TEXT AND TRANSLATIONS
71
IV
Down courses in streams the sweat of emotion,
A dread trembling o’erwhelms me, paler am I
Than dried grass in autumn, and in my madness
Dead I seem almost.
Another translation is that of John Herman Merivale, 1833.
Blest as the immortal gods is he,
The youth whose eyes may look on thee,
Whose ears thy tongue’s sweet melody
May still devour.
Thou smilest too?—sweet smile whose charm
Has struck my soul with wild alarm,
And when I see thee bids disarm
Each vital power.
Speechless I gaze; the flame within
Runs swift o’er all my quivering skin,
My eyeballs swim; with dizzy din
My brain reels round
And cold drops fall; and tremblings frail
Seize every limb; and grassy pale
I grow; and then together fail
Both sight and sound.
