Of maiden's touch and friendship's clasp.
A charming fool at love's vocation,
He fed on hope's eternal ration;
The world's fresh glitter and its call
Still held his youthful mind in thrall;
He entertained with fond illusions
The doubts that plagued his heart and will;
The goal of life, he found, was still
A tempting riddle of confusions;
He racked his brains and rather thought
That miracles could still be wrought.
8
He knew a kindred soul was fated
To join her life to his career,
That even now she pined and waited,
Expecting he would soon appear.
And he believed that men would tender
Their freedom for his honour's splendour;
That friendly hands would surely rise
To shatter slander's cup of lies;
That there exists a holy cluster
Of chosen ones whom men should heed,
A happy and immortal breed,
Whose potent light in all its lustre
Would one day shine upon our race
And grant the world redeeming grace.*
9
Compassion, noble indignation,
A perfect love of righteous ways,
And fame's delicious agitation
Had stirred his soul since early days.
He roamed the world with singing lyre
And found the source of lyric fire
Beneath the skies of distant lands,
From Goethe's and from Schiller's hands.
He never shamed, the happy creature,
The lofty Muses of his art;
He proudly sang with open heart
Sublime emotion's every feature,
The charm of gravely simple things,
And youthful hopes on youthful wings.
10
He sang of love, by love commanded,
A simple and affecting tune,
As clear as maiden thoughts, as candid
As infant slumber, as the moon
In heaven's peaceful desert flying,
That queen of secrets and of sighing.
He sang of parting and of pain,
Of something vague, of mists and rain;
