Do old delusions haunt these marbles here,
    And urge them on to frantic disputations? 
  The terror-striking shout of Pan rings clear,
    While Moses hurls his stern denunciations.

  Alack! the wordy strife will have no end,
    Beauty and Truth will ever be at variance,
  A schism still the ranks of man will rend
    Into two camps, the Hellenes and Barbarians.

  Both parties thus reviled and cursed away,
    And none who heard could tell the why or whether,
  Till Balaam’s ass at last began to bray
    And soon outbawled both gods and saints together.

  With strident-sobbing hee-haw, hee-haw there—­
    His unremitting discords without number—­
  That beast so nearly brought me to despair
    That I cried out—­and wakened from my slumber.

* * * * *

THE JOURNEY TO THE HARZ[49] (1824)

BY HEINRICH HEINE

TRANSLATED BY CHARLES GODFREY LELAND

“Nothing is permanent but change, nothing constant but death.  Every pulsation of the heart inflicts a wound, and life would be an endless bleeding were it not for Poetry.  She secures to us what Nature would deny—­a golden age without rust, a spring which never fades, cloudless prosperity and eternal youth.”—­BOeRNE.

  Black dress coats and silken stockings,
    Snowy ruffles frilled with art,
  Gentle speeches and embraces—­
    Oh, if they but held a heart!

  Held a heart within their bosom,
    Warmed by love which truly glows;
  Ah!  I’m wearied with their chanting
    Of imagined lovers’ woes!

  I will climb upon the mountains,
    Where the quiet cabin stands,
  Where the wind blows freely o’er us,
    Where the heart at ease expands.

  I will climb upon the mountains,
    Where the sombre fir-trees grow;
  Brooks are rustling, birds are singing,
    And the wild clouds headlong go.

  Then farewell, ye polished ladies,
    Polished men and polished hall! 
  I will climb upon the mountains,
    Smiling down upon you all.

The town of Goettingen, celebrated for its sausages and its University, belongs to the King of Hanover, and contains nine hundred and ninety-nine dwellings, divers churches, a lying-in hospital, an observatory, a prison for students, a library, and a “Ratskeller,” where the beer is excellent.  The stream which flows by the town is called the Leine, and is used in summer for bathing, its waters being very cold, and in more than one place it is so broad that Lueder was obliged to take quite a run ere he could leap across.  The town itself is beautiful, and pleases most when one’s back is turned to it.  It must be very ancient, for I well remember that five years ago, when I matriculated there (and shortly after received notice to quit), it had already the