Hector and Andromache Amalia A Funeral Fantasie Fantasie—To Laura To Laura at the Harpsichord Group from Tartarus Rapture—To Laura To Laura (The Mystery of Reminiscence) Melancholy—To Laura The Infanticide The Greatness of the World Fortune and Wisdom Elegy on the Death of a Young Man The Battle Rousseau Friendship Elysium The Fugitive To Minna The Flowers The Triumph of Love (A Hymn) To a Moralist Count Eberhard, the Groaner of Wurtemburg To the Spring Semele
HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE. [This and the following poem are, with some alterations, introduced in the Play of "The Robbers."] ANDROMACHE. Will Hector leave me for the fatal plain, Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus slain, Stalks Peleus' ruthless son? Who, when thou glid'st amid the dark abodes, To hurl the spear and to revere the gods, Shall teach thine orphan one? HECTOR. Woman and wife beloved—cease thy tears; My soul is nerved—the war-clang in my ears! Be mine in life to stand Troy's bulwark!—fighting for our hearths, to go In death, exulting to the streams below, Slain for my fatherland! ANDROMACHE. No more I hear thy martial footsteps fall— Thine arms shall hang, dull trophies, on the wall— Fallen the stem of Troy! Thou goest where slow Cocytus wanders—where Love sinks in Lethe, and the sunless air Is dark to light and joy! HECTOR. Longing and thought—yes, all I feel and think May in the silent sloth of Lethe sink, But my love not! Hark, the wild swarm is at the walls!—I hear! Gird on my sword—Beloved one, dry the tear— Lethe for love is not!
AMALIA. Angel-fair, Walhalla's charms displaying, Fairer than all mortal youths was he; Mild his look, as May-day sunbeams straying Gently o'er the blue and glassy sea. And his kisses!—what ecstatic feeling! Like two flames that lovingly entwine, Like the harp's soft tones together stealing Into one sweet harmony divine,— Soul and soul embraced, commingled, blended, Lips and cheeks with trembling passion burned, Heaven and earth, in pristine chaos ended, Round the blissful lovers madly turn'd. He is gone—and, ah! with bitter anguish Vainly now I breathe my mournful sighs; He is gone—in hopeless grief I languish Earthly joys I ne'er again can prize!
A FUNERAL FANTASIE. Pale, at its ghastly noon, Pauses above the death-still wood—the moon; The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs; The clouds descend in rain; Mourning, the wan stars wane, Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres! Haggard a...BU KİTABI OKUMAK İÇİN ÜYE OLUN VEYA GİRİŞ YAPIN!
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