NEW YEAR'S
Lake Uri unites with Lake Lucerne. Each lake is surrounded with simple chapels, the bells in whose white towers were once rung during storms, in the belief that the music would dissipate them. Over both lakes rises Mt. Pilatus, dark and cloudy, on whose
summit, Pontius Pilate, according to tradition, met his fate by throwing himself into one of the lakes in the region of the clouds.
Fraulein, how light the boatmen row!
Lucerna's deeps lie still;
And Uri's bells ring sweet and low
From distant hill to hill.
I love the calm, still lake, Fraulein,
The songs the boatmen sing,
But drop a tear whene'er I hear
The bells of Uri ring.
Gretchen, Gretchen, lift thy eyes,
The sun of night how fair!
How grandly Pilate's peaks arise
In yon celestial air!
I love Lucerna's placid ways,
The songs her boatmen sing;
And my heart beats light to hear at night
The bells of Uri ring.
Fraulein, the scenes of other years
My shadowy memory fill:
Those bells no more my father hears;
The world for him is still.
And ever on such eves as this
My thoughts will backward wing;
And falls the tear whene'er I hear
The bells of Uri ring.
The moon in still Lucerna lies;
And see, my little maid,
How fair the crystal peaks arise
Above the Righi's shade!
The young bird seeks its nest no more
When summer plumes its wing;
And long, as they have done before,
Shall Uri's sweet bells ring.
Fraulein, my mother once was young,
Like mine her heart was gay;
For her the bridal songs were sung
On yonder hill's chalet.
For her, Fraulein, will come no more
The year's returning spring;
She'll never walk with me the shore
When Uri's sweet bells ring!
Gretchen, Gretchen, think no more
On that forgotten clay;
When birds above the valley soar
Their shadows flee away.
Lay gently on the old year's graves
The Edelweiss each spring;
And smile, my dear, whene'er you hear
The bells of Uri ring!
Fraulein, the bright days disappear;
One day will come the spring;
Nor you nor I again will hear
The bells of Uri ring.
Then chide me not if stormless hours
Like these a sadness bring,
And falls the tear whene'er I hear
The bells of Uri ring.
Ah, Gretchen, when Death's mystic night
To thee shall angels bear,
And thou with them shaft plume thy flight
Through life's immortal air;
When yon fair lake for thee is still,
And other boatmen sing,
Thou 'It shed no tear that others hear
The bells of Uri ring!