LES MALHEUREUX

Par M"^' Ackermann.

La trompette a sonné. Des tombes entrouvertes Les pâles habitants ont tout à coup frémi.

LARMES ET SODUIRES 371

One day, but one, to spend o'er these brief leaves,

To utter my sad verse in my own way,

What I of those bright dreams see — which one weaves

Of grandest concerts what I hear today.

One day, but one — no, not one hour — fate tells,

To pour my heart out, not a word or sound,

The captive spirit which in my heart dwells,

In vain the walls beats of my cell around.

Thus fall, unseen, the spai^ks on every side

Of flames in secret lighted, yet but small,

When outward opens there an issue wide,

'Tis that within it has consumed its all.

If Thou would'st on thy vast eternal dome

Fix from the cradle my too feeble eyes,

0 God, why not grant me those wings to roam, Which with one flight will bear me to the skies.

1 who, from this world easily detached, Aspire to free me from the chains below.

Must I but glean bent towards this earth unmatched. These ears of corn spread 'neath my feet, ah! no. Must I sad in the common harvest seek My fragile lot of pleasure and of pain, When there's no fortune in this life so bleak, Which does not far surpass my wishes vain. May naught of me I pray be left behind To think, — to suffer, nought remaining here, Nor wish to shew before I leave mankind. The beatings of my heart to those most dear. Enchanted sounds which only my ear hears, Divine sights, dreams which to me joy did give, You who now show me wondrous worlds and tears, Where will you be when I no longer live?