Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ATTA TROLL; A SUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM: CAPUT 19, by HEINRICH HEINE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ATTA TROLL; A SUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM: CAPUT 19, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: But, resembling beauty's trefoil
Last Line: With such tenderness, herodias?
Subject(s): Laughter; Love; Marriage; Weddings; Husbands; Wives


BUT, resembling beauty's trefoil,
In the midst of the procession
Figures three I noticed; ne'er I
Can forget those lovely women.

Easily the first one knew I
By the crescent on her forehead;
Like a statue pure, all-proudly
Onward rode the mighty goddess.

High up-turn'd appear'd her tunic,
Half her breast and hip disclosing;
Torchlight, moonlight both were playing
Gaily round her snowy members.

White as marble were her features,
Cold as marble too; and fearful
Was the numbness and the paleness
Of that face, so stern and noble.

Yet within her black eye plainly
Terribly but sweetly sparkled
A mysterious, glowing fire,
Spirit-dazzling and consuming.

O, how alter'd was Diana
Who, with haughty chastity,
To a stag once turn'd Acteon,
And as prey to dogs abandon'd!

Does she expiate this crime now
Join'd to these gallant companions?
Like a wretched spectral creature
Nightly through the air she travels.

Late, indeed, but all the stronger
She to thoughts of lust awakens,
And within her eyes 'tis burning,
Like a very brand of hell.

All the lost time now laments she,
When mankind were far more handsome
And by quantity perchance she
Now makes up for quality.

Close beside her rode a beauty
Whose fair features were not chisell'd
In such Grecian mould, yet glisten'd
With the Celtic race's charms.

This one was the fay Abunde,
Whom I easily distinguish'd
By the sweetness of her smile,
And her mad and hearty laughter!

Hale and rosy were her features,
As though limn'd by Master Greuze;
Heart-shaped was her mouth, and open,
Showing teeth of dazzling whiteness.

Night-dress blue and flutt'ring wore she,
That the wind to lift attempted;
Even in my brightest visions
Never saw I such fair shoulders!

Scarcely could I keep from springing
Out of window to embrace them;
Ill should I have fared, however,
For my neck should I have broken.

She, alas! would but have titter'd
If before her feet, all-bleeding,
In the deep abyss I tumbled, --
Ah! a laugh like this well know I!

And the third of those fair women,
Who so deeply stirr'd thy bosom, --
Was she but a female devil
Like the other two first mention'd?

Whether devil she or angel,
Know I not; in case of women
One knows never where the angel
Ceases, and the deuce commences.

On her glowing sickly features
Lay an oriental charm,
And her costly robes reminded
Of Schehezerade's sweet stories.

Soft her lips, just like pomegranates,
And her nose a bending lily,
And her members cool and slender
As the palms in the oasis.

On a snowy palfrey sat she,
Whose gold bridle by two negroes
Was conducted, who on foot
By the princess' side were walking.

And in truth she was a princess,
Was the queen of far Judaea,
Was the lovely wife of Herod,
Who the Baptist's head demanded.

For this deed of blood she also
Was accurs'd, and as a spectre
With the wild hunt must keep riding,
Even to the day of judgment.

In her hands she evermore
Bears the charger with the Baptist's
Head upon it, which she kisses, --
Yes, the head she kisses wildly.

For she once loved John the Baptist;
In the Bible 'tis not written,
Yet in popular tradition
Lives Herodias' bloody love.

Otherwise there's no explaining
That strange fancy of the lady, --
Would a woman ever ask for
That man's head for whom she cared not?

She was somewhat angry, may be,
With him, -- had him, too, beheaded;
But when she upon the charger
Saw the much-loved head lie lifeless,

Sore she wept, and lost her senses,
And she died of love's delirium.
(Love's delirium! Pleonasm!
Love must always be delirium!)

Every night arising, bears she
As I've said, the bloody head
In her hand as she goes hunting,
Yet with foolish woman's fancy

She at times the head hurls from her
Through the air, with childish laughter
And then catches it again
Very nimbly, like a plaything.

And as she was riding by me,
On me look'd she, and she nodded
So coquettishly and fondly,
That my inmost heart was shaken.

Three times up and downward moving
The procession pass'd, and three times
Did the lovely apparition
Greet me, as she rode before me

When the train at last had faded,
And the tumult was extinguish'd,
Still that loving salutation
Glow'd within my inmost brain.

And throughout the livelong night
I my weary limbs kept tossing
On the straw (for feather beds
Were not in Uraca's cottage),

And methought: What meaning was there
In that strange, mysterious nodding?
Wherefore didst thou gaze upon me
With such tenderness, Herodias?





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