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Literary Gazette, 28th February, 1835, Pages 138-139
ORIGINAL POETRY.
VERSIONS FROM THE GERMAN.
(Fifth Series: continued.)
Count Egmont, a Tragedy,—Goethe.
Scene II.—(Mother, Clara, and afterwards Count Egmont.)
(The same small chamber; but the fire-light now
Flings its fantastic shadow on the wall:
A light less cheerful than the blessed sun,
And yet more social. Curtains closely drawn,
And fastened doors, shut out all else beside
The still small world of our own hope and heart.
The maiden's garb is simple; but 'tis worn
With a sweet anxiousness to please. Her hair—
How rich its golden tresses are—is knit
With curious care around her graceful head.
Her cheek is red; the rose betrays her heart;
Telling how fast it beats. One enters there—
A warrior by his step—and by his eye—
And yet the step is light—the eye is soft.
Still hath that eye a dark and inward power,
Which, like the shadow of some omen, sits
And clouds the present with vague prophesy.)
Mother.
So true a lover have I never known!
Young Brackenberg may well deserve a place
On those old chronicles of constancy
That are such favourites with you.
(Clara continues to pace the room, singing
snatches of an old song.)
It weeps, saddest weeping,
It hopes, and it fears;
Then smiles are keeping
A light mid its tears.
Now humble, now scornful,
Now gladness, now gloom;
Now bright as the morning;
Now dark as the tomb.
Now pining all lonely;
Then widely it roves;
Yet happy is only
The spirit that loves.
Mother.
Now, cease this foolish singing.
Clara.
Pray thee forbid me not, you do not know
The power that lurked in that simple song:
‘Twas sung beside my cradle, and recalls
Thoughts that I love to link with thoughts of love.
Frank, innocent, glad thoughts. He is a child,
And useth childish phrase; our common words,
The workaday and worldly, are too harsh,
