Page PASKEWITSCH Réstless as billows of the sea TRUE FRIENDS. TICK TICK TICK.. Í, being a boy, used thus to count my fingers Tén broad stéps there 's to my ládder Ónce it happened I was walking The human skull is of deceit I am a versemaker by trade Sometimes I've with my Muse a miff Sweet breathes the hawthorn in the early spring King Will his seat in royal state Wéll, it is a dárling creáture! WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM AT PREDAZZO. 31 31 32 32 58 59 60 62 64 Within the convent of Johannathal I like the Belgian cleanliness and comfort 65 70 WRITTEN UNDER A PORTRAIT OF CARDINAL MEZZOFANTI Once on a time it happened as I was lounging in the Vatican I wish I wére that little mouse. What dog is thát, Sir, tell me, pray "If well thou wouldst get through this troublesome world" Another and another and another Get úp, fool, fróm your bended knee THE WAY TO HEAVEN. THE BEGGAR AND THE BISHOP. 86 88 89 90 93 94 94 96 97 98 . 100 Tóngueless thou 'st yét a triple voice, gray lock Well now I'm sure I don't know why in the world it was pút there 118 "Týrant, I'll have my rights;" I once heard say. Do good to your friend and hé 'll do good to you LUCIUS JUNIUS BRUTUS. 134 134 135 What benéficent Jóve was 't, or Búddh or Osíris 140 No more questions, good friénd, no more quéstions, I práy 'Tis the little boy láshing his tóp in the coúrt 143 143 Ás in Tíbur's pleásant vílla. 144 'Twas on the First of Jánuary early in the morning You don't like my writings, won't read them nor buy them While there 's óne drop in the bottle If rightly on my theme I think He's dead these long áges, and áll his bones moúldered. 145 148 148 148 149 149 149 150 152 152 153 153 "Págan, forsáke your Góds," the Christian cries "See before thee," said Hópe, "where the pleasant light yónder With pallid lip quívering and fíery eye flashing Pást Time 's dead and gone, and búried, and the réquiem sung óver her HAMLET. ROMEO AND JULIET. THE TEMPEST. KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. Here I go up and down, hop, hop, hóp AUF WIEDERSEH'N!. TO HOFRATH SÜPFLE AND HIS DAUGHTER EMILIA. TO PROFESSOR GRATZ, ON MY LEAVING CARLSRUHE, Aug. 16, 1855 TO DOCTOR E. TAFEL, ON MY LEAVING TÜBINGEN, Aug. 31, 1855 LUCEM PEROSUS. Whý so shy of death, sweet ínfant?. Acúte, obsérvant, witty and profound "Tell me, Quintus," ónce said Vírgil Page 159 Ásk me not what her name was ít ’s small matter She never in her whole life wrote one stánza They say I'm óf a Propaganda school Ínto two classes áll men Í divíde IN FRÄULEIN JULIE FINCKH'S ALBUM. . No wonder, reáder, that from all I say Ón my bed. These verses reád, and, having read, tell me This world's so fast progréssing I do not despair to see yet The coachman drives, the horses draw, the cárriage carries Díves Wouldst thou convince the doubting world thou 'rt truly.` There are two sisters; óne with bright. In Róme's old days of glóry, when a cítizén thought fít THE ASTRONOMERS Well to get through this world there 's óne receipt INSCRIPTION FOR A LUCIFER-MATCH BOX. (11). . . Clever people are disagreeable, always taking the advántage of you Right for you 's wrong for mé. "Stop! stay! let 's consider!" cried Irresolution Summer 's góne fled away with his lílies and róses MARBACH . Óver hill and plaín and válley Warum, mein Kind, sehn'st du dich so nach Oben? 211 212 In the name of Gód we bind thee to this stake 214 "What's the reáson, Prométheus," once saíd Epimétheus O inscrútable jústice and mércy and wisdom! TO JUSTINUS KERNER, THE SUABIAN POET, ON HIS SEVENTIETH BIRTHDAY. The cause I 'd fain knów BAWSINT MALKIN. His máster deád, poor Snap with troubled eye Goéthe, thou sảyst a poem was néver good . 221 TO A POET ABOUT TO WRITE IN A LADY'S NEW ALBUM. CESAR AND CASSIUS. INSCRIPTION FOR A LUCIFER MATCH BOX. (III). Othello says: Thy púrse is trásh So many maps, guides, sígnposts point the way Give us beaúty - we cáre not for stréngth. The sun shines ón me áll the day To William, half in jest and half in earnest Man 's a hammer, thou sáy'st, made to hámmer hard náture That mán 's worth millions, but that man 's unworthy. As long as thou faithfully lóv'st me. In this apple 's a core, in that core there's a pippin expíres in the bírth 227 228 228 229 230 230 231 231 Page If thou wouldst pleáse the Góds thou must contrive 236 237 237 All the good which we see in this wórld proves God's goodness 239 Arabélla my sóng read 240 TO FRÄULEIN EMILIA SÜPFLE, CARLSRUHE, Nov. 19, 1855. 240 UNDER A PORTRAIT OF THE AUTHOR. Forget néver to hold thyself évenly bálanced 240 241 Right 242 242 243 Well! great poets don't álways the best sense indíte! 243 What a pity thou 'rt childless! thou 'dst beén a kind párent “There it ís, Ma!" said Cúpid, showing Vénus a thórn Nó! no! nó! I ’ll nót beliéve it 244 244 245 OPTIO JULIANI. "When think'st thou will áll men be óf one opínion ?". I ténderly love thee, and plédge thee my tróth I swear what I knów, that I ténderly love thee 246 246 247 247 248 249 250 250 The embryo in the womb or néwly bórn. 251 251 Mán with sagácious fórethought pénetrates 252 May I beg to ask whý thou preférrest me, Múse! From blank noúght to the womb, from the womb to the crádle Bad vérses, Sir póet; there néver were worse 260 Here I am, your thimblerígger, kind géntlemen and ládies All Césars since Július have worn the laur'l wreath 260 261 262 262 |