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V.

If I him but have,[1]

If he be but mine,

If my heart, hence to the grave,

Ne’er forgets his love divine—

Know I nought of sadness,

Feel I nought but worship, love, and gladness.

[Footnote 1: Here I found the double or feminine rhyme

impossible without the loss of the far more precious

simplicity of the original, which could be retained only by

a literal translation.]

If I him but have,

Pleased from all I part;

Follow, on my pilgrim staff,

None but him, with honest heart;

Leave the rest, nought saying,

On broad, bright, and crowded highways straying.

If I him but have,

Glad to sleep I sink;

From his heart the flood he gave

Shall to mine be food and drink;

And, with sweet compelling,

Mine shall soften, deep throughout it welling.

If I him but have,

Mine the world I hail;

Happy, like a cherub grave

Holding back the Virgin’s veil:

I, deep sunk in gazing,

Hear no more the Earth or its poor praising.

Where I have but him

Is my fatherland;

Every gift a precious gem

Come to me from his own hand!

Brothers long deplored,

Lo, in his disciples, all restored!