So, when to life’s unguarded fort, I see
Thy gaze draw near and near triumphantly—­
Yieldeth my soul to thee! 
Therefore my soul doth from its lord depart,
Because, beloved, its native home thou art;
Because the twins recall the links they bore,
And soul with soul, in the sweet kiss of yore,
Meets and unites once more. 
Thou too—­Ah, there thy gaze upon me dwells,
And thy young blush the tender answer tells;
Yes! with the dear relation still we thrill,
Both lives—­tho’ exiles from the homeward hill—­
One life—­all glowing still!

* * * * *

TO LAURA.

(Rapture.)

  Laura—­above this world methinks I fly,
  And feel the glow of some May-lighted sky,
      When thy looks beam on mine! 
  And my soul drinks a more ethereal air,
  When mine own shape I see reflected there,
      In those blue eyes of thine! 
  A lyre-sound from the Paradise afar,
  A harp-note trembling from some gracious star,
      Seems the wild ear to fill;
  And my muse feels the Golden Shepherd-hours,
  When from thy lips the silver music pours
      Slow, as against its will. 
  I see the young Loves flutter on the wing—­
  Move the charm’d trees, as when the Thracian’s string
      Wild life to forests gave;
  Swifter the globe’s swift circle seems to fly,
  When in the whirling dance thou glidest by,
      Light as a happy wave. 
  Thy looks, when there love sheds the loving smile,
  Could from the senseless marble life beguile—­
      Lend rocks a pulse divine;
  Into a dream my very being dies,
  I can but read—­for ever read—­thine eyes—­
      Laura, sweet Laura, mine![13]

[Footnote 13:  We confess we cannot admire the sagacity of those who have contended that Schiller’s passion for Laura was purely Platonic.]

* * * * *

TO LAURA PLAYING.

  When o’er the chords thy fingers steal,
  A soulless statue now I feel,
      And now a soul set free! 
  Sweet Sovereign! ruling over death and life—­
  Seizes the heart, in a voluptuous strife
      As with a thousand strings—­the SORCERY![14]

[Footnote 14:  “The Sorcery.”—­In the original, Schiller has an allusion of very questionable taste, and one which is very obscure to the general reader, to a conjurer of the name of Philadelphia who exhibited before Frederick the Great.]

  Then the vassal airs that woo thee,
  Hush their low breath hearkening to thee. 
  In delight and in devotion,
  Pausing from her whirling motion,
  Nature, in enchanted calm,
  Silently drinks the floating balm. 
  Sorceress, her heart with thy tone
  Chaining—­as thine eyes my own!