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Two Songs.
| TWO SONGS.
[FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE.]
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I murmur not. When heart-break is my lot,
O love forever lost! I murmur not.
Though diamond-radiance clothes thy form in light,
There falls no ray upon thy heart's black night.
That knew I long. I saw thee in a dream,
And saw the darkness through thy bosom stream,
And saw the worm which feeds upon thy heart;
And saw, my love, how sorrowful thou art.
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Yes, thou art wretched, and I murmur not;—
My love, we shall be wretched, thou and I!
Till of each aching heart death breaks the knot,
My love, we shall be wretched, thou and I.
Upon thy mouth, scorn its light traces leaves,
I see thine eyes flash out defiantly,
I see the pride with which thy bosom heaves,—
Yet, wretched art thou, love, wretched as I.
Unseen the smart about thy month's unrest,
Concealed the tears which dim thy lucent eyne,
Secret the pain which wrings thy haughty breast,—
Perennial anguish, love, is mine and thine.
Spectator.
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