To My Friend - Ode III

BE void of feeling!

A heart that soon is stirr'd,

Is a possession sad

Upon this changing earth.

Behrisch, let spring's sweet smile

Never gladden thy brow!

Then winter's gloomy tempests

Never will shadow it o'er.

Lean thyself ne'er on a maiden's

Sorrow-engendering breast.

Ne'er on the arm,

Misery-fraught, of a friend.

Already envy

From out his rocky ambush

Upon thee turns

The force of his lynx-like eyes,

Stretches his talons,

On thee falls,

In thy shoulders

Cunningly plants them.

Strong are his skinny arms,

As panther-claws;

He shaketh thee,

And rends thy frame.

Death 'tis to part,

'Tis threefold death

To part, not hoping

Ever to meet again.

Thou wouldst rejoice to leave

This hated land behind,

Wert thou not chain'd to me

With friendships flowery chains.

Burst them! I'll not repine.

No noble friend

Would stay his fellow-captive,

If means of flight appear.

The remembrance

Of his dear friend's freedom

Gives him freedom

In his dungeon.

Thou go'st,—I'm left.

But e'en already

The last year's winged spokes

Whirl round the smoking axle.

I number the turns

Of the thundering wheel;

The last one I bless.—

Each bar then is broken, I'm free then as thou!