Hakon Jarl, a Tragedy [in Verse] Tr , and Poems after Various Others

Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: HIF.MVEE. O, Thou wondrous evening sky Whither dost thou lead my soul ? Sweet odours that refreshing fly, Tell me whither now ye roll ? Flee ye o'er the glistening strand To my loved fatherland ? Will ye with sweet breath reveal All my torn heart must conceal? Ah wearied sun behind those hills Thou...
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Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: HIF.MVEE. O, Thou wondrous evening sky Whither dost thou lead my soul ? Sweet odours that refreshing fly, Tell me whither now ye roll ? Flee ye o'er the glistening strand To my loved fatherland ? Will ye with sweet breath reveal All my torn heart must conceal? Ah wearied sun behind those hills Thou sinkest now with lurid light, And leavest me to mine own ills, And the deep solitude of night. No mountain rears its head austere At home: am I then better here Where are the smiling solitudes Of my dear Hertha's whispering woods ? Norway's son, I call to mind, Thou hast sung with melting breast, Nowhere save at home we find Peaceful joy and tranquil rest: ? Swiss, who from the mountains came, Of thy land hast thou said the same. Holy the feeling is that which fills Both hearts with love for your dear hills. Hismvee?That longing for home which maketh the heart sick. But think not then that mountains only Impress themselves upon the heart, My darken'd mind feels here more lonely; To me these rocks no joys impart. Pines, whose dark boughs sighing move Where is my home's beech-tree grove The winding flood that here doth roll Cannot lull nor sooth my soul. At home there flows no rolling river, Confined in a channel steep: The fount of life, of joy the giver, Extends itself, the silvery deep Encircleth in her kindly arms Her daughter's full, luxuriant charms, And amid flowers, delighted rests On Siolunda's fragrant breasts. Peace, O peace Lo, a boat swingeth To yon bank in the moonlight; To her guitar a maiden singeth, '' In this stilly summer-night.? Pure, suave tones Enchanting art How thou streamest through my heart Why mourn I over earthly things, While that maid so sweetly sings ? ...