Studies in German Literature

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G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1879 - German literature - 421 pages

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Page 292 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain. Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished ; They live no longer in the faith of reason!
Page 66 - With these thou seest— if indeed I go (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) — To the island-valley of Avilion ; Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow. Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard lawns And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, Where I will heal me of my grievous wound.
Page 380 - Yes! to this thought I hold with firm persistence; The last result of wisdom stamps it true : He only earns his freedom and existence Who daily conquers them anew. Thus here, by dangers girt, shall glide away Of childhood, manhood, age, the vigorous day: And such a throng I fain would see,— Stand on free soil among a people free ! Then dared I hail the Moment fleeing: "Ah, still delay — thou art so fair!
Page 155 - With force of arms we nothing can, Full soon were we down-ridden; But for us fights the proper Man, Whom God himself hath bidden. Ask ye, Who is this same ? Christ Jesus is his name, The Lord Zebaoth's Son, He and no other one Shall conquer in the battle.
Page 227 - Es eifre jeder seiner unbestochnen Von Vorurteilen freien Liebe nach! Es strebe von euch jeder um die Wette, Die Kraft des Steins in seinem Ring
Page 146 - As the weaver plied the shuttle wove he too the mystic rhyme, And the smith his iron measures hammered to the anvil's chime, Thanking God, whose boundless wisdom makes the flowers of poesy bloom In the forge's dust and cinders, in the tissues of the loom.
Page 278 - BE NOBLE ! and the nobleness that lies In other men, sleeping, but never dead, Will rise in majesty to meet thine own...
Page 380 - Ja! diesem Sinne bin ich ganz ergeben, Das ist der Weisheit letzter Schluß: Nur der verdient sich Freiheit wie das Leben, Der täglich sie erobern muß! Und so verbringt, umrungen von Gefahr, Hier Kindheit, Mann und Greis sein tüchtig Jahr. Solch ein Gewimmel möcht ich sehn!
Page 251 - Noch einmal sattelt mir den Hippogryphen, ihr Musen, Zum Ritt ins alte romantische Land! Wie lieblich um meinen entfesselten Busen Der holde Wahnsinn spielt! Wer schlang das magische Band Um meine Stirne? Wer treibt von meinen Augen den Nebel, Der auf der Vorwelt Wundern liegt? Ich seh, in buntem Gewühl, bald siegend, bald besiegt, Des Ritters gutes Schwert, der Heiden blinkende Säbel.
Page 354 - A sweet, uncomprehended yearning Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free, And while a thousand tears were burning, I felt a world arise for me. These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing, Proclaimed the Spring's rejoicing holiday; And Memory holds me now, with childish feeling, Back from the last, the solemn way. Sound on, ye hymns of Heaven, so sweet and mild! My tears gush forth : the Earth takes back her child!

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