Worn of battle, he relapses
    Sleepless, as in fevered trance. 
    Now he sees before him passing
    Of his life each single scene: 
    First the glow of childhood dawn,
    Bright in purest innocence,
    Then the bolder play of youth
    Trying new discovered powers,
    Till he joins the strife of men,
    Burning with an eager passion
    For the high rewards of life.—­
    To present in greater beauty
    What his inner eye beholds,
    This is all his highest purpose
    That has guided his career.

    Cold and scornful does the world
    Pile the barriers to his striving. 
    Is he near his final goal,
    Comes a thund’rous “Halt!” to meet him. 
    “Make the barrier a stepping,
    Ever higher keep your path.” 
    Thus he presses on and urges,
    Never ceasing from his aim.—­
    What he ever sought of yore
    With his spirit’s deepeth longing,
    Now he seeks in sweat of death,
    Seeks—­alas! and finds it never. 
    Though he grasps it clearer now,
    Though it grows in living form,
    He can never all achieve it,
    Nor create it in his thought. 
    Then the final blow is sounded
    From the hammer-stroke of Death,
    Breaks the earthly frame asunder,
    Seals the eye with final night. 
    But a mighty host of sounds
    Greet him from the space of heaven
    With the song he sought below: 
    Man redeemed,—­the world transfigured.

DON JUAN. (TONE POEM.)

A score or more of lines from Lenau’s poem of the same title stand as the subject of the music.

O magic realm, illimited, eternal,
Of gloried woman,—­loveliness supernal! 
Fain would I, in the storm of stressful bliss,
Expire upon the last one’s lingering kiss! 
Through every realm, O friend, would wing my flight,
Wherever Beauty blooms, kneel down to each,
And, if for one brief moment, win delight!

* * * * *

I flee from surfeit and from rapture’s cloy,
Keep fresh for Beauty service and employ,
Grieving the One, that All I may enjoy.

My lady’s charm to-day hath breath of spring,
To-morrow may the air of dungeon bring. 
When with the new love won I sweetly wander,
No bliss is ours upfurbish’d and regilded;
A different love has This to That one yonder,—­
Not up from ruins be my temple builded. 
Yea Love life is, and ever must be now,
Cannot be changed or turned in new direction;
It must expire—­here find a resurrection;
And, if ’tis real, it nothing knows of rue! 
Each Beauty in the world is sole, unique;
So must the love be that would Beauty seek! 
So long as Youth lives on with pulse afire,
Out to the chase!  To victories new aspire!

* * * * *