Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ROMANCERO: BOOK 3. HEBREW MELODIES: PRINCESS SABBATH, by HEINRICH HEINE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ROMANCERO: BOOK 3. HEBREW MELODIES: PRINCESS SABBATH, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: In arabia's books of stories
Last Line: Till it crackles and goes out.
Subject(s): Arabia; Daughters; Love; Sabbath; Sunday


IN Arabia's books of stories
Read we of enchanted princes,
Who from time to time recover'd
Their once handsome pristine features;

Or the whilome hairy monster
To a king's son is converted,
Dress'd in gay and glittering garments,
And the flute divinely playing.

Yet the magic time expires,
And once more and of a sudden
We behold his royal highness
Changed into a shaggy monster.

Of a prince of such-like fortune
Sings my song. His name is Israel,
And a witch's art has changed him
To the figure of a dog.

As a dog, with doggish notions,
All the week his time he muddles
Through life's filthiness and sweepings,
To the scavengers' derision.

But upon each Friday evening,
Just at twilight, the enchantment
Ceases suddenly, -- the dog
Once more is a human being.

As a man, with human feelings,
With his head and breast raised proudly,
Dress'd in festival attire,
His paternal halls he enters.

"Hail, all hail, ye halls beloved
"Of my gracious regal father!
"Tents of Jacob, your all-holy
"Entrance posts my mouth thus kisses!"

Through the house mysteriously
Goes a whispering and buzzing,
And the unseen master of it
Shudd'ring breathes amid the silence, --

Silence, save the seneschal
(Vulgo Synagogue-Attendant)
Here and there with vigour springing,
As the lamps he seeks to kindle.

Golden lights so comfort-giving,
How they glitter, how they glimmer!
Proudly also flare the tapers
On the rails of the Almemor.

At the shrine wherein the Thora
Is preserved, and which is cover'd
With the costly silken cov'ring
That with precious jewels sparkles, --

There beside his post, already
Stands prepared the parish minstrel,
Dandy little man, who shoulders
His black cloak coquettishly.

His white hand to show the better,
At his neck he works, his finger
Pressing strangely to his temple,
And his thumb against his throat.

To himself then softly trills he,
Till at length his voice he raises
Joyfully, and loudly sings he:
"Lecho Daudi Likras Kalle!

"Lecho Daudi Likras Kalle --
"Loved one, come! the bride already
"Waiteth for thee, to uncover
"To thy face her blushing features!"

This most charming marriage ditty
Was composed by the illustrious
Far and wide known Minnesinger
Don Jehuda ben Halevy.

In the song was celebrated
The espousals of Prince Israel
With the lovely Princess Sabbath,
Whom they call the silent princess.

Pearl and flower of perfect beauty
Is the Princess. Fairer never
Was the famous queen of Sheba,
Solomon's old bosom-friend,

Ethiopian vain blue-stocking,
Who with her esprit would dazzle,
And with all her clever riddles
Was, I fear, extremely tedious.

But our Princess Sabbath, who was
Peace itself personified,
Held in utter detestation
All debates and wit-encounters.

Equally abhorr'd she noisy
And declamatory passion, --
All that pathos which with flowing
And dishevell'd hair storms wildly.

Modestly the silent princess
In her hood conceals her tresses;
Soft as the gazelle's her looks are,
Slender as an Addas blooms she.

She allows her lover all things
Save this one, -- tobacco-smoking:
"Loved one! smoking is forbidden,
"For to-day the Sabbath is,

"But at noon, in compensation,
"Thou a steaming dish shalt taste of,
"Which is perfectly delicious --
"Thou shall eat to-day some Schalet!'

"Schalet, beauteous spark immortal,
"Daughter of Elysium!"
Thus would Schiller's song have sung it,
Had he ever tasted Schalet.

Schalet is the food of heaven,
Which the Lord Himself taught Moses
How to cook, when on that visit
To the summit of Mount Sinai,

Where the Lord Almighty also
Every good religious doctrine
And the holy ten commandments
Publish'd in a storm of lightning.

Schalet is the pure ambrosia
That the food of heaven composes --
Is the bread of Paradise;
And compared with food so glorious,

The ambrosia of the spurious
Heathen gods whom Greece once worshipp
And were naught but muffled devils,
Was but wretched devil's dung.

When the prince this food hath tasted,
Gleams his eye as if transfigured,
And his waistcoat he unbuttons,
And he speaks with smiles of rapture:

"Hear I not the Jordan murmuring?
"Is it not the gushing fountains
"In the palmy vale of Beth-El,
"Where the camels have their station?

"Hear I not the sheep-bells ringing?
"Is it not the well-fed wethers
"Whom the herdsman drives at evening
"Down from Gilead's lofty mountain?"

Yet the beauteous day fades quickly;
As with long and shadowy legs
Hastens on the fell enchantment's
Evil hour, the prince sighs sadly,

Feeling as though with his bosom
Icy witches' fingers grappled;
He's pervaded by the fear of
Canine metamorphosis.

To the prince then hands the princes.
Her own golden box of spikenard;
Long he smells, once more desiring
To find comfort in sweet odours.

Next the parting drink the princess
Gives the prince -- He hastily
Drinks, and in the goblet only
Some few drops are left untasted.

With them sprinkles he the table,
Then he takes a little waxlight,
And he dips it in the moisture
Till it crackles and goes out.





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