2021年欧洲杯足球锦标赛 But, ah! above,Where saw I my love,Within her room,Small, mantled in gloom,Enclosed around,Where sunlight was drown'd,How little there was earth to me,With all its beauteous majesty!
He never drank again. Then the youth gave way to his sorrow, and burst into weeping,Weeping aloud on the breast of his mother, and softly replying"Truly, my father's words to-day have wounded me sadly,Never have I deserved at his hands such treatment,--no, never!For to honour my parents was always my wish from my childhood,No one ever appear'd so prudent and wise as my parents,Who in the darker days of childhood carefully watch'd me.Much indeed it has been my lot to endure from my playmates,When with their knavish pranks they used to embitter my temper.Often I little suspected the tricks they were playing upon me:But if they happen'd to ridicule Father, whenever on SundaysOut of church he came with his slow deliberate footsteps,If they laugh'd at the strings of his cap, and his dressing-gown's flowers,Which he in stately wise wore, and to-day at length has discarded,Then in a fury I clench'd my fist, and, storming and raging,Fell upon them and hit and struck with terrible onslaught,Heedless where my blows fell. With bleeding noses they halloed,And could scarcely escape from the force of my blows and my kicking.Then, as in years I advanced, I had much to endure from my father,Who, in default of others to blame, would often abuse me,When at the Council's last sitting his anger perchance was excited,And I the penalty paid of the squabbles and strife of his colleagues.You yourself have oft pitied me; I endured it with patience,Always rememb'ring the much-to-be-honour'd kindness of parents,Whose only thought is to swell for our sakes their goods and possessions,And who deprive themselves of much, to save for their children.But, alas, not saving alone, for enjoyment hereafter,Constitutes happiness, no, not heaps of gold or of silver,Neither field upon field, however compact the estate be.For the father grows old, and his son at the same time grows older,Feeling no joy in To-day, and full of care for To-morrow.Now look down from this height, and see how beauteous before usLies the fair rich expanse, with vineyard and gardens at bottom;There are the stables and barns, and the rest of the property likewise;There I also descry the back of our house, in the gablesOf the roof may be seen the window of my small apartment.When I remember the time when I used to look out for the moon thereHalf through the night, or perchance at morning awaited the sunrise,When with but few hours of healthy sleep I was fully contented,Ah, how lonely do all things appear! My chamber, the court, andGarden, the beautiful field which spreads itself over the hillside;All appears but a desert to me: I still am unmarried!"Then his good mother answer'd his speech in a sensible manner"Son, your wish to be able to lead your bride to her chamber,Turning the night to the dearest and happiest half of your lifetime,Making your work by day more truly free and unfetter'd,Cannot be greater than that of your father and mother. We alwaysUrged you,--commanded, I even might say,--to choose some fair maiden.But I know full well, and my heart has told me alreadyIf the right hour arrives not, or if the right maiden appears notInstantly when they are sought for, man's choice is thrown in confusion,And he is driven by fear to seize what is counterfeit only.If I may tell you, my son, your choice already is taken,For your heart is smitten, and sensitive more than is usual.Answer me plainly, then, for my spirit already has told me:She whom now you have chosen is that poor emigrant maiden!"
So at length the children released her; but scarcely could HermannTear her from their embraces and distant-signalling kerchiefs.-----VIII. MELPOMENE. (* Characters In Mozart's Zauberflote.)And I fain would express my opinion; so when she had ended,I ask'd questions respecting the text, and who were the persons.All were silent and smiled; but presently answer'd the father'Did you e'er happen, my friend, to hear of Eve or of Adam?'Then no longer restrain'd they themselves, the girls burst out laughing,All the boys laugh'd loudly, the old man's sides appear'd splitting.In my confusion I let my hat fall down, and the titt'ringLasted all the time the singing and playing continued.Then I hasten'd home, ashamed and full of vexation,Hung up my coat in the closet, and put my hair in disorderWith my fingers, and swore ne'er again to cross o'er their threshold.And I'm sure I was right; for they are all vain and unloving.And I hear they're so rude as to give me the nickname Tamino."Then the mother rejoin'd:--"You're wrong, dear Hermann, to harbourAngry feelings against the children, for they are but children.Minnie's an excellent girl, and has a tenderness for you;Lately she ask'd how you were. Indeed, I wish you would choose her!" No longer will I guard thee from surprise;But, oh, forgive the friend who from thee turns away,
Unworthy chains? On the latch I left my doors, unfasten'd,Having first with care tried all the hinges,And rejoic'd right well to find they creak'd not. Our master dear was, after this,On Nature thinking, full of bliss,When tow'rd him, from the other sideHe saw an aged woman glide;The name she bears, Historia,Mythologia, Fabula;With footstep tottering and unstableShe dragg'd a large and wooden carved-table,Where, with wide sleeves and human mien,The Lord was catechizing seen;Adam, Eve, Eden, the Serpent's seduction,Gomorrah and Sodom's awful destruction,The twelve illustrious women, too,That mirror of honour brought to view;All kinds of bloodthirstiness, murder, and sin,The twelve wicked tyrants also were in,And all kinds of goodly doctrine and law;Saint Peter with his scourge you saw,With the world's ways dissatisfied,And by our Lord with power supplied.Her train and dress, behind and before,And e'en the seams, were painted o'erWith tales of worldly virtue and crime.--Our master view'd all this for a time;The sight right gladly he survey'd,So useful for him in his trade,Whence he was able to procureExample good and precept sure,Recounting all with truthful care,As though he had been present there.His spirit seem'd from earth to fly,He ne'er had turned away his eye,Did he not just behind him hearA rattle of bells approaching near.And now a fool doth catch his eye,With goat and ape's leap drawing nighA merry interlude preparingWith fooleries and jests unsparing.Behind him, in a line drawn out,He dragg'd all fools, the lean and stout,The great and little, the empty and full,All too witty, and all too dull,A lash he flourish'd overhead,As though a dance of apes he led,Abusing them with bitterness,As though his wrath would ne'er grow less. Awaiting a beating and scolding.But see what they're tasting: the choicest of beer!Though three times and four times they quaff the good cheer
1781.-----WINTER JOURNEY OVER THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. With thy glimmering torchLightest thou himThrough the fords when 'tis night,Over bottomless placesOn desert-like plains;With the thousand colours of morningGladd'nest his bosom;With the fierce-biting stormBearest him proudly on high;Winter torrents rush from the cliffs,--Blend with his psalms;An altar of grateful delightHe finds in the much-dreaded mountain'sSnow-begirded summit,Which foreboding nationsCrown'd with spirit-dances.