make him who governs them great. But, O Germany, try if thou for thy rulers canst make it Harder
The Youth By The Brook
Beside the brook the boy reclined And wove his flowery wreath, And to the waves the wreath consigned The waves that danced beneath. “So fleet mine hours,” he sighed, “away Like waves that restless
The German Art
By no kind Augustus reared, To no Medici endeared, German art arose; Fostering glory smiled not on her, Ne’er with kingly smiles to sun her, Did her blooms unclose. No, she went by monarchs
Naenia
Even the beauteous must die! This vanquishes men and immortals; But of the Stygian god moves not the bosom of steel. Once and once only could love prevail on the ruler of shadows, And
The Bards Of Olden Time
Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled, Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind up to heaven, And
The Virtue Of Woman
Man of virtue has need;-into life with boldness he plunges, Entering with fortune more sure into the hazardous strife; But to woman one virtue suffices; it is ever shining Lovingly forth to the heart;
Rousseau
Monument of our own age’s shame, On thy country casting endless blame, Rousseau’s grave, how dear thou art to me Calm repose be to thy ashes blest! In thy life thou vainly sought’st for
The Eleusinian Festival
Wreathe in a garland the corn’s golden ear! With it, the Cyane [31] blue intertwine Rapture must render each glance bright and clear, For the great queen is approaching her shrine, She who compels
The Ring Of Polycrates – A Ballad
Upon his battlements he stood, And downward gazed in joyous mood, On Samos’ Isle, that owned his sway, “All this is subject to my yoke;” To Egypt’s monarch thus he spoke, “That I am
The Maiden's Lament
The clouds fast gather, The forest-oaks roar A maiden is sitting Beside the green shore, The billows are breaking with might, with might, And she sighs aloud in the darkling night, Her eyelid heavy
My Antipathy
I have a heartfelt aversion for crime, a twofold aversion, Since ’tis the reason why man prates about virtue so much. “What! thou hatest, then, virtue?” I would that by all it were practised,