ore took up his trumpet;
From his overburdened soul then
His farewell rang to the castle--
Rang out; don't you know the swan's song,
When with death's foreboding o'er him
Out into the lake he's swimming?
Through the rushes, through the snow-white
Water-lilies, rings his death-song:
"Lovely world, I now must leave thee;
Lovely world I die reluctant!"

Thus he blew there. Were those tears which
Glistened brightly on his trumpet,
Or some rain-drops which had fallen?
Onward now; the sharp spurs quickly
In the horse's flanks he presses,
And is flying at full gallop
Round the forest's farthest edge.

FOURTEENTH PART.

THE BOOK OF SONGS.

Werner went to distant countries,
Margaretta's heart was blighted;
Some few years will now pass over
Ere the two are reunited.

But, meanwhile, abrupt transitions
Are not to my taste, I own;
So with songs, like wreaths of flowers,
Shall this gap be overstrewn.

YOUNG WERNER'S SONGS.

I.

The moment when I saw thee first,
Struck dumb, I stood there dreaming,
My thoughts ran into harmonies,
Which through my heart were streaming.

So here I stand, poor trumpeter,
And on the sward am blowing;
In words I cannot tell my love,
In music it is flowing.

II.

The moment when I saw thee first,
The sixth of March, like lightning,
Came quickly from the azure sky
A flash, my heart igniting.

It burn'd up all that dwelt therein,
A dire destruction bringing,
But from the ruins, ivy-like,
My loved one's name was springing.

III.

Turn not thy timid glance away,
To hide what there doth glisten;
Come to the terrace, while I play,
And to my music listen.

In vain your efforts to escape,
I still continue blowing;
With magic speed my tunes take shape
Into a ladder growing.

On these sweet tones' melodious rounds
Love gently is ascending;
Through bolt and lock still pierce the sounds
Which I to thee am sending.

Turn not thy timid glance away,
To hide what there doth glisten;