HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

48 l^etne^
The maids speak low: " He looks, I
ween,
As though the grave his bed had
been."
Ah no, good maids, ye should have
said:
"The grave will soon become his bed."
He lost his sweetheart — so may be
The grave is best for such as he;
There he may sleep the years away.
And rest until the Judgment Day.
ROTHSCHILD.
I have seen people, who, when they
approached the great Baron, quivered as
if experiencing a shock from a voltaic
battery. Even before the threshold of
his private room many are seized with a
shudder of veneration, such as Moses
felt on the Mount of Horeb when he
perceived that he was standing upon
holy ground. M. de Rothschild's private
room is indeed a wonderful place;
it awakens elevated thoughts and sublime
feelings, like the prospect of the
wide expanse of ocean, or of the starry
sky, or of great mountains or vast
forests: we see here how little is man,
and how great is God! For money is
the god of our time, and Rothschild is
his prophet.