 | The lion's cub |  |
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ROMANCES FROM GUSTAVO BECQUER.
I.
I dare behold thee asleep,
Awake, I tremble and weep;
So, life of my life, let me watch thee,
While thou art asleep, asleep.
Awake, I tremble and weep;
So, life of my life, let me watch thee,
While thou art asleep, asleep.
I press my hand on my heart,
So wild are its beatings and deep,
Lest they trouble the peace of midnight,
Where thou art asleep, asleep
So wild are its beatings and deep,
Lest they trouble the peace of midnight,
Where thou art asleep, asleep
I draw thy shutters close,
And nightly my watch I keep,
Lest the dawn too early should wake thee,
When thou art asleep, asleep.
And nightly my watch I keep,
Lest the dawn too early should wake thee,
When thou art asleep, asleep.
II.
A tear was in her eye,
But the tear was not shed;
A word was on my lip,
But the word was not said.
But the tear was not shed;
A word was on my lip,
But the word was not said.
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Why did we meet and part,
So near that day, and dear?
Why was the word not said?
And why not shed the tear?
So near that day, and dear?
Why was the word not said?
And why not shed the tear?
III.
The vision of thine eyes
Is ever in my mind,
Like the glory of the sun
In the memory of the blind.
Is ever in my mind,
Like the glory of the sun
In the memory of the blind.
Wherever I may go,
Lo, thou hast gone before;
I do not find thee there,
Only thine eyes—no more.
Lo, thou hast gone before;
I do not find thee there,
Only thine eyes—no more.
They guide me to my room,
They light me to my bed;
I feel them in my sleep
Still watching o'er my head.
They light me to my bed;
I feel them in my sleep
Still watching o'er my head.
Marsh-fires that nightly lead
The wanderer through the gloom;
So do thine eyes beguile—
I know not to what tomb!
The wanderer through the gloom;
So do thine eyes beguile—
I know not to what tomb!
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VI.
That she is proud, capricious, void of worth,
I know, who long have suffered from her art;
Sooner shall water from a rock break forth
Than feeling from her heart.
I know, who long have suffered from her art;
Sooner shall water from a rock break forth
Than feeling from her heart.
Woo her who will, her heart is still her own,
Love seeks, but finds no answering fibre there;
Inanimate she is—a thing of stone—
But oh, so fair, so fair!
Love seeks, but finds no answering fibre there;
Inanimate she is—a thing of stone—
But oh, so fair, so fair!
V.
As in an open volume,
I read your deep, deep eyes;
Why frame, then, shallow stories
Which every glance belies?
I read your deep, deep eyes;
Why frame, then, shallow stories
Which every glance belies?
That you a little loved me
Be not ashamed to say;
If a man weeps (I am weeping),
Be sure a woman may!
Be not ashamed to say;
If a man weeps (I am weeping),
Be sure a woman may!
VI.
I sat on the edge of the bed,
Where the lamp-light could not fall;
Silent, as though I were dead,
With blank eyes fixed on the wall.
Where the lamp-light could not fall;
Silent, as though I were dead,
With blank eyes fixed on the wall.
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I sat on my bed alone,
Till the long, dark night was done,
And in at the window shone
The insolent light of the sun.
Till the long, dark night was done,
And in at the window shone
The insolent light of the sun.
What terrible, nameless woe,
What memories over me rolled,
I know not; I only know
I grew in that one night—old.
What memories over me rolled,
I know not; I only know
I grew in that one night—old.
VII.
The dusky swallows will return,
And, building as before,
Beneath your eaves their hanging nests,
Will call their young once more.
And, building as before,
Beneath your eaves their hanging nests,
Will call their young once more.
But those that used to check their wings,
As they flew along the shore,
To watch your beauty and my love—
They will return no more.
As they flew along the shore,
To watch your beauty and my love—
They will return no more.
The honeysuckles will return,
And climb your garden wall,
And once more will their flowers unfold,
When night begins to fall.
And climb your garden wall,
And once more will their flowers unfold,
When night begins to fall.
But those that earliest caught the dew,
Beside your lattice-door,
And held it till the morn was come—
They will return no more.
Beside your lattice-door,
And held it till the morn was come—
They will return no more.
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Once more the burning words of love
Upon your ears may break,
And from its slumber long and deep
Once more your heart may wake.
Upon your ears may break,
And from its slumber long and deep
Once more your heart may wake.
But speechless, kneeling at your feet,
Like those who saints adore,
Though I may love you (as I shall)
I shall return no more!
Like those who saints adore,
Though I may love you (as I shall)
I shall return no more!
VIII.
Before thou diest I shall die,
For in my heart I bear,
Bleeding to death, the cruel steel
Thy hand hath planted there.
For in my heart I bear,
Bleeding to death, the cruel steel
Thy hand hath planted there.
Before thou diest I shall die,
But faithful still shall be,
For seated at the gate of death,
My soul will wait for thee.
But faithful still shall be,
For seated at the gate of death,
My soul will wait for thee.
Day after day, year after year,
Until thy life be past,
And at that portal thou shalt knock
Where all must knock at last.
Until thy life be past,
And at that portal thou shalt knock
Where all must knock at last.
Then, when the earth is lying soft
On thee—thy lips and eyes,
When plunged in death's baptismal stream
Washed pure, thou shalt arise;
On thee—thy lips and eyes,
When plunged in death's baptismal stream
Washed pure, thou shalt arise;
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There, where the tumult of mankind
Is heard and seen no more,
Gone, like the wind that raised the wave,
The spent wave on the shore:
Is heard and seen no more,
Gone, like the wind that raised the wave,
The spent wave on the shore:
There, where to live is not to die,
To love is not to fear—
We shall know all; for we shall speak
All that we spake not here!
To love is not to fear—
We shall know all; for we shall speak
All that we spake not here!
| The lion's cub | |