Ten songs

Gekommen ist der [Maye]1,
Die Blumen und Bäume blühn,
Und durch [die Himmelsbläue]2
Die [rosigen]3 Wolken ziehn.

Die [Nachtigallen]4 singen
Herab aus [der laubigen]5 Höh,
Die weißen Lämmer springen
Im weichen grünen Klee.

[Ich kann nicht singen und springen]6,
Ich liege krank im Gras;
Ich höre fernes Klingen,
Mir träumt, ich weiß nicht was.

Songs and flowers are returning,
And radiant skies of May,
Earth her choicest gifts is yielding,
But one is past away.

The spring that clothes with tend'rest green
Each grove and sunny plain,
Shines not for my forsaken heart,
Brings not my joys again.

Warble not so, thou nightingale,
Upon thy blooming spray,
Thy sweetness now will burst my heart,
I cannot bear thy lay.

For flowers and birds are come again,
And breezes mild of May,
But treasured hopes and golden hours
Are lost to me for aye!

Leise [zieht]1 durch mein Gemüth
Liebliches Geläute.
Klinge, kleines Frühlingslied,
Kling' hinaus in's Weite.

[Kling']2 hinaus bis an das Haus,
Wo die [Blumen]3 sprießen.
Wenn du eine Rose schaust,
Sag' ich lass' sie grüßen.

Sleep, dearest, sleep ! 
The silver moon is shining 
Over the throbbing sea, 
The beating, passionate sea, 
Her virgin brow inclining, 
As I incline o'er thee ! 
Sleep ! sleep ! 

Sleep, dearest, sleep ! 
The world at peace is lying 
Only the night-winds free, 
The passionate night-winds free, 
Around thy door are sighing, 
As I sigh for thee ! 
Sleep ! sleep ! 

Go forth my sigh
 . . . . . . . . . .

— The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. —

  Elle était du monde, ou les plus belles choses
     Ont le pire destin:
  Et Rose, elle a dure, ce que durent les roses,
     L'espace d'un matin.

Earth ! guard what here we lay in [holy]1 trust ; 
  That which hath left our home a darkened place, 
Wanting the form, the smile, now veiled with dust, 
  The light departed with our loveliest face! 
Yet from thy bonds, [undying hope springs]2 free -- 
We have but lent our beautiful to thee ! 

But thou, O Heaven ! keep, keep what Thou hast taken, 
  And with our treasure keep our hearts on high ! 
The spirit [meek]3, and yet by pain unshaken, 
  The faith, the love, the lofty constancy.' 
Guide us where these are with our sister flown,  --
They were of Thee, and thou hast claimed thine own ! 

  Blow, breeze of spring! 
  Blow soft and ring
The snowdrop bells, that they may bring
From their beds the flowerets fair!
Ringing soft -- prepare! prepare! 
  'Tis time to rise,
  With smiling eyes,
The bridegroom sun is in the skies! 

  Blow, breeze of spring! 
  Blow soft and ring
The snowdrop bells that they may bring 
Flowers on her bride-path to fling,
Flowers to her who is my spring,
  To bid her rise,
  With smiling eyes,
Her [bridal]1 sun is in the skies!

Tell me maiden -- maiden dear!
  Tell me what is love?
In thy brown eyes shining clear:
On thy lips, O maiden dear,
  Can I see it move?

It is two hearts, two hearts true,
  Two hearts with one beat:
Two souls shining, sighing through
Lips and eyes of morning dew,
With one wish between the two,
  And that wish to meet.

Roses, ah, how fair ye be ! 
Ye are fading, dying ! 
Ye should with my lady be, 
On her bosom lying ; 

All your bloom is lost on me, 
Here despairing, sighing. 
Oh, the golden dreams I nursed, 
Ere I knew thy scorning, 

When I pour'd my passion first, 
And at break of morning, 
Pluck'd the rosebuds, ere they burst, 
For thy breast's adorning ! 

Every fruit and floweret rare, 
To thy feet I bore it, 
Fondly knelt, to see thee there, 
Bending fondly o'er it,

Poco lora e'omai lontana
 . . . . . . . . . .

— The rest of this text is not
currently in the database but will be
added as soon as we obtain it. —