Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ATTA TROLL; A SUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM: CAPUT 20, by HEINRICH HEINE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ATTA TROLL; A SUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM: CAPUT 20, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Twas the sunrise. Golden arrows
Last Line: And the town jerusalem.
Subject(s): Dawn; Dreams; Jerusalem; Love; Sunrise; Nightmares


'TWAS the sunrise. Golden arrows
Shot against the white mist fiercely,
Which turn'd red, as though sore wounded,
And in light and glory melted.

Finally the victory's won,
And the day, the triumphator,
Stood, in full and beaming splendour,
On the summit of the mountain.

All the birds in noisy chorus
Twitter'd in their secret nests,
And a smell of herbs arose too,
Like a concert of sweet odours.

At the earliest dawn of morning
To the valley we descended,
And whilst friend Lascaro follow'd
On the traces of the bear,

I the time to kill attempted
With my thoughts, and yet this thinking
Made me at the last quite weary,
And a little mournful even.

Weary, then, and mournful sank I
On the soft moss-bank beside me.
Under yonder mighty ash-tree,
Where the little streamlet flow'd,

Which, with its mysterious plashing
So mysteriously befool'd me,
That all thoughts and power of thinking
From my spirit pass'd away.

And a raging yearning seized me
For a dream, for death, for madness,
For that woman-rider, whom I
In the spirit-march had seen.

O ye lovely nightly faces,
Scared away by beams of morning,
Tell me, whither have ye fleeted?
Tell me, where ye dwell at daytime?

Under olden temples' ruins,
Far away in the Romagna
(So 'tis said) Diana refuge
Seeks by day from Christ's dominion.

Only in the midnight darkness
From her hiding place she ventures,
And rejoices in the chase
With her heathenish companions.

And the beauteous fay Abunde
Of the Nazarenes is fearful,
And throughout the day she lingers
Safe within her Avalun.

This fair island lies deep-hidden
Far off, in the silent ocean
Of romance, that none can reach save
On the fabled horse's pinions.

Never there casts care its anchor,
Never there appears a steamer,
Full of wonder-seeking blockheads,
With tobacco-pipes in mouth.

Never reaches there the languid
Sound of bells, so dull and tedious, --
That incessant bim-bom clatter
Which the fairies so detest.

There, in never-troubled pleasure,
And in youth eternal blooming,
Still resides the joyous lady,
Our blond dame, the fay Abunde.

Laughingly her walks there takes she
Under lofty heliotropes.
With her talking train beside her,
World-departed Paladins.

Well, and thou, Herodias, prythee
Say where art thou? Ah, I know it,
Thou art dead, and liest buried
By the town Jerusalem!

Stiffly sleeps by day thy body,
In its marble coffin prison'd;
Yet the cracking whips and halloing
Waken thee at midnight's hour,

And the wild array thou followest
With Diana and Abunde,
With thy merry hunting comrades,
Who hold cross and pain detested.

O what sweet society!
Could I hunt with you by night-time
Through the forests! By thy side
Always would I ride, Herodias!

For 'tis thee I love the dearest!
More than yonder Grecian goddess,
More than yonder Northern fairy,
Love I thee, thou Jewess dead!

Yes, I love thee! Well I know it
By the trembling of my spirit;
Love thou me, and be my darling,
Sweet Herodias, beauteous woman

I'm the yery knight thou wantest!
Little truly it concerns me
That thou'rt dead and damn'd already,
For I'm free from prejudices.

My own happiness 'tis only
That concerns me, and at times I
Feel inclined to doubt if truly
To the living I belong!

Take me as thy knight, I pray thee,
As thy Cavalier servente,
And thy mantle will I carry
And e'en all thy whims put up with.

Every night I'll ride beside thee,
With the army wild careering;
Merrily we'll talk and laugh then
At my frenzied conversation.

Thus the time I'll shorten for thee
In the night; but yet by day-time
All our joy will fly, and weeping
On that grave I'll take my seat.

Yes, I'll sit by day-time weeping
On the regal vault's sad ruins,
On the grave of thee, my loved one,
By the town Jerusalem.

Aged Jews, who chance to pass me,
Then will surely think I'm sorrowing
For the temple's desolation,
And the town Jerusalem.





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