Heart, ’tis fatal thus to harken,
  Let not fear thy courage darken,
  Though the past be all regretting
  And the future helpless fretting.

  Onward, let what’s mortal die. 
  Is the storm near, beat thou high. 
  Who came safe o’er Galilee
  Makes the voyage now in thee.

* * * * *

EDUARD MOeRIKE

  AN ERROR CHANCED[22] (1824)

  An error chanced in the moonlight garden
  Of a once inviolate love. 
  Shuddering I came on an outworn deceit,
  And with sorrowing look, yet cruel,
  Bade I the slender
  Enchanting maiden
  Leave me and wander far. 
  Alas! her lofty forehead
  Was bowed, for she loved me well;
  Yet did she go in silence
  Into the dim gray
  World outside.

  Sick since then,
  Wounded and woeful heart! 
  Never shall it be whole.

  Meseems that, spun of the air, a thread of magic
  Binds her yet to me, an unrestful bond;
  It draws, it draws me faint with love toward her. 
  Might it yet be some day that on my threshold
  I should find her, as erst, in the morning twilight,
  Her traveler’s bundle beside her,
  And her eye true-heartedly looking up to me,
  Saying, “See, I’ve come back,
  Back once more from the lonely world!”

* * * * *

A SONG FOR TWO IN THE NIGHT[23] (1825)

She.  How soft the night wind strokes the meadow grasses
And, breathing music, through the woodland passes! 
Now that the upstart day is dumb,
One hears from the still earth a whispering throng
Of forces animate, with murmured song
Joining the zephyrs’ well-attuned hum.

He.  I catch the tone from wondrous voices brimming,
Which sensuous on the warm wind drifts to me,
While, streaked with misty light uncertainly,
The very heavens in the glow are swimming.

She.  The air like woven fabric seems to wave,
Then more transparent and more lustrous groweth;
Meantime a muted melody outgoeth
From happy fairies in their purple cave. 
To sphere-wrought harmony
Sing they, and busily
The thread upon their silver spindles floweth.

He.  Oh lovely night! how effortless and free
O’er samite black-though green by day—­thou movest! 
And to the whirring music that thou lovest
Thy foot advances imperceptibly. 
Thus hour by hour thy step doth measure—­
In tranced self-forgetful pleasure
Thou’rt rapt; creation’s soul is rapt with thee!

* * * * *

[Illustration:  EDUARD MOeRIKE WEISS]

EARLY AWAY[24] (1828)

The morning frost shines gray
Along the misty field
Beneath the pallid way
Of early dawn revealed.

  Amid the glow one sees
    The day-star disappear;
  Yet o’er the western trees
    The moon is shining clear.