THE BANKS OF RHINE. And the red and golden vines, And the Alps, whose snows are spread And my spirit, which so long Darkened this swift stream of song, By the glory of the sky. SHELLEY. THE BANKS OF RHINE. OT everywhere the vine bedecks our border, That harbour in their bosoms wild disorder; Thuringia's hills, for instance, are aspiring To rear a juice like wine; But that is all-nor mirth nor song inspiring, 171 And other hills, with buried treasures glowing, For wine are far too cold; Though iron ores and cobalt there are growing, And chance some paltry gold. The Rhine-the Rhine, there glow the gay plantations; Oh, hallowed be the Rhine! Upon his banks are brewed the rich potations Of this consoling wine. Drink to the Rhine! and every coming morrow, Be mirth and music thine! And when we meet a child of care and sorrow, We'll send him to the Rhine! From "Matthias Claudius," translated by LONGFellow. GOOD AND EVIL. HE sweetest flowers are ever frail and rare, And love and freedom blossom but to wither; And good and ill like vines entangled are, So that their grapes may oft be plucked together; Divide the vintage ere thou drink, then make Thy heart rejoice for dead Mazenghi's sake. |