Identifier: germanclassicsof18fran (find matches)
Title: The German classics of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; masterpieces of German literature
Year: 1913 (1910s)
Authors: Francke, Kuno, 1855-1930 Howard, William Guild, b. 1868 Singer, Isidore, 1859-1939
Subjects: German literature German literature English literature
Publisher: Albany, N. Y. : J. B. Lyon company
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: Internet Archive

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
ly from flower to flower.From each and all, from every shrub and plant.Each catch-fly, harebell, and forget-me-not,I dragged the promise, and I forced the oath.That bound them never to do harm to thee.And so — the blackest elf, most bitter foeTo thee, so good and white, should vainly seekTo cut thy death-arrow!* Heinrich. What is this arrow? I know the spirit! . . . Yes, I know t! . . . There cameA spirit to me once, in priestly garb,Who, threatning, raised his hand, the while he ravedOf some such arrow that should pierce my heart.Wholl speed the arrow from his bow, I say?WTio — who will dare? Rautend. Why, no one, dearest. No one. Thourt proof against all ill, I say — thourt proof.And now, blink but thine eye, or only nod,And gentle strains shall upward float, as mist,Hem thee about, and, with a wall of music,Guard thee from call of man, and toll of bell:Yea, mock at even Lokis mischievous arts. • It was an old belief that dangerous arrows were shot down from the airby elves.
Text Appearing After Image:
Permission 7 heo. Stroefer, Niirnberg BEAR AND SPRITE THE SUNKEN BELL 183 Make the most trifling gesture with thy hand,These rocks shall turn to vaulted palace-halls,Earth-men unnumbered shall buzz round, and standReady to deck the floor, the walls, the board!Yet — since by dark, fierce foes we are beset,Wilt thou not flee into the earth with me?There we need fear no icy giants breath —There the vast halls shall shine with dazzling light-Heinrich. Peace, child. No more. What were thy feast to meSo long as solemn, mute, and incomplete,My work the hour awaits, wherein its voiceShall loudly usher in the Feast of Feasts! . . .Ill have one more good look at the great structure.So shall new fetters bind me to it fast.Take thou a torch, and light me on my way.Haste! Haste! . . . Since now I feel my name-less foesBusy at work to do me injury —Since now the fabrics menaced at the base —Tis meet the Master, too, should toil—not revel!For, should success his weary labor crown.The secre

Note About Images