Could all Europe now but see him, so engaging, so gallant,
  How the ladies, young and old, his winning smiles delight, enchant;
  How the church’s pious clergy, and the doughty men of war,
  And the state’s distinguished servants by his grace enraptured are.

  Man of state and man of counsel, since you’re in a mood so kind,
  Since you’re showing to all present such a gracious frame of mind,
  See, without, a needy client standing waiting at your door
  Whom the slightest sign of favor will make happy evermore.

  And you do not need to fear him; he’s intelligent and fair;
  Hidden ’neath his homely garments, knife nor dagger does he wear. 
  ’Tis the Austrian people, open, honest, courteous as can be. 
  See, they’re pleading:  “May we ask you for the freedom to be free?”

* * * * *

[Illustration:  NICOLAUS LENAU]

NIKOLAUS LENAU

  PRAYER[15] (1832)

  Eye of darkness, dim dominioned,
    Stay, enchant me with thy might,
  Earnest, gentle, dreamy-pinioned,
    Sweet, unfathomable night.

  With magician’s mantle cover
    All this day-world from my sight,
  That for aye thy form may hover
    O’er my being, lovely night.

* * * * *

  SEDGE SONGS[16] (1832)

  I

  In the west the sun departing
    Leaves the weary day asleep,
  And the willows trail their streamers
    In these waters still and deep.

  Flow, my bitter tears, flow ever;
    All I love I leave behind;
  Sadly whisper here the willows,
    And the reed shakes in the wind.

  Into my deep lonely sufferings
    Tenderly you shine afar,
  As athwart these reeds and rushes
    Trembles soft yon evening star.

  II

  Oft at eve I love to saunter
    Where the sedge sighs drearily,
  By entangled hidden footpaths,
    Love! and then I think of thee.

  When the woods gloom dark and darker,
    Sedges in the night-wind moan,
  Then a faint mysterious wailing
    Bids me weep, still weep alone.

  And methinks I hear it wafted,
    Thy sweet voice, remote yet clear,
  Till thy song, descending slowly,
    Sinks into the silent mere.

  III

  Angry sunset sky,
    Thunder-clouds o’erhead,
  Every breeze doth fly,
    Sultry air and dead.

  From the lurid storm
    Pallid lightnings break,
  Their swift transient form
    Flashes through the lake.

  And I seem to see
    Thyself, wondrous nigh—­
  Streaming wild and free
    Thy long tresses fly.

* * * * *

  [Illustration:  EVENING ON THE SHORE HANS AM ENDE]

  SONGS BY THE LAKE[17] (1832)