by Heinrich Heinetranslated by F. Storr

“ Go again to Goslar, where
People flock to see the shooting:
'Tis as merry as a fair.
And up here it's lonely, lonely,
On the mountain bleak and drear;
For the snow lies deep in winter;
We are buried half the year. ”

“ He bath burst th' oppressor's stronghold,
He bath broke the prisoner's chain.
"Old-world wounds the Spirit healeth
And renews the ancient right;
All mankind by birth are equal,
All are noble in his sight. ”

“ Large as suns the stars in heaven
Downward beam with gaze intense,
And the lily's broad cup gathers
All their tender influence.
Meanwhile we ourselves, my darling,
Feel a rarer, subtler change;
Gold and silk around us shimmer,
Gleaming torches round us range. ”