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I know not if you are acquainted with German; but I cannot resist the desire of gratifying my own ears with a repetition of the sounds of the thrilling consonants which produced so great an effect on me on that occasion. His voice was rough and guttural: "Wann der Wein in Himmelsclang, Wandelt mein Geklimper, Sind Homer, and Ossian, Gegen mich nur Stumper."
The storm subsides, and at bar thirty-nine Senta sings to her own theme "Doch kann dem bleichen Manne Erlösung einstens noch werden, Fänd' er ein Weib, das bis in den Tod getreu ihm auf Erden." "Ach! Wann wirst du, bleicher Seemann, sie finden? Betet zum Himmel dass bald Ein Weib Treue ihm halt'!" The three themes are of very unequal power.
Of these five, "Wann die Rosen aufgeblüht" is a wonderfully fine and fiery work; "Die Stunde sei gesegnet" has one of the most beautiful endings imaginable; "Mir ist, nun ich die habe" has a deep significance in much simplicity, and its ending, by breaking the rule against consecutive octaves, attains, as rule-breakings have an unpleasant habit of doing, an excellent effect.
These early works "L'Heritiere de Birague," "Jean-Louis," "Le Centenaire," "Le Vicaire des Ardennes," "La Derniere Fee," "Wann Chlore," and others, published in 1822 and the three following years were written under the pseudonyms of Lord R'hoone, Viellergle, and Horace de Saint-Aubin, and are generally wild tales of adventure in the style of Mrs. Radcliffe.
'E sang fer t' owd schoolmaaster, look yo, an' wann schoolmaaster gaave it oop, Jimmy, 'e said 'e'd give it oop too." "But don't you think he'd sing for me, if I were to ask him?" "Yo' may aask 'im, Miss Olice, but I doan' knaw. Wann Jim Greatorex is sat, 'e's sat." "There's no harm in asking him." "Naw. Naw 'aarm there isn't," said Mrs. Gale doubtfully. "I think I'll ask him now," said Alice.
Jest make your apoalogies till 'im, an' tell 'im you had a drop too much, and you're soary for misbehavin' yerself to wann sae much your shuperrior. Tell 'im that, Ma'colm, an' there's a half-croon to ye." She wished much to speak English, and I have tried to represent the thing she did speak, which was neither honest Scotch nor anything like English.
"Ye see, Ma'colm," she said, as if pursuing instead of commencing a conversation, "he's some sore about the little fraicass between him 'an you. Jest make your apoalogies till 'im and tell 'im you had a drop too much, and your soary for misbehavin' yerself to wann sae much your shuperrior. Tell him that, Ma'colm, an' there's a half croon to ye."
Presently the Amazonian attack was renewed. "We shall go onboard," said they. "Very well," said he; "but have patience, have patience!" "No, no. Wann wird man sich einschiffen mussen?" By this time we were in the heart of the village, and surrounded with a whole lot, forty at the least, of Blankanese boatinen.
Thus we have that bad state of things described in an old-fashioned verse, which gives it as the lot of the great ones here on earth to be recognized only when they are gone: Es ist nun das Geschick der Grossen fiier auf Erden, Erst wann sie nicht mehr sind; von uns erkannt zu werden.
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