Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PICTURES OF TRAVEL: THE BALTIC, PART 1: 10. THE OCEAN'S SPECTRE, by HEINRICH HEINE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PICTURES OF TRAVEL: THE BALTIC, PART 1: 10. THE OCEAN'S SPECTRE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: But I upon the ship's edge was lying
Last Line: "why, doctor, are you mad?"
Subject(s): Sailing & Sailors; Sea; Soul; Seamen; Sails; Ocean


BUT I upon the ship's edge was lying,
And gazed with my eyes all dreamy
Down on the glassy pellucid water,
And gazed yet deeper and deeper --
Till, deep in the ocean's abysses,
At first like a glimmering mist,
Then, bit by bit, with hues more decided,
Domes of churches and towers appeared,
And at last, clear as sunlight, a city,
Antiquarian Netherlandish,
And swarming with life.
Reverent men, in garments of black,
With snowy frills and chains of honour,
And lengthy swords and lengthy faces,
Over the crowded market are pacing
Tow'rd the high-stair'd council-chamber,
Where Emperors' stony images
Keep guard with sceptre and sword: --
Hard by, in front of the long row of houses,
With mirror-like glistening windows,
Stand the lindens all trimm'd into pyramids,
And silken rustling maidens are wandering,
A golden band round their slender bodies,
Their blooming faces neatly surrounded
By head-dresses velvet and black,
From whence their abundant locks are escaping.
Gay young fellows, in Spanish costume,
Proudly are passing and nodding.
Aged women,
In garments all brown and strange-looking,
Psalm-book and rosary in hand,
Hasten with tripping step
Tow'rd the cathedral church,
Impell'd by the sound of the bells,
And the rushing notes of the organ.

Mysterious awe seizeth me too,
Caused by the distant sound;
A ne'er-ending yearning and sadness deep
Steal o'er my heart,
My scarcely-heal'd heart;
It seems as though its bitter wounds
By dear lips were kiss'd open,
And once again were bleeding
With drops hot and ruddy,
Which long and slowly downward fall
Upon an ancient house below
In yon deep-ocean city,
Upon an ancient and high-gabled house,
Where sits in lonely melancholy
A maiden at the window,
Her head on her arm reclined,
Like to some poor, forgotten child,
And I know thee, thou poor, forgotten child

Thus deep, thus deep, then
Thou hidd'st thyself from me
In some childish conceit,
And couldst not reascend,
And sattest strange, among strange people,
Five hundred years,
And I meanwhile, with soul full of grief,
Sought thee over all the earth,
And ever sought thee,
Thou ever-beloved one,
Thou long-time-lost one,
Thou finally-found one, --
I've found thee at last, and again behold
Thy countenance sweet,
Thine eyes so prudent and faithful,
Thy smile so dear --
And never again will I leave thee,
And downward hasten I to thee,
And with wide-spreading arms
Throw myself down on thy heart.

But just in time
I was seized by the foot by the Captain,
And torn from the side of the ship,
While he cried, laughing bitterly:
"Why, Doctor, are you mad?"





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