died before the
music was completed. A comedy called 'Master Andrew' was successful in
a number of cities; and of his more ambitious tragedies, 'Brunhild'
and 'Sophonisba,' the latter won the famous Schiller prize in 1869.

In 1852 Geibel received an appointment as royal reader to Maximilian
II., and was made professor at the University of Munich. It was also
from the King of Bavaria that he procured his patent of nobility. In
the same year that he took up his residence in Munich he married; but
the death of his wife terminated his happy family relations three
years later, and the death of the King severed his connection with the
Bavarian court. Moreover, his sympathy with the revolutionary poets,
such as his intimate friend Freiligrath, his own enthusiasm for the
popular movement, and the faith which he placed in the King of
Prussia, led to bitter attacks upon him in the Bavarian press, and
eventually to his resignation from the faculty of the university. He
returned to his native city of Luebeck. The Prussian King trebled his
annual income, and the poet was raised above pecuniary cares. The last
years of his life were saddened, without being embittered, by feeble
health. He died on April 6th, 1884.

There was sometimes a touch of effeminate sentimentality in Geibel's
work, but he did not lack force and virility, as his famous 'Twelve
Sonnets' and his political poems, entitled 'Zeitgedichte,' show. He
could speak strong words for right and justice, and in all his poems
there is a musical beauty of language and a perfection of form that
render his songs contributions of permanent value to the lyric
treasury of German literature.

SEE'ST THOU THE SEA?

See'st thou the sea? The sun gleams on its wave
With splendor bright;
But where the pearl lies buried in its cave
Is deepest night.
The sea am I. My soul, in billows bold,
Rolls fierce and strong;
And over all, like to the sunlight's gold,
There streams my song.
It throbs with love and pain as though possessed
Of magic art,
And yet in silence bleeds, within my breast,
My gloomy heart.

Translation of Frances Hellman. Copyright 1892.

AS IT WILL HAPPEN

"He loves thee not! He trifles but with thee!"
They said to her, and then she bowed her head,
And pearly tears, like roses' dew, wept she.
Oh, that she ever trusted what they sai