Most gladly would I give the blood-stain'd laurel
For the first violet[1] of the leafless spring,
Pluck'd in those quiet fields where I have journey'd!
OCTAVIO.
MAX.
From thence am I come hither: O! that fight,
It glimmers still before me, like some landscape
Left in the distance,—some delicious landscape!
My road conducted me thro' countries where
The war has not yet reach'd. Life, life, my father———
My venerable father, Life has charms
Which we have ne'er experienc'd. We have been
But voyaging along it's barren coasts,
Like some poor ever-roaming horde of pirates,
That, crowded in the rank and narrow ship,
House on the wild sea with wild usages,
Nor know aught of the main land, but the bays
Where safeliest they may venture a thieves' landing.
Whate'er in th' inland dales the land conceals
Of fair and exquisite, O! nothing, nothing,
Do we behold of that in our rude voyage.
- ↑ In the original,
Den blutgen Lorbeer, geb ich hin, mit Freuden
Fiirs erste veilchen, das der merz uns bringt,
Das duftige Pffand der neuverjüngten Erde.
