Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last. Oh! what was love made for, if 't is not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame? I know not, I ask not, if guilt 's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. Thou hast called me thy Angel in moments of bliss, And thy Angel I'll be, mid the horrors of this, Through the furnace, unshrinking, thy steps to pursue, And shield thee, and save thee, — or perish there too!
Confirmed with The World's Best Poetry, ed. by Bliss Carman, et al. Philadelphia: John D. Morris & Co., 1904; Bartleby.com, 2012. www.bartleby.com/360/2/237.html
Text Authorship:
- by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852), "Come, rest in this bosom", appears in Irish Melodies [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- [ None yet in the database ]
Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:
- Also set in Danish (Dansk), a translation by Christian Preezmann (1822 - 1893) , "Kom og hvil ved mit Bryst", appears in Digte og Sange ved Caralis, first published 1868 ; composed by Agathe Ursula Backer-Grøndahl.
- Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Julius Rodenberg (1831 - 1914) , "Komm', ruh' mir am Busen", appears in Gedichte (1864), in 3. Drittes Buch. Die Stimmen des Meeres ; composed by Gustav Bergmann.
Other available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):
- SPA Spanish (Español) (Miguel Antonio Caro) , "¡Oh, vén!", appears in Traducciones poéticas, Bogotá, Librería Americana, calle XIV, n. 77, 79, first published 1889
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2015-09-30
Line count: 12
Word count: 125
Komm', ruh' mir am Busen, mein arm' flüchtig Thier, Ob die Heerd' dich auch ließ, Deine Heimath ist hier; Hier winkt Dir ein Ort, wo kein Feind Dich mehr hetzt, Eine Hand und ein Herz, welche Dein bist zuletzt. O! was wär die Liebe, blieb sie nicht gleich warm Durch Ruhm und durch Schande, durch Lust und durch Harm? Ich weiß nicht, ich frag' nicht, ob Schuld Du Dich weißt, Ich weiß' nur, ich lieb' Dich, was immer Du seist. Du hast Deinen Engel im Glück mich genannt, Und ich bleibe Dein Engel, nun da sich's gewandt; Durch's Feuer Dir folg' ich und führ' Dich zur Ruh, Zur Ehre, zum Sieg -- oder falle wie Du!
Confirmed with Julius Rodenberg, Gedichte, Berlin: Oswald Seehagen, 1864, page 306. Appears in 3. Drittes Buch, in Die Stimmen des Meeres.
Text Authorship:
- by Julius Rodenberg (1831 - 1914), "Komm', ruh' mir am Busen", appears in Gedichte (1864), in 3. Drittes Buch. Die Stimmen des Meeres [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Based on:
- a text in English by Thomas Moore (1779 - 1852), "Come, rest in this bosom", appears in Irish Melodies
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by Gustav Bergmann (1837 - 1892), "Komm', ruh' mir am Busen", op. 31 (Acht kleine Lieder) no. 6, published 1880 [ TTBB chorus ], Zürich, Hug [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this page: Melanie Trumbull
This text was added to the website: 2021-03-26
Line count: 12
Word count: 115