Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Nightingale's Death Song
THE NIGHTINGALE'S DEATH SONG.
Willst du nach den Nachtigallen fragen,
Die mit seelenvollen melodie
Dich entzückten in des Lenzes Tagen?
—Nur so lang sie liebten, waren sie.
Schiller.
Mournfully, sing mournfully,
And die away, my heart!
The rose, the glorious rose is gone,
And I, too, will depart.
The skies have lost their splendour,
The waters changed their tone,
And wherefore, in the faded world,
Should music linger on?
Where is the golden sunshine,
And where the flower-cup's glow?
And where the joy of the dancing leaves,
And the fountain's laughing flow?
A voice, in every whisper
Of the wave, the bough, the air,
Comes asking for the beautiful,
And moaning, "Where, oh! where?"
Tell of the brightness parted,
Thou bee, thou lamb at play!
Thou lark, in thy victorious mirth!
—Are ye, too, pass'd away?
Mournfully, sing mournfully!
The royal rose is gone.
Melt from the woods, my spirit, melt
In one deep farewell tone!
Not so!—swell forth triumphantly,
The full, rich, fervent strain!
Hence with young love and life I go,
In the summer's joyous train.
With sunshine, with sweet odour,
With every precious thing,
Upon the last warm southern breeze
My soul its flight shall wing.
Alone I shall not linger,
When the days of hope are past,
To watch the fall of leaf by leaf,
To wait the rushing blast
Triumphantly, triumphantly!
Sing to the woods, I go!
For me, perchance, in other lands,
The glorious rose may blow.
The sky's transparent azure,
And the greensward's violet breath,
And the dance of light leaves in the wind,
May there know nought of death.
No more, no more sing mournfully!
Swell high, then break, my heart
With love, the spirit of the woods,
With summer I depart!