And as I rode by Dalton Hall, "O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, "If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me, And if thou canst that riddle read, Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed, Yet sang she, "Brignall banks are fair, "I read you, by your bugle-horn I read you for a Ranger sworn Yet sang she, "Brignall banks are fair, I would I were with Edmund there, "With burnished brand and musketoon I read you for a bold Dragoon "And O! though Brignall banks be fair, And Greta woods be gay, Yet mickle must the maiden dare 66 Would reign my Queen of May! Maiden! a nameless life I lead, A nameless death I'll die! The fiend, whose lantern lights the mead And when I'm with my comrades met, "Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, And Greta woods are green, And you may gather garlands there Sir Walter Scott ENTER THESE ENCHANTED WOODS FROM The Woods of Westermain E NTER these enchanted woods, Nothing harms beneath the leaves Foot at peace with mouse and worm, Only at a dread of dark Quaver, and they quit their form: Enter these enchanted woods, Here the snake across your path Soft as winnowing plumes of Sleep: Low to laugh from branches dim: Shudder all the haunted roods, THE TIGER George Meredith IGER, Tiger, burning bright What immortal hand or eye In what distant deeps or skies On what wings dared he aspire? And what shoulder and what art What dread hand formed thy dread feet? What the hammer, what the chain, Knit thy strength and forged thy brain? When the stars threw down their spears, Did he who made the lamb make thee? William Blake H LINES FROM The Faun IST! there's a stir in the brush. Was it a face through the leaves? Back of the laurels a skurry and rush Hillward, then silence except for the thrush That throws one song from the dark of the bush And is gone; and I plunge in the wood, and the swift soul cleaves Through the swirl and the flow of the leaves, As a swimmer stands with his white limbs bare to the sun For the space that a breath is held, and drops in the sea; And the undulant woodland folds round me, intimate, fluctant, free Like the clasp and the cling of waters, and the reach and the effort is done, There is only the glory of living, exultant to be. O goodly damp smell of the ground! O rough sweet bark of the trees! O clear sharp cracklings of sound! With the vigor of boyhood and morning, and the noon-tide's rapture of ease! Was there ever a weary heart in the world? A lag in the body's urge or a flag of the spirit's wings? Did a man's heart ever break For a lost hope's sake? For here there is lilt in the quiet and calm in the quiver of things. LOCKUNG Richard Hovey ÖRST du nicht die Bäume rauschen HÖRST Draussen durch die stille Rund'? Lockt's dich nicht, hinabzulauschen Kennst du noch die irren Lieder Wenn die Bäume traümend lauschen Joseph von Eichendorff |