Poems (Schiller)/The wandering minstrels
THE WANDERING MINSTRELS(Written for "Our Fireside Friend ".)
We paused at the edge of town,
The friend of my heart and I,
Our dreaming souls entranced
By the beauty of earth and sky;
The river murmuring by
From the sloping sward at our feet,
Widening like a silver span,
From mountain to mountain complete.
The friend of my heart and I,
Our dreaming souls entranced
By the beauty of earth and sky;
The river murmuring by
From the sloping sward at our feet,
Widening like a silver span,
From mountain to mountain complete.
Soft clouds of a glorious dye,
And delicate gold-wrought frills
Bent down from an amethyst sky
To kiss the brows of the hills.
The rays of the dying sun
Lay tremulous on the trees,
When the wand'ring minstrels came
And flung their strains on the breeze.
And delicate gold-wrought frills
Bent down from an amethyst sky
To kiss the brows of the hills.
The rays of the dying sun
Lay tremulous on the trees,
When the wand'ring minstrels came
And flung their strains on the breeze.
Midnight of hair and of eyes,
Where do the rovers belong?
Swift is the glance that descries
Their land of romance and song;
Italia! the silver-sprayed sea
Between us surges and thrills,
But the throb of the musical heart
Wakes response amid our hills,
Where do the rovers belong?
Swift is the glance that descries
Their land of romance and song;
Italia! the silver-sprayed sea
Between us surges and thrills,
But the throb of the musical heart
Wakes response amid our hills,
Ah! list to the wonderful sounds
That quiver and softly glide
From the violin, and harp-strings
That the swarthy fingers guide!
Where did they catch the air?
From a master brain and hand,
Or is it the wail of souls
Exiled from their native land?
That quiver and softly glide
From the violin, and harp-strings
That the swarthy fingers guide!
Where did they catch the air?
From a master brain and hand,
Or is it the wail of souls
Exiled from their native land?
Away to the far-off heaven
Like a troubled prayer it floats.
Pain sighs in the higher strains,
And sobs in the under notes.
As I hearken, vanish from view
The pictures of nature nigh,
And I wander amid the scenes
Of a bright Italian sky.
Like a troubled prayer it floats.
Pain sighs in the higher strains,
And sobs in the under notes.
As I hearken, vanish from view
The pictures of nature nigh,
And I wander amid the scenes
Of a bright Italian sky.
Rich, sloping vineyards here
With their purple fruitage shine,
Gay-hearted people press
The grapes into gleaming wine,
Wild is the dance, light the song,
Melody lives on the breeze,
Sweet with the myrtle's breath,
And odors of fragrant trees.
With their purple fruitage shine,
Gay-hearted people press
The grapes into gleaming wine,
Wild is the dance, light the song,
Melody lives on the breeze,
Sweet with the myrtle's breath,
And odors of fragrant trees.
The miserere ebbs away
Recalling me from my dream,
Of arches ruined and gray,
Where the flashiug fountains gleam,
Back for the power that swayed
Is past, and I cease to rove
By the distant Alban hills
And orange and olive grove.
Recalling me from my dream,
Of arches ruined and gray,
Where the flashiug fountains gleam,
Back for the power that swayed
Is past, and I cease to rove
By the distant Alban hills
And orange and olive grove.
The sunlight is dead in the air,
Stars burn in the dusky sky,
The minstrels stray on, while the moon
Mounts up to her throne on high,
Kind nature is spreading her dews,
Like a mist of tears they fall.
Dear Dame, dost thy pitiful heart
Weep at the weird music's call?
Stars burn in the dusky sky,
The minstrels stray on, while the moon
Mounts up to her throne on high,
Kind nature is spreading her dews,
Like a mist of tears they fall.
Dear Dame, dost thy pitiful heart
Weep at the weird music's call?