( 7 8 )
ALEXANDER KISFALUDY. 79
I. DAL. 7.
Mint a* szarvas, kit megeYe.
As the suffering hart confounded By the lance that tears his veins;
Flies—in vain—for he is wounded, Vainly flies to woods or plains : Since thy piercing eye look'd thro* me,
So I flee—and vainly flee;
Still thy magic barbs pursue me—
I am wounded, maid ! by thee.
And the wound but seems the stronger, As my flight is further—longer—
Smitten heart! alas ! thy pain Seeks relief or rest in vain.
80 ALEXANDER KISFALUDY.
I. DAL. 13.
Boldog vagy te, czifra madar!
THEE I envied, joyous bird!
Singing love-songs in the dell To thy mate : each note I heard
Seem'd with joy and truth to swell.
I have also songs, which sweetly Tell the tale of love—yet fall Unobserved, however meetly .
Answering beauty's fancied call.
Happy bird! that singst love's joy—
I, its sorrows, its annoy—
Would I had th' alternative, For thy song my soul to give!
ALEXANDER KISFALUDY, 8 1
I. DAL. 26.
Terra^szetnek TSltettfje.
THOU sublimest life-creator, Who didst breath and being give, Thou, all worlds' regenerator,
In and by whose life we live:
Heart-controller—thou hast chosen Thus its boiling streams to move;
Better were it chilPd and frozen, Than tormented thus by love.
O ! condemn me not, my father ! If I err—but pity rather—
As she stole my reason—she, And not I, must guilty be.
82 ALEXANDER KISFALUDY.
I. DAL. 51.
Midtfn a* Hold' vilag&bon.
OFT in fancy's rapturous noonlight Thy resplendent face I see:
Oft, when wandering 'neath the moonlight, On the waves, I welcome thee.
In my dreams I hold communion With thy bright love-laughing eyes;
Thoughts of sympathy and union From my broken heart arise.
O the blest, the heavenly greeting!
Vision fair—as fair as fleeting:
Soon the illusions all decay, As thine image glides away.
ALEXANDER KISFALUDY. 8 3
I. DAL. 57.
Gyermeks^gem' szep ideji.
SWIFT the golden moments flitted Of my childhood's blissful d a y s -Soon the smiling joys retreated,
Which o'er boyhood flung their rays.
Spring, whose footstep never lingers, Flowers upon the vernal field, All the forest's plumy singers,
All the lights that nature gild—
Will not winter's breath destroy them ? Other springs shall re-enjoy them;
Youth rekindles not its b e a m -Why do I so idly dream ?
o 2
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8 4 ALEXANDER KISFALUDY.
I. DAL. 154.
Mint tanczolt 6, av Graczia ! As the zephyrs, gay and airy,
Glance thro' nature's flowery hall;
So she glides—a graceful fairy, Thro' the mazes of the ball.
O how stately are her paces!
O how princely is her gait!
All her path is led by graces, Light and beauty on her wait And those lips that smile so brightly, And that breast that heaves so lightly ;
On how many hearts did she Fling the chains of slavery !
ALEXANDER KISFALUDV. 85
I. DAL. 172.
T£ged' latlak az Egeknek.
IN the blue horizon's beaming, Thee, sweet maid ! alone I see;
In the silver wavelets streaming, . ' Thee, sweet maiden! only thee, Thee, in day's resplendent noonlight,
Glancing from the sun afar ; Thee, in midnight's softer moonlight;
Thee, in every trembling star.
Wheresoe'er I go, I meet thee;
Wheresoever I stay, I greet thee;
Following always—everywhere : Cruel maiden ! O, forbear !
8 6 ALEXANDER K1SFALUDY.
1. DAL. 176.
SzcKd Mfesik! jtt tndom in.
MUSES! honour her—the gweeteat—
Her by smiling graces nunt;
Music! when the fair thou greetest, Greet her feirest—greet her fint.
I have seen her bright eyes glisten When the poet touch' d his chord;
Yet she will not deign to listen To mine unobtrusive word.
Maiden! wherefore so capricious ? Is the minstrel too ambitious ?
Doth his silence please thy will ? Listen, maiden! he is still.
ALEXANDER KISFALUDY. 87
II. DAL. 16.
Mas a* Vilag' abrazattya.
ALL the bright world's charms seem brighter, All the frowns of grief are gone;
Livelier beats my heart—and lighter;
Sweeter is my harp's sweet tone.
Life's fresh spring is renovated, Bliss finds wings of pride and power.
Nobler passions are, created, Being's struggles upward tower:
I, a new-born life possessing,
Lov'd and loving—bless'd and blessing—
Darkening thoughts have pass'd away, All is new delight and day.
$ 8 ALEXANDER KISFALUDY.
- II. DAL. 4 1 . Ttfle jonnek, Hozza tlroclr.
THOU of all my thoughts' vibratkms Art the origin and end;
All my spirit's agitations
From thee spring, and to thee tend.
All that fortune frees or fetters, What it builds, and what it breaks, All it banns, and all it betters,
All—from thee its image takes.
By her smile of beauty lighted, By her look of sorrow blighted,
All receives its powers from her, Love's divine interpreter.
ALEXANDER KISFALUDY. 8 9
II. DAL. 44.
Mint clozi akaratotn'.
0 HOW sweet to see thee cumbered With my happiness—to see All the little cares unnumbered,
Fond affection takes for me ! Heaven has nought to give us sweeter
Than a joy-conferring wife, And a smile of love to greet her—
. 'Tis the unclouded heav'n of life.
Like a sunbeam she enhances Love's own radiance with her glances;
And where'er the sweet one is, There is peace and there is bliss.
90 ALEXANDER KI8FALUDY.
II. DAL. 75.
Nem ki n£v£rt, dicsoslg&t.
NOT the songs to Pindus brought, By the unholy thirst for glory;
Not the songs by riches bought—
The perfidiousness of story:
No! but thai life-sparkling fountain, Springing forth from transport's soul, Up to joy's delirium mounting,
Gladdening nature's glowing whole, Winging love's cloud-piercing arrow Thro' time's boundaries, dark and narrow,
Wending tow'rds the heavens along, This—this only be my song.
ALEXANDER KISFALUDY. 01
II. DAL. 87.
Ez' 6ranak kjarttaval.
Now another century Mended With past centuries rolls away;
When another century's ended, AH that lives will be but day.
Thou and I—a pair so joyous, Spite of dance and song must die;
Time, rude tempest, will destroy us, On his death-piles shall we lie.
Dost thou mourn ? O mourn no longer!
Death is strong, but love is stronger;
And where'er we go, shall go, Sheltering us from lonely woe.
92 ALEXANDER KISFALUDY.
II. DAL. 130.
Alig n&i mag&t kOrul.
SCARCE upon the troubled ocean Doth life's steersman seek a home, Ere he feels an awful motion
Drag him downwards to the tomb.
In the very bud of being Lies the hidden seed of death;
And we feel, and hear, and see in All, perdition's withering breath.
'Tis a hasty, busy*meeting, An eternal farewell greeting,
Hurrying all our paths along Life as fugitive as song.