"Where the nightingale doth sing Not a senseless, tranced thing, But divine melodious truth."
"Hark! ah, the nightingale— The tawny-throated! Hark from that moonlit cedar what a burst! What triumph! hark!—what pain! * * * * * * Listen, Eugenia— How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves! Again—thou hearest? Eternal passion! Eternal pain!"
"Have ye seen the ethereal blue Gently shedding silvery dew, Spangling o’er the silent green, While the nightingale, unseen, To the moon and stars, full bright, Lonesome chants the hymn of night?"
"Under der linden An der heide, Dâ unser zweier bette was, Dâ muget ir vinden Schône beide Gebrochen bluomen unde gras. Vor dem walde in einem tal, Tandaradei, Schône sanc diu nahtegal."
"Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown."
"Vox, philomela, tua cantus edicere cogit, Inde tui laudem rustica lingua canit."
"Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?"