TRANSLATIONS OF BÜRGER'S LENORE
91
"Crows the cock—dark courser hear—
Soon the sand will now be run.
Now I scent the morning air,[1]
Sable steed, thy toil is done;—
Now our labour is complete;
Swift's the passage of the dead;
We have reach'd our destin'd seat,
Open now the nuptial bed."
Soon the sand will now be run.
Now I scent the morning air,[1]
Sable steed, thy toil is done;—
Now our labour is complete;
Swift's the passage of the dead;
We have reach'd our destin'd seat,
Open now the nuptial bed."
Gainst an iron-grated door
Fierce with loosen'd rein he drives;
The ponderous bars resist no more,
Even a touch their hinges rives.
Over tombs with clattering sound
Now they urge their destin'd way;
Scatter'd grave-stones gleam around
In the wan moon's glimmering ray.
Fierce with loosen'd rein he drives;
The ponderous bars resist no more,
Even a touch their hinges rives.
Over tombs with clattering sound
Now they urge their destin'd way;
Scatter'd grave-stones gleam around
In the wan moon's glimmering ray.
Turn, O instant turn the eye,
See a ghastly wonder shown!—
The horseman's flesh, like tinder dry,
Drops piecemeal from each naked bone.
From the skull now falls the hair,
Drear the death-like Phantom stands,
A skeleton expos'd and bare,
Scythe and hour-glass in his hands.
See a ghastly wonder shown!—
The horseman's flesh, like tinder dry,
Drops piecemeal from each naked bone.
From the skull now falls the hair,
Drear the death-like Phantom stands,
A skeleton expos'd and bare,
Scythe and hour-glass in his hands.
See the black steed wildly rear—
Sparkling streams of horrid light
From his snorting nostrils glare,
Down he sinks to endless night.—
On the breeze loud shrieks are borne,
Groan the graves with boding breath;
Lenore's heart by tortures torn,
Vibrates now 'tween life and death.
Sparkling streams of horrid light
From his snorting nostrils glare,
Down he sinks to endless night.—
On the breeze loud shrieks are borne,
Groan the graves with boding breath;
Lenore's heart by tortures torn,
Vibrates now 'tween life and death.
Hand in hand in fatal ring
By the pale moon's fading ray,
Demons round them dance, and sing,
Howling forth this dreadful lay.—
"Patient bear th' heart-rending blast,
Wage not impious war with Heaven,
Here on earth thy days are past.
Mercy to thy soul be given!"
By the pale moon's fading ray,
Demons round them dance, and sing,
Howling forth this dreadful lay.—
"Patient bear th' heart-rending blast,
Wage not impious war with Heaven,
Here on earth thy days are past.
Mercy to thy soul be given!"
- ↑ This, and the other imitation of Shakespeare in stanza the fifteenth, are literally translated from the original.—Note by Pye. The allusion in stanza fifteen is to the line, "Thro' the hawthorne etc., in comparison with Lear III, iv, 47: "Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold wind."
