As the buds shoot forth.

He who from the world retires,

Void of hate, is blest;
Who a friend’s true love inspires,

Leaning on his breast!

That which heedless man ne’er knew,

Or ne’er thought aright,
Roams the bosom’s labyrinth through,

Boldly into night.

1789.*
-----
To Lina.

Should these songs, love, as they fleet,

Chance again to reach thy hand,
At the piano take thy seat,

Where thy friend was wont to stand!

Sweep with finger bold the string,

Then the book one moment see: 
But read not! do nought but sing!

And each page thine own will be!

Ah, what grief the song imparts

With its letters, black on white,
That, when breath’d by thee, our hearts

Now can break and now delight!

1800.*
-----
Ever and everywhere.

Far explore the mountain hollow,
High in air the clouds then follow!

To each brook and vale the Muse

Thousand times her call renews.

Soon as a flow’ret blooms in spring,
It wakens many a strain;

And when Time spreads his fleeting wing,

The seasons come again.

1820.*
-----
Petition.

Oh thou sweet maiden fair,
Thou with the raven hair,

Why to the window go?

While gazing down below,
Art standing vainly there?

Oh, if thou stood’st for me,
And lett’st the latch but fly,

How happy should I be! 
How soon would I leap high!

1789.*
-----
To his coy one.

SEEST thou yon smiling Orange? 
Upon the tree still hangs it;
Already March bath vanish’d,
And new-born flow’rs are shooting. 
I draw nigh to the tree then,
And there I say:  Oh Orange,
Thou ripe and juicy Orange,
Thou sweet and luscious Orange,
I shake the tree, I shake it,
Oh fall into my lap!

1789.*
-----
Night thoughts.

Oh, unhappy stars! your fate I mourn,

Ye by whom the sea-toss’d sailor’s lighted,
Who with radiant beams the heav’ns adorn,

But by gods and men are unrequited: 
For ye love not,—­ne’er have learnt to love! 
Ceaselessly in endless dance ye move,
In the spacious sky your charms displaying,

What far travels ye have hasten’d through,
Since, within my loved one’s arms delaying,

I’ve forgotten you and midnight too!

1789.*
-----
To Lida.

The only one whom, Lida, thou canst love,

Thou claim’st, and rightly claim’st, for only thee;
He too is wholly thine; since doomed to rove

Far from thee, in life’s turmoils nought I see
Save a thin veil, through which thy form I view,
As though in clouds; with kindly smile and true,