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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/1287.txt b/1287.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3f8b23d --- /dev/null +++ b/1287.txt @@ -0,0 +1,21372 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Poems of Goethe, Bowring, Tr. +#1 in our series by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +The Poems of Goethe + +Translated in the original metres +by Edgar Alfred Bowring + + + + +THE TRANSLATOR'S ORIGINAL DEDICATION. + +TO THE COUNTESS GRANVILLE. + +MY DEAR LADY GRANVILLE,-- + +THE reluctance which must naturally be felt by any one in +venturing to give to the world a book such as the present, where +the beauties of the great original must inevitably be diminished, +if not destroyed, in the process of passing through the +translator's hands, cannot but be felt in all its force when that +translator has not penetrated beyond the outer courts of the +poetic fane, and can have no hope of advancing further, or of +reaching its sanctuary. But it is to me a subject of peculiar +satisfaction that your kind permission to have your name +inscribed upon this page serves to attain a twofold end--one +direct and personal, and relating to the present day; the other +reflected and historical, and belonging to times long gone by. Of +the first little need now be said, for the privilege is wholly +mine, in making this dedication: as to the second, one word of +explanation will suffice for those who have made the greatest +poet of Germany, almost of the world, their study, and to whom +the story of his life is not unknown. All who have followed the +career of GOETHE are familiar with the name and character of +DALBERG, and also with the deep and lasting friendship that +existed between them, from which SCHILLER too was not absent; +recalling to the mind the days of old, when a Virgil and a Horace +and a Maecenas sat side by side. + +Remembering, then, the connection that, in a former century, +was formed and riveted between your illustrious ancestor and him +whom it is the object of these pages to represent, I deem it a +happy augury that the link then established finds itself not +wholly severed even now (although its strength may be +immeasurably weakened in the comparison), inasmuch as this page +brings them once more in contact, the one in the person of his +own descendant, the other in that of the translator of his Poems. + +Believe me, with great truth, +Very faithfully yours, +EDGAR A. BOWRING. +London, April, 1853. + + + +ORIGINAL PREFACE. + + +I feel no small reluctance in venturing to give to the public a +work of the character of that indicated by the title-page to the +present volume; for, difficult as it must always be to render +satisfactorily into one's own tongue the writings of the bards of +other lands, the responsibility assumed by the translator is +immeasurably increased when he attempts to transfer the thoughts +of those great men, who have lived for all the world and for all +ages, from the language in which they were originally clothed, to +one to which they may as yet have been strangers. Preeminently +is this the case with Goethe, the most masterly of all the master +minds of modern times, whose name is already inscribed on the +tablets of immortality, and whose fame already extends over the +earth, although as yet only in its infancy. Scarcely have two +decades passed away since he ceased to dwell among men, yet he +now stands before us, not as a mere individual, like those whom +the world is wont to call great, but as a type, as an emblem--the +recognised emblem and representative of the human mind in its +present stage of culture and advancement. + +Among the infinitely varied effusions of Goethe's pen, perhaps +there are none which are of as general interest as his Poems, +which breathe the very spirit of Nature, and embody the real +music of the feelings. In Germany, they are universally known, +and are considered as the most delightful of his works. Yet in +this country, this kindred country, sprung from the same stem, +and so strongly resembling her sister in so many points, they are +nearly unknown. Almost the only poetical work of the greatest +Poet that the world has seen for ages, that is really and +generally read in England, is Faust, the translations of which +are almost endless; while no single person has as yet appeared to +attempt to give, in an English dress, in any collective or +systematic manner, those smaller productions of the genius of +Goethe which it is the object of the present volume to lay before +the reader, whose indulgence is requested for its many +imperfections. In addition to the beauty of the language in which +the Poet has given utterance to his thoughts, there is a depth of +meaning in those thoughts which is not easily discoverable at +first sight, and the translator incurs great risk of overlooking +it, and of giving a prosaic effect to that which in the original +contains the very essence of poetry. It is probably this +difficulty that has deterred others from undertaking the task I +have set myself, and in which I do not pretend to do more than +attempt to give an idea of the minstrelsy of one so unrivalled, +by as truthful an interpretation of it as lies in my power. + +The principles which have guided me on the present occasion are +the same as those followed in the translation of Schiller's +complete Poems that was published by me in 1851, namely, as +literal a rendering of the original as is consistent with good +English, and also a very strict adherence to the metre of the +original. Although translators usually allow themselves great +license in both these points, it appears to me that by so doing +they of necessity destroy the very soul of the work they profess +to translate. In fact, it is not a translation, but a paraphrase +that they give. It may perhaps be thought that the present +translations go almost to the other extreme, and that a rendering +of metre, line for line, and word for word, makes it impossible +to preserve the poetry of the original both in substance and in +sound. But experience has convinced me that it is not so, and +that great fidelity is even the most essential element of +success, whether in translating poetry or prose. It was therefore +very satisfactory to me to find that the principle laid down by +me to myself in translating Schiller met with the very general, +if not universal, approval of the reader. At the same time, I +have endeavoured to profit in the case of this, the younger born +of the two attempts made by me to transplant the muse of Germany +to the shores of Britain, by the criticisms, whether friendly or +hostile, that have been evoked or provoked by the appearance of +its elder brother. + +As already mentioned, the latter contained the whole of the +Poems of Schiller. It is impossible, in anything like the same +compass, to give all the writings of Goethe comprised under the +general title of Gedichte, or poems. They contain between 30,000 +and 40,000 verses, exclusive of his plays. and similar works. +Very many of these would be absolutely without interest to the +English reader,--such as those having only a local application, +those addressed to individuals, and so on. Others again, from +their extreme length, could only be published in separate +volumes. But the impossibility of giving all need form no +obstacle to giving as much as possible; and it so happens that +the real interest of Goethe's Poems centres in those classes of +them which are not too diffuse to run any risk when translated of +offending the reader by their too great number. Those by far the +more generally admired are the Songs and Ballads, which are about +150 in number, and the whole of which are contained in this +volume (with the exception of one or two of the former, which +have been, on consideration, left out by me owing to their +trifling and uninteresting nature). The same may be said of the +Odes, Sonnets, Miscellaneous Poems, &c. + +In addition to those portions of Goethe's poetical works which +are given in this complete form, specimens of the different other +classes of them, such as the Epigrams, Elegies, &c., are added, +as well as a collection of the various Songs found in his Plays, +making a total number of about 400 Poems, embraced in the present +volume. + +A sketch of the life of Goethe is prefixed, in order that the +reader may have before him both the Poet himself and the Poet's +offspring, and that he may see that the two are but one--that +Goethe lives in his works, that his works lived in him. + +The dates of the different Poems are appended throughout, that +of the first publication being given, when that of the +composition is unknown. The order of arrangement adopted is that +of the authorized German editions. As Goethe would never arrange +them himself in the chronological order of their composition, it +has become impossible to do so, now that he is dead. The plan +adopted in the present volume would therefore seem to be the +best, as it facilitates reference to the original. The +circumstances attending or giving rise to the production of any +of the Poems will be found specified in those cases in which they +have been ascertained by me. + +Having said thus much by way of explanation, I now leave the +book to speak for itself, and to testify to its own character. +Whether viewed with a charitable eye by the kindly reader, who +will make due allowance for the difficulties attending its +execution, or received by the critic, who will judge of it only +by its own merits, with the unfriendly welcome which it very +probably deserves, I trust that I shall at least be pardoned for +making an attempt, a failure in which does not necessarily imply +disgrace, and which, by leading the way, may perhaps become the +means of inducing some abler and more worthy (but not more +earnest) labourer to enter upon the same field, the riches of +which will remain unaltered and undiminished in value, even +although they may be for the moment tarnished by the hands of the +less skilful workman who first endeavours to transplant them to a +foreign soil. + + +PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. + + +I have taken advantage of the publication of a Second Edition +of my translation of the Poems of Goethe (originally published in +1853), to add to the Collection a version of the much admired +classical Poem of Hermann and Dorothea, which was previously +omitted by me in consequence of its length. Its universal +popularity, however, and the fact that it exhibits the +versatility of Goethe's talents to a greater extent than, +perhaps, any other of his poetical works, seem to call for its +admission into the present volume. + +On the other hand I have not thought it necessary to include +the sketch of Goethe's Life that accompanied the First Edition. +At the time of its publication, comparatively little was known in +this country of the incidents of his career, and my sketch was +avowedly written as a temporary stop-gap, as it were, pending the +production of some work really deserving the tittle of a life of +Goethe. Not to mention other contributions to the literature of +the subject, Mr. Lewis's important volumes give the English +reader all the information he is likely to require respecting +Goethe's career, and my short memoir appeared to be no longer +required. + +I need scarcely add that I have availed myself of this +opportunity to make whatever improvements have suggested +themselves to me in my original version of these Poems. + +E. A. B. +London, 1874. + + +CONTENTS. + +Original Dedication +Original Preface +Preface to the Second Edition +List of the principal Works of Goethe +Author's Dedication + +SONGS +Sound, sweet Song, from some far Land +To the kind Reader +The New Amadis +When the Fox dies, his Skin counts +The Heathrose +Blindman's Buff +Christel +The Coy One +The Convert +Preservation +The Muses' Son +Found +Like and Like +Reciprocal Invitation to the Dance +Self-Deceit +Declaration of War +Lover in all Shapes +The Goldsmith's Apprentice +Answers in a Game of Questions +Different Emotions on the same Spot +Who'll buy Gods of love? +The Misanthrope +Different Threats +Maiden Wishes +Motives +True Enjoyment +The Farewell +The Beautiful Night. +Happiness and Vision +Living Remembrance +The Bliss of Absence +To Luna +The Wedding Night +Mischievous Joy +Apparent Death +November Song +To the Chosen One +First Loss +After Sensations +Proximity of the Beloved One +Presence +To the Distant One +By the River +Farewell +The Exchange +Welcome and Farewell +New Love, New Life +To Belinda +May Song +With a painted Ribbon +With a golden Necklace +On the Lake +From the Mountain +Flower-Salute +In Summer +May Song +Premature Spring +Autumn Feelings +Restless Love +The Shepherd's Lament +Comfort in Tears +Night Song +Longing +To Mignon +The Mountain Castle +The Spirit's Salute +To a Golden Heart that he wore round his neck +The Bliss of Sorrow +The Wanderer's Night-song +The Same +The Hunter's Even-Song +To the Moon +To Lina +Ever and Everywhere +Petition +To his Coy One +Night Thoughts +To Lida +Proximity +Reciprocal +Rollicking Hans +The Freebooter +Joy and Sorrow +March +April +May +June +Next Year's Spring +At Midnight Hour +To the rising full Moon +The Bridegroom +Such, such is he who pleaseth me +Sicilian Song +Swiss Song +Finnish Song +Gipsy Song +The Destruction of Magdeburg + +FAMILIAR SONGS. +On the New Year +Anniversary Song +The Spring Oracle +The Happy Couple +Song of Fellowship +Constancy in Change +Table Song +Wont and Done +General Confession +Coptic Song +Another +Vanitas! vanitatum vanitas! +Fortune of War +Open Table +The Reckoning +Ergo Bibamus! +Epiphanias + +BALLADS. +Mignon +The Minstrel +Ballad of the banished and returning Count +The Violet +The Faithless Boy +The Erl-King +Johanna Sebus +The Fisherman +The King of Thule +The Beauteous Flower.. +Sir Curt's Wedding Journey +Wedding Song +The Treasure-digger +The Rat-catcher +The Spinner +Before a Court of Justice +The Page and the Miller's Daughter +The Youth and the Millstream +The Maid of the Mill's Treachery +The Maid of the Mill's Repentance +The Traveller and the Farm-Maiden +Effects at a distance +The Walking Bell +Faithful Eckart +The Dance of Death +The Pupil in Magic +The Bride of Corinth +The God and the Bayadere + +The Pariah + +I. The Pariah's Prayer. + II. Legend +III. The Pariah's Thanks +Death--lament of the noble Wife of Asan Aga + +CANTATAS. +Idyll +Rinaldo +The First Walpurgis-Night + +ODES. +Three Odes to my Friend +Mahomet's Song +Spirit Song over the Waters +My Goddess +Winter Journey over the Hartz Mountains +To Father Kronos. Written in a Post-chaise +The Wanderer's Storm Song +The Sea-Voyage +The Eagle and Dove +Prometheus +Ganymede +The Boundaries of Humanity +The Godlike + +MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. +The German Parnassus. +Lily's Menagerie +To Charlotte +Love's Distresses +The Musagetes +Morning Lament +The Visit +The Magic Net +The Goblet +To the Grasshopper. After Anacreon +From the Sorrows of Young Werther +Trilogy of Passion :Ä + + I. To Werther + +II. Elegy + III. Atonement +The Remembrance of the Good +When I was still a youthful Wight +For Ever +From an Album of 1604 +Lines on seeing Schiller's Skull +Royal Prayer +Human Feelings +On the Divan +Hans Sachs' Poetical Mission + +SONNETS. +The Friendly Meeting +In a Word +The Maiden Speaks +Growth +Food in Travel +Departure +The Loving One Writes. +The Loving One once more +She Cannot End +Nemesis +The Christmas Box +The Warning +The Epochs +The Doubters and the Lovers +Charade + +EPIGRAMS. +To Originals +The Soldier's Consolation +Genial Impulse +Neither this nor that +The way to behave +The best +As broad as it's long +The Rule of Life +The same, expanded +Calm at Sea +The Prosperous Voyage +Courage +My only Property +Admonition +Old Age +Epitaph +Rules for Monarchs +Paulo post futuri +The Fool's Epilogue + +PARABLES. +Joy +Explanation of an antique Gem +Cat-Pie +Legend +Authors +The Critic +The Dilettante and the Critic +The Wrangler +The Yelpers +The Stork's Vocation +Celebrity +Playing at Priests +Songs +Poetry +A Parable +Should e'er the loveless day remain +A Plan the Muses entertained +The Death of the Fly +By the River +The Fox and Crane +The Fox and Huntsman +The Frogs +The Wedding +Burial +Threatening Signs +The Buyers +The Mountain Village +Symbols +Three Palinodias :-- + + I. The Smoke that from thine Altar blows. + +II. Conflict of Wit and Beauty + III. Rain and Rainbow. +Valediction +The Country Schoolmaster +The Legend of the Horseshoe +A Symbol + +ART. +The Drops of Nectar +The Wanderer +I Love as a Landscape Painter + +GOD, SOUL, AND WORLD. +Rhymed Distichs +Prooemion +The Metamorphosis of Plants + +PROVERBS +TAME XENIA + +RELIGION AND CHURCH. +Thoughts on Jesus Christ's descent into Hell + +ANTIQUES. +Leopold, Duke of Brunswick +To the Husbandman +Anacreon's Grave +The Brethren +Measure of Time +Warning +Solitude +The Chosen Cliff +The Consecrated Spot +The Instructors +The Unequal Marriage. +Excuse +Sakontala +The Muse's Mirror +Phoebus and Hermes +The New Amor +The Garlands +The Swiss Alps +Distichs + +VENETIAN EPIGRAMS. + +ELEGIES. +Roman Elegies +Alexis and Dora +Hermann and Dorothea + +WEST-EASTERN DIVAN. + + I. Minstrel's Book :-- + +Talismans +The Four Favours +Discord +Song and Structure + + +II. Book of Hafis :-- +The Unlimited +To Hafis + + + III. Book of Love :-- + +The Types +One Pair More +Love's Torments + + +IV. Book of Contemplation :-- + +Five Things +For Woman +Firdusi +Suleika + + + V. Book of Gloom :-- +It is a Fault + + +VI. Book of Proverbs + + + VII. Book of Timur :-- + +The Winter and Timur +To Suleika + + +VIII. Book of Suleika :-- + +Suleika's Love +Hatem +Suleika +Love for Love +Hatem +The Loving One speaks +The Loving One again +These tufted Branches fair +Suleika +The Sublime Type +Suleika +The Reunion +Suleika +In thousand forms + + +IX. The Convivial Book :-- + +Can the Koran from Eternity be? +Ye've often for our Drunkenness + + X. Book of Parables :-- + +From Heaven there fell upon the foaming wave +Bulbul's Song +In the Koran with strange delight. +All kinds of Men. +It is good + + +XI. Book of the Parsees :-- + +The Bequest of the ancient Persian faith + + + XII. Book of Paradise: +The Privileged Men +The favoured Beasts +The Seven Sleepers + +SONGS FROM VARIOUS PLAYS, ETC. +From Faust :-- + +Dedication + +Prologue in Heaven + +Chorus of Angels + +Chorus of Spirits + +Margaret at her Spinning Wheel + +Garden Scene + +Margaret's Song +From FaustÄPart II.:-- + +Ariel's Song and Chorus of Spirits + +Scene the last +From Iphigenia in Tauris :-- + +Song of the Fates +From Gotz von Berlichingen :-- + +Liebetraut's Song +From Egmont :-- + +Clara and Brackenburg's Song + +Clara's Song +From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship :-- + +Who never eat with tears his bread + +Who gives himself to Solitude + +My Grief no Mortals know + +Sing no more in mournful tones + +Epilogue to Schiller's Song of the Bell + +L'ENVOI + +LIST OF THE PRINCIPAL WORKS OF GOETHE, WITH THE DATES OF THEIR +COMPOSITION. + +I. DRAMATIC WORKS. + +TITLE AND DESCRIPTION. DATE, +The Lover's Whim, Pastoral Drama.................. 1767Ä8 +The Accomplices, Comedy........................... 1769 +Satyros, or the Deified Satyr, Drama.............. 1774 +Plundersweilern Fair, Puppet-show................. 1774 +Prometheus, Dramatic fragment..................... 1773 +Faust. Part I. Tragedy............................ 1773Ä1806 + + Part II. Tragedy completed in.............. 1831 +Elpenor, a Fragment, Tragedy...................... 1781Ä3 +Iphigenia auf Tauris, Classical drama............. 1786Ä7 +Torquato Tasso, Classical drama................... 1787Ä9 +The Natural Daughter, Tragedy..................... 1799Ä1803 +Gotz von Berlichingen, Prose drama................ 1773 +Egmont, Tragedy................................... 1775Ä87 +Clavigo, Tragedy.................................. 1774 +Stella, Tragedy................................... 1774 +The Brother and Sister, Prose drama............... 1776 +The Wager, Comedy................................. 1812 +The Gross-Cophta, Comedy.......................... 1789 +The Burgher-General, Comedy....................... 1793 +The Rebels, Political drama....................... 1793 +The Triumph of Sensibility, Dramatic whim......... 1777 +The Birds, after Aristophanes, Comedy............. 1780 +Erwin and Elmire, Melodrama....................... 1775Ä88 +Claudine von Villa Bella, Melodrama............... 1775Ä88 +Jery and Bately, Melodrama........................ 1779 +Lila, Melodrama................................... 1777Ä8 +The Fisher-Girl, Melodrama........................ 1782 +Sport. Cunning, and Revenge, Opera Buffa.......... 1785 +What we're bringing, Prelude...................... 1802 +Pandora, Drama.................................... 1807Ä8 + +In addition to the above, there are nearly 20 minor dramatic +pieces. + +II. PROSE WORKS. + +TITLE DATE, + +ROMANCES AND NOVELS:-- + + Sorrows of Werther............................. 1774 + + The Elective Affinities........................ 1809 + + Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship............... 1777Ä96 + + Wilhelm Meister's Wanderings................... 1807Ä29 + + Conversations of German Emigrants.............. 1793Ä5 +Notes on Winckelmann.............................. 1805 +Life of Philip Hackert............................ 1810-11 +Life of Benvenuto Cellini (Translation)........... 1796Ä1803 +Autobiography..................................... 1811Ä31 +Letters from Switzerland.......................... 1775Ä1808 +Tour in Italy..................................... 1786-1817 +French Campaign................................... 1792Ä1822 +Annals............................................ 1819-25 +Art and Antiquity................................. 1815Ä28 +Theory of Colours................................. 1790-1810 + +In addition to the above, Goethe produced an almost endless +number of translations, criticisms, essays, &c. + +III. POETICAL WORKS. + +Other than those embraced in the plan of the present volume. + +TITLE DATE, +Masonic Songs (7)................................. 1815Ä30 +Poems on Pictures (21)............................ 1819, &c. +Invectives (44)................................... 1802Ä24 +Political poems (54).............................. 1814, &c. +Masques (14)...................................... 1776-1818 +Poems in the name of the citizens of Carlsbad (7). 1810Ä12 +Poems on Individuals, &c. (209)................... 1778Ä1831 +Chinese-German Poems (14)......................... 1827 +Prophecies of Bakis (33).......................... 1798 +The Four Seasons (99)............................. 1796 +Epistles (3)...................................... 1794 +Achilleis--Canto I................................ 1798Ä9 +Reineke Fuchs..................................... 1793 + +Theatrical Prologues and Epilogues (12, including + + the Epilogue to the Song of the Bell, given in + + this volume)................................... 1782Ä1821 + + + + +THE POEMS OF GOETHE. + +DEDICATION. + +The morn arrived; his footstep quickly scared + +The gentle sleep that round my senses clung, +And I, awak'ning, from my cottage fared, + +And up the mountain side with light heart sprung; +At every step I felt my gaze ensnared + +By new-born flow'rs that full of dew-drops hung; +The youthful day awoke with ecstacy, +And all things quicken'd were, to quicken me. + +And as I mounted, from the valley rose + +A streaky mist, that upward slowly spread, +Then bent, as though my form it would enclose, + +Then, as on pinions, soar'd above my head: +My gaze could now on no fair view repose, + +in mournful veil conceal'd, the world seem'd dead; +The clouds soon closed around me, as a tomb, +And I was left alone in twilight gloom. + +At once the sun his lustre seem'd to pour, + +And through the mist was seen a radiant light; +Here sank it gently to the ground once more, + +There parted it, and climb'd o'er wood and height. +How did I yearn to greet him as of yore, + +After the darkness waxing doubly bright! +The airy conflict ofttimes was renew'd, +Then blinded by a dazzling glow I stood. + +Ere long an inward impulse prompted me + +A hasty glance with boldness round to throw; +At first mine eyes had scarcely strength to see, + +For all around appear'd to burn and glow. +Then saw I, on the clouds borne gracefully, + +A godlike woman hov'ring to and fro. +In life I ne'er had seen a form so fair-- +She gazed at me, and still she hover'd there. + +"Dost thou not know me?" were the words she said + +In tones where love and faith were sweetly bound; +"Knowest thou not Her who oftentimes hath shed + +The purest balsam in each earthly wound? +Thou knows't me well; thy panting heart I led + +To join me in a bond with rapture crown'd. +Did I not see thee, when a stripling, yearning +To welcome me with tears, heartfelt and burning?" + +"Yes!" I exclaim'd, whilst, overcome with joy, + +I sank to earth; "I long have worshipp'd thee; +Thou gav'st me rest, when passions rack'd the boy, + +Pervading ev'ry limb unceasingly; +Thy heav'nly pinions thou didst then employ + +The scorching sunbeams to ward off from me. +From thee alone Earth's fairest gifts I gain'd, +Through thee alone, true bliss can be obtain'd. + +"Thy name I know not; yet I hear thee nam'd + +By many a one who boasts thee as his own; +Each eye believes that tow'rd thy form 'tis aim'd, + +Yet to most eyes thy rays are anguish-sown. +Ah! whilst I err'd, full many a friend I claim'd, + +Now that I know thee, I am left alone; +With but myself can I my rapture share, +I needs must veil and hide thy radiance fair. + +She smiled, and answering said: "Thou see'st how wise, + +How prudent 'twas but little to unveil! +Scarce from the clumsiest cheat are clear'd thine eyes, + +Scarce hast thou strength thy childish bars to scale, +When thou dost rank thee 'mongst the deities, + +And so man's duties to perform would'st fail! +How dost thou differ from all other men? +Live with the world in peace, and know thee then!" + +"Oh, pardon me," I cried, "I meant it well: + +Not vainly did'st thou bless mine eyes with light; +For in my blood glad aspirations swell, + +The value of thy gifts I know aright! +Those treasures in my breast for others dwell, + +The buried pound no more I'll hide from sight. +Why did I seek the road so anxiously, +If hidden from my brethren 'twere to be?" + +And as I answer'd, tow'rd me turn'd her face, + +With kindly sympathy, that god-like one; +Within her eye full plainly could I trace + +What I had fail'd in, and what rightly done. +She smiled, and cured me with that smile's sweet grace, + +To new-born joys my spirit soar'd anon; +With inward confidence I now could dare +To draw yet closer, and observe her there. + +Through the light cloud she then stretch'd forth her hand, + +As if to bid the streaky vapour fly: +At once it seemed to yield to her command, + +Contracted, and no mist then met mine eye. +My glance once more survey'd the smiling land, + +Unclouded and serene appear'd the sky. +Nought but a veil of purest white she held, +And round her in a thousand folds it swell'd. + +"I know thee, and I know thy wav'ring will. + +I know the good that lives and glows in thee!"-- +Thus spake she, and methinks I hear her still-- + +"The prize long destined, now receive from me; +That blest one will be safe from ev'ry ill, + +Who takes this gift with soul of purity,--" +The veil of Minstrelsy from Truth's own hand, +Of sunlight and of morn's sweet fragrance plann'd. + +"And when thou and thy friends at fierce noon-day + +Are parched with heat, straight cast it in the air! +Then Zephyr's cooling breath will round you play, + +Distilling balm and flowers' sweet incense there; +The tones of earthly woe will die away, + +The grave become a bed of clouds so fair, +To sing to rest life's billows will be seen, +The day be lovely, and the night serene."-- + +Come, then, my friends! and whensoe'er ye find + +Upon your way increase life's heavy load; +If by fresh-waken'd blessings flowers are twin'd + +Around your path, and golden fruits bestow'd, +We'll seek the coming day with joyous mind! + +Thus blest, we'll live, thus wander on our road +And when our grandsons sorrow o'er our tomb, +Our love, to glad their bosoms, still shall bloom. + +SONGS. +----- +Late resounds the early strain; +Weal and woe in song remain. +----- +SOUND, SWEET SONG. + +SOUND, sweet song, from some far land, +Sighing softly close at hand, + +Now of joy, and now of woe! + +Stars are wont to glimmer so. + +Sooner thus will good unfold; +Children young and children old +Gladly hear thy numbers flow. + + 1820.* +----- + +* In the cases in which the date is marked thus (*), it +signifies the original date of publication--the year of +composition not being known. In other cases, the date given is +that of the actual composition. All the poems are arranged in the +order of the recognised German editions. +----- +TO THE KIND READER. + +No one talks more than a Poet; +Fain he'd have the people know it. + +Praise or blame he ever loves; +None in prose confess an error, +Yet we do so, void of terror, + +In the Muses' silent groves. + +What I err'd in, what corrected, +What I suffer'd, what effected, + +To this wreath as flow'rs belong; +For the aged, and the youthful, +And the vicious, and the truthful, + +All are fair when viewed in song. + + 1800.* +----- +THE NEW AMADIS. + +IN my boyhood's days so drear + +I was kept confined; +There I sat for many a year, + +All alone I pined, +As within the womb. + +Yet thou drov'st away my gloom, + +Golden phantasy! +I became a hero true, + +Like the Prince Pipi, +And the world roam'd through, + +Many a crystal palace built, + +Crush'd them with like art, +And the Dragon's life-blood spilt + +With my glitt'ring dart. +Yes! I was a man! + +Next I formed the knightly plan + +Princess Fish to free; +She was much too complaisant, + +Kindly welcomed me,-- +And I was gallant. + +Heav'nly bread her kisses proved, + +Glowing as the wine; +Almost unto death I loved. + +Sun-s appeared to shine +In her dazzling charms. + +Who hath torn her from mine arms? + +Could no magic band +Make her in her flight delay? + +Say, where now her land? +Where, alas, the way? + + 1775.* +----- +WHEN THE FOX DIES, HIS SKIN COUNTS.* + +(* The name of a game, known in English as "Jack's alight.") + +WE young people in the shade + +Sat one sultry day; +Cupid came, and "Dies the Fox" + +With us sought to play. + +Each one of my friends then sat + +By his mistress dear; +Cupid, blowing out the torch, + +Said: "The taper's here!" + +Then we quickly sent around + +The expiring brand; +Each one put it hastily + +ln his neighbour's hand. + +Dorilis then gave it me, + +With a scoffing jest; +Sudden into flame it broke, + +By my fingers press'd. + +And it singed my eyes and face, + +Set my breast on fire; +Then above my head the blaze + +Mounted ever higher. + +Vain I sought to put it out; + +Ever burned the flame; +Stead of dying, soon the Fox + +Livelier still became. + + 1770. +----- +THE HEATHROSE. + +ONCE a boy a Rosebud spied, + +Heathrose fair and tender, +All array'd in youthful pride,-- +Quickly to the spot he hied, + +Ravished by her splendour. +Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, + +Heathrose fair and tender! + +Said the boy, "I'll now pick thee, + +Heathrose fair and tender!" +Said the rosebud, "I'll prick thee, +So that thou'lt remember me, + +Ne'er will I surrender!" +Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, + +Heathrose fair and tender! + +Now the cruel boy must pick + +Heathrose fair and tender; +Rosebud did her best to prick,-- +Vain 'twas 'gainst her fate to kick-- + +She must needs surrender. +Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, + +Heathrose fair and tender! + + 1779.* +----- +BLINDMAN'S BUFF. + +OH, my Theresa dear! +Thine eyes, I greatly fear, + +Can through the bandage see! +Although thine eyes are bound, +By thee I'm quickly found, + +And wherefore shouldst thou catch but me? + +Ere long thou held'st me fast, +With arms around me cast, + +Upon thy breast I fell; +Scarce was thy bandage gone, +When all my joy was flown, + +Thou coldly didst the blind repel. + +He groped on ev'ry side, +His limbs he sorely tried, + +While scoffs arose all round; +If thou no love wilt give, +In sadness I shall live, + +As if mine eyes remain'd still bound. + + 1770. +----- +CHRISTEL. + +My senses ofttimes are oppress'd, + +Oft stagnant is my blood; +But when by Christel's sight I'm blest, + +I feel my strength renew'd. +I see her here, I see her there, + +And really cannot tell +The manner how, the when, the where, + +The why I love her well. + +If with the merest glance I view + +Her black and roguish eyes, +And gaze on her black eyebrows too, + +My spirit upward flies. +Has any one a mouth so sweet, + +Such love-round cheeks as she? +Ah, when the eye her beauties meet, + +It ne'er content can be. + +And when in airy German dance + +I clasp her form divine, +So quick we whirl, so quick advance, + +What rapture then like mine! +And when she's giddy, and feels warm, + +I cradle her, poor thing, +Upon my breast, and in mine arm,-- + +I'm then a very king! + +And when she looks with love on me, + +Forgetting all but this, +When press'd against my bosom, she + +Exchanges kiss for kiss, +All through my marrow runs a thrill, + +Runs e'en my foot along! +I feel so well, I feel so ill, + +I feel so weak, so strong! + +Would that such moments ne'er would end! + +The day ne'er long I find; +Could I the night too with her spend, + +E'en that I should not mind. +If she were in mine arms but held, + +To quench love's thirst I'd try; +And could my torments not be quell'd, + +Upon her breast would die. + + 1776.* +------ +THE COY ONE. + +ONE Spring-morning bright and fair, + +Roam'd a shepherdess and sang; +Young and beauteous, free from care, + +Through the fields her clear notes rang: +So, Ia, Ia! le ralla, &c. + +Of his lambs some two or three + +Thyrsis offer'd for a kiss; +First she eyed him roguishly, + +Then for answer sang but this: +So, Ia, Ia! le ralla, &c. + +Ribbons did the next one offer, + +And the third, his heart so true +But, as with the lambs, the scoffer + +Laugh'd at heart and ribbons too,-- +Still 'twas Ia! le ralla, &c. + + 1791. +----- +THE CONVERT. + +As at sunset I was straying + +Silently the wood along, +Damon on his flute was playing, + +And the rocks gave back the song, +So la, Ia! &c. + +Softly tow'rds him then he drew me; + +Sweet each kiss he gave me then! +And I said, "Play once more to me!" + +And he kindly play'd again, +So la, la! &c. + +All my peace for aye has fleeted, + +All my happiness has flown; +Yet my ears are ever greeted + +With that olden, blissful tone, +So la, la! &c. + + 1791. +----- +PRESERVATION. + +My maiden she proved false to me; + +To hate all joys I soon began, + +Then to a flowing stream I ran,-- +The stream ran past me hastily. + +There stood I fix'd, in mute despair; + +My head swam round as in a dream; + +I well-nigh fell into the stream, +And earth seem'd with me whirling there. + +Sudden I heard a voice that cried-- + +I had just turn'd my face from thence-- + +It was a voice to charm each sense: +"Beware, for deep is yonder tide!" + +A thrill my blood pervaded now, + +I look'd and saw a beauteous maid + +I asked her name--twas Kate, she said-- +"Oh lovely Kate! how kind art thou! + +"From death I have been sav'd by thee, + +'Tis through thee only that I live; + +Little 'twere life alone to give, +My joy in life then deign to be!" + +And then I told my sorrows o'er, + +Her eyes to earth she sweetly threw; + +I kiss'd her, and she kiss'd me too, +And--then I talked of death no more. + + 1775.* +----- +THE MUSES' SON. + +[Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in his Autobiography, +as expressing the manner in which his poetical effusions used to +pour out from him.] + +THROUGH field and wood to stray, +And pipe my tuneful lay,-- + +'Tis thus my days are pass'd; +And all keep tune with me, +And move in harmony, + +And so on, to the last. + +To wait I scarce have power +The garden's earliest flower, + +The tree's first bloom in Spring; +They hail my joyous strain,-- +When Winter comes again, + +Of that sweet dream I sing. + +My song sounds far and near, +O'er ice it echoes clear, + +Then Winter blossoms bright; +And when his blossoms fly, +Fresh raptures meet mine eye, + +Upon the well-till'd height. + +When 'neath the linden tree, +Young folks I chance to see, + +I set them moving soon; +His nose the dull lad curls, +The formal maiden whirls, + +Obedient to my tune. + +Wings to the feet ye lend, +O'er hill and vale ye send + +The lover far from home; +When shall I, on your breast,. + +Ye kindly muses, rest, +And cease at length to roam? + + 1800.* +------ +FOUND. + +ONCE through the forest + +Alone I went; +To seek for nothing + +My thoughts were bent. + +I saw i' the shadow + +A flower stand there +As stars it glisten'd, + +As eyes 'twas fair. + +I sought to pluck it,-- + +It gently said: +"Shall I be gather'd + +Only to fade?" + +With all its roots + +I dug it with care, +And took it home + +To my garden fair. + +In silent corner + +Soon it was set; +There grows it ever, + +There blooms it yet. + + 1815.* +----- +LIKE AND LIKE. + +A FAIR bell-flower + +Sprang tip from the ground; +And early its fragrance + +It shed all around; +A bee came thither + +And sipp'd from its bell; +That they for each other + +Were made, we see well. + + 1814. +----- +RECIPROCAL INVITATION TO THE DANCE. + +THE INDIFFERENT. + +COME to the dance with me, come with me, fair one! + +Dances a feast-day like this may well crown. +If thou my sweetheart art not, thou canst be so, + +But if thou wilt not, we still will dance on. +Come to the dance with me, come with me, fair one! + +Dances a feast-day like this may well crown. + +THE TENDER. + +Loved one, without thee, what then would all feast be? + +Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance? +If thou my sweetheart wert not, I would dance not. + +If thou art still so, all life is one feast. +Loved one, without thee, what then would all feasts be? + +Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance? + +THE INDIFFERENT. + +Let them but love, then, and leave us the dancing! + +Languishing love cannot bear the glad dance. +Let us whirl round in the waltz's gay measure, + +And let them steal to the dim-lighted wood. +Let them but love, then, and leave us the dancing! + +Languishing love cannot bear the glad dance. + +THE TENDER. + +Let them whirl round, then, and leave us to wander! + +Wand'ring to love is a heavenly dance. +Cupid, the near one, o'erhears their deriding, + +Vengeance takes suddenly, vengeance takes soon. +Let them whirl round, then, and leave us to wander! + +Wand'ring to love is a heavenly dance. + + 1789.* +----- +SELF-DECEIT. + +My neighbour's curtain, well I see, + +Is moving to and fin. +No doubt she's list'ning eagerly, + +If I'm at home or no. + +And if the jealous grudge I bore + +And openly confess'd, +Is nourish'd by me as before, + +Within my inmost breast. + +Alas! no fancies such as these + +E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts. +I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze + +That with the curtain sports. + + 1803. +----- +DECLARATION OF WAR. + +OH, would I resembled + +The country girls fair, +Who rosy-red ribbons + +And yellow hats wear! + +To believe I was pretty + +I thought was allow'd; +In the town I believed it + +When by the youth vow'd. + +Now that Spring hath return'd, + +All my joys disappear; +The girls of the country + +Have lured him from here. + +To change dress and figure, + +Was needful I found, +My bodice is longer, + +My petticoat round. + +My hat now is yellow. + +My bodice like snow; +The clover to sickle + +With others I go. + +Something pretty, e'er long + +Midst the troop he explores; +The eager boy signs me + +To go within doors. + +I bashfully go,-- + +Who I am, he can't trace; +He pinches my cheeks, + +And he looks in my face. + +The town girl now threatens + +You maidens with war; +Her twofold charms pledges . + +Of victory are. + + 1803. +----- +LOVER IN ALL SHAPES. + +To be like a fish, +Brisk and quick, is my wish; +If thou cam'st with thy line. +Thou wouldst soon make me thine. +To be like a fish, +Brisk and quick, is my wish. + +Oh, were I a steed! +Thou wouldst love me indeed. +Oh, were I a car +Fit to bear thee afar! +Oh, were I a steed! +Thou wouldst love me indeed. + +I would I were gold +That thy fingers might hold! +If thou boughtest aught then, +I'd return soon again. +I would I were gold +That thy fingers might hold! + +I would I were true, +And my sweetheart still new! +To be faithful I'd swear, +And would go away ne'er. +I would I were true, +And my sweetheart still new! + +I would I were old, +And wrinkled and cold, +So that if thou said'st No, +I could stand such a blow! +I would I were old, +And wrinkled and cold. + +An ape I would be, +Full of mischievous glee; +If aught came to vex thee, +I'd plague and perplex thee. +An ape I would be, +Full of mischievous glee + +As a lamb I'd behave, +As a lion be brave, +As a lynx clearly see, +As a fox cunning be. +As a lamb I'd behave, +As a lion be brave. + +Whatever I were, +All on thee I'd confer; +With the gifts of a prince +My affection evince. +Whatever I were, +All on thee I'd confer. + +As nought diff'rent can make me, +As I am thou must take me! +If I'm not good enough, +Thou must cut thine own stuff. +As nought diff'rent can make me, +As I am thou must take me! + + 1815.* +----- +THE GOLDSMITH'S APPRENTICE. + +My neighbour, none can e'er deny, + +Is a most beauteous maid; +Her shop is ever in mine eye, + +When working at my trade. + +To ring and chain I hammer then + +The wire of gold assay'd, +And think the while: "For Kate, oh when + +Will such a ring be made?" + +And when she takes her shutters down, + +Her shop at once invade, +To buy and haggle, all the town, + +For all that's there displayd. + +I file, and maybe overfile + +The wire of gold assay'd; +My master grumbles all the while,-- + +Her shop the mischief made. + +To ply her wheel she straight begins, + +When not engaged in trade; +I know full well for what she spins,-- + +'Tis hope guides that dear maid. + +Her leg, while her small foot treads on, + +Is in my mind portray'd; +Her garter I recall anon,-- + +I gave it that dear maid. + +Then to her lips the finest thread + +Is by her hand convey'd. +Were I there only in its stead, + +How I would kiss the maid! + + 1808. +----- +ANSWERS IN A GAME OF QUESTIONS. + +THE LADY. + +IN the small and great world too, + +What most charms a woman's heart? +It is doubtless what is new, + +For its blossoms joy impart; +Nobler far is what is true, + +For fresh blossoms it can shoot + +Even in the time of fruit. + +THE YOUNG GENTLEMAN. + +With the Nymphs in wood and cave + +Paris was acquainted well, +Till Zeus sent, to make him rave, + +Three of those in Heav'n who dwell; +And the choice more trouble gave + +Than e'er fell to mortal lot, + +Whether in old times or not. + +THE EXPERIENCED. + +Tenderly a woman view, + +And thoult win her, take my word; +He who's quick and saucy too, + +Will of all men be preferr'd; +Who ne'er seems as if he knew + +If he pleases, if he charms,-- + +He 'tis injures, he 'tis harms. + +THE CONTENTED. + +Manifold is human strife, + +Human passion, human pain; +Many a blessing yet is rife, + +Many pleasures still remain. +Yet the greatest bliss in life, + +And the richest prize we find, + +Is a good, contented mind. + +THE MERRY COUNSEL. + +He by whom man's foolish will + +Is each day review'd and blamed, +Who, when others fools are still, + +Is himself a fool proclaim'd,-- +Ne'er at mill was beast's back press'd + +With a heavier load than he. +What I feel within my breast + +That in truth's the thing for me! + + 1789. +----- +DIFFERENT EMOTIONS ON THE SAME SPOT. + +THE MAIDEN. + +I'VE seen him before me! +What rapture steals o'er me! + +Oh heavenly sight! +He's coming to meet me; +Perplex'd, I retreat me, + +With shame take to flight. +My mind seems to wander! +Ye rocks and trees yonder, + +Conceal ye my rapture. + +Conceal my delight! + +THE YOUTH. + +'Tis here I must find her, +'Twas here she enshrined her, + +Here vanish'd from sight. +She came, as to meet me, +Then fearing to greet me, + +With shame took to flight. +Is't hope? Do I wander? +Ye rocks and trees yonder, + +Disclose ye the loved one, + +Disclose my delight! + +THE LANGUISHING. + +O'er my sad, fate I sorrow, +To each dewy morrow, + +Veil'd here from man's sight +By the many mistaken, +Unknown and forsaken, + +Here I wing my flight! +Compassionate spirit! +Let none ever hear it,-- + +Conceal my affliction, + +Conceal thy delight! + +THE HUNTER. + +To-day I'm rewarded; +Rich booty's afforded + +By Fortune so bright. +My servant the pheasants, +And hares fit for presents + +Takes homeward at night; +Here see I enraptured +In nets the birds captured!-- + +Long life to the hunter! + +Long live his delight! + + 1789. +----- +WHO'LL BUY GODS OF LOVE? + +OF all the beauteous wares +Exposed for sale at fairs, +None will give more delight +Than those that to your sight +From distant lands we bring. +Oh, hark to what we sing! +These beauteous birds behold, +They're brought here to be sold. + +And first the big one see, +So full of roguish glee! +With light and merry bound +He leaps upon the ground; +Then springs up on the bougd, +We will not praise him now. +The merry bird behold,-- +He's brought here to be sold. + +And now the small one see! +A modest look has he, +And yet he's such apother +As his big roguish brother. +'Tis chiefly when all's still +He loves to show his will. +The bird so small and bold,-- +He's brought here to be sold. + +Observe this little love, +This darling turtle dove! +All maidens are so neat, +So civil, so discreet +Let them their charms set loose, +And turn your love to use; +The gentle bird behold,-- +She's brought here to be sold. + +Their praises we won't tell; +They'll stand inspection well. +They're fond of what is new,-- +And yet, to show they're true, +Nor seal nor letter's wanted; +To all have wings been granted. +The pretty birds behold,-- +Such beauties ne'er were sold! + + 1795. +----- +THE MISANTHROPE. + +AT first awhile sits he, + +With calm, unruffled brow; +His features then I see, +Distorted hideously,-- + +An owl's they might be now. + +What is it, askest thou? +Is't love, or is't ennui? + +'Tis both at once, I vow. + + 1767-9. +----- +DIFFERENT THREATS. + +I ONCE into a forest far + +My maiden went to seek, +And fell upon her neck, when: "Ah!" + +She threaten'd, "I will shriek!" + +Then cried I haughtily: "I'll crush + +The man that dares come near thee!" +"Hush!" whisper'd she: "My loved one, hush! + +Or else they'll overhear thee!" + + 1767-9. +----- +MAIDEN WISHES. + +WHAT pleasure to me +A bridegroom would be! +When married we are, +They call us mamma. +No need then to sew, +To school we ne'er go; +Command uncontroll'd, +Have maids, whom to scold; +Choose clothes at our ease, +Of what tradesmen we please; +Walk freely about, +And go to each rout, +And unrestrained are +By papa or mamma. + + 1767-9. +----- +MOTIVES. + +IF to a girl who loves us truly +Her mother gives instruction duly +In virtue, duty, and what not,-- +And if she hearkens ne'er a jot, +But with fresh-strengthen'd longing flies + +To meet our kiss that seems to burn,-- + +Caprice has just as much concerned +As love in her bold enterprise. + +But if her mother can succeed +In gaining for her maxims heed, +And softening the girl's heart too, +So that she coyly shuns our view,-- +The heart of youth she knows but ill; + +For when a maiden is thus stern, + +Virtue in truth has less concern +In this, than an inconstant will. + + 1767-9. +----- +TRUE ENJOYMENT. + +VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart, + +Heap up a maiden's lap with gold; +The joys of love thou must impart, + +Wouldst thou e'er see those joys unfold. +The voices of the throng gold buys, + +No single heart 'twill win for thee; +Wouldst thou a maiden make thy prize, + +Thyself alone the bribe must be. + +If by no sacred tie thou'rt bound, + +Oh youth, thou must thyself restrain! +Well may true liberty be found, + +Tho' man may seem to wear a chain. +Let one alone inflame thee e'er, + +And if her heart with love o'erflows, +Let tenderness unite you there, + +If duty's self no fetter knows. + +First feel, oh youth! A girl then find + +Worthy thy choice,--let her choose thee, +In body fair, and fair in mind, + +And then thou wilt be blessed, like me. +I who have made this art mine own, + +A girl have chosen such as this +The blessing of the priest alone + +Is wanting to complete our bliss. + +Nought but my rapture is her guide, + +Only for me she cares to please,-- +Ne'er wanton save when by my side, + +And modest when the world she sees; +That time our glow may never chill, + +She yields no right through frailty; +Her favour is a favour still, + +And I must ever grateful be. + +Yet I'm content, and full of joy, + +If she'll but grant her smile so sweet, +Or if at table she'll employ, + +To pillow hers, her lover's feet, +Give me the apple that she bit, + +The glass from which she drank, bestow, +And when my kiss so orders it, + +Her bosom, veil'd till then, will show. + +And when she wills of love to speak, + +In fond and silent hours of bliss, +Words from her mouth are all I seek, + +Nought else I crave,--not e'en a kiss. +With what a soul her mind is fraught, + +Wreath'd round with charms unceasingly! +She's perfect,--and she fails in nought + +Save in her deigning to love me. + +My rev'rence throws me at her feet, + +My longing throws me on her breast; +This, youth, is rapture true and sweet, + +Be wise, thus seeking to be blest. +When death shall take thee from her side, + +To join the angelic choir above, +In heaven's bright mansions to abide,-- +No diff'rence at the change thoult prove. + + 1767-8. +----- +THE FAREWELL. + +[Probably addressed to his mistress Frederica.] + +LET mine eye the farewell say, + +That my lips can utter ne'er; +Fain I'd be a man to-day, + +Yet 'tis hard, oh, hard to bear! + +Mournful in an hour like this + +Is love's sweetest pledge, I ween; +Cold upon thy mouth the kiss, + +Faint thy fingers' pressure e'en. + +Oh what rapture to my heart + +Used each stolen kiss to bring! +As the violets joy impart, + +Gather'd in the early spring. + +Now no garlands I entwine, + +Now no roses pluck. for thee, +Though 'tis springtime, Fanny mine, + +Dreary autumn 'tis to me! + + 1771. +----- +THE BEAUTIFUL NIGHT. + +Now I leave this cottage lowly, + +Where my love hath made her home, +And with silent footstep slowly + +Through the darksome forest roam, +Luna breaks through oaks and bushes, + +Zephyr hastes her steps to meet, +And the waving birch-tree blushes, + +Scattering round her incense sweet. + +Grateful are the cooling breezes + +Of this beauteous summer night, +Here is felt the charm that pleases, + +And that gives the soul delight. +Boundless is my joy; yet, Heaven, + +Willingly I'd leave to thee +Thousand such nights, were one given + +By my maiden loved to me! + + 1767-8. +----- +HAPPINESS AND VISION. + +TOGETHER at the altar we +In vision oft were seen by thee, + +Thyself as bride, as bridegroom I. +Oft from thy mouth full many a kiss +In an unguarded hour of bliss + +I then would steal, while none were by. + +The purest rapture we then knew, +The joy those happy hours gave too, + +When tasted, fled, as time fleets on. +What now avails my joy to me? +Like dreams the warmest kisses flee, + +Like kisses, soon all joys are gone. + + 1767-8. +----- +LIVING REMEMBRANCE. + +HALF vex'd, half pleased, thy love will feel, +Shouldst thou her knot or ribbon steal; +To thee they're much--I won't conceal; + +Such self-deceit may pardon'd be; +A veil, a kerchief, garter, rings, +In truth are no mean trifling things, + +But still they're not enough for me. + +She who is dearest to my heart, +Gave me, with well dissembled smart, +Of her own life, a living part, + +No charm in aught beside I trace; +How do I scorn thy paltry ware! +A lock she gave me of the hair + +That wantons o'er her beauteous face. + +If, loved one, we must sever'd be, +Wouldst thou not wholly fly from me, +I still possess this legacy, + +To look at, and to kiss in play.-- +My fate is to the hair's allied, +We used to woo her with like pride, + +And now we both are far away. + +Her charms with equal joy we press'd, +Her swelling cheeks anon caress'd, +Lured onward by a yearning blest, + +Upon her heaving bosom fell. +Oh rival, free from envy's sway, +Thou precious gift, thou beauteous prey. + +Remain my joy and bliss to tell! + + 1767-9. +----- +THE BLISS OF ABSENCE. + +DRINK, oh youth, joy's purest ray +From thy loved one's eyes all day, + +And her image paint at night! +Better rule no lover knows, +Yet true rapture greater grows, + +When far sever'd from her sight. + +Powers eternal, distance, time, +Like the might of stars sublime, + +Gently rock the blood to rest, +O'er my senses softness steals, +Yet my bosom lighter feels, + +And I daily am more blest. + +Though I can forget her ne'er, +Yet my mind is free from care, + +I can calmly live and move; +Unperceived infatuation +Longing turns to adoration, + +Turns to reverence my love. + +Ne'er can cloud, however light, +Float in ether's regions bright, + +When drawn upwards by the sun, +As my heart in rapturous calm. +Free from envy and alarm, + +Ever love I her alone! + + 1767-9. +----- +TO LUNA. + +SISTER of the first-born light, + +Type of sorrowing gentleness! + +Quivering mists in silv'ry dress +Float around thy features bright; +When thy gentle foot is heard, + +From the day-closed caverns then + +Wake the mournful ghosts of men, +I, too, wake, and each night-bird. + +O'er a field of boundless span + +Looks thy gaze both far and wide. + +Raise me upwards to thy side! +Grant this to a raving man! +And to heights of rapture raised, + +Let the knight so crafty peep + +At his maiden while asleep, +Through her lattice-window glazed. + +Soon the bliss of this sweet view, + +Pangs by distance caused allays; + +And I gather all thy rays, +And my look I sharpen too. +Round her unveil'd limbs I see + +Brighter still become the glow, + +And she draws me down below, +As Endymion once drew thee. + + 1767-9. +----- +THE WEDDING NIGHT. + +WITHIN the chamber, far away + +From the glad feast, sits Love in dread +Lest guests disturb, in wanton play, + +The silence of the bridal bed. +His torch's pale flame serves to gild + +The scene with mystic sacred glow; +The room with incense-clouds is fil'd, + +That ye may perfect rapture know. + +How beats thy heart, when thou dost hear + +The chime that warns thy guests to fly! +How glow'st thou for those lips so dear, + +That soon are mute, and nought deny! +With her into the holy place + +Thou hast'nest then, to perfect all; +The fire the warder's hands embrace, + +Grows, like a night-light, dim and small. + +How heaves her bosom, and how burns + +Her face at every fervent kiss! +Her coldness now to trembling turns, + +Thy daring now a duty is. +Love helps thee to undress her fast, + +But thou art twice as fast as he; +And then he shuts both eye at last, + +With sly and roguish modesty. + + 1767. +----- +MISCHIEVOUS JOY. + +AS a butterfly renew'd, + +When in life I breath'd my last, + + To the spots my flight I wing, + +Scenes of heav'nly rapture past, + + Over meadows, to the spring, +Round the hill, and through the wood. + +Soon a tender pair I spy, + +And I look down from my seat + + On the beauteous maiden's head-- + +When embodied there I meet + + All I lost as soon as dead, +Happy as before am I. + +Him she clasps with silent smile, + +And his mouth the hour improves, + + Sent by kindly Deities; + +First from breast to mouth it roves, + + Then from mouth to hands it flies, +And I round him sport the while. + +And she sees me hov'ring near; + +Trembling at her lovers rapture, + + Up she springs--I fly away, + +"Dearest! let's the insect capture + + Come! I long to make my prey +Yonder pretty little dear!" + + 1767-9. +----- +APPARENT DEATH. + +WEEP, maiden, weep here o'er the tomb of Love; + +He died of nothing--by mere chance was slain. +But is he really dead?--oh, that I cannot prove: + +A nothing, a mere chance, oft gives him life again. + + 1767-9. +----- +NOVEMBER SONG. + +To the great archer--not to him + +To meet whom flies the sun, +And who is wont his features dim + +With clouds to overrun-- + +But to the boy be vow'd these rhymes, + +Who 'mongst the roses plays, +Who hear us, and at proper times + +To pierce fair hearts essays. + +Through him the gloomy winter night, + +Of yore so cold and drear, +Brings many a loved friend to our sight, + +And many a woman dear. + +Henceforward shall his image fair + +Stand in yon starry skies, +And, ever mild and gracious there, + +Alternate set and rise. + + 1815.* +----- +TO THE CHOSEN ONE. +[This sweet song is doubtless one of those addressed to +Frederica.] + +HAND in hand! and lip to lip! + +Oh, be faithful, maiden dear! +Fare thee well! thy lover's ship + +Past full many a rock must steers +But should he the haven see, + +When the storm has ceased to break, +And be happy, reft of thee,-- + +May the Gods fierce vengeance take! + +Boldly dared is well nigh won! + +Half my task is solved aright; +Ev'ry star's to me a sun, + +Only cowards deem it night. +Stood I idly by thy side, + +Sorrow still would sadden me; +But when seas our paths divide, + +Gladly toil I,--toil for thee! + +Now the valley I perceive, + +Where together we will go, +And the streamlet watch each eve, + +Gliding peacefully below +Oh, the poplars on yon spot! + +Oh, the beech trees in yon grove! +And behind we'll build a cot, + +Where to taste the joys of love! + + 1771. +----- +FIRST LOSS. + +AH! who'll e'er those days restore, + +Those bright days of early love +Who'll one hour again concede, + +Of that time so fondly cherish'd! +Silently my wounds I feed, +And with wailing evermore + +Sorrow o'er each joy now perish'd. +Ah! who'll e'er the days restore + +Of that time so fondly cherish'd. + + 1789.* +----- +AFTER-SENSATIONS. + +WHEN the vine again is blowing, + +Then the wine moves in the cask; +When the rose again is glowing, + + Wherefore should I feel oppress'd? + +Down my cheeks run tears all-burning, + +If I do, or leave my task; +I but feel a speechless yearning, + + That pervades my inmost breast. + +But at length I see the reason, + +When the question I would ask: +'Twas in such a beauteous season, + + Doris glowed to make me blest! + + 1797. +----- +PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE. + +I THINK of thee, whene'er the sun his beams + + O'er ocean flings; +I think of thee, whene'er the moonlight gleams + + In silv'ry springs. + +I see thee, when upon the distant ridge + + The dust awakes; +At midnight's hour, when on the fragile bridge + + The wanderer quakes. + +I hear thee, when yon billows rise on high, + + With murmur deep. +To tread the silent grove oft wander I, + + When all's asleep. + +I'm near thee, though thou far away mayst be-- + + Thou, too, art near! +The sun then sets, the stars soon lighten me. + + Would thou wert here! + + 1795. +----- +PRESENCE. + +ALL things give token of thee! +As soon as the bright sun is shining, +Thou too wilt follow, I trust. + +When in the garden thou walk'st, +Thou then art the rose of all roses, +Lily of lilies as well. + +When thou dost move in the dance, +Then each constellation moves also; +With thee and round thee they move. + +Night! oh, what bliss were the night! +For then thou o'ershadow'st the lustre, +Dazzling and fair, of the moon. + +Dazzling and beauteous art thou, +And flowers, and moon, and the planets +Homage pay, Sun, but to thee. + +Sun! to me also be thou +Creator of days bright and glorious; +Life and Eternity this! + + 1813. +----- +TO THE DISTANT ONE. + +AND have I lost thee evermore? + +Hast thou, oh fair one, from me flown? +Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore, + +Thine ev'ry word, thine ev'ry tone. + +As when at morn the wand'rer's eye + +Attempts to pierce the air in vain, +When, hidden in the azure sky, + +The lark high o'er him chaunts his strain: + +So do I cast my troubled gaze + +Through bush, through forest, o'er the lea; +Thou art invoked by all my lays; + +Oh, come then, loved one, back to me! + + 1789.* +----- +BY THE RIVER. + +FLOW on, ye lays so loved, so fair, + +On to Oblivion's ocean flow! +May no rapt boy recall you e'er, + +No maiden in her beauty's glow! + +My love alone was then your theme, + +But now she scorns my passion true. +Ye were but written in the stream; + +As it flows on, then, flow ye too! + + 1798.* +----- +FAREWELL. + +To break one's word is pleasure-fraught, + +To do one's duty gives a smart; +While man, alas! will promise nought, + +That is repugnant to his heart. + +Using some magic strains of yore, + +Thou lurest him, when scarcely calm, +On to sweet folly's fragile bark once more, + +Renewing, doubling chance of harm. + +Why seek to hide thyself from me? + +Fly not my sight--be open then! +Known late or early it must be, + +And here thou hast thy word again. + +My duty is fulfill'd to-day, + +No longer will I guard thee from surprise; +But, oh, forgive the friend who from thee turns away, + +And to himself for refuge flies! + + 1797. +----- +THE EXCHANGE. + +THE stones in the streamlet I make my bright pillow, +And open my arms to the swift-rolling billow, + +That lovingly hastens to fall on my breast. +Then fickleness soon bids it onwards be flowing; +A second draws nigh, its caresses bestowing,-- + +And so by a twofold enjoyment I'm blest. + +And yet thou art trailing in sorrow and sadness +The moments that life, as it flies, gave for gladness, + +Because by thy love thou'rt remember'd no more! +Oh, call back to mind former days and their blisses! +The lips of the second will give as sweet kisses + +As any the lips of the first gave before! + + 1767-9. +----- +WELCOME AND FAREWELL. + +[Another of the love-songs addressed to Frederica.] + +QUICK throbb'd my heart: to norse! haste, haste, + +And lo! 'twas done with speed of light; +The evening soon the world embraced, + +And o'er the mountains hung the night. +Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak, + +A tow'ring giant in his size, +Where darkness through the thicket broke, + +And glared with hundred gloomy eyes. + +From out a hill of clouds the moon + +With mournful gaze began to peer: +The winds their soft wings flutter'd soon, + +And murmur'd in mine awe-struck ear; +The night a thousand monsters made, + +Yet fresh and joyous was my mind; +What fire within my veins then play'd! + +What glow was in my bosom shrin'd! + +I saw thee, and with tender pride + +Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me; +While all my heart was at thy side. + +And every breath I breath'd for thee. +The roseate hues that spring supplies + +Were playing round thy features fair, +And love for me--ye Deities! + +I hoped it, I deserved it ne'er! + +But, when the morning sun return'd, + +Departure filled with grief my heart: +Within thy kiss, what rapture burn'd! + +But in thy look, what bitter smart! +I went--thy gaze to earth first roved + +Thou follow'dst me with tearful eye: +And yet, what rapture to be loved! + +And, Gods, to love--what ecstasy! + + 1771. +----- +NEW LOVE, NEW LIFE. + +[Written at the time of Goethe's connection with Lily.] + +HEART! my heart! what means this feeling? + +What oppresseth thee so sore? +What strange life is o'er me stealing! + +I acknowledge thee no more. +Fled is all that gave thee gladness, +Fled the cause of all thy sadness, + +Fled thy peace, thine industry-- + +Ah, why suffer it to be? + +Say, do beauty's graces youthful, + +Does this form so fair and bright, +Does this gaze, so kind, so truthful, + +Chain thee with unceasing might? +Would I tear me from her boldly, +Courage take, and fly her coldly, + +Back to her. I'm forthwith led + +By the path I seek to tread. + + +By a thread I ne'er can sever, + +For 'tis 'twined with magic skill, +Doth the cruel maid for ever + +Hold me fast against my will. +While those magic chains confine me, +To her will I must resign me. + +Ah, the change in truth is great! + +Love! kind love! release me straight! + + 1775. +----- +TO BELINDA. + +[This song was also written for Lily. Goethe mentions, at the end +of his Autobiography, that he overheard her singing it one +evening after he had taken his last farewell of her.] + +WHEREFORE drag me to yon glittering eddy, + + With resistless might? +Was I, then, not truly blest already + + In the silent night? + +In my secret chamber refuge taking, + + 'Neath the moon's soft ray, +And her awful light around me breaking, + + Musing there I lay. + +And I dream'd of hours with joy o'erflowing, + + Golden, truly blest, +While thine image so beloved was glowing + + Deep within my breast. + +Now to the card-table hast thou bound me, + + 'Midst the torches glare? +Whilst unhappy faces are around me, + + Dost thou hold me there? + +Spring-flow'rs are to me more rapture-giving, + + Now conceal'd from view; +Where thou, angel, art, is Nature living, + + Love and kindness too. + + 1775. +----- +MAY SONG. + +How fair doth Nature + +Appear again! +How bright the sunbeams! + +How smiles the plain! + +The flow'rs are bursting + +From ev'ry bough, +And thousand voices + +Each bush yields now. + +And joy and gladness + +Fill ev'ry breast! +Oh earth!--oh sunlight! + +Oh rapture blest! + +Oh love! oh loved one! + +As golden bright, +As clouds of morning + +On yonder height! + +Thou blessest gladly + +The smiling field,-- +The world in fragrant + +Vapour conceal'd. + +Oh maiden, maiden, + +How love I thee! +Thine eye, how gleams it! + +How lov'st thou me! + +The blithe lark loveth + +Sweet song and air, +The morning flow'ret + +Heav'n's incense fair, + +As I now love thee + +With fond desire, +For thou dost give me + +Youth, joy, and fire, + +For new-born dances + +And minstrelsy. +Be ever happy, + +As thou lov'st me! + + 1775.* +----- +WITH A PAINTED RIBBON. + +LITTLE leaves and flow'rets too, + +Scatter we with gentle hand, +Kind young spring-gods to the view, + +Sporting on an airy band. + +Zephyr, bear it on the wing, + +Twine it round my loved one's dress; +To her glass then let her spring, + +Full of eager joyousness. + +Roses round her let her see, + +She herself a youthful rose. +Grant, dear life, one look to me! + +'Twill repay me all my woes, + +What this bosom feels, feel thou. + +Freely offer me thy hand; +Let the band that joins us now + +Be no fragile rosy band! + + 1770. +----- +WITH A GOLDEN NECKLACE. + +THIS page a chain to bring thee burns, + +That, train'd to suppleness of old, +On thy fair neck to nestle, yearns, + +In many a hundred little fold. + +To please the silly thing consent! + +'Tis harmless, and from boldness free; +By day a trifling ornament, + +At night 'tis cast aside by thee. + +But if the chain they bring thee ever, + +Heavier, more fraught with weal or woe, +I'd then, Lisette, reproach thee never + +If thou shouldst greater scruples show. + + 1775.* +----- +ON THE LAKE, + +[Written on the occasion of Goethe's starting with his friend +Passavant on a Swiss Tour.] + +I DRINK fresh nourishment, new blood + +From out this world more free; +The Nature is so kind and good + +That to her breast clasps me! +The billows toss our bark on high, + +And with our oars keep time, +While cloudy mountains tow'rd the sky + +Before our progress climb. + +Say, mine eye, why sink'st thou down? +Golden visions, are ye flown? + +Hence, thou dream, tho' golden-twin'd; + +Here, too, love and life I find. + +Over the waters are blinking + +Many a thousand fair star; +Gentle mists are drinking + +Round the horizon afar. +Round the shady creek lightly + +Morning zephyrs awake, +And the ripen'd fruit brightly + +Mirrors itself in the lake. + + 1775. +----- +FROM THE MOUNTAIN. + +[Written just after the preceding one, on a mountain overlooking +the Lake of Zurich.] + +IF I, dearest Lily, did not love thee, + +How this prospect would enchant my sight! +And yet if I, Lily, did not love thee, + +Could I find, or here, or there, delight? + + 1775. +----- +FLOWER-SALUTE. + +THIS nosegay,--'twas I dress'd it,-- + +Greets thee a thousand times! +Oft stoop'd I, and caress'd it, + +Ah! full a thousand times, +And 'gainst my bosom press'd it + +A hundred thousand times! + + 1815.* +----- +IN SUMMER. + +How plain and height +With dewdrops are bright! +How pearls have crown'd +The plants all around! +How sighs the breeze +Thro' thicket and trees! +How loudly in the sun's clear rays +The sweet birds carol forth their lays! + +But, ah! above, +Where saw I my love, +Within her room, +Small, mantled in gloom, +Enclosed around, +Where sunlight was drown'd, +How little there was earth to me, +With all its beauteous majesty! + + 1776.* +----- +MAY SONG. + +BETWEEN wheatfield and corn, +Between hedgerow and thorn, +Between pasture and tree, +Where's my sweetheart +Tell it me! + +Sweetheart caught I + +Not at home; +She's then, thought I. + +Gone to roam. +Fair and loving + +Blooms sweet May; +Sweetheart's roving, + +Free and gay. + +By the rock near the wave, +Where her first kiss she gave, +On the greensward, to me,-- +Something I see! +Is it she? + + 1812. +----- +PREMATURE SPRING. + +DAYS full of rapture, + +Are ye renew'd ?-- +Smile in the sunlight + +Mountain and wood? + +Streams richer laden + +Flow through the dale, +Are these the meadows? + +Is this the vale? + +Coolness cerulean! + +Heaven and height! +Fish crowd the ocean, + +Golden and bright. + +Birds of gay plumage + +Sport in the grove, +Heavenly numbers + +Singing above. + +Under the verdure's + +Vigorous bloom, +Bees, softly bumming, + +Juices consume. + +Gentle disturbance + +Quivers in air, +Sleep-causing fragrance, + +Motion so fair. + +Soon with more power + +Rises the breeze, +Then in a moment + +Dies in the trees. + +But to the bosom + +Comes it again. +Aid me, ye Muses, + +Bliss to sustain! + +Say what has happen'd + +Since yester e'en? +Oh, ye fair sisters, + +Her I have seen! + + 1802. +----- +AUTUMN FEELINGS. + +FLOURISH greener, as ye clamber, +Oh ye leaves, to seek my chamber, + +Up the trellis'd vine on high! +May ye swell, twin-berries tender, +Juicier far,--and with more splendour + +Ripen, and more speedily! +O'er ye broods the sun at even +As he sinks to rest, and heaven + +Softly breathes into your ear +All its fertilising fullness, +While the moon's refreshing coolness, + +Magic-laden, hovers near; +And, alas! ye're watered ever + +By a stream of tears that rill +From mine eyes--tears ceasing never, + +Tears of love that nought can still! + + 1775.* +----- +RESTLESS LOVE. + +THROUGH rain, through snow, +Through tempest go! +'Mongst streaming caves, +O'er misty waves, +On, on! still on! +Peace, rest have flown! + +Sooner through sadness + +I'd wish to be slain, +Than all the gladness + +Of life to sustain +All the fond yearning + +That heart feels for heart, +Only seems burning + +To make them both smart. + +How shall I fly? +Forestwards hie? +Vain were all strife! +Bright crown of life. +Turbulent bliss,-- +Love, thou art this! + + 1789. +----- +THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT. + +ON yonder lofty mountain + +A thousand times I stand, +And on my staff reclining, + +Look down on the smiling land. + +My grazing flocks then I follow, + +My dog protecting them well; +I find myself in the valley, + +But how, I scarcely can tell. + +The whole of the meadow is cover'd + +With flowers of beauty rare; +I pluck them, but pluck them unknowing + +To whom the offering to bear. + +In rain and storm and tempest, + +I tarry beneath the tree, +But closed remaineth yon portal; + + 'Tis all but a vision to me. + +High over yonder dwelling, + +There rises a rainbow gay; +But she from home hath departed + +And wander'd far, far away. + +Yes, far away bath she wander'd, + +Perchance e'en over the sea; +Move onward, ye sheep, then, move onward! + +Full sad the shepherd must be. + + 1803.* +----- +COMFORT IN TEARS. + +How happens it that thou art sad, + +While happy all appear? +Thine eye proclaims too well that thou + +Hast wept full many a tear. + +"If I have wept in solitude, + +None other shares my grief, +And tears to me sweet balsam are, + +And give my heart relief." + +Thy happy friends invite thee now,-- + +Oh come, then, to our breast! +And let the loss thou hast sustain'd + +Be there to us confess'd! + +"Ye shout, torment me, knowing not + +What 'tis afflicteth me; +Ah no! I have sustained no loss, + +Whate'er may wanting be." + +If so it is, arise in haste! + +Thou'rt young and full of life. +At years like thine, man's blest with strength. + +And courage for the strife. + +"Ah no! in vain 'twould be to strive, + +The thing I seek is far; +It dwells as high, it gleams as fair + +As yonder glitt'ring star." + +The stars we never long to clasp, + +We revel in their light, +And with enchantment upward gaze, + +Each clear and radiant night. + +"And I with rapture upward gaze, + +On many a blissful day; +Then let me pass the night in tears, + +Till tears are wip'd away! + + 1803.* +----- +NIGHT SONG, + +WHEN on thy pillow lying, + +Half listen, I implore, +And at my lute's soft sighing, + +Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? + +For at my lute's soft sighing + +The stars their blessings pour +On feelings never-dying; + +Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? + +Those feelings never-dying + +My spirit aid to soar +From earthly conflicts trying; + +Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? + +From earthly conflicts trying + +Thou driv'st me to this shore; +Through thee I'm thither flying,-- + +Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? + +Through thee I'm hither flying, + +Thou wilt not list before +In slumbers thou art lying: + +Sleep on! what wouldst thou more? + + 1803.* +----- +LONGING. + +WHAT pulls at my heart so? + +What tells me to roam? +What drags me and lures me + +From chamber and home? +How round the cliffs gather + +The clouds high in air! +I fain would go thither, + +I fain would be there! + +The sociable flight + +Of the ravens comes back; +I mingle amongst them, + +And follow their track. +Round wall and round mountain + +Together we fly; +She tarries below there, + +I after her spy. + +Then onward she wanders, + +My flight I wing soon +To the wood fill'd with bushes, + +A bird of sweet tune. +She tarries and hearkens, + +And smiling, thinks she: +"How sweetly he's singing! + +He's singing to me!" + +The heights are illum'd + +By the fast setting sun; +The pensive fair maiden + +Looks thoughtfully on; +She roams by the streamlet, + +O'er meadows she goes, +And darker and darker + +The pathway fast grows. + +I rise on a sudden, + +A glimmering star; +"What glitters above me, + +So near and so far?" + +And when thou with wonder + +Hast gazed on the light, +I fall down before thee, + +Entranced by thy sight! + + 1803. +----- +TO MIGNON. + +OVER vale and torrent far +Rolls along the sun's bright car. +Ah! he wakens in his course + +Mine, as thy deep-seated smart + +In the heart. +Ev'ry morning with new force. + +Scarce avails night aught to me; +E'en the visions that I see +Come but in a mournful guise; + +And I feel this silent smart + +In my heart +With creative pow'r arise. + +During many a beauteous year +I have seen ships 'neath me steer, +As they seek the shelt'ring bay; + +But, alas, each lasting smart + +In my heart +Floats not with the stream away. + +I must wear a gala dress, +Long stored up within my press, +For to-day to feasts is given; + +None know with what bitter smart + +Is my heart +Fearfully and madly riven. + +Secretly I weep each tear, +Yet can cheerful e'en appear, +With a face of healthy red; + +For if deadly were this silent smart + +In my heart, +Ah, I then had long been dead! +----- +THE MOUNTAIN CASTLE. + +THERE stands on yonder high mountain + +A castle built of yore, +Where once lurked horse and horseman + +In rear of gate and of door. + +Now door and gate are in ashes, + +And all around is so still; +And over the fallen ruins + +I clamber just as I will. + +Below once lay a cellar, + +With costly wines well stor'd; +No more the glad maid with her pitcher + +Descends there to draw from the hoard. + +No longer the goblet she places + +Before the guests at the feast; +The flask at the meal so hallow'd + +No longer she fills for the priest. + +No more for the eager squire + +The draught in the passage is pour'd; +No more for the flying present + +Receives she the flying reward. + +For all the roof and the rafters, + +They all long since have been burn'd, +And stairs and passage and chapel + +To rubbish and ruins are turn'd. + +Yet when with lute and with flagon, + +When day was smiling and bright, +I've watch'd my mistress climbing + +To gain this perilous height, + +Then rapture joyous and radiant + +The silence so desolate brake, +And all, as in days long vanish'd, + +Once more to enjoyment awoke; + +As if for guests of high station + +The largest rooms were prepared; +As if from those times so precious + +A couple thither had fared; + +As if there stood in his chapel + +The priest in his sacred dress, +And ask'd: "Would ye twain be united?" + +And we, with a smile, answer'd, "Yes!" + +And songs that breath'd a deep feeling, + +That touched the heart's innermost chord, +The music-fraught mouth of sweet echo, + +Instead of the many, outpour'd. + +And when at eve all was hidden + +In silence unbroken and deep, +The glowing sun then look'd upwards, + +And gazed on the summit so steep. + +And squire and maiden then glitter'd + +As bright and gay as a lord, +She seized the time for her present, + +And he to give her reward. + + 1803.* +----- +THE SPIRIT'S SALUTE. + +THE hero's noble shade stands high + +On yonder turret grey; +And as the ship is sailing by, + +He speeds it on his way. + +"See with what strength these sinews thrill'd! + +This heart, how firm and wild! +These bones, what knightly marrow fill'd! + +This cup, how bright it smil'd! + +"Half of my life I strove and fought, + +And half I calmly pass'd; +And thou, oh ship with beings fraught, + +Sail safely to the last!" + + 1774. +----- +TO A GOLDEN HEART THAT HE WORE ROUND HIS NECK. + +[Addressed, during the Swiss tour already mentioned, to a present +Lily had given him, during the time of their happy connection, +which was then about to be terminated for ever.] + +OH thou token loved of joys now perish'd + +That I still wear from my neck suspended, +Art thou stronger than our spirit-bond so cherish'd? + +Or canst thou prolong love's days untimely ended? + +Lily, I fly from thee! I still am doom'd to range +Thro' countries strange, + +Thro' distant vales and woods, link'd on to thee! +Ah, Lily's heart could surely never fall + +So soon away from me! + +As when a bird bath broken from his thrall, + +And seeks the forest green, +Proof of imprisonment he bears behind him, +A morsel of the thread once used to bind him; + +The free-born bird of old no more is seen, + +For he another's prey bath been. + + 1775. +----- +THE BLISS OF SORROW. + + +NEVER dry, never dry, + + Tears that eternal love sheddeth! +How dreary, how dead doth the world still appear, +When only half-dried on the eye is the tear! + +Never dry, never dry, + + Tears that unhappy love sheddeth! + + 1789.* +----- +THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG. + +THOU who comest from on high, + +Who all woes and sorrows stillest, +Who, for twofold misery, + +Hearts with twofold balsam fillest, +Would this constant strife would cease! + +What are pain and rapture now? +Blissful Peace, + +To my bosom hasten thou! + + 1789.* +----- +THE SAME. + +[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of +Ilmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed +the last act of his Iphigenia.] + + +HUSH'D on the hill + + Is the breeze; + +Scarce by the zephyr + + The trees + +Softly are press'd; +The woodbird's asleep on the bough. +Wait, then, and thou + +Soon wilt find rest. + + 1783. +----- +THE HUNTER'S EVEN-SONG. + +THE plain with still and wand'ring feet, + +And gun full-charged, I tread, +And hov'ring see thine image sweet, + +Thine image dear, o'er head. + +In gentle silence thou dost fare + +Through field and valley dear; +But doth my fleeting image ne'er + +To thy mind's eye appear? + +His image, who, by grief oppress'd, + +Roams through the world forlorn, +And wanders on from east to west, + +Because from thee he's torn? + +When I would think of none but thee, + +Mine eyes the moon survey; +A calm repose then steals o'er me, + +But how, 'twere hard to say. + + 1776,* +----- +TO THE MOON. + +BUSH and vale thou fill'st again + +With thy misty ray, +And my spirit's heavy chain + +Castest far away. + +Thou dost o'er my fields extend + +Thy sweet soothing eye, +Watching like a gentle friend, + +O'er my destiny. + +Vanish'd days of bliss and woe + +Haunt me with their tone, +Joy and grief in turns I know, + +As I stray alone. + +Stream beloved, flow on! flow on! + +Ne'er can I be gay! +Thus have sport and kisses gone, + +Truth thus pass'd away. + +Once I seem'd the lord to be + +Of that prize so fair! +Now, to our deep sorrow, we + +Can forget it ne'er. + +Murmur, stream, the vale along, + +Never cease thy sighs; +Murmur, whisper to my song + +Answering melodies! + +When thou in the winter's night + +Overflow'st in wrath, +Or in spring-time sparklest bright, + +As the buds shoot forth. + +He who from the world retires, + +Void of hate, is blest; +Who a friend's true love inspires, + +Leaning on his breast! + +That which heedless man ne'er knew, + +Or ne'er thought aright, +Roams the bosom's labyrinth through, + +Boldly into night. + + 1789.* +----- +TO LINA. + +SHOULD these songs, love, as they fleet, + +Chance again to reach thy hand, +At the piano take thy seat, + +Where thy friend was wont to stand! + +Sweep with finger bold the string, + +Then the book one moment see: +But read not! do nought but sing! + +And each page thine own will be! + +Ah, what grief the song imparts + +With its letters, black on white, +That, when breath'd by thee, our hearts + +Now can break and now delight! + + 1800.* +----- +EVER AND EVERYWHERE. + +FAR explore the mountain hollow, +High in air the clouds then follow! + +To each brook and vale the Muse + +Thousand times her call renews. + +Soon as a flow'ret blooms in spring, +It wakens many a strain; + +And when Time spreads his fleeting wing, + +The seasons come again. + + 1820.* +----- +PETITION. + +OH thou sweet maiden fair, +Thou with the raven hair, + +Why to the window go? + +While gazing down below, +Art standing vainly there? + +Oh, if thou stood'st for me, +And lett'st the latch but fly, + +How happy should I be! +How soon would I leap high! + + 1789.* +----- +TO HIS COY ONE. + +SEEST thou yon smiling Orange? +Upon the tree still hangs it; +Already March bath vanish'd, +And new-born flow'rs are shooting. +I draw nigh to the tree then, +And there I say: Oh Orange, +Thou ripe and juicy Orange, +Thou sweet and luscious Orange, +I shake the tree, I shake it, +Oh fall into my lap! + + 1789.* +----- +NIGHT THOUGHTS. + +OH, unhappy stars! your fate I mourn, + +Ye by whom the sea-toss'd sailor's lighted, +Who with radiant beams the heav'ns adorn, + +But by gods and men are unrequited: +For ye love not,--ne'er have learnt to love! +Ceaselessly in endless dance ye move, +In the spacious sky your charms displaying, + +What far travels ye have hasten'd through, +Since, within my loved one's arms delaying, + +I've forgotten you and midnight too! + + 1789.* +----- +TO LIDA. + +THE only one whom, Lida, thou canst love, + +Thou claim'st, and rightly claim'st, for only thee; +He too is wholly thine; since doomed to rove + +Far from thee, in life's turmoils nought I see +Save a thin veil, through which thy form I view, +As though in clouds; with kindly smile and true, + +It cheers me, like the stars eterne that gleam +Across the northern-lights' far-flick'ring beam. + + 1789.* +----- +PROXIMITY. + +I KNOW not, wherefore, dearest love, + +Thou often art so strange and coy +When 'mongst man's busy haunts we move, + +Thy coldness puts to flight my joy. +But soon as night and silence round us reign, +I know thee by thy kisses sweet again! + + 1789.* +----- +RECIPROCAL. + +MY mistress, where sits she? + +What is it that charms? +The absent she's rocking, + +Held fast in her arms. + +In pretty cage prison'd + +She holds a bird still; +Yet lets him fly from her, + +Whenever he will. + +He pecks at her finger, + +And pecks at her lips, +And hovers and flutters, + +And round her he skips. + +Then hasten thou homeward, + +In fashion to be; +If thou hast the maiden, + +She also hath thee. + + 1816. +----- +ROLLICKING HANS. + +HALLO there! A glass! + +Ha! the draught's truly sweet! +If for drink go my shoes, + +I shall still have my feet. + +A maiden and wine, + +With sweet music and song,-- +I would they were mine, + +All life's journey along! + +If I depart from this sad sphere, +And leave a will behind me here, +A suit at law will be preferr'd, +But as for thanks,--the deuce a word! +So ere I die, I squander all, +And that a proper will I call. + +HIS COMRADE. + +Hallo there! A glass! + +Ha! the draught's truly sweet +If thou keepest thy shoes, + +Thou wilt then spare thy feet. + +A maiden and wine, + +With sweet music and song, +On pavement, are thine, + +All life's journey along! +----- +THE FREEBOOTER, + +No door has my house, + +No house has my door; +And in and out ever + +I carry my store. + +No grate has my kitchen, + +No kitchen my grate; +Yet roasts it and boils it + +Both early and late. + +My bed has no trestles, + +My trestles no bed; +Yet merrier moments + +No mortal e'er led. + +My cellar is lofty, + +My barn is full deep, +From top to the bottom,-- + +There lie I and sleep. + +And soon as I waken, + +All moves on its race; +My place has no fixture, + +My fixture no place. + + 1827.* +----- +JOY AND SORROW. + +As a fisher-boy I fared + +To the black rock in the sea, +And, while false gifts I prepared. + +Listen'd and sang merrily, +Down descended the decoy, + +Soon a fish attack'd the bait; +One exultant shout of joy,-- + +And the fish was captured straight. + +Ah! on shore, and to the wood + +Past the cliffs, o'er stock and stone, +One foot's traces I pursued, + +And the maiden was alone. +Lips were silent, eyes downcast + +As a clasp-knife snaps the bait, +With her snare she seized me fast, + +And the boy was captured straight. + +Heav'n knows who's the happy swain + +That she rambles with anew! +I must dare the sea again, + +Spite of wind and weather too. +When the great and little fish + +Wail and flounder in my net, +Straight returns my eager wish + +In her arms to revel yet! + + 1815. +----- +MARCH. + +THE snow-flakes fall in showers, + +The time is absent still, +When all Spring's beauteous flowers, +When all Spring's beauteous flowers + +Our hearts with joy shall fill. + +With lustre false and fleeting + +The sun's bright rays are thrown; +The swallow's self is cheating: +The swallow's self is cheating, + +And why? He comes alone! + +Can I e'er feel delighted + +Alone, though Spring is near? +Yet when we are united, +Yet when we are united, + +The Summer will be here. + + 1817. +----- +APRIL. + +TELL me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking; + +For ye're saying something sweet, + +Fit the ravish'd ear to greet, +Eloquently, softly speaking. + +Yet I see now why ye're roving; + +For behind those eyes so bright, + +To itself abandon'd quite, +Lies a bosom, truthful, loving,-- + +One that it must fill with pleasure + +'Mongst so many, dull and blind, + +One true look at length to find, +That its worth can rightly treasure. + +Whilst I'm lost in studying ever + +To explain these cyphers duly,-- + +To unravel my looks truly +In return be your endeavour! + + 1820. +----- +MAY. + +LIGHT and silv'ry cloudlets hover + +In the air, as yet scarce warm; +Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over, + +Peeps the sun through fragrant balm. +Gently rolls and heaves the ocean + +As its waves the bank o'erflow. +And with ever restless motion + +Moves the verdure to and fro, + +Mirror'd brightly far below. + +What is now the foliage moving? + +Air is still, and hush'd the breeze, +Sultriness, this fullness loving, + +Through the thicket, from the trees. +Now the eye at once gleams brightly, + +See! the infant band with mirth +Moves and dances nimbly, lightly, + +As the morning gave it birth, + +Flutt'ring two and two o'er earth. + + * * * * + + 1816. +----- +JUNE. + +SHE behind yon mountain lives, +Who my love's sweet guerdon gives. +Tell me, mount, how this can be! +Very glass thou seem'st to me, +And I seem to be close by, +For I see her drawing nigh; +Now, because I'm absent, sad, +Now, because she sees me, glad! + +Soon between us rise to sight +Valleys cool, with bushes light, +Streams and meadows; next appear + +Mills and wheels, the surest token +That a level spot is near, + +Plains far-stretching and unbroken. +And so onwards, onwards roam, +To my garden and my home! + +But how comes it then to pass? +All this gives no joy, alas!-- +I was ravish'd by her sight, +By her eyes so fair and bright, +By her footstep soft and light. +How her peerless charms I praised, +When from head to foot I gazed! +I am here, she's far away,-- +I am gone, with her to stay. + +If on rugged hills she wander, + +If she haste the vale along, +Pinions seem to flutter yonder, + +And the air is fill'd with song; +With the glow of youth still playing, + +Joyous vigour in each limb, +One in silence is delaying, + +She alone 'tis blesses him. + +Love, thou art too fair, I ween! +Fairer I have never seen! +From the heart full easily +Blooming flowers are cull'd by thee. +If I think: "Oh, were it so," +Bone and marrow seen to glow! +If rewarded by her love, +Can I greater rapture prove? + +And still fairer is the bride, +When in me she will confide, +When she speaks and lets me know +All her tale of joy and woe. +All her lifetime's history +Now is fully known to me. +Who in child or woman e'er +Soul and body found so fair? + + 1815. +----- +NEXT YEAR'S SPRING. + +THE bed of flowers + +Loosens amain, +The beauteous snowdrops + +Droop o'er the plain. +The crocus opens + +Its glowing bud, +Like emeralds others, + +Others, like blood. +With saucy gesture + +Primroses flare, +And roguish violets, + +Hidden with care; +And whatsoever + +There stirs and strives, +The Spring's contented, + +If works and thrives. + +'Mongst all the blossoms + +That fairest are, +My sweetheart's sweetness + +Is sweetest far; +Upon me ever + +Her glances light, +My song they waken, + +My words make bright, +An ever open + +And blooming mind, +In sport, unsullied, + +In earnest, kind. +Though roses and lilies + +By Summer are brought, +Against my sweetheart + +Prevails he nought. + + 1816. +----- +AT MIDNIGHT HOUR. + +[Goethe relates that a remarkable situation he was in one bright +moonlight night led to the composition of this sweet song, which +was "the dearer to him because he could not say whence it came +and whither it would."] + +AT midnight hour I went, not willingly, + +A little, little boy, yon churchyard past, +To Father Vicar's house; the stars on high + +On all around their beauteous radiance cast, + + At midnight hour. + +And when, in journeying o'er the path of life, + +My love I follow'd, as she onward moved, +With stars and northern lights o'er head in strife, + + Going and coming, perfect bliss I proved + + At midnight hour. + +Until at length the full moon, lustre-fraught, + +Burst thro' the gloom wherein she was enshrined; +And then the willing, active, rapid thought + +Around the past, as round the future twined, + + At midnight hour. + + 1818. +----- +TO THE RISING FULL MOON. + +Dornburg, 25th August, 1828. + +WILT thou suddenly enshroud thee, + +Who this moment wert so nigh? +Heavy rising masses cloud thee, + +Thou art hidden from mine eye. + +Yet my sadness thou well knowest, + +Gleaming sweetly as a star! +That I'm loved, 'tis thou that showest, + +Though my loved one may be far. + +Upward mount then! clearer, milder, + +Robed in splendour far more bright! +Though my heart with grief throbs wilder, + +Fraught with rapture is the night! + + 1828. +----- +THE BRIDEGROOM.* + +(Not in the English sense of the word, but the German, where it +has the meaning of betrothed.) + +I SLEPT,--'twas midnight,--in my bosom woke, + +As though 'twere day, my love-o'erflowing heart; +To me it seemed like night, when day first broke; + +What is't to me, whate'er it may impart? + +She was away; the world's unceasing strife + +For her alone I suffer'd through the heat +Of sultry day; oh, what refreshing life + +At cooling eve!--my guerdon was complete. + +The sun now set, and wand'ring hand in hand, + +His last and blissful look we greeted then; +While spake our eyes, as they each other scann'd: + +"From the far east, let's trust, he'll come again!" + +At midnight!--the bright stars, in vision blest, + +Guide to the threshold where she slumbers calm: +Oh be it mine, there too at length to rest,-- + +Yet howsoe'er this prove, life's full of charm! + + 1828. +----- +SUCH, SUCH IS HE WHO PLEASETH ME. + +FLY, dearest, fly! He is not nigh! + +He who found thee one fair morn in Spring + +In the wood where thou thy flight didst wing. +Fly, dearest, fly! He is not nigh! +Never rests the foot of evil spy. + +Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains + +Reach the loved one, borne there by the wind, + +In the soft heart open doors they find. +Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains, +Hark!--yet blissful love their echo pains. + +Erect his head, and firm his tread, + +Raven hair around his smooth brow strays, + +On his cheeks a Spring eternal plays. +Erect his head, and firm his tread, +And by grace his ev'ry step is led. + +Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd, + +And the dark eyes 'neath his eyebrows placed, + +With full many a beauteous line are graced. +Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd, +Soon as seen, thy love must be confess'd. + +His mouth is red--its power I dread, + +On his lips morn's fragrant incense lies, + +Round his lips the cooling Zephyr sighs. +His mouth is red--its power I dread, +With one glance from him, all sorrow's fled. + +His blood is true, his heart bold too, + +In his soft arms, strength, protection, dwells + +And his face with noble pity swells. +His blood is true, his heart bold too, +Blest the one whom those dear arms may woo! + + 1816.. +----- +SICILIAN SONG. + +YE black and roguish eyes, + +If ye command. +Each house in ruins lies, + +No town can stand. +And shall my bosom's chain,-- + +This plaster wall,Ä +To think one moment, deign,-- + +Shall ii not fall? + + 1811. +----- +SWISS SONG, + +Up in th' mountain +I was a-sitting, +With the bird there +As my guest, +Blithely singing, +Blithely springing, +And building +His nest. + +In the garden +I was a-standing, +And the bee there +Saw as well, +Buzzing, humming, +Going, coming, +And building +His cell. + +O'er the meadow +I was a-going, +And there saw the +Butterflies, +Sipping, dancing, +Flying, glancing, +And charming +The eyes. + +And then came my +Dear Hansel, +And I show'd them +With glee, +Sipping, quaffing, +And he, laughing, +Sweet kisses +Gave me. + + 1811. +----- +FINNISH SONG. + +IF the loved one, the well-known one, +Should return as he departed, +On his lips would ring my kisses, +Though the wolf's blood might have dyed them; +And a hearty grasp I'd give him, +Though his finger-ends were serpents. + +Wind! Oh, if thou hadst but reason, +Word for word in turns thou'dst carry, +E'en though some perchance might perish +'Tween two lovers so far distant. + +All choice morsels I'd dispense with, +Table-flesh of priests neglect too, +Sooner than renounce my lover, +Whom, in Summer having vanquish'd, +I in Winter tamed still longer. + + 1810. +----- +GIPSY SONG. + +IN the drizzling mist, with the snow high-pil'd, +In the Winter night, in the forest wild, +I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl, +I heard the screaming note of the owl: + + Wille wau wau wau! + + Wille wo wo wo! + + Wito hu! + +I shot, one day, a cat in a ditch-- +The dear black cat of Anna the witch; +Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down, +Seven women they were, from out of the town. + + Wille wau wau wau! + + Wille wo wo wo! + + Wito hu! + +I knew them all; ay, I knew them straight; +First, Anna, then Ursula, Eve, and Kate, +And Barbara, Lizzy, and Bet as well; +And forming a ring, they began to yell: + + Wille wau wau wau! + + Wille wo wo wo! + + Wito hu! + +Then call'd I their names with angry threat: +"What wouldst thou, Anna? What wouldst thou, Bet?" +At hearing my voice, themselves they shook, +And howling and yelling, to flight they took. + + Wille wau wau wau! + + Wille wo wo wo! + + Wito hu! + + 1772. +----- +THE DESTRUCTION OF MAGDEBURG. + +[For a fine account of the fearful sack of Magdeburg, by Tilly, +in the year 1613, see SCHILLER's History of the Thirty Years' +War.] + +OH, Magdeberg the town! +Fair maids thy beauty crown, +Thy charms fair maids and matrons crown; +Oh, Magdeburg the town! + +Where all so blooming stands, +Advance fierce Tilly's bands; +O'er gardens and o'er well--till'd lands +Advance fierce Tilly's bands. + +Now Tilly's at the gate. +Our homes who'll liberate? +Go, loved one, hasten to the gate, +And dare the combat straight! + +There is no need as yet, +However fierce his threat; +Thy rosy cheeks I'll kiss, sweet pet! +There is no need as yet. + +My longing makes me pale. +Oh, what can wealth avail? +E'en now thy father may be pale. +Thou mak'st my courage fail. + +Oh, mother, give me bread! +Is then my father dead? +Oh, mother, one small crust of bread! +Oh, what misfortune dread! + +Thy father, dead lies he, +The trembling townsmen flee, +Adown the street the blood runs free; +Oh, whither shall we flee? + +The churches ruined lie, +The houses burn on high, +The roofs they smoke, the flames out fly, +Into the street then hie! + +No safety there they meet! +The soldiers fill the Street, +With fire and sword the wreck complete: +No safety there they meet! + +Down falls the houses' line, +Where now is thine or mine? +That bundle yonder is not thine, +Thou flying maiden mine! + +The women sorrow sore. +The maidens far, far more. +The living are no virgins more; +Thus Tilly's troops make war! +----- + +FAMILIAR SONGS. + +------ +What we sing in company +Soon from heart to heart will fly. +----- + +THE Gesellige Lieder, which I have angicisled as above, as +several of them cannot be called convivial songs, are separated +by Goethe from his other songs, and I have adhered to the same +arrangement. The Ergo bibamus is a well-known drinking song in +Germany, where it enjoys vast popularity. + +ON THE NEW YEAR. + +[Composed for a merry party that used to meet, in 1802, at +Goethe's house.] + +FATE now allows us, + +'Twixt the departing + +And the upstarting, +Happy to be; +And at the call of + +Memory cherish'd, + +Future and perish'd +Moments we see. + +Seasons of anguish,-- + +Ah, they must ever + +Truth from woe sever, +Love and joy part; +Days still more worthy + +Soon will unite us, + +Fairer songs light us, +Strength'ning the heart. + +We, thus united, + +Think of, with gladness, + +Rapture and sadness, +Sorrow now flies. +Oh, how mysterious + +Fortune's direction! + +Old the connection, + +New-born the prize! + +Thank, for this, Fortune, + +Wavering blindly! + +Thank all that kindly +Fate may bestow! +Revel in change's + +Impulses clearer, + +Love far sincerer, +More heartfelt glow! + +Over the old one, + +Wrinkles collected, + +Sad and dejected, +Others may view; +But, on us gently + +Shineth a true one, + +And to the new one +We, too, are new. + +As a fond couple + +'Midst the dance veering, + +First disappearing, +Then reappear, +So let affection + +Guide thro' life's mazy + +Pathways so hazy +Into the year! + + 1802. +----- +ANNIVERSARY SONG. + +[This little song describes the different members of the party +just spoken of.] + +WHY pacest thou, my neighbour fair, + +The garden all alone? +If house and land thou seek'st to guard, + +I'd thee as mistress own. + +My brother sought the cellar-maid, + +And suffered her no rest; +She gave him a refreshing draught, + +A kiss, too, she impress'd. + +My cousin is a prudent wight, + +The cook's by him ador'd; +He turns the spit round ceaselessly, + +To gain love's sweet reward. + +We six together then began + +A banquet to consume, +When lo! a fourth pair singing came, + +And danced into the room. + +Welcome were they,--and welcome too + +Was a fifth jovial pair. +Brimful of news, and stored with tales + +And jests both new and rare. + +For riddles, spirit, raillery, + +And wit, a place remain'd; +A sixth pair then our circle join'd, + +And so that prize was gain'd. + +And yet to make us truly blest, + +One miss'd we, and full sore; +A true and tender couple came,-- + +We needed them no more. + +The social banquet now goes on, + +Unchequer'd by alloy; +The sacred double-numbers then + +Let us at once enjoy! + + 1802. +----- +THE SPRING ORACLE. + +OH prophetic bird so bright, +Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight! +In the fairest time of year, +Dearest bird, oh! deign to hear +What a youthful pair would pray, +Do thou call, if hope they may: +Thy cuck-oo, thy cuck-oo. +Ever more cuck-oo, cuck-oo! + +Hearest thou? A loving pair +Fain would to the altar fare; +Yes! a pair in happy youth, +Full of virtue, full of truth. +Is the hour not fix'd by fate? +Say, how long must they still wait? +Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo! +Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo! + +'Tis not our fault, certainly! +Only two years patient be! +But if we ourselves please here, +Will pa-pa-papas appear? +Know that thou'lt more kindness do us, +More thou'lt prophesy unto us. +One! cuck-oo! Two! cuck-oo! +Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo! + +If we've calculated clearly, +We have half a dozen nearly. +If good promises we'll give, +Wilt thou say how long we'II live? +Truly, we'll confess to thee, +We'd prolong it willingly. +Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo, +Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo! + +Life is one continued feast-- +(If we keep no score, at least). +If now we together dwell, +Will true love remain as well? +For if that should e'er decay, +Happiness would pass away. +Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo, +Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo! + + 1803.* +(Gracefully in infinitum.) +----- +THE HAPPY COUPLE. + +AFTER these vernal rains + +That we so warmly sought, +Dear wife, see how our plains + +With blessings sweet are fraught! +We cast our distant gaze + +Far in the misty blue; +Here gentle love still strays, + +Here dwells still rapture true. + +Thou seest whither go + +Yon pair of pigeons white, +Where swelling violets blow + +Round sunny foliage bright. +'Twas there we gather'd first + +A nosegay as we roved; +There into flame first burst + +The passion that we proved. + +Yet when, with plighted troth, + +The priest beheld us fare +Home from the altar both, + +With many a youthful pair,-- +Then other moons had birth, + +And many a beauteous sun, +Then we had gain'd the earth + +Whereon life's race to run. + +A hundred thousand fold + +The mighty bond was seal'd; +In woods, on mountains cold, + +In bushes, in the field, +Within the wall, in caves, + +And on the craggy height, +And love, e'en o'er the waves, + +Bore in his tube the light. + +Contented we remain'd, + +We deem'd ourselves a pair; +'Twas otherwise ordain'd, + +For, lo! a third was there; +A fourth, fifth, sixth appear'd, + +And sat around our board; +And now the plants we've rear'd + +High o'er our heads have soar'd! + +How fair and pleasant looks, + +On yonder beauteous spot, +Embraced by poplar-brooks, + +The newly-finish'd cot! +Who is it there that sits + +In that glad home above? +Is't not our darling Fritz + +With his own darling love? + +Beside yon precipice, + +Whence pent-up waters steal, +And leaving the abyss, + +Fall foaming through the wheel, +Though people often tell + +Of millers' wives so fair, +Yet none can e'er excel + +Our dearest daughter there! + +Yet where the thick-set green + +Stands round yon church and sad, +Where the old fir-tree's seen + +Alone tow'rd heaven to nod,-- +'Tis there the ashes lie + +Of our untimely dead; +From earth our gaze on high + +By their blest memory's led. + +See how yon hill is bright + +With billowy-waving arms! +The force returns, whose might + +Has vanquished war's alarms. +Who proudly hastens here + +With wreath-encircled brow? +'Tis like our child so dear + +Thus Charles comes homeward now. + +That dearest honour'd guest + +Is welcom'd by the bride; +She makes the true one blest, + +At the glad festal tide. +And ev'ry one makes haste + +To join the dance with glee; +While thou with wreaths hast graced + +The youngest children three. + +To sound of flute and horn + +The time appears renew'd, +When we, in love's young morn, + +In the glad dance upstood; +And perfect bliss I know + +Ere the year's course is run, +For to the font we go + +With grandson and with son! + + 1803.* +----- +SONG OF FELLOWSHIP. + +[Written and sung in honour of the birthday of the Pastor Ewald +at the time of Goethe's happy connection with Lily.] + +IN ev'ry hour of joy + +That love and wine prolong, +The moments we'll employ + +To carol forth this song! +We're gathered in His name, + + Whose power hath brought us here; +He kindled first our flame, + +He bids it burn more clear. + +Then gladly glow to-night, + +And let our hearts combine! +Up! quaff with fresh delight + +This glass of sparkling wine! +Up! hail the joyous hour, + +And let your kiss be true; +With each new bond of power + +The old becomes the new! + +Who in our circle lives, + +And is not happy there? +True liberty it gives, + +And brother's love so fair. +Thus heart and heart through life + +With mutual love are fill'd; +And by no causeless strife + +Our union e'er is chill'd. + +Our hopes a God has crown'd + +With life-discernment free, +And all we view around, + +Renews our ecstasy. +Ne'er by caprice oppress'd, + +Our bliss is ne'er destroy'd; +More freely throbs our breast, + +By fancies ne'er alloy'd. + +Where'er our foot we set, + +The more life's path extends, +And brighter, brighter yet + +Our gaze on high ascends. +We know no grief or pain, + +Though all things fall and rise; +Long may we thus remain! + +Eternal be our ties! + + 1775. +----- +CONSTANCY IN CHANGE. + +COULD this early bliss but rest + +Constant for one single hour! +But e'en now the humid West + +Scatters many a vernal shower. +Should the verdure give me joy? + +'Tis to it I owe the shade; +Soon will storms its bloom destroy, + +Soon will Autumn bid it fade. + +Eagerly thy portion seize, + +If thou wouldst possess the fruit! +Fast begin to ripen these, + +And the rest already shoot. +With each heavy storm of rain + +Change comes o'er thy valley fair; +Once, alas! but not again + +Can the same stream hold thee e'er. + +And thyself, what erst at least + +Firm as rocks appear'd to rise, +Walls and palaces thou seest + +But with ever-changing eyes. +Fled for ever now the lip + +That with kisses used to glow, +And the foot, that used to skip + +O'er the mountain, like the roe. + +And the hand, so true and warm, + +Ever raised in charity, +And the cunning-fashion'd form,-- + +All are now changed utterly. +And what used to bear thy name, + +When upon yon spot it stood, +Like a rolling billow came, + +Hast'ning on to join the flood. + +Be then the beginning found + +With the end in unison, +Swifter than the forms around + +Are themselves now fleeting on! +Thank the merit in thy breast, + +Thank the mould within thy heart, +That the Muses' favour blest +Ne'er will perish, ne'er depart. + + 1803.* +----- +TABLE SONG. + +[Composed for the merry party already mentioned, on the occasion +of the departure for France of the hereditary prince, who was one +of the number, and who is especially alluded to in the 3rd +verse.] + +O'ER me--how I cannot say,-- + +Heav'nly rapture's growing. +Will it help to guide my way + +To yon stars all-glowing? +Yet that here I'd sooner be, + +To assert I'm able, +Where, with wine and harmony, + +I may thump the table. + +Wonder not, my dearest friends, + +What 'tis gives me pleasure; +For of all that earth e'er lends, + +'Tis the sweetest treasure. +Therefore solemnly I swear, + +With no reservation, +That maliciously I'll ne'er + +Leave my present station. + +Now that here we're gather'd round, + +Chasing cares and slumbers, +Let, methought, the goblet sound + +To the bard's glad numbers! +Many a hundred mile away, + +Go those we love dearly; +Therefore let us here to-day + +Make the glass ring clearly! + +Here's His health, through Whom we live! + +I that faith inherit. +To our king the next toast give, + +Honour is his merit, +'Gainst each in-- and outward foe + +He's our rock and tower. +Of his maintenance thinks he though, + +More that grows his power. + +Next to her good health I drink, + +Who has stirr'd my passion; +Of his mistress let each think, + +Think in knightly fashion. +If the beauteous maid but see + +Whom 'tis I now call so, +Let her smiling nod to me: + +"Here's my love's health also!" + +To those friends,--the two or three,-- + +Be our next toast given, +In whose presence revel we, + +In the silent even,-- +Who the gloomy mist so cold + +Scatter gently, lightly; +To those friends, then, new or old, + +Let the toast ring brightly. + +Broader now the stream rolls on, + +With its waves more swelling, +While in higher, nobler tone, + +Comrades, we are dwelling,-- +We who with collected might, + +Bravely cling together, +Both in fortune's sunshine bright, + +And in stormy weather. + +Just as we are gather'd thus, + +Others are collected; +On them, therefore, as on us, + +Be Fate's smile directed! +From the springhead to the sea, + +Many a mill's revolving, +And the world's prosperity + +Is the task I'm solving. + + 1802. +----- +WONT AND DONE. + +I HAVE loved; for the first time with passion I rave! +I then was the servant, but now am the slave; + + I then was the servant of all: +By this creature so charming I now am fast bound, +To love and love's guerdon she turns all around, + + And her my sole mistress I call. + +l've had faith; for the first time my faith is now strong! +And though matters go strangely, though matters go wrong, + + To the ranks of the faithful I'm true: +Though ofttimes 'twas dark and though ofttimes 'twas drear, +In the pressure of need, and when danger was near, + + Yet the dawning of light I now view. + +I have eaten; but ne'er have thus relish'd my food! +For when glad are the senses, and joyous the blood, + + At table all else is effaced +As for youth, it but swallows, then whistles an air; +As for me, to a jovial resort I'd repair, + + Where to eat, and enjoy what I taste. + +I have drunk; but have never thus relish'd the bowl! +For wine makes us lords, and enlivens the soul, + + And loosens the trembling slave's tongue. +Let's not seek to spare then the heart-stirring drink, +For though in the barrel the old wine may sink, + + In its place will fast mellow the young. + +I have danced, and to dancing am pledged by a vow! +Though no caper or waltz may be raved about now, + + In a dance that's becoming, whirl round. +And he who a nosegay of flowers has dress'd, +And cares not for one any more than the rest, + + With a garland of mirth is aye crown'd. + +Then once more be merry, and banish all woes! +For he who but gathers the blossoming rose. + + By its thorns will be tickled alone. +To-day still, as yesterday, glimmers the star; +Take care from all heads that hang down to keep far, + + And make but the future thine own. + + 1813. +----- +GENERAL CONFESSION. + +In this noble ring to-day + +Let my warning shame ye! +Listen to my solemn voice,-- + +Seldom does it name ye. +Many a thing have ye intended, + +Many a thing have badly ended, +And now I must blame ye. + +At some moment in our lives + +We must all repent us! +So confess, with pious trust, + +All your sins momentous! +Error's crooked pathways shunning. + +Let us, on the straight road running, +Honestly content us! + +Yes! we've oft, when waking, dream'd, + +Let's confess it rightly; +Left undrain'd the brimming cup, + +When it sparkled brightly; +Many a shepherd's-hour's soft blisses, + +Many a dear mouth's flying kisses +We've neglected lightly. + +Mute and silent have we sat, + +Whilst the blockheads prated, +And above e'en song divine + +Have their babblings rated; +To account we've even call'd us + +For the moments that enthrall'd us, +With enjoyment freighted. + +If thou'lt absolution grant + +To thy true ones ever, +We, to execute thy will, + +Ceaseless will endeavour, +From half-measures strive to wean us, + +Wholly, fairly, well demean us, +Resting, flagging never. + +At all blockheads we'll at once + +Let our laugh ring clearly, +And the pearly-foaming wine + +Never sip at merely. +Ne'er with eye alone give kisses, + +But with boldness suck in blisses +From those lips loved dearly. + + 1803.* +----- +COPTIC SONG. + +LEAVE we the pedants to quarrel and strive, + +Rigid and cautious the teachers to be! +All of the wisest men e'er seen alive + +Smile, nod, and join in the chorus with me: +"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly! +Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,-- + +Children of wisdom,--remember the word!" + +Merlin the old, from his glittering grave, +When I, a stripling, once spoke to him,--gave + +Just the same answer as that I've preferr'd; +"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly! +Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,-- + +Children of wisdom,--remember the word!" + +And on the Indian breeze as it booms, +And in the depths of Egyptian tombs, + +Only the same holy saying I've heard: +"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly! +Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,-- + +Children of wisdom,--remember the word!" + + 1789.* +----- +ANOTHER. + +Go! obedient to my call, + +Turn to profit thy young days, + + Wiser make betimes thy breast + +In Fate's balance as it sways, + + Seldom is the cock at rest; +Thou must either mount, or fall, + +Thou must either rule and win, + +Or submissively give in, +Triumph, or else yield to clamour: +Be the anvil or the hammer. + + 1789. +----- +VANITAS! VANITATUM VANITAS! + +MY trust in nothing now is placed, + + Hurrah! +So in the world true joy I taste, + + Hurrah! +Then he who would be a comrade of mine +Must rattle his glass, and in chorus combine, +Over these dregs of wine. + +I placed my trust in gold and wealth, + + Hurrah! +But then I lost all joy and health, + + Lack-a-day! +Both here and there the money roll'd, +And when I had it here, behold, +From there had fled the gold! + +I placed my trust in women next, + + Hurrah! +But there in truth was sorely vex'd, + + Lack-a-day! +The False another portion sought, +The True with tediousness were fraught, +The Best could not be bought. + +My trust in travels then I placed, + + Hurrah! +And left my native land in haste. + + Lack-a-day! +But not a single thing seem'd good, +The beds were bad, and strange the food, +And I not understood. + +I placed my trust in rank and fame, + + Hurrah! +Another put me straight to shame, + + Lack-a-day! +And as I had been prominent, +All scowl'd upon me as I went, +I found not one content. + +I placed my trust in war and fight, + + Hurrah! +We gain'd full many a triumph bright, + + Hurrah! +Into the foeman's land we cross'd, +We put our friends to equal cost, +And there a leg I lost. + +My trust is placed in nothing now, + + Hurrah! +At my command the world must bow, + + Hurrah! +And as we've ended feast and strain, +The cup we'll to the bottom drain; +No dregs must there remain! + + 1806. +----- +FORTUNE OF WAR. + +NOUGHT more accursed in war I know + +Than getting off scot-free; +Inured to danger, on we go + +In constant victory; +We first unpack, then pack again, + +With only this reward, +That when we're marching, we complain, + +And when in camp, are bor'd. + +The time for billeting comes next,-- + +The peasant curses it; +Each nobleman is sorely vex'd, + +'Tis hated by the cit. +Be civil, bad though be thy food, + +The clowns politely treat; +If to our hosts we're ever rude, + +Jail-bread we're forced to eat. + +And when the cannons growl around, + +And small arms rattle clear, +And trumpet, trot, and drum resound, + +We merry all appear; +And as it in the fight may chance, + +We yield, then charge amain, +And now retire, and now advance, + +And yet a cross ne'er gain. + +At length there comes a musket-ball, + +And hits the leg, please Heaven; +And then our troubles vanish all, + +For to the town we're driven, +(Well cover'd by the victor's force,) + +Where we in wrath first came,-- +The women, frightened then, of course, + +Are loving now and tame. + +Cellar and heart are open'd wide, + +The cook's allow'd no rest; +While beds with softest down supplied + +Are by our members press'd. +The nimble lads upon us wait, + +No sleep the hostess takes +Her shift is torn in pieces straight,-- + +What wondrous lint it makes! + +If one has tended carefully + +The hero's wounded limb, +Her neighbour cannot rest, for she + +Has also tended him. +A third arrives in equal haste, + +At length they all are there, +And in the middle he is placed + +Of the whole band so fair! + +On good authority the king + +Hears how we love the fight, +And bids them cross and ribbon bring, + +Our coat and breast to dight. +Say if a better fate can e'er + +A son of Mars pursue! +'Midst tears at length we go from there, + +Beloved and honour'd too. + + 1814. +----- +OPEN TABLE. + +MANY a guest I'd see to-day, + +Met to taste my dishes! +Food in plenty is prepar'd, + +Birds, and game, and fishes. +Invitations all have had, + +All proposed attending. +Johnny, go and look around! + +Are they hither wending? + +Pretty girls I hope to see, + +Dear and guileless misses, +Ignorant how sweet it is + +Giving tender kisses. +Invitations all have had, + +All proposed attending. +Johnny, go and look around! + +Are they hither wending? + +Women also I expect, + +Loving tow'rd their spouses, +Whose rude grumbling in their breasts + +Greater love but rouses. +Invitations they've had too, + +All proposed attending! +Johnny, go and look around! + +Are they hither wending? + +I've too ask'd young gentlemen, + +Who are far from haughty, +And whose purses are well-stock'd, + +Well-behaved, not haughty. +These especially I ask'd, + +All proposed attending. +Johnny, go and look around! + +Are they hither wending? + +Men I summon'd with respect, + +Who their own wives treasure; +Who in ogling other Fair + +Never take a pleasure. +To my greetings they replied, + +All proposed attending. +Johnny, go and look around! + +Are they hither wending? + +Then to make our joy complete, + +Poets I invited, +Who love other's songs far more + +Than what they've indited. +All acceded to my wish, + +All proposed attending. +Johnny, go and look around! + +Are they hither wending? + +Not a single one appears, + +None seem this way posting. +All the soup boils fast away, + +Joints are over-roasting. +Ah, I fear that we have been + +Rather too unbending! +Johnny, tell me what you think! + +None are hither wending. + +Johnny, run and quickly bring + +Other guests to me now! +Each arriving as he is-- + +That's the plan, I see now. +In the town at once 'tis known, + +Every one's commending. +Johnny, open all the doors: + +All are hither wending! + + 1815.* +----- +THE RECKONING. + +LEADER. + +LET no cares now hover o'er us + +Let the wine unsparing run! +Wilt thou swell our merry chorus? + +Hast thou all thy duty done? + +SOLO. + +Two young folks--the thing is curious-- + +Loved each other; yesterday +Both quite mild, to-day quite furious, + +Next day, quite the deuce to pay! +If her neck she there was stooping, + +He must here needs pull his hair. +I revived their spirits drooping, + +And they're now a happy pair. + +CHORUS. + +Surely we for wine may languish! + +Let the bumper then go round! +For all sighs and groans of anguish + +Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd. + +SOLO. + +Why, young orphan, all this wailing? + +"Would to heaven that I were dead! +For my guardian's craft prevailing + +Soon will make me beg my bread." +Knowing well the rascal genus, + +Into court I dragg'd the knave; +Fair the judges were between us, + +And the maiden's wealth did save. + +CHORUS. + +Surely we for wine may languish! + +Let the bumper then go round! +For all sighs and groans of anguish + +Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd. + +SOLO. + +To a little fellow, quiet, + +Unpretending and subdued, +Has a big clown, running riot, + +Been to-day extremely rude. +I bethought me of my duty, + +And my courage swell'd apace, +So I spoil'd the rascal's beauty, + +Slashing him across the face. + +CHORUS. + +Surely we for wine may languish! + +Let the bumper then go round! +For all sighs and groans of anguish + +Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd. + +SOLO. + +Brief must be my explanation, + +For I really have done nought. +Free from trouble and vexation, + +I a landlord's business bought. +There I've done, with all due ardour, + +All that duty order'd me; +Each one ask'd me for the larder, + +And there was no scarcity. + +CHORUS. + +Surely we for wine may languish! + +Let the bumper then go round! +For all sighs and groans of anguish + +Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd. + +LEADER. + +Each should thus make proclamation + +Of what he did well to-day! +That's the match whose conflagration + +Should inflame our tuneful lay. +Let it be our precept ever + +To admit no waverer here! +For to act the good endeavour, + +None but rascals meek appear. + +CHORUS. + +Surely we for wine may languish! + +Let the bumper then go round! +For all sighs and groans of anguish + +We have now in rapture drown'd. + +TRIO. + +Let each merry minstrel enter, + +He's right welcome to our hall! +'Tis but with the selfÄtormentor + +That we are not liberal; + +For we fear that his caprices, + +That his eye-brows dark and sad, +That his grief that never ceases + +Hide an empty heart, or bad. + +CHORUS. + +No one now for wine shall languish! + +Here no minstrel shall be found, +Who all sighs and groans of anguish, + +Has not first in rapture drown'd! + + 1810. +----- +ERGO BIBAMUS! + +FOR a praiseworthy object we're now gather'd here, + + So, brethren, sing: ERGO BIBAMUS! +Tho' talk may be hush'd, yet the glasses ring clear, + + Remember then: ERGO BIBAMUS! +In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word, +With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirr'd, +And an echo the festal hall filling is heard, + + A glorious ERGO BIBAMUS! + +I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare, + + And bethought me of: ERGO BIBAMUS; +So I gently approach'd, and she let me stand there, + + While I help'd myself, thinking: BIBAMUS! +And when she's appeased, and will clasp you and kiss, +Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss, +Take refuge, till sound is some worthier bliss, + + In the comforting ERGO BIBAMUS! + +I am call'd by my fate far away from each friend; + + Ye loved ones, then: ERGO BIBAMUS! +With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend. + + So double our ERGO BIBAMUS! +Whate'er to his treasures the niggard may add, +Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had, +For gladness lends over its charms to the glad, + + So, brethren, sing; ERGO BIBAMUS! + +And what shall we say of to-day as it flies? + + I thought but of: ERGO BIBAMUS +'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise, + + So again and again sing: BIBAMUS! +For joy through a wide-open portal it guides, +Bright glitter the clouds, as the curtain divides, +An a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides, + + While we thunder our: ERGO BIBAMUS! + + 1810. +----- +EPIPHANIAS. + +THE three holy kings with their star's bright ray,-- +They eat and they drink, but had rather not pay; +They like to eat and drink away, +They eat and drink, but had rather not pay. + +The three holy kings have all come here, +In number not four, but three they appear; +And if a fourth join'd the other three, +Increased by one their number would be. + +The first am I,--the fair and the white, +I ought to be seen when the sun shines bright! +But, alas! with all my spices and myrrh, +No girl now likes me,--I please not her. + +The next am I,--the brown and the long, +Known well to women, known well to song. +Instead of spices, 'tis gold I bear, +And so I'm welcome everywhere. + +The last am I,--the black and small, +And fain would be right merry withal. +I like to eat and to drink full measure, +I eat and drink, and give thanks with pleasure. + +The three holy kings are friendly and mild, +They seek the Mother, and seek the Child; +The pious Joseph is sitting by, +The ox and the ass on their litter lie. + +We're bringing gold, we're bringing myrrh, +The women incense always prefer; +And if we have wine of a worthy growth, +We three to drink like six are not loth. + +As here we see fair lads and lasses, +But not a sign of oxen or asses, +We know that we have gone astray +And so go further on our way. +----- + +BALLADS. + +----- +Poet's art is ever able +To endow with truth mere fable. +---- +MIGNON. +[This universally known poem is also to be found in Wilhelm +Meister.] + +KNOW'ST thou the land where the fair citron blows, +Where the bright orange midst the foliage glows, +Where soft winds greet us from the azure skies, +Where silent myrtles, stately laurels rise, +Know'st thou it well? + + 'Tis there, 'tis there, +That I with thee, beloved one, would repair. + +Know'st thou the house? On columns rests its pile, +Its halls are gleaming, and its chambers smile, +And marble statues stand and gaze on me: +"Poor child! what sorrow hath befallen thee?" +Know'st thou it well? + + 'Tis there, 'tis there, +That I with thee, protector, would repair! + +Know'st thou the mountain, and its cloudy bridge? +The mule can scarcely find the misty ridge; +In caverns dwells the dragon's olden brood, +The frowning crag obstructs the raging flood. +Know'st thou it well? + + 'Tis there, 'tis there, +Our path lies--Father--thither, oh repair! + + 1795.* +----- +THE MINSTREL. + +[This fine poem is introduced in the second book of Wilhelm +Meister.] + +"WHAT tuneful strains salute mine ear + +Without the castle walls? +Oh, let the song re-echo here, + +Within our festal halls!" +Thus spake the king, the page out-hied; +The boy return'd; the monarch cried: + +"Admit the old man yonder!" + +"All hail, ye noble lords to-night! + +All hail, ye beauteous dames! +Star placed by star! What heavenly sight! + +Whoe'er can tell their names? +Within this glittering hall sublime, +Be closed, mine eyes! 'tis not the time + +For me to feast my wonder." + +The minstrel straightway closed his eyes, + +And woke a thrilling tone; +The knights look'd on in knightly guise, + +Fair looks tow'rd earth were thrown. +The monarch, ravish'd by the strain, +Bade them bring forth a golden chain, + +To be his numbers' guerdon. + +"The golden chain give not to me, + +But give the chain to those +In whose bold face we shiver'd see + +The lances of our foes. +Or give it to thy chancellor there; +With other burdens he may bear + +This one more golden burden. + +"I sing, like birds of blithesome note, + +That in the branches dwell; +The song that rises from the throat + +Repays the minstrel well. +One boon I'd crave, if not too bold-- +One bumper in a cup of gold + +Be as my guerdon given." + +The bowl he raised, the bowl he quaff'd: + +"Oh drink, with solace fraught! +Oh, house thrice-blest, where such a draught + +A trifling gift is thought! +When Fortune smiles, remember me, +And as I thank you heartily, + +As warmly thank ye Heaven!" + + 1795.* +----- +BALLAD + +OF THE BANISHED AND RETURNING COUNT. + +[Goethe began to write an opera called Lowenstuhl, founded upon +the old tradition which forms the subject of this Ballad, but he +never carried out his design.] + +OH, enter old minstrel, thou time-honour'd one! +We children are here in the hall all alone, + +The portals we straightway will bar. +Our mother is praying, our father is gone + +To the forest, on wolves to make war. +Oh sing us a ballad, the tale then repeat, + +'Till brother and I learn it right; +We long have been hoping a minstrel to meet, + +For children hear tales with delight. + +"At midnight, when darkness its fearful veil weaves, +His lofty and stately old castle he leaves, + +But first he has buried his wealth. +What figure is that in his arms one perceives, + +As the Count quits the gateway by stealth? +O'er what is his mantle so hastily thrown? + +What bears he along in his flight? +A daughter it is, and she gently sleeps on"-- + +The children they hear with delight. + +"The morning soon glimmers. the world is so wide, +In valleys and forests a home is supplied, + +The bard in each village is cheer'd. +Thus lives he and wanders, while years onward glide, + +And longer still waxes his beard; +But the maiden so fair in his arms grows amain, + +'Neath her star all-protecting and bright, +Secured in the mantle from wind and from rain--" + +The children they hear with delight. + +"And year upon year with swift footstep now steals, +The mantle it fades, many rents it reveals, + +The maiden no more it can hold. +The father he sees her, what rapture he feels! + +His joy cannot now be controll'd. +How worthy she seems of the race whence she springs, + +How noble and fair to the sight! +What wealth to her dearly-loved father she brings!"-- + +The children they hear with delight. + +"Then comes there a princely knight galloping by, +She stretches her hand out, as soon as he's nigh, + +But alms he refuses to give. +He seizes her hand, with a smile in his eye: + +'Thou art mine!' he exclaims, 'while I live!' +'When thou know'st,' cries the old man, 'the treasure that's +there, + +A princess thou'lt make her of right; +Betroth'd be she now, on this spot green and fair--'" + +The children they hear with delight. + +"So she's bless'd by the priest on the hallowed place, +And she goes with a smiling but sorrowful face, + +From her father she fain would not part. +The old man still wanders with ne'er-changing pace, + +He covers with joy his sad heart. +So I think of my daughter, as years pass away, + +And my grandchildren far from my sight; +I bless them by night, and I bless them by day"-- + +The children they hear with delight. + +He blesses the children: a knocking they hear, +The father it is! They spring forward in fear, + +The old man they cannot conceal-- +"Thou beggar, wouldst lure, then, my children so dear? + +Straight seize him, ye vassals of steel! +To the dungeon most deep, with the fool-hardy knave!" + +The mother from far hears the fight; +She hastens with flatt'ring entreaty to crave-- + +The children they hear with delight. + +The vassals they suffer the Bard to stand there, +And mother and children implore him to spare, + +The proud prince would stifle his ire, +'Till driven to fury at hearing their prayer, + +His smouldering anger takes fire: +"Thou pitiful race! Oh, thou beggarly crew! + +Eclipsing my star, once so bright! +Ye'll bring me destruction, ye sorely shall rue!" + +The children they hear with affright. + +The old man still stands there with dignified mien, +The vassals of steel quake before him, I ween, + +The Count's fury increases in power; +"My wedded existence a curse long has been, + +And these are the fruits from that flower! +'Tis ever denied, and the saying is true, + +That to wed with the base-born is right; +The beggar has borne me a beggarly crew,--" + +The children they hear with affright. + +"If the husband, the father, thus treats you with scorn, +If the holiest bonds by him rashly are torn, + +Then come to your father--to me! +The beggar may gladden life's pathway forlorn, + +Though aged and weak he may be. +This castle is mine! thou hast made it thy prey, + +Thy people 'twas put me to flight; +The tokens I bear will confirm what I say"-- + +The children they hear with delight. + +"The king who erst govern'd returneth again, +And restores to the Faithful the goods that were ta'en, + +I'll unseal all my treasures the while; +The laws shall be gentle, and peaceful the reign"-- + +The old man thus cries with a smile-- +"Take courage, my son! all hath turned out for good, + +And each hath a star that is bright, +Those the princess hath borne thee are princely in blood,"-- + +The children thy hear with delight. + + 1816. +----- +THE VIOLET. + +UPON the mead a violet stood, +Retiring, and of modest mood, + +In truth, a violet fair. +Then came a youthful shepherdess, +And roam'd with sprightly joyousness, +And blithely woo'd + +With carols sweet the air + +"Ah!" thought the violet, "had I been +For but the smallest moment e'en + +Nature's most beauteous flower, +'Till gather'd by my love, and press'd, +When weary, 'gainst her gentle breast, +For e'en, for e'en + +One quarter of an hour!" + +Alas! alas! the maid drew nigh, +The violet failed to meet her eye, + +She crush'd the violet sweet. +It sank and died, yet murmur'd not: +"And if I die, oh, happy lot, +For her I die, + +And at her very feet!" + + 1775.* +----- +THE FAITHLESS BOY. + +THERE was a wooer blithe and gay, + +A son of France was he,-- +Who in his arms for many a day, + +As though his bride were she, +A poor young maiden had caress'd, +And fondly kiss'd, and fondly press'd, + +And then at length deserted. + +When this was told the nut-brown maid, + +Her senses straightway fled; +She laugh'd and wept, and vow'd and pray'd, + +And presently was dead. +The hour her soul its farewell took, +The boy was sad, with terror shook, + +Then sprang upon his charger. + +He drove his spurs into his side, + +And scour'd the country round; +But wheresoever he might ride, + +No rest for him was found. +For seven long days and nights he rode, +It storm'd, the waters overflow'd, + +It bluster'd, lighten'd, thunder'd. + +On rode he through the tempest's din, + +Till he a building spied; +In search of shelter crept he in, + +When he his steed had tied. +And as he groped his doubtful way, +The ground began to rock and sway,-- + +He fell a hundred fathoms. + +When he recover'd from the blow, + +He saw three lights pass by; +He sought in their pursuit to go, + +The lights appear'd to fly. +They led his footsteps all astray, +Up, down, through many a narrow way + +Through ruin'd desert cellars. + +When lo! he stood within a hall, + +With hollow eyes. and grinning all; +They bade him taste the fare. + +A hundred guests sat there. +He saw his sweetheart 'midst the throng, +Wrapp'd up in grave-clothes white and long; + +She turn'd, and----* + + 1774. +(* This ballad is introduced in Act II. of Claudine of Villa +Bella, where it is suddenly broken off, as it is here.) +----- +THE ERL-KING. + +WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear? +The father it is, with his infant so dear; +He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm, +He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm. + +"My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?" +"Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side! +Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?" +"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain." + +"Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me! +Full many a game I will play there with thee; +On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold, +My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold." + +"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear +The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?" +"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives; +'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves." + +"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there? +My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care +My daughters by night their glad festival keep, +They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep." + +"My father, my father, and dost thou not see, +How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?" +"My darling, my darling, I see it aright, +'Tis the aged grey willows deceiving thy sight." + +"I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy! +And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ." +"My father, my father, he seizes me fast, +Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last." + +The father now gallops, with terror half wild, +He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child; +He reaches his courtyard with toil and with dread,-- +The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead. + + 1782.* +----- +JOHANNA SEBUS. + +[To the memory of an excellent and beautiful girl of 17, +belonging to the village of Brienen, who perished on the 13th of +January, 1809, whilst giving help on the occasion of the breaking +up of the ice on the Rhine, and the bursting of the dam of +Cleverham.] + +THE DAM BREAKS DOWN, THE ICE-PLAIN GROWLS, +THE FLOODS ARISE, THE WATER HOWLS. + +"I'll bear thee, mother, across the swell, + +'Tis not yet high, I can wade right well." + +"Remember us too! in what danger are we! + +Thy fellow-lodger, and children three! + +The trembling woman!--Thou'rt going away!" + +She bears the mother across the spray. + +"Quick! haste to the mound, and awhile there wait, + +I'll soon return, and all will be straight. + +The mound's close by, and safe from the wet; + +But take my goat too, my darling pet!" + +THE DAM DISSOLVES, THE ICE-PLAIN GROWLS, +THE FLOODS DASH ON, THE WATER HOWLS. + +She places the mother safe on the shore; + +Fair Susan then turns tow'rd the flood once more. + +"Oh whither? Oh whither? The breadth fast grows, + +Both here and there the water o'erflows. + +Wilt venture, thou rash one, the billows to brave?" +"THEY SHALL, AND THEY MUST BE PRESERVED FROM THE WAVE!" + +THE DAM DISAPPEARS, THE WATER GROWLS, +LIKE OCEAN BILLOWS IT HEAVES AND HOWLS. + +Fair Susan returns by the way she had tried, + +The waves roar around, but she turns not aside; + +She reaches the mound, and the neighbour straight, + +But for her and the children, alas, too late! + +THE DAM DISAPPEAR'D,--LIKE A SEA IT GROWLS, +ROUND THE HILLOCK IN CIRCLING EDDIES IT HOWLS. + +The foaming abyss gapes wide, and whirls round, + +The women and children are borne to the ground; + +The horn of the goat by one is seized fast, + +But, ah, they all must perish at last! + +Fair Susan still stands-there, untouch'd by the wave; + +The youngest, the noblest, oh, who now will save? + +Fair Susan still stands there, as bright as a star, + +But, alas! all hope, all assistance is far. + +The foaming waters around her roar, + +To save her, no bark pushes off from the shore. + +Her gaze once again she lifts up to Heaven, + +Then gently away by the flood she is driven. + +NO DAM, NO PLAIN! TO MARK THE PLACE +SOME STRAGGLING TREES ARE THE ONLY TRACE. + +The rushing water the wilderness covers, + +Yet Susan's image still o'er it hovers.-- + +The water sinks, the plains re-appear. + +Fair Susan's lamented with many a tear,-- + +May he who refuses her story to tell, + +Be neglected in life and in death as well! + + 1809. +----- +THE FISHERMAN. + +THE waters rush'd, the waters rose, + +A fisherman sat by, +While on his line in calm repose + +He cast his patient eye. +And as he sat, and hearken'd there, + +The flood was cleft in twain, +And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair + +Sprang from the troubled main. + +She sang to him, and spake the while: + +"Why lurest thou my brood, +With human wit and human guile + +From out their native flood? +Oh, couldst thou know how gladly dart + +The fish across the sea, +Thou wouldst descend, e'en as thou art, + +And truly happy be! + +"Do not the sun and moon with grace + +Their forms in ocean lave? +Shines not with twofold charms their face, + +When rising from the wave? +The deep, deep heavens, then lure thee not,-- + +The moist yet radiant blue,-- +Not thine own form,--to tempt thy lot + +'Midst this eternal dew?" + +The waters rush'd, the waters rose, + +Wetting his naked feet; +As if his true love's words were those, + +His heart with longing beat. +She sang to him, to him spake she, + +His doom was fix'd, I ween; +Half drew she him, and half sank he, + +And ne'er again was seen. + + 1779.* +----- +THE KING OF THULE.* + +(* This ballad is also introduced in Faust, where it is sung by +Margaret.) + +IN Thule lived a monarch, + +Still faithful to the grave, +To whom his dying mistress + +A golden goblet gave. + +Beyond all price he deem'd it, + +He quaff'd it at each feast; +And, when he drain'd that goblet, + +His tears to flow ne'er ceas'd. + +And when he felt death near him, + +His cities o'er he told, +And to his heir left all things, + +But not that cup of gold. + +A regal banquet held he + +In his ancestral ball, +In yonder sea-wash'd castle, + +'Mongst his great nobles all. + +There stood the aged reveller, + +And drank his last life's-glow,-- +Then hurl'd the holy goblet + +Into the flood below. + +He saw it falling, filling, + +And sinking 'neath the main, +His eyes then closed for ever, + +He never drank again. + + 1774. +----- + +THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWER. + +SONG OF THE IMPRISONED COUNT. + +COUNT. + +I KNOW a flower of beauty rare, + +Ah, how I hold it dear! +To seek it I would fain repair, + +Were I not prison'd here. +My sorrow sore oppresses me, +For when I was at liberty, + +I had it close beside me. + +Though from this castle's walls so steep + +I cast mine eyes around, +And gaze oft from the lofty keep, + +The flower can not be found. +Whoe'er would bring it to my sight, +Whether a vassal he, or knight, + +My dearest friend I'd deem him. + +THE ROSE. + +I blossom fair,--thy tale of woes + +I hear from 'neath thy grate. +Thou doubtless meanest me, the rose. + +Poor knight of high estate! +Thou hast in truth a lofty mind; +The queen of flowers is then enshrin'd, + +I doubt not, in thy bosom. + +COUNT. + +Thy red, in dress of green array'd, + +As worth all praise I hold; +And so thou'rt treasured by each maid + +Like precious stones or gold. +Thy wreath adorns the fairest face +But still thou'rt not the flower whose grace + +I honour here in silence. + +THE LILY. + +The rose is wont with pride to swell, + +And ever seeks to rise; +But gentle sweethearts love full well + +The lily's charms to prize, +The heart that fills a bosom true, +That is, like me, unsullied too, + +My merit values duly. + +COUNT. + +In truth, I hope myself unstain'd, + +And free from grievous crime; +Yet I am here a prisoner chain'd, + +And pass in grief my time, +To me thou art an image sure +Of many a maiden, mild and pure, + +And yet I know a dearer. + +THE PINK. + +That must be me, the pink, who scent + +The warder's garden here; +Or wherefore is he so intent + +My charms with care to rear? +My petals stand in beauteous ring, +Sweet incense all around I fling, + +And boast a thousand colours. + +COUNT. + +The pink in truth we should not slight, + +It is the gardener's pride +It now must stand exposed to light, + +Now in the shade abide. +Yet what can make the Count's heart glow +Is no mere pomp of outward show; + +It is a silent flower. + +THE VIOLET. + +Here stand I, modestly half hid, + +And fain would silence keep; +Yet since to speak I now am bid, + +I'll break my silence deep. +If, worthy Knight, I am that flower, +It grieves me that I have not power + +To breathe forth all my sweetness. + +COUNT. + +The violet's charms I prize indeed, + +So modest 'tis, and fair, +And smells so sweet; yet more I need + +To ease my heavy care. +The truth I'll whisper in thine ear: +Upon these rocky heights so drear, + +I cannot find the loved one. + +The truest maiden 'neath the sky + +Roams near the stream below, +And breathes forth many a gentle sigh, + +Till I from hence can go. +And when she plucks a flow'ret blue, +And says "Forget-me-not!"--I, too, + +Though far away, can feel it. + +Ay, distance only swells love's might, + +When fondly love a pair; +Though prison'd in the dungeon's night, + +In life I linger there +And when my heart is breaking nigh, +"Forget-me-not!" is all I cry, + +And straightway life returneth. + + 1798. +----- +SIR CURT'S WEDDING-JOURNEY. + +WITH a bridegroom's joyous bearing, + +Mounts Sir Curt his noble beast, +To his mistress' home repairing, + +There to hold his wedding feast; +When a threatening foe advances + +From a desert, rocky spot; +For the fray they couch their lances, + +Not delaying, speaking not. + +Long the doubtful fight continues, + +Victory then for Curt declares; +Conqueror, though with wearied sinews, + +Forward on his road he fares. +When he sees, though strange it may be, + +Something 'midst the foliage move; +'Tis a mother, with her baby, + +Stealing softly through the grove! + +And upon the spot she beckons-- + +"Wherefore, love, this speed so wild? +Of the wealth thy storehouse reckons, + +Hast thou nought to give thy child!" +Flames of rapture now dart through him, + +And he longs for nothing more, +While the mother seemeth to him + +Lovely as the maid of yore. + +But he hears his servants blowing, + +And bethinks him of his bride; +And ere long, while onward going, + +Chances past a fair to ride; +In the booths he forthwith buys him + +For his mistress many a pledge; +But, alas! some Jews surprise him, + +And long-standing debts allege. + +And the courts of justice duly + +Send the knight to prison straight. +Oh accursed story, truly! + +For a hero, what a fate! +Can my patience such things weather? + +Great is my perplexity. +Women, debts, and foes together,-- + +Ah, no knight escapes scot free! + + 1803.* +----- +WEDDING SONG. + +THE tale of the Count our glad song shall record + +Who had in this castle his dwelling, +Where now ye are feasting the new-married lord, + +His grandson of whom we are telling. +The Count as Crusader had blazon'd his fame, +Through many a triumph exalted his name, +And when on his steed to his dwelling he came, + +His castle still rear'd its proud head, +But servants and wealth had all fled. + +'Tis true that thou, Count, hast return'd to thy home, + +But matters are faring there ill. +The winds through the chambers at liberty roam, + +And blow through the windows at will +What's best to be done in a cold autumn night? +Full many I've pass'd in more piteous plight; +The morn ever settles the matter aright. + +Then quick, while the moon shines so clear, + +To bed on the straw, without fear, + +And whilst in a soft pleasing slumber he lay, + +A motion he feels 'neath his bed. +The rat, an he likes it, may rattle away! + +Ay, had he but crumbs there outspread! +But lo! there appears a diminutive wight, +A dwarf 'tis, yet graceful, and bearing a light, +With orator-gestures that notice invite, + +At the feet of the Count on the floor + +Who sleeps not, though weary full sore. + +"We've long been accustom'd to hold here our feast, + +Since thou from thy castle first went; +And as we believed thou wert far in the East, + +To revel e'en now we were bent. +And if thou'lt allow it, and seek not to chide, +We dwarfs will all banquet with pleasure and pride, +To honour the wealthy, the beautiful bride + +Says the Count with a smile, half-asleep;-- + +"Ye're welcome your quarters to keep!" + +Three knights then advance, riding all in a group, + +Who under the bed were conceal'd; +And then is a singing and noise-making troop + +Of strange little figures reveal'd; +And waggon on waggon with all kinds of things-- +The clatter they cause through the ear loudly rings-- +The like ne'er was seen save in castles of kings; + +At length, in a chariot of gold, + +The bride and the guests too, behold! + +Then all at full gallop make haste to advance, + +Each chooses his place in the hall; +With whirling and waltzing, and light joyous dance, + +They begin with their sweethearts the ball. +The fife and the fiddle all merrily sound, +Thy twine, and they glide, and with nimbleness bound, +Thy whisper, and chatter, and, chatter around; + +The Count on the scene casts his eye, + +And seems in a fever to lie. + +They hustle, and bustle, and rattle away + +On table, on bench, and on stool; +Then all who had joined in the festival gay + +With their partners attempt to grow cool. +The hams and the sausages nimbly they bear, +And meat, fish, and poultry in plenty are there, +Surrounded with wine of the vintage most rare: + +And when they have revell'd full long, + +They vanish at last with a song. + + + * * * * * * + +And if we're to sing all that further occurr'd, + +Pray cease ye to bluster and prate; +For what he so gladly in small saw and heard + +He enjoy'd and he practis'd in great. +For trumpets, and singing, and shouts without end +On the bridal-train, chariots and horsemen attend, +They come and appear, and they bow and they bend, + +In merry and countless array. + +Thus was it, thus is it to-day. + + 1802. +----- +THE TREASURE-DIGGER + +ALL my weary days I pass'd + +Sick at heart and poor in purse. + +Poverty's the greatest curse, + + Riches are the highest good! +And to end my woes at last, + +Treasure-seeking forth I sped. + +"Thou shalt have my soul instead!" + + Thus I wrote, and with my blood. + +Ring round ring I forthwith drew, + +Wondrous flames collected there, + +Herbs and bones in order fair, + + Till the charm had work'd aright. +Then, to learned precepts true, + +Dug to find some treasure old, + +In the place my art foretold + + Black and stormy was the night. + +Coming o'er the distant plain, + +With the glimmer of a star, + +Soon I saw a light afar, + + As the hour of midnight knell'd. +Preparation was in vain. + +Sudden all was lighted up + +With the lustre of a cup + + That a beauteous boy upheld. + +Sweetly seem'd his eves to laugh + +Neath his flow'ry chaplet's load; + +With the drink that brightly glow'd, + + He the circle enter'd in. +And he kindly bade me quaff: + +Then methought "This child can ne'er, + +With his gift so bright and fair, + + To the arch-fiend be akin." + +"Pure life's courage drink!" cried he: +"This advice to prize then learn,-- + +Never to this place return + + Trusting in thy spells absurd; +Dig no longer fruitlessly. + +Guests by night, and toil by day! + +Weeks laborious, feast-days gay! + + Be thy future magic-word! + + 1797. +----- +THE RAT-CATCHER. + +I AM the bard known far and wide, +The travell'd rat-catcher beside; +A man most needful to this town, +So glorious through its old renown. +However many rats I see, +How many weasels there may be, +I cleanse the place from ev'ry one, +All needs must helter-skelter run. + +Sometimes the bard so full of cheer +As a child-catcher will appear, +Who e'en the wildest captive brings, +Whene'er his golden tales he sings. +However proud each boy in heart, +However much the maidens start, +I bid the chords sweet music make, +And all must follow in my wake. + +Sometimes the skilful bard ye view +In the form of maiden-catcher too; +For he no city enters e'er, +Without effecting wonders there. +However coy may be each maid, +However the women seem afraid, +Yet all will love-sick be ere long +To sound of magic lute and song. + + [Da Capo.] 1803.* +----- + +THE SPINNER. + +As I calmly sat and span, + +Toiling with all zeal, +Lo! a young and handsome man + +Pass'd my spinning-wheel. + +And he praised,--what harm was there?-- + +Sweet the things he said-- +Praised my flax-resembling hair, + +And the even thread. + +He with this was not content, + +But must needs do more; +And in twain the thread was rent, + +Though 'twas safe before. + +And the flax's stonelike weight + +Needed to be told; +But no longer was its state + +Valued as of old. + +When I took it to the weaver, + +Something felt I start, +And more quickly, as with fever, + +Throbb'd my trembling heart. + +Then I bear the thread at length + +Through the heat, to bleach; +But, alas, I scarce have strength + +To the pool to reach. + +What I in my little room + +Span so fine and slight,-- +As was likely. I presume-- + +Came at last to light. + + 1800.* +----- +BEFORE A COURT OF JUSTICE. + +THE father's name ye ne'er shall be told + +Of my darling unborn life; +"Shame, shame," ye cry, "on the strumpet bold!" + +Yet I'm an honest wife. + +To whom I'm wedded, ye ne'er shall be told, + +Yet he's both loving and fair; +He wears on his neck a chain of gold, + +And a hat of straw doth he wear. + +If scorn 'tis vain to seek to repel, + +On me let the scorn be thrown. +I know him well, and he knows me well, + +And to God, too, all is known. + +Sir Parson and Sir Bailiff, again, + +I pray you, leave me in peace! +My child it is, my child 'twill remain, + +So let your questionings cease! + + 1815.* +----- +THE PAGE AND THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. + +PAGE. + +WHERE goest thou? Where? +Miller's daughter so fair! + +Thy name, pray?-- + +MILLER'S DAUGHTER. + + 'Tis Lizzy. + +PAGE. +Where goest thou? Where? +With the rake in thy hand? + +MILLER'S DAUGHTER. +Father's meadows and land + +To visit, I'm busy. + +PAGE. +Dost go there alone? + +MILLER'S DAUGHTER. +By this rake, sir, 'tis shown + +That we're making the hay; +And the pears ripen fast +In the garden at last, + +So I'll pick them to-day. + +PAGE. +Is't a silent thicket I yonder view? + +MILLER'S DAUGHTER. +Oh, yes! there are two; +There's one on each side. + +PAGE. +I'll follow thee soon; +When the sun burns at noon +We'll go there, o'urselves from his rays to hide, +And then in some glade all-verdant and deep-- + +MILLER'S DAUGHTER. +Why, people would say-- + +PAGE. +Within mine arms thou gently wilt sleep. + +MILLER'S DAUGHTER. + +Your pardon, I pray! +Whoever is kiss'd by the miller-maid, +Upon the spot must needs be betray'd. + +'Twould give me distress + +To cover with white +Your pretty dark dress. +Equal with equal! then all is right! +That's the motto in which I delight. +I am in love with the miller-boy; +He wears nothing that I could destroy. + + 1797. +----- +THE YOUTH AND THE MILLSTREAM. + +[This sweet Ballad, and the one entitled The Maid of the Mill's +Repentance, were written on the occasion of a visit paid by Goethe +to Switzerland. The Maid of the Mill's Treachery, to which the +latter forms the sequel, was not written till the following year.] + +YOUTH. + +SAY, sparkling streamlet, whither thou + + Art going! +With joyous mien thy waters now + + Are flowing. +Why seek the vale so hastily? +Attend for once, and answer me! + +MILLSTREAM. + +Oh youth, I was a brook indeed; + + But lately +My bed they've deepen'd, and my speed + + Swell'd greatly, +That I may haste to yonder mill. +And so I'm full and never still. + +YOUTH. + +The mill thou seekest in a mood + + Contented, +And know'st not how my youthful blood + + 'S tormented. +But doth the miller's daughter fair +Gaze often on thee kindly there? + +MILLSTREAM. + +She opes the shutters soon as light + + Is gleaming; +And comes to bathe her features bright + + And beaming. +So full and snow-white is her breast,-- +I feel as hot as steam suppress'd. + +YOUTH. + +If she in water can inflame + + Such ardour, +Surely, then, flesh and blood to tame + + Is harder. +When once is seen her beauteous face, +One ever longs her steps to trace. + +MILLSTREAM. + +Over the wheel I, roaring, bound, + + All-proudly, +And ev'ry spoke whirls swiftly round, + + And loudly. +Since I have seen the miller's daughter, +With greater vigour flows the water. + +YOUTH. + +Like others, then, can grief, poor brook, + + Oppress thee? +"Flow on!"--thus she'll, with smiling look, + + Address thee. +With her sweet loving glance, oh say, +Can she thy flowing current stay? + +MILLSTREAM. + +'Tis sad, 'tis sad to have to speed + + From yonder; +I wind, and slowly through the mead + + Would wander; +And if the choice remain'd with me, +Would hasten back there presently. + +YOUTH. + +Farewell, thou who with me dost prove + + Love's sadness! +Perchance some day thou'lt breathe of love + + And gladness. +Go, tell her straight, and often too, +The boy's mute hopes and wishes true. + + 1797. +----- + +THE MAID OF THE MILL'S TREACHERY. + +[This Ballad is introduced in the Wanderjahre, in a tale called +The Foolish Pilgrim.] + +WHENCE comes our friend so hastily, + +When scarce the Eastern sky is grey? +Hath he just ceased, though cold it be, + +In yonder holy spot to pray? +The brook appears to hem his path, + +Would he barefooted o'er it go? +Why curse his orisons in wrath, + +Across those heights beclad with snow? + +Alas! his warm bed he bath left, + +Where he had look'd for bliss, I ween; +And if his cloak too, had been reft, + +How fearful his disgrace had been! +By yonder villain sorely press'd, + +His wallet from him has been torn; +Our hapless friend has been undress'd, + +Left well nigh naked as when born. + +The reason why he came this road, + +Is that he sought a pair of eyes, +Which, at the mill, as brightly glow'd + +As those that are in Paradise. +He will not soon again be there; + +From out the house he quickly hied, +And when he gain'd the open air, + +Thus bitterly and loudly cried + +"Within her gaze, so dazzling bright, + +No word of treachery I could read; +She seem'd to see me with delight, + +Yet plann'd e'en then this cruel deed! +Could I, when basking in her smile, + +Dream of the treason in her breast? +She bade kind Cupid stay awhile, + +And he was there, to make us blest. + +"To taste of love's sweet ecstasy + +Throughout the night, that endless seem'd, +And for her mother's help to cry + +Only when morning sunlight beam'd! +A dozen of her kith and kin, + +A very human flood, in-press'd +Her cousins came, her aunts peer'd in, + +And uncles, brothers, and the rest. + +"Then what a tumult, fierce and loud! + +Each seem'd a beast of prey to be; +The maiden's honour all the crowd, + +With fearful shout, demand of me. +Why should they, madmen-like, begin + +To fall upon a guiltless youth? +For he who such a prize would win, + +Far nimbler needs must be, in truth. + +"The way to follow up with skill + +His freaks, by love betimes is known: +He ne'er will leave, within a mill, + +Sweet flowers for sixteen years alone.-- +They stole my clothes away,--yes, all! + +And tried my cloak besides to steal. +How strange that any house so small + +So many rascals could conceal! + +"Then I sprang up, and raved, and swore, + +To force a passage through them there. +I saw the treacherous maid once more, + +And she was still, alas, so fair +They all gave way before my wrath, + +Wild outcries flew about pell-mell; +At length I managed to rush forth, + +With voice of thunder, from that hell. + +"As maidens of the town we fly, + +We'll shun you maidens of the village; +Leave it to those of quality + +Their humble worshippers to pillage. +Yet if ye are of practised skill, + +And of all tender ties afraid, +Exchange your lovers, if ye will, + +But never let them be betray'd." + +Thus sings he in the winter-night, + +While not a blade of grass was green. +I laugh'd to see his piteous plight, + +For it was well-deserved, I ween. +And may this be the fate of all, + +Who treat by day their true loves ill, +And, with foolhardy daring, crawl + +By night to Cupid's treacherous mill! + + 1798. +----- +THE MAID OF THE MILL'S REPENTANCE. + +YOUTH. + +AWAY, thou swarthy witch! Go forth + + From out my house, I tell thee! +Or else I needs must, in my wrath, + + Expel thee! +What's this thou singest so falsely, forsooth, +Of love and a maiden's silent truth? + + Who'll trust to such a story! + +GIPSY. + +I sing of a maid's repentant fears, + + And long and bitter yearning; +Her levity's changed to truth and tears + + All-burning. +She dreads no more the threats of her mother, +She dreads far less the blows of her brother, + + Than the dearly loved-one's hatred. + +YOUTH. + +Of selfishness sing and treacherous lies, + + Of murder and thievish plunder! +Such actions false will cause no surprise, + + Or wonder. +When they share their booty, both clothes and purse,-- +As bad as you gipsies, and even worse, + + Such tales find ready credence. + +GIPSY. + +"Alas, alas! oh what have I done? + + Can listening aught avail me? +I hear him toward my room hasten on, + + To hail me. +My heart beat high, to myself I said: +'O would that thou hadst never betray'd + + That night of love to thy mother!'" + +YOUTH. + +Alas! I foolishly ventured there, + + For the cheating silence misled me; +Ah, sweetest! let me to thee repair,-- + + Nor dread me! +When suddenly rose a fearful din, +Her mad relations came pouring in. + + My blood still boils in my body! + +GIPSY. + +"Oh when will return an hour like this? + + I pine in silent sadness; +I've thrown away my only true bliss + + With madness. +Alas, poor maid! O pity my youth! +My brother was then full cruel in troth + + To treat the loved one so basely!" + +THE POET. + +The swarthy woman then went inside, + + To the spring in the courtyard yonder; +Her eyes from their stain she purified, + + And,--wonder!-- +Her face and eyes were radiant and bright, +And the maid of the mill was disclosed to the sight + + Of the startled and angry stripling! + +THE MAID OF THE MILL. + +Thou sweetest, fairest, dearly-loved life! + + Before thine anger I cower; +But blows I dread not, nor sharp-edged knife,-- + + This hour +Of sorrow and love to thee I'll sing, +And myself before thy feet I'll fling, + + And either live or die there! + +YOUTH. + +Affection, say, why buried so deep + + In my heart hast thou lain hidden? +By whom hast thou now to awake from thy sleep + + Been bidden? +Ah love, that thou art immortal I see! +Nor knavish cunning nor treachery + + Can destroy thy life so godlike. + +THE MAID OF THE MILL. + +If still with as fond and heartfelt love, + + As thou once didst swear, I'm cherish'd, +Then nought of the rapture we used to prove + + Is perish'd. +So take the woman so dear to thy breast! +In her young and innocent charms be blest, + + For all are thine from henceforward! + +BOTH. + +Now, sun, sink to rest! Now, sun, arise! + + Ye stars, be now shining, now darkling! +A star of love now gleams in the skies, + + All-sparkling! +As long as the fountain may spring and run, +So long will we two be blended in one, + + Upon each other's bosoms! + + 1797. +----- +THE TRAVELLER AND THE FARM~MAIDEN. + +HE. + +CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden, + +'Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder,-- + +Where I'd fain one moment cease to wander,-- +Food and drink to one so heavy laden? + +SHE. + +Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary, + +Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes,-- + +None but Nature's plain and homely dishes,-- +Near the spring may soothe thy wanderings dreary. + +HE. + +Dreams of old acquaintance now pass through me, + +Ne'er-forgotten queen of hours of blisses. + +Likenesses I've often found, but this is +One that quite a marvel seemeth to me! + +SHE. + +Travellers often wonder beyond measure, + +But their wonder soon see cause to smother; + +Fair and dark are often like each other, +Both inspire the mind with equal pleasure. + +HE. + +Not now for the first time I surrender + +To this form, in humble adoration; + +It was brightest midst the constellation +In the hail adorn'd with festal splendour. + +SHE. + +Be thou joyful that 'tis in my power + +To complete thy strange and merry story! + +Silks behind her, full of purple glory, +Floated, when thou saw'st her in that hour. + +HE. + +No, in truth, thou hast not sung it rightly! + +Spirits may have told thee all about it; + +Pearls and gems they spoke of, do not doubt it,-- +By her gaze eclipsed,--it gleam'd so brightly! + +SHE. + +This one thing I certainly collected: + +That the fair one--(say nought, I entreat thee!) + +Fondly hoping once again to meet thee, +Many a castle in the air erected. + +HE. + +By each wind I ceaselessly was driven, + +Seeking gold and honour, too, to capture! + +When my wand'rings end, then oh, what rapture, +If to find that form again 'tis given! + +SHE. + +'Tis the daughter of the race now banish'd + +That thou seest, not her likeness only; + +Helen and her brother, glad though lonely, +Till this farm of their estate now vanish'd. + +HE. + +But the owner surely is not wanting + +Of these plains, with ev'ry beauty teeming? + +Verdant fields, broad meads, and pastures gleaming, +Gushing springs, all heav'nly and enchanting. + +SHE. + +Thou must hunt the world through, wouldst thou find him!-- + +We have wealth enough in our possession, + +And intend to purchase the succession, +When the good man leaves the world behind him. + +HE. + +I have learnt the owner's own condition, + +And, fair maiden, thou indeed canst buy it; + +But the cost is great, I won't deny it,-- +Helen is the price,--with thy permission! + +SHE. + +Did then fate and rank keep us asunder, + +And must Love take this road, and no other? + +Yonder comes my dear and trusty brother; +What will he say to it all, I wonder? + + 1803.* +----- +EFFECTS AT A DISTANCE. + +THE queen in the lofty hall takes her place, + +The tapers around her are flaming; +She speaks to the page: "With a nimble pace + +Go, fetch me my purse for gaming. + + 'Tis lying, I'll pledge, + + On my table's edge." +Each nerve the nimble boy straineth, +And the end of the castle soon gaineth. + +The fairest of maidens was sipping sherbet + +Beside the queen that minute; +Near her mouth broke the cup,--and she got so wet! + +The very devil seem'd in it + + What fearful distress + + 'Tis spoilt, her gay dress. +She hastens, and ev'ry nerve straineth, +And the end of the castle soon gaineth. + +The boy was returning, and quickly came, + +And met the sorrowing maiden; +None knew of the fact,--and yet with Love's flame, + +Those two had their hearts full laden. + + And, oh the bliss + + Of a moment like this! +Each falls on the breast of the other, +With kisses that well nigh might smother. + +They tear themselves asunder at last, + +To her chamber she hastens quickly, +To reach the queen the page hies him fast, + +Midst the swords and the fans crowded thickly. + + The queen spied amain + + On his waistcoat a stain; +For nought was inscrutable to her, +Like Sheba's queen--Solomon's wooer. + +To her chief attendant she forthwith cried + +"We lately together contended, +And thou didst assert, with obstinate pride, + +That the spirit through space never wended,-- + + That traces alone + + By the present were shown,-- +That afar nought was fashion'd--not even +By the stars that illumine you heaven. + +"Now see! while a goblet beside me they drain'd, + + They spilt all the drink in the chalice; +And straightway the boy had his waistcoat stain'd + + At the furthermost end of the palace.-- + + Let them newly be clad! + + And since I am glad +That it served as a proof so decided, +The cost will by me be provided." + + 1808. +----- +THE WALKING BELL + +A CHILD refused to go betimes + +To church like other people; +He roam'd abroad, when rang the chimes + +On Sundays from the steeple. + +His mother said: "Loud rings the bell, + +Its voice ne'er think of scorning; +Unless thou wilt behave thee well, + +'Twill fetch thee without warning." + +The child then thought: "High over head + +The bell is safe suspended--" +So to the fields he straightway sped + +As if 'twas school-time ended. + +The bell now ceas'd as bell to ring, + +Roused by the mother's twaddle; +But soon ensued a dreadful thing!-- + +The bell begins to waddle. + +It waddles fast, though strange it seem; + +The child, with trembling wonder, +Runs off, and flies, as in a dream; + +The bell would draw him under. + +He finds the proper time at last, + +And straightway nimbly rushes +To church, to chapel, hastening fast + +Through pastures, plains, and bushes. + +Each Sunday and each feast as well, + +His late disaster heeds he; +The moment that he bears the bell, + +No other summons needs he. + + 1813. +----- +FAITHFUL ECKART, + +"OH, would we were further! Oh, would we were home, +The phantoms of night tow'rd us hastily come, + +The band of the Sorceress sisters. +They hitherward speed, and on finding us here, +They'll drink, though with toil we have fetch'd it, the beer, + +And leave us the pitchers all empty." + +Thus speaking, the children with fear take to flight, +When sudden an old man appears in their sight: + +"Be quiet, child! children, be quiet! +From hunting they come, and their thirst they would still, +So leave them to swallow as much as they will, + +And the Evil Ones then will be gracious." + +As said, so 'twas done! and the phantoms draw near, +And shadowlike seem they, and grey they appear, + +~Yet blithely they sip and they revel +The beer has all vanish'd, the pitchers are void; +With cries and with shouts the wild hunters, o'erjoy'd, + +Speed onward o'er vale and o'er mountain. + +The children in terror fly nimbly tow'rd home, +And with them the kind one is careful to come: + +"My darlings, oh, be not so mournful!-- +"They'll blame us and beat us, until we are dead."-- +"No, no! ye will find that all goes well," he said; + +"Be silent as mice, then, and listen! + +"And he by whose counsels thus wisely ye're taught, +Is he who with children loves ever to sport. + +The trusty and faithful old Eckart. +Ye have heard of the wonder for many a day, +But ne'er had a proof of the marvellous lay,-- + +Your hands hold a proof most convincing." + +They arrive at their home, and their pitchers they place +By the side of their parents, with fear on their face, + +Awaiting a beating and scolding. +But see what they're tasting: the choicest of beer! +Though three times and four times they quaff the good cheer + +The pitchers remain still unemptied. + +The marvel it lasts till the dawning of day; +All people who hear of it doubtless will say: + +"What happen'd at length to the pitchers?" +In secret the children they smile, as they wait; +At last, though, they stammer, and stutter, and prate, + +And straightway the pitchers were empty. + +And if, children, with kindness address'd ye may be, +Whether father, or master, or alderman he, + +Obey him, and follow his bidding! +And if 'tis unpleasant to bridle the tongue, +Yet talking is bad, silence good for the young-- + +And then will the beer fill your pitchers! + + 1813. +----- +THE DANCE OF DEATH. + +THE warder looks down at the mid hour of night, + +On the tombs that lie scatter'd below: +The moon fills the place with her silvery light, + +And the churchyard like day seems to glow. +When see! first one grave, then another opes wide, +And women and men stepping forth are descried, + +In cerements snow-white and trailing. + +In haste for the sport soon their ankles they twitch, + +And whirl round in dances so gay; +The young and the old, and the poor, and the rich, + +But the cerements stand in their way; +And as modesty cannot avail them aught here, +They shake themselves all, and the shrouds soon appear + +Scatter'd over the tombs in confusion. + +Now waggles the leg, and now wriggles the thigh, + +As the troop with strange gestures advance, +And a rattle and clatter anon rises high, + +As of one beating time to the dance. +The sight to the warder seems wondrously queer, +When the villainous Tempter speaks thus in his ear: + +"Seize one of the shrouds that lie yonder!" + +Quick as thought it was done! and for safety he fled + +Behind the church-door with all speed; +The moon still continues her clear light to shed + +On the dance that they fearfully lead. +But the dancers at length disappear one by one, +And their shrouds, ere they vanish, they carefully don, + +And under the turf all is quiet. + +But one of them stumbles and shuffles there still, + +And gropes at the graves in despair; +Yet 'tis by no comrade he's treated so ill + +The shroud he soon scents in the air. +So he rattles the door--for the warder 'tis well +That 'tis bless'd, and so able the foe to repel, + +All cover'd with crosses in metal. + +The shroud he must have, and no rest will allow, + +There remains for reflection no time; +On the ornaments Gothic the wight seizes now, + +And from point on to point hastes to climb. +Alas for the warder! his doom is decreed! +Like a long-legged spider, with ne'er-changing speed, + +Advances the dreaded pursuer. + +The warder he quakes, and the warder turns pale, + +The shroud to restore fain had sought; +When the end,--now can nothing to save him avail,-- + +In a tooth formed of iron is caught. +With vanishing lustre the moon's race is run, +When the bell thunders loudly a powerful One, + +And the skeleton fails, crush'd to atoms. + + 1813. +----- +THE PUPIL IN MAGIC. + +I AM now,--what joy to hear it!-- + +Of the old magician rid; +And henceforth shall ev'ry spirit + +Do whate'er by me is bid; + + I have watch'd with rigour + + All he used to do, + + And will now with vigour + + Work my wonders too. + + + Wander, wander + + Onward lightly, + + So that rightly + + Flow the torrent, + + And with teeming waters yonder + + In the bath discharge its current! + +And now come, thou well-worn broom, + +And thy wretched form bestir; +Thou hast ever served as groom, + +So fulfil my pleasure, sir! + + On two legs now stand, + + With a head on top; + + Waterpail in hand, + + Haste, and do not stop! + + + Wander, wander + + Onward lightly, + + So that rightly + + Flow the torrent, + + And with teeming waters yonder + + In the bath discharge its current! + +See! he's running to the shore, + +And has now attain'd the pool, +And with lightning speed once more + +Comes here, with his bucket full! + + Back he then repairs; + + See how swells the tide! + + How each pail he bears + + Straightway is supplied! + + + Stop, for, lo! + + All the measure + + Of thy treasure + + Now is right!-- + + Ah, I see it! woe, oh woe! + + I forget the word of might. + +Ah, the word whose sound can straight + +Make him what he was before! +Ah, he runs with nimble gait! + +Would thou wert a broom once more! + + Streams renew'd for ever + + Quickly bringeth he; + + River after river + + Rusheth on poor me! + + + Now no longer + + Can I bear him; + + I will snare him, + + Knavish sprite! + + Ah, my terror waxes stronger! + + What a look! what fearful sight + +Oh, thou villain child of hell! + +Shall the house through thee be drown'd +Floods I see that wildly swell, + +O'er the threshold gaining ground. + + Wilt thou not obey, + + Oh, thou broom accurs'd? + + Be thou still I pray, + + As thou wert at first! + + + Will enough + + Never please thee? + + I will seize thee, + + Hold thee fast, + + And thy nimble wood so tough, + + With my sharp axe split at last. + +See, once more he hastens back! + +Now, oh Cobold, thou shalt catch it! +I will rush upon his track; + +Crashing on him falls my hatchet. + + Bravely done, indeed! + + See, he's cleft in twain! + + Now from care I'm freed, + + And can breathe again. + + + Woe, oh woe! + + Both the parts, + + Quick as darts, + + Stand on end, + + Servants of my dreaded foe! + + Oh, ye gods protection send! + +And they run! and wetter still + +Grow the steps and grows the hail. +Lord and master hear me call! + +Ever seems the flood to fill, + + + Ah, he's coming! see, + + Great is my dismay! + + Spirits raised by me + + Vainly would I lay! + + + "To the side + + Of the room + + Hasten, broom, + + As of old! + + Spirits I have ne'er untied + + Save to act as they are told." + + 1797. +----- +THE BRIDE OF CORINTH. + +[First published in Schiller's Horen, in connection with a +friendly contest in the art of ballad-writing between the two +great poets, to which many of their finest works are owing.] + +ONCE a stranger youth to Corinth came, + + Who in Athens lived, but hoped that he +From a certain townsman there might claim, + + As his father's friend, kind courtesy. + + Son and daughter, they + + Had been wont to say + + Should thereafter bride and bridegroom be. + +But can he that boon so highly prized, + + Save tis dearly bought, now hope to get? +They are Christians and have been baptized, + + He and all of his are heathens yet. + + For a newborn creed, + + Like some loathsome weed, + + Love and truth to root out oft will threat. + +Father, daughter, all had gone to rest, + + And the mother only watches late; +She receives with courtesy the guest, + + And conducts him to the room of state. + + Wine and food are brought, + + Ere by him besought; + + Bidding him good night. she leaves him straight. + +But he feels no relish now, in truth, + + For the dainties so profusely spread; +Meat and drink forgets the wearied youth, + + And, still dress'd, he lays him on the bed. + + Scarce are closed his eyes, + + When a form in-hies + + Through the open door with silent tread. + +By his glimmering lamp discerns he now + + How, in veil and garment white array'd, +With a black and gold band round her brow, + + Glides into the room a bashful maid. + + But she, at his sight, + + Lifts her hand so white, + + And appears as though full sore afraid. + +"Am I," cries she, "such a stranger here, + + That the guest's approach they could not name? +Ah, they keep me in my cloister drear, + + Well nigh feel I vanquish'd by my shame. + + On thy soft couch now + + Slumber calmly thou! + + I'll return as swiftly as I came." + +"Stay, thou fairest maiden!" cries the boy, + + Starting from his couch with eager haste: +"Here are Ceres', Bacchus' gifts of joy; + + Amor bringest thou, with beauty grac'd! + + Thou art pale with fear! + + Loved one let us here + + Prove the raptures the Immortals taste." + +"Draw not nigh, O Youth! afar remain! + + Rapture now can never smile on me; +For the fatal step, alas! is ta'en, + + Through my mother's sick-bed phantasy. + + Cured, she made this oath: + + 'Youth and nature both + + Shall henceforth to Heav'n devoted be.' + + +"From the house, so silent now, are driven + + All the gods who reign'd supreme of yore; +One Invisible now rules in heaven, + + On the cross a Saviour they adore. + + Victims slay they here, + + Neither lamb nor steer, +But the altars reek with human gore." + +And he lists, and ev'ry word he weighs, + + While his eager soul drinks in each sound: +"Can it be that now before my gaze + + Stands my loved one on this silent ground? + + Pledge to me thy troth! + + Through our father's oath: + + With Heav'ns blessing will our love be crown'd." + +"Kindly youth, I never can be thine! + + 'Tis my sister they intend for thee. +When I in the silent cloister pine, + + Ah, within her arms remember me! + + Thee alone I love, + + While love's pangs I prove; + + Soon the earth will veil my misery." + +"No! for by this glowing flame I swear, + + Hymen hath himself propitious shown: +Let us to my fathers house repair, + + And thoult find that joy is not yet flown, + + Sweetest, here then stay, + + And without delay + + Hold we now our wedding feast alone!" + +Then exchange they tokens of their truth; + + She gives him a golden chain to wear, +And a silver chalice would the youth + + Give her in return of beauty rare. + + "That is not for me; + + Yet I beg of thee, +One lock only give me of thy hair." + +Now the ghostly hour of midnight knell'd, + + And she seem'd right joyous at the sign; +To her pallid lips the cup she held, + + But she drank of nought but blood-red wine. + + For to taste the bread + + There before them spread, + + Nought he spoke could make the maid incline. + +To the youth the goblet then she brought,-- + + He too quaff'd with eager joy the bowl. +Love to crown the silent feast he sought, + + Ah! full love-sick was the stripling's soul. + + From his prayer she shrinks, + + Till at length he sinks + + On the bed and weeps without control. + +And she comes, and lays her near the boy: + + "How I grieve to see thee sorrowing so! +If thou think'st to clasp my form with joy, + + Thou must learn this secret sad to know; + + Yes! the maid, whom thou + + Call'st thy loved one now, + + Is as cold as ice, though white as snow." + +Then he clasps her madly in his arm, + + While love's youthful might pervades his frame: +"Thou might'st hope, when with me, to grow warm, + + E'en if from the grave thy spirit came! + + Breath for breath, and kiss! + + Overflow of bliss! + + Dost not thou, like me, feel passion's flame?" + +Love still closer rivets now their lips, + + Tears they mingle with their rapture blest, +From his mouth the flame she wildly sips, + + Each is with the other's thought possess'd. + + His hot ardour's flood + + Warms her chilly blood, + + But no heart is beating in her breast. + +In her care to see that nought went wrong, + + Now the mother happen'd to draw near; +At the door long hearkens she, full long, + + Wond'ring at the sounds that greet her ear. + + Tones of joy and sadness, + + And love's blissful madness, + + As of bride and bridegroom they appear, + +From the door she will not now remove + + 'Till she gains full certainty of this; +And with anger hears she vows of love, + + Soft caressing words of mutual bliss. + + "Hush! the cock's loud strain! + + But thoult come again, + + When the night returns!"--then kiss on kiss. + +Then her wrath the mother cannot hold, + + But unfastens straight the lock with ease +"In this house are girls become so bold, + + As to seek e'en strangers' lusts to please?" + + By her lamp's clear glow + + Looks she in,--and oh! + + Sight of horror!--'tis her child she sees. + +Fain the youth would, in his first alarm, + + With the veil that o'er her had been spread, +With the carpet, shield his love from harm; + + But she casts them from her, void of dread, + + And with spirit's strength, + + In its spectre length, + + Lifts her figure slowly from the bed. + +"Mother! mother!"--Thus her wan lips say: + + "May not I one night of rapture share? +From the warm couch am I chased away? + + Do I waken only to despair? + + It contents not thee + + To have driven me + + An untimely shroud of death to wear? + +"But from out my coffin's prison-bounds + + By a wond'rous fate I'm forced to rove, +While the blessings and the chaunting sounds + + That your priests delight in, useless prove. + + Water, salt, are vain + + Fervent youth to chain, + + Ah, e'en Earth can never cool down love! + +"When that infant vow of love was spoken, + + Venus' radiant temple smiled on both. +Mother! thou that promise since hast broken, + + Fetter'd by a strange, deceitful oath. + + Gods, though, hearken ne'er, + + Should a mother swear + + To deny her daughter's plighted troth. + +From my grave to wander I am forc'd, + + Still to seek The Good's long-sever'd link, +Still to love the bridegroom I have lost, + + And the life-blood of his heart to drink; + + When his race is run, + + I must hasten on, + + And the young must 'neath my vengeance sink, + +"Beauteous youth! no longer mayst thou live; + + Here must shrivel up thy form so fair; +Did not I to thee a token give, + + Taking in return this lock of hair? + + View it to thy sorrow! + + Grey thoult be to-morrow, + + Only to grow brown again when there. + +"Mother, to this final prayer give ear! + + Let a funeral pile be straightway dress'd; +Open then my cell so sad and drear, + + That the flames may give the lovers rest! + + When ascends the fire + + From the glowing pyre, + + To the gods of old we'll hasten, blest." + + 1797. +----- +THE GOD AND THE BAYADERE. + +AN INDIAN LEGEND. + +[This very fine Ballad was also first given in the Horen.] +(MAHADEVA is one of the numerous names of Seeva, the destroyer,-- +the great god of the Brahmins.) + + +MAHADEVA,* Lord of earth + + For the sixth time comes below, + +As a man of mortal birth,-- + + Like him, feeling joy and woe. + +Hither loves he to repair, + + And his power behind to leave; + +If to punish or to spare, + + Men as man he'd fain perceive. +And when he the town as a trav'ller hath seen, +Observing the mighty, regarding the mean, +He quits it, to go on his journey, at eve. + + +He was leaving now the place, + + When an outcast met his eyes,-- + +Fair in form, with painted face,-- + + Where some straggling dwellings rise. + +"Maiden, hail!"--"Thanks! welcome here! + + Stay!--I'll join thee in the road.' + +"Who art thou?"--"A Bayadere, + + And this house is love's abode." +The cymbal she hastens to play for the dance, +Well skill'd in its mazes the sight to entrance, +Then by her with grace is the nosegay bestow'd. + + + +Then she draws him, as in play, + + O'er the threshold eagerly: + +"Beauteous stranger, light as day + + Thou shalt soon this cottage see. + +I'll refresh thee, if thou'rt tired, + + And will bathe thy weary feet; + +Take whate'er by thee's desired, + + Toying, rest, or rapture sweet."-- +She busily seeks his feign'd suff'rings to ease; +Then smiles the Immortal; with pleasure he sees +That with kindness a heart so corrupted can beat. + + +And he makes her act the part + + Of a slave; he's straight obey'd. + +What at first had been but art, + + Soon is nature in the maid. + +By degrees the fruit we find, + + Where the buds at first obtain; + +When obedience fills the mind, + + Love will never far remain. +But sharper and sharper the maiden to prove, +The Discerner of all things below and above, +Feigns pleasure, and horror, and maddening pain. + + +And her painted cheeks he kisses, + + And his vows her heart enthrall; + +Feeling love's sharp pangs and blisses, + + Soon her tears begin to fall. + +At his feet she now must sink, + + Not with thoughts of lust or gain,-- + +And her slender members shrink, + + And devoid of power remain. +And so the bright hours with gladness prepare +Their dark, pleasing veil of a texture so fair, +And over the couch softly, tranquilly reign. + + +Late she falls asleep, thus bless'd,-- + + Early wakes, her slumbers fled, + +And she finds the much-loved guest + + On her bosom lying dead. + +Screaming falls she on him there, + + But, alas, too late to save! + +And his rigid limbs they bear + + Straightway to their fiery grave. +Then hears she the priests and the funeral song, +Then madly she runs, and she severs the throng: +"Why press tow'rd the pile thus? Why scream thus, and rave?" + + +Then she sinks beside his bier, + + And her screams through air resound: + +"I must seek my spouse so dear, + + E'en if in the grave he's bound. + +Shall those limbs of grace divine + + Fall to ashes in my sight? + +Mine he was! Yes, only mine! + + Ah, one single blissful night!" +The priests chaunt in chorus: "We bear out the old, +When long they've been weary, and late they've grown cold: +We bear out the young, too, so thoughtless and light. + + +"To thy priests' commands give ear! + + This one was thy husband ne'er; + +Live still as a Bayadere, + + And no duty thou need'st share. + +To deaths silent realms from life, + + None but shades attend man's frame, + +With the husband, none but wife,-- + + That is duty, that is fame. +Ye trumpets, your sacred lament haste to raise +Oh, welcome, ye gods, the bright lustre of days! +Oh, welcome to heaven the youth from the flame!" + + +Thus increased her torments are + + By the cruel, heartless quire; + +And with arms outstretching far + + Leaps she on the glowing pyre. + +But the youth divine outsprings + + From the flame with heav'nly grace, + +And on high his flight he wings, + + While his arms his love embrace. +In the sinner repentant the Godhead feels joy; +Immortals delight thus their might to employ. +Lost children to raise to a heavenly place. + + 1797. +----- +THE PARIAH. + +I. THE PARIAH S PRAYER. + +DREADED Brama, lord of might! + +All proceed from thee alone; +Thou art he who judgeth right! + +Dost thou none but Brahmins own? +Do but Rajahs come from thee? + +None but those of high estate? + +Didst not thou the ape create, +Aye, and even such as we? + +We are not of noble kind, + +For with woe our lot is rife; +And what others deadly find + +Is our only source of life. +Let this be enough for men, + +Let them, if they will, despise us; + +But thou, Brama, thou shouldst prize us, +All are equal in thy ken. + +Now that, Lord, this prayer is said, + +As thy child acknowledge me; +Or let one be born in-stead, + +Who may link me on to thee! +Didst not thou a Bayadere + +As a goddess heavenward raise? + +And we too to swell thy praise, +Such a miracle would hear. + + 1821. +----- +II. LEGEND. + +[The successful manner in which Goethe employs the simple +rhymeless trochaic metre in this and in many other Poems will +perhaps be remarked by the reader.] + +WATER-FETCHING goes the noble +Brahmin's wife, so pure and lovely; +He is honour'd, void of blemish. +And of justice rigid, stern. +Daily from the sacred river +Brings she back refreshments precious;-- +But where is the pail and pitcher? +She of neither stands in need. +For with pure heart, hands unsullied, +She the water lifts, and rolls it +To a wondrous ball of crystal +This she bears with gladsome bosom, +Modestly, with graceful motion, +To her husband in the house. + +She to-day at dawn of morning +Praying comes to Ganges' waters, +Bends her o'er the glassy surface-- +Sudden, in the waves reflected, +Flying swiftly far above her, +From the highest heavens descending, +She discerns the beauteous form +Of a youth divine, created +By the God's primeval wisdom +In his own eternal breast. + +When she sees him, straightway feels she +Wondrous, new, confused sensations +In her inmost, deepest being; +Fain she'd linger o'er the vision, +Then repels it,--it returneth,-- +And, perplex'd, she bends her flood-wards +With uncertain hands to draw it; +But, alas, she draws no more! +For the water's sacred billows +Seem to fly, to hasten from her; +She but sees the fearful chasm +Of a whirlpool black disclosed. + +Arms drop down, and footsteps stumble, +Can this be the pathway homewards? +Shall she fly, or shall she tarry? +Can she think, when thought and counsel, +When assistance all are lost? +So before her spouse appears she-- +On her looks he--look is judgment-- +Proudly on the sword he seizes, +To the hill of death he drags her, +Where delinquents' blood pays forfeit. +What resistance could she offer? +What excuses could she proffer, +Guilty, knowing not her guilt? + +And with bloody sword returns he, +Musing, to his silent dwelling, +When his son before him stands: +"Whose this blood? Oh, father! father!" +"The delinquent woman's!"--"Never! +For upon the sword it dries not, +Like the blood of the delinquent; +Fresh it flows, as from the wound. +Mother! mother! hither hasten! +Unjust never was my father, +Tell me what he now hath done."-- +"Silence! silence! hers the blood is!" +"Whose, my father?"--"Silence! Silence!" +"What! oh what! my mother's blood! +What her crime? What did she? Answer! +Now, the sword! the sword now hold I; +Thou thy wife perchance might'st slaughter, +But my mother might'st not slay! +Through the flames the wife is able +Her beloved spouse to follow, +And his dear and only mother +Through the sword her faithful son." +"Stay! oh stay!" exclaim'd the father: +"Yet 'tis time, so hasten, hasten! +Join the head upon the body, +With the sword then touch the figure, +And, alive she'll follow thee." + +Hastening, he, with breathless wonder, +Sees the bodies of two women +Lying crosswise, and their heads too; +Oh, what horror! which to choose! +Then his mother's head he seizes,-- +Does not kiss it, deadly pale 'tis,-- +On the nearest headless body +Puts it quickly, and then blesses +With the sword the pious work. +Then the giant form uprises,-- +From the dear lips of his mother, +Lips all god-like--changeless--blissful, +Sound these words with horror fraught: +"Son, oh son! what overhast'ning! +Yonder is thy mother's body, +Near it lies the impious head +Of the woman who hath fallen +Victim to the judgment-sword! +To her body I am grafted +By thy hand for endless ages; +Wise in counsel, wild in action, +I shall be amongst the gods. +E'en the heav'nly boy's own image, +Though in eye and brow so lovely, +Sinking downwards to the bosom +Mad and raging lust will stir. + +"'Twill return again for ever, +Ever rising, ever sinking, +Now obscured, and now transfigur'd,-- +So great Brama hath ordain'd. +He 'twas sent the beauteous pinions, +Radiant face and slender members +Of the only God-begotten, +That I might be proved and tempted; +For from high descends temptation, +When the gods ordain it so. +And so I, the Brahmin woman, +With my head in Heaven reclining, +Must experience, as a Pariah, +The debasing power of earth. + +Son, I send thee to thy father! +Comfort him! Let no sad penance, +Weak delay, or thought of merit, +Hold thee in the desert fast +Wander on through ev'ry nation, +Roam abroad throughout all ages, +And proclaim to e'en the meanest, +That great Brama hears his cry! + +"None is in his eyes the meanest-- +He whose limbs are lame and palsied, +He whose soul is wildly riven, +Worn with sorrow, hopeless, helpless, +Be he Brahmin, be he Pariah, +If tow'rd heaven he turns his gaze, +Will perceive, will learn to know it: +Thousand eyes are glowing yonder, +Thousand ears are calmly list'ning, +From which nought below is hid. + +"If I to his throne soar upward, +If he sees my fearful figure +By his might transform'd to horror, +He for ever will lament it,-- +May it to your good be found! +And I now will kindly warn him, +And I now will madly tell him +Whatsoe'er my mind conceiveth, +What within my bosom heaveth. +But my thoughts, my inmost feelings-- +Those a secret shall remain." + + 1821. +----- +III. THE PARIAH'S THANKS. + +MIGHTY Brama, now I'll bless thee! + +'Tis from thee that worlds proceed! +As my ruler I confess thee, + +For of all thou takest heed. + +All thy thousand ears thou keepest + +Open to each child of earth; +We, 'mongst mortals sunk the deepest, + +Have from thee received new birth. + +Bear in mind the woman's story, + +Who, through grief, divine became; +Now I'll wait to view His glory, + +Who omnipotence can claim. + + 1821. +----- +DEATH-LAMENT OF THE NOBLE WIFE OF ASAN AGA. + +[From the Morlack.) + +WHAT is yonder white thing in the forest? +Is it snow, or can it swans perchance be? +Were it snow, ere this it had been melted, +Were it swans, they all away had hastend. +Snow, in truth, it is not, swans it is not, +'Tis the shining tents of Asan Aga. +He within is lying, sorely wounded; +To him come his mother and his sister; +Bashfully his wife delays to come there. +When the torment of his wounds had lessen'd, +To his faithful wife he sent this message: +"At my court no longer dare to tarry, +At my court, or e'en amongst my people." + +When the woman heard this cruel message, +Mute and full of sorrow stood that true one. +At the doors she hears the feet of horses, +And bethinks that Asan comes--her husband, +To the tower she springs, to leap thence headlong, +Her two darling daughters follow sadly, +And whilst weeping bitter tears, exclaim they: +These are not our father Asan's horses; +'Tis thy brother Pintorowich coming!" + +So the wife of Asan turns to meet him, +Clasps her arms in anguish round her brother: +"See thy sister's sad disgrace, oh brother! +How I'm banish'd--mother of five children!" +Silently her brother from his wallet, +Wrapp'd in deep red-silk, and ready written, +Draweth forth the letter of divorcement, +To return home to her mother's dwelling, +Free to be another's wife thenceforward. + +When the woman saw that mournful letter, +Fervently she kiss'd her two sons' foreheads, +And her two girls' cheeks with fervour kiss'd she, +But she from the suckling in the cradle +Could not tear herself, so deep her sorrow! +So she's torn thence by her fiery brother, +On his nimble steed he lifts her quickly, +And so hastens, with the heart-sad woman, +Straightway tow'rd his father's lofty dwelling. + +Short the time was--seven days had pass'd not,-- +Yet enough 'twas; many mighty princes +Sought the woman in her widow's-mourning. +Sought the woman,--as their wife they sought her. +And the mightiest was Imoski's Cadi, +And the woman weeping begg'd her brother: +By thy life, my brother, I entreat thee, +Let me not another's wife be ever, +Lest my heart be broken at the image +Of my poor, my dearly-cherish'd children!" + +To her prayer her brother would not hearken, +Fix'd to wed her to Imoski's Cadi. +Yet the good one ceaselessly implored him: +"Send, at least a letter, oh, my brother, +With this message to Imoski's Cadi: +'The young widow sends thee friendly greeting; +Earnestly she prays thee, through this letter, +That, when thou com'st hither, with thy Suatians, +A long veil thou'lt bring me, 'neath whose shadow +I may hide, when near the house of Asan, +And not see my dearly cherish'd orphans.'" + +Scarcely had the Cadi read this letter, +Than he gather'd all his Suatians round him, +And then tow'rd the bride his course directed, +And the veil she ask'd for, took he with him. + +Happily they reach'd the princess' dwelling, +From the dwelling happily they led her. +But when they approach'd the house of Asan, +Lo! the children saw from high their mother, +And they shouted: "To thy halls return thou! +Eat thy supper with thy darling children!" +Mournfully the wife of Asan heard it, +Tow'rd the Suatian prince then turn'd she, saying: +"Let, I pray, the Suatians and the horses +At the loved ones' door a short time tarry, +That I may give presents to my children." + +And before the loved ones' door they tarried, +And she presents gave to her poor children, +To the boys gave gold-embroider'd buskins, +To the girls gave long and costly dresses, +To the suckling, helpless in the cradle, +Gave a garment, to be worn hereafter. + +This aside saw Father Asan Aga,-- +Sadly cried he to his darling children: +"Hither come, ye dear unhappy infants, +For your mother's breast is turn'd to iron, +Lock'd for ever, closed to all compassion!" + +When the wife of Asan heard him speak thus, +On the ground, all pale and trembling, fell she, +And her spirit fled her sorrowing bosom, +When she saw her children flying from her. + + 1775. +----- + +CANTATAS. + +----- +May the bard these numbers praise, +That are sung his fame to raise. +----- + +THE Poems composed by Goethe under this title are five in +number, of which three are here given. The other two are entirely +personal in their allusions, and not of general interest. One of +them is a Requiem on the Prince de Ligne, who died in 1814, and +whom Goethe calls "the happiest man of the century," and the +other was composed in honour of the 70th birthday of his friend +Zelter the composer, when Goethe was himself more than 79 (1828). +The following sweet aria introduced in the latter is, however, +worth giving:-- + +THE flowers so carefully rear'd, + +In a garland for him I oft twin'd: +How sweet have they ever appear'd, + +When wreath'd for a friend dear and kind. +Then incense sweet ascended, + +Then new-horn blossoms rose, +With gentle zephyrs blended + +In tones of soft repose. +----- +IDYLL. + +A village Chorus is supposed to be assembled, and about to +commence its festive procession. + +[Written for the birthday of the Duchess Louisa of Weimar.] + +CHORUS. + +THE festal day hail ye + +With garlands of pleasure, + +And dances' soft measure, +With rapture commingled +And sweet choral song. + +DAMON. + +Oh, how I yearn from out the crowd to flee! +What joy a secret glade would give to me! +Amid the throng, the turmoil here, +Confined the plain, the breezes e'en appear. + +CHORUS. + +Now order it truly, +That ev'ry one duly +May roam and may wander, +Now here, and now yonder, + +The meadows along. + +[The Chorus retreats gradually, and the song becomes fainter and +fainter, till it dies away in the distance.] + +DAMON. + +In vain ye call, in vain would lure me on; +True my heart speaks,--but with itself alone. + +And if I may view + + A blessing-fraught land, + +The heaven's clear blue, + +And the plain's verdant hue, + +Alone I'll rejoice, + +Undisturbed by man's voice. + + +And there I'll pay homage + + To womanly merit, + + Observe it in spirit, + +In spirit pay homage; + +To echo alone + +Shall my secret be known. + + +CHORUS. + +[Faintly mingling with Damon's song in the distance.] + +To echo--alone-- + +Shall my secret--be known.-- + +MENALCAS. + +My friend, why meet I here with thee? + +Thou hast'nest not to join the festal throng? +No longer stay, but come with me, + +And mingle in the dance and song. + +DAMON. + +Thou'rt welcome, friend! but suffer me to roam + +Where these old beeches hide me from man's view: +Love seeks in solitude a home, + +And homage may retreat there too. + +MENALCAS. + +Thou seekest here a spurious fame, + +And hast a mind to-day to grieve me. +Love as thy portion thou mayst claim + +But homage thou must share with all, believe me! + +When their voices thousands raise, +And the dawn of morning praise, + + Rapture bringing, + + Blithely singing + + On before us, +Heart and ear in pleasure vie; + + + And when thousands join in chorus, + +With the feelings brightly glowing, + +And the wishes overflowing, +Forcibly they'll bear thee high. + +[The Chorus gradually approaches, from the distance.] + +DAMON. + +Distant strains are hither wending, + +And I'm gladden'd by the throng; +Yes, they're coming,--yes, descending + +To the valley from the height, + +MENALCAS. + +Let us haste, our footsteps blending + +With the rhythm of the song! +Yes, they come; their course they're bending + +Tow'rd the wood's green sward so bright. + +CHORUS. +[Gradually becoming louder.] + +Yes, we hither come, attending + +With the harmony of song, +As the hours their race are ending + +On this day of blest delight. + +ALL. + +Let none reveal +The thoughts we feel, +The aims we own! +Let joy alone + +Disclose the story! +She'll prove it right +And her delight + +Includes the glory, +Includes the bliss +Of days like this! + + 1813. +----- +RINALDO.* + +[This Cantata was written for Prince Frederick of Gotha, and set +to music by Winter, the Prince singing the part of Rinaldo.--See +the Annalen.] + +(* See Tasso's Gerusalemme Liberata, Canto XVI.) + +CHORUS. + +To the strand! quick, mount the bark! + +If no favouring zephyrs blow, + +Ply the oar and nimbly row, +And with zeal your prowess mark! + +O'er the sea we thus career. + +RINALDO. + + +Oh, let me linger one short moment here! +'Tis heaven's decree, I may not hence away. +The rugged cliffs, the wood-encircled bay, +Hold me a prisoner, and my flight delay. + +Ye were so fair, but now that dream is o'er; +The charms of earth, the charms of heaven are nought. +What keeps me in this spot so terror-fraught? + +My only joy is fled for evermore. + +Let me taste those days so sweet, + +Heav'n-descended, once again! +Heart, dear heart! ay, warmly beat! + + Spirit true, recall those days + + Freeborn breath thy gentle lays + +Mingled are with joy and pain. + +Round the beds, so richly gleaming, + +Rises up a palace fair; +All with rosy fragrance teeming, + +As in dream thou saw'st it ne'er. + +And this spacious garden round, + +Far extend the galleries; +Roses blossom near the ground, + +High in air, too, bloom the trees. + +Wat'ry flakes and jets are falling. + +Sweet and silv'ry strains arise; +While the turtle-dove is calling, + +And the nightingale replies. + +CHORUS. + +Gently come! feel no alarm, + +On a noble duty bent; +Vanish'd now is ev'ry charm + +That by magic power was lent. +Friendly words and greetings calm +On his wounds will pour soft balm. + +Fill his mind with sweet content. + +RINALDO. + +Hark! the turtle-dove is calling, + +And the nightingale replies; +Wat'ry flakes and jets are falling, + +Mingling with their melodies. + +But all of them say: + +Her only we mean; +But all fly away, + +As soon as she's seen,-- +The beauteous young maiden, + +With graces so rife, + +Then lily and rose + +In wreaths are entwining; + +In dancing combining, +Each zephyr that blows + +Its brother is greeting, + +All flying and meeting, +With balsam full laden, + +When waken'd to life. + +CHORUS. + +No! no longer may we wait; +Rouse him from his vision straight! +Show the adamantine shield! + +RINALDO. + +Woe! what form is here reveal'd! + +CHORUS. + +'Twill disclose the cheat to thee. + +RINALDO. + +Am I doom'd myself to see +Thus degraded evermore? + +CHORUS. + +Courage take, and all is o'er. + +RINALDO. + +Be it so! I'll take fresh heart, +From the spot beloved depart, +Leave Armida once again,-- +Come then! here no more remain. + +CHORUS. + +Yes, 'tis well! no more remain. + +SEMI-CHORUS. + +Away then! let's fly + +O'er the zephyr-kiss'd ocean! +The soul-lighted eye + +Sees armies in motion, +See proud banners wave + +O'er the dust-sprinkled course. + +CHORUS. + +From his forefathers brave + +Draws the hero new force. + +RINALDO. + +With sorrow laden, + +Within this valley's + +All-silent alleys +The fairest maiden + +Again I see. + +Twice can this be? +What! shall I hear it, +And not have spirit +To ease her pains? + +CHORUS. + +Unworthy chains? + +RINALDO. + +And now I've see her, + +Alas! how changed! +With cold demeanour. + +And looks estranged, +With ghostly tread,-- +All hope is fled, +Yes, fled for ever. +The lightnings quiver, +Each palace falls; +The godlike halls, +Each joyous hour +Of spirit-power, +With love's sweet day +All fade away! + +CHORUS. + +Yes, fade away! + +SEMI-CHORUS. + +Already are heard + +The prayers of the pious. + +Why longer deny us? +The favouring zephyr + +Forbids all delay. + +CHORUS. + +Away, then! away! + +RINALDO. + +With heart sadly stirr'd, + +Your command I receive; + +Ye force me to leave. +Unkind is the zephyr,-- + +Oh, wherefore not stay? + +CHORUS. + +Away, then! away! + + 1811. +----- +THE FIRST WALPURGIS-NIGHT. + +A DRUID. + + + SWEET smiles the May! + + The forest gay + +From frost and ice is freed; + + No snow is found, + + Glad songs resound + +Across the verdant mead. + + Upon the height + + The snow lies light, + +Yet thither now we go, +There to extol our Father's name, + +Whom we for ages know. +Amid the smoke shall gleam the flame; + +Thus pure the heart will grow. + +THE DRUIDS. + +Amid the smoke shall gleam the flame; +Extol we now our Father's name, + +Whom we for ages know! + +Up, up, then, let us go! + +ONE OF THE PEOPLE. + +Would ye, then, so rashly act? +Would ye instant death attract? +Know ye not the cruel threats + +Of the victors we obey? +Round about are placed their nets + +In the sinful heathen's way. +Ah! upon the lofty wall + +Wife and children slaughter they; +And we all +Hasten to a certain fall. + +CHORUS OF WOMEN. + +Ay, upon the camp's high wall + +All our children loved they slay. + +Ah, what cruel victors they! +And we all +Hasten to a certain fall. + +A DRUID. + + + Who fears to-day + + His rites to pay, + +Deserves his chains to wear. + + The forest's free! + + This wood take we, + +And straight a pile prepare! + + Yet in the wood + + To stay 'tis good + +By day, till all is still, +With watchers all around us plac'd + +Protecting you from ill. +With courage fresh, then let us haste + +Our duties to fulfil. + +CHORUS OF WATCHERS. + +Ye valiant watchers, now divide +Your numbers through the forest wide, + +And see that all is still, + +While they their rites fulfil. + +A WATCHER. + +Let us in a cunning wise, +Yon dull Christian priests surprise +With the devil of their talk + +We'll those very priests confound. +Come with prong, and come with fork. + +Raise a wild and rattling sound +Through the livelong night, and prowl + +All the rocky passes round. +Screechowl, owl, +Join in chorus with our howl! + +CHORUS OF WATCHERS. + +Come with prong, and come with fork, +Like the devil of their talk, +And with wildly rattling sound, +Prowl the desert rocks around! +Screechowl, owl, +Join in chorus with our howl! + +A DRUID. + + + Thus far 'tis right. + + That we by night + +Our Father's praises sing; + + Yet when 'tis day, + + To Thee we may + +A heart unsullied bring. + + 'Tis true that now, + + And often, Thou + +Fav'rest the foe in fight. +As from the smoke is freed the blaze, + +So let our faith burn bright! +And if they crush our golden ways, + +Who e'er can crush Thy light? + +A CHRISTIAN WATCHER. + +Comrades, quick! your aid afford! +All the brood of hell's abroad; +See how their enchanted forms + +Through and through with flames are glowing! +Dragon-women, men-wolf swarms, + +On in quick succession going! +Let us, let us haste to fly! + +Wilder yet the sounds are growing, +And the archfiend roars on high; +From the ground +Hellish vapours rise around. + +CHORUS OF CHRISTIAN WATCHERS. + +Terrible enchanted forms, +Dragon-women, men-wolf swarms! +Wilder yet the sounds are growing! +See, the archfiend comes, all-glowing! +From the ground +Hellish vapours rise around! + +CHORUS OF DRUIDS. + +As from the smoke is freed the blaze, + +So let our faith burn bright! +And if they crush our golden ways, + +Who e'er can crush Thy light? + + 1799. +----- + +ODES. + +----- + +THESE are the most singular of all the Poems of Goethe, and to +many will appear so wild and fantastic, as to leave anything but +a pleasing impression. Those at the beginning, addressed to his +friend Behrisch, were written at the age of eighteen, and most of +the remainder were composed while he was still quite young. +Despite, however, the extravagance of some of them, such as the +Winter Journey over the Hartz Mountains, and the Wanderer's +Storm-Song, nothing can be finer than the noble one entitled +Mahomet's Song, and others, such as the Spirit Song' over the +Waters, The God-like, and, above all, the magnificent sketch of +Prometheus, which forms part of an unfinished piece bearing the +same name, and called by Goethe a 'Dramatic Fragment.' + +TO MY FRIEND. + +[These three Odes are addressed to a certain Behrisch, who was +tutor to Count Lindenau, and of whom Goethe gives an odd account +at the end of the Seventh Book of his Autobiography.] + +FIRST ODE. + +TRANSPLANT the beauteous tree! +Gardener, it gives me pain; +A happier resting-place +Its trunk deserved. + +Yet the strength of its nature +To Earth's exhausting avarice, +To Air's destructive inroads, +An antidote opposed. + +See how it in springtime +Coins its pale green leaves! +Their orange-fragrance +Poisons each flyblow straight. + +The caterpillar's tooth +Is blunted by them; +With silv'ry hues they gleam +In the bright sunshine, + +Its twigs the maiden +Fain would twine in +Her bridal-garland; +Youths its fruit are seeking. + +See, the autumn cometh! +The caterpillar +Sighs to the crafty spider,-- +Sighs that the tree will not fade. + +Hov'ring thither +From out her yew-tree dwelling, +The gaudy foe advances +Against the kindly tree, + +And cannot hurt it, +But the more artful one +Defiles with nauseous venom +Its silver leaves; + +And sees with triumph +How the maiden shudders, +The youth, how mourns he, +On passing by. + +Transplant the beauteous tree! +Gardener, it gives me pain; +Tree, thank the gardener +Who moves thee hence! + + 1767. +----- +SECOND ODE. + +THOU go'st! I murmur-- +Go! let me murmur. +Oh, worthy man, +Fly from this land! + +Deadly marshes, +Steaming mists of October +Here interweave their currents, +Blending for ever. + +Noisome insects +Here are engender'd; +Fatal darkness +Veils their malice. + +The fiery-tongued serpent, +Hard by the sedgy bank, +Stretches his pamper'd body, +Caress'd by the sun's bright beams. + +Tempt no gentle night-rambles +Under the moon's cold twilight! +Loathsome toads hold their meetings +Yonder at every crossway. + +Injuring not, +Fear will they cause thee. +Oh, worthy man, +Fly from this land! + + 1767. +----- +THIRD ODE. + +BE void of feeling! +A heart that soon is stirr'd, +Is a possession sad +Upon this changing earth. + +Behrisch, let spring's sweet smile +Never gladden thy brow! +Then winter's gloomy tempests +Never will shadow it o'er. + +Lean thyself ne'er on a maiden's +Sorrow-engendering breast. +Ne'er on the arm, +Misery-fraught, of a friend. + +Already envy +From out his rocky ambush +Upon thee turns +The force of his lynx-like eyes, + +Stretches his talons, +On thee falls, +In thy shoulders +Cunningly plants them. + +Strong are his skinny arms, +As panther-claws; +He shaketh thee, +And rends thy frame. + +Death 'tis to part, +'Tis threefold death +To part, not hoping +Ever to meet again. + +Thou wouldst rejoice to leave +This hated land behind, +Wert thou not chain'd to me +With friendships flowery chains. + +Burst them! I'll not repine. +No noble friend +Would stay his fellow-captive, +If means of flight appear. + +The remembrance +Of his dear friend's freedom +Gives him freedom +In his dungeon. + +Thou go'st,--I'm left. +But e'en already +The last year's winged spokes +Whirl round the smoking axle. + +I number the turns +Of the thundering wheel; +The last one I bless.-- +Each bar then is broken, I'm free then as thou! + + 1767. +----- +MAHOMET'S SONG. + +[This song was intended to be introduced in a dramatic poem +entitled Mahomet, the plan of which was not carried out by +Goethe. He mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali towards +the end of the piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly +before his death, and when at the height of his glory, of which +it is typical.] + +SEE the rock-born stream! +Like the gleam +Of a star so bright +Kindly spirits +High above the clouds +Nourished him while youthful +In the copse between the cliffs. + +Young and fresh. +From the clouds he danceth +Down upon the marble rocks; +Then tow'rd heaven +Leaps exulting. + +Through the mountain-passes +Chaseth he the colour'd pebbles, +And, advancing like a chief, +Tears his brother streamlets with him +In his course. + +In the valley down below +'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers, +And the meadow +In his breath finds life. + +Yet no shady vale can stay him, +Nor can flowers, +Round his knees all-softly twining +With their loving eyes detain him; +To the plain his course he taketh, +Serpent-winding, + +Social streamlets +Join his waters. And now moves he +O'er the plain in silv'ry glory, +And the plain in him exults, +And the rivers from the plain, +And the streamlets from the mountain, +Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother, +Brother, take thy brethren with thee, +With thee to thine aged father, +To the everlasting ocean, +Who, with arms outstretching far, +Waiteth for us; +Ah, in vain those arms lie open +To embrace his yearning children; +For the thirsty sand consumes us +In the desert waste; the sunbeams +Drink our life-blood; hills around us +Into lakes would dam us! Brother, +Take thy brethren of the plain, +Take thy brethren of the mountain +With thee, to thy father's arms! + +Let all come, then!-- +And now swells he +Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people +Bears his regal flood on high! +And in triumph onward rolling, +Names to countries gives he,--cities +Spring to light beneath his foot. + +Ever, ever, on he rushes, +Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits, +Marble palaces, the offspring +Of his fullness, far behind. + +Cedar-houses bears the Atlas +On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring +In the breeze far, far above him +Thousand flags are gaily floating, +Bearing witness to his might. + +And so beareth he his brethren, +All his treasures, all his children, +Wildly shouting, to the bosom +Of his long-expectant sire. + + 1774. +----- +SPIRIT SONG OVER THE WATERS. + +THE soul of man +Resembleth water: +From heaven it cometh, +To heaven it soareth. +And then again +To earth descendeth, +Changing ever. + +Down from the lofty +Rocky wall +Streams the bright flood, +Then spreadeth gently +In cloudy billows +O'er the smooth rock, +And welcomed kindly, +Veiling, on roams it, +Soft murmuring, +Tow'rd the abyss. + +Cliffs projecting +Oppose its progress,-- +Angrily foams it +Down to the bottom, +Step by step. + +Now, in flat channel, +Through the meadowland steals it, +And in the polish'd lake +Each constellation +Joyously peepeth. + +Wind is the loving +Wooer of waters; +Wind blends together +Billows all-foaming. + +Spirit of man, +Thou art like unto water! +Fortune of man, +Thou art like unto wind! + + 1789.* +----- +MY GODDESS. + +SAY, which Immortal +Merits the highest reward? +With none contend I, +But I will give it +To the aye-changing, +Ever-moving +Wondrous daughter of Jove. +His best-beloved offspring. +Sweet Phantasy. + +For unto her +Hath he granted +All the fancies which erst +To none allow'd he +Saving himself; +Now he takes his pleasure +In the mad one. + +She may, crowned with roses, +With staff twined round with lilies, +Roam thro' flow'ry valleys, +Rule the butterfly-people, +And soft-nourishing dew +With bee-like lips +Drink from the blossom: + +Or else she may +With fluttering hair +And gloomy looks +Sigh in the wind +Round rocky cliffs, +And thousand-hued. +Like morn and even. +Ever changing, +Like moonbeam's light, +To mortals appear. + +Let us all, then, +Adore the Father! +The old, the mighty, +Who such a beauteous +Ne'er-fading spouse +Deigns to accord +To perishing mortals! + +To us alone +Doth he unite her, +With heavenly bonds, +While he commands her, +in joy and sorrow, +As a true spouse +Never to fly us. + +All the remaining +Races so poor +Of life-teeming earth. +In children so rich. +Wander and feed +In vacant enjoyment, +And 'mid the dark sorrows +Of evanescent +Restricted life,-- +Bow'd by the heavy +Yoke of Necessity. + +But unto us he +Hath his most versatile, +Most cherished daughter +Granted,--what joy! + +Lovingly greet her +As a beloved one! +Give her the woman's +Place in our home! + +And oh, may the aged +Stepmother Wisdom +Her gentle spirit +Ne'er seek to harm! + +Yet know I her sister, +The older, sedater, +Mine own silent friend; +Oh, may she never, +Till life's lamp is quench'd, +Turn away from me,-- +That noble inciter, +Comforter,--Hope! + + 1781. +----- +WINTER JOURNEY OVER THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. + +[The following explanation is necessary, in order to make this +ode in any way intelligible. The Poet is supposed to leave his +companions, who are proceeding on a hunting expedition in winter, +in order himself to pay a visit to a hypochondriacal friend, and +also to see the mining in the Hartz mountains. The ode +alternately describes, in a very fragmentary and peculiar manner, +the naturally happy disposition of the Poet himself and the +unhappiness of his friend; it pictures the wildness of the road +and the dreariness of the prospect, which is relieved at one spot +by the distant sight of a town, a very vague allusion to which is +made in the third strophe; it recalls the hunting party on which +his companions have gone; and after an address to Love, concludes +by a contrast between the unexplored recesses of the highest peak +of the Hartz and the metalliferous veins of its smaller +brethren.] + +LIKE the vulture +Who on heavy morning clouds +With gentle wing reposing +Looks for his prey,-- +Hover, my song! + +For a God hath +Unto each prescribed +His destined path, +Which the happy one +Runs o'er swiftly +To his glad goal: +He whose heart cruel +Fate hath contracted, +Struggles but vainly +Against all the barriers +The brazen thread raises, +But which the harsh shears +Must one day sever. + +Through gloomy thickets +Presseth the wild deer on, +And with the sparrows +Long have the wealthy +Settled themselves in the marsh. + +Easy 'tis following the chariot +That by Fortune is driven, +Like the baggage that moves +Over well-mended highways +After the train of a prince. + +But who stands there apart? +In the thicket, lost is his path; +Behind him the bushes +Are closing together, +The grass springs up again, +The desert engulphs him. + +Ah, who'll heal his afflictions, +To whom balsam was poison, +Who, from love's fullness, +Drank in misanthropy only? +First despised, and now a despiser, +He, in secret, wasteth +All that he is worth, +In a selfishness vain. +If there be, on thy psaltery, +Father of Love, but one tone +That to his ear may be pleasing, +Oh, then, quicken his heart! +Clear his cloud-enveloped eyes +Over the thousand fountains +Close by the thirsty one +In the desert. + +Thou who createst much joy, +For each a measure o'erflowing, +Bless the sons of the chase +When on the track of the prey, +With a wild thirsting for blood, +Youthful and joyous +Avenging late the injustice +Which the peasant resisted +Vainly for years with his staff. + +But the lonely one veil +Within thy gold clouds! +Surround with winter-green, +Until the roses bloom again, +The humid locks, +Oh Love, of thy minstrel! + +With thy glimmering torch +Lightest thou him +Through the fords when 'tis night, +Over bottomless places +On desert-like plains; +With the thousand colours of morning +Gladd'nest his bosom; +With the fierce-biting storm +Bearest him proudly on high; +Winter torrents rush from the cliffs,-- +Blend with his psalms; +An altar of grateful delight +He finds in the much-dreaded mountain's +Snow-begirded summit, +Which foreboding nations +Crown'd with spirit-dances. + +Thou stand'st with breast inscrutable, +Mysteriously disclosed, +High o'er the wondering world, +And look'st from clouds +Upon its realms and its majesty, +Which thou from the veins of thy brethren +Near thee dost water. + + 1777. +----- +TO FATHER* KRONOS. + +[written in a post-chaise.] + +(* In the original, Schwager, which has the twofold meaning of +brother-in-law and postilion.) + +HASTEN thee, Kronos! +On with clattering trot +Downhill goeth thy path; +Loathsome dizziness ever, +When thou delayest, assails me. +Quick, rattle along, +Over stock and stone let thy trot +Into life straightway lead + +Now once more +Up the toilsome ascent +Hasten, panting for breath! +Up, then, nor idle be,-- +Striving and hoping, up, up! + +Wide, high, glorious the view +Gazing round upon life, +While from mount unto mount +Hovers the spirit eterne, +Life eternal foreboding. + +Sideways a roof's pleasant shade +Attracts thee, +And a look that promises coolness +On the maidenly threshold. +There refresh thee! And, maiden, +Give me this foaming draught also, +Give me this health-laden look! + +Down, now! quicker still, down! +See where the sun sets +Ere he sets, ere old age +Seizeth me in the morass, +Ere my toothless jaws mumble, +And my useless limbs totter; +While drunk with his farewell beam +Hurl me,--a fiery sea +Foaming still in mine eye,-- +Hurl me, while dazzled and reeling, +Down to the gloomy portal of hell. + +Blow, then, gossip, thy horn, +Speed on with echoing trot, +So that Orcus may know we are coming; +So that our host may with joy +Wait at the door to receive us. + + 1774. +----- +THE WANDERER'S STORM-SONG. + +[Goethe says of this ode, that it is the only one remaining out +of several strange hymns and dithyrambs composed by him at a +period of great unhappiness, when the love-affair between him and +Frederica had been broken off by him. He used to sing them while +wandering wildly about the country. This particular one was +caused by his being caught in a tremendous storm on one of these +occasions. He calls it a half-crazy piece (halkunsinn), and the +reader will probably agree with him.] + +He whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius, +Feels no dread within his heart +At the tempest or the rain. +He whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius, +Will to the rain-clouds, +Will to the hailstorm, +Sing in reply +As the lark sings, +Oh thou on high! + +Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius, +Thou wilt raise above the mud-track +With thy fiery pinions. +He will wander, +As, with flowery feet, +Over Deucalion's dark flood, +Python-slaying, light, glorious, +Pythius Apollo. + +Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius, +Thou wilt place upon thy fleecy pinion +When he sleepeth on the rock,-- +Thou wilt shelter with thy guardian wing +In the forest's midnight hour. + +Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius, +Thou wilt wrap up warmly +In the snow-drift; +Tow'rd the warmth approach the Muses, +Tow'rd the warmth approach the Graces. + +Ye Muses, hover round me! +Ye Graces also! +That is water, that is earth, +And the son of water and of earth +Over which I wander, +Like the gods. + +Ye are pure, like the heart of the water, +Ye are pure like the marrow of earth, +Hov'ring round me, while I hover +Over water, o'er the earth +Like the gods. + +Shall he, then, return, +The small, the dark, the fiery peasant? +Shall he, then, return, waiting +Only thy gifts, oh Father Bromius, +And brightly gleaming, warmth-spreading fire? +Return with joy? +And I, whom ye attended, +Ye Muses and ye Graces, +Whom all awaits that ye, +Ye Muses and ye Graces, +Of circling bliss in life +Have glorified--shall I +Return dejected? + +Father Bromius! +Thourt the Genius, +Genius of ages, +Thou'rt what inward glow +To Pindar was, +What to the world +Phoebus Apollo. + +Woe! Woe Inward warmth, +Spirit-warmth, +Central-point! +Glow, and vie with +Phoebus Apollo! +Coldly soon +His regal look +Over thee will swiftly glide,-- + +Envy-struck +Linger o'er the cedar's strength, +Which, to flourish, +Waits him not. + +Why doth my lay name thee the last? +Thee, from whom it began, +Thee, in whom it endeth, +Thee, from whom it flows, +Jupiter Pluvius! +Tow'rd thee streams my song. +And a Castalian spring +Runs as a fellow-brook, +Runs to the idle ones, +Mortal, happy ones, +Apart from thee, +Who cov'rest me around, +Jupiter Pluvius! + +Not by the elm-tree +Him didst thou visit, +With the pair of doves +Held in his gentle arm,-- +With the beauteous garland of roses,-- +Caressing him, so blest in his flowers, +Anacreon, +Storm-breathing godhead! +Not in the poplar grove, +Near the Sybaris' strand, +Not on the mountain's +Sun-illumined brow +Didst thou seize him, +The flower-singing, +Honey-breathing, +Sweetly nodding +Theocritus. + +When the wheels were rattling, +Wheel on wheel tow'rd the goal, +High arose +The sound of the lash +Of youths with victory glowing, +In the dust rolling, +As from the mountain fall +Showers of stones in the vale-- +Then thy soul was brightly glowing, Pindar-- +Glowing? Poor heart! + +There, on the hill,-- +Heavenly might! +But enough glow +Thither to wend, +Where is my cot! + + 1771. +----- +THE SEA-VOYAGE. + +MANY a day and night my bark stood ready laden; +Waiting fav'ring winds, I sat with true friends round me, +Pledging me to patience and to courage, +In the haven. + +And they spoke thus with impatience twofold: +"Gladly pray we for thy rapid passage, +Gladly for thy happy voyage; fortune +In the distant world is waiting for thee, +In our arms thoult find thy prize, and love too, +When returning." + +And when morning came, arose an uproar, +And the sailors' joyous shouts awoke us; +All was stirring, all was living, moving, +Bent on sailing with the first kind zephyr. + +And the sails soon in the breeze are swelling, +And the sun with fiery love invites us; +Fill'd the sails are, clouds on high are floating, +On the shore each friend exulting raises +Songs of hope, in giddy joy expecting +Joy the voyage through, as on the morn of sailing, +And the earliest starry nights so radiant. + +But by God-sent changing winds ere long he's driven +Sideways from the course he had intended, +And he feigns as though he would surrender, +While he gently striveth to outwit them, + +To his goal, e'en when thus press'd, still faithful. +But from out the damp grey distance rising, +Softly now the storm proclaims its advent, +Presseth down each bird upon the waters, +Presseth down the throbbing hearts of mortals. +And it cometh. At its stubborn fury, +Wisely ev'ry sail the seaman striketh; +With the anguish-laden ball are sporting +Wind and water. + +And on yonder shore are gather'd standing, +Friends and lovers, trembling for the bold one: +"Why, alas, remain'd he here not with us! +Ah, the tempest! Cast away by fortune! +Must the good one perish in this fashion? +Might not he perchance.... Ye great immortals!" + +Yet he, like a man, stands by his rudder; +With the bark are sporting wind and water, +Wind and water sport not with his bosom: +On the fierce deep looks he, as a master,-- +In his gods, or shipwreck'd, or safe landed, +Trusting ever. + + 1776. +----- +THE EAGLE AND DOVE. + +IN search of prey once raised his pinions +An eaglet; +A huntsman's arrow came, and reft +His right wing of all motive power. +Headlong he fell into a myrtle grove, +For three long days on anguish fed, +In torment writhed +Throughout three long, three weary nights; +And then was cured, +Thanks to all-healing Nature's +Soft, omnipresent balm. +He crept away from out the copse, +And stretch'd his wing--alas! +Lost is all power of flight-- +He scarce can lift himself +From off the ground +To catch some mean, unworthy prey, +And rests, deep-sorrowing, +On the low rock beside the stream. +Up to the oak he looks, +Looks up to heaven, +While in his noble eye there gleams a tear. +Then, rustling through the myrtle boughs, behold, +There comes a wanton pair of doves, +Who settle down, and, nodding, strut +O'er the gold sands beside the stream, +And gradually approach; +Their red-tinged eyes, so full of love, +Soon see the inward-sorrowing one. +The male, inquisitively social, leaps +On the next bush, and looks +Upon him kindly and complacently. +"Thou sorrowest," murmurs he: +"Be of good cheer, my friend! +All that is needed for calm happiness +Hast thou not here? +Hast thou not pleasure in the golden bough +That shields thee from the day's fierce glow? +Canst thou not raise thy breast to catch, +On the soft moss beside the brook, +The sun's last rays at even? +Here thou mayst wander through the flowers' fresh dew, +Pluck from the overflow +The forest-trees provide, +Thy choicest food,--mayst quench +Thy light thirst at the silvery spring. +Oh friend, true happiness +Lies in contentedness, +And that contentedness +Finds everywhere enough." +"Oh, wise one!" said the eagle, while he sank +In deep and ever deep'ning thought-- +"Oh Wisdom! like a dove thou speakest!" + + 1774.* +----- +PROMETHEUS. + +COVER thy spacious heavens, Zeus, +With clouds of mist, +And, like the boy who lops +The thistles' heads, +Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks, +Yet thou must leave +My earth still standing; +My cottage too, which was not raised by thee; +Leave me my hearth, +Whose kindly glow +By thee is envied. + +I know nought poorer +Under the sun, than ye gods! +Ye nourish painfully, +With sacrifices +And votive prayers, +Your majesty: +Ye would e'en starve, +If children and beggars +Were not trusting fools. + +While yet a child +And ignorant of life, +I turned my wandering gaze +Up tow'rd the sun, as if with him +There were an ear to hear my wailings, +A heart, like mine, +To feel compassion for distress. + +Who help'd me +Against the Titans' insolence? +Who rescued me from certain death, +From slavery? +Didst thou not do all this thyself, +My sacred glowing heart? +And glowedst, young and good, +Deceived with grateful thanks +To yonder slumbering one? + +I honour thee! and why? +Hast thou e'er lighten'd the sorrows +Of the heavy laden? +Hast thou e'er dried up the tears +Of the anguish-stricken? +Was I not fashion'd to be a man +By omnipotent Time, +And by eternal Fate, +Masters of me and thee? + +Didst thou e'er fancy +That life I should learn to hate, +And fly to deserts, +Because not all +My blossoming dreams grew ripe? + +Here sit I, forming mortals +After my image; +A race resembling me, +To suffer, to weep, +To enjoy, to be glad, +And thee to scorn, +As I! + + 1773. +----- +GANYMEDE. + +How, in the light of morning, +Round me thou glowest, +Spring, thou beloved one! +With thousand-varying loving bliss +The sacred emotions +Born of thy warmth eternal +Press 'gainst my bosom, +Thou endlessly fair one! +Could I but hold thee clasp'd +Within mine arms! + +Ah! upon thy bosom +Lay I, pining, +And then thy flowers, thy grass, +Were pressing against my heart. +Thou coolest the burning +Thirst of my bosom, +Beauteous morning breeze! +The nightingale then calls me +Sweetly from out of the misty vale. +I come, I come! +Whither? Ah, whither? + +Up, up, lies my course. +While downward the clouds +Are hovering, the clouds +Are bending to meet yearning love. +For me, +Within thine arms +Upwards! +Embraced and embracing! +Upwards into thy bosom, +Oh Father all-loving! + + 1789.* +----- +THE BOUNDARIES OF HUMANITY. + +WHEN the primeval +All-holy Father +Sows with a tranquil hand +From clouds, as they roll, +Bliss-spreading lightnings +Over the earth, +Then do I kiss the last +Hem of his garment, +While by a childlike awe +Fiil'd is my breast. + +For with immortals +Ne'er may a mortal +Measure himself. +If he soar upwards +And if he touch +With his forehead the stars, +Nowhere will rest then +His insecure feet, +And with him sport +Tempest and cloud. + +Though with firm sinewy +Limbs he may stand +On the enduring +Well-grounded earth, +All he is ever +Able to do, +Is to resemble +The oak or the vine. + +Wherein do gods +Differ from mortals? +In that the former +See endless billows +Heaving before them; +Us doth the billow +Lift up and swallow, +So that we perish. + +Small is the ring +Enclosing our life, +And whole generations +Link themselves firmly +On to existence's +Chain never-ending. + + 1789. * +----- +THE GODLIKE. + +NOBLE be man, +Helpful and good! +For that alone +Distinguisheth him +From all the beings +Unto us known. + +Hail to the beings, +Unknown and glorious, +Whom we forebode! +From his example +Learn we to know them! + +For unfeeling +Nature is ever: +On bad and on good +The sun alike shineth; +And on the wicked, +As on the best, +The moon and stars gleam. + +Tempest and torrent, +Thunder and hail, +Roar on their path, +Seizing the while, +As they haste onward, +One after another. + +Even so, fortune +Gropes 'mid the throng-- +Innocent boyhood's +Curly head seizing,-- +Seizing the hoary +Head of the sinner. + +After laws mighty, +Brazen, eternal, +Must all we mortals +Finish the circuit +Of our existence. + +Man, and man only +Can do the impossible; +He 'tis distinguisheth, +Chooseth and judgeth; +He to the moment +Endurance can lend. + +He and he only +The good can reward, +The bad can he punish, +Can heal and can save; +All that wanders and strays +Can usefully blend. +And we pay homage +To the immortals +As though they were men, +And did in the great, +What the best, in the small, +Does or might do. + +Be the man that is noble, +Both helpful and good. +Unweariedly forming +The right and the useful, +A type of those beings +Our mind hath foreshadow'd! + + 1782. +----- + +MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. + +----- +in the wares before you spread, +Types of all things may be read. +----- +THE GERMAN PARNASSUS. + +'NEATH the shadow + +Of these bushes, +On the meadow + +Where the cooling water gushes. +Phoebus gave me, when a boy, +All life's fullness to enjoy. +So, in silence, as the God +Bade them with his sov'reign nod, +Sacred Muses train'd my days +To his praise.-- +With the bright and silv'ry flood +Of Parnassus stirr'd my blood, +And the seal so pure and chaste +By them on my lips was placed. + +With her modest pinions, see, +Philomel encircles me! +In these bushes, in yon grove, + +Calls she to her sister-throng, + +And their heavenly choral song +Teaches me to dream of love. + +Fullness waxes in my breast +Of emotions social, blest; +Friendship's nurturedÄlove awakes,-- +And the silence Phoebus breaks +Of his mountains, of his vales, +Sweetly blow the balmy gales; +All for whom he shows affection, +Who are worthy his protection, +Gladly follow his direction. + +This one comes with joyous bearing + +And with open, radiant gaze; +That a sterner look is wearing, +This one, scarcely cured, with daring + +Wakes the strength of former days; +For the sweet, destructive flame +Pierced his marrow and his frame. +That which Amor stole before +Phoebus only can restore, +Peace, and joy, and harmony, +Aspirations pure and free. + +Brethren, rise ye! +Numbers prize ye! +Deeds of worth resemble they. + +Who can better than the bard +Guide a friend when gone astray? + +If his duty he regard, +More he'll do, than others may. + +Yes! afar I hear them sing! +Yes! I hear them touch the string, +And with mighty godlike stroke + +Right and duty they inspire, +And evoke, + +As they sing, and wake the lyre, +Tendencies of noblest worth, +To each type of strength give birth. + +Phantasies of sweetest power +Flower +Round about on ev'ry bough, +Bending now +Like the magic wood of old, +'Neath the fruit that gleams like gold. + +What we feel and what we view + +In the land of highest bliss,-- + +This dear soil, a sun like this,-- +Lures the best of women too. +And the Muses' breathings blest +Rouse the maiden's gentle breast, +Tune the throat to minstrelsy, +And with cheeks of beauteous dye, +Bid it sing a worthy song, +Sit the sister-band among; +And their strains grow softer still, +As they vie with earnest will. + +One amongst the band betimes + +Goes to wander +By the beeches, 'neath the limes, + +Yonder seeking, finding yonder +That which in the morning-grove +She had lost through roguish Love, +All her breast's first aspirations, +And her heart's calm meditations, +To the shady wood so fair + +Gently stealing, +Takes she that which man can ne'er + +Duly merit,--each soft feeling,-- +Disregards the noontide ray +And the dew at close of day,Ä + +In the plain her path she loses. +Ne'er disturb her on her way! + +Seek her silently, ye Muses + +Shouts I hear, wherein the sound +Of the waterfall is drown'd. +From the grove loud clamours rise, +Strange the tumult, strange the cries. +See I rightly? Can it be? +To the very sanctuary, +Lo, an impious troop in-hies! + +O'er the land +Streams the band; +Hot desire, +Drunken-fire +In their gaze +Wildly plays,-- +Makes their hair +Bristle there. +And the troop, +With fell swoop, +Women, men, +Coming then, +Ply their blows +And expose, +Void of shame, +All the frame. +Iron shot, +Fierce and hot, +Strike with fear +On the ear; +All they slay +On their way. +O'er the land +Pours the band; +All take flight +At their sight. + +Ah, o'er ev'ry plant they rush! +Ah, their cruel footsteps crush +All the flowers that fill their path! +Who will dare to stem their wrath? + +Brethren, let us venture all! + +Virtue in your pure cheek glows. +Phoebus will attend our call + +When he sees our heavy woes; +And that we may have aright +Weapons suited to the fight, +He the mountain shaketh now-- +From its brow +Rattling down +Stone on stone +Through the thicket spread appear. +Brethren, seize them! Wherefore fear? +Now the villain crew assail, +As though with a storm of hail, +And expel the strangers wild +From these regions soft and mild +Where the sun has ever smil'd! + +What strange wonder do I see? +Can it be? +All my limbs of power are reft. +And all strength my hand has left. +Can it he? +None are strangers that I see! +And our brethren 'tis who go +On before, the way to show! +Oh, the reckless impious ones! +How they, with their jarring tones, +Beat the time, as on they hie! +Quick, my brethren!--let us fly! + +To the rash ones, yet a word! +Ay, my voice shall now be heard, +As a peal of thunder, strong! + +Words as poets' arms were made,-- + +When the god will he obey'd, +Follow fast his darts ere long. + +Was it possible that ye +Thus your godlike dignity +Should forget? The Thyrsus rude + +Must a heavy burden feel + +To the hand but wont to steal +O'er the lyre in gentle mood. +From the sparkling waterfalls, +From the brook that purling calls, +Shall Silenus' loathsome beast +Be allow'd at will to feast? +Aganippe's * wave he sips +With profane and spreading lips,-- +With ungainly feet stamps madly, +Till the waters flow on sadly. + +Fain I'd think myself deluded + +In the sadd'ning sounds I hear; +From the holy glades secluded + +Hateful tones assail the ear. +Laughter wild (exchange how mournful!) + +Takes the place of love's sweet dream; +Women-haters and the scornful + +In exulting chorus scream. +Nightingale and turtle dove + +Fly their nests so warm and chaste, +And, inflamed with sensual love, + +Holds the Faun the Nymph embrac'd. +Here a garment's torn away, + +Scoffs succeed their sated bliss, +While the god, with angry ray, + +Looks upon each impious kiss. + +Vapour, smoke, as from a fire, + +And advancing clouds I view; +Chords not only grace the lyre, + +For the bow its chords bath too. +Even the adorer's heart + +Dreads the wild advancing hand, +For the flames that round them dart + + Show the fierce destroyer's hand. + +Oh neglect not what I say, + +For I speak it lovingly! +From our boundaries haste away, + +From the god's dread anger fly! +Cleanse once more the holy place, + +Turn the savage train aside! +Earth contains upon its face + +Many a spot unsanctified; +Here we only prize the good. + +Stars unsullied round us burn. + +If ye, in repentant mood, + +From your wanderings would return,-- +If ye fail to find the bliss + +That ye found with us of yore,-- +Or when lawless mirth like this + +Gives your hearts delight no more,-- +Then return in pilgrim guise, + +Gladly up the mountain go, +While your strains repentant rise, + +And our brethren's advent show. + +Let a new-born wreath entwine + +Solemnly your temples round; +Rapture glows in hearts divine + +When a long-lost sinner's found. +Swifter e'en than Lathe's flood + +Round Death's silent house can play, +Ev'ry error of the good + +Will love's chalice wash away. +All will haste your steps to meet, + +As ye come in majesty,-- +Men your blessing will entreat;-- + +Ours ye thus will doubly be! + + 1798. +(* Aganippe--A spring in Boeotia, which arose out of Mount +Helicon, and was sacred to Apollo and the Muses.) +----- +LILY'S MENAGERIE. + +[Goethe describes this much-admired Poem, which he wrote in +honour of his love Lily, as being "designed to change his +surrender of her into despair, by drolly-fretful images."] + +THERE'S no menagerie, I vow, + +Excels my Lily's at this minute; + +She keeps the strangest creatures in it, +And catches them, she knows not how. + +Oh, how they hop, and run, and rave, +And their clipp'd pinions wildly wave,-- +Poor princes, who must all endure +The pangs of love that nought can cure. + +What is the fairy's name?--Is't Lily?--Ask not me! +Give thanks to Heaven if she's unknown to thee. + +Oh what a cackling, what a shrieking, + +When near the door she takes her stand, + +With her food-basket in her hand! +Oh what a croaking, what a squeaking! +Alive all the trees and the bushes appear, +While to her feet whole troops draw near; +The very fish within, the water clear +Splash with impatience and their heads protrude; +And then she throws around the food +With such a look!--the very gods delighting +(To say nought of beasts). There begins, then, a biting, +A picking, a pecking, a sipping, +And each o'er the legs of another is tripping, +And pushing, and pressing, and flapping, +And chasing, and fuming, and snapping, +And all for one small piece of bread, +To which, though dry, her fair hands give a taste, +As though it in ambrosia had been plac'd. + +And then her look! the tone + +With which she calls: Pipi! Pipi! +Would draw Jove's eagle from his throne; +Yes, Venus' turtle doves, I wean, +And the vain peacock e'en, +Would come, I swear, +Soon as that tone had reach'd them through the air. + +E'en from a forest dark had she + +Enticed a bear, unlick'd, ill-bred, + +And, by her wiles alluring, led +To join the gentle company, +Until as tame as they was he: +(Up to a certain point, be't understood!) +How fair, and, ah, how good +She seem'd to be! I would have drain'd my blood +To water e'en her flow'rets sweet. + +"Thou sayest: I! Who? How? And where?"-- +Well, to be plain, good Sirs--I am the bear; + + In a net-apron, caught, alas! + +Chain'd by a silk-thread at her feet. + + But how this wonder came to pass +I'll tell some day, if ye are curious; +Just now, my temper's much too furious. + +Ah, when I'm in the corner plac'd, + +And hear afar the creatures snapping, + +And see the flipping and the flapping, + + I turn around + + With growling sound, + +And backward run a step in haste, + + And look around + + With growling sound. + +Then run again a step in haste, +And to my former post go round. + +But suddenly my anger grows, +A mighty spirit fills my nose, +My inward feelings all revolt. +A creature such as thou! a dolt! +Pipi, a squirrel able nuts to crack! +I bristle up my shaggy back +Unused a slave to be. +I'm laughed at by each trim and upstart tree +To scorn. The bowling-green I fly, + +With neatly-mown and well-kept grass: + +The box makes faces as I pass,-- +Into the darkest thicket hasten I, +Hoping to 'scape from the ring, +Over the palings to spring! +Vainly I leap and climb; + +I feel a leaden spell. + +That pinions me as well, +And when I'm fully wearied out in time, +I lay me down beside some mock-cascade, + +And roll myself half dead, and foam, and cry, + +And, ah! no Oreads hear my sigh, +Excepting those of china made! + +But, ah, with sudden power + +In all my members blissful feelings reign! +'Tis she who singeth yonder in her bower! + +I hear that darling, darling voice again. +The air is warm, and teems with fragrance clear, +Sings she perchance for me alone to hear? + +I haste, and trample down the shrubs amain; +The trees make way, the bushes all retreat, +And so--the beast is lying at her feet. + +She looks at him: "The monster's droll enough! + +He's, for a bear, too mild, + +Yet, for a dog, too wild, +So shaggy, clumsy, rough!" +Upon his back she gently strokes her foot; + +He thinks himself in Paradise. +What feelings through his seven senses shoot! + +But she looks on with careless eyes. +I lick her soles, and kiss her shoes, + +As gently as a bear well may; +Softly I rise, and with a clever ruse + +Leap on her knee.--On a propitious day +She suffers it; my ears then tickles she, + +And hits me a hard blow in wanton play; +I growl with new-born ecstasy; +Then speaks she in a sweet vain jest, I wot +"Allons lout doux! eh! la menotte! +Et faites serviteur +Comme un joli seigneur." +Thus she proceeds with sport and glee; + +Hope fills the oft-deluded beast; +Yet if one moment he would lazy be, + +Her fondness all at once hath ceas'd. + +She doth a flask of balsam-fire possess, + +Sweeter than honey bees can make, + +One drop of which she'll on her finger take, +When soften'd by his love and faithfulness, + +Wherewith her monster's raging thirst to slake; +Then leaves me to myself, and flies at last, +And I, unbound, yet prison'd fast +By magic, follow in her train, +Seek for her, tremble, fly again. +The hapless creature thus tormenteth she, + +Regardless of his pleasure or his woe; +Ha! oft half-open'd does she leave the door for me, + +And sideways looks to learn if I will fly or no. +And I--Oh gods! your hands alone +Can end the spell that's o'er me thrown; +Free me, and gratitude my heart will fill; + +And yet from heaven ye send me down no aid-- + +Not quite in vain doth life my limbs pervade: +I feel it! Strength is left me still. + + 1775. +----- +TO CHARLOTTE. + +'MIDST the noise of merriment and glee, + +'Midst full many a sorrow, many a care, +Charlotte, I remember, we remember thee, + +How, at evening's hour so fair, +Thou a kindly hand didst reach us, + +When thou, in some happy place + +Where more fair is Nature s face, + +Many a lightly-hidden trace +Of a spirit loved didst teach us. + +Well 'tis that thy worth I rightly knew,-- + +That I, in the hour when first we met, + +While the first impression fill'd me yet, +Call'd thee then a girl both good and true. + +Rear'd in silence, calmly, knowing nought, + +On the world we suddenly are thrown; +Hundred thousand billows round us sport; + +All things charm us--many please alone, +Many grieve us, and as hour on hour is stealing, + +To and fro our restless natures sway; +First we feel, and then we find each feeling + +By the changeful world-stream borne away. + +Well I know, we oft within us find + +Many a hope and many a smart. +Charlotte, who can know our mind? + +Charlotte, who can know our heart? +Ah! 'twould fain be understood, 'twould fain o'erflow + +In some creature's fellow-feelings blest, +And, with trust, in twofold measure know + +All the grief and joy in Nature's breast. + +Then thine eye is oft around thee cast, + +But in vain, for all seems closed for ever. +Thus the fairest part of life is madly pass'd + +Free from storm, but resting never: +To thy sorrow thou'rt to-day repell'd + +By what yesterday obey'd thee. +Can that world by thee be worthy held + +Which so oft betray'd thee? + +Which, 'mid all thy pleasures and thy pains, + +Lived in selfish, unconcern'd repose? +See, the soul its secret cells regains, + +And the heart--makes haste to close. +Thus found I thee, and gladly went to meet thee; + +"She's worthy of all love!" I cried, +And pray'd that Heaven with purest bliss might greet thee, + +Which in thy friend it richly hath supplied. + + 1776.* +----- +LOVE'S DISTRESSES. + +WHO will hear me? Whom shall I lament to? +Who would pity me that heard my sorrows? +Ah, the lip that erst so many raptures +Used to taste, and used to give responsive, +Now is cloven, and it pains me sorely; +And it is not thus severely wounded +By my mistress having caught me fiercely, +And then gently bitten me, intending +To secure her friend more firmly to her: +No, my tender lip is crack'd thus, only +By the winds, o'er rime and frost proceeding, +Pointed, sharp, unloving, having met me. +Now the noble grape's bright juice commingled +With the bee's sweet juice, upon the fire +Of my hearth, shall ease me of my torment. +Ah, what use will all this be, if with it +Love adds not a drop of his own balsam? + + 1789.* +----- +THE MUSAGETES. + +IN the deepest nights of Winter +To the Muses kind oft cried I: +"Not a ray of morn is gleaming, +Not a sign of daylight breaking; +Bring, then, at the fitting moment, +Bring the lamp's soft glimm'ring lustre, +'Stead of Phoebus and Aurora, +To enliven my still labours!" +Yet they left me in my slumbers, +Dull and unrefreshing, lying, +And to each late-waken'd morning +Follow'd days devoid of profit. + +When at length return'd the spring-time, +To the nightingales thus spake I: +"Darling nightingales, oh, beat ye +Early, early at my window,-- +Wake me from the heavy slumber +That chains down the youth so strongly!" +Yet the love-o'erflowing songsters +Their sweet melodies protracted +Through the night before my window, +Kept awake my loving spirit, +Rousing new and tender yearnings +In my newly-waken'd bosom. +And the night thus fleeted o'er me, +And Aurora found me sleeping,-- +Ay, the sun could scarce arouse me. + +Now at length is come the Summer, +And the early fly so busy +Draws me from my pleasing slumbers +At the first-born morning-glimmer. +Mercilessly then returns she, +Though the half-aroused one often +Scares her from him with impatience, +And she lures her shameless sisters, +So that from my weary eyelids +Kindly sleep ere long is driven. +From my couch then boldly spring I, +And I seek the darling Muses, +in the beechen-grove I find them, +Full of pieasure to receive me; +And to the tormenting insects +Owe I many a golden hour. +Thus be ye, unwelcome beings, +Highly valued by the poet, +As the flies my numbers tell of. + + 1798. +----- +MORNING LAMENT. + +OH thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden, +Tell me what great sin have I committed, +That thou keep'st me to the rack thus fasten'd, +That thou hast thy solemn promise broken? + +'Twas but yestere'en that thou with fondness +Press'd my hand, and these sweet accents murmured: +"Yes, I'll come, I'll come when morn approacheth, +Come, my friend, full surely to thy chamber." + +On the latch I left my doors, unfasten'd, +Having first with care tried all the hinges, +And rejoic'd right well to find they creak'd not. + +What a night of expectation pass'd I! +For I watch'd, and ev'ry chime I number'd; +If perchance I slept a few short moments, +Still my heart remain'd awake forever, +And awoke me from my gentle slumbers. + +Yes, then bless'd I night's o'erhanging darkness, +That so calmly cover'd all things round me; +I enjoy'd the universal silence, +While I listen'd ever in the silence, +If perchance the slightest sounds were stirring. + +"Had she only thoughts, my thoughts resembling, +Had she only feelings, like my feelings, +She would not await the dawn of morning. +But, ere this, would surely have been with me." + +Skipp'd a kitten on the floor above me, +Scratch'd a mouse a panel in the corner, +Was there in the house the slightest motion, +Ever hoped I that I heard thy footstep, +Ever thought I that I heard thee coming. +And so lay I long, and ever longer, +And already was the daylight dawning, +And both here and there were signs of movement. + +"Is it yon door? Were it my door only!" +In my bed I lean'd upon my elbow, +Looking tow'rd the door, now half-apparent, +If perchance it might not be in motion. +Both the wings upon the latch continued, +On the quiet hinges calmly hanging. + +And the day grew bright and brighter ever; +And I heard my neighbour's door unbolted, +As he went to earn his daily wages, +And ere long I heard the waggons rumbling, +And the city gates were also open'd, +While the market-place, in ev'ry corner, +Teem'd with life and bustle and confusion. + +In the house was going now and coming +Up and down the stairs, and doors were creaking +Backwards now, now forwards,--footsteps clatter'd +Yet, as though it were a thing all-living, +From my cherish'd hope I could not tear me. + +When at length the sun, in hated splendour. +Fell upon my walls, upon my windows, +Up I sprang, and hasten'd to the garden, +There to blend my breath, so hot and yearning, +With the cool refreshing morning breezes, +And, it might be, even there to meet thee: +But I cannot find thee in the arbour, +Or the avenue of lofty lindens. + + 1789.* +----- +THE VISIT. + +FAIN had I to-day surprised my mistress, +But soon found I that her door was fasten'd. +Yet I had the key safe in my pocket, +And the darling door I open'd softly! +In the parlour found I not the maiden, +Found the maiden not within her closet, +Then her chamber-door I gently open'd, +When I found her wrapp'd in pleasing slumbers, +Fully dress'd, and lying on the sofa. + +While at work had slumber stolen o'er her; +For her knitting and her needle found I +Resting in her folded bands so tender; +And I placed myself beside her softly, +And held counsel, whether I should wake her. + +Then I looked upon the beauteous quiet +That on her sweet eyelids was reposing +On her lips was silent truth depicted, +On her cheeks had loveliness its dwelling, +And the pureness of a heart unsullied +In her bosom evermore was heaving. +All her limbs were gracefully reclining, +Set at rest by sweet and godlike balsam. +Gladly sat I, and the contemplation +Held the strong desire I felt to wake her +Firmer and firmer down, with mystic fetters. + +"Oh, thou love," methought, "I see that slumber, +Slumber that betrayeth each false feature, +Cannot injure thee, can nought discover +That could serve to harm thy friend's soft feelings. + +"Now thy beauteous eyes are firmly closed, +That, when open, form mine only rapture. +And thy sweet lips are devoid of motion, +Motionless for speaking or for kissing; +Loosen'd are the soft and magic fetters +Of thine arms, so wont to twine around me, +And the hand, the ravishing companion +Of thy sweet caresses, lies unmoving. +Were my thoughts of thee but based on error, +Were the love I bear thee self-deception, +I must now have found it out, since Amor +Is, without his bandage, placed beside me." + +Long I sat thus, full of heartfelt pleasure +At my love, and at her matchless merit; +She had so delighted me while slumbering, +That I could not venture to awake her. + +Then I on the little table near her +Softly placed two oranges, two roses; +Gently, gently stole I from her chamber. +When her eyes the darling one shall open, +She will straightway spy these colourd presents, +And the friendly gift will view with wonder, +For the door will still remain unopen'd. + +If perchance I see to-night the angel, +How will she rejoice,--reward me doubly +For this sacrifice of fond affection! + + 1765. +----- +THE MAGIC NET. + +Do I see a contest yonder? +See I miracles or pastimes? +Beauteous urchins, five in number, +'Gainst five sisters fair contending,-- +Measured is the time they're beating-- +At a bright enchantress' bidding. +Glitt'ring spears by some are wielded, +Threads are others nimbly twining, + +So that in their snares, the weapons +One would think, must needs be captured, +Soon, in truth, the spears are prison'd; +Yet they, in the gentle war-dance, +One by one escape their fetters +In the row of loops so tender, +That make haste to seize a free one +Soon as they release a captive. + +So with contests, strivings, triumphs, +Flying now, and now returning, +Is an artful net soon woven, +In its whiteness like the snow-flakes, +That, from light amid the darkness, +Draw their streaky lines so varied, +As e'en colours scarce can draw them. + +Who shall now receive that garment +Far beyond all others wish'd-for? +Whom our much-loved mistress favour +As her own acknowledged servant? +I am blest by kindly Fortune's +Tokens true, in silence pray'd for! +And I feel myself held captive, +To her service now devoted. + +Yet, e'en while I, thus enraptured, +Thus adorn'd, am proudly wand'ring, +See! yon wantons are entwining, +Void of strife, with secret ardour, +Other nets, each fine and finer, +Threads of twilight interweaving, +Moonbeams sweet, night-violets' balsam. + +Ere the net is noticed by us, +Is a happier one imprison'd, +Whom we, one and all, together +Greet with envy and with blessings. + + 1803. +----- +THE GOBLET. + +ONCE I held a well-carved brimming goblet,-- +In my two hands tightly clasp'd I held it, +Eagerly the sweet wine sipp'd I from it, +Seeking there to drown all care and sorrow. + +Amor enter'd in, and found me sitting, +And he gently smiled in modest fashion, +Smiled as though the foolish one he pitied. + +"Friend, I know a far more beauteous vessel, +One wherein to sink thy spirit wholly; +Say, what wilt thou give me, if I grant it, +And with other nectar fill it for thee?" + +Oh, how kindly hath he kept his promise! +For to me, who long had yearn'd, he granted +Thee, my Lida, fill'd with soft affection. + +When I clasp mine arms around thee fondly, +When I drink in love's long-hoarded balsam +From thy darling lips so true, so faithful, +Fill'd with bliss thus speak I to my spirit +"No! a vessel such as this, save Amor +Never god hath fashion'd or been lord of! +Such a form was ne'er produced by Vulcan +With his cunning, reason-gifted hammers! +On the leaf-crown'd mountains may Lyaeus +Bid his Fauns, the oldest and the wisest, +Pass the choicest clusters through the winepress, +And himself watch o'er the fermentation: +Such a draught no toil can e'er procure him!" + + 1781. +----- +TO THE GRASSHOPPER. + +AFTER ANACREON. + +[The strong resemblance of this fine poem to Cowley's Ode bearing +the same name, and beginning "Happy insect! what can be," will be +at once seen.] + +HAPPY art thou, darling insect, +Who, upon the trees' tall branches, +By a modest draught inspired, +Singing, like a monarch livest! +Thou possessest as thy portion +All that on the plains thou seest, +All that by the hours is brought thee +'Mongst the husbandmen thou livest, +As a friend, uninjured by them, +Thou whom mortals love to honour, +Herald sweet of sweet Spring's advent! +Yes, thou'rt loved by all the Muses, + +Phoebus' self, too, needs must love thee; +They their silver voices gave thee, +Age can never steal upon thee. +Wise and gentle friend of poets, +Born a creature fleshless, bloodless, +Though Earth's daughter, free from suff'ring, +To the gods e'en almost equal. + + 1781. +----- +FROM 'THE SORROWS OF YOUNG WERTHER.' + +[Prefixed to the second edition.] + +EV'RY youth for love's sweet portion sighs, + +Ev'ry maiden sighs to win man's love; +Why, alas! should bitter pain arise + +From the noblest passion that we prove? + +Thou, kind soul, bewailest, lov'st him well, + +From disgrace his memory's saved by thee; +Lo, his spirit signs from out its cell: + +BE A MAN, NOR SEEK TO FOLLOW ME. + + 1775. +----- +TRILOGY OF PASSION. + +I. TO WERTHER. + +[This poem, written at the age of seventy-five, was appended to +an edition of 'Werther,' published at that time.] + +ONCE more, then, much-wept shadow, thou dost dare + + Boldly to face the day's clear light, +To meet me on fresh blooming meadows fair, + + And dost not tremble at my sight. +Those happy times appear return'd once more. + + When on one field we quaff'd refreshing dew, +And, when the day's unwelcome toils were o'er, + + The farewell sunbeams bless'd our ravish'd view; +Fate bade thee go,--to linger here was mine,-- +Going the first, the smaller loss was thine. + +The life of man appears a glorious fate: +The day how lovely, and the night how great! +And we 'mid Paradise-like raptures plac'd, +The sun's bright glory scarce have learn'd to taste. + +When strange contending feelings dimly cover, +Now us, and now the forms that round us hover; +One's feelings by no other are supplied, +'Tis dark without, if all is bright inside; +An outward brightness veils my sadden'd mood, +When Fortune smiles,--how seldom understood! +Now think we that we know her, and with might +A woman's beauteous form instils delight; +The youth, as glad as in his infancy, +The spring-time treads, as though the spring were he +Ravish'd, amazed, he asks, how this is done? +He looks around, the world appears his own. +With careless speed he wanders on through space, +Nor walls, nor palaces can check his race; +As some gay flight of birds round tree-tops plays, +So 'tis with him who round his mistress strays; +He seeks from AEther, which he'd leave behind him, +The faithful look that fondly serves to bind him. + +Yet first too early warn'd, and then too late, +He feels his flight restrain'd, is captur'd straight +To meet again is sweet, to part is sad, +Again to meet again is still more glad, +And years in one short moment are enshrin'd; +But, oh, the harsh farewell is hid behind! + +Thou smilest, friend, with fitting thoughts inspired; +By a dread parting was thy fame acquired, +Thy mournful destiny we sorrow'd o'er, +For weal and woe thou left'st us evermore, +And then again the passions' wavering force +Drew us along in labyrinthine course; +And we, consumed by constant misery, +At length must part--and parting is to die! +How moving is it, when the minstrel sings, +To 'scape the death that separation brings! +Oh grant, some god, to one who suffers so, +To tell, half-guilty, his sad tale of woe + + 1824 + +II. ELEGY. + + + When man had ceased to utter his lament, + + A god then let me tell my tale of sorrow. + +WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now +In the still-closed blossoms of this day? +Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou; +What wav'ring thoughts within the bosom play +No longer doubt! Descending from the sky, +She lifts thee in her arms to realms on high. + +And thus thou into Paradise wert brought, + +As worthy of a pure and endless life; +Nothing was left, no wish, no hope, no thought, + +Here was the boundary of thine inmost strife: +And seeing one so fair, so glorified, +The fount of yearning tears was straightway dried. + +No motion stirr'd the day's revolving wheel, + +In their own front the minutes seem'd to go; +The evening kiss, a true and binding seal, + +Ne'er changing till the morrow's sunlight glow. +The hours resembled sisters as they went. +Yet each one from another different. + +The last hour's kiss, so sadly sweet, effac'd + +A beauteous network of entwining love. +Now on the threshold pause the feet, now haste. + +As though a flaming cherub bade them move; +The unwilling eye the dark road wanders o'er, +Backward it looks, but closed it sees the door. + +And now within itself is closed this breast, + +As though it ne'er were open, and as though, +Vying with ev'ry star, no moments blest + +Had, in its presence, felt a kindling glow; +Sadness, reproach, repentance, weight of care, +Hang heavy on it in the sultry air. + +Is not the world still left? The rocky steeps, + +Are they with holy shades no longer crown'd? +Grows not the harvest ripe? No longer creeps + +The espalier by the stream,--the copse around? +Doth not the wondrous arch of heaven still rise, +Now rich in shape, now shapeless to the eyes? + +As, seraph-like, from out the dark clouds' chorus, + +With softness woven, graceful, light, and fair, +Resembling Her, in the blue aether o'er us, + +A slender figure hovers in the air,-- +Thus didst thou see her joyously advance, +The fairest of the fairest in the dance. + +Yet but a moment dost thou boldly dare + +To clasp an airy form instead of hers; +Back to thine heart! thou'lt find it better there, + +For there in changeful guise her image stirs +What erst was one, to many turneth fast, +In thousand forms, each dearer than the last. + +As at the door, on meeting lingerd she, + +And step by step my faithful ardour bless'd, +For the last kiss herself entreated me, + +And on my lips the last last kiss impress'd,-- +Thus clearly traced, the lov'd one's form we view, +With flames engraven on a heart so true,-- + +A heart that, firm as some embattled tower, + +Itself for her, her in itself reveres, +For her rejoices in its lasting power, + +Conscious alone, when she herself appears; +Feels itself freer in so sweet a thrall, +And only beats to give her thanks in all. + +The power of loving, and all yearning sighs + +For love responsive were effaced and drown'd; +While longing hope for joyous enterprise + +Was form'd, and rapid action straightway found; +If love can e'er a loving one inspire, +Most lovingly it gave me now its fire; + +And 'twas through her!--an inward sorrow lay + +On soul and body, heavily oppress'd; +To mournful phantoms was my sight a prey, + +In the drear void of a sad tortured breast; +Now on the well-known threshold Hope hath smil'd, +Herself appeareth in the sunlight mild. + +Unto the peace of God, which, as we read, + +Blesseth us more than reason e'er bath done, +Love's happy peace would I compare indeed, + +When in the presence of the dearest one. +There rests the heart, and there that sweetest thought, +The thought of being hers, is check'd by nought. + +In the pure bosom doth a yearning float, + +Unto a holier, purer, unknown Being +Its grateful aspiration to devote, + +The Ever-Nameless then unriddled seeing; +We call it: piety!--such blest delight +I feel a share in, when before her sight. + +Before her sight, as 'neath the sun's hot ray, + +Before her breath, as 'neath the spring's soft wind, +In its deep wintry cavern melts away + +Self-love, so long in icy chains confin'd; +No selfishness and no self-will are nigh, +For at her advent they were forced to fly. + +It seems as though she said: "As hours pass by + +They spread before us life with kindly plan; +Small knowledge did the yesterday supply, + +To know the morrow is conceal'd from man; +And if the thought of evening made me start, +The sun at setting gladden'd straight my heart. + +"Act, then, as I, and look, with joyous mind, + +The moment in the face; nor linger thou! +Meet it with speed, so fraught with life, so kind + +In action, and in love so radiant now; +Let all things be where thou art, childlike ever, +Thus thoult be all, thus, thou'lt be vanquish'd never." + +Thou speakest well, methought, for as thy guide + +The moment's favour did a god assign, +And each one feels himself when by thy side, + +Fate's fav'rite in a moment so divine; +I tremble at thy look that bids me go, +Why should I care such wisdom vast to know? + +Now am I far! And what would best befit + +The present minute? I could scarcely tell; +Full many a rich possession offers it, + +These but offend, and I would fain repel. +Yearnings unquenchable still drive me on, +All counsel, save unbounded tears, is gone. + +Flow on, flow on in never-ceasing course, + +Yet may ye never quench my inward fire! +Within my bosom heaves a mighty force, + +Where death and life contend in combat dire. +Medicines may serve the body's pangs to still; +Nought but the spirit fails in strength of will,-- + +Fails in conception; wherefore fails it so? + +A thousand times her image it portrays; +Enchanting now, and now compell'd to go, + +Now indistinct, now clothed in purest rays! +How could the smallest comfort here be flowing? +The ebb and flood, the coming and the going! + + + * * * * * * + +Leave me here now, my life's companions true! + +Leave me alone on rock, in moor and heath; +But courage! open lies the world to you, + +The glorious heavens above, the earth beneath; +Observe, investigate, with searching eyes, +And nature will disclose her mysteries. + +To me is all, I to myself am lost, + +Who the immortals' fav'rite erst was thought; +They, tempting, sent Pandoras to my cost, + +So rich in wealth, with danger far more fraught; +They urged me to those lips, with rapture crown'd, +Deserted me, and hurl'd me to the ground. + + 1823. + +III. ATONEMENT. + +[Composed, when 74 years old, for a Polish lady, who excelled in +playing on the pianoforte.] + +PASSION brings reason--who can pacify + +An anguish'd heart whose loss hath been so great? +Where are the hours that fled so swiftly by? + +In vain the fairest thou didst gain from fate; +Sad is the soul, confused the enterprise; + +The glorious world, how on the sense it dies! + +In million tones entwined for evermore, + +Music with angel-pinions hovers there, +To pierce man's being to its inmost core, + +Eternal beauty has its fruit to bear; +The eye grows moist, in yearnings blest reveres +The godlike worth of music as of tears. + +And so the lighten'd heart soon learns to see + +That it still lives, and beats, and ought to beat, +Off'ring itself with joy and willingly, + +In grateful payment for a gift so sweet. +And then was felt,--oh may it constant prove!-- +The twofold bliss of music and of love. + + 1823. +----- + +THE remembrance of the Good +Keep us ever glad in mood. + +The remembrance of the Fair +Makes a mortal rapture share. + +The remembrance of one's Love +Blest Is, if it constant prove. + +The remembrance of the One +Is the greatest joy that's known. + + 1828. +----- +[Written at the age of 77.] + +WHEN I was still a youthful wight, + +So full of enjoyment and merry, +The painters used to assert, in spite, + +That my features were small--yes, very; +Yet then full many a beauteous child +With true affection upon me smil'd. + +Now as a greybeard I sit here in state, + +By street and by lane held in awe, sirs; +And may be seen, like old Frederick the Great, + +On pipebowls, on cups, and on saucers. +Yet the beauteous maidens, they keep afar; +Oh vision of youth! Oh golden star! + + 1826. +----- +FOR EVER. + +THE happiness that man, whilst prison'd here, + +Is wont with heavenly rapture to compare,-- +The harmony of Truth, from wavering clear,-- + +Of Friendship that is free from doubting care,-- +The light which in stray thoughts alone can cheer + +The wise,--the bard alone in visions fair,-- +In my best hours I found in her all this, +And made mine own, to mine exceeding bliss. + + 1820.* +----- +FROM AN ALBUM OF 1604. + +HOPE provides wings to thought, and love to hope. +Rise up to Cynthia, love, when night is clearest, +And say, that as on high her figure changeth, +So, upon earth, my joy decays and grows. +And whisper in her ear with modest softness, +How doubt oft hung its head, and truth oft wept. +And oh ye thoughts, distrustfully inclined, +If ye are therefore by the loved one chided, +Answer: 'tis true ye change, but alter not, +As she remains the same, yet changeth ever. +Doubt may invade the heart, but poisons not, +For love is sweeter, by suspicion flavour'd. +If it with anger overcasts the eye, +And heaven's bright purity perversely blackens, +Then zephyr-sighs straight scare the clouds away, +And, changed to tears, dissolve them into rain. +Thought, hope, and love remain there as before, +Till Cynthia gleams upon me as of old. + + 1820.* +----- +LINES ON SEEING SCHILLER'S SKULL. + +[This curious imitation of the ternary metre of Dante was written +at the age of 77.] + +WITHIN a gloomy charnel-house one day + +I view'd the countless skulls, so strangely mated, +And of old times I thought, that now were grey. + +Close pack'd they stand, that once so fiercely hated, +And hardy bones, that to the death contended, + +Are lying cross'd,--to lie for ever, fated. +What held those crooked shoulder-blades suspended? + +No one now asks; and limbs with vigour fired, +The hand, the foot--their use in life is ended. + +Vainly ye sought the tomb for rest when tired; +Peace in the grave may not be yours; ye're driven + +Back into daylight by a force inspired; +But none can love the wither'd husk, though even + +A glorious noble kernel it contained. +To me, an adept, was the writing given + +Which not to all its holy sense explained, +When 'mid the crowd, their icy shadows flinging, + +I saw a form, that glorious still remained. +And even there, where mould and damp were clinging, + +Gave me a blest, a rapture-fraught emotion, +As though from death a living fount were springing. + +What mystic joy I felt! What rapt devotion! +That form, how pregnant with a godlike trace! + +A look, how did it whirl me tow'rd that ocean +Whose rolling billows mightier shapes embrace! + +Mysterious vessel! Oracle how dear! +Even to grasp thee is my hand too base, + +Except to steal thee from thy prison here +With pious purpose, and devoutly go + +Back to the air, free thoughts, and sunlight clear. +What greater gain in life can man e'er know + +Than when God-Nature will to him explain +How into Spirit steadfastness may flow, + +How steadfast, too, the Spirit-Born remain. + + 1826. +----- +ROYAL PRAYER. + +HA, I am the lord of earth! The noble, + +Who're in my service, love me. +Ha, I am the lord of earth! The noble, + +O'er whom my sway extendeth, love I. +Oh, grant me, God in Heaven, that I may ne'er + +Dispense with loftiness and love! + + 1815.* +----- +HUMAN FEELINGS. + +AH, ye gods! ye great immortals +In the spacious heavens above us! +Would ye on this earth but give us +Steadfast minds and dauntless courage +We, oh kindly ones, would leave you +All your spacious heavens above us! + + 1815.* +----- +ON THE DIVAN. + +HE who knows himself and others + +Here will also see, +That the East and West, like brothers, + +Parted ne'er shall be. + +Thoughtfully to float for ever + +'Tween two worlds, be man's endeavour! +So between the East and West + +To revolve, be my behest! + + 1833.* +----- +EXPLANATION OF AN ANCIENT WOODCUT, REPRESENTING +HANS SACHS' POETICAL MISSION. + +[I feel considerable hesitation in venturing to offer this +version of a poem which Carlyle describes to be 'a beautiful +piece (a very Hans Sacks beatified, both in character and style), +which we wish there was any possibility of translating.' The +reader will be aware that Hans Sachs was the celebrated Minstrel- +Cobbler of Nuremberg, who Wrote 208 plays, 1700 comic tales, and +between 4000 and 5000 lyric poems. He flourished throughout +almost the whole of the 16th century.] + +EARLY within his workshop here, +On Sundays stands our master dear; +His dirty apron he puts away, +And wears a cleanly doublet to-day; +Lets wax'd thread, hammer, and pincers rest, +And lays his awl within his chest; +The seventh day he takes repose +From many pulls and many blows. + +Soon as the spring-sun meets his view, +Repose begets him labour anew; +He feels that he holds within his brain +A little world, that broods there amain, +And that begins to act and to live, +Which he to others would gladly give. + +He had a skilful eye and true, +And was full kind and loving too. +For contemplation, clear and pure,-- +For making all his own again, sure; +He had a tongue that charm'd when 'twas heard, +And graceful and light flow'd ev'ry word; +Which made the Muses in him rejoice, +The Master-singer of their choice. + +And now a maiden enter'd there, +With swelling breast, and body fair; +With footing firm she took her place, +And moved with stately, noble grace; +She did not walk in wanton mood, +Nor look around with glances lewd. + +She held a measure in her hand, +Her girdle was a golden band, +A wreath of corn was on her head, +Her eye the day's bright lustre shed; +Her name is honest Industry, +Else, Justice, Magnanimity. + +She enter'd with a kindly greeting; +He felt no wonder at the meeting, +For, kind and fair as she might be, +He long had known her, fancied he. + + +"I have selected thee," she said, +"From all who earth's wild mazes tread, +That thou shouldst have clear-sighted sense, +And nought that's wrong shouldst e'er commence. +When others run in strange confusion, +Thy gaze shall see through each illusion +When others dolefully complain, +Thy cause with jesting thou shalt gain, +Honour and right shalt value duly, +In everything act simply, truly,-- +Virtue and godliness proclaim, +And call all evil by its name, +Nought soften down, attempt no quibble, +Nought polish up, nought vainly scribble. +The world shall stand before thee, then, +As seen by Albert Durer's ken, +In manliness and changeless life, +In inward strength, with firmness rife. +Fair Nature's Genius by the hand +Shall lead thee on through every land, +Teach thee each different life to scan, +Show thee the wondrous ways of man, +His shifts, confusions, thrustings, and drubbings, +Pushings, tearings, pressings, and rubbings; +The varying madness of the crew, +The anthill's ravings bring to view; +But thou shalt see all this express'd, +As though 'twere in a magic chest. +Write these things down for folks on earth, +In hopes they may to wit give birth."-- +Then she a window open'd wide, +And show'd a motley crowd outside, +All kinds of beings 'neath the sky, +As in his writings one may spy. + +Our master dear was, after this, +On Nature thinking, full of bliss, +When tow'rd him, from the other side +He saw an aged woman glide; +The name she bears, Historia, +Mythologia, Fabula; +With footstep tottering and unstable +She dragg'd a large and wooden carved-table, +Where, with wide sleeves and human mien, +The Lord was catechizing seen; +Adam, Eve, Eden, the Serpent's seduction, +Gomorrah and Sodom's awful destruction, +The twelve illustrious women, too, +That mirror of honour brought to view; +All kinds of bloodthirstiness, murder, and sin, +The twelve wicked tyrants also were in, +And all kinds of goodly doctrine and law; +Saint Peter with his scourge you saw, +With the world's ways dissatisfied, +And by our Lord with power supplied. +Her train and dress, behind and before, +And e'en the seams, were painted o'er +With tales of worldly virtue and crime.-- +Our master view'd all this for a time; +The sight right gladly he survey'd, +So useful for him in his trade, +Whence he was able to procure +Example good and precept sure, +Recounting all with truthful care, +As though he had been present there. +His spirit seem'd from earth to fly, +He ne'er had turned away his eye, +Did he not just behind him hear +A rattle of bells approaching near. +And now a fool doth catch his eye, +With goat and ape's leap drawing nigh +A merry interlude preparing +With fooleries and jests unsparing. +Behind him, in a line drawn out, +He dragg'd all fools, the lean and stout, +The great and little, the empty and full, +All too witty, and all too dull, +A lash he flourish'd overhead, +As though a dance of apes he led, +Abusing them with bitterness, +As though his wrath would ne'er grow less. + +While on this sight our master gazed, +His head was growing well-nigh crazed: +What words for all could he e'er find, +Could such a medley be combined? +Could he continue with delight +For evermore to sing and write? +When lo, from out a cloud's dark bed +In at the upper window sped +The Muse, in all her majesty, +As fair as our loved maids we see. +With clearness she around him threw +Her truth, that ever stronger grew. + +"I, to ordain thee come," she spake: +"So prosper, and my blessing take! +The holy fire that slumb'ring lies +Within thee, in bright flames shall rise; +Yet that thine ever-restless life +May still with kindly strength be rife, +I, for thine inward spirit's calm. +Have granted nourishment and balm, +That rapture may thy soul imbue, +Like some fair blossom bathed in dew."-- +Behind his house then secretly +Outside the doorway pointed she, +Where, in a shady garden-nook, +A beauteous maid with downcast look +Was sitting where a stream was flowing, +With elder bushes near it growing, +She sat beneath an apple tree, +And nought around her seem'd to see. +Her lap was full of roses fair, +Which in a wreath she twined with care. +And, with them, leaves and blossoms blended: +For whom was that sweet wreath intended? +Thus sat she, modest and retired, +Her bosom throbb'd, with hope inspired; +Such deep forebodings fill'd her mind, +No room for wishing could she find, +And with the thoughts that o'er it flew, +Perchance a sigh was mingled too. + +"But why should sorrow cloud thy brow? +That, dearest love, which fills thee now +Is fraught with joy and ecstasy. +Prepared in one alone for thee, +That he within thine eye may find +Solace when fortune proves unkind, +And be newborn through many a kiss, +That he receives with inward bliss; +When'er he clasps thee to his breast. +May he from all his toils find rest +When he in thy dear arms shall sink, +May he new life and vigour drink: +Fresh joys of youth shalt thou obtain, +In merry jest rejoice again. +With raillery and roguish spite, +Thou now shalt tease him, now delight. +Thus Love will nevermore grow old, +Thus will the minstrel ne'er be cold!" + +While he thus lives, in secret bless'd, +Above him in the clouds doth rest +An oak-wreath, verdant and sublime, +Placed on his brow in after-time; +While they are banish'd to the slough, +Who their great master disavow. + + 1776. +----- + +SONNETS. + +----- +Lovingly I'll sing of love; +Ever comes she from above. +----- +THE FRIENDLY MEETING. + +IN spreading mantle to my chin conceald, + +I trod the rocky path, so steep and grey, + +Then to the wintry plain I bent my way +Uneasily, to flight my bosom steel'd. + +But sudden was the newborn day reveal'd: + +A maiden came, in heavenly bright array, + +Like the fair creatures of the poet's lay +In realms of song. My yearning heart was heal'd. + +Yet turn'd I thence, till she had onward pass'd, + +While closer still the folds to draw I tried, + + As though with heat self-kindled to grow warm; + +But follow'd her. She stood. The die was cast! + +No more within my mantle could I hide; + + I threw it off,--she lay within mine arm. + + 1807-8. +----- +IN A WORD. + +THUS to be chain'd for ever, can I bear? + +A very torment that, in truth, would be. + +This very day my new resolve shall see.-- +I'll not go near the lately-worshipp'd Fair. + +Yet what excuse, my heart, can I prepare + +In such a case, for not consulting thee? + +But courage! while our sorrows utter we +In tones where love, grief, gladness have a share. + +But see! the minstrel's bidding to obey, + +Its melody pours forth the sounding lyre, + + Yearning a sacrifice of love to bring. + +Scarce wouldst thou think it--ready is the lay; + +Well, but what then? Methought in the first fire + + We to her presence flew, that lay to sing. + + 1807Ä8. +----- +THE MAIDEN SPEAKS. + +How grave thou loookest, loved one! wherefore so? + +Thy marble image seems a type of thee; + +Like it, no sign of life thou giv'st to me; +Compared with thee, the stone appears to glow. + +Behind his shield in ambush lurks the foe, + +The friend's brow all-unruffled we should see. + +I seek thee, but thou seek'st away to flee; +Fix'd as this sculptured figure, learn to grow! + +Tell me, to which should I the preference pay? + +Must I from both with coldness meet alone? + + The one is lifeless, thou with life art blest. + +In short, no longer to throw words away, + +I'll fondy kiss and kiss and kiss this stone, + + Till thou dost tear me hence with envious breast. + + 1807. +----- +GROWTH. + +O'ER field and plain, in childhood's artless days, + +Thou sprang'st with me, on many a spring-morn fair. + +"For such a daughter, with what pleasing care, +Would I, as father, happy dwellings raise!" + +And when thou on the world didst cast thy gaze, + +Thy joy was then in household toils to share. + +"Why did I trust her, why she trust me e'er? +For such a sister, how I Heaven should praise!" + +Nothing can now the beauteous growth retard; + +Love's glowing flame within my breast is fann'd. + + Shall I embrace her form, my grief to end? + +Thee as a queen must I, alas, regard: + +So high above me placed thou seem'st to stand; + + Before a passing look I meekly bend. + + 1807Ä8. +----- +FOOD IN TRAVEL. + +IF to her eyes' bright lustre I were blind, + +No longer would they serve my life to gild. + +The will of destiny must be fulfilid,-- +This knowing, I withdrew with sadden'd mind. + +No further happiness I now could find: + +The former longings of my heart were still'd; + +I sought her looks alone, whereon to build +My joy in life,--all else was left behind. + +Wine's genial glow, the festal banquet gay, + +Ease, sleep, and friends, all wonted pleasures glad + + I spurn'd, till little there remain'd to prove. + +Now calmly through the world I wend my way: + +That which I crave may everywhere be had, + + With me I bring the one thing needful--love. + + 1807Ä8. +----- +DEPARTURE. + +WITH many a thousand kiss not yet content, + +At length with One kiss I was forced to go; + +After that bitter parting's depth of woe, +I deem'd the shore from which my steps I bent, + +Its hills, streams, dwellings, mountains, as I went, + +A pledge of joy, till daylight ceased to glow; + +Then on my sight did blissful visions grow +In the dim-lighted, distant firmament, + +And when at length the sea confined my gaze, + +My ardent longing fill'd my heart once more; + + What I had lost, unwillingly I sought. + +Then Heaven appear'd to shed its kindly rays: + +Methought that all I had possess'd of yore + + Remain'd still mine--that I was reft of nought. + + 1807Ä8. +----- +THE LOVING ONE WRITES. + +THE look that thy sweet eyes on mine impress + +The pledge thy lips to mine convey,--the kiss,-- + +He who, like me, hath knowledge sure of this, +Can he in aught beside find happiness? + +Removed from thee, friend-sever'd, in distress, + +These thoughts I vainly struggle to dismiss: + +They still return to that one hour of bliss, +The only one; then tears my grief confess. + +But unawares the tear makes haste to dry: + +He loves, methinks, e'en to these glades so still,-- + + And shalt not thou to distant lands extend? + +Receive the murmurs of his loving sigh; + +My only joy on earth is in thy will, + + Thy kindly will tow'rd me; a token send! + + 1807Ä8. +----- +THE LOVING ONE ONCE MORE. + +WHY do I o'er my paper once more bend? + +Ask not too closely, dearest one, I pray + +For, to speak truth, I've nothing now to say; +Yet to thy hands at length 'twill come, dear friend. + +Since I can come not with it, what I send + +My undivided heart shall now convey, + +With all its joys, hopes, pleasures, pains, to-day: +All this hath no beginning, hath no end. + +Henceforward I may ne'er to thee confide + +How, far as thought, wish, fancy, will, can reach, + + My faithful heart with thine is surely blended. + +Thus stood I once enraptured by thy side, + +Gazed on thee, and said nought. What need of speech? + + My very being in itself was ended. + + 1807Ä8. +----- +SHE CANNOT END. + +WHEN unto thee I sent the page all white, + +Instead of first thereon inscribing aught, + +The space thou doubtless filledst up in sport. +And sent it me, to make my joy grow bright. + +As soon as the blue cover met my sight, + +As well becomes a woman, quick as thought + +I tore it open, leaving hidden nought, +And read the well-known words of pure delight: + +MY ONLY BEING! DEAREST HEART! SWEET CHILD! + +How kindly thou my yearning then didst still + + With gentle words, enthralling me to thee. + +In truth methought I read thy whispers mild + +Wherewith thou lovingly my soul didst fill, + + E'en to myself for aye ennobling me. + + 1807Ä8. +----- +NEMESIS. + +WHEN through the nations stalks contagion wild, + +We from them cautiously should steal away. + +E'en I have oft with ling'ring and delay +Shunn'd many an influence, not to be defil'd. + +And e'en though Amor oft my hours beguil'd, + +At length with him preferr'd I not to play, + +And so, too, with the wretched sons of clay, +When four and three-lined verses they compil'd. + +But punishment pursues the scoffer straight, + +As if by serpent-torch of furies led + + From bill to vale, from land to sea to fly. + +I hear the genie's laughter at my fate; + +Yet do I find all power of thinking fled + + In sonnet-rage and love's fierce ecstasy. + + 1807-8. +----- +THE CHRISTMAS-BOX. + +THIS box, mine own sweet darling, thou wilt find + +With many a varied sweetmeat's form supplied; + +The fruits are they of holy Christmas tide, +But baked indeed, for children's use design'd. + +I'd fain, in speeches sweet with skill combin'd, + +Poetic sweetmeats for the feast provide; + +But why in such frivolities confide? +Perish the thought, with flattery to blind! + +One sweet thing there is still, that from within, + +Within us speaks,--that may be felt afar; + + This may be wafted o'er to thee alone. + +If thou a recollection fond canst win, + +As if with pleasure gleam'd each well-known star, + + The smallest gift thou never wilt disown. + + 1807. +----- +THE WARNING. + +WHEN sounds the trumpet at the Judgment Day, + +And when forever all things earthly die, + +We must a full and true account supply +Of ev'ry useless word we dropp'd in play. + +But what effect will all the words convey + +Wherein with eager zeal and lovingly, + +That I might win thy favour, labour'd I, +If on thine ear alone they die away? + +Therefore, sweet love, thy conscience bear in mind, + +Remember well how long thou hast delay'd, + + So that the world such sufferings may not know. + +If I must reckon, and excuses find + +For all things useless I to thee have said, + + To a full year the Judgment Day will grow + + 1807Ä8. +----- +THE EPOCHS. + +ON Petrarch's heart, all other days before, + +In flaming letters written, was impress d + +GOOD FRIDAY. And on mine, be it confess'd, +Is this year's ADVENT, as it passeth o'er. + +I do not now begin,--I still adore + +Her whom I early cherish'd in my breast;, + +Then once again with prudence dispossess'd, +And to whose heart I'm driven back once more. + +The love of Petrarch, that all-glorious love, + +Was unrequited, and, alas, full sad; + + One long Good Friday 'twas, one heartache drear + +But may my mistress' Advent ever prove, + +With its palm-jubilee, so sweet and glad, + + One endless Mayday, through the livelong year! + + 1807. +----- +THE DOUBTERS AND THE LOVERS. + +THE DOUBTERS. + +YE love, and sonnets write! Fate's strange behest! + +The heart, its hidden meaning to declare, + +Must seek for rhymes, uniting pair with pair: +Learn, children, that the will is weak, at best. + +Scarcely with freedom the o'erflowing breast + +As yet can speak, and well may it beware; + +Tempestuous passions sweep each chord that's there, +Then once more sink to night and gentle rest. + +Why vex yourselves and us, the heavy stone + +Up the steep path but step by step to roll? + + It falls again, and ye ne'er cease to strive. + +THE LOVERS. + +But we are on the proper road alone! + +If gladly is to thaw the frozen soul, + + The fire of love must aye be kept alive. + + 1807Ä8. +----- +CHARADE. + +Two words there 'are, both short, of beauty rare, + +Whose sounds our lips so often love to frame, + +But which with clearness never can proclaim +The things whose own peculiar stamp they bear. + +'Tis well in days of age and youth so fair, + +One on the other boldly to inflame; + +And if those words together link'd we name, +A blissful rapture we discover there. + +But now to give them pleasure do I seek, + +And in myself my happiness would find; + + I hope in silence, but I hope for this: + +Gently, as loved one's names, those words to speak + +To see them both within one image shrin'd, + + Both in one being to embrace with bliss. + + 1807. +----- + +EPIGRAMS. + +----- +In these numbers be express'd +Meaning deep, 'neath merry jest. +----- + +TO ORIGINALS. + +A FELLOW says: "I own no school or college; +No master lives whom I acknowledge; +And pray don't entertain the thought +That from the dead I e'er learnt aught." +This, if I rightly understand, +Means: "I'm a blockhead at first hand." + + 1815. +----- +THE SOLDIER'S CONSOLATION. + +No! in truth there's here no lack: +White the bread, the maidens black! +To another town, next night: +Black the bread, the maidens white! + + 1815.* +----- +GENIAL IMPULSE. + +THUS roll I, never taking ease, +My tub, like Saint Diogenes, +Now serious am, now seek to please; +Now love and hate in turn one sees; +The motives now are those, now these; +Now nothings, now realities. +Thus roll I, never taking ease, +My tub, like Saint Diogenes. + + 1810. +----- +NEITHER THIS NOR THAT. + +IF thou to be a slave shouldst will, +Thou'lt get no pity, but fare ill; +And if a master thou wouldst be, +The world will view it angrily; +And if in statu quo thou stay, +That thou art but a fool, they'll say. + + 1815.* +----- +THE WAY TO BEHAVE. + +THOUGH tempers are bad and peevish folks swear, +Remember to ruffle thy brows, friend, ne'er; +And let not the fancies of women so fair +E'er serve thy pleasure in life to impair. + + 1815.* +----- +THE BEST. + +WHEN head and heart are busy, say, + +What better can be found? +Who neither loves nor goes astray, + +Were better under ground. + + 1815.* +----- +AS BROAD AS IT'S LONG. + +MODEST men must needs endure, + +And the bold must humbly bow; +Thus thy fate's the same, be sure, + +Whether bold or modest thou. + + 1815.* +----- +THE RULE OF LIFE. + +IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care, +Let not the past torment thee e'er; +As little as possible be thou annoy'd, +And let the present be ever enjoy'd; +Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied, +And to God the future confide. + + 1815.* +----- +THE SAME, EXPANDED. + +IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care, +Let not the past torment thee e'er; +If any loss thou hast to rue, +Act as though thou wert born anew; +Inquire the meaning of each day, +What each day means itself will say; +In thine own actions take thy pleasure, +What others do, thou'lt duly treasure; +Ne'er let thy breast with hate be supplied, +And to God the future confide. + +----- + +IF wealth is gone--then something is gone! + +Quick, make up thy mind, + +And fresh wealth find. +If honour is gone--then much is gone! + +Seek glory to find, + +And people then will alter their mind. +If courage is gone--then all is gone! +'Twere better that thou hadst never been born. + +----- + +HE who with life makes sport, + +Can prosper never; +Who rules himself in nought, + +Is a slave ever. + +MAY each honest effort be + +Crown'd with lasting constancy. + +----- + +EACH road to the proper end +Runs straight on, without a bend. + + 1825. +----- +CALM AT SEA. + +SILENCE deep rules o'er the waters, + +Calmly slumb'ring lies the main, +While the sailor views with trouble + +Nought but one vast level plain. + +Not a zephyr is in motion! + +Silence fearful as the grave! +In the mighty waste of ocean + +Sunk to rest is ev'ry wave. + + 1795. +----- +THE PROSPEROUS VOYAGE. + +THE mist is fast clearing. +And radiant is heaven, +Whilst AEolus loosens +Our anguish-fraught bond. +The zephyrs are sighing, +Alert is the sailor. +Quick! nimbly be plying! +The billows are riven, +The distance approaches; +I see land beyond! + + 1795. +----- +COURAGE. + +CARELESSLY over the plain away, +Where by the boldest man no path +Cut before thee thou canst discern, +Make for thyself a path! + +Silence, loved one, my heart! +Cracking, let it not break! +Breaking, break not with thee! + + 1776.* +----- +MY ONLY PROPERTY. + +I FEEL that I'm possess'd of nought, +Saving the free unfetterd thought + +Which from my bosom seeks to flow, +And each propitious passing hour +That suffers me in all its power + +A loving fate with truth to know. + + 1814. +----- +ADMONITION. + +WHEREFORE ever ramble on? + +For the Good is lying near, +Fortune learn to seize alone, + +For that Fortune's ever here. + + 1789. +----- +OLD AGE. + +OLD age is courteous--no one more: +For time after time he knocks at the door, +But nobody says, "Walk in, sir, pray!" +Yet turns he not from the door away, +But lifts the latch, and enters with speed. +And then they cry "A cool one, indeed!" + + 1814. +----- +EPITAPH. + +As a boy, reserved and naughty; +As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty; +As a man, for action inclined; +As a greybeard, fickle in mind.-- +Upon thy grave will people read: +This was a very man, indeed! + + 1815.* +----- +RULES FOR MONARCHS. + +IF men are never their thoughts to employ, +Take care to provide them a life full of joy; +But if to some profit and use thou wouldst bend them, +Take care to shear them, and then defend them. + + 1815.* +----- +PAULO POST FUTURI. + +WEEP ye not, ye children dear, + +That as yet ye are unborn: +For each sorrow and each tear + +Makes the father's heart to mourn. + +Patient be a short time to it, + +Unproduced, and known to none; +If your father cannot do it, + +By your mother 'twill be done. + + 1784. +----- +THE FOOL'S EPILOGUE. + +MANY good works I've done and ended, +Ye take the praise--I'm not offended; +For in the world, I've always thought +Each thing its true position hath sought. +When praised for foolish deeds am I, +I set off laughing heartily; +When blamed for doing something good, +I take it in an easy mood. +If some one stronger gives me hard blows, +That it's a jest, I feign to suppose: +But if 'tis one that's but my own like, +I know the way such folks to strike. +When Fortune smiles, I merry grow, +And sing in dulci jubilo; +When sinks her wheel, and tumbles me o'er, +I think 'tis sure to rise once more. + +In the sunshine of summer I ne'er lament, +Because the winter it cannot prevent; +And when the white snow-flakes fall around, +I don my skates, and am off with a bound. +Though I dissemble as I will, +The sun for me will ne'er stand still; +The old and wonted course is run, +Until the whole of life is done; +Each day the servant like the lord, +In turns comes home, and goes abroad; +If proud or humble the line they take, +They all must eat, drink, sleep, and wake. +So nothing ever vexes me; +Act like the fool, and wise ye'll be! + + 1804. +----- + +PARABLES. + +----- +Joy from that in type we borrow, +Which in life gives only sorrow. +----- +JOY. + +A DRAGON-FLY with beauteous wing +Is hov'ring o'er a silv'ry spring; +I watch its motions with delight,-- +Now dark its colours seem, now bright; +Chameleon-like appear, now blue, +Now red, and now of greenish hue. +Would it would come still nearer me, +That I its tints might better see + +It hovers, flutters, resting ne'er! + +But hush! it settles on the mead. +I have it safe now, I declare! + + And when its form I closely view, + + 'Tis of a sad and dingy blue-- +Such, Joy-Dissector, is thy case indeed + + 1767-9. +----- +EXPLANATION OF AN ANTIQUE GEM, + +A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high + +Within a beauteous garden; +And see, a goat is sitting by. + +As if he were its warden. + +But oh, Quirites, how one errs! + +The tree is guarded badly; +For round the other side there whirrs + +And hums a beetle madly. + +The hero with his well-mail'd coat + +Nibbles the branches tall so; +A mighty longing feels the goat + +Gently to climb up also. + +And so, my friends, ere long ye see + +The tree all leafless standing; +It looks a type of misery, + +Help of the gods demanding. + +Then listen, ye ingenuous youth, + +Who hold wise saws respected: +From he-goat and from beetles-tooth + +A tree should be protected! + + 1815. +----- +CAT-PIE. + +WHILE he is mark'd by vision clear + +Who fathoms Nature's treasures, +The man may follow, void of fear, + +Who her proportions measures. + +Though for one mortal, it is true, + +These trades may both be fitted, +Yet, that the things themselves are two + +Must always be admitted. + +Once on a time there lived a cook + +Whose skill was past disputing, +Who in his head a fancy took + +To try his luck at shooting. + +So, gun in hand, he sought a spot + +Where stores of game were breeding, +And there ere long a cat he shot + +That on young birds was feeding. + +This cat he fancied was a hare, + +Forming a judgment hasty, +So served it up for people's fare, + +Well-spiced and in a pasty. + +Yet many a guest with wrath was fill'd + +(All who had noses tender): +The cat that's by the sportsman kill'd + +No cook a hare can render. + + 1810. +----- +LEGEND. + +THERE lived in the desert a holy man + +To whom a goat-footed Faun one day +Paid a visit, and thus began + +To his surprise: "I entreat thee to pray +That grace to me and my friends may be given, +That we may be able to mount to Heaven, +For great is our thirst for heav'nly bliss." +The holy man made answer to this: +"Much danger is lurking in thy petition, +Nor will it be easy to gain admission; +Thou dost not come with an angel's salute; +For I see thou wearest a cloven foot." +The wild man paused, and then answer'd he: +"What doth my goat's foot matter to thee? +Full many I've known into heaven to pass +Straight and with ease, with the head of an ass!" + + 1815.* +----- +AUTHORS. + +OVER the meadows, and down the stream, + +And through the garden-walks straying, +He plucks the flowers that fairest seem; + +His throbbing heart brooks no delaying. +His maiden then comes--oh, what ecstasy! +Thy flowers thou giv'st for one glance of her eye! + +The gard'ner next door o'er the hedge sees the youth: +"I'm not such a fool as that, in good truth; +My pleasure is ever to cherish each flower, +And see that no birds my fruit e'er devour. +But when 'tis ripe, your money, good neighbour! +'Twas not for nothing I took all this labour!" +And such, methinks, are the author-tribe. + +The one his pleasures around him strews, + +That his friends, the public, may reap, if they choose; +The other would fain make them all subscribe, + + 1776.* +----- +THE CRITIC. + +I HAD a fellow as my guest, +Not knowing he was such a pest, +And gave him just my usual fare; +He ate his fill of what was there, + +And for desert my best things swallow'd, +Soon as his meal was o'er, what follow'd? +Led by the Deuce, to a neighbour he went, +And talk'd of my food to his heart's content: +"The soup might surely have had more spice, +The meat was ill-brown'd, and the wine wasn't nice." +A thousand curses alight on his head! +'Tis a critic, I vow! Let the dog be struck dead! + + 1776.* +----- +THE DILETTANTE AND THE CRITIC. + +A BOY a pigeon once possess'd, +In gay and brilliant plumage dress'd; +He loved it well, and in boyish sport +Its food to take from his mouth he taught, +And in his pigeon he took such pride, +That his joy to others he needs must confide. + +An aged fox near the place chanc'd to dwell, +Talkative, clever, and learned as well; +The boy his society used to prize, +Hearing with pleasure his wonders and lies. + +"My friend the fox my pigeon must see +He ran, and stretch'd 'mongst the bushes lay he +"Look, fox, at my pigeon, my pigeon so fair! +His equal I'm sure thou hast look'd upon ne'er!" + +"Let's see!"--The boy gave it.--"'Tis really not bad; +And yet, it is far from complete, I must add. +The feathers, for, instance, how short! 'Tis absurd!" +So he set to work straightway to pluck the poor bird. + +The boy screamed.--"Thou must now stronger pinions supply, +Or else 'twill be ugly, unable to fly."-- +Soon 'twas stripp'd--oh, the villain!--and torn all to pieces. +The boy was heart-broken,--and so my tale ceases. + + + * * * * + +He who sees in the boy shadow'd forth his own case, +Should be on his guard 'gainst the fox's whole race. + + 1776.* +----- +THE WRANGLER. + +ONE day a shameless and impudent wight +Went into a shop full of steel wares bright, +Arranged with art upon ev'ry shelf. +He fancied they were all meant for himself; +And so, while the patient owner stood by, +The shining goods needs must handle and try, +And valued,--for how should a fool better know?-- +The bad things high, and the good ones low, +And all with an easy self-satisfied face; +Then, having bought nothing, he left the place. + +The tradesman now felt sorely vex'd, +So when the fellow went there next, +A lock of steel made quite red hot. +The other cried upon the spot: +"Such wares as these, who'd ever buy? +the steel is tarnish'd shamefully,"-- +Then pull'd it, like a fool about, +But soon set up a piteous shout. +"Pray what's the matter?" the shopman spoke; +The other scream'd: "Faith, a very cool joke!" + + 1815.* +----- +THE YELPERS. + +OUR rides in all directions bend, + +For business or for pleasure, +Yet yelpings on our steps attend, + +And barkings without measure. +The dog that in our stable dwells, + +After our heels is striding, +And all the while his noisy yells + +But show that we are riding. + + 1815.* +----- +THE STORK'S VOCATION. + +THE stork who worms and frogs devours + +That in our ponds reside, +Why should he dwell on high church-towers, + +With which he's not allied? + +Incessantly he chatters there, + +And gives our ears no rest; +But neither old nor young can dare + +To drive him from his nest. + +I humbly ask it,--how can he + +Give of his title proof, +Save by his happy tendency + +To soil the church's roof? +----- +CELEBRITY. + +[A satire on his own Sorrows of Werther.] + +ON bridges small and bridges great +Stands Nepomucks in ev'ry state, +Of bronze, wood, painted, or of stone, +Some small as dolls, some giants grown; +Each passer must worship before Nepomuck, +Who to die on a bridge chanced to have the ill luck, +When once a man with head and ears +A saint in people's eyes appears, +Or has been sentenced piteously +Beneath the hangman's hand to die, +He's as a noted person prized, +In portrait is immortalized. +Engravings, woodcuts, are supplied, +And through the world spread far and wide. +Upon them all is seen his name, +And ev'ry one admits his claim; +Even the image of the Lord +Is not with greater zeal ador'd. +Strange fancy of the human race! +Half sinner frail, half child of grace +We see HERR WERTHER of the story +In all the pomp of woodcut glory. +His worth is first made duly known, +By having his sad features shown +At ev'ry fair the country round; +In ev'ry alehouse too they're found. +His stick is pointed by each dunce +"The ball would reach his brain at once!" +And each says, o'er his beer and bread: +"Thank Heav'n that 'tis not we are dead!" + + 1815.* +----- +PLAYING AT PRIESTS. + +WITHIN a town where parity +According to old form we see,-- +That is to say, where Catholic +And Protestant no quarrels pick, +And where, as in his father's day, +Each worships God in his own way, +We Luth'ran children used to dwell, +By songs and sermons taught as well. +The Catholic clingclang in truth +Sounded more pleasing to our youth, +For all that we encounter'd there, +To us seem'd varied, joyous, fair. +As children, monkeys, and mankind +To ape each other are inclin'd, +We soon, the time to while away, +A game at priests resolved to play. +Their aprons all our sisters lent +For copes, which gave us great content; +And handkerchiefs, embroider'd o'er, +Instead of stoles we also wore; +Gold paper, whereon beasts were traced, +The bishop's brow as mitre graced. + +Through house and garden thus in state +We strutted early, strutted late, +Repeating with all proper unction, +Incessantly each holy function. +The best was wanting to the game; + +We knew that a sonorous ring + +Was here a most important thing; +But Fortune to our rescue came, +For on the ground a halter lay; + +We were delighted, and at once + +Made it a bellrope for the nonce, +And kept it moving all the day; + +In turns each sister and each brother + +Acted as sexton to another; +All help'd to swell the joyous throng; + +The whole proceeded swimmingly, + +And since no actual bell had we, +We all in chorus sang, Ding dong! + + + * * * * * + +Our guileless child's-sport long was hush'd + +In memory's tomb, like some old lay; +And yet across my mind it rush'd + +With pristine force the other day. +The New-Poetic Catholics +In ev'ry point its aptness fix! + + 1815.* +----- +SONGS. + +SONGS are like painted window-panes! +In darkness wrapp'd the church remains, +If from the market-place we view it; +Thus sees the ignoramus through it. +No wonder that he deems it tame,-- +And all his life 'twill be the same. + +But let us now inside repair, +And greet the holy Chapel there! +At once the whole seems clear and bright, +Each ornament is bathed in light, +And fraught with meaning to the sight. +God's children! thus your fortune prize, +Be edified, and feast your eyes! + + 1827.* +----- +POETRY. + +GOD to his untaught children sent + +Law, order, knowledge, art, from high, +And ev'ry heav'nly favour lent, + +The world's hard lot to qualify. +They knew not how they should behave, + +For all from Heav'n stark-naked came; +But Poetry their garments gave, + +And then not one had cause for shame. + + 1816. +----- +A PARABLE. + +I PICKED a rustic nosegay lately, +And bore it homewards, musing greatly; +When, heated by my hand, I found +The heads all drooping tow'rd the ground. +I plac'd them in a well-cool'd glass, +And what a wonder came to pass +The heads soon raised themselves once more. +The stalks were blooming as before, +And all were in as good a case +As when they left their native place. + + + * * * * + +So felt I, when I wond'ring heard +My song to foreign tongues transferr'd. + + 1828. +----- +SHOULD E'ER THE LOVELESS DAY. + +SHOULD e'er the loveless day remain +Obscured by storms of hail and rain, + +Thy charms thou showest never; +I tap at window, tap at door: +Come, lov'd one, come! appear once more! + +Thou art as fair as ever! + + 1827.* +----- +A PLAN THE MUSES ENTERTAINED. + +A PLAN the Muses entertain'd + +Methodically to impart + +To Psyche the poetic art; +Prosaic-pure her soul remain'd. +No wondrous sounds escaped her lyre + +E'en in the fairest Summer night; +But Amor came with glance of fire,-- + +The lesson soon was learn'd aright. + + 1827.* +----- +THE DEATH OF THE FLY. + +WITH eagerness he drinks the treach'rous potion, + +Nor stops to rest, by the first taste misled; +Sweet is the draught, but soon all power of motion + +He finds has from his tender members fled; +No longer has he strength to plume his wing, +No longer strength to raise his head, poor thing! +E'en in enjoyment's hour his life he loses, +His little foot to bear his weight refuses; +So on he sips, and ere his draught is o'er, +Death veils his thousand eyes for evermore. + + 1810. +----- +BY THE RIVER. + +WHEN by the broad stream thou dost dwell, + +Oft shallow is its sluggish flood; +Then, when thy fields thou tendest well, + +It o'er them spreads its slime and mud. + +The ships descend ere daylight wanes, + +The prudent fisher upward goes; +Round reef and rock ice casts its chains, + +And boys at will the pathway close. + +To this attend, then, carefully, + +And what thou wouldst, that execute! +Ne'er linger, ne'er o'erhasty be, + +For time moves on with measured foot. + + 1821.* +----- +THE FOX AND CRANE. + +ONCE two persons uninvited + +Came to join my dinner table; +For the nonce they lived united, + +Fox and crane yclept in fable. + +Civil greetings pass'd between us + +Then I pluck'd some pigeons tender +For the fox of jackal-genius, + +Adding grapes in full-grown splendour. + +Long-neck'd flasks I put as dishes + +For the crane, without delaying, +Fill'd with gold and silver fishes, + +In the limpid water playing. + +Had ye witness'd Reynard planted + +At his flat plate, all demurely, +Ye with envy must have granted: + +"Ne'er was such a gourmand, surely!" + +While the bird with circumspection + +On one foot, as usual, cradled, +From the flasks his fish-refection + +With his bill and long neck ladled. + +One the pigeons praised,--the other, + +As they went, extoll'd the fishes, +Each one scoffing at his brother + +For preferring vulgar dishes. + + + * * * + +If thou wouldst preserve thy credit, + +When thou askest folks to guzzle +At thy hoard, take care to spread it + +Suited both for bill and muzzle. + + 1819. +----- +THE FOX AND HUNTSMAN. + +HARD 'tis on a fox's traces + +To arrive, midst forest-glades; +Hopeless utterly the chase is, + +If his flight the huntsman aids. + +And so 'tis with many a wonder, + +(Why A B make Ab in fact,) +Over which we gape and blunder, + +And our head and brains distract. + + 1821.* +----- +THE FROGS. + +A POOL was once congeal'd with frost; +The frogs, in its deep waters lost, + +No longer dared to croak or spring; +But promised, being half asleep, +If suffer'd to the air to creep, + +As very nightingales to sing. + +A thaw dissolved the ice so strong,-- +They proudly steer'd themselves along, +When landed, squatted on the shore, +And croak'd as loudly as before. + + 1821.* +----- +THE WEDDING. + +A FEAST was in a village spread,-- +It was a wedding-day, they said. +The parlour of the inn I found, +And saw the couples whirling round, +Each lass attended by her lad, +And all seem'd loving, blithe, and glad; +But on my asking for the bride, +A fellow with a stare, replied: +"'Tis not the place that point to raise! + +We're only dancing in her honour; +We now have danced three nights and days, + +And not bestowed one thought upon her." + + + * * * * + +Whoe'er in life employs his eyes +Such cases oft will recognise. + + 1821.* +----- +BURIAL. + +To the grave one day from a house they bore + +A maiden; +To the window the citizens went to explore; +In splendour they lived, and with wealth as of yore + +Their banquets were laden. +Then thought they: "The maid to the tomb is now borne; +We too from our dwellings ere long must be torn, +And he that is left our departure to mourn, + +To our riches will be the successor, + +For some one must be their possessor. + + 1827.* +----- +THREATENING SIGNS. + +IF Venus in the evening sky +Is seen in radiant majesty, +If rod-like comets, red as blood, +Are 'mongst the constellations view'd, +Out springs the Ignoramus, yelling: +"The star's exactly o'er my dwelling! +What woeful prospect, ah, for me! +Then calls his neighbour mournfully: +"Behold that awful sign of evil, +Portending woe to me, poor devil! +My mother's asthma ne'er will leave her, +My child is sick with wind and fever; +I dread the illness of my wife, +A week has pass'd, devoid of strife,-- +And other things have reach'd my ear; +The Judgment Day has come, I fear!" + +His neighbour answered: "Friend, you're right! +Matters look very had to-night. +Let's go a street or two, though, hence, +And gaze upon the stars from thence."-- +No change appears in either case. +Let each remain then in his place, +And wisely do the best he can, +Patient as any other man. + + 1821.* +----- +THE BUYERS. + +To an apple-woman's stall + +Once some children nimbly ran; +Longing much to purchase all, +They with joyous haste began +Snatching up the piles there raised, +While with eager eyes they gazed +On the rosy fruit so nice; +But when they found out the price, +Down they threw the whole they'd got, +Just as if they were red hot. + + + * * * * * + +The man who gratis will his goods supply +Will never find a lack of folks to buy! + + 1820. +----- +THE MOUNTAIN VILLAGE. + +"THE mountain village was destroy'd; +But see how soon is fill'd the void! +Shingles and boards, as by magic arise, +The babe in his cradle and swaddling-clothes lies; +How blest to trust to God's protection!" + +Behold a wooden new erection, +So that, if sparks and wind but choose, +God's self at such a game must lose! + + 1821.* +----- +SYMBOLS. + +PALM Sunday at the Vatican + +They celebrate with palms; +With reverence bows each holy man, + +And chaunts the ancient psalms. +Those very psalms are also sung + +With olive boughs in hand, +While holly, mountain wilds among, + +In place of palms must stand: +In fine, one seeks some twig that's green, + +And takes a willow rod, +So that the pious man may e'en + +In small things praise his God. + +And if ye have observed it well, + +To gain what's fit ye're able, +If ye in faith can but excel; + +Such are the myths of fable. + + 1827.* +----- +THREE PALINODIAS. + +I. + +"Incense is hut a tribute for the gods,-- +To mortals 'tis but poison." + +THE smoke that from thine altar blows, + +Can it the gods offend? +For I observe thou hold'st thy nose-- + +Pray what does this portend? +Mankind deem incense to excel + +Each other earthly thing, +So he that cannot bear its smell, + +No incense e'er should bring. + +With unmoved face by thee at least + +To dolls is homage given; +If not obstructed by the priest, + +The scent mounts up to heaven. + + 1827.* + +II + +CONFLICT OF WIT AND BEAUTY. + +SIR Wit, who is so much esteem'd, + +And who is worthy of all honour, +Saw Beauty his superior deem'd + +By folks who loved to gaze upon her; +At this he was most sorely vex'd. + +Then came Sir Breath (long known as fit + +To represent the cause of wit), + +Beginning, rudely, I admit, +To treat the lady with a text. +To this she hearken'd not at all, +But hasten'd to his principal: +"None are so wise, they say, as you,-- +Is not the world enough for two? + +If you are obstinate, good-bye! +If wise, to love me you will try, +For be assured the world can ne'er +Give birth to a more handsome pair." + + 1827.* + +===== + +FAIR daughters were by Beauty rear'd, + +Wit had but dull sons for his lot; +So for a season it appear'd + +Beauty was constant, Wit was not. +But Wit's a native of the soil, + +So he return'd, work'd, strove amain, +And found--sweet guerdon for his toil!-- + +Beauty to quicken him again. + + 1827.* + +III. + +RAIN AND RAINBOW. + +DURING a heavy storm it chanced +That from his room a cockney glanced +At the fierce tempest as it broke, +While to his neighbour thus he spoke: +"The thunder has our awe inspired, +Our barns by lightning have been fired,-- +Our sins to punish, I suppose; +But in return, to soothe our woes, +See how the rain in torrents fell, +Making the harvest promise well! +But is't a rainbow that I spy +Extending o'er the dark-grey sky? +With it I'm sure we may dispense, +The colour'd cheat! The vain pretence!" +Dame Iris straightway thus replied: +"Dost dare my beauty to deride? +In realms of space God station'd me +A type of better worlds to be +To eyes that from life's sorrows rove +In cheerful hope to Heav'n above, +And, through the mists that hover here +God and his precepts blest revere. +Do thou, then, grovel like the swine, +And to the ground thy snout confine, +But suffer the enlighten'd eye +To feast upon my majesty." + + 1827.* + +VALEDICTION. + +I ONCE was fond of fools, + +And bid them come each day; +Then each one brought his tools + +The carpenter to play; +The roof to strip first choosing, + +Another to supply, +The wood as trestles using, + +To move it by-and-by, +While here and there they ran, + +And knock'd against each other; +To fret I soon began, + +My anger could not smother, +So cried, "Get out, ye fools!" + +At this they were offended +Then each one took his tools, + +And so our friendship ended. + +Since that, I've wiser been, + +And sit beside my door; +When one of them is seen, + +I cry, "Appear no more!" +"Hence, stupid knave!" I bellow: + +At this he's angry too: +"You impudent old fellow! + +And pray, sir, who are you? +Along the streets we riot, + +And revel at the fair; +But yet we're pretty quiet, + +And folks revile us ne'er. +Don't call us names, then, please!"-- +At length I meet with ease, + +For now they leave my door-- +'Tis better than before! + + 1827.* +----- +THE COUNTRY SCHOOLMASTER. + +I. + +A MASTER of a country school +Jump'd up one day from off his stool, +Inspired with firm resolve to try +To gain the best society; +So to the nearest baths he walk'd, +And into the saloon he stalk'd. +He felt quite. startled at the door, +Ne'er having seen the like before. +To the first stranger made he now +A very low and graceful bow, +But quite forgot to bear in mind +That people also stood behind; +His left-hand neighbor's paunch he struck +A grievous blow, by great ill luck; +Pardon for this he first entreated, +And then in haste his bow repeated. +His right hand neighbor next he hit, +And begg'd him, too, to pardon it; +But on his granting his petition, +Another was in like condition; +These compliments he paid to all, +Behind, before, across the hall; +At length one who could stand no more, +Show'd him impatiently the door. + + + * * * * + +May many, pond'ring on their crimes, +A moral draw from this betimes! + +II. + +As he proceeded on his way +He thought, "I was too weak to-day; +To bow I'll ne'er again be seen; +For goats will swallow what is green." +Across the fields he now must speed, +Not over stumps and stones, indeed, +But over meads and cornfields sweet, +Trampling down all with clumsy feet. +A farmer met him by-and-by, +And didn't ask him: how? or why? +But with his fist saluted him. + +"I feel new life in every limb!" +Our traveller cried in ecstasy. +"Who art thou who thus gladden'st me? +May Heaven such blessings ever send! +Ne'er may I want a jovial friend!" + + 1808.* +----- +THE LEGEND OF THE HORSESHOE. + +WHAT time our Lord still walk'd the earth, +Unknown, despised, of humble birth, +And on Him many a youth attended +(His words they seldom comprehended), +It ever seem'd to Him most meet +To hold His court in open street, +As under heaven's broad canopy +One speaks with greater liberty. +The teachings of His blessed word +From out His holy mouth were heard; +Each market to a fane turn'd He +With parable and simile. + +One day, as tow'rd a town He roved, +In peace of mind with those He loved, +Upon the path a something gleam'd; +A broken horseshoe 'twas, it seem'd. +So to St. Peter thus He spake: +"That piece of iron prythee take!" +St. Peter's thoughts had gone astray,-- +He had been musing on his way +Respecting the world's government, +A dream that always gives content, +For in the head 'tis check'd by nought; +This ever was his dearest thought, +For him this prize was far too mean +Had it a crown and sceptre been! +But, surely, 'twasn't worth the trouble +For half a horseshoe to bend double! +And so he turn'd away his head, +As if he heard not what was said, + +The Lord, forbearing tow'rd all men, +Himself pick'd up the horseshoe then +(He ne'er again like this stoop'd down). +And when at length they reach'd the town, +Before a smithy He remain'd, +And there a penny for 't obtain'd. +As they the market-place went by, +Some beauteous cherries caught His eye: +Accordingly He bought as many +As could be purchased for a penny, +And then, as oft His wont had been, +Placed them within His sleeve unseen. + +They went out by another gate, +O'er plains and fields proceeding straight, +No house or tree was near the spot, +The sun was bright, the day was hot; +In short, the weather being such, +A draught of water was worth much. +The Lord walk'd on before them all, +And let, unseen, a cherry fall. +St. Peter rush'd to seize it hold, +As though an apple 'twere of gold; +His palate much approv'd the berry; +The Lord ere long another cherry +Once more let fall upon the plain; +St. Peter forthwith stoop'd again. +The Lord kept making him thus bend +To pick up cherries without end. +For a long time the thing went on; +The Lord then said, in cheerful tone: +"Had'st thou but moved when thou wert bid, +Thou of this trouble had'st been rid; +The man who small things scorns, will next, +By things still smaller be perplex'd." + + 1797. +----- +A SYMBOL. + +(This fine poem is given by Goethe amongst a small collection of +what he calls Loge (Lodge), meaning thereby Masonic pieces.) + +THE mason's trade Observe them well, + +Resembles life, And watch them revealing + +With all its strife,-- How solemn feeling +Is like the stir made And wonderment swell + + By man on earth's face. The hearts of the brave. + +Though weal and woe The voice of the blest, + +The future may hide, And of spirits on high + +Unterrified Seems loudly to cry: +We onward go "To do what is best, + +In ne'er changing race. Unceasing endeavour! + +A veil of dread "In silence eterne + +Hangs heavier still. Here chaplets are twin'd, + +Deep slumbers fill That each noble mind +The stars over-head, Its guerdon may earn.-- + +And the foot-trodden grave. Then hope ye for ever!" + + 1827.* +----- + +ART. + +----- +Artist, fashion! talk not long! +Be a breath thine only song! +----- +THE DROPS OF NECTAR. + +WHEN Minerva, to give pleasure +To Prometheus, her well-loved one, +Brought a brimming bowl of nectar +From the glorious realms of heaven +As a blessing for his creatures, +And to pour into their bosoms +Impulses for arts ennobling, +She with rapid footstep hasten'd, +Fearing Jupiter might see her, +And the golden goblet trembled, +And there fell a few drops from it +On the verdant plain beneath her. +Then the busy bees flew thither +Straightway, eagerly to drink them, +And the butterfly came quickly +That he, too, might find a drop there; +Even the misshapen spider +Thither crawl'd and suck'd with vigour. + +To a happy end they tasted, +They, and other gentle insects! +For with mortals now divide they +ArtÄthat noblest gift of all. + + 1789.* +----- +THE WANDERER. + +[Published in the Gottingen Musen Almanach, having been written +"to express his feelings and caprices" after his separation from +Frederica.] + +WANDERER. + +YOUNG woman, may God bless thee, +Thee, and the sucking infant +Upon thy breast! +Let me, 'gainst this rocky wall, +Neath the elm-tree's shadow, +Lay aside my burden, +Near thee take my rest. + +WOMAN. + +What vocation leads thee, +While the day is burning, +Up this dusty path? +Bring'st thou goods from out the town +Round the country? +Smil'st thou, stranger, +At my question? + +WANDERER. + +From the town no goods I bring. +Cool is now the evening; +Show to me the fountain +'Whence thou drinkest, +Woman young and kind! + +WOMAN. + +Up the rocky pathway mount; +Go thou first! Across the thicket +Leads the pathway tow'rd the cottage +That I live in, +To the fountain +Whence I drink. + +WANDERER. + +Signs of man's arranging hand +See I 'mid the trees! +Not by thee these stones were join'd, +Nature, who so freely scatterest! + +WOMAN. + +Up, still up! + +WANDERER. + +Lo, a mossy architrave is here! +I discern thee, fashioning spirit! +On the stone thou hast impress'd thy seal. + +WOMAN. + +Onward, stranger! + +WANDERER. + +Over an inscription am I treading! +'Tis effaced! +Ye are seen no longer, +Words so deeply graven, +Who your master's true devotion +Should have shown to thousand grandsons! + +WOMAN. + +At these stones, why +Start'st thou, stranger? +Many stones are lying yonder +Round my cottage. + +WANDERER. + +Yonder? + +WOMAN. + +Through the thicket, +Turning to the left, +Here! + +WANDERER. + +Ye Muses and ye Graces! + +WOMAN. + +This, then, is my cottage. + +WANDERER. + +'Tis a ruin'd temple! * + +WOMAN. + +Just below it, see, +Springs the fountain +Whence I drink. + +WANDERER. + +Thou dost hover +O'er thy grave, all glowing, +Genius! while upon thee +Hath thy master-piece +Fallen crumbling, +Thou Immortal One! + +WOMAN. + +Stay, a cup I'll fetch thee +Whence to drink. + +WANDERER. + +Ivy circles thy slender +Form so graceful and godlike. +How ye rise on high +From the ruins, +Column-pair +And thou, their lonely sister yonder,-- +How thou, +Dusky moss upon thy sacred head,-- +Lookest down in mournful majesty +On thy brethren's figures +Lying scatter'd +At thy feet! +In the shadow of the bramble +Earth and rubbish veil them, +Lofty grass is waving o'er them +Is it thus thou, Nature, prizest +Thy great masterpiece's masterpiece? +Carelessly destroyest thou +Thine own sanctuary, +Sowing thistles there? + +WOMAN. + +How the infant sleeps! +Wilt thou rest thee in the cottage, +Stranger? Wouldst thou rather +In the open air still linger? +Now 'tis cool! take thou the child +While I go and draw some water. +Sleep on, darling! sleep! + +WANDERER. + +Sweet is thy repose! +How, with heaven-born health imbued, +Peacefully he slumbers! +Oh thou, born among the ruins +Spread by great antiquity, +On thee rest her spirit! +He whom it encircles +Will, in godlike consciousness, +Ev'ry day enjoy. +Full, of germ, unfold, +As the smiling springtime's +Fairest charm, +Outshining all thy fellows! +And when the blossom's husk is faded, +May the full fruit shoot forth +From out thy breast, +And ripen in the sunshine! + +WOMAN. + +God bless him!--Is he sleeping still? +To the fresh draught I nought can add, +Saving a crust of bread for thee to eat. + +WANDERER. + +I thank thee well. +How fair the verdure all around! +How green! + +WOMAN. + +My husband soon +Will home return +From labour. Tarry, tarry, man, +And with us eat our evening meal. + +WANDERER. + +Is't here ye dwell? + +WOMAN. + +Yonder, within those walls we live. +My father 'twas who built the cottage +Of tiles and stones from out the ruins. +'Tis here we dwell. +He gave me to a husbandman, +And in our arms expired.-- +Hast thou been sleeping, dearest heart +How lively, and how full of play! +Sweet rogue! + +WANDERER. + +Nature, thou ever budding one, +Thou formest each for life's enjoyments, +And, like a mother, all thy children dear, +Blessest with that sweet heritage,--a home +The swallow builds the cornice round, +Unconscious of the beauties +She plasters up. +The caterpillar spins around the bough, +To make her brood a winter house; +And thou dost patch, between antiquity's +Most glorious relics, +For thy mean use, +Oh man, a humble cot,-- +Enjoyest e'en mid tombs!-- +Farewell, thou happy woman! + +WOMAN. + +Thou wilt not stay, then? + +WANDERER. + +May God preserve thee, +And bless thy boy! + +WOMAN. + +A happy journey! + +WANDERER. + +Whither conducts the path +Across yon hill? + +WOMAN. + +To Cuma. + +WANDERER. + +How far from hence? + +WOMAN. + +'Tis full three miles. + +WANDERER. + +Farewell! +Oh Nature, guide me on my way! +The wandering stranger guide, +Who o'er the tombs +Of holy bygone times +Is passing, +To a kind sheltering place, +From North winds safe, +And where a poplar grove +Shuts out the noontide ray! +And when I come +Home to my cot +At evening, +Illumined by the setting sun, +Let me embrace a wife like this, +Her infant in her arms! + + 1772. +* Compare with the beautiful description contained in the +subsequent lines, an account of a ruined temple of Ceres, given +by Chamberlayne in his Pharonnida (published in 1659) + +".... With mournful majesiy +A heap of solitary ruins lie, +Half sepulchred in dust, the bankrupt heir +To prodigal antiquity...." +----- +LOVE AS A LANDSCAPE PAINTER. + +ON a rocky peak once sat I early, +Gazing on the mist with eyes unmoving; +Stretch'd out like a pall of greyish texture, +All things round, and all above it cover'd. + +Suddenly a boy appear'd beside me, +Saying "Friend, what meanest thou by gazing +On the vacant pall with such composure? +Hast thou lost for evermore all pleasure +Both in painting cunningly, and forming?" +On the child I gazed, and thought in secret: +"Would the boy pretend to be a master?" + +"Wouldst thou be for ever dull and idle," +Said the boy, "no wisdom thou'lt attain to; +See, I'll straightway paint for thee a figure,-- +How to paint a beauteous figure, show thee." + +And he then extended his fore-finger,-- +(Ruddy was it as a youthful rosebud) +Tow'rd the broad and far outstretching carpet, +And began to draw there with his finger. + +First on high a radiant sun he painted, +Which upon mine eyes with splendour glisten'd, +And he made the clouds with golden border, +Through the clouds he let the sunbeams enter; +Painted then the soft and feathery summits +Of the fresh and quicken'd trees, behind them +One by one with freedom drew the mountains; +Underneath he left no lack of water, +But the river painted so like Nature, +That it seem'd to glitter in the sunbeams, +That it seem'd against its banks to murmur. + +Ah, there blossom'd flowers beside the river, +And bright colours gleam'd upon the meadow, +Gold, and green, and purple, and enamell'd, +All like carbuncles and emeralds seeming! + +Bright and clear he added then the heavens, +And the blue-tinged mountains far and farther, +So that I, as though newborn, enraptured +Gazed on, now the painter, now the picture. + +Then spake he: "Although I have convinced thee +That this art I understand full surely, +Yet the hardest still is left to show thee." + +Thereupon he traced, with pointed finger, +And with anxious care, upon the forest, +At the utmost verge, where the strong sunbeams +From the shining ground appear'd reflected, + +Traced the figure of a lovely maiden, +Fair in form, and clad in graceful fashion, +Fresh the cheeks beneath her brown locks' ambush, +And the cheeks possess'd the selfsame colour +As the finger that had served to paint them. + +"Oh thou boy!" exclaim'd I then, "what master +In his school received thee as his pupil, +Teaching thee so truthfully and quickly +Wisely to begin, and well to finish?" + +Whilst I still was speaking, lo, a zephyr +Softly rose, and set the tree-tops moving, +Curling all the wavelets on the river, +And the perfect maiden's veil, too, fill'd it, +And to make my wonderment still greater, +Soon the maiden set her foot in motion. +On she came, approaching tow'rd the station +Where still sat I with my arch instructor. + +As now all, yes, all thus moved together,-- +Flowers, river, trees, the veil,--all moving,-- +And the gentle foot of that most fair one, +Can ye think that on my rock I linger'd, +Like a rock, as though fast-chain'd and silent? + + 1788. +----- + +GOD, SOUL, AND WORLD. + +----- +RHYMED DISTICHS. + +[The Distichs, of which these are given as a specimen, are about +forty in number.] + +WHO trusts in God, +Fears not His rod. +----- +THIS truth may be by all believed: +Whom God deceives, is well deceived. +----- +HOW? when? and where?--No answer comes from high; +Thou wait'st for the Because, and yet thou ask'st not Why? +----- +IF the whole is ever to gladden thee, +That whole in the smallest thing thou must see. +----- +WATER its living strength first shows, +When obstacles its course oppose. +----- +TRANSPARENT appears the radiant air, +Though steel and stone in its breast it may bear; +At length they'll meet with fiery power, +And metal and stones on the earth will shower. +------ +WHATE'ER a living flame may surround, +No longer is shapeless, or earthly bound. +'Tis now invisible, flies from earth, +And hastens on high to the place of its birth. + + 1815.* +------ +PROCEMION. + +IN His blest name, who was His own creation, +Who from all time makes making his vocation; +The name of Him who makes our faith so bright, +Love, confidence, activity, and might; +In that One's name, who, named though oft He be, +Unknown is ever in Reality: +As far as ear can reach, or eyesight dim, +Thou findest but the known resembling Him; +How high so'er thy fiery spirit hovers, +Its simile and type it straight discovers +Onward thou'rt drawn, with feelings light and gay, +Where'er thou goest, smiling is the way; +No more thou numbrest, reckonest no time, +Each step is infinite, each step sublime. + + 1816. +----- +WHAT God would outwardly alone control, +And on his finger whirl the mighty Whole? +He loves the inner world to move, to view +Nature in Him, Himself in Nature too, +So that what in Him works, and is, and lives, +The measure of His strength, His spirit gives. + + 1816. +----- +WITHIN us all a universe doth dwell; +And hence each people's usage laudable, +That ev'ry one the Best that meets his eyes +As God, yea e'en his God, doth recognise; +To Him both earth and heaven surrenders he, +Fears Him, and loves Him too, if that may be. + + 1816. +----- +THE METAMORPHOSIS OF PLANTS. + +THOU art confused, my beloved, at, seeing the thousandfold union + +Shown in this flowery troop, over the garden dispers'd; +any a name dost thou hear assign'd; one after another + +Falls on thy list'ning ear, with a barbarian sound. +None resembleth another, yet all their forms have a likeness; + +Therefore, a mystical law is by the chorus proclaim'd; +Yes, a sacred enigma! Oh, dearest friend, could I only + +Happily teach thee the word, which may the mystery solve! +Closely observe how the plant, by little and little progressing, + +Step by step guided on, changeth to blossom and fruit! +First from the seed it unravels itself, as soon as the silent + +Fruit-bearing womb of the earth kindly allows Its escape, +And to the charms of the light, the holy, the ever-in-motion, + +Trusteth the delicate leaves, feebly beginning to shoot. +Simply slumber'd the force in the seed; a germ of the future, + +Peacefully lock'd in itself, 'neath the integument lay, +Leaf and root, and bud, still void of colour, and shapeless; + +Thus doth the kernel, while dry, cover that motionless life. +Upward then strives it to swell, in gentle moisture confiding, + +And, from the night where it dwelt, straightway ascendeth to light. +Yet still simple remaineth its figure, when first it appeareth; + +And 'tis a token like this, points out the child 'mid the plants. +Soon a shoot, succeeding it, riseth on high, and reneweth, + +Piling-up node upon node, ever the primitive form; +Yet not ever alike: for the following leaf, as thou seest, + +Ever produceth itself, fashioned in manifold ways. +Longer, more indented, in points and in parts more divided, + +Which. all-deform'd until now, slept in the organ below, +So at length it attaineth the noble and destined perfection, + +Which, in full many a tribe, fills thee with wondering awe. +Many ribb'd and tooth'd, on a surface juicy and swelling, + +Free and unending the shoot seemeth in fullness to be; +Yet here Nature restraineth, with powerful hands, the formation, + +And to a perfecter end, guideth with softness its growth, +Less abundantly yielding the sap, contracting the vessels, + +So that the figure ere long gentler effects doth disclose. +Soon and in silence is check'd the growth of the vigorous branches, + +And the rib of the stalk fuller becometh in form. +Leafless, however, and quick the tenderer stem then up-springeth, + +And a miraculous sight doth the observer enchant. +Ranged in a circle, in numbers that now are small, and now countless, + +Gather the smaller-sized leaves, close by the side of their like. +Round the axis compress'd the sheltering calyx unfoldeth, + +And, as the perfectest type, brilliant-hued coronals forms. +Thus doth Nature bloom, in glory still nobler and fuller, + +Showing, in order arranged, member on member uprear'd. +Wonderment fresh dost thou feel, as soon as the stem rears the flower + +Over the scaffolding frail of the alternating leaves. +But this glory is only the new creation's foreteller, + +Yes, the leaf with its hues feeleth the hand all divine, +And on a sudden contracteth itself; the tenderest figures + +Twofold as yet, hasten on, destined to blend into one. +Lovingly now the beauteous pairs are standing together, + +Gather'd in countless array, there where the altar is raised. +Hymen hovereth o'er them, and scents delicious and mighty + +Stream forth their fragrance so sweet, all things enliv'ning around. +Presently, parcell'd out, unnumber'd germs are seen swelling, + +Sweetly conceald in the womb, where is made perfect the fruit. +Here doth Nature close the ring of her forces eternal; + +Yet doth a new one, at once, cling to the one gone before, +So that the chain be prolonged for ever through all generations, + +And that the whole may have life, e'en as enjoy'd by each part. +Now, my beloved one, turn thy gaze on the many-hued thousands + +Which, confusing no more, gladden the mind as they wave. +Every plant unto thee proclaimeth the laws everlasting, + +Every flowered speaks louder and louder to thee; +But if thou here canst decipher the mystic words of the goddess, + +Everywhere will they be seen, e'en though the features are changed. +Creeping insects may linger, the eager butterfly hasten,-- + +Plastic and forming, may man change e'en the figure decreed! +Oh, then, bethink thee, as well, how out of the germ of acquaintance, + +Kindly intercourse sprang, slowly unfolding its leaves; +Soon how friendship with might unveil'd itself in our bosoms, + +And how Amor, at length, brought forth blossom and fruit +Think of the manifold ways wherein Nature hath lent to our feelings, + +Silently giving them birth, either the first or the last! +Yes, and rejoice in the present day! For love that is holy + +Seeketh the noblest of fruits,--that where the thoughts are the same, +Where the opinions agree,--that the pair may, in rapt contemplation, + +Lovingly blend into one,--find the more excellent world. + + 1797. +----- + +PROVERBS. + +----- +'TIS easier far a wreath to bind, +Than a good owner fort to find. +----- +I KILL'D a thousand flies overnight, +Yet was waken'd by one, as soon as twas light. +----- +To the mother I give; +For the daughter I live. +----- +A BREACH is every day, + +By many a mortal storm'd; +Let them fall in the gaps as they may, + +Yet a heap of dead is ne'er form'd. +----- +WHAT harm has thy poor mirror done, alas? +Look not so ugly, prythee, in the glass! + + 1815.* +----- +TAME XENIA. + + +THE Epigrams bearing the title of XENIA were written by Goethe +and Schiller together, having been first occasioned by some +violent attacks made on them by some insignificant writers. They +are extremely numerous, but scarcely any of them could be +translated into English. Those here given are merely presented as +a specimen. + +GOD gave to mortals birth, + +In his own image too; +Then came Himself to earth, + +A mortal kind and true. + + 1821.* +----- +BARBARIANS oft endeavour + +Gods for themselves to make +But they're more hideous ever + +Than dragon or than snake. + + 1821.* +----- +WHAT shall I teach thee, the very first thing?-- +Fain would I learn o'er my shadow to spring! + + 1827.* +----- +"WHAT is science, rightly known? +'Tis the strength of life alone. +Life canst thou engender never, +Life must be life's parent ever. + + 1827.* +----- +It matters not, I ween, + +Where worms our friends consume, +Beneath the turf so green, + +Or 'neath a marble tomb. +Remember, ye who live, + +Though frowns the fleeting day, +That to your friends ye give + +What never will decay. + + 1827.* +----- + +RELIGION AND CHURCH. + +----- +THOUGHTS ON JESUS CHRIST'S DESCENT INTO HELL. + +[THE remarkable Poem of which this is a literal but faint +representation, was written when Goethe was only sixteen years +old. It derives additional interest from the fact of its being +the very earliest piece of his that is preserved. The few other +pieces included by Goethe under the title of Religion and Church +are polemical, and devoid of interest to the English reader.] + +WHAT wondrous noise is heard around! +Through heaven exulting voices sound, + +A mighty army marches on +By thousand millions follow'd, lo, +To yon dark place makes haste to go + +God's Son, descending from His throne! +He goes--the tempests round Him break, + +As Judge and Hero cometh He; +He goes--the constellations quake, + +The sun, the world quake fearfully. + +I see Him in His victor-car, +On fiery axles borne afar, + +Who on the cross for us expired. +The triumph to yon realms He shows,-- +Remote from earth, where star ne'er glows, + +The triumph He for us acquired. +He cometh, Hell to extirpate, + +Whom He, by dying, wellnigh kill'd; +He shall pronounce her fearful fate + +Hark! now the curse is straight fulfill'd. + +Hell sees the victor come at last, +She feels that now her reign is past, + +She quakes and fears to meet His sight; +She knows His thunders' terrors dread, +In vain she seeks to hide her head, + +Attempts to fly, but vain is flight; +Vainly she hastes to 'scape pursuit + +And to avoid her Judge's eye; +The Lord's fierce wrath restrains her foot + +Like brazen chains,--she cannot fly. + +Here lies the Dragon, trampled down, +He lies, and feels God's angry frown, + +He feels, and grinneth hideously; +He feels Hell's speechless agonies, +A thousand times he howls and sighs: + +"Oh, burning flames! quick, swallow me!" +There lies he in the fiery waves, + +By torments rack'd and pangs infernal, +Instant annihilation craves, + +And hears, those pangs will be eternal. + +Those mighty squadrons, too, are here, +The partners of his cursed career, + +Yet far less bad than he were they. +Here lies the countless throng combined, +In black and fearful crowds entwined, + +While round him fiery tempests play; +He sees how they the Judge avoid, + +He sees the storm upon them feed, +Yet is not at the sight o'erjoy'd, + +Because his pangs e'en theirs exceed. + +The Son of Man in triumph passes +Down to Hell's wild and black morasses, + +And there unfolds His majesty. +Hell cannot bear the bright array, +For, since her first created day. + +Darkness alone e'er govern'd she. +She lay remote from ev'ry light + +With torments fill'd in Chaos here; +God turn'd for ever from her sight + +His radiant features' glory clear. + +Within the realms she calls her own, +She sees the splendour of the Son, + +His dreaded glories shining forth; +She sees Him clad in rolling thunder, +She sees the rocks all quake with wonder, + +When God before her stands in wrath. +She sees He comes her Judge to be, + +She feels the awful pangs inside her, +Herself to slay endeavours she, + +But e'en this comfort is denied her. + +Now looks she back, with pains untold, +Upon those happy times of old, + +When those glories gave her joy; +When yet her heart revered the truth, +When her glad soul, in endless youth + +And rapture dwelt, without alloy. +She calls to mind with madden'd thought + +How over man her wiles prevail'd; +To take revenge on God she sought, + +And feels the vengeance it entail'd. + +God was made man, and came to earth. +Then Satan cried with fearful mirth: + +"E'en He my victim now shall be!" +He sought to slay the Lord Most High, +The world's Creator now must die; + +But, Satan, endless woe to thee! +Thou thought'st to overcome Him then, + +Rejoicing in His suffering; +But he in triumph comes again + +To bind thee: Death! where is thy sting? + +Speak, Hell! where is thy victory? +Thy power destroy'd and scatter'd see! + +Know'st thou not now the Highest's might? +See, Satan, see thy rule o'erthrown! + +By thousand-varying pangs weigh'd down, +Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night. + +As though by lightning struck thou liest, +No gleam of rapture far or wide; + +In vain! no hope thou there decriest,-- +For me alone Messiah died! + +A howling rises through the air, +A trembling fills each dark vault there, + +When Christ to Hell is seen to come. +She snarls with rage, but needs must cower +Before our mighty hero's power; + +He signs--and Hell is straightway dumb. +Before his voice the thunders break, + +On high His victor-banner blows; +E'en angels at His fury quake, + +When Christ to the dread judgment goes. + +Now speaks He, and His voice is thunder, +He speaks, the rocks are rent in sunder, + +His breath is like devouring flames. +Thus speaks He: "Tremble, ye accurs'd! +He who from Eden hurl'd you erst, + +Your kingdom's overthrow proclaims. +Look up! My children once were ye, + +Your arms against Me then ye turn'd, +Ye fell, that ye might sinners be, + +Ye've now the wages that ye earn'd. + +"My greatest foeman from that day, +Ye led my dearest friends astray,-- + +As ye had fallen, man must fall. +To kill him evermore ye sought, +'They all shall die the death,' ye thought; + +But howl! for Me I won them all. +For them alone did I descend, + +For them pray'd, suffer'd, perish'd I. +Ye ne'er shall gain your wicked end; + +Who trusts in Me shall never die. + +"In endless chains here lie ye now, +Nothing can save you from the slough. + +Not boldness, not regret for crime. +Lie, then, and writhe in brimstone fire! +'Twas ye yourselves drew down Mine ire, + +Lie and lament throughout all time! +And also ye, whom I selected, + +E'en ye forever I disown, +For ye My saving grace rejected + +Ye murmur? blame yourselves alone! + +"Ye might have lived with Me in bliss, +For I of yore had promis'd this; + +Ye sinn'd, and all My precepts slighted +Wrapp'd in the sleep of sin ye dwelt, +Now is My fearful judgment felt, + +By a just doom your guilt requited."-- +Thus spake He, and a fearful storm + +From Him proceeds, the lightnings glow, +The thunders seize each wicked form, + +And hurl them in the gulf below. + +The God-man closeth Hell's sad doors, +In all His majesty He soars + +From those dark regions back to light. +He sitteth at the Father's side; +Oh, friends, what joy doth this betide! + +For us, for us He still will fight! +The angels sacred quire around + +Rejoice before the mighty Lord, +So that all creatures hear the sound: + +"Zebaoth's God be aye ador'd!" + + 1765. +----- + +ANTIQUES. + +----- +LEOPOLD, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK. + +[Written on the occasion of the death, by drowning, of the +Prince.] + +THOU wert forcibly seized by the hoary lord of the river,-- + +Holding thee, ever he shares with thee his streaming domain, +Calmly sleepest thou near his urn as it silently trickles, + +Till thou to action art roused, waked by the swift-rolling flood. +Kindly be to the people, as when thou still wert a mortal, + +Perfecting that as a god, which thou didst fail in, as man. + + 1785. +----- +TO THE HUSBANDMAN. + +SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd; + +Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last. +Joyously plough'd and sow'd! Here food all living is budding, + +E'en from the side of the tomb Hope will not vanish away. + + 1789.* +----- +ANACREON'S GRAVE. + +HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are twining, + +Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard, +Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals + +Beauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep +Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel, + +And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last. + + 1789.* +----- +THE BRETHREN. + +SLUMBER and Sleep, two brethren ordain'd by the gods to their service, + +Were by Prometheus implored, comfort to give to his race; +But though so light to the gods, too heavy for man was their burden, + +We in their slumber find sleep, we in their sleep meet with death. + + 1789.* +----- +MEASURE OF TIME. + +EROS, what mean'st thou by this? In each of thine hands is an hourglass! + +What, oh thou frivolous god! twofold thy measure of time? +"Slowly run from the one, the hours of lovers when parted; + +While through the other they rush swiftly, as soon as they meet." + + 1789.* +----- +WARNING. + +WAKEN not Amor from sleep! The beauteous urchin still slumbers; + +Go, and complete thou the task, that to the day is assign'd! +Thus doth the prudent mother with care turn time to her profit, + +While her babe is asleep, for 'twill awake but too soon. + + 1785.* +----- +SOLITUDE. + +OH ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets, + +Grant unto each whatsoe'er he may in silence desire! +Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction, + +And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves. +For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals, + +Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide. + + 1782. +----- +THE CHOSEN CLIFF. + +HERE in silence the lover fondly mused on his loved one; + +Gladly he spake to me thus: "Be thou my witness, thou stone! +Yet thou must not be vainglorious, thou hast many companions; + +Unto each rock on the plain, where I, the happy one, dwell, +Unto each tree of the wood that I cling to, as onward I ramble, + +'Be thou a sign of my bliss!' shout I, and then 'tis ordain'd. +Yet to thee only I lend a voice, as a Muse from the people + +Chooseth one for herself, kissing his lips as a friend." + + 1782. +----- +THE CONSECRATED SPOT. + +WHEN in the dance of the Nymphs, in the moonlight so holy assembled, + +Mingle the Graces, down from Olympus in secret descending, +Here doth the minstrel hide, and list to their numbers enthralling, + +Here doth he watch their silent dances' mysterious measure. +All that is glorious in Heaven, and all that the earth in her beauty + +Ever hath brought into life, the dreamer awake sees before him; +All he repeats to the Muses, and lest the gods should be anger'd, + +How to tell of secrets discreetly, the Muses instruct him. + + 1789.* +----- +THE INSTRUCTORS. + +WHEN Diogenes quietly sunn'd himself in his barrel, + +When Calanus with joy leapt in the flame-breathing grave, +Oh, what noble lessons were those for the rash son of Philip, + +Were not the lord of the world e'en for instruction too great! + + 1789.* +----- +THE UNEQUAL MARRIAGE, + +EVEN this heavenly pair were unequally match'd when united: + +Psyche grew older and wise, Amor remain'd still a child, + + 1789.* +----- +EXCUSE. + +THOU dost complain of woman for changing from one to another? + +Censure her not: for she seeks one who will constant remain. + + 1789.* +----- +SAKONTALA. + +WOULDST thou the blossoms of spring, as well as the fruits of the autumn, + +Wouldst thou what charms and delights, wouldst thou what + +plenteously, feeds, +Would thou include both Heaven and earth in one designation, + +All that is needed is done, when I Sakontala name. + + 1792. +----- +THE MUSE'S MIRROR. + +EARLY one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment, +Follow'd a swift-running streamlet, the quietest nook by it seeking. +Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful surface distorted +Ever her moving form; the goddess departed in anger. +Yet the stream call'd mockingly after her, saying: "What, truly! +Wilt thou not view, then, the truth, in my mirror so clearly depicted?" +But she already was far away, on the brink of the ocean, +In her figure rejoicing, and duly arranging her garland. + + 1799.* +----- +PHOEBUS AND HERMES. + +DELOS' stately ruler, and Maia's son, the adroit one, + +Warmly were striving, for both sought the great prize to obtain. +Hermes the lyre demanded, the lyre was claim'd by Apollo, + +Yet were the hearts of the foes fruitlessly nourish'd by hope. +For on a sudden Ares burst in, with fury decisive, + +Dashing in twain the gold toy, brandishing wildly his sword. +Hermes, malicious one, laughed beyond measure; yet deep-seated sorrow + +Seized upon Phoebus's heart, seized on the heart of each Muse. + + 1799.* +----- +THE NEW AMOR. + +AMOR, not the child, the youthful lover of Psyche, +Look'd round Olympus one day, boldly, to triumph inured; +There he espied a goddess, the fairest amongst the immortals,-- +Venus Urania she,--straight was his passion inflamed. +Even the holy one powerless proved, alas! 'gainst his wooing,-- +Tightly embraced in his arm, held her the daring one fast. +Then from their union arose a new, a more beauteous Amor, +Who from his father his wit, grace from his mother derives. +Ever thou'lt find him join'd in the kindly Muses' communion, +And his charm-laden bolt foundeth the love of the arts. + + 1792. +----- +THE GARLANDS. + +KLOPSTOCK would lead us away from Pindus; no longer for laurel +May we be eager--the homely acorn alone must content us; +Yet he himself his more-than-epic crusade is conducting +High on Golgotha's summit, that foreign gods he may honour! +Yet, on what hill he prefers, let him gather the angels together, +Suffer deserted disciples to weep o'er the grave of the just one: +There where a hero and saint hath died, where a bard breath'd his numbers, +Both for our life and our death an ensample of courage resplendent +And of the loftiest human worth to bequeath,--ev'ry nation +There will joyously kneel in devotion ecstatic, revering +Thorn and laurel garland, and all its charms and its tortures. + + 1815.* +----- +THE SWISS ALPS. + +YESTERDAY brown was still thy head, as the locks of my loved one, + +Whose sweet image so dear silently beckons afar. +Silver-grey is the early snow to-day on thy summit, + +Through the tempestuous night streaming fast over thy brow. +Youth, alas, throughout life as closely to age is united + +As, in some changeable dream, yesterday blends with to-day. + + Uri, October 7th, 1797. +----- +DISTICHS. + +CHORDS are touch'd by Apollo,--the death-laden bow, too, he bendeth; + +While he the shepherdess charms, Python he lays in the dust. +----- +WHAT is merciful censure? To make thy faults appear smaller? + +May be to veil them? No, no! O'er them to raise thee on high! +----- +DEMOCRATIC food soon cloys on the multitude's stomach; +But I'll wager, ere long, other thou'lt give them instead. +----- +WHAT in France has pass'd by, the Germans continue to practise, + +For the proudest of men flatters the people and fawns. +----- +WHO is the happiest of men? He who values the merits of others, + And in their pleasure takes joy, even as though 'twere his own. +----- +NOT in the morning alone, not only at mid-day he charmeth; + +Even at setting, the sun is still the same glorious planet. +----- + +VENETIAN EPIGRAMS. +(Written in 1790.) +----- +URN and sarcophagus erst were with life adorn'd by the heathen + +Fauns are dancing around, while with the Bacchanal troop +Chequerd circles they trace; and the goat-footed, puffy-cheekd player + +Wildly produceth hoarse tones out of the clamorous horn. +Cymbals and drums resound; we see and we hear, too, the marble. + +Fluttering bird! oh how sweet tastes the ripe fruit to thy bill! +Noise there is none to disturb thee, still less to scare away Amor, + +Who, in the midst of the throng, learns to delight in his torch. +Thus doth fullness overcome death; and the ashes there cover'd + +Seem, in that silent domain, still to be gladdend with life. +Thus may the minstrel's sarcophagus be hereafter surrounded + +With such a scroll, which himself richly with life has adorn'd. +----- +CLASP'D in my arms for ever eagerly hold I my mistress, + +Ever my panting heart throbs wildly against her dear breast, +And on her knees forever is leaning my head, while I'm gazing + +Now on her sweet-smiling mouth, now on her bright sparkling eyes. +"Oh thou effeminate!" spake one, "and thus, then, thy days thou + +art spending?" + +Ah, they in sorrow are spent. List while I tell thee my tale: +Yes! I have left my only joy in life far behind me, + +Twenty long days hath my car borne me away from her sight. +Vettrini defy me, while crafty chamberlains flatter, + +And the sly Valet de place thinks but of lies and deceit. +If I attempt to escape, the Postmaster fastens upon me, + +Postboys the upper hand get, custom-house duties enrage. +"Truly, I can't understand thee! thou talkest enigmas! thou seemest + +Wrapp'd in a blissful repose, glad as Rinaldo of yore: +Ah, I myself understand full well; 'tis my body that travels, + +And 'tis my spirit that rests still in my mistress's arms. +----- +I WOULD liken this gondola unto the soft-rocking cradle, + +And the chest on its deck seems a vast coffin to be. +Yes! 'tween the cradle and coffin, we totter and waver for ever + +On the mighty canal, careless our lifetime is spent. +----- +WHY are the people thus busily moving? For food they are seeking, + +Children they fain would beget, feeding them well as they can. +Traveller, mark this well, and when thou art home, do thou likewise! + +More can no mortal effect, work with what ardour he will. +----- +I WOULD compare to the land this anvil, its lord to the hammer, + +And to the people the plate, which in the middle is bent. +Sad is the poor tin-plate's lot, when the blows are but given at random: + +Ne'er will the kettle be made, while they uncertainly fall. +----- +WHAT is the life of a man? Yet thousands are ever accustom'd +Freely to talk about man,--what he has done, too, and how. +Even less is a poem; yet thousands read and enjoy it, +Thousands abuse it.--My friend, live and continue to rhyme! +----- +MERRY'S the trade of a poet; but somewhat a dear one, I fear me + +For, as my book grows apace, all of my sequins I lose. +----- +Is' thou'rt in earnest, no longer delay, but render me happy; +Art thou in jest? Ah, sweet love! time for all jesting is past. +----- +ART thou, then, vex'd at my silence? What shall I speak of? Thou markest + +Neither my sorrowful sigh, nor my soft eloquent look. +Only one goddess is able the seal of my lips to unloosen,-- + +When by Aurora I'm found, slumbering calm on thy breast. +Ah, then my hymn in the ears of the earliest gods shall be chaunted, + +As the Memnonian form breath'd forth sweet secrets in song. +----- +IN the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain,-- + +Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest herald of day,-- +And to await, with impatience, the gaze of the ruler of heaven,-- + +Youthful delight, oh oft lur'st thou me out in the night! +Oh ye heralds of day, ye heavenly eyes of my mistress, + +Now ye appear, and the sun evermore riseth too soon. +----- +THOU art amazed, and dost point to the ocean. It seems to be burning, +Flame-crested billows in play dart round our night-moving bark. +Me it astonisheth not,--of the ocean was born Aphrodite,-- +Did not a flame, too, proceed from her for us, in her son? +----- +GLEAMING the ocean appear'd, the beauteous billows were smiling, + +While a fresh, favouring wind, filling the sails, drove us on. +Free was my bosom from yearning; yet soon my languishing glances + +Turn'd themselves backward in haste, seeking the snow-cover'd hills. +Treasures unnumber'd are southwards lying. Yet one to the northwards + +Draws me resistlessly back, like the strong magnet in force. +----- +SPACIOUS and fair is the world; yet oh! how I thank the kind heavens + +That I a garden possess, small though it be, yet mine own. +One which enticeth me homewards; why should a gardener wander? + +Honour and pleasure he finds, when to his garden he looks. +----- +AH, my maiden is going! she mounts the vessel! My monarch, + +AEolus! potentate dread! keep ev'ry storm far away! +"Oh, thou fool!" cried the god:"ne'er fear the blustering tempest; + +When Love flutters his wings, then mayst thou dread the soft breeze." +----- + +ELEGIES. + +----- +PART I. + +ROMAN ELEGIES. + +[The Roman Elegies were written in the same year as the Venetian +Epigrams--viz. 1790.] + +SPEAK, ye stones, I entreat! Oh speak, ye palaces lofty! + +Utter a word, oh ye streets! Wilt thou not, Genius, awake? +All that thy sacred walls, eternal Rome, hold within them + +Teemeth with life; but to me, all is still silent and dead. +Oh, who will whisper unto me,--when shall I see at the casement + +That one beauteous form, which, while it scorcheth, revives? +Can I as yet not discern the road, on which I for ever + +To her and from her shall go, heeding not time as it flies? +Still do I mark the churches, palaces, ruins, and columns, + +As a wise traveller should, would he his journey improve. +Soon all this will be past; and then will there be but one temple, + +Amor's temple alone, where the Initiate may go. +Thou art indeed a world, oh Rome; and yet, were Love absent, + +Then would the world be no world, then would e'en Rome be no Rome. +----- +Do not repent, mine own love, that thou so soon didst surrender + +Trust me, I deem thee not bold! reverence only I feel. +Manifold workings the darts of Amor possess; some but scratching, + +Yet with insidious effect, poison the bosom for years. +Others mightily feather'd, with fresh and newly-born sharpness + +Pierce to the innermost bone, kindle the blood into flame. +In the heroical times, when loved each god and each goddess, + +Longing attended on sight; then with fruition was bless'd. +Think'st thou the goddess had long been thinking of love and its pleasures + +When she, in Ida's retreats, own'd to Anchises her flame? +Had but Luna delayd to kiss the beautiful sleeper, + +Oh, by Aurora, ere long, he had in envy been rous'd! +Hero Leander espied at the noisy feast, and the lover + +Hotly and nimbly, ere long, plunged in the night-cover'd flood. +Rhea Silvia, virgin princess, roam'd near the Tiber, + +Seeking there water to draw, when by the god she was seiz'd. +Thus were the sons of Mars begotten! The twins did a she-wolf + +Suckle and nurture,--and Rome call'd herself queen of the world, +----- +ALEXANDER, and Caesar, and Henry, and Fred'rick, the mighty, + +On me would gladly bestow half of the glory they earn'd, +Could I but grant unto each one night on the couch where I'm lying; + +But they, by Orcus's night, sternly, alas! are held down. +Therefore rejoice, oh thou living one, blest in thy love-lighted homestead, + +Ere the dark Lethe's sad wave wetteth thy fugitive foot. +----- +THESE few leaves, oh ye Graces, a bard presents, in your honour, + +On your altar so pure, adding sweet rosebuds as well, +And he does it with hope. The artist is glad in his workshop, + +When a Pantheon it seems round him for ever to bring. +Jupiter knits his godlike brow,--her's, Juno up-lifteth; + +Phoebus strides on before, shaking his curly-lock'd head +Calmly and drily Minerva looks down, and Hermes the light one, + +Turneth his glances aside, roguish and tender at once. +But tow'rds Bacchus, the yielding, the dreaming, raiseth Cythere + +Looks both longing and sweet, e'en in the marble yet moist. +Of his embraces she thinks with delight, and seems to be asking + +"Should not our glorious son take up his place by our side?" +----- +AMOR is ever a rogue, and all who believe him are cheated! + +To me the hypocrite came: "Trust me, I pray thee, this once. +Honest is now my intent,--with grateful thanks I acknowledge + +That thou thy life and thy works hast to my worship ordain'd. +See, I have follow'd thee thither, to Rome, with kindly intention, + +Hoping to give thee mine aid, e'en in the foreigner's land. +Every trav'ller complains that the quarters he meets with are wretched + +Happily lodged, though, is he, who is by Amor receiv'd. +Thou dost observe the ruins of ancient buildings with wonder, + +Thoughtfully wandering on, over each time-hallow'd spot. +Thou dost honour still more the worthy relics created + +By the few artists--whom I loved in their studios to seek. +I 'twas fashion'd those forms! thy pardon,--I boast not at present; + +Presently thou shalt confess, that what I tell thee is true. +Now that thou serv'st me more idly, where are the beauteous figures, + +Where are the colours, the light, which thy creations once fill'd? +Hast thou a mind again to form? The school of the Grecians + +Still remains open, my friend; years have not barr'd up its doors. +I, the teacher, am ever young, and love all the youthful, + +Love not the subtle and old; Mother, observe what I say! +Still was new the Antique, when yonder blest ones were living; + +Happily live,--and, in thee, ages long vanish'd will live! +Food for song, where hop'st thou to find it? I only can give it, + +And a more excellent style, love, and love only can teach." +Thus did the Sophist discourse. What mortal, alas! could resist him? + +And when a master commands, I have been train'd to obey. +Now he deceitfully keeps his word, gives food for my numbers, + +But, while he does so, alas! robs me of time, strength, and mind. +Looks, and pressure of hands, and words of kindness, and kisses, + +Syllables teeming with thought, by a fond pair are exchang'd. +Then becomes whispering, talk,--and stamm'ring, a language enchanting; + +Free from all prosody's rules, dies such a hymn on the ear. +Thee, Aurora, I used to own as the friend of the Muses; + +Hath, then, Amor the rogue cheated, Aurora, e'en thee? +Thou dost appear to me now as his friend, and again dost awake me + +Unto a day of delight, while at his altar I kneel. +All her locks I find on my bosom, her head is reposing, + +Pressing with softness the arm, which round her neck is entwin'd; +Oh! what a joyous awak'ning, ye hours so peaceful, succeeded, + +Monument sweet of the bliss which had first rock'd us to sleep +In her slumber she moves, and sinks, while her face is averted, + +Far on the breadth of the couch, leaving her hand still in mine +Heartfelt love unites us for ever, and yearnings unsullied, + +And our cravings alone claim for themselves the exchange. +One faint touch of the hand, and her eyes so heavenly see I + +Once more open. Ah, no! let me still look on that form! +Closed still remain! Ye make me confused and drunken, ye rob me + +Far too soon of the bliss pure contemplation affords. +Mighty, indeed, are these figures! these limbs, how gracefully rounded! + +Theseus, could'st thou e'er fly, whilst Ariadne thus slept? +Only one single kiss on these lips! Oh, Theseus, now leave us! + +Gaze on her eyes! she awakes--Firmly she holds thee embrac'd +----- +PART II. + +ALEXIS AND DORA. + +[This beautiful poem was first published in Schiller's Horen.] + +FARTHER and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel + +Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-cover'd flood! +Long is the track plough'd up by the keel where dolphins are sporting, + +Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit. +All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmness + +Leans 'gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs. +Forward presses the heart of each seamen, like colours and streamers; + +Backward one only is seen, mournfully fix'd near the mast, +While on the blue tinged mountains, which fast are receding, he gazeth, + +And as they sink in the sea, joy from his bosom departs. +Vanish'd from thee, too, oh Dora, is now the vessel that robs thee + +Of thine Alexis, thy friend,--ah, thy betrothed as well! +Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain. Our hearts are still throbbing, + +Though, for each other, yet ah! 'gainst one another no more. +Oh, thou single moment, wherein I found life! thou outweighest + +Every day which had else coldly from memory fled. +'Twas in that moment alone, the last, that upon me descended + +Life, such as deities grant, though thou perceived'st it not. +Phoebus, in vain with thy rays dost thou clothe the ether in glory: + +Thine all-brightening day hateful alone is to me. +Into myself I retreat for shelter, and there, in the silence, + +Strive to recover the time when she appear'd with each day. +Was it possible beauty like this to see, and not feel it? + +Work'd not those heavenly charms e'en on a mind dull as thine? +Blame not thyself, unhappy one! Oft doth the bard an enigma + +Thus propose to the throng, skillfully hidden in words. +Each one enjoys the strange commingling of images graceful, + +Yet still is wanting the word which will discover the sense. +When at length it is found, the heart of each hearer is gladden'd, + +And in the poem he sees meaning of twofold delight. +Wherefore so late didst thou remove the bandage, oh Amor, + +Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,--wherefore remove it so late? +Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favouring breezes, + +'Till in kindness the wind blew from the land o'er the sea. +Vacant times of youth! and vacant dreams of the future! + +Ye all vanish, and nought, saving the moment, remains. +Yes! it remains,--my joy still remains! I hold thee; my Dora, + +And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclos'd. +Oft have I seen thee go, with modesty clad, to the temple, + +While thy mother so dear solemnly went by thy side. +Eager and nimble thou wert, in bearing thy fruit to the market, + +Boldly the pail from the well didst thou sustain on thy head. +Then was reveal'd thy neck, then seen thy shoulders so beauteous, + +Then, before all things, the grace filling thy motions was seen. +Oft have I fear'd that the pitcher perchance was in danger of falling, + +Yet it ever remain'd firm on the circular cloth. +Thus, fair neighbour, yes, thus I oft was wont to observe thee, + +As on the stars I might gaze, as I might gaze on the moon, +Glad indeed at the sight, yet feeling within my calm bosom + +Not the remotest desire ever to call them mine own. +Years thus fleeted away! Although our houses were only + +Twenty paces apart, yet I thy threshold ne'er cross'd. +Now by the fearful flood are we parted! Thou liest to Heaven, + +Billow! thy beautiful blue seems to me dark as the night. +All were now in movement; a boy to the house of my father + +Ran at full speed and exclaim'd: "Hasten thee quick to the strand +Hoisted the sail is already, e'en now in the wind it is flutt'ring, + +While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand; +Come, Alexis, oh come!"--My worthy stout-hearted father + +Press'd, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-lock'd head, +While my mother carefully reach'd me a newly-made bundle, + +"Happy mayst thou return!" cried they--" both happy and rich!" +Then I sprang away, and under my arm held the bundle, + +Running along by the wall. Standing I found thee hard by, +At the door of thy garden. Thou smilingly saidst then "Alexis! + +Say, are yon boisterous crew going thy comrades to be? +Foreign coasts will thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase, + +Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town. +Bring me, also, I praythee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee, + +Oft have I wish'd to possess some stich a trinket as that." +There I remain'd, and ask'd, as merchants are wont, with precision + +After the form and the weight which thy commission should have. +Modest, indeed, was the price thou didst name! I meanwhile was gazing + +On thy neck which deserv'd ornaments worn but by queens. +Loudly now rose the cry from the ship; then kindly thou spakest + +"Take, I entreat thee, some fruit out of the garden, my friend +Take the ripest oranges, figs of the whitest; the ocean + +Beareth no fruit, and, in truth, 'tis not produced by each land." +So I entered in. Thou pluckedst the fruit from the branches, + +And the burden of gold was in thine apron upheld. +Oft did I cry, Enough! But fairer fruits were still falling + +Into the hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch. +Presently didst thou reached the arbour; there lay there a basket, + +Sweet blooming myrtle trees wav'd, as we drew nigh, o'er our heads. +Then thou began'st to arrange the fruit with skill and in silence: + +First the orange, which lay heavy as though 'twere of gold, +Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigur'd, + +And with myrtle the gift soon was both cover'd and grac'd. +But I raised it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together, + +And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscured by a film, +Soon I felt thy bosom on mine! Mine arm was soon twining + +Round thy beautiful form; thousand times kiss'd I thy neck. +On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling, + +Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting the rapturous pair. +Amor's hands I felt: he press'd us together with ardour, + +And, from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears +Stream'd from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were weeping, + +And, 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seem'd to die. +Louder and louder they calI'd from the strand; my feet would no longer + +Bear my weight, and I cried:--"Dora! and art thou not mine?" +"Thine forever!" thou gently didst say. Then the tears we were shedding + +Seem'd to be wiped from our eyes, as by the breath of a god. +Nearer was heard the cry "Alexis!" The stripling who sought me + +Suddenly peep'd through the door. How he the basket snatch'd up! +How he urged me away! how press'd I thy hand! Wouldst thou ask me + +How the vessel I reach'd? Drunken I seem'd, well I know. +Drunken my shipmates believed me, and so had pity upon me; + +And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscur'd. +"Thine for ever!" thou, Dora, didst murmur; it fell on my senses + +With the thunder of Zeus! while by the thunderer's throne +Stood his daughter, the Goddess of Love; the Graces were standing + +Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine! +Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favouring zephyr! + +Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam! +Bring me unto the foreign harbour, so that the goldsmith + +May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge! +Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, oh my Dora! + +Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwin'd +Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets, + +Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand. +There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely + +Be to the jacinth oppos'd, seeming its foil; while the gold +Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled. + +Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betroth'd! +Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me + +Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form. +I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee, + +Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee. +Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring; + +With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight. +Fine and woollen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple, + +Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest; +Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest + +Me, and thyself, and, perchance, even a third with it too. +Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly Immortals, + +Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast! +Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments. + +When, in their stead, care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm. +Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of hell with their harking + +Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair, +As by the motionless spectre I'm awed, that shows me the fair one + +Far away: of a truth, open the garden-door stands! +And another one cometh! For him the fruit, too, is falling, + +And for him, also, the fig strengthening honey doth yield! +Doth she entice him as well to the arbour? He follows? Oh, make me + +Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind! +Yes, she is but a maiden! And she who to one doth so quickly + +Yield, to another ere long, doubtless, Will turn herself round. +Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken! + +Thunder more fearfully! Strike!--Stay--thy fierce lightnings withhold! +Hurl at me thy quivering bolt! In the darkness of midnight + +Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck! +Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows + +All these wares, and let me be to the dolphins a prey +Now, ye Muses, enough! In vain would ye strive to depicture + +How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss. +Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted; + +Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm. + + 1796. +----- +HERMANN AND DOROTHEA. + +IN NINE CANTOS. +----- +I. KALLIOPE. + +FATE AND SYMPATHY. + +"NE'ER have I seen the market and streets so thoroughly empty! +Still as the grave is the town, clear'd out! I verily fancy +Fifty at most of all our inhabitants still may be found there. +People are so inquisitive! All are running and racing +Merely to see the sad train of poor fellows driven to exile. +Down to the causeway now building, the distance nearly a league is, +And they thitherward rush, in the heat and the dust of the noonday. +As for me, I had rather not stir from my place just to stare at +Worthy and sorrowful fugitives, who, with what goods they can carry, +Leaving their own fair land on the further side of the Rhine-stream, +Over to us are crossing, and wander through the delightful +Nooks of this fruitful vale, with all its twistings and windings. +Wife, you did right well to bid our son go and meet them, +Taking with him old linen, and something to eat and to drink too, +Just to give to the poor; the rich are bound to befriend them. +How he is driving along! How well he holds in the horses! +Then the new little carriage looks very handsome; inside it +Four can easily sit, besides the one on the coachbox. +This time he is alone; how easily-turns it the corner!" +Thus to his wife the host of the Golden Lion discoursed, +Sitting at ease in the porch of his house adjoining the market. +Then replied as follows the shrewd and sensible hostess +"Father, I don't like giving old linen away, for I find it +Useful in so many ways, 'tis not to he purchased for money +Just when it's wanted. And yet to-day I gladly have given +Many excellent articles, shirts and covers and suchlike; +For I have heard of old people and children walking half-naked. +Will you forgive me, too, for having ransacked your presses? +That grand dressing-gown, cover'd with Indian flowers all over, +Made of the finest calico, lined with excellent flannel, +I have despatch'd with the rest; 'tis thin, old, quite out of fashion." + +But the worthy landlord only smiled, and then answer'd +I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment, +Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer. +Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward +Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket, +Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!" + +"See," continued his wife, "a few are already returning +Who have seen the procession, which long ago must have pass'd by. +See how dusty their shoes are, and how their faces are glowing +Each one carries a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his forehead. +I, for one, wouldn't hurry and worry myself in such weather +Merely to see such a sight! I'm certain to hear all about it." + +And the worthy father, speaking with emphasis, added +"Such fine weather seldom lasts through the whole of the harvest +And we're bringing the fruit home, just as the hay we brought lately, +Perfectly dry; the sky is clear, no cloud's in the heavens, +And the whole day long delicious breezes are blowing. +Splendid weather I call it! The corn already too ripe is, +And to-morrow begin we to gather the plentiful harvest." + +Whilst he was thus discoursing, the number of men and of women +Crossing the market and going towards home kept ever increasing; +And there return'd amongst others, bringing with him his daughters, +On the other side of the market, their prosperous neighbour, +Going full speed to his newbuilt house, the principal merchant, +Riding inside an open carriage (in Landau constructed). +All the streets were alive; for the town, though small, was well peopled, +Many a factory throve there, and many a business also. + +Long sat the excellent couple under the doorway, exchanging +Many a passing remark on the people who happen'd to pass them. +Presently thus to her husband exclaim'd the good-natured hostess +"See! Yon comes the minister; with him is walking the druggist: +They'll be able to give an account of all that has happen'd, +What they witness'd, and many a sight I fear which was painful." + +Both of them came in a friendly manner, and greeted the couple, +Taking their seats on the wooden benches under the doorway, +Shaking the dust from their feet, their handkerchiefs using to fan them. +Presently, after exchanging reciprocal greetings, the druggist +Open'd his mouth, and almost peevishly vented his feelings +"What strange creatures men are! They all resemble each other, +All take pleasure in staring, when troubles fall on their neighbours. +Ev'ry one runs to see the flames destroying a dwelling, +Or a poor criminal led in terror and shame to the scaffold. +All the town has been out to gaze at the sorrowing exiles, +None of them bearing in mind that a like misfortune hereafter, +Possibly almost directly, may happen to be their own portion. +I can't pardon such levity; yet 'tis the nature of all men." +Thereupon rejoin'd the noble and excellent pastor, +He, the charm of the town, in age scarce more than a stripling:-- +(He was acquainted with life, and knew the wants of his hearers, +Fully convinced of the worth of the Holy Scriptures, whose mission +Is to reveal man's fate, his inclinations to fathom; +He was also well read in the best of secular writings.) +"I don't like to find fault with any innocent impulse +Which in the mind of man Dame Nature has ever implanted; +For what reason and intellect ne'er could accomplish, is often +Done by some fortunate, quite irresistible instinct within him. +If mankind were never by curiosity driven, +Say, could they e'er have found out for themselves the wonderful manner +Things in the world range in order? For first they Novelty look for, +Then with untiring industry seek to discover the Useful, +Lastly they yearn for the Good, which makes them noble and worthy. +All through their youth frivolity serves as their joyous companion, +Hiding the presence of danger, and. swiftly effacing the traces +Caused by misfortune and grief, as soon as their onslaught is over. +Truly the man's to be praised who, as years roll onward, develops +Out of such glad disposition an intellect settled and steady,-- +Who, in good fortune as well as misfortune, strives zealously, nobly; +For what is Good he brings forth, replacing whatever is injured." +Then in a friendly voice impatiently spoke thus the hostess:-- +"Tell us what have you seen; I am eagerly longing to hear it." + +Then with emphasis answer'd the druggist:--" The terrible stories +Told me to-day will serve for a long time to make me unhappy. +Words would fail to describe the manifold pictures of mis'ry. +Far in the distance saw we the dust, before we descended +Down to the meadows; the rising hillocks hid the procession +Long from our eyes, and little could we distinguish about it. +When, however, we reach'd the road that winds thro' the valley, +Great was the crowd and the noise of the emigrants mix'd with the waggons. +We unhappily saw poor fellows passing in numbers, +Some of them showing how bitter the sense of their sorrowful flight was, +Some with a feeling of joy at saving their lives in a hurry. +Sad was the sight of the manifold goods and chattels pertaining +Unto a well-managed house, which the careful owner's accustom'd +Each in its proper position to place, and in regular order, +Always ready for use, for all are wanted and useful.-- +Sad was the sight of them now, on many a waggon and barrow +Heap'd in thorough confusion, and hurriedly huddled together. +Over a cupboard was placed a sieve and a coverlet woollen; +Beds in the kneeding troughs lay, and linen over the glasses. +Ah! and the danger appear'd to rob the men of their senses, +Just as in our great fire of twenty years ago happen'd, +When what was worthless they saved, and left all the best things behind them. +So on the present occasion with heedless caution they carried +Many valueless chattels, o'erlading the cattle and horses,-- +Common old boards and barrels, a birdcage next to a goosepen. +Women and children were gasping beneath the weight of their bundles, +Baskets and tubs full of utterly useless articles, bearing. +(Man is always unwilling the least of his goods to abandon.) +Thus on its dusty way advanced the crowded procession, +All in hopeless confusion. First one, whose cattle were weaker, +Fain would slowly advance, while others would eagerly hasten. +Then there arose a scream of half-crush'd women and children, +And a lowing of cattle, with yelping of dogs intermingled, +And a wailing of aged and sick, all sitting and shaking, +Ranged in their beds on the top of the waggon too-heavily laden. +Next some lumbering wheel, push'd out of the track by the pressure, +Went to the edge of the roadway; the vehicle fell in the ditch then, +Rolling right over, and throwing, in falling, the men who were in it +Far in the field, screaming loudly, their persons however uninjured. +Then the boxes roll'd off and tumbled close to the waggon. +Those who saw them failing full surely expected to see them +Smash'd to pieces beneath the weight of the chests and the presses. +So the waggon lay broken, and those that it carried were helpless, +For the rest of the train went on, and hurriedly pass'd them, +Thinking only of self, and carried away by the current. +So we sped to the spot, and found the sick and the aged +Who, when at home and in bed, could scarcely endure their sad ailments, +Lying there on the ground, all sighing and groaning in anguish, +Stifled by clouds of dust, and scorch'd by the fierce sun of summer. + +Then replied in tones of compassion the sensitive landlord +Hermann I trust will find them and give them refreshment and clothing. +I should unwillingly see them: I grieve at the eight of such sorrow. +Touch'd by the earliest news of the sad extent of the suffering, +Hastily sent we a trifle from out of our superabundance, +Just to comfort a few, and then our minds were more easy. +Now let us cease to discourse on such a sorrowful subject, +For men's hearts are easily overshadow'd by terror, +And by care, more odious far to me than misfortune. +Now let us go to a cooler place, the little back-parlour; +There the sun never shines, and the walls are so thick that the hot air +Never can enter; and mother shall forthwith bring us a glass each +Full of fine Eighty-three, well fitted to drive away trouble. +This is a bad place for drinking; the flies will hum round the glasses." +So they all went inside, enjoying themselves in the coolness. +Then in a well-cut flask the mother carefully brought them +Some of that clear good wine, upon a bright metal waiter +With those greenish rummers, the fittingest goblets for Rhine wine. +So the three sat together, around the glistening polish'd +Circular large brown table-Äon massive feet it was planted. +Merrily clink'd together the glasses of host and of pastor, +But the other one thoughtfully held his glass without moving, +And in friendly fashion the host thus ask'd him to join them:-- + +"Drink, good neighbour, I pray! A merciful God has protected +Us in the past from misfortune, and will protect us in future. +All must confess that since He thought fit to severely chastise us, +When that terrible fire occurr'd, He has constantly bless'd us. +And watch'd over us constantly, just as man is accustom'd +His eye's precious apple to guard, that dearest of members. +Shall He not for the future preserve us, and be our Protector? +For 'tis in danger we learn to appreciate duly His Goodness. +This so flourishing town, which He built again from its ashes +By the industrious hands of its burghers, and bless'd it so richly, +Will He again destroy it, and render their toil unavailing?" + +Cheerfully answer'd the excellent pastor, in accents of mildness +"Steadfastly cling to this faith, and cherish such worthy opinions; +In good fortune they'll make you prudent, and then in misfortune +Well-grounded hopes they'll supply, and furnish you true consolation." + +Then continued the host, with thoughts full of manhood and wisdom +"Oft have I greeted with wonder the rolling flood of the Rhine stream, +When, on my business trav'lling, I've once more come to its borders. +Grand has it ever appear'd, exalting my feelings and senses; +But I could never imagine that soon its beautiful margin +Into a wall would be turn'd, to keep the French from our country, +And its wide-spreading bed a ditch to hinder and check them. +So by Nature we're guarded, we're guarded by valorous Germans, +And by the Lord we're guarded; who then would foolishly tremble? +Weary the combatants are, and all things indicate peace soon; +And when at length the long-expected festival's holden +Here in our church, and the bells chime in with the organ in chorus, +And the trumpets are blowing, the noble Te Deum upraising, +Then on that selfsame day I fain would see, my good pastor, +Our dear Hermann kneel with his bride at the altar before you, +And the glad festival held through the length and breadth of the country +Will henceforward to me be a glad anniversary also! +But I am grieved to observe that the youth, who is always so active +When he is here at home, abroad is so slow and so timid. +Little at any time cares he to mix with the rest of the people; +Yes, he even avoids young maidens' society ever, +And the frolicsome dance, that great delight of young people." + +Thus he spake, and then listen'd. The sound of the stamping of horses +Drawing nearer was heard; and then the roll of the carriage, +Which, with impetuous speed, now thunder'd under the gateway. +----- +II. TERPSICHORE. + +HERMANN. + +THEN when into the room the well-built son made his entry, +Straightway with piercing glances the minister eyed him intently, +And with carefulness watch'd his looks and the whole of his bearing, +With an inquiring eye which easily faces decyphers; +Then he smiled, and with cordial words address'd him as follows +"How you are changed in appearance, my friend! I never have seen you +Half so lively before; your looks are thoroughly cheerful. +You have return'd quite joyous and merry. You've doubtless divided +All of the presents amongst the poor, their blessings receiving." + +Then in calm accents replied the son, with gravity speaking +"Whether I've laudably acted, I know not; I follow'd the impulse +Of my own heart, as now I'll proceed to describe with exactness. +Mother, you rummaged so long, in looking over old pieces, +And in making your choice, that 'twas late when the bundle was ready, +And the wine and the beer were slowly and carefully pack'd up. +When I at length emerged at the gate, and came on the highway, +Streams of citizens met I returning, with women and children, +For the train of the exiles had long disappear'd in the distance. +So I quicken'd my pace, and hastily drove to the village +Where I had heard that to-night to rest and to sleep they intended. +Well, as I went on my way, the newly-made causeway ascending, +Suddenly saw I a waggon, of excellent timber constructed, +Drawn by a couple of oxen, the best and the strongest of foreign. +Close beside it there walk'd, with sturdy footsteps, a maiden, +Guiding the two strong beasts with a long kind of staff, which with skill she +Knew how to use, now driving, and now restraining their progress. +When the maiden observed me, she quietly came near the horses, +And address'd me as follows:--'Our usual condition, believe me, +Is not so sad as perchance you might judge from our present appearance. +I am not yet accustom'd to ask for alms from a stranger, +Who so often but gives, to rid himself of a beggar. +But I'm compell'd to speak by necessity. Here on the straw now +Lies the lately-confined poor wife of a wealthy landowner, +Whom with much trouble I managed to save with oxen and waggon. +We were late in arriving, and scarcely with life she escaped. +Now the newly-born child in her arms is lying, all naked, +And our friends will be able to give them but little assistance, +E'en if in the next village, to which to-night we are going, +We should still find them, although I fear they have left it already. +If you belong to the neighbourhood, any available linen +These poor people will deem a most acceptable present. + +"Thus she spake, and wearily raised herself the pale patient +Up from the straw and gazed upon me, while thus I made answer +'Oft doth a heavenly spirit whisper to kind-hearted people, +So that they feel the distress o'er their poorer brethren impending; +For my mother, your troubles foreboding, gave me a bundle +Ready prepared for relieving the wants of those who were naked.' +Then I loosen'd the knots of the cord, and the dressing-gown gave her +Which belong'd to my father, and gave her some shirts and some linen, +And she thank'd me with joy and said:--'The fortunate know not +How 'tis that miracles happen; we only discover in sorrow +God's protecting finger and hand, extended to beckon +Good men to good. May your kindness to us by Him be requited.' +And I saw the poor patient joyfully handling the linen, +Valuing most of all the soft flannel, the dressing-gown lining. +Then the maid thus address'd her:--'Now let us haste to the village +Where our friends are resting, to-night intending to sleep there +There I will straightway attend to what e'er for the infant is needed.' +Then she saluted me too, her thanks most heartily giving, +Drove the oxen, the waggon went on. I lingerd behind them, +Holding my horses rein'd back, divided between two opinions, +Whether to hasten ahead, reach the village, the viands distribute +'Mongst the rest of the people, or give them forthwith to the maiden, +So that she might herself divide them amongst them with prudence +Soon I made up my mind, and follow'd after her softly, +Overtook her without delay, and said to her quickly +'Maiden, it was not linen alone that my mother provided +And in the carriage placed, as clothing to give to the naked, +But she added meat, and many an excellent drink too; +And I have got quite a stock stow'd away in the boot of the carriage. +Well, I have taken a fancy the rest of the gifts to deposit +In your hands, and thus fulfil to the best my commission; +You will divide them with prudence, whilst I my fate am obeying.' +Then the maiden replied:--'With faithfulness I will distribute +All your gifts, and the needy shall surely rejoice at your bounty.' +Thus she spake, and I hastily open'd the boot of the carriage, +Took out the hams (full heavy they were) and took out the bread-stuffs, +Flasks of wine and beer, and handed the whole of them over. +Gladly would I have given her more, but empty the boot was. +Straightway she pack'd them away at the feet of the patient, and forthwith +Started again, whilst I hasten'd back to the town with my horses." + +Then when Hermann had ended his story, the garrulous neighbour +Open'd his mouth and exclaim'd:--"I only deem the man happy +Who lives alone in his house in these days of flight and confusion, +Who has neither wife nor children cringing beside him +I feel happy at present; I hate the title of father; +Care of children and wife in these days would be a sad drawback. +Often have I bethought me of flight, and have gather'd together +All that I deem most precious, the antique gold and the jewels +Worn by my late dear mother, not one of which has been sold yet. +Much indeed is left out, that is not so easily carried. +Even the herbs and the roots, collected with plenty of trouble, +I should he sorry to lose, though little in value they may be. +If the dispenser remains, I shall leave my house in good spirits +If my ready money is saved, and my body, why truly +All is saved, for a bachelor easily flies when 'tis needed." + +"Neighbour," rejoin'd forthwith young Hermann, with emphasis speaking +"Altogether I differ, and greatly blame your opinions. +Can that man be deem'd worthy, who both in good and ill fortune +Thinks alone of himself, and knows not the secret of sharing +Sorrows and joys with others, and feels no longing to do so? +I could more easily now than before determine to marry +Many an excellent maiden needs a husband's protection, +Many a man a cheerful wife, when sorrow's before him." +Smilingly said then the father:--"I'm pleas'd to hear what you're saying, +Words of such wisdom have seldom been utter'd by you in my presence. + +Then his good mother broke in, in her turn, with vivacity speaking +"Son, you are certainly right. We parents set the example. +'Twas not in time of pleasure that we made choice of each other, +And 'twas the saddest of hours, that knitted us closely together. +Monday morning,--how well I remember! the very day after +That most terrible fire occurr'd which burnt down the borough, +Twenty years ago now; the day, like to-day, was a Sunday, +Hot and dry was the weather, and little available water. +All the inhabitants, clothed in their festival garments, were walking, +Scatter'd about in the inns and the mills of the neighbouring hamlets. +At one end of the town the fire broke out, and the flames ran +Hastily all through the streets, impell'd by the draught they created. +And the barns were consumed, where all the rich harvest was gather'd +And all the streets as far as the market; the dwelling house also +Of my father hard by was destroy'd, as likewise was this one. +Little indeed could we save; I sat the sorrowful night through +On the green of the town, protecting the beds and the boxes. +Finally sleep overtook me, and when by the cool breeze of morning +Which dies away when the sun arises I was awaken'd, +Saw I the smoke and the glow, and the half-consumed walls and the chimneys. +Then my heart was sorely afflicted; but soon in his glory +Rose the sun more brilliant than ever, my spirits reviving. +Then in haste I arose, impell'd the site to revisit +Where our dwelling had stood, to see if the chickens were living +Which I especially loved; for childlike I still was by nature. +But when over the ruins of courtyard and house I was climbing, +Which still smoked, and saw my dwelling destroy'd and deserted, +You came up on the other side, the ruins exploring. +You had a horse shut up in his stall; the still-glowing rafters +Over it lay, and rubbish, and nought could be seen of the creature. +Over against each other we stood, in doubt and in sorrow, +For the wall had fallen which used to sever our courtyards; +And you grasp'd my hand, addressing me softly as follows +'Lizzy, what here are you doing? Away! Your soles you are burning, +For the rubbish is hot, and is scorching my boots which are thicker.' +Then you lifted me up, and carried me off through your courtyard. +There still stood the gateway before the house, with its arch'd roof, +Just as it now is standing, the only thing left remaining. +And you sat me down and kiss'd me, and I tried to stop you, +But you presently said, with kindly words full of meaning +'See, my house is destroy'd! Stop here and help me to build it, +I in return will help to rebuild the house of your father.' +I understood you not, till you sent to my father your mother, +And ere long our marriage fulfilid the troth we soon plighted. +Still to this day I remember with pleasure the half-consumed rafters, +Still do I see the sun in all his majesty rising, +For on that day I gain'd my husband; the son of my youth too +Gained I during that earliest time of the wild desolation. +Therefore commend I you, Hermann, for having with confidence guileless +Turn'd towards marriage your thoughts in such a period of mourning, +And for daring to woo in war and over the ruins.--" + +Then the father straightway replied, with eagerness speaking:-- +"Sensible is your opinion, and true is also the story +Which you have told us, good mother, for so did ev'rything happen. +But what is better is better. 'Tis not the fortune of all men +All their life and existence to find decided beforehand; +All are not doom'd to such troubles as we and others have suffer'd. +O, how happy is he whose careful father and mother +Have a house ready to give him, which he can successfully manage! +All beginnings are hard, and most so the landlords profession. +Numberless things a man must have, and ev'rything daily +Dearer becomes, so he needs to scrape together more money. +So I am hoping that you, dear Hermann, will shortly be bringing +Home to us a bride possessing an excellent dowry, +For a worthy husband deserves a girl who is wealthy, +And 'tis a capital thing for the wish'd-for wife to bring with her +Plenty of suitable articles stow'd in her baskets and boxes. +Not in vain for years does the mother prepare for her daughter +Stocks of all kinds of linen, both finest and strongest in texture; +Not in vain do god-parents give them presents of silver, +Or the father lay by in his desk a few pieces of money. +For she hereafter will gladden, with all her goods and possessions, +That happy youth who is destined from out of all others to choose her. +Yes! I know how pleasant it makes a house for a young wife, +When she finds her own property placed in the rooms and the kitchen, +And when she herself has cover'd the bed and the table. +Only well-to-do brides should be seen in a house, I consider, +For a poor one is sure at last to be scorn'd by her husband, +And he'll deem her a jade who as jade first appear'd with her bundle. +Men are always unjust, but moments of love are but transient. +Yes, my Hermann, you greatly would cheer the old age of your father +If you soon would bring home a daughter-in-law to console me, +Out of the neighbourhood too,--yes, out of yon dwelling, the green one! +Rich is the man, in truth his trade and his manufactures +Make him daily richer, for when does a merchant not prosper? +He has only three daughters; the whole of his wealth they'll inherit. +True the eldest's already engaged; but then there's the second, +And the third, who still (not for long) may be had for the asking. +Had I been in your place, I should not till this time have waited; +Bring home one of the girls, as I brought your mother before you. + +Then, with modesty, answer'd the son his impetuous father +"Truly my wish was, like yours, to marry one of the daughters +Of our neighbour. We all, in fact, were brought up together, +Sported in youthful days near the fountain adjoining the market, +And from the rudeness of boys I often managed to save them. +But those days have long pass'd the maidens grew up, and with reason +Stop now at home and avoid the rougher pastimes of childhood. +Well brought up with a vengeance they are! To please you, I sometimes +Went to visit them, just for the sake of olden acquaintance +But I was never much pleased at holding intercourse with them, +For they were always finding fault, and I had to bear it +First my coat was too long, the cloth too coarse, and the colour +Far too common, my hair was cut and curl'd very badly. +I at last was thinking of dressing myself like the shop-boys, +Who are accustom'd on Sundays to show off their persons up yonder, +And round whose coats in summer half-silken tatters are hanging. +But ere long I discover'd they only intended to fool me +This was very annoying, my pride was offended, but more still +Felt I deeply wounded that they so mistook the good feelings +Which I cherish'd towards them, especially Minnie, the youngest. +Well, I went last Easter, politely to pay them a visit, +And I wore the new coat now hanging up in the closet, +And was frizzled and curld, like all the rest of the youngsters. +When I enter'd, they titter'd; but that didn't very much matter. +Minnie sat at the piano, the father was present amongst them, +Pleased with his daughter's singing, and quite in a jocular humour. +Little could I understand of the words in the song she was singing, +But I constantly heard of Pamina, and then of Tamino,* + + (* Characters In Mozart's Zauberflote.) +And I fain would express my opinion; so when she had ended, +I ask'd questions respecting the text, and who were the persons. +All were silent and smiled; but presently answer'd the father +'Did you e'er happen, my friend, to hear of Eve or of Adam?' +Then no longer restrain'd they themselves, the girls burst out laughing, +All the boys laugh'd loudly, the old man's sides appear'd splitting. +In my confusion I let my hat fall down, and the titt'ring +Lasted all the time the singing and playing continued. +Then I hasten'd home, ashamed and full of vexation, +Hung up my coat in the closet, and put my hair in disorder +With my fingers, and swore ne'er again to cross o'er their threshold. +And I'm sure I was right; for they are all vain and unloving. +And I hear they're so rude as to give me the nickname Tamino." +Then the mother rejoin'd:--"You're wrong, dear Hermann, to harbour +Angry feelings against the children, for they are but children. +Minnie's an excellent girl, and has a tenderness for you; +Lately she ask'd how you were. Indeed, I wish you would choose her!" + +Then the son thoughtfully answer'd:--"I know not why, but the fact is +My annoyance has graven itself in my mind, and hereafter +I could not bear at the piano to see her, or list to her singing." + +But the father sprang up, and said, in words full of anger +"Little comfort you give me, in truth! I always have said it, +When you took pleasure in horses, and cared for nothing but fieldwork; +That which the servants of prosperous people perform as their duty, +You yourself do; meanwhile the father his son must dispense with, +Who in his honour was wont to court the rest of the townsfolk. +Thus with empty hopes your mother early deceived me, +When your reading, and writing, and learning at school ne'er succeeded +Like the rest of the boys, and so you were always the lowest. +This all comes from a youth not possessing a due sense of honour, +And not having the spirit to try and raise his position. +Had my father but cared for me, as I have for you, sir, +Sent me to school betimes, and given me proper instructors, +I should not merely have been the host of the famed Golden Lion." + +But the son arose, and approach'd the doorway in silence, +Slowly, and making no noise: but then the father in dudgeon +After him shouted:--"Be off! I know you're an obstinate fellow! +Go and look after the business; else I shall scold you severely; +But don't fancy I'll ever allow you to bring home in triumph +As my daughter-in-law any boorish impudent hussy. +Long have I lived in the world, and know how to manage most people, +Know how to entertain ladies and gentlemen, so that they leave me +In good humour, and know how to flatter a stranger discreetly. +But my daughter-in-law must have useful qualities also, +And be able to soften my manifold cares and vexations. +She must also play on the piano, that all the best people +Here in the town may take pleasure in often coming to see us, +As in the house of our neighbour the merchant happens each Sunday." +Softly the son at these words raised the latch, and left the apartment. +----- +III. THALIA. + +THE BURGHERS. + +THUS did the prudent son escape from the hot conversation, +But the father continued precisely as he had begun it +What is not in a man can never come out of him, surely! +Never, I fear, shall I see fulfill'd my dearest of wishes, +That my son should be unlike his father, but better. +What would be the fate of a house or a town, if its inmates +Did not all take pride in preserving, renewing, improving, +As we are taught by the age, and by the wisdom of strangers? +Man is not born to spring out of the ground, just like a mere mushroom, +And to rot away soon in the very place that produced him! +Leaving behind him no trace of what he has done in his lifetime. +One can judge by the look of a house of the taste of its master, +As on ent'ring a town, one can judge the authorities' fitness. +For where the towers and walls are falling, where in the ditches +Dirt is collected, and dirt in every street is seen lying, +Where the stones come out of their groove, and are not replaced there, +Where the beams are rotting, and vainly the houses are waiting +New supports; that town is sure to be wretchedly managed. +For where order and cleanliness reign not supreme in high places, +Then to dirt and delay the citizens soon get accustom'd, +Just as the beggar's accustom'd to wear his cloths full of tatters. +Therefore I often have wish'd that Hermann would start on his travels +Ere he's much older, and visit at any rate Strasburg and Frankfort, +And that pleasant town, Mannheim, so evenly built and so cheerful. +He who has seen such large and cleanly cities rests never +Till his own native town, however small, he sees better'd. +Do not all strangers who visit us praise our well-mended gateways, +And the well-whited tower, the church so neatly repair'd too? +Do not all praise our pavements? Our well-arranged cover'd-in conduits, +Always well furnish'd with water, utility blending with safety, +So that a fire, whenever it happens, is straightway extinguish'd,-- +Is not this the result of that conflagration so dreadful? +Six times in Council I superintended the town's works, receiving +Hearty thanks and assistance from every well-disposed burgher. +How I design'd, follow'd up, and ensured the completion of measures +Worthy men had projected, and afterwards left all unfinish'd! +Finally, every man in the Council took pleasure in working. +All put forth their exertions, and now they have finally settled +That new highway to make, which will join our town with the main road. +But I am greatly afraid that the young generation won't act thus; +Some on the one hand think only of pleasure and trumpery dresses, +Others wont stir out of doors, and pass all their time by the fireside, +And our Hermann, I fear, will always be one of this last sort." + +Forthwith to him replied the excellent sensible mother +"Father, you're always unjust whenever you speak of your son, and +That is the least likely way to obtain your wishes' fulfillment, +For we cannot fashion our children after our fancy. +We must have them and love them, as God has given them to us, +Bring them up for the best, and let each do as he listeth. +One has one kind of gift, another possesses another, +Each one employs them, and each in turn in his separate fashion +Good and happy becomes. My Hermann shall not be upbraided, +For I know that he well deserves the wealth he'll inherit; +He'll be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and peasants, +And, as I clearly foresee, by no means the last in the Council. +But with your blame and reproaches, you daily dishearten him sadly, +As you have done just now, and make the poor fellow unhappy." + +Then she left the apartment, and after her son hasten'd quickly, +Hoping somewhere to find him, and with her words of affection +Gladden his heart, for he, the excellent son, well deserved it. +Smilingly, when she had closed the door, continued the father +"What a wonderful race of people are women and children. +All of them fain would do whatever pleases their fancy, +And we're only alow'd to praise them and flatter them freely. +Once for all there's truth in the ancient proverb which tells us: +He who moves not forward, goes backward! a capital saying!" + +Speaking with much circumspection, the druggist made answer as follows +"What you say, good neighbour, is certainly true, and my plan is +Always to think of improvement, provided tho' new, 'tis not costly. +But what avails it in truth, unless one has plenty of money, +Active and fussy to he, improving both inside and outside? +Sadly confined are the means of a burgher; e'en when he knows it, +Little that's good he is able to do, his purse is too narrow, +And the sum wanted too great; and so he is always prevented. +I have had plenty of schemes! but then I was terribly frighten'd +At the expense, especially during a time of such danger. +Long had my house smiled upon me, decked out in modish exterior, +Long had my windows with large panes of glass resplendently glitterd. +Who can compete with a merchant, however, who, rolling in riches, +Also knows the manner in which what is best can be purchased? +Only look at the house up yonder, the new one: how handsome +Looks the stucco of those white scrolls on the green-colour'd panels! +Large are the plates of the windows--how shining and brilliant the panes are, +Quite eclipsing the rest of the houses that stand in the market! +Yet at the time of the fire, our two were by far the most handsome, +Mine at the sign of the Angel, and yours at the old Golden Lion. +Then my garden was famous throughout the whole country, and strangers +Used to stop as they pass'd and peep through my red-colourd palings +At my beggars of stone, and at my dwarfs, which were painted, +He to whom I gave coffee inside my beautiful grotto, +Which, alas! is now cover'd with dust and tumbling to pieces, +Used to rejoice in the colour'd glimmering light of the mussels, +Ranged in natural order around it, and connoisseurs even +Used with dazzled eyes to gaze at the spars and the coral. +Then, in the drawing-room, people look'd with delight on the painting, +Where the prim ladies and gentlemen walked in the garden demurely, +And with pointed fingers presented the flowers, and held them. +Ah, if only such things were now to be seen! Little care I +Now to go out; for everything needs to be alter'd and tasteful, +As it is call'd; and white are the benches of wood and the palings; +All things are simple and plain; and neither carving not gilding +Now are employ'd, and foreign timber is now all the fashion. +I should be only too pleased to possess some novelty also, +So as to march with the times, and my household furniture alter. +But we all are afraid to make the least alteration, +For who is able to pay the present charges of workmen? +Lately a fancy possess'd me, the angel Michael, whose figure +Hangs up over my shop, to treat to a new coat of gilding, +And the terrible Dragon, who round his feet is entwining; +But I have left him all brown; as he is; for the cost quite alarm'd me." +----- +IV. EUTERPE. + +MOTHER AND SON. + +THUS the men discoursed together; and meanwhile the mother +Went in search of her son,--at first in front of the dwelling +On the bench of stone, for he was accustom'd to sit there. +When she found him not there, she went to look in the stable, +Thinking perchance he was feeding his splendid horses, the stallions +Which he had bought when foals, and which he entrusted to no one. +But the servant inform'd her that he had gone to the garden. +Then she nimbly strode across the long double courtyard, +Left the stables behind, and the barns all made of good timber, +Enter'd the garden which stretch'd far away to the walls of the borough, +Walk'd across it, rejoicing to see how all things were growing, +Carefully straighten'd the props, on which the apple-tree's branches, +Heavily loaded, reposed, and the weighty boughs of the pear-tree, +Took a few caterpillars from off the strong-sprouting cabbage; +For a bustling woman is never idle one moment. +In this manner she came to the end of the long-reaching garden, +Where was the arbour all cover'd with woodbine: she found not her son there, +Nor was he to be seen in any part of the garden. +But she found on the latch the door which out of the arbour +Through the wall of the town had been made by special permission +During their ancestor's time, the worthy old burgomaster. +So she easily stepp'd across the dry ditch at the spot where +On the highway abutted their well-inclosed excellent vineyard. +Rising steeply upwards, its face tow'rd the sun turn'd directly. +Up the hill she proceeded, rejoicing, as farther she mounted, +At the size of the grapes, which scarcely were hid by the foliage. +Shady and well-cover'd in, the middle walk at the top was, +Which was ascended by steps of rough flat pieces constructed. +And within it were hanging fine chasselas and muscatels also, +And a reddish-blue grape, of quite an exceptional bigness, +All with carefulness planted, to give to their guests after dinner. +But with separate stems the rest of the vineyard was planted, +Smaller grapes producing, from which the finest wine made is. +So she constantly mounted, enjoying in prospect the autumn. +And the festal day, when the neighbourhood met with rejoicing, +Picking and treading the grapes, and putting the must in the wine-vats, +Every corner and nook resounding at night with the fireworks, +Blazing and cracking away, due honour to pay to the harvest. +But she uneasy became, when she in vain had been calling +Twice and three times her son, and when the sole answer that reach'd her +Came from the garrulous echo which out of the town towers issued. +Strange it appear'd to have to seek him; he never went far off, +(As he before had told her) in order to ward off all sorrow +From his dear mother, and her forebodings of coming disaster. +But she still was expecting upon the highway to find him, +For the doors at the bottom, like those at the top, of the vineyard +Stood wide open; and so at length she enter'd the broad field +Which, with its spreading expanse, o'er the whole of the hill's back extended. +On their own property still she proceeded, greatly rejoicing +At their own crops, and at the corn which nodded so bravely, +Over the whole field in golden majesty waving. +Then on the border between the fields she follow'd the footpath, +Keeping her eye on the pear-tree fix'd, the big one, which standing +Perch'd by itself on the top of the hill, their property bounded. +Who had planted it, no one knew; throughout the whole country +Far and wide was it visible; noted also its fruit was. +Under its shadow the reaper ate his dinner at noonday, +And the herdsman was wont to lie, when tending his cattle. +Benches made of rough stones and of turf were placed all about it. +And she was not mistaken; there sat her Hermann and rested +On his arm he was leaning, and seem'd to be looking cross country +Tow'rds the mountains beyond; his back was turn'd to his mother. +Softly creeping up, she lightly tapp'd on his shoulder; +And he hastily turn'd; she saw that his eyes full of tears were. + +"Mother," he said in confusion:--"You greatly surprise me!" and quickly +Wiped he away his tears, the noble and sensitive youngster. +"What! You are weeping, my son?" the startled mother continued +"That is indeed unlike you! I never before saw you crying! +Say, what has sadden'd your heart? What drives you to sit here all lonely +Under the shade of the pear-tree? What is it that makes you unhappy?" + +Then the excellent youth collected himself, and made answer +"Truly that man can have no heart, but a bosom of iron, +Who no sympathy feels for the wants of unfortunate exiles; +He has no sense in his head who, in times of such deep tribulation, +Has no concern for himself or for his country's well-being. +What I to-day have seen and heard, has stirr'd up my feelings; +Well, I have come up here, and seen the beautiful, spreading +Landscape, which in fruitful hills to our sight is presented, +Seen the golden fruit of the sheaves all nodding together, +And a plentiful crop of fruit, full garners foreboding. +But, alas, how near is the foe! By the Rhine's flowing waters +We are protected indeed; but what are rivers and mountains +To such a terrible nation, which hurries along like a tempest! +For they summon together the young and the old from all quarters, +Rushing wildly along, while the multitude little is caring +Even for death; when one falls, his place is straight fill'd by another, +Ah! and can Germans dare to remain at home in their dwellings, +Thinking perchance to escape from the widely-threat'ning disaster? +Dearest mother, I tell you that I to-day am quite sorry +That I was lately excused, when they selected the fighters +Out of the townfolk. 'Tis true I'm an only son, and more-over +Large is our inn, and our business also is very important; +Were it not better however for me to fight in the vanguard +On the frontier, than here to await disaster and bondage? +Yes, my spirit has told me, and in my innermost bosom +Feel I courage and longing to live and die for my country, +And to others to set an example worthy to follow. +Oh, of a truth, if the strength of the German youths was collected +On the frontier, all bound by a vow not to yield to the stranger, +He on our noble soil should never set foot, or be able +Under our eyes to consume the fruits of the land, or to issue +Orders unto our men, or despoil our women and maidens! +See, good mother, within my inmost heart I've determined +Soon and straightway to do what seems to me right and becoming; +For the man who thinks long, not always chooses what best is. +See, I will not return to the house, but will go from here straightway +Into the town, and there will place at the fighters' disposal +This stout arm and this heart, to serve, as I best can, my country. +Then let my father say whether feelings of honour are stirring +In my bosom or not, and whether I yearn to mount upwards." + +Then with significance answer'd his good and sensible mother, +Shedding tears in silence, which easily rose in her eyelids:-- +"Son, what has wrought so strange a change in your temper and feelings, +That you freely and openly speak to your mother no longer, +As you till yesterday did, nor tell her truly your wishes? +If another had heard you speaking, he doubtless would praise you +Highly, and deem your new resolution as worthy of honour, +Being deceived by your words, and by your manner of speaking. +I however can only blame you. I know you much better. +You are concealing your heart, and very diff'rent your thoughts are; +For I am sure you care not at all for drum and for trumpet, +Nor, to please the maidens, care you to wear regimentals. +For, though brave you may be, and gallant, your proper vocation +Is to remain at home, the property quietly watching. +Therefore tell me truly: What means this sudden decision?" + +Earnestly answer'd the son:--"You are wrong, dear-mother, one day is +Unlike another. The youth soon ripens into his manhood. +Ofttimes he ripens better to action in silence than living +That tumultuous noisy life which ruins so many. +And though silent I have been, and am, a heart has been fashion'd +Inside my bosom, which hates whatever unfair and unjust is, +And I am able right well to discriminate secular matters. +Work moreover my arms and my feet has mightily strengthen'd. +All that I tell you is true; I boldly venture to say so. +And yet, mother, you blame me with reason; you've caught me employing +Words that are only half true, and that serve to conceal my true feelings. +For I must need confess, it is not the advent of danger +Calls me away from my father's house, nor a resolute purpose +Useful to be to my country, and dreaded to be by the foeman. +Words alone it was that I utter'd,--words only intended +Those deep feelings to hide, which within my breast are contending. +And now leave me, my mother! For as in my bosom I cherish +Wishes that are but vain, my life will be to no purpose. +For I know that the Unit who makes a self-sacrifice, only +Injures himself, unless all endeavour the Whole to accomplish." + +"Now continue," replied forthwith his sensible mother:-- +"Tell me all that has happen'd, the least as w'ell as the greatest +Men are always hasty, and only remember the last thing, +And the hasty are easily forced from the road by obstructions. +But a woman is skillful, and full of resources, and scorns not +Bye-roads to traverse when needed, well-skill'd to accomplish her purpose. +Tell me then all, and why you are stirr'd by such violent feelings +More than I ever have seen, while the blood is boiling within you, +And from your eyes the tears against your will fain would fall now." + +Then the youth gave way to his sorrow, and burst into weeping, +Weeping aloud on the breast of his mother, and softly replying +"Truly, my father's words to-day have wounded me sadly, +Never have I deserved at his hands such treatment,--no, never! +For to honour my parents was always my wish from my childhood, +No one ever appear'd so prudent and wise as my parents, +Who in the darker days of childhood carefully watch'd me. +Much indeed it has been my lot to endure from my playmates, +When with their knavish pranks they used to embitter my temper. +Often I little suspected the tricks they were playing upon me: +But if they happen'd to ridicule Father, whenever on Sundays +Out of church he came with his slow deliberate footsteps, +If they laugh'd at the strings of his cap, and his dressing-gown's flowers, +Which he in stately wise wore, and to-day at length has discarded, +Then in a fury I clench'd my fist, and, storming and raging, +Fell upon them and hit and struck with terrible onslaught, +Heedless where my blows fell. With bleeding noses they halloed, +And could scarcely escape from the force of my blows and my kicking. +Then, as in years I advanced, I had much to endure from my father, +Who, in default of others to blame, would often abuse me, +When at the Council's last sitting his anger perchance was excited, +And I the penalty paid of the squabbles and strife of his colleagues. +You yourself have oft pitied me; I endured it with patience, +Always rememb'ring the much-to-be-honour'd kindness of parents, +Whose only thought is to swell for our sakes their goods and possessions, +And who deprive themselves of much, to save for their children. +But, alas, not saving alone, for enjoyment hereafter, +Constitutes happiness, no, not heaps of gold or of silver, +Neither field upon field, however compact the estate be. +For the father grows old, and his son at the same time grows older, +Feeling no joy in To-day, and full of care for To-morrow. +Now look down from this height, and see how beauteous before us +Lies the fair rich expanse, with vineyard and gardens at bottom; +There are the stables and barns, and the rest of the property likewise; +There I also descry the back of our house, in the gables +Of the roof may be seen the window of my small apartment. +When I remember the time when I used to look out for the moon there +Half through the night, or perchance at morning awaited the sunrise, +When with but few hours of healthy sleep I was fully contented, +Ah, how lonely do all things appear! My chamber, the court, and +Garden, the beautiful field which spreads itself over the hillside; +All appears but a desert to me: I still am unmarried!" +Then his good mother answer'd his speech in a sensible manner +"Son, your wish to be able to lead your bride to her chamber, +Turning the night to the dearest and happiest half of your lifetime, +Making your work by day more truly free and unfetter'd, +Cannot be greater than that of your father and mother. We always +Urged you,--commanded, I even might say,--to choose some fair maiden. +But I know full well, and my heart has told me already +If the right hour arrives not, or if the right maiden appears not +Instantly when they are sought for, man's choice is thrown in confusion, +And he is driven by fear to seize what is counterfeit only. +If I may tell you, my son, your choice already is taken, +For your heart is smitten, and sensitive more than is usual. +Answer me plainly, then, for my spirit already has told me: +She whom now you have chosen is that poor emigrant maiden!" + +"Yes, dear mother, you're right!" the son with vivacity answer'd +Yes, it is she! And unless this very day I conduct her +Home as my bride, she will go on her way and escape me for ever, +In the confusion of war, and in moving backwards and forwards. +Mother, then before my eyes will in vain he unfolded +All our rich estate, and each year henceforward be fruitful. +Yes, the familiar house and the garden will be my aversion. +Ah, and the love of my mother no comfort will give to my sorrow, +For I feel that by Love each former bond must be loosen'd, +When her own bonds she knits; 'tis not the maiden alone who +Leaves her father and mother behind, when she follows her husband. +So it is with the youth; no more he knows mother and father. +When he beholds the maiden, the only beloved one, approaching. +Therefore let me go hence, to where desperation may lead me, +For my father already has spoken in words of decision, +And his house no longer is mine, if he shuts out the maiden +Whom alone I would fain take home as my bride from henceforward." + +Then the excellent sensible mother answer'd with quickness +"Men are precisely like rocks when they stand opposed to each other! +Proud and unyielding, the one will never draw near to the other. +Neither will suffer his tongue to utter the first friendly accent. +Therefore I tell you, my son, a hope still exists in my bosom, +If she is worthy and good, he will give his consent to your marriage, +Poor though she be, and although with disdain he refused you the poor thing. +For in his hot-beaded fashion he utters many expressions +Which he never intends; and so will accept the Refused One. +But he requires kind words, and has a right to require them, +For your father he is; his anger is all after dinner, +When he more eagerly speaks, and questions the reasons of others, +Meaning but little thereby; the wine then excites all the vigour +Of his impetuous will, and prevents him from giving due weight to +Other people's opinions; he hears and he feels his own only. +But when evening arrives, the tone of the many discourses +Which his friends and himself hold together, is very much alter'd. +Milder becomes he, as soon as his liquor's effects have passed over +And he feels the injustice his eagerness did unto others. +Come, we will venture at once! Success the reward is of boldness, +And we have need of the friends who now have assembled around him.-- +Most of all we shall want the help of our excellent pastor." +Thus she eagerly spoke, and leaving the stone that she sat on, +Also lifted her son from his seat. He willingly follow'd, +And they descended in silence, revolving the weighty proposal. +----- +V. POLYHYMNIA. + +THE COSMOPOLITE. + +BUT the Three, as before, were still sitting and talking together, +With the landlord, the worthy divine, and also the druggist, +And the conversation still concern'd the same subject, +Which in every form they had long been discussing together. +Full of noble thoughts, the excellent pastor continued +"I can't contradict you. I know 'tis the duty of mortals +Ever to strive for improvement; and, as we may see, they strive also +Ever for that which is higher, at least what is new they seek after, +But don't hurry too fast! For combined with these feelings, kind Nature +Also has given us pleasure in dwelling on that which is ancient, +And in clinging to that to which we have long been accustom'd. +Each situation is good that's accordant to nature and reason. +Many things man desires, and yet he has need of but little; +For but short are the days, and confined is the lot of a mortal. +I can never blame the man who, active and restless, +Hurries along, and explores each corner of earth and the ocean +Boldly and carefully, while he rejoices at seeing the profits +Which round him and his family gather themselves in abundance. +But I also duly esteem the peaceable burgher, +Who with silent steps his paternal inheritance paces, +And watches over the earth, the seasons carefully noting. +'Tis not every year that he finds his property alter'd; +Newly-planted trees cannot stretch out their arms tow'rds the heavens +All in a moment, adorn'd with beautiful buds in abundance. +No, a man has need of patience, he also has need of +Pure unruffled tranquil thoughts and an intellect honest; +For to the nourishing earth few seeds at a time he entrusteth, +Few are the creatures he keeps at a time, with a view to their breeding, +For what is Useful alone remains the first thought of his lifetime. +Happy the man to whom Nature a mind thus attuned may have given! +'Tis by him that we all are fed. And happy the townsman +Of the small town who unites the vocations of town and of country. +He is exempt from the pressure by which the poor farmer is worried, +Is not perplex'd by the citizens' cares and soaring ambition, +Who, with limited means,--especially women and maidens,-- +Think of nothing but aping the ways of the great and the wealthy, +You should therefore bless your son's disposition so peaceful, +And the like-minded wife whom we soon may expect him to marry. + +Thus he spoke. At that moment the mother and son stood before them. +By the hand she led him and placed him in front of her husband +"Father," she said, "how often have we, when talking together, +Thought of that joyful day in the future, when Hermann, selecting +After long waiting his bride at length would make us both happy! +All kinds of projects we form'd. designing first one, then another +Girl as his wife, as we talk'd in the manner that parents delight in. +Now the day has arrived; and now has his bride been conducted +Hither and shown him by Heaven; his heart at length has decided. +Were we not always saying that he should choose for himself, and +Were you not lately wishing that he might feel for a maiden +Warm and heart-felt emotions? And now has arrived the right moment! +Yes, he has felt and has chosen, and like a man has decided. +That fair maiden it is, the Stranger whom he encounter'd. +Give her him; else he'll remain--he has sworn it--unmarried for ever." + +And the son added himself:--"My father, O give her! My heart has +Chosen purely and truly: she'll make you an excellent daughter." + +But the father was silent. Then suddenly rose the good pastor, +And address'd him as follows:--" One single moment's decisive +Both of the life of a man, and of the whole of his Future. +After lengthen'd reflection, each resolution made by him +Is but the work of a moment; the prudent alone seize the right one. +Nothing more dangerous is, in making a choice, than revolving +First this point and then that, and so confusing the feelings. +Pure is Hermann's mind; from his youth I have known him; he never, +Even in boyhood, was wont to extend his hand hither and thither. +What he desired, was suitable to him; he held to it firmly. +Be not astonish'd and scared, because there appears on a sudden +What you so long have desired. 'Tis true the appearance at present +Bears not the shape of the wish, as you in your mind had conceived it. +For our wishes conceal the thing that we wish for; our gifts too +Come from above upon us, each clad in its own proper figure. +Do not now mistake the maiden who has succeeded +First in touching the heart of your good wise son, whom you love so. +Happy is he who is able to clasp the hand of his first love, +And whose dearest wish is not doom'd to pine in his bosom! +Yes, I can see by his face, already his fate is decided; +True affection converts the youth to a man in a moment. +He little changeable is; I fear me, if this you deny him, +All the fairest years of his life will be changed into sorrow." + +Then in prudent fashion the druggist, who long had been wanting +His opinion to give, rejoin'd in the following manner +"This is Just a case when the middle course is the wisest! +'Hasten slowly,' you know, was the motto of Caesar Augustus. +I am always ready to be of use to my neighbours, +And to turn to their profit what little wits I can boast of. +Youth especially needs the guidance of those who are older. +Let me then depart; I fain would prove her, that maiden, +And will examine the people 'mongst whom she lives, and who know her. +I am not soon deceived; I know how to rate their opinions." + +Then forthwith replied the son, with eagerness speaking:-- +"Do so, neighbour, and go, make your inquiries. However, +I should greatly prefer that our friend, the pastor, went with you; +Two such excellent men are witnesses none can find fault with. +O, my father! the maiden no vagabond is, I assure you, +No mere adventurer, wand'ring about all over the country, +And deceiving the inexperienced youths with her cunning; +No! the harsh destiny link'd with this war, so destructive of all things, +Which is destroying the world, and already has wholly uprooted +Many a time-honour'd fabric, has driven the poor thing to exile. +Are not brave men of noble birth now wand'ring in mis'ry? +Princes are fleeing disguised, and monarchs in banishment living. +Ah, and she also herself, the best of her sisters, is driven +Out of her native land; but her own misfortunes forgetting, +Others she seeks to console, and, though helpless, is also most helpful. +Great are the woes and distress which over the earth's face are brooding, +But may happiness not be evoked from out of this sorrow? +May not I, in the arms of my bride, the wife I have chosen, +Even rejoice at the war, as you at the great conflagration?" + +Then replied the father, and open'd his mouth with importance:-- +"Strangely indeed, my son, has your tongue been suddenly loosen'd, +Which for years has stuck in your mouth, and moved there but rarely +I to-day must experience that which threatens each father: +How the ardent will of a son a too-gentle mother +Willingly favours, whilst each neighbour is ready to back him, +Only provided it be at the cost of a father or husband! +But what use would it be to resist so many together? +For I see that defiance and tears will otherwise greet me. +Go and prove her, and in God's name then hasten to bring her +Home as my daughter; if not, he must think no more of the maiden." + +Thus spake the father. The son exclaim'd with jubilant gesture +"Ere the ev'ning arrives, you shall have the dearest of daughters, +Such as the man desires whose bosom is govern'd by prudence +And I venture to think the good creature is fortunate also. +Yes, she will ever be grateful that I her father and mother +Have restored her in you, as sensible children would wish it. +But I will loiter no longer; I'll straightway harness the horses, +And conduct our friends on the traces of her whom I love so, +Leave the men to themselves and their own intuitive wisdom, +And be guided alone by their decision--I swear it,-- +And not see the maiden again, until she my own is." +Then he left the house; meanwhile the others were eagerly +Settling many a point, and the weighty matter debating. + +Hermann sped to the stable forthwith, where the spirited stallions +Tranquilly stood and with eagerness swallow'd the pure oats before them, +And the well-dried hay, which was cut from the best of their meadows. +Then in eager haste in their mouths the shining bits placed he, +Quickly drew the harness through the well-plated buckles, +And then fastend the long broad reins in proper position, +Led the horses out in the yard, where already the carriage, +Easily moved along by its pole, had been push'd by the servant. +Then they restrain'd the impetuous strength of the fast-moving horses, +Fastening both with neat-looking ropes to the bar of the carriage. +Hermann seized his whip, took his seat, and drove to the gateway. +When in the roomy carriage his friends had taken their places, +Swiftly he drove away, and left the pavement behind them, +Left behind the walls of the town and the clean-looking towers, +Thus sped Hermann along, till he reach'd the familiar highway, +Not delaying a moment, and galloping uphill and downhill. +When however at length the village steeple descried he, +And not far away lay the houses surrounded by gardens, +He began to think it was time to hold in the horses. + +By the time-honour'd gloom of noble lime-trees o'er shadow'd, +Which for many a century past on the spot had been rooted, +Stood there a green and spreading grass-plot in front of the village, +Cover'd with turf, for the peasants and neighbouring townsmen a playground. +Scooped out under the trees, to no great depth, stood a fountain. +On descending the steps, some benches of stone might be seen there, +Ranged all around the spring, which ceaselessly well'd forth its waters, +Cleanly, enclosed by a low wall all round, and convenient to draw from. +Hermann then determined beneath the shadow his horses +With the carriage to stop. He did so, and spoke then as follows +"Now, my friends, get down, and go by yourselves to discover +Whether the maiden is worthy to have the hand which I offer. +I am convinced that she is; and you'll bring me no new or strange story: +Had I to manage alone, I would straightway go off to the village, +And in few words should my fate by the charming creature be settled. + +Her you will easily recognize 'mongst all the rest of the people, +For her appearance is altogether unlike that of others. +But I will now describe the modest dress she is wearing:-- +First a bodice red her well-arch'd bosom upraises, +Prettily tied, while black are the stays fitting closely around her. +Then the seams of the ruff she has carefully plaited and folded, +Which with modest grace, her chin so round is encircling. +Free and joyously rises her head with its elegant oval, +Strongly round bodkins of silver her back-hair is many times twisted +Her blue well-plaited gown begins from under her bodice. +And as she walks envelopes her well-turn'd ankles completely. +But I have one thing to say, and this must expressly entreat you: +Do not speak to the maiden, and let not your scheme be discover'd. +But inquire of others, and hearken to all that they tell you, +When you have learnt enough to satisfy father and mother, +Then return to me straight, and we'll settle future proceedings. +This is the plan which I have matured, while driving you hither." + +Thus he spoke, and the friends forthwith went on to the village, +Where, in gardens and barns and houses, the multitude crowded; +All along the broad road the numberless carts were collected, +Men were feeding the lowing cattle and feeding the horses. +Women on every hedge the linen were carefully drying, +Whilst the children in glee were splashing about in the streamlet. +Forcing their way through the waggons, and past the men and the cattle, +Walk'd the ambassador spies, looking well to the righthand and lefthand, +Hoping somewhere to see the form of the well-described maiden; +But wherever they look'd, no trace of the girl they discover'd. + +Presently denser became the crowd. Round some of the waggons. +Men in a passion were quarrelling, women also were screaming. +Then of a sudden approach'd an aged man with firm footstep +Marching straight up to the fighters; and forthwith was hush'd the contention, +When he bade them be still, and with fatherly earnestness threaten'd. +"Are we not yet," he exclaim'd, "by misfortune so knitted together, +As to have learnt at length the art of reciprocal patience +And toleration, though each cannot measure the actions of others? +Prosperous men indeed may quarrel! Will sorrow not teach you +How no longer as formerly you should quarrel with brethren? +Each should give way to each other, when treading the soil of the stranger, +And, as you hope for mercy yourselves, you should share your possessions." + +Thus the man address'd them, and all were silent. In peaceful +Humour the reconciled men look'd after their cattle and waggons. +When the pastor heard the man discourse in this fashion, +And the foreign magistrate's peaceful nature discovered, +He approach'd him in turn, and used this significant language +"Truly, Father, when nations are living in days of good fortune, +Drawing their food from the earth, which gladly opens its treasures, +And its wish'd-for gifts each year and each month is renewing, +Then all matters go smoothly; each thinks himself far the wisest, +And the best, and so they exist by the side of each other, +And the most sensible man no better than others is reckon'd +For the world moves on, as if by itself and in silence. +But when distress unsettles our usual manner of living, +Pulls down each time-honour'd fabric, and roots up the seed in our gardens, +Drives the man and his wife far away from the home they delight in, +Hurries them off in confusion through days and nights full of anguish, +Ah! then look we around in search of the man who is wisest, +And no longer in vain he utters his words full of wisdom. +Tell me whether you be these fugitives' magistrate, Father, +Over whose minds you appear to possess such an influence soothing? +Aye, to-day I could deem you one of the leaders of old time, +Who through wastes and through deserts conducted the wandering people; +I could imagine 'twas Joshua I am addressing, or Moses." + +Then with solemn looks the magistrate answer'd as follows +"Truly the present times resemble the strangest of old times, +Which are preserved in the pages of history, sacred or common. +He in these days who has lived to-day and yesterday only, +Many a year has lived, events so crowd on each other. +When I reflect back a little, a grey old age I could fancy +On my head to be lying, and yet my strength is still active. +Yes, we people in truth may liken ourselves to those others +Unto whom in a fiery bush appear'd, in a solemn +Moment, the Lord our God; in fire and clouds we behold him." + +When the pastor would fain continue to speak on this subject, +And was anxious to learn the fate of the man and his party, +Quickly into his ear his companion secretly whisper'd +"Speak for a time with the magistrate, turning your talk on the maiden, +Whilst I wander about, endeav'ring to find her. Directly +I am successful, I'll join you again." Then nodded the pastor, +And the spy went to seek her, in barns and through hedges and gardens. +----- +VI. KLIO. + +THE AGE. + +WHEN the pastor ask'd the foreign magistrate questions, +What the people had suffer'd, how long from their homes they had wander'd, +Then the man replied:--"By no means short are our sorrows, +For we have drunk the bitters of many a long year together, +All the more dreadful, because our fairest hopes have been blighted. +Who can deny that his heart beat wildly and high in his bosom +And that with purer pulses his breast more freely was throbbing, +When the newborn sun first rose in the whole of its glory, +When we heard of the right of man, to have all things in common, +Heard of noble Equality, and of inspiriting Freedom! +Each man then hoped to attain new life for himself, and the fetters +Which had encircled many a land appear'd to be broken, +Fetters held by the hands of sloth and selfish indulgence. +Did not all nations turn their gaze, in those days of emotion, +Tow'rds the world's capital, which so many a long year had been so, +And then more than ever deserved a name so distinguish'd? +Were not the men, who first proclaim'd so noble a message, +Names that are worthy to rank with the highest the sun ever shone on, +Did not each give to mankind his courage and genius and language? + +"And we also, as neighbours, at first were warmly excited. +Presently after began the war, and the train of arm'd Frenchmen +Nearer approach'd; at first they appear'd to bring with them friendship, +And they brought it in fact; for all their souls were exalted. +And the gay trees of liberty ev'rywhere gladly they planted, +Promising unto each his own, and the government long'd for. +Greatly at this was youth, and greatly old age was delighted, +And the joyous dance began round the newly-raised standards. +In this manner the overpowering Frenchmen soon conquer'd +First the minds of the men, with their fiery lively proceedings, +Then the hearts of the women, with irresistible graces. +Even the strain of the war, with its many demands, seem'd but trifling, +For before our eyes the distance by hope was illumined, +Luring our gaze far ahead into paths now first open'd before us. +"O how joyful the time, when with his bride the glad bridegroom +Whirls in the dance, awaiting the day that will join them for ever +But more glorious far was the time when the Highest of all things +Which man's mind can conceive, close by and attainable seemed. +Then were the tongues of all loosen'd, and words of wisdom and feeling +Not by greybeards alone, but by men and by striplings were utter'd. + +"But the heavens soon clouded became. For the sake of the mast'ry +Strove a contemptible crew, unfit to accomplish good actions. +Then they murder'd each other, and took to oppressing their new-found +Neighbours and brothers, and sent on missions whole herds of selfÄseekers +And the superiors took to carousing and robbing by wholesale, +And the inferiors down to the lowest caroused and robb'd also. +Nobody thought of aught else than having enough for tomorrow. +Terrible was the distress, and daily increased the oppression. +None the cry understood, that they of the day were the masters. +Then even temperate minds were attack'd by sorrow and fury; +Each one reflected, and swore to avenge all the injuries suffer'd, +And to atone for the hitter loss of hopes twice defrauded. +Presently Fortune declared herself on the side of the Germans, +And the French were compell'd to retreat by forced marches before them. +Ah! the sad fate of the war we then for the first time experienced. +For the victor is kind and humane, at least he appears so, +And he spares the man he has vanquish'd, as if he his own were, +When he employs him daily, and with his property helps him. +But the fugitive knows no law; he wards off death only, +And both quickly and recklessly all that he meets with, consumes he. +Then his mind becomes heated apace; and soon desperation +Fills his heart, and impels him to all kinds of criminal actions. +Nothing then holds he respected, he steals It. With furious longing +On the woman he rushes; his lust becomes awful to think of. +Death all around him he sees, his last minutes in cruelty spends he, +Wildly exulting in blood, and exulting in howls and in anguish. + +"Then in the minds of our men arose a terrible yearning +That which was lost to avenge, and that which remain'd to defend still. +All of them seized upon arms, lured on by the fugitives' hurry, +By their pale faces, and by their shy, uncertain demeanour. +There was heard the sound of alarm-bells unceasingly ringing, +And the approach of danger restrain'd not their violent fury. +Soon into weapons were turn'd the implements peaceful of tillage, +And with dripping blood the scythe and the pitchfork were cover'd. +Every foeman without distinction was ruthlessly slaughter'd, +Fury was ev'rywhere raging, and artful, cowardly weakness. +May I never again see men in such wretched confusion! +Even the raging wild beast is a better object to gaze on. +Ne'er let them speak of freedom, as if themselves they could govern! +All the evil which Law has driven farback in the corner +Seems to escape, as soon as the fetters which bound it are loosen'd." + +"Excellent man," replied the pastor, with emphasis speaking +"If you're mistaken in man, 'tis not for me to reprove you. +Evil enough have you suffer'd indeed from his cruel proceedings! +Would you but look back, however, on days so laden with sorrow, +You would yourself confess how much that is good you have witness'd, +Much that is excellent, which remains conceald in the bossom +Till by danger 'tis stirr'd, and till necessity makes man +Show himself as an angel, a tutelar God unto others." + +Then with a smile replied the worthy old magistrate, saying +"Your reminder is wise, like that which they give to the suff'rer +Who has had his dwelling burnt down, that under the ruins, +Gold and silver are lying, though melted and cover'd with ashes. +Little, indeed, it may be, and yet that little is precious, +And the poor man digs it up, and rejoices at finding the treasure. +Gladly, therefore, I turn my thoughts to those few worthy actions +Which my memory still is able to dwell on with pleasure. +Yes, I will not deny it, I saw late foemen uniting +So as to save the town from harm; I saw with devotion +Parents, children and friends impossible actions attempting, +Saw how the youth of a sudden became a man, how the greybeard +Once more was young, how the child as a stripling appear'd in a moment. +Aye, and the weaker sex, as people commonly call it, +Show'd itself brave and daring, with presence of mind all-unwonted. +Let me now, in the first place, describe a deed of rare merit +By a high-spirited girl accomplish'd, an excellent maiden, +Who in the great farmhouse remain'd behind with the servants, +When the whole of the men had departed, to fight with the strangers. +Well, there fell on the court a troop of vagabond scoundrels, +Plund'ring and forcing their way inside the rooms of the women. +Soon they cast their eyes on the forms of the grown-up fair maiden +And of the other dear girls, in age little more than mere children. +Hurried away by raging desire, unfeelingly rush'd they +On the trembling band, and on the high-spirited maiden. +But she instantly seized the sword from the side of a ruffian, +Hew'd him down to the ground; at her feet straight fell he, all bleeding, +Then with doughty strokes the maidens she bravely deliver'd. +Wounded four more of the robbers; with life, however, escaped they. +Then she lock'd up the court, and, arm'd still, waited for succour. + +When the pastor heard the praise of the maiden thus utter'd +Feelings of hope for his friend forthwith arose in his bosom, +And he prepared to ask what had been the fate of the damsel, +Whether she, in the sorrowful flight, form'd one of the people? +At this moment, however, the druggist nimbly approach'd them, +Pull'd the sleeve of the pastor, and whisper'd to him as follows +"I have at last pick'd out the maiden from many a hundred +By her description! Pray come and judge for yourself with your own eyes; +Bring the magistrate with you, that we may learn the whole story." + +So they turn'd themselves round; but the magistrate found himself summon'd +By his own followers, who had need of his presence and counsel. +But the pastor forthwith the druggist accompanied, till they +Came to a gap in the hedge, when the latter pointed with slyness, +"See you," exclaim'd he, "the maiden? The child's clothes she has been changing. +And I recognise well the old calico--also the cushion-- +Cover of blue, which Hermann took in the bundle and gave her. +Quickly and well, of a truth, she has used the presents left with her. +These are evident proofs; and all the rest coincide too; +For a bodice red her well-arch'd bosom upraises, +Prettily tied, while black are the stays fitting close around her. +Then the seams of the ruff she has carefully plaited and folded, +Which, with modest grace, her chin so round is encircling; +Free and joyously rises her head, with its elegant oval, +Strongly round bodkins of silver her back-hair is many times twisted. +When she is sitting, we plainly see her noble proportions, +And the blue well-plaited gown which begins from close to her bosom, +And in rich folds descending, her well-turn'd ankles envelops. +'Tis she, beyond all doubt. So come, that we may examine +Whether she be both a good and a frugal and virtuous maiden." +Then the pastor rejoin'd, the sitting damsel inspecting +"That she enchanted the youth, I confess is no matter of wonder, +For she stands the test of the gaze of a man of experience. +Happy the person to whom Mother Nature the right face has given! +She recommends him at all times, he never appears as a stranger, +Each one gladly approaches, and each one beside him would linger, +If with his face is combined a pleasant and courteous demeanour. +Yes, I assure you the youth has indeed discover'd a maiden +Who the whole of the days of his life will enliven with gladness, +And with her womanly strength assist him at all times and truly. +Thus a perfect body preserves the soul also in pureness, +And a vigorous youth of a happy old age gives assurance. + +After reflecting a little, the druggist made answer as follows:-- +"Yet appearances oft are deceitful. I trust not the outside. +Often, indeed, have I found the truth of the proverb which tells us +Ere you share a bushel of salt with a new-found acquaintance, +Do not trust him too readily; time will make you more certain +How you and he will get on, and whether your friendship is lasting. +Let us then, in the first place, inquire amongst the good people +Unto whom the maiden is known, who can tell us about her." + +"Well, of a truth I commend your prudence," the pastor continued +"Not for ourselves are we wooing! To woo for others is serious." +So they started to meet the worthy magistrate seeing +How in the course of his business he was ascending the main street. +And the wise pastor straightway address'd him with foresight as follows +"We, by-the-bye, have just seen a girl in the neighbouring garden +Under an apple-tree sitting, and clothes for the children preparing, +Made of worn calico, which for the purpose was doubtless presented. +We were pleased by her face; she appears to be one of the right sort. +Tell us, what know you about her? We ask from a laudable motive." + +When the magistrate came to the garden and peep'd in, exclaimed he +"Well do I know her, in truth; for when I told you the story +Of that noble deed which was done by the maiden I spoke of, +How she seized on the sword, and defended herself, and the servants, +She the heroine was! You can see how active her nature. +But she's as good as she's strong; for her aged kinsman she tended +Until the time of his death, for he died overwhelm'd by affliction +At the distress of his town, and the danger his goods were exposed to. +Also with mute resignation she bore the grievous affliction +Of her betroth'd's sad death, a noble young man who, incited +By the first fire of noble thoughts to struggle for freedom, +Went himself to Paris, and soon found a terrible death there. +For, as at home, so there, he fought 'gainst intrigue and oppression." + +Thus the magistrate spoke. The others departed and thanked him, +And the pastor produced a gold piece (the silver his purse held +He some hours before had with genuine kindness expended +When he saw the fugitives passing in sorrowful masses). + +And to the magistrate handed it, saying:--" Divide it, I pray you, +'Mongst those who need it the most. May God give it prosperous increase." + +But the man refused to accept it, and said:--"I assure you, +Many a dollar we've saved, and plenty of clothing and such things, +And I trust we may reach our homes before they are finish'd." + +Then continued the pastor, the gold in his hand once more placing +"None should delay to give in days like the present, and no one +Ought to refuse to receive what is offer'd with liberal kindness. +No one can tell how long he will keep what in peace he possesses, +No one, how long he is doom'd in foreign countries to wander, +While he's deprived of the field and the garden by which he is nurtured." + +"Bravo!" added in turn the druggist, with eagerness speaking +"Had I but money to spare in my pocket, you surely should have it, +Silver and gold alike; for your followers certainly need it. +Yet I'll not leave you without a present, if only to show you +My good will, and I hope you will take the will for the action." +Thus he spoke, and pull'd out by the strings the leather embroider'd +Pouch, in which he was wont his stock of tobacco to carry, +Daintily open'd and shared its contents--some two or three pipes' full. +"Small in truth is the gift," he added. The magistrate answered: +"Good tobacco is always a welcome present to trav'llers." +Then the druggist began his canister to praise very highly. +But the pastor drew him away, and the magistrate left them. +"Come, let us hasten!" exclaimed the sensible man, "for our young friend +Anxiously waits; without further delay let him hear the good tidings." + +So they hasten'd and came, and found that the youngster was leaning +'Gainst his carriage under the lime-trees. The horses were pawing +Wildly the turf; he held them in check and stood there all pensive, +Silently gazing in front, and saw not his friends coming near him, +Till, as they came, they called him and gave him signals of triumph. +Some way off the druggist already began to address him, +But they approach'd the youth still nearer, and then the good pastor +Seized his hand and spoke and took the word from his comrade +"Friend, I wish you joy! Your eye so true and your true heart +Rightly have chosen! May you and the wife of your young days be happy! +She is full worthy of you; so come and turn around the carriage, +That we may reach without delay the end of the village, +So as to woo her, and shortly escort the dear creature home with us." +But the youth stood still, and without any token of pleasure +Heard the words of the envoy, though sounding consoling and heav'nly, +Deeply sigh'd and said:--"We came full speed in the carriage +And shall probably go back home ashamed and but slowly; +For, since I have been waiting care has fallen upon me, +Doubt and suspicion and all that a heart full of love is exposed to. +Do you suppose we have only to come, for the maiden to follow, +Just because we are rich, and she poor and wandering in exile? +Poverty, when undeserved, itself makes proud. The fair maiden +Seems to be active and frugal; the world she may claim as her portion. +Do you suppose that a woman of such great beauty and manners +Can have grown up without exciting love in man's bosom? +Do you suppose that her heart until now has to love been fast closed? +Do not drive thither in haste, for perchance to our shame and confusion +We shall have slowly to turn towards home the heads of our horses. +Yes, some youth, I fear me, possesses her heart, and already +She has doubtless promised her hand and her solemn troth plighted, +And I shall stand all ashamed before her, When making my offer." + +Then the pastor proceeded to cheer him with words of good comfort, +But his companion broke in, in his usual talkative manner +"As things used to be, this embarrassment would not have happened, +When each matter was brought to a close in an orthodox fashion. +Then for their son themselves the bride the parents selected, +And a friend of the house was secretly call'd in the first place. +He was then quietly sent as a suitor to visit the parents +Of the selected bride; and, dress'd in his gayest apparel, +Went after dinner some Sunday to visit the excellent burgher, +And began by exchanging polite remarks on all subjects, +Cleverly turning and bending the talk in the proper direction. +After long beating about the bush, he flatter'd the daughter, +And spoke well of the man and the house that gave his commission. +Sensible people soon saw his drift, and the sensible envoy +Watch'd how the notion was taken, and then could explain himself farther. +If they declined the proposal, why then the refusal cost nothing, +But if all prosper'd, why then the suitor for ever thereafter +Play'd the first fiddle at every family feast and rejoicing. +For the married couple remember'd the whole of their lifetime +Whose was the skilful hand by which the marriage knot tied was. +All this now is chang'd, and with many an excellent custom +Has gone quite out of fashion. Each person woos for himself now. +Everyone now must bear the weight of a maiden's refusal +On his own shoulders, and stand all ashamed before her, if needs be." + +"Let that be as it may," then answered the young man who scarcely +Heard what was said, and his mind had made up already in silence +"I will go myself, and out of the mouth of the maiden +Learn my own fate, for towards her I cherish the most trustful feelings +That any man ever cherish'd towards any woman whatever. +That which she says will be good and sensible,--this I am sure of. +If I am never to see her again, I must once more behold her, +And the ingenuous gaze of her black eyes must meet for the last time. +If to my heart I may clasp her never, her bosom and shoulders +I would once more see, which my arm so longs to encircle: +Once more the mouth I would see, from which one kiss and a Yes will +Make me happy for ever, a No for ever undo me. +But now leave me alone! Wait here no longer. Return you +Straight to my father and mother, in order to tell them in person +That their son was right, and that the maiden is worthy. +And so leave me alone! I myself shall return by the footpath +Over the hill by the pear-tree and then descend through the vineyard, +Which is the shortest way back. Oh may I soon with rejoicing +Take the beloved one home! But perchance all alone I must slink back +By that path to our house and tread it no more with a light heart." +Thus he spoke, and then placed the reins in the hands of the pastor, +Who, in a knowing way both the foaming horses restraining, +Nimbly mounted the carriage, and took the seat of the driver. + +But you still delay'd, good cautious neighbour, and spoke thus +Friend, I will gladly entrust to you soul, and spirit, and mind too, +But my body and bones are not preserved in the best way +When the hand of a parson such worldly matters as reins grasps!" + +But you smiled in return, you sensible pastor, replying +"Pray jump in, nor fear with both body and spirit to trust me, +For this hand to hold the reins has long been accustom'd, +And these eyes are train'd to turn the corner with prudence. +For we were wont to drive the carriage, when living at Strasburg, +At the time when with the young baron I went there, for daily, +Driven by me, through the echoing gateway thunder'd the carriage +By the dusty roads to distant meadows and lindens, +Through the crowds of the people who spend their lifetime in walking." + +Partially comforted, then his neighbour mounted the carriage, +Sitting like one prepared to make a wise jump, if needs be, +And the stallions, eager to reach their stables, coursed homewards, +While beneath their powerful hoofs the dust rose in thick clouds. +Long there stood the youth, and saw the dust rise before him, +Saw the dust disperse; but still he stood there, unthinking. +----- +VII. ERATO. + +DOROTHEA. + +As the man on a journey, who, just at the moment of sunset, +Fixes his gaze once more on the rapidly vanishing planet, +Then on the side of the rocks and in the dark thicket still sees he +Hov'ring its image; wherever he turns his looks, on in front still +Runs it, and glitters and wavers before him in colours all splendid, +So before Hermanns eyes did the beautiful form of the maiden +Softly move, and appear'd to follow the path through the cornfields. + +But he roused himself up from his startling dream, and then slowly +Turn'd tow'rd the village his steps, and once more started,--for once more +Saw he the noble maiden's stately figure approaching. +Fixedly gazed he; it was no phantom in truth; she herself 'twas +In her hands by the handle she carried two pitchers,--one larger, +One of a smaller size, and nimbly walk'd to the fountain. +And he joyfully went to meet her; the sight of her gave him +Courage and strength, and so he address'd the surprised one as follows:-- +"Do I find you again, brave maiden, engaged in assisting +Others so soon, and in giving refreshment to those who may need it? +Tell me why you have come all alone to the spring so far distant, +Whilst the rest are content with the water that's found in the village? +This one, indeed, special virtue possesses, and pleasant to drink is. +Is't for the sake of that sick one you come, whom you saved with such courage?" + +Then the good maiden the youth in friendly fashion saluted, +Saying:--"Already my walk to the fountain is fully rewarded, +Since I have found the kind person who gave us so many good presents; +For the sight of a giver, like that of a gift, is refreshing. +Come and see for yourself the persons who tasted your kindness, +And receive the tranquil thanks of all you have aided. +But that you may know the reason why I have come here, +Water to draw at a spot where the spring is both pure and unceasing, +I must inform you that thoughtless men have disturb'd all the water +Found in the village, by carelessly letting the horses and oxen +Wade about in the spring which give the inhabitants water. +In the same manner, with all their washing and cleaning they've dirtied +All the troughs of the village, and all the fountains have sullied. +For each one of them only thinks how quickly and soon he +May supply his own wants, and cares not for those who come after." + +Thus she spoke, and soon she arrived at the foot of the broad steps +With her companion, and both of them sat themselves down on the low wall +Round the spring. She bent herself over, to draw out the water, +He the other pitcher took up, and bent himself over, +And in the blue of the heavens they saw their figures reflected, +Waving, and nodding, and in the mirror their greetings exchanging. +"Now let me drink," exclaim'd the youth in accents of gladness. +And she gave him the pitcher. They then, like old friends, sat together, +Leaning against the vessels, when she address'd him as follows +"Say, why find I you here without your carriage and horses, +Far from the place where first I saw you. Pray how came you hither?" + +Hermann thoughtfully gazed on the ground, but presently lifted +Calmly towards her his glances, and gazed on her face in kind fashion, +Feeling quite calm and composed. And yet with love to address her +Found he quite out of the question; for love from her eyes was not beaming, +But an intellect clear, which bade him use sensible language. +Soon he collected his thoughts, and quietly said to the maiden:-- +"Let me speak, my child, and let me answer your questions. +"'Tis for your sake alone I have come,--why seek to conceal it? +For I happily live with two affectionate parents, +Whom I faithfully help to look after our house and possessions, +Being an only son, while numerous are our employments. +I look after the field work; the house is carefully managed +By my father; my mother the hostelry cheers and enlivens. +But you also have doubtless found out how greatly the servants, +Sometimes by fraud, and sometimes by levity, worry their mistress, +Constantly making her change them, and barter one fault for another. +Long has my mother, therefore, been wanting a girl in the household, +Who, not only with hand, but also with heart might assist her, +In the place of the daughter she lost, alas, prematurely. +Now when I saw you to-day near the carriage, so active and sprightly, +Saw the strength of your arm and the perfect health of your members, +When I heard your sensible words, I was struck with amazement, +And I hasten'd back home, deservedly praising the stranger +Both to my parents and friends. And now I come to inform you +What they desire, as I do. Forgive my stammering language!" + +"Do not hesitate," said she, "to tell me the rest of your story +I have with gratitude felt that you have not sought to insult me. +Speak on boldly, I pray; your words shall never alarm me; +You would fain hire me now as maid to your father and mother, +To look after the house, which now is in excellent order. +And you think that in me you have found a qualified maiden, +One that is able to work, and not of a quarrelsome nature. +Your proposal was short, and short shall my answer be also +Yes! with you I will go, and the voice of my destiny follow. +I have fulfill'd my duty, and brought the lying-in woman +Back to her friends again, who all rejoice at her rescue. +Most of them now are together, the rest will presently join them. +All expect that they, in a few short days, will be able +Homewards to go; 'tis thus that exiles themselves love to flatter. +But I cannot deceive myself with hopes so delusive +In these sad days which promise still sadder days in the future +For all the bonds of the world are loosen'd, and nought can rejoin them, +Save that supreme necessity over our future impending. +If in the house of so worthy a man I can earn my own living, +Serving under the eye of his excellent wife, I will do so; +For a wandering girl bears not the best reputation. +Yes! with you I will go, as soon as I've taken the pitcher +Back to my friends, and received the blessing of those worthy people. +Come! you needs must see them, and from their hands shall receive me." + +Joyfully heard the youth the willing maiden's decision, +Doubting whether he now had not better tell her the whole truth; +But it appear'd to him best to let her remain in her error, +First to take her home, and then for her love to entreat her. +Ah! but now he espied a golden ring on her finger, +And so let her speak, while he attentively listen'd:-- + +"Let us now return," she continued, "the custom is always +To admonish the maidens who tarry too long at the fountain, +Yet how delightful it is by the fast-flowing water to chatter!" +Then they both arose, and once more directed their glances +Into the fountain, and then a blissful longing came o'er them. + +So from the ground by the handles she silently lifted the pitchers, +Mounted the steps of the well, and Hermann follow'd the loved one. +One of the pitchers he ask'd her to give him, thus sharing the burden. +"Leave it," she said, "the weight feels less when thus they are balanced; +And the master I've soon to obey, should not be my servant. +Gaze not so earnestly at me, as if my fate were still doubtfull! +Women should learn betimes to serve, according to station, +For by serving alone she attains at last to the mast'ry, +To the due influence which she ought to possess in the household. +Early the sister must learn to serve her brothers and parents, +And her life is ever a ceaseless going and coming, +Or a lifting and carrying, working and doing for others. +Well for her, if she finds no manner of life too offensive, +And if to her the hours of night and of day all the same are, +So that her work never seems too mean, her needle too pointed, +So that herself she forgets, and liveth only for others! +For as a mother in truth she needs the whole of the virtues, +When the suckling awakens the sick one, and nourishment calls for +From the exhausted parent, heaping cares upon suff'ring. +Twenty men together could not endure such a burden, +And they ought not,--and yet they gratefully ought to behold it." + +Thus she spoke, and with her silent companion advanced she +Through the garden, until the floor of the granary reach'd they, +Where the sick woman lay, whom she left by her daughters attended, +Those dear rescued maidens, the types of innocent beauty. +Both of them enter'd the room, and from the other direction, +Holding a child in each hand, her friend, the magistrate, enter'd. +These had lately been lost for some time by the sorrowing mother, +But the old man had now found them out in the crowd of the people. +And they sprang in with joy, to greet their dearly-loved mother, +To rejoice in a brother, the playmate now seen for the first time! + +Then on Dorothea they sprang, and greeted her warmly, +Asking for bread and fruit, but asking for drink before all things. +And they handed the water all round. The children first drank some, +Then the sick woman drank, with her daughters, the magistrate also. +All were refresh'd, and sounded the praise of the excellent water; +Mineral was it, and very reviving, and wholesome for drinking. + +Then with a serious look continued the maiden, and spoke thus +Friends, to your mouths for the last time in truth I have lifted the pitcher, +And for the last time, alas, have moisten'd your lips with pure water. +But whenever in scorching heat your drink may refresh you, +And in the shade you enjoy repose and a fountain unsullied, +Then remember me, and all my friendly assistance, +Which I from love, and not from relationship merely have render'd. +All your kindness to me, as long as life lasts, I'll remember, +I unwillingly leave you; but each one is now to each other +Rather a burden than comfort. We all must shortly be scatter'd +Over a foreign land, unless to return we are able. +See, here stands the youth to whom for those gifts we're indebted, +All those clothes for the child, and all those acceptable viands. +Well, he has come, and is anxious that I to his house should go with him, +There as a servant to act to his rich and excellent parents, +And I have not refused him, for serving appears my vocation, +And to be served by others at home would seem like a burden. +So I'll go willingly with him; the youth appears to be prudent, +Thus will his parents be properly cared for, as rich people should be. +Therefore, now, farewell, my much-loved friend, and be joyful +In your living infant, who looks so healthily at you. +When you press him against your bosom, wrapp'd up in those colourd +Swaddling-clothes, then remember the youth who so kindly bestow'd them, +And who in future will feed and clothe me also, your loved friend. +You too, excellent man," to the magistrate turning, she added +"Warmly I thank for so often acting the part of a father." + +Then she knelt herself down before the lying-in patient, +Kiss'd the weeping woman, her whisper'd blessing receiving. +Meanwhile the worthy magistrate spoke to Hermann as follows +"You deserve, my friend to be counted amongst the good landlords +Who are anxious to manage their house through qualified people. +For I have often observed how cautiously men are accustom'd +Sheep and cattle and horses to watch, when buying or bart'ring +But a man, who's so useful, provided he's good and efficient, +And who does so much harm and mischief by treacherous dealings, +Him will people admit to their houses by chance and haphazard, +And too late find reason to rue an o'erhasty decision. +This you appear to understand, for a girl you have chosen +As your servant, and that of your parents, who thoroughly good is. +Treat her well, and as long as she finds the business suit her, +You will not miss your sister, your parents will miss not their daughter." + +Other persons now enter'd, the patient's nearest relations, +Many articles bringing, and better lodgings announcing. +All were inform'd of the maiden's decision, and warmly bless'd Hermann, +Both with significant looks, and also with grateful expressions, +And one secretly whispered into the ear of another +"If the master should turn to a bridegroom, her home is provided." +Hermann then presently took her hand, and address'd her as follows +"Let us be going; the day is declining, and far off the village." +Then the women, with lively expressions, embraced Dorothea; +Hermann drew her away; they still continued to greet her. +Next the children, with screams and terrible crying attack'd her, +Pulling her clothes, their second mother refusing to part from. +But first one of the women, and then another rebuked them +"Children, hush! to the town she is going, intending to bring you +Plenty of gingerbread back, which your brother already had order'd, +From the confectioner, when the stork was passing there lately, +And she'll soon return, with papers prettily gilded." + +So at length the children released her; but scarcely could Hermann +Tear her from their embraces and distant-signalling kerchiefs. +----- +VIII. MELPOMENE. + +HERMANN AND DOROTHEA. + +So tow'rd the sun, now fast sinking to rest, the two walk'd together, +Whilst he veil'd himself deep in clouds which thunder portended. +Out-of his veil now here, now there, with fiery glances +Beaming over the plain with rays foreboding and lurid. +"May this threatening weather," said Hermann, "not bring to us shortly +Hail and violent rain, for well does the harvest now promise." +And they both rejoiced in the corn so lofty and waving, +Well nigh reaching the heads of the two tall figures that walk'd there. +Then the maiden spoke to her friendly leader as follows +"Generous youth, to whom I shall owe a kind destiny shortly, +Shelter and home, when so many poor exiles must weather the tempest, +In the first place tell me all about your good parents, +Whom I intend to serve with all my soul from hence-forward; +Knowing one's master, 'tis easier far to give satisfaction, +By rememb'ring the things which he deems of the highest importance, +And on which he has set his heart with the greatest decision. +Tell me, then, how best I can win your father and mother." + +Then the good and sensible youth made answer as follows +"You are indeed quite right, my kind and excellent maiden, +To begin by asking about the tastes of my parents! +For I have hitherto striven in vain to satisfy Father, +When I look'd after the inn, as well as my regular duty, +Working early and late in the field, and tending the vineyard. +Mother indeed was contented; she knew how to value my efforts; +And she will certainly hold you to be an excellent maiden, +If you take care of the house, as though the dwelling your own were. +But my father's unlike her; he's fond of outward appearance. +Gentle maiden, deem me not cold and void of all feeling, +If I disclose my father's nature to you, who're a stranger. +Yes, such words have never before escaped, I assure von +Out of my mouth, which is little accustom'd to babble and chatter; +But you have managed to worm all my secrets from out of my bosom. +Well, my worthy father the graces of life holds in honour, +Wishes for outward signs of love, as well as of rev'rence, +And would doubtless be satisfied with an inferior servant +Who understood this fancy, and hate a better, who did not." + +Cheerfully she replied, with gentle movement increasing +Through the darkening path the speed at which she was walking: +I in truth shall hope to satisfy both of your parents, +For your mother's character my own nature resembles, +And to external graces have I from my youth been accustom'd. +Our old neighbours, the French, in their earlier days laid much stress on +Courteous demeanour; 'twas common alike to nobles and burghers, +And to peasants, and each enjoin'd it on all his acquaintance. +in the same way, on the side of the Germans, the children were train'd up +Every morning, with plenty of kissing of hands and of curtsies, +To salute their parents, and always to act with politeness. +All that I have learnt, and all I have practised since childhood, +All that comes from my heart,--I will practise it all with the old man. +But on what terms shall I--I scarcely dare ask such a question,-- +Be with yourself, the only son, and hereafter my master?" + +Thus she spoke, and at that moment they came to the peartree. +Down from the skies the moon at her full was shining in glory; +Night had arrived, and the last pale gleam of the sunset had vanish'd. +So before them were lying, in masses all heap'd up together, +Lights as clear as the day, and shadows of night and of darkness. +And the friendly question was heard by Hermann with pleasure, +Under the shade of the noble tree at the spot which he loved so +Which that day had witness'd his tears at the fate of the exile. +And whilst they sat themselves down, to take a little repose there, +Thus the loving youth spoke, whilst he seized the hand of the maiden +"Let your heart give the answer, and always obey what it tells you!" +But he ventured to say no more, however propitious +Was the moment; he feard that a No would be her sole answer, +Ah! and he felt the ring on her finger, that sorrowful token. +So by the side of each other they quietly sat and in silence, +But the maiden began to speak, and said, "How delightful +Is the light of the moon! The clearness of day it resembles. +Yonder I see in the town the houses and courtyards quite plainly, +In the gable a window; methinks all the panes I can reckon." + +"That which you see," replied the youth, who spoke with an effort, +"That is our house down to which I now am about to conduct you, +And that window yonder belongs to my room in the attic, +Which will probably soon be yours, as we're making great changes. +All these fields are ours, and ripe for the harvest to-morrow; +Here in the shade we are wont to rest, enjoying our meal-time. +But let us now descend across the vineyard and garden, +For observe how the threatening storm is hitherward rolling, +Lightening first, and then eclipsing the beautiful full moon." +So the pair arose, and wauder'd down by the corn-field, + +Through the powerful corn, in the nightly clearness rejoicing; +And they reach'd the vineyard, and through its dark shadows proceeded. +So he guided her down the numerous tiers of the flat stones +Which, in an unhewn state, served as steps to the walk through the foliage. +Slowly she descended, and placed her hands on his shoulders; +And, with a quivering light, the moon through the foliage o'erlook'd them, +Till by storm-clouds envelop'd, she left the couple in darkness. +Then the strong youth supported the maiden, who on him was leaning; +She, however, not knowing the path, or observing the rough steps, +Slipp'd as she walk'd, her foot gave way, and she well nigh was falling. +Hastily held out his arm the youth with nimbleness thoughtful, +And held up his beloved one; she gently sank on his shoulders, +Breast was press'd against breast, and cheek against cheek, and so stood he +Fix'd like a marble statue, restrained by a firm resolution; +He embraced her no closer, thoughall her weight he supported; +So he felt his noble burden, the warmth of her bosom, +And her balmy breath, against his warm lips exhaling, +Bearing with manly feelings the woman's heroical greatness. + +But she conceal'd the pain which she felt, and jestingly spoke thus +"It betokens misfortune,--so scrupulous people inform us,-- +For the foot to give way on entering a house, near the threshold. +I should have wish'd, in truth, for a sign of some happier omen! +Let us tarry a little, for fear your parents should blame you +For their limping servant, and you should be thought a bad landlord." +----- +IX. URANIA. + +CONCLUSION. + +O YE Muses, who gladly favour a love that is heartfelt, +Who on his way the excellent youth have hitherto guided, +Who have press'd the maid to his bosom before their betrothal, +Help still further to perfect the bonds of a couple so loving, +Drive away the clouds which over their happiness hover! +But begin by saying what now in the house has been passing. + +For the third time the mother impatiently enter'd the chamber +Where the men were sitting, which she had anxiously quitted, +Speaking of the approaching storm, and the loss of the moon's light, +Then of her son's long absence, and all the perils that night brings. +Strongly she censured their friends for having so soon left the youngster, +For not even addressing the maiden, or seeking to woo her. + +"Make not the worst of the mischief," the father peevishly answer'd; +"For you see we are waiting ourselves, expecting the issue." + +But the neighbour sat still, and calmly address'd them as follows:-- +"In uneasy moments like these, I always feel grateful +To my late father, who when I was young all seeds of impatience +In my mind uprooted, and left no fragment remaining, +And I learnt how to wait, as well as the best of the wise men. +"Tell us what legerdemain he employ'd," the pastor made answer. +"I will gladly inform you, and each one may gain by the lesson," +Answer'd the neighbour. "When I was a boy, I was standing one Sunday +In a state of impatience, eagerly waiting the carriage +Which was to carry us out to the fountain under the lime-trees; +But it came not; I ran like a weasel now hither, now thither, +Up and down the stairs, and from the door to the window; +Both my hands were prickling, I scratch'd away at the tables, +Stamping and trotting about, and scarcely refrain'd I from crying. +All this the calm man composedly saw; but finally when I +Carried my folly too far, by the arm he quietly took me, +Led me up to the window, and used this significant language +'See you up yonder the joiner's workshop, now closed for the Sunday? +'Twill be re-open'd to-morrow, and plane and saw will be working. +Thus will the busy hours be pass'd from morning till evening. +But remember this: the rimming will soon be arriving, +When the master, together with all his men, will be busy +In preparing and finishing quickly and deftly your coffin, +And they will carefully bring over here that house made of boards, which +Will at length receive the patient as well as impatient, +And which is destined to carry a roof that's unpleasantly heavy. +All that he mention'd I forthwith saw taking place in my mind's eye, +Saw the boards join'd together, and saw the black cover made ready, +Patiently then I sat, and meekly awaited the carriage. +And I always think of the coffin whenever I see men +Running about in a state of doubtful and wild expectation." + +Smilingly answered the pastor:--"Death's stirring image is neither +Unto the wise a cause of alarm,--or an end to the pious. +Back into life it urges the former, and teaches him action, +And, for the weal of the latter, it strengthens his hope in affliction. +Death is a giver of life unto both. Your father did wrongly +When to the sensitive boy he pointed out death in its own form. +Unto the youth should be shown the worth of a noble and ripen'd +Age, and unto the old man, youth, that both may rejoice in +The eternal circle, and life may in life be made perfect!" + +Here the door was open'd. The handsome couple appear'd there, +And the friends were amazed, the loving parents astonish'd +At the form of the bride, the form of the bridegroom resembling. +Yes! the door appear'd too small to admit the tall figures +Which now cross'd the threshold, in company walking together. +To his parents Hermann presented her, hastily saying:-- +"Here is a maiden just of the sort you are wishing to have here, +Welcome her kindly, dear father! she fully deserves it, and you too, +Mother dear, ask her questions as to her housekeeping knowledge, +That you may see how well she deserves to form one of our party." +Then he hastily took on one side the excellent pastor, +Saying:--" Kind sir, I entreat you to help me out of this trouble +Quickly, and loosen the knot, whose unravelling I am so dreading; +For I have not ventured to woo as my bride the fair maiden, +But she believes she's to be a maid in the house, and I fear me +She will in anger depart, as soon as we talk about marriage. +But it must be decided at once! no longer in error +Shall she remain, and I no longer this doubt can put up with. +Hasten and once more exhibit that wisdom we all hold in honour." +So the pastor forthwith turn'd round to the rest of the party, +But the maiden's soul was, unhappily, troubled already +By the talk of the father, who just had address'd her as follows, +Speaking good humour'dly, and in accents pleasant and lively +"Yes, I'm well satisfied, child! I joyfully see that my son has +Just as good taste as his father, who in his younger days show'd it, +Always leading the fairest one out in the dance, and then lastly +Taking the fairest one home as his wife--'twas your dear little mother! +For by the bride whom a man selects, we may easily gather +What kind of spirit his is, and whether he knows his own value. +But you will surely need but a short time to form your decision, +For I verily think he will find it full easy to follow." +Hermann but partially heard the words; the whole of his members +Inwardly quivered, and all the circle were suddenly silent. + +But the excellent maiden, by words of such irony wounded, +(As she esteem'd them to be) and deeply distress'd in her spirit, +Stood, while a passing flush from her cheeks as far as her neck was +Spreading, but she restrain'd herself, and collected her thoughts soon; +Then to the old man she said, not fully concealing her sorrow +"Truly I was not prepared by your son for such a reception, +When he described his father's nature,--that excellent burgher, +And I know I am standing before you, a person of culture, +Who behaves himself wisely to all, in a suitable manner. +But it would seem that you feel not pity enough for the poor thing +Who has just cross'd your threshold, prepared to enter your service +Else you would not seek to point out, with ridicule bitter, +How far removed my lot from your son's and that of yourself is. +True, with a little bundle, and poor, I have enter'd your dwelling, +Which it is the owner's delight to furnish with all things. +But I know myself well, and feel the whole situation. +Is it generous thus to greet me with language so jeering, +Which was well nigh expelled me the house, when just on the threshold?" + +Hermann uneasily moved about, and signed to the pastor +To interpose without delay, and clear up the error. +Quickly the wise man advanced to the spot, and witness'd the maiden's +Silent vexation and tearful eyes and scarce-restrain'd sorrow. +Then his spirit advised him to solve not at once the confusion, +But, on the contrary, prove the excited mind of the maiden. +So, in words framed to try her, the pastor address'd her as follows:-- +"Surely, my foreign maiden, you did not fully consider, +When you made up your mind to serve a stranger so quickly, +What it really is to enter the house of a master; +For a shake of the hand decides your fate for a twelvemonth, +And a single word Yes to much endurance will bind you. +But the worst part of the service is not the wearisome habits, +Nor the bitter toil of the work, which seems never-ending; +For the active freeman works hard as well as the servant. +But to suffer the whims of the master, who blames you unjustly, +Or who calls for this and for that, not knowing his own mind, +And the mistress's violence, always so easily kindled, +With the children's rough and supercilious bad manners,-- +This is indeed hard to bear, whilst still fulfilling your duties +Promptly and actively, never becoming morose or ill-natured; +Yet for such work you appear little fit, for already the father's +Jokes have offended you deeply; yet nothing more commonly happens +Than to tease a maiden about her liking a youngster." +Thus he spoke, and the maiden felt the weight of his language, +And no more restrain'd herself; mightily all her emotions +Show'd themselves, her bosom heaved, and a deep sigh escaped her, +And whilst shedding burning tears, she answer'd as follows:-- +"Ne'er does the clever man, who seeks to advise us in sorrow, +Think how little his chilling words our hearts can deliver +From the pangs which an unseen destiny fastens upon us. +You are happy and merry. How then should a jest ever wound you? +But the slightest touch gives torture to those who are suff'ring. +Even dissimulation would nothing avail me at present. +Let me at once disclose what later would deepen my sorrow, +And consign me perchance to agony mute and consuming. +Let me depart forthwith! No more in this house dare I linger; +I must hence and away, and look once more for my poor friends +Whom I left in distress, when seeking to better my fortunes. +This is my firm resolve; and now I may properly tell you +That which had else been buried for many a year in my bosom. +Yes, the father's jest has wounded me deeply, I own it, +Not that I'm proud and touchy, as ill becometh a servant, +But because in truth in my heart a feeling has risen +For the youth, who to-day has fill'd the part of my Saviour. +For when first in the road he left me, his image remain'd still +Firmly fix'd in my mind; and I thought of the fortunate maiden +Whom, as his betroth'd one, he cherish'd perchance in his bosom. +And when I found him again at the well, the sight of him charm'd me +Just as if I had-seen an angel descending from heaven. +And I follow'd him willingly, when as a servant he sought me, +But by my heart in truth I was flatter'd (I need must confess it), +As I hitherward came, that I might possibly win him, +If I became in the house an indispensable pillar. +But, alas, I now see the dangers I well nigh fell into, +When I bethought me of living so near a silently-loved one. +Now for the first time I feel how far removed a poor maiden +Is from a richer youth, however clever she may be. +I have told you all this, that you my heart may mistake not, +Which an event that in thought I foreshadow has wounded already. +For I must have expected, my secret wishes concealing, +That, ere much time had elapsed, I should see him bringing his bride home. +And how then could I have endured my hidden affliction! +Happily I am warn'd in time, and out of my bosom +Has my secret escaped, whilst curable still is the evil. +But no more of the subject! I now must tarry no longer +In this house, where I now am standing in pain and confusion, +All my foolish hopes and my feelings freely confessing. +Not the night which, with sinking clouds, is spreading around us, +Not the rolling thunder (I hear it already) shall stop me, +Not the falling rain, which outside is descending in torrents, +Not the blustering storm. All this I had to encounter +In that sorrowful flight, while the enemy follow'd behind Us. +And once more I go on my way, as I long have been wont to, +Seized by the whirlpool of time, and parted from all that I care for. +So farewell! I'll tarry no longer. My fate is accomplish'd!" + +Thus she spoke, and towards the door she hastily turn'd her, +Holding under her arm the bundle she brought when arriving. +But the mother seized by both of her arms the fair maiden, +Clasping her round the body, and cried with surprise and amazement +"Say, what signifies this? These fruitless tears, what denote they? +No, I'll not leave you alone! You're surely my dear son's betroth'd one!" +But the father stood still, and show'd a great deal of reluctance, +Stared at the weeping girl, and peevishly spoke then as follows +"This, then, is all the indulgence my friends are willing to give me, +That at the close of the day the most unpleasant thing happens! +For there is nothing I hate so much as the tears of a woman, +And their passionate cries, set up with such heat and excitement, +Which a little plain sense would show to be utterly needless. +Truly, I find the sight of these whimsical doings a nuisance. +Matters must shift for themselves; as for me, I think it is bed-time." +So he quickly turn'd round, and hasten'd to go to the chamber +Where the marriage-bed stood, in which he slept for the most part. +But his son held him back, and spoke in words of entreaty +"Father, don't go in a hurry, and be not amniote with the maiden! +I alone have to bear the blame of all this confusion, +Which our friend has increased by his unexpected dissembling. +Speak then, honour'd Sir! for to you the affair I confided; +Heap not up pain and annoyance, but rather complete the whole matter; +For I surely in future should not respect you so highly, +If you play practical jokes, instead of displaying true wisdom." + +Thereupon the worthy pastor smilingly answer'd +"What kind of wisdom could have extracted the charming confession +Of this good maiden, and so have reveal'd all her character to us? +Is not your care converted at once to pleasure and rapture? +Speak out, then, for yourself! Why need explanations from others +Hermann then stepped forward, and gently address'd her as follows +"Do not repent of your tears, nor yet of your passing affliction; +For they perfect my happiness; yours too, I fain would consider. +I came not to the fountain, to hire so noble a maiden +As a servant, I came to seek to win you affections. +But, alas! my timid gaze had not strength to discover +Your heart's leanings; it saw in your eye but a friendly expression, +When you greeted it out of the tranquil fountain's bright mirror. +Merely to bring you home, made half of my happiness certain +But you now make it complete! May every blessing be yours, then!" +Then the maiden look'd on the youth with heartfelt emotion, +And avoided not kiss or embrace, the summit of rapture, +When they also are to the loving the long-wish'd-for pledges +Of approaching bliss in a life which now seems to them endless. +Then the pastor told the others the whole of the story; +But the maiden came and gracefully bent o'er the father, +Kissing the while his hand, which he to draw back attempted. +And she said:--" I am sure that you will forgive the surprised one, +First for her tears of sorrow, and then for her tears of true rapture. +O forgive the emotions by which they both have been prompted, +And let me fully enjoy the bliss that has now been vouchsafed me! +Let the first vexation, which my confusion gave rise to, +Also be the last! The loving service which lately +Was by the servant promised, shall now by the daughter be render'd." + +And the father, his tears concealing, straightway embraced her; +Lovingly came the mother in turn, and heartily kiss'd her, +Warmly shaking her hand; and silently wept they together. +Then in a hasty manner, the good and sensible pastor +Seized the hand of the father, his wedding-ring off from his finger +Drawing (not easily though; so plump was the member that held it) +Then he took the mother's ring, and betroth'd the two children, +Saying:--"Once more may it be these golden hoops' destination +Firmly to fasten a bond altogether resembling the old one! +For this youth is deeply imbued with love for the maiden, +And the maiden confesses that she for the youth has a liking. +Therefore, I now betroth you, and wish you all blessings hereafter, +With the parents' consent, and with our friend here as a witness." + +And the neighbour bent forward, and added his own benediction; +But when the clergyman placed the gold ring on the hand of the maiden, +He with astonishment saw the one which already was on it, +And which Hermann before at the fountain had anxiously noticed. +Whereupon he spoke in words at once friendly and jesting +"What! You are twice engaging yourself? I hope that the first one +May not appear at the altar, unkindly forbidding the banns there!" + +But she said in reply:--"O let me devote but one moment +To this mournful remembrance! For well did the good youth deserve it, +Who, when departing, presented the ring, but never return'd home. +All was by him foreseen, when freedom's love of a sudden, +And a desire to play his part in the new-found Existence, +Drove him to go to Paris, where prison and death were his portion. +'Farewell,' said he, 'I go; for all things on earth are in motion +At this moment, and all things appear in a state of disunion. +Fundamental laws in the steadiest countries are loosen'd, +And possessions are parted from those who used to possess them, +Friends are parted from friends, and love is parted from love too. +I now leave you here, and whether I ever shall see you +Here again,--who can tell? Perchance these words will our last be. +Man is a stranger here upon earth, the proverb informs us; +Every person has now become more a stranger than ever. +Ours the soil is no longer; our treasures are fast flying from us; +All the sacred old vessels of gold and silver are melted, +All is moving, as though the old-fashion'd world would roll backwards +Into chaos and night, in order anew to be fashion'd. +You of my heart have possession, and if we shall ever here-after +Meet again over the wreck of the world, it will be as new creatures, +All remodell'd and free and independent of fortune; +For what fetters can bind down those who survive such a period! +But if we are destined not to escape from these dangers, +If we are never again to embrace each other with raptures +O then fondly keep in your thoughts my hovering image, +That you may be prepared with like courage for good and ill fortune! +If a new home or a new alliance should chance to allure you, +Then enjoy with thanks whatever your destiny offers, +Purely loving the loving, and grateful to him who thus loves you. +But remember always to tread with a circumspect footstep, +For the fresh pangs of a second loss will behind you be lurking. +Deem each day as sacred; but value not life any higher +Than any other possession, for all possessions are fleeting.' +Thus he spoke; and the noble youth and I parted for ever: +Meanwhile I ev'rything lost, and a thousand times thought of his warning. +Once more I think of his words, now that love is sweetly preparing +Happiness for me anew, and the brightest of hopes is unfolding. +Pardon me, dearest friend, for trembling e'en at the moment +When I am clasping your arm! For thus, on first landing, the sailor +Fancies that even the solid ground is shaking beneath him." + +Thus she spoke, and she placed the rings by the side of each other. +But the bridegroom answer'd, with noble and manly emotion +"All the firmer, amidst the universal disruption, +Be, Dorothea, our union! We'll show ourselves bold and enduring, +Firmly hold our own, and firmly retain our possessions. +For the man who in wav'ring times is inclined to be wav'ring +Only increases the evil, and spreads it wider and wider; +But the man of firm decision the universe fashions. +'Tis not becoming the Germans to further this fearful commotion, +And in addition to waver uncertainly hither and thither. +'This is our own!' we ought to say, and so to maintain it! +For the world will ever applaud those resolute nations +Who for God and the Law, their wives, and parents, and children +Struggle, and fall when contending against the foeman together. +You are mine; and now what is mine, is mine more than ever. +Not with anxiety will I preserve it, or timidly use it, +But with courage and strength. And if the enemy threaten +Now or hereafter, I'll hold myself ready, and reach down my weapons. +If I know that the house and my parents by you are protected, +I shall expose my breast to the enemy, void of all terror; +And if all others thought thus, then might against might should be measured, +And in the early prospect of peace we should all be rejoicing." + + 1796Ä7. +----- +WEST-EASTERN DIVAN. +----- +Who the song would understand, +Needs must seek the song's own land. +Who the minstrel understand, +Needs must seek the minstrel's land. +----- + +THE Poems comprised in this collection are written in the +Persian style, and are greatly admired by Oriental scholars, for +the truthfulness with which the Eastern spirit of poetry is +reproduced by the Western minstrel. They were chiefly composed +between the years 1814 and 1819, and first given to the world in +the latter year. Of the twelve books into which they are divided, +that of Suleika will probably be considered the best, from the +many graceful love-songs which it contains. The following is +Hanoi's account of the Divan, and may well serve as a substitute +for anything I could say respecting it:-- + +It contains opinions and sentiments on the East, expressed in a +series of rich cantos and stanzas full of sweetness and spirit, +and all this as enchanting as a harem emitting the most delicious +and rare perfumes, and blooming with exquisitely-lovely nymphs +with eyebrows painted black, eyes piercing as those of the +antelope, arms white as alabaster, and of the most graceful and +perfectly-formed shapes, while the heart of the reader beats and +grows faint, as did that of the happy Gaspard Debaran, the clown, +who, when on the highest step of his ladder, was enabled to peep +into the Seraglio of Constantinople--that recess concealed from +the inspection of man. Sometimes also the reader may imagine +himself indolently stretched on a carpet of Persian softness, +luxuriously smoking the yellow tobacco of Turkistan through a +long tube of jessamine and amber, while a black slave fans him +with a fan of peacock's feathers, and a little boy presents him +with a cup of genuine Mocha. Goethe has put these enchanting and +voluptuous customs into poetry, and his verses are so perfect, so +harmonious, so tasteful, so soft, that it seems really surprising +that he should ever have been able to have brought the German +language to this state of suppleness. The charm of the book is +inexplicable; it is a votive nosegay sent from the West to the +East, composed of the most precious and curious plants: red +roses, hortensias like the breast of a spotless maiden, purple +digitalis like the long finger of a man, fantastically formed +ranunculi, and in the midst of all, silent and tastefully +concealed, a tuft of German violets. This nosegay signifies that +the West is tired of thin and icy-cold spirituality, and seeks +warmth in the strong and healthy bosom of the East." + + +Translations are here given of upwards of sixty of the best +Poems embraced in the Divan, the number in the original exceeding +two hundred. +----- +I. MORGAGNI NAME. + +BOOK OF THE MINSTREL. + +TALISMANS. + +GOD is of the east possess'd, +God is ruler of the west; +North and south alike, each land +Rests within His gentle hand. +----- +HE, the only righteous one, +Wills that right to each be done. +'Mongst His hundred titles, then, +Highest praised be this!--Amen. +----- +ERROR seeketh to deceive me, +Thou art able to retrieve me; +Both in action and in song +Keep my course from going wrong. + + 1819.* +----- +THE FOUR FAVOURS. + +THAT Arabs through the realms of space + +May wander on, light-hearted, +Great Allah hath, to all their race, + +Four favours meet imparted. + +The turban first--that ornament + +All regal crowns excelling; +A light and ever-shifting tent, + +Wherein to make our dwelling; + +A sword, which, more than rocks and walls + +Doth shield us, brightly glistening; +A song that profits and enthrall, + +For which the maids are list'ning! + + 1814. +----- +DISCORD. + +WHEN by the brook his strain + +Cupid is fluting, +And on the neighboring plain + +Mayors disputing, +There turns the ear ere long, + +Loving and tender, +Yet to the noise a song + +Soon must surrender. +Loud then the flute-notes glad + +Sound 'mid war's thunder; +If I grow raving mad, + +Is it a wonder? +Flutes sing and trumpets bray, + +Waxing yet stronger; +If, then, my senses stray, + +Wonder no longer. + + 1814. +----- +SONG AND STRUCTURE. + +LET the Greek his plastic clay + +Mould in human fashion, +While his own creation may + +Wake his glowing passion; + +But it is our joy to court + +Great Euphrates' torrent, +Here and there at will to sport + +In the Wat'ry current. + +Quench'd I thus my spirit's flame, + +Songs had soon resounded; +Water drawn by bards whose fame + +Pure is, may be rounded.+ + + 1819.* +(+ This oriental belief in the power of the pure to roll-up water into a +crystal hail is made the foundation of the Interesting Pariah Legend, +that will be found elsewhere amongst the Ballads.) +----- +II. HAFIS NAME. + +BOOK OF HAFIS. + +SPIRIT let us bridegroom call, + +And the word the bride; +Known this wedding is to all + +Who have Hafis tried. + +THE UNLIMITED. + +THAT thou can't never end, doth make thee great, +And that thou ne'er beginnest, is thy fate. +Thy song is changeful as yon starry frame, +End and beginning evermore the same; +And what the middle bringeth, but contains +What was at first, and what at last remains. +Thou art of joy the true and minstrel-source, +From thee pours wave on wave with ceaseless force. +A mouth that's aye prepared to kiss, + +A breast whence flows a loving song, +A throat that finds no draught amiss, + +An open heart that knows no wrong. + +And what though all the world should sink! + +Hafis, with thee, alone with thee + +Will I contend! joy, misery, + +The portion of us twain shall be; +Like thee to love, like thee to drink,-- + +This be my pride,--this, life to me! + +Now, Song, with thine own fire be sung,-- +For thou art older, thou more young! + + 1817.* +----- +TO HAFIS. + +HAFIS, straight to equal thee, + +One would strive in vain; +Though a ship with majesty + +Cleaves the foaming main, +Feels its sails swell haughtily + +As it onward hies +Crush'd by ocean's stern decree, + +Wrecked it straightway lies. +Tow'rd thee, songs, light, graceful, free, + +Mount with cooling gush; +Then their glow consumeth me, + +As like fire they rush. +Yet a thought with ecstasy + +Hath my courage moved; +In the land of melody + +I have lived and loved. + + 1815. +----- +III. USCHK NAME. + +BOOK OF LOVE. + +THE TYPES. + +LIST, and in memory bear +These six fond loving pair. +Love, when aroused, kept true +Rustan and Rad! +Strangers approach from far +Joseph and Suleika; +Love, void of hope, is in +Ferhad and Schirin. +Born for each other are +Medschnun and Lily; +Loving, though old and grey, +Dschemil saw Boteinah. +Love's sweet caprice anon, +Brown maid + and Solomon! +If thou dost mark them well, +Stronger thy love will swell. + + 1817.* +(+ Brown maid is the Queen of Sheba.) +----- +ONE PAIR MORE. + +LOVE is indeed a glorious prize! +What fairer guerdon meets our eyes?-- +Though neither wealth nor power are thine, +A very hero thou dost shine. +As of the prophet, they will tell, +Wamik and Asia's tale as well.-- +They'll tell not of them,--they'll but give +Their names, which now are all that live. +The deeds they did, the toils they proved +No mortal knows! But that they loved +This know we. Here's the story true +Of Wamik and of Asia too. + + 1827.* +----- +LOVE's torments sought a place of rest, + +Where all might drear and lonely be; +They found ere long my desert breast, + +And nestled in its vacancy. + + 1827.* +----- +IV. TEFKIR NAME. + +BOOK OF CONTEMPLATION. + +FIVE THINGS. + +WHAT makes time short to me? + +Activity! +What makes it long and spiritless? + +'Tis idleness! +What brings us to debt? + +To delay and forget! +What makes us succeed? + +Decision with speed +How to fame to ascend? + +Oneself to defend! + + 1814 +----- +FOR woman due allowance make! + +Form'd of a crooked rib was she,-- + +By Heaven she could not straightened be. +Attempt to bend her, and she'll break; +If left alone, more crooked grows madam; +What well could be worse, my good friend, Adam?-- +For woman due allowance make; +'Twere grievous, if thy rib should break! + + 1819.* +----- +FIRDUSI (Speaks). + +OH world, with what baseness and guilt thou art rife! + +Thou nurtures, trainest, and illest the while. + +He only whom Allah doth bless with his smile +Is train'd and is nurtured with riches and life. + + 1819.* +----- +SULEIKA (Speaks). + +THE mirror tells me, I am fair! + +Thou sayest, to grow old my fate will be. +Nought in God's presence changeth e'er,-- + +Love him, for this one moment, then, in me. + + 1819.* +----- +V. RENDSCH NAME + +BOOK OF GLOOM. + +IT is a fault oneself to praise, + +And yet 'tis done by each whose deeds are kind; +And if there's no deceit in what he says, + +The good we still as good shall find. + +Let, then, ye fools, that wise man taste + +Of joy, who fancies that he s wise, +That he, a fool like you, may waste + +Th' insipid thanks the world supplies. + + 1816. +----- +VI. HIKMET NAME. + +BOOK OF PROVERBS. + +CALL on the present day and night for nought, +Save what by yesterday was brought. +----- +THE sea is flowing ever, +The land retains it never. +----- +BE stirring, man, while yet the day is clear; +The night when none can work fast Draweth near. +----- +WHEN the heavy-laden sigh, +Deeming help and hope gone by, +Oft, with healing power is heard, +Comfort-fraught, a kindly word. +----- +How vast is mine inheritance, how glorious and sublime! +For time mine own possession is, the land I till is time! +----- +UNWARY saith,--ne'er lived a man more true; +The deepest heart, the highest head he knew,-- +"In ev'ry place and time thou'lt find availing +Uprightness, judgment, kindliness unfailing." +----- +THOUGH the bards whom the Orient sun bath bless'd +Are greater than we who dwell in the west, +Yet in hatred of those whom our equals we find. +In this we're not in the least behind. +----- + +WOULD we let our envy burst, + +Feed its hunger fully first! +To keep our proper place, + + We'll show our bristles more; +With hawks men all things chase, + + Except the savage boar. +----- +BY those who themselves more bravely have fought +A hero's praise will be joyfully told. +The worth of man can only be taught +By those who have suffer'd both heat and cold. +----- +"WHEREFORE is truth so far from our eyes, +Buried as though in a distant land?" +None at the proper moment are wise! + +Could they properly understand, + +Truth would appear in her own sweet guise, +Beauteous, gentle, and close at hand. +----- +WHY these inquiries make, + +Where charity may flow? +Cast in the flood thy cake,-- + +Its eater, who will know? +----- +ONCE when I a spider had kill'd, + +Then methought: wast right or wrong? + +That we both to these times should belong, +This had God in His goodness willed. +----- +MOTLEY this congregation is, for, lo! +At the communion kneel both friend and foe. +----- +IF the country I'm to show, +Thou must on the housetop go. +----- +A MAN with households twain + +Ne'er finds attention meet, +A house wherein two women reign + +Is ne'er kept clean and neat. +----- +BLESS, thou dread Creator, + +Bless this humble fane; +Man may build them greater,-- + +More they'll not contain. +----- +LET this house's glory rise, + +Handed to far ages down, + +And the son his honour prize. +As the father his renown. +----- +O'ER the Mediterranean sea + +Proudly hath the Orient sprung; +Who loves Hafis and knows him, he + +Knows what Caldron hath sung. +----- +IF the ass that bore the Saviour + +Were to Mecca driven, he + +Would not alter, but would be +Still an ass in his behavior. +----- +THE flood of passion storms with fruitless strife + +'Gainst the unvanquished solid land.-- + +It throws poetic pearls upon the strand, +And thus is gain'd the prize of life. +----- +WHEN so many minstrels there are, + +How it pains me, alas, to know it! +Who from the earth drives poetry far? + +Who but the poet! +----- +VII. TIMUR NAME. + +BOOK OF TIMUR. + +THE WINTER AND TIMUR. + +So the winter now closed round them +With resistless fury. Scattering +Over all his breath so icy, +He inflamed each wind that blithe +To assail them angrily. +Over them he gave dominion +To his frost-unsharpened tempests; +Down to Timur's council went he, +And with threat'ning voice address'd him:-- +"Softly, slowly, wretched being! +Live, the tyrant of injustice; +But shall hearts be scorch'd much longer +By thy flames,--consume before them? +If amongst the evil spirits +Thou art one,--good! I'm another. +Thou a greybeard art--so I am; +Land and men we make to stiffen. +Thou art Mars! And I Saturnus,-- +Both are evil-working planets, +When united, horror-fraught. +Thou dost kill the soul, thou freezes +E'en the atmosphere; still colder +Is my breath than thine was ever. +Thy wild armies vex the faithful +With a thousand varying torments; +Well! God grant that I discover +Even worse, before I perish! +And by God, I'll give thee none. +Let God hear what now I tell thee! +Yes, by God! from Death's cold clutches +Nought, O greybeard, shall protect thee, +Not the hearth's broad coalfire's ardour, +Not December's brightest flame." + + 1814. +----- +TO SULEIKA. + +FITTING perfumes to prepare, + +And to raise thy rapture high, +Must a thousand rosebuds fair + +First in fiery torments die. + +One small flask's contents to glean, + +Whose sweet fragrance aye may live, +Slender as thy finger e'en, + +Must a world its treasures give; + +Yes, a world where life is moving, + +Which, with impulse full and strong, +Could forbode the Bulbul's loving, + +Sweet, and spirit-stirring song. + +Since they thus have swell'd our joy, + +Should such torments grieve us, then? +Doth not Timur's rule destroy + +Myriad souls of living men? + + 1815.* +----- +VIII. SULEIKA NAME. + +BOOK OF SULEIKA. + +ONCE, methought, in the night hours cold, + +That I saw the moon in my sleep; +But as soon as I waken'd, behold + +Unawares rose the sun from the deep. + +THAT Suleika's love was so strong + +For Joseph, need cause no surprise; + +He was young, youth pleaseth the eyes,-- + +He was fair, they say, beyond measure + +Fair was she, and so great was their pleasure. +But that thou, who awaitedst me long, +Youthful glances of fire dost throw me, +Soon wilt bless me, thy love now dost show me, +This shall my joyous numbers proclaim, +Thee I for ever Suleika shall name. + + 1815. +----- +HATEM. + +NOT occasion makes the thief; + +She's the greatest of the whole; +For Love's relics, to my grief, + +From my aching heart she stole. + +She hath given it to thee,-- + +All the joy my life had known, +So that, in my poverty, + +Life I seek from thee alone. + +Yet compassion greets me straight + +In the lustre of thine eye, +And I bless my newborn fate, + +As within thine arms I lie. + + 1815. +----- +SULEIKA. + +THE sun appears! A glorious sight! + +The crescent-moon clings round him now. +What could this wondrous pair unite? + +How to explain this riddle? How? + +HATEM. + +May this our joy's foreboder prove! + +In it I view myself and thee; +Thou calmest me thy sun, my love,-- + +Come, my sweet moon, cling thou round me! + + 1815. +----- +LOVE for love, and moments sweet, + +Lips returning kiss for kiss, +Word for word, and eyes that meet; + +Breath for breath, and bliss for bliss. +Thus at eve, and thus the morrow! + +Yet thou feeblest, at my lay, +Ever some half-hidden sorrow; +Could I Joseph's graces borrow, + +All thy beauty I'd repay! + + 1815. +----- +HATEM. + +O, SAY, 'neath what celestial sign + +The day doth lie, +When ne'er again this heart of mine + +Away will fly? +And e'en though fled (what thought divine!) + +Would near me lie?-- +On the soft couch, on whose sweet shrine + +My heart near hers will lie! + + 1816. +----- +HATEM. + +HOLD me, locks, securely caught + +In the circle of her face! +Dear brown serpents, I have nought + +To repay this act of grace, + +Save a heart whose love ne'er dies, + +Throbbing with aye-youthful glow; +For a raging ETA lies + +'Neath its veil of mist and snow. + +Yonder mountain's stately brow + +Thou, like morning beams, dost shame; +Once again feels Hatem now + +Spring's soft breath and summer's flame. + +One more bumper! Fill the glass; + +This last cup I pledge to thee!-- +By mine ashes if she pass, + +"He consumed," she'll say, "for me." + + 1815. +----- +THE LOVING ONE SPEAKS. + +AND wherefore sends not +The horseman-captain +His heralds hither + +Each day, unfailing? +Yet hath he horses, +He writes well. + +He waiteth Tali, +And Neski knows he +To write with beauty +On silken tablets. +I'd deem him present, +Had I his words. + +The sick One will not, +Will not recover +From her sweet sorrow; +She, when she heareth +That her true lover +Grows well, falls sick. + + 1819.* +----- +THE LOVING ONE AGAIN. + +WRITES he in Neski, +Faithfully speaks he; +Writes he in Tali, +Joy to give, seeks he: +Writes he in either, +Good!--for he loves! + + 1819.* +----- +THESE tufted branches fair + +Observe, my loved one, well! +And see the fruits they bear + +In green and prickly shell! + +They've hung roll'd up, till now, + +Unconsciously and still; +A loosely-waving bough + +Doth rock them at its will. + +Yet, ripening from within. + +The kernel brown swells fast; +It seeks the air to win, + +It seeks the sun at last. + +With joy it bursts its thrall, + +The shell must needs give way. +'Tis thus my numbers fall + +Before thy feet, each day. + + 1815. +----- +SULEIKA. + +WHAT is by this stir reveal'd? + +Doth the East glad tidings bring? +For my heart's deep wounds are heal'd + +By his mild and cooling wing. + +He the dust with sports doth meet, + +And in gentle cloudlets chase; +To the vineleaf's safe retreat + +Drives the insects' happy race, + +Cools these burning cheeks of mine, + +Checks the sun's fierce glow Adam, +Kisses, as he flies, the vine, + +Flaunting over hill and plain. + +And his whispers soft convey + +Thousand greetings from my friend; +Ere these hills own night's dark sway, + +Kisses greet me, without end. + +Thus canst thou still onward go, + +Serving friend and mourner too! +There, where lofty ramparts glow, + +Soon the loved one shall I view. + +Ah, what makes the heart's truth known,-- + +Love's sweet breath,--a newborn life,-- +Learn I from his mouth alone, + +In his breath alone is rife! + + 1815. +----- +THE SUBLIME TYPE. + +THE sun, whom Grecians Helms call, + +His heavenly path with pride doth tread, +And, to subdue the world's wide all, + +Looks round, beneath him, high o'er head. + +He sees the fairest goddess pine, + +Heaven's child, the daughter of the clouds,-- +For her alone he seems to shine; + +In trembling grief his form he shrouds, + +Careless for all the realms of bliss,-- + +Her streaming tears more swiftly flow: +For every pearl he gives a kiss, + +And changeth into joy her woe. + +She gazeth upward fixedly, + +And deeply feels his glance of might, +While, stamped with his own effigy, + +Each pearl would range itself aright. + +Thus wreath'd with bows, with hues thus grac'd, + +With gladness beams her face so fair, +While he, to meet her, maketh haste, + +And yet, alas! can reach her ne'er. + +So, by the harsh decree of Fate, + +Thou modest from me, dearest one; +And were I Helms e'en, the Great, + +What would avail his chariot-throne? + + 1815. +----- +SULEIKA. + +ZEPHYR, for thy humid wing, + +Oh, how much I envy thee! +Thou to him canst tidings bring + +How our parting saddens me! + +In my breast, a yearning still + +As thy pinions wave, appears; +Flow'rs and eyes, and wood, and hill + +At thy breath are steeped in tears. + +Yet thy mild wing gives relief, + +Soothes the aching eyelid's pain; +Ah, I else had died for grief, + +Him ne'er hoped to see again. + +To my love, then, quick repair, + +Whisper softly to his heart; +Yet, to give him pain, beware, + +Nor my bosom's pangs impart. + +Tell him, but in accents coy, + +That his love must be my life; +Both, with feelings fraught with joy, + +In his presence will be rife. + + 1815. +----- +THE REUNION. + +CAN it be! of stars the star, + +Do I press thee to my heart? +In the night of distance far, + +What deep gulf, what bitter smart! +Yes, 'tis thou, indeed, at last, + +Of my joys the partner dear! +Mindful, though, of sorrows past, + +I the present needs must fear. + +When the still-unfashion'd earth + +Lay on God's eternal breast, +He ordain'd its hour of birth, + +With creative joy possess'd. +Then a heavy sigh arose, + +When He spake the sentence:--"Be!" +And the All, with mighty throes, + +Burst into reality. + +And when thus was born the light, + +Darkness near it fear'd to stay, +And the elements with might + +Fled on every side away; +Each on some far-distant trace, + +Each with visions wild employ, +Numb, in boundless realm of space, + +Harmony and feeling-void. + +Dumb was all, all still and dead, + +For the first time, God alone! +Then He form'd the morning-red, + +Which soon made its kindness known: +It unravelled from the waste, + +Bright and glowing harmony, +And once more with love was grac'd + +What contended formerly. + +And with earnest, noble strife, + +Each its own Peculiar sought; +Back to full, unbounded life + +Sight and feeling soon were brought. +Wherefore, if 'tis done, explore + +How? why give the manner, name? +Allah need create no more, + +We his world ourselves can frame. + +So, with morning pinions bright, + +To thy mouth was I impell'd; +Stamped with thousand seals by night, + +Star-clear is the bond fast held. +Paragons on earth are we + +Both of grief and joy sublime, +And a second sentence:--"Be!" + +Parts us not a second time. + + 1815. +----- +SULEIKA. + +WITH what inward joy, sweet lay, + +I thy meaning have descried! +Lovingly thou seem'st to say + +That I'm ever by his side; + +That he ever thinks of me, + +That he to the absent gives +All his love's sweet ecstasy, + +While for him alone she lives. + +Yes, the mirror which reveals + +Thee, my loved one, is my breast; +This the bosom, where thy seals + +Endless kisses have impress'd. + +Numbers sweet, unsullied truth, + +Chain me down in sympathy! +Love's embodied radiant youth, + +In the garb of poesy! + + 1819.* +----- +IN thousand forms mayst thou attempt surprise, + +Yet, all-beloved-one, straight know I thee; +Thou mayst with magic veils thy face disguise, + +And yet, all-present-one, straight know I thee. + +Upon the cypress' purest, youthful bud, + +All-beauteous-growing-one, straight know I thee; +In the canal's unsullied, living flood, + +All-captivating-one, well know I thee. + +When spreads the water-column, rising proud, + +All-sportive one, how gladly know I thee; +When, e'en in forming, is transform'd the cloud, + +All-figure-changing-one, there know I thee. + +Veil in the meadow-carpet's flowery charms, + +All-checkered-starry-fair-one, know I thee; +And if a plant extend its thousand arms, + +O, all-embracing-one, there know I thee. + +When on the mount is kindled morn's sweet light, + +Straightway, all-gladdening-one, salute I thee, +The arch of heaven o'er head grows pure and bright,-- + +All-heart-expanding-one, then breathe I thee. + +That which my inward, outward sense proclaims, + +Thou all-instructing-one, I know through thee; +And if I utter Allah's hundred names, + +A name with each one echoes, meant for thee. + + 1819.* +----- +IX. SAKE NAME. + +THE CONVIVIAL BOOK. + +CAN the Koran from Eternity be? + +'Tis worth not a thought! +Can the Koran a creation, then, be? + +Of that, I know nought! +Yet that the book of all books it must be, + +I believe, as a Mussulman ought. +That from Eternity wine, though, must be, + +I ever have thought; +That 'twas ordain'd, ere the Angels, to be, + +As a truth may be taught. +Drinkers, however these matters may be, + +Gaze on God's face, fearing nought. + + 1815. +----- +YE'VE often, for our drunkenness, + +Blamed us in ev'ry way, +And, in abuse of drunkenness, + +Enough can never say. +Men, overcome by drunkenness, + +Are wont to lie till day; +And yet I find my drunkenness + +All night-time make me stray; +For, oh! 'tis Love's sweet drunkenness + +That maketh me its prey, +Which night and day, and day and night, + +My heart must needs obey,-- +A heart that, in its drunkenness, + +Pours forth full many a lay, +So that no trifling drunkenness + +Can dare assert its sway. +Love, song, and wine's sweet drunkenness, + +By night-time and by day,-- +How god-like is the drunkenness + +That maketh me its prey! + + 1815. +----- +X. MATHAL NAME. + +BOOK OF PARABLES. + +FROM heaven there fell upon the foaming wave + +A timid drop; the flood with anger roared,-- + +But God, its modest boldness to reward, +Strength to the drop and firm endurance gave. +Its form the mussel captive took, + +And to its lasting glory and renown, + +The pearl now glistens in our monarch's crown, +With gentle gleam and loving look. + + 1819.* +----- +BULBUL'S song, through night hours cold, + +Rose to Allah's throne on high; + +To reward her melody, +Giveth he a cage of gold. +Such a cage are limbs of men,-- + +Though at first she feels confin'd, + +Yet when all she brings to mind, +Straight the spirit sings again. + + 1819.* +----- +IN the Koran with strange delight +A peacock's feather met my sight: +Thou'rt welcome in this holy place, +The highest prize on earth's wide face! +As in the stars of heaven, in thee, +God's greatness in the small we see; +For he whose gaze whole worlds bath bless'd +His eye hath even here impress'd, +And the light down in beauty dress'd, +So that e'en monarchs cannot hope +In splendour with the bird to cope. +Meekly enjoy thy happy lot, +And so deserve that holy spot! + + 1815. +----- +ALL kinds of men, both small and great, +A fine-spun web delight to create, +And in the middle they take their place, +And wield their scissors with wondrous grace. +But if a besom should sweep that way: +"What a most shameful thing," they say,-- +"They've crush'd a mighty palace to-day." + + 1815. +----- +IT IS GOOD. + +IN Paradise while moonbeams play'd, + +Jehovah found, in slumber deep, +Adam fast sunk; He gently laid + +Eve near him,--she, too, fell asleep. +There lay they now, on earth's fair shrine, +God's two most beauteous thoughts divine.-- +When this He saw, He cried:--'Tis Good!!! +And scarce could move from where He stood. + +No wonder, that our joy's complete +While eye and eye responsive meet, +When this blest thought of rapture moves us-- +That we're with Him who truly loves us, +And if He cries:--Good, let it be! +'Tis so for both, it seems to me. +Thou'rt clasp'd within these arms of mine, +Dearest of all God's thoughts divine! + + 1815. +----- +XI. PARIS NAME. + +BOOK OF THE PARSEES. + +THE BEQUEST OF THE ANCIENT PERSIAN FAITH. + +BRETHREN, what bequest to you should come +From the lowly poor man, going home, +Whom ye younger ones with patience tended, +Whose last days ye honour'd and defended? + +When we oft have seen the monarch ride, +Gold upon him, gold on ev'ry side; +Jewels on him, on his courtiers all, +Thickly strewed as hailstones when they fall, + +Have ye e'er known envy at the sight? +And not felt your gaze become more bright, +When the sun was, on the wings of morning, +Darnawend's unnumber'd peaks adorning, + +As he, bow-like, rose? How each eye dwelt +On the glorious scene! I felt, I felt, +Thousand times, as life's days fleeted by, +Borne with him, the coming one, on high. + +God upon His throne then to proclaim, +Him, the life-fount's mighty Lord, to name, +Worthily to prize that glorious sight, +And to wander on beneath His light. + +When the fiery orb was all defined, +There I stood, as though in darkness, blind, +Beat my breast, my quicken'd members threw +On the earth, brow-foremost, at the view. + +Let this holy, great bequest reward +Brotherly good-will and kind regard: +SOLEMN DUTY'S DAILY observation.-- +More than this, it needs no revelation. + +If its gentle hands a new-born one +Move, then straightway turn it tow'rd the sun,-- +Soul and body dip in bath of fire! +Then each morning's favour 'twill acquire. + +To the living one, commit the dead, +O'er the beast let earth and dust be spread, +And, so far as may extend your might, +What ye deem impure, conceal from sight. + +Till your plains to graceful purity, +That the sun with joy your labours see; +When ye plant, your trees in rows contrive, +For he makes the Regular to thrive. + +E'en the floods that through the channel rush +Must not fail in fulness or in gush; +And as Senderud, from mountain high, +Rises pure, in pureness must it die. + +Not to weaken water's gentle fall, +Carefully cleanse out the channels all; +Salamander, snake, and rush, and reed,-- +All destroy,--each monster and each weed. + +If thus pure ye earth and water keep, +Through the air the sun will gladly peep, +Where he, worthily enshrined in space, +Worketh life, to life gives holy grace. + +Ye, by toil on toil so sorely tried, +Comfort take, the All is purified; +And now man, as priest, may boldly dare +From the stone God's image to prepare. + +When the flame burns joyously and bright, +Limbs are supple, radiant is the night; +On the hearth when fire with ardour glows, +Ripe the sap of plants and creatures grows. + +Dragging wood, with rapture be it done, +'Tis the seed of many an earthly sun; +Plucking Pambeh, gladly may ye say:-- +This, as wick, the Holy will convey. + +If ye meekly, in each burning lamp, +See the nobler light's resplendent stamp, +Ne'er will Fate prevent you, void of feeling, +At God's throne at morningtide from kneeling. + +This is Being's mighty signet, then, +God's pure glass to angels and to men; +Each word lisped the Highest's praise to sound, +Ring in ring, united there is found. + +From the shore of Senderud ascendeth, +Up to Darnawend its pinions bendeth, +As He dawns, with joy to greet His light, +You with endless blessings to requite. + + 1819.* +----- +XII. CHULD NAME. + +BOOK OF PARADISE. + +THE PRIVILEGED MEN. + +AFTER THE BATTLE OF BADE, BENEATH THE CANOPY OF HEAVEN. + +[This battle was fought in the second year of the Hegira (A.A. +623), between the followers of Mahomet, who numbered three +hundred and thirteen, possessing two horses and seventy camels, +and the 'idolaters,' or Meccans, whose forces amounted to nine +hundred and fifty, including two hundred cavalry. The victory +remained with Mahomet, who lost fourteen men, while seventy of +the enemy were slain. A great accession of strength ensued in +consequence to the Prophet, who pretended that miracles were +wrought in his behalf in the battle, God having sent angels to +fight on his side, and having also made his army to appear larger +to the enemy than it really was.--See the Koran, chapter viii., +and ABULFEDA'S Life of Mahomet.] + +MAHOMET (Speaks). + +LET the foeman sorrow o'er his dead, + +Ne'er will they return again to light; +O'er our brethren let no tear be shed, + +For they dwell above yon spheres so bright. + +All the seven planets open throw + +All their metal doors with mighty shock, +And the forms of those we loved below + +At the gates of Eden boldly knock. + +There they find, with bliss ne'er dream'd before, + +Glories that my flight first show'd to eye, +When the wondrous steed my person bore + +In one second through the realms on high. + +Wisdom's trees, in cypress-order growing, + +High uphold the golden apples sweet; +Trees of life, their spreading shadows throwing, + +Shade each blossoming plant, each flow'ry seat. + +Now a balmy zephyr from the East + +Brings the heavenly maidens to thy view; +With the eye thou now dost taste the feast, + +Soon the sight pervades thee through and through. + +There they stand, to ask thee thy career: + +Mighty plans? or dangerous bloody rout? +Thou'rt a hero, know they,--for Thourt here, + +What a hero?--This they'll fathom out. + +By thy wounds soon clearly this is shown, + +Wounds that write thy fame's undying story; +Wounds the true believer mark alone, + +When have perish'd joy and earthly glory. + +To chiosks and arbors thou art brought, + +Fill'd with checkered marble columns bright; +To the noble grape-juice, solace-fraught, + +They the guest with kindly sips invite. + +Youth! Thou'rt welcome more than e'er was youth + +All alike are radiant and serene; +When thou tak'st one to thine heart with truth, + +Of thy band she'll be the friend and queen. + +So prepare thee for this place of rest, + +Never can it now be changed again; +Maids like these will ever make thee blest, + +Wines like these will never harm thy brain. + + 1819. +----- +THE FAVOURED BEASTS. + +Or beasts there have been chosen four + +To come to Paradise, +And there with saints for evermore + +They dwell in happy wise. + +Amongst them all the Ass stands first; + +He comes with joyous stride, +For to the Prophet-City erst + +Did Jesus on him ride. + +Half timid next a Wolf doth creep, + +To whom Mahomet spake +"Spoil not the poor man of his sheep, + +The rich man's thou mayst take." + +And then the brave and faithful Hound, + +Who by his master kept, +And slept with him the slumbers sound + +The seven sleepers slept. + +Abuherrira's Cat, too, here, + +Purrs round his master blest, +For holy must the beast appear + +The Prophet hath caress'd. + + 1815. +----- +THE SEVEN SLEEPERS. + +Six among the courtiers favour'd +Fly before the Caesar's fury, +Who would as a god be worshipp'd, +Though in truth no god appearing, +For a fly prevents him ever +From enjoying food at table. +Though with fans his servants scare it, +They the fly can never banish. +It torments him, stings, and troubles, +And the festal board perplexes, +Then returning like the herald +Of the olden crafty Fly-God. +"What!"--the striplings say together-- +"Shall a fly a god embarrass? + +Shall a god drink, eat at table, +Like us mortals? No, the Only, +Who the sun and moon created, +And the glowing stars arch'd o'er us, +He is God,--we'll fly!"--The gentle, +Lightly shod, and dainty striplings +Did a shepherd meet, and hide them, +With himself, within a cavern. + +And the sheep-dog will not leave them,-- +Scared away, his foot all-mangled, +To his master still he presses, +And he joins the hidden party, +Joins the favorites of slumber. + +And the prince, whom they had fled from, +Fondly-furious, thinks of vengeance, +And, discarding sword and fire, +Has them walled-up in the cavern, +Walled-up fast with bricks and mortar. + +But the others slumber ever, +And the Angel, their protector, +Gives before God's throne this notice +"To the right and left alternate +Have I ever cared to turn them, +That their fair and youthful members +Be not by the mould-damp injured; +Clefts within the rocks I open'd, +That the sun may, rising, setting, +Keep their cheeks in youthful freshness." +So they lie there, bless'd by Heaven. +And, with forepaws sound and scatheless, +Sleeps the dog in gentle slumber. + +Years come round, and years fly onward, +And the youths at length awaken, +And the wall, which now had moldered, +From its very age has fallen. +And Jamblika says,--whose beauty +Far exceedeth all the others,-- +When the fearful shepherd lingers:-- +"I will run, and food procure you, +Life and piece of gold I'll wager!"-- +Ephebus had many a year now +Own'd the teaching of the Prophet +Jesus (Peace be with the Good One!) + +And he ran, and at the gateway +Were the warders and the others. +Yet he to the nearest baker's, +Seeking bread, went swiftly onwards.-- +"Rogue!" thus cried the baker--"hast thou, +Youth, a treasure, then, discover'd? +Give me,--for the gold betrays thee,-- +Give me half, to keep thy secret!"-- + +And they quarrel.--To the monarch +Comes the matter; and the monarch +Fain would halve it, like the baker. + +Now the miracle is proven +Slowly by a hundred tokens. +He can e'en his right establish +To the palace he erected, +For a pillar, when pierced open. + +Leads to wealth he said 'twould lead to. +Soon are gather'd there whole races, +Their relationship to show him. +And as great-grandfather, nobly +Stands Jamblika's youthful figure. + +As of ancestors, he hears them, +Speaking of his son and grandsons. +His great-grandsons stand around him, +Like a race of valiant mortals, +Him to honour,--him, the youngest. +And one token on another +Rises up, the proof completing; +The identity is proven +Of himself, and of his comrades. + +Now returns he to the cavern, +With him go both king and people.-- +Neither to the king nor people +E'er returns that chosen mortal; +For the Seven, who for ages-- +Eight was, with the dog, their number-- +Had from all the world been sunder'd, +Gabriel's mysterious power, +To the will of God obedient, +Hath to Paradise conducted,-- +And the cave was closed for ever. + + 1814-15. +----- + +SONGS FROM VARIOUS PLAYS, ETC + +----- +FROM FAUST. + +I. +DEDICATION. + +YE shadowy forms, again ye're drawing near, + +So wont of yore to meet my troubled gaze! +Were it in vain to seek to keep you here? + +Loves still my heart that dream of olden days? +Oh, come then! and in pristine force appear, + +Parting the vapor mist that round me plays! +My bosom finds its youthful strength again, +Feeling the magic breeze that marks your train. + +Ye bring the forms of happy days of yore, + +And many a shadow loved attends you too; +Like some old lay, whose dream was well nigh o'er, + +First-love appears again, and friendship true; +Upon life's labyrinthine path once more + +Is heard the sigh, and grief revives anew; +The friends are told, who, in their hour of pride, +Deceived by fortune, vanish'd from my side. + +No longer do they hear my plaintive song, + +The souls to whom I sang in life's young day; +Scatter'd for ever now the friendly throng, + +And mute, alas! each sweet responsive lay. +My strains but to the careless crowd belong, + +Their smiles but sorrow to my heart convey; +And all who heard my numbers erst with gladness, +If living yet, roam o'er the earth in sadness. + +Long buried yearnings in my breast arise, + +Yon calm and solemn spirit-realm to gain; +Like the AEONIAN harp's sweet melodies, + +My murmuring song breathes forth its changeful strain. +A trembling seizes me, tears fill mine eyes, + +And softer grows my rugged heart amain. +All I possess far distant seems to be, +The vanish'd only seems reality. + +II. +PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. + +THE ARCHANGELS' SONG. + +RAPHAEL. + +THE sun still chaunts, as in old time, + +With brother-spheres in choral song, +And with his thunder-march sublime + +Moves his predestined course along. +Strength find the angels in his sight, + +Though he by none may fathomed be; +Still glorious is each work of might + +As when first form'd in majesty. + +GABRIEL. + +And swift and swift, in wondrous guise, + +Revolves the earth in splendour bright, +The radiant hues of Paradise + +Alternating with deepest night. +From out the gulf against the rock, + +In spreading billows foams the ocean,-- +And cliff and sea with mighty shock, + +The spheres whirl round in endless motion. + +MICHAEL. + +And storms in emulation growl + +From land to sea, from sea to land, +And fashion, as they wildly howl, + +A circling, wonder-working band. +Destructive flames in mad career + +Precede Thy thunders on their way; +Yet, Lord, Thy messengers revere + +The soft mutations of Thy day. + +THE THREE. + +Strength find the angels in Thy sight, + +Though none may hope to fathom Thee; +Still glorious are Thy works of might, + +As when first form'd in majesty. + +III. +CHORUS OF ANGELS. + +CHRIST is arisen! + +Mortal, all hail! +Thou, of Earth's prison + +Dreary and frail, +Bursting the veil, + +Proudly hast risen! + +CHORUS OF WOMEN. + +Rich spices and myrrh, + +To embalm Him we brought; +His corpse to inter + +His true followers sought. +In pure cerements shrin'd, + +'Twas placed in the bier +But, alas! we now find + +That Christ is not here. + +CHORUS OF ANGELS. + +Christ is arisen! + +Speechless His love. +Who to Earth's prison + +Came from above, +Trials to prove. + +Now is He risen! + +CHORUS OF YOUTHS. + +Death's gloomy portal + +Now hath He rended,-- +Living, immortal, + +Heavenward ascended; +Freed from His anguish, + +Sees He God's throne; +We still must languish, + +Earthbound, alone. +Now that He's reft us, + +Heart-sad we pine; +Why hast Thou left us, + +Master divine? + +CHORUS OF ANGELS. + + +Christ is arisen, + + Death hath He slain; + +Burst ye your prison, + + Rend ye each chain! + +Songs of praise lead ye,-- + +Love to show, heed ye,-- + +Hungry ones feed ye,-- + +Preaching, on speed ye,-- + +Coming joys plead ye,-- +Then is the Master near, +Then is He here! + +IV. +CHORUS OF SPIRITS. + +VANISH, dark clouds on high, + +Offspring of night! +Let a more radiant beam +Through the blue ether gleam, + +Charming the sight! +Would the dark clouds on high + +Melt into air! +Stars glimmer tenderly, + +Planets more fair + +Shed their soft light. +Spirits of heav'nly birth, +Fairer than sons of earth, +Quivering emotions true + +Hover above; +Yearning affections, too, + +In their train move. +See how the spirit-band, +By the soft breezes fann'd, +Covers the smiling land,-- +Covers the leafy grove, +Where happy lovers rove, +Deep in a dream of love, +True love that never dies! +Bowers on bowers rise, + +Soft tendrils twine; +While from the press escapes, +Born of the juicy grapes, + +Foaming, the wine; +And as the current flows +O'er the bright stones it goes,-- +Leaving the hilly lands + +Far, far behind,-- +Into a sea expands, + +Loving to wind +Round the green mountain's base; +And the glad-winged race, + +Rapture sip in, +As they the sunny light, +And the fair islands bright, + +Hasten to win, +That on the billows play +With sweet deceptive ray, +Where in glad choral song +Shout the exulting throng; +Where on the verdant plain + +Dancers we see, +Spreading themselves amain + +Over the lea. +Some boldly climbing are + +O'er the steep brake, +Others are floating far + +O'er the smooth lake. +All for a purpose move, + +All with life teem, +While the sweet stars above + +Blissfully gleam. + +V. +MARGARET AT HER SPINNING-WHEEL. + +MY heart is sad, + +My peace is o'er; +I find it never + +And nevermore. + +When gone is he, +The grave I see; +The world's wide all +Is turned to gall. + +Alas, my head + +Is well-nigh crazed; +My feeble mind + +Is sore amazed. + +My heart is sad, + +My peace is o'er; +I find it never + +And nevermore. + +For him from the window + +Alone I spy; +For him alone + +From home go I. + +His lofty step, + +His noble form, +His mouth's sweet smile, + +His glances warm, + +His voice so fraught + +With magic bliss, +His hand's soft pressure, + +And, ah, his kiss! + +My heart is sad, + +My peace is o'er; +I find it never + +And nevermore. + +My bosom yearns + +For his form so fair; +Ah, could I clasp him + +And hold him there! + +My kisses sweet + +Should stop his breath, +And 'neath his kisses + +I'd sink in death! + +VI. +SCENE--A GARDEN, + +Margaret. Faust. + +MARGARET. + +DOST thou believe in God? + +FAUST. + + + Doth mortal live + +Who dares to say that he believes in God? +Go, bid the priest a truthful answer give, + +Go, ask the wisest who on earth e'er trod,-- +Their answer will appear to be +Given alone in mockery. + +MARGARET. + +Then thou dost not believe? This sayest thou? + +FAUST. + +Sweet love, mistake not what I utter now! +Who knows His name? +Who dares proclaim:-- +Him I believe? +Who so can feel +His heart to steel +To sari believe Him not? +The All-Embracer, +The All-Sustained, +Holds and sustains He not +Thee, me, Himself? + +Hang not the heavens their arch overhead? +Lies not the earth beneath us, firm? +Gleam not with kindly glances +Eternal stars on high? +Looks not mine eye deep into thine? +And do not all things +Crowd on thy head and heart, +And round thee twine, in mystery eterne, +Invisible, yet visible? +Fill, then, thy heart, however vast, with this, +And when the feeling perfecteth thy bliss, +O, call it what thou wilt, +Call it joy! heart! love! God! +No name for it I know! +'Tis feeling all--nought else; +Name is but sound and smoke, +Obscuring heaven's bright glow. + +VII. +MARGARET, Placing fresh flowers in the flower-pots. + + +O THOU well-tried in grief, + +Grant to thy child relief, +And view with mercy this unhappy one! + + +The sword within thy heart, + +Speechless with bitter smart, +Thou Lookest up towards thy dying son. + + +Thou look'st to God on high, + +And breathest many a sigh +O'er his and thy distress, thou holy One! + + + Who e'er can know + + The depth of woe + +Piercing my very bone? +The sorrows that my bosom fill, +Its trembling, its aye-yearning will, + +Are known to thee, to thee alone! + + +Wherever I may go, + +With woe, with woe, with woe, +My bosom sad is aching! + +I scarce alone can creep, + +I weep, I weep, I weep, +My very heart is breaking. + +The flowers at my window + +My falling tears bedewed, +When I, at dawn of morning, + +For thee these flow'rets strewed. + +When early to my chamber + +The cheerful sunbeams stole, +I sat upon my pallet, + +In agony of soul. + +Help! rescue me from death and misery! + +Oh, thou well-tried in grief, + +Grant to thy child relief, +And view with mercy my deep agony! + + +FROM FAUST--SECOND PART. + +I. + +ARIEL. + +WHEN in spring the gentle rain + +Breathes into the flower new birth, +When the green and happy plain + +Smiles upon the sons of earth, +Haste to give what help we may, + +Little elves of wondrous might! +Whether good or evil they, + +Pity for them feels the sprite. + +II. +CHORUS OF SPIRITS. + +WHEN the moist and balmy gale + +Round the verdant meadow sighs, +Odors sweet in misty veil + +At the twilight-hour arise. +Murmurings soft of calm repose + +Rock the heart to child-like rest, +And the day's bright portals close + +On the eyes with toil oppress'd. + +Night already reigns o'er all, + +Strangely star is link'd to star; +Planets mighty, sparkling small, + +Glitter near and gleam afar. +Gleam above in clearer night, + +Glitter in the glassy sea; +Pledging pure and calm delight, + +Rules the moon in majesty. + +Now each well-known hour is over, + +Joy and grief have pass'd away; +Feel betimes! thoult then recover: + +Trust the newborn eye of day. +Vales grow verdant, hillocks teem, + +Shady nooks the bushes yield, +And with waving, silvery gleam, + +Rocks the harvest in the field. + +Wouldst thou wish for wish obtain, + +Look upon yon glittering ray! +Lightly on thee lies the chain, + +Cast the shell of sleep away! +Tarry not, but be thou bold, + +When the many loiter still; +All with ease may be controll'd + +By the man of daring will. + +III. +ARIEL. + +HARK! the storm of hours draws near, +Loudly to the spirit-ear +Signs of coming day appear. +Rocky gates are wildly crashing, +Phoebus' wheels are onward dashing; + +(A wonderful noise proclaims the approach of the sun.) + + +Light doth mighty sounds beget! +Pealing loud as rolling thunder, +Eye and ear it fills with wonder, + +Though itself unconscious yet. +Downward steals it,'mongst the flowers +Seeking deeper, stiller bowers, +'Mongst the foliage, 'neath the rock; +Thou'lt be deafened by the shock! +----- +FROM FAUST--SECOND PART. + +SCENE THE LAST. + +ANGELS. +[Hovering in the higher regions of air, and hearing the immortal +part of Faust.] + +THE spirit-region's noble limb + +Hath 'scaled the Archfiend's power; +For we have strength to rescue him + +Who labours ev'ry hour. +And if he feels within his breast + +A ray of love from heaven. +He's met by all the squadron blest + +With welcome gladly given. + +THE YOUNGER ANGELS. + +Yonder roses, from the holy +Hands of penitents so lowly, +Help'd to render us victorious, +And to do the deed all-glorious; +For they gain'd us this soul-treasure. + +Evil ones those roses banish'd, + +Devils, when we met them, vanish'd. +Spirits felt love's pangs with pleasure, +Where hell's torments used to dwell; +E'en the hoary king of hell +Felt sharp torments through him run. +Shout for joy! the prize is won. + +THE MORE PERFECT ANGELS. + +Strains of mortality + +Long have oppress'd us; +Pure could they ever be, + +If of asbestos. +If mighty spirit-strength + +Elements ever +Knew how to seize at length, + +Angels could never +Link'd twofold natures move, + +Where single-hearted; +By nought but deathless love + +Can they be parted. + +THE YOUNGER ANGELS. + +See where a spirit-race + +Bursts on the sight! +Dimly their forms I trace + +Round the far height. +Each cloud becometh clear, +While the bright troops appear + +Of the blest boys, + +From the Earth's burden free, +In a glad company + +Drinking in joys, +Born of the world above, + +Springtime and bliss. +May they forerunners prove +Of a more perfect love, + +Link'd on to this! + +THE BEATIFIED CHILDREN. + +Thus as a chrysalis + +Gladly we gain him, +And as a pledge of bliss + +Safely retain him; +When from the shell he's free + +Whereby he's tainted, +Perfect and fair he'll be, + +Holy and sainted. + +DOCTOR MARINAS. +(In the highest, purest cell.) + +Wide is the prospect here, + +Raised is the soul; +Women on high appear, + +Seeking their goal. + +'Mongat them the radiant one, + +Queen of the skies, +In her bright starry crown + +Greets my glad eyes. + + + (With ecstasy.) + +Thou who art of earth the queen. + +Let me, 'neath the blue +Heav'nly canopy serene + +Thy sweet mystery view! +Grant the gentle solemn force + +Which the breast can move. +And direct our onward course + +Tow'rd thy perfect love. +Dauntless let our courage be, + +At thy bright behest; +Mild our ardour suddenly, + +When thou bidd'st us rest. +Virgin, type of holiness, + +Mother, honour-crown'd, +Thou whom we as queen confess, + +Godlike and renowned. + +Round her, in gentle play, + +Light clouds are stealing; +Penitents fair are they, + +Who, humbly kneeling, +Sip in the ether sweet, + As they for grace entreat. + +Thou, who art from passions free, + +Kindly art inclin'd, +When the sons of frailty + +Seek thee, meek in mind. + +Borne by weakness' stream along, + +Hard it is to save them; +Who can burst lust's chains so strong, + +That, alas, enslave them? +O how soon the foot may slip, + +When the smooth ground pressing! +O, how false are eye and lip, + +False a breath caressing! + + + MATER GLORLOSA hovers past. + +CHORUS OF PENITENT WOMEN. + +To bring realms on high + +In majesty soaring, +O, hark to our cry + +Thy pity imploring, +Thou help to the cheerless, +In glory so peerless! + +MAGNA PECCATRIX (St. Luke vii. 36). + +By the love, which o'er the feet + +Of thy God-transfigur'd Son +Dropp'd the team, like balsam sweet, + +Spite of ev'ry scornful one; +By the box of ointment rare, + +Whence the drops so fragrant fell; +By the locks, whose gentle care + +Dried His holy members well-- + +muller SAMARITANA (St, John iv.). + +By the well where Abram erst + +Drove his flocks to drink their fill; +By the bucket which the thirst + +Of the Saviour served to still; +By the fountain, balm-exhaling, + +That from yon bright region flows, +Ever clear and never failing. + +As round ev'ry world it goes-- + +MARIA AEGYPTIACA (Acta Sanctorum). + +By the sacred spot immortal, + +Where the Lord's remains they plac'd; +By the arm, that from the portal + +Drove me back with warning haste; +By my forty years of lowly + +Penance in a desert land; +By the farewell greetings holy + +That I wrote upon the sand-- + +THE THREE. + +Thou who ne'er thy radiant face + +From the greatest sinners hides, +Thou who Thine atoning grace + +Through eternity provident, + +Let this soul, by virtue stirr'd, + +Self-forgetful though when living, +That perceived not that it err'd, + +Feel thy mercy, sin forgiving! + +UNA POENITENTIUM. +(Once named Margaret, pressing near them.) + + +Oh radiance-spreading One, + +Who equall'd art by none, +In mercy view mine ecstasy! + +For he whom erst I loved, + +No more by sorrow proved, +Returns at length to me! + +BEATIFIED CHILDREN. +(Approaching as they hover round.) + +He now in strength of limb + +Far doth outweigh us, +And, as we tended him, + +So will repay us. +Early removed were we + +Far from life's story; +Train'd now himself, will he + +Train us in glory. + +THE PENITENT, once named Margaret. + +Link'd with the noble band of spirits, + +Scarce can the new one feel or see +The radiant life he now inherits, + +So like that holy band is he. +See how he bursts each bond material, + +And parts the olden veil at length,-- +In vesture clad of grace ethereal, + +Comes in the glow of youthful strength. +Oh, let me guide his steps victorious, + +While dazzled by the new-born light. + +MATER GLORIOSA. + +Come! raise thyself to spheres more glorious, +He'll follow when thou matzoth his sight. + +DOCTOR MARINAS. +(Prostrated in adoration.) + +O repentant sinful ones, + +On that bright face gaze ye, +And, in grateful orisons, + +Your blest fortune praise ye! +Be each virtue of the mind + +To thy service given! +Virgin, mother, be thou kind! + +Goddess, queen of heaven! + +CHORUS MYSTICS. + +Each thing of mortal birth + +Is but a type +What was of feeble worth + +Here becomes ripe. +What was a mystery + +Here meets the eye; +The ever-womanly + +Draws us on high. + + (Finis.) +----- +FROM IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS. + +ACT IV. SCENE 5. + +SONG OF THE FATES. + +YE children of mortals +The deities dread! +The mastery hold they +In hands all-eternal, +And use them, unquestioned, +What manner they like. + +Let him fear them doubly, +Whom they have uplifted! +On cliffs and on clouds, oh, +Round tables all-golden, +he seats are made ready. + +When rises contention, +The guests are humid downwards +With shame and dishonor +To deep depths of midnight, +And vainly await they, +Bound fast in the darkness, +A just condemnation. + +But they remain ever +In firmness unshaken +Round tables all-golden. +On stride they from mountain +To mountain far distant: +From out the abysses' +Dark jaws, the breath rises +Of torment-choked Titans +Up tow'rds them, like incense +In light clouds ascending. + +The rulers immortal +Avert from whole peoples +Their blessing-fraught glances, +And shun, in the children, +To trace the once cherish'd, +Still, eloquent features +Their ancestors wore. + +Thus chanted the Parae; +The old man, the banish'd, +In gloomy vault lying, +Their song overheareth, +Sons, grandsons remembereth, +And shaketh his head. +----- +FROM GOTZ VON BERLICHINGEN. + +ACT II. + +LIEBETRAUT plays and sings. + +HIS bow and dart bearing, +And torch brightly flaring, + + Dan Cupid on flies; +With victory laden, +To vanquish each maiden + + He roguishly tries. + + Up! up! + + On! on! +His arms rattle loudly, +His wings rustle proudly, +And flames fill his eyes. + +Then finds he each bosom + +Defenseless and bare; +They gladly receive him + +And welcome him there. +The point of his arrows + +He lights in the glow; +They clasp him and kiss him + +And fondle him so. +He e o! Pap! + +FROM EGMONT. + +ACT I. + +CLARA winds a skein, and sings with Brackenburg. + +THE drum gives the signal! + +Loud rings the shrill fife! +My love leads his troops on + +Full arm'd for the strife, +While his hand grasps his lance +As they proudly advance. + +My bosom pants wildly! +My blood hotly flows! +Oh had I a doublet, +A helmet, and hose! + +Through the gate with bold footstep + +I after him hied,-- +Each province, each country + +Explored by his side. +The coward foe trembled + Then rattled our shot: +What bliss e'er resembled + +A soldier's glad lot! + +ACT III. + +CLARA sings. + + + Gladness + + And sadness +And pensiveness blending + + Yearning + + And burning +In torment ne'er ending; + +Sad unto death, +Proudly soaring above; + +Happy alone +Is the soul that doth love! + +FROM "WILHELM MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP." + +BOOK II., CHAP. XIII. + +WHO never eat with tears his bread, + +Who never through night's heavy hours +Sat weeping on his lonely bed,-- + +He knows you not, ye heavenly powers! + +Through you the paths of life we gain, + +Ye let poor mortals go astray, +And then abandon them to pain,-- + +E'en here the penalty we pay, +----- +WHO gives himself to solitude, + +Soon lonely will remain; +Each lives, each loves in joyous mood, + +And leaves him to his pain. + +Yes! leave me to my grief! +Were solitude's relief + +E'er granted me, + +Alone I should not be. + +A lover steals, on footstep light, + +To learn if his love's alone; +Thus o'er me steals, by day and night, + +Anguish before unknown, +Thus o'er me steals deep grief. +Ah, when I find relief + +Within the tomb so lonely, + +Will rest be met with only! +----- +BOOK IV., CHAP. XI. + +My grief no mortals know, + +Except the yearning! +Alone, a prey to woe, + +All pleasure spurning, +Up tow'rds the sky I throw + +A gaze discerning. + +He who my love can know + +Seems ne'er returning; +With strange and fiery glow + +My heart is burning. +My grief no mortals know, + +Except the yearning! +----- +BOOK V., CHAP. X. + +SING no more in mournful tones + +Of the loneliness of night; +For 'tis made, ye beauteous ones, + +For all social pleasures bright. + +As of old to man a wife + +As his better half was given, +So the night is half our life, + +And the fairest under heaven. + +How can ye enjoy the day, + +Which obstructs our rapture's tide? +Let it waste itself away; + +Worthless 'tis for aught beside. + +But when in the darkling hours + +From the lamp soft rays are glowing, +And from mouth to mouth sweet showers, + +Now of jest, now love, are flowing,-- + +When the nimble, wanton boy, + +Who so wildly spends his days, +Oft amid light sports with joy + +O'er some trifling gift delays,Ä + +When the nightingale is singing + +Strains the lover holds so dear, +Though like sighs and wailings ringing + +In the mournful captive's ear,-- + +With what heart-emotion blest + +Do ye hearken to the bell, +Wont of safety and of rest + +With twelve solemn strokes to tell! + +Therefore in each heavy hour, + +Let this precept fill your heart: +O'er each day will sorrow loud, + +Rapture ev'ry night impart. +----- +EPILOGUE TO SCHILLER'S "SONG OF THE BELL." + +[This fine piece, written originally in 1805, on Schiller's +death, was altered and recast by Goethe in 1815, on the occasion +of the performance on the stage of the Song of the Bell. Hence +the allusion in the last verse.] + + To this city joy reveal it! + + Peace as its first signal peal it! + + (Song of the Bell--concluding lines.) + +AND so it proved! The nation felt, ere long, + +That peaceful signal, and, with blessings fraught, +A new-born joy appear'd; in gladsome song + +To hail the youthful princely pair we sought; +While in a living, ever-swelling throng + +Mingled the crowds from ev'ry region brought, +And on the stage, in festal pomp array'd +The HOMAGE OF THE ARTS * we saw displayed. + +(* The title of a lyric piece composed by Schiller in honour of +the marriage of the hereditary Prince of Weimar to the Princess +Maria of Russia, and performed in 1804.) + +When, lo! a fearful midnight sound I hear, + +That with a dull and mournful echo rings. +And can it be that of our friend so dear + +It tells, to whom each wish so fondly clings? +Shall death overcome a life that all revere? + +How such a loss to all confusion brings! +How such a parting we must ever rue! +The world is weeping,--shall not we weep too? + +He was our own! How social, yet how great + +Seem'd in the light of day his noble mind! +How was his nature, pleasing yet sedate, + +Now for glad converse joyously incline, +Then swiftly changing, spirit-fraught, elate, + +Life's plan with deep-felt meaning it design'd, +Fruitful alike in counsel and in deed! +This have we proved, this tasted, in our need. + +He was our own! O may that thought so blest + +Overcome the voice of wailing and of woe +He might have sought the Lasting, safe at rest + +In harbour, when the tempest ceased to blow. +Meanwhile his mighty spirit onward press'd + +Where goodness, beauty, truth, for ever grow; +And in his rear, in shadowy outline, lay +The vulgar, which we all, alas, obey! + +Now doth he deck the garden-turret fair + +Where the stars' language first illuded his soul, +As secretly yet clearly through the air + +On the eterne, the living sense it stole; +And to his own, and our great profit, there + +Exchangeth he the seasons as they roll; +Thus nobly doth he vanquish, with renown, +The twilight and the night that weigh us down. + +Brighter now glow'd his cheek, and still more bright. + +With that unchanging, ever-youthful glow,-- +That courage which overcomes, in hard-fought fight, + +Sooner or later, ev'ry earthly foe-- +That faith which, soaring to the realms of light, + +Now boldly Presseth on, now bendeth low, +So that the good may work, wax, thrive amain, +So that the day the noble may attain. + +Yet, though so skill'd, of such transcendent worth, + +This boarded scaffold doth he not despise; +The fate that on its axis turns the earth + +From day to night, here shows he to our eyes, +Raising, through many a work of glorious birth, + +Art and the artist's fame up tow'rd the skies. +He fills with blossoms of the noblest strife, +With life itself, this effigy of life. + +His giant-step, as ye full surely knew, + +Measured the circle of the will and deed, +Each country's changing thoughts and morals too, + +The darksome book with clearness could he read; +Yet how he, breathless 'midst his friends so true, + +Despaired in sorrow, scarce from pain was freed,-- +All this have we, in sadly happy years, +For he was ours, bewailed with feeling tears. + +When from the agonizing weight of grief + +He raised his eyes upon the world again, +We show'd him how his thoughts might find relief + +From the uncertain present's heavy chain, +Gave his fresh-kindled mind a respite brief, + +With kindly skill beguiling ev'ry pain, +And e'en at eve, when setting was his sun, +From his wan cheeks a gentle smile we won. + +Full early had he read the stern decree, + +Sorrow and death to him, alas, were known; +Ofttimes recovering, now departed he,-- + +Dread tidings, that our hearts had fear'd to own! +Yet his transfigured being now can see + +Itself, e'en here on earth, transfigured grown. +What his own age reproved, and deem'd a crime, +Hath been ennobled now by death and time. + +And many a soul that with him strove in fight, + +And his great merit grudged to recognise, +Now feels the impress of his wondrous might, + +And in his magic fetters gladly lies; +E'en to the highest bath he winged his flight, + +In close communion link'd with all we prize. +Extol him then! What mortals while they live +But half receive, posterity shall give. + +Thus is he left us, who so long ago,-- + +Ten years, alas, already!--turn'd from earth; +We all, to our great joy, his precepts know, + +Oh may the world confess their priceless worth! +In swelling tide tow'rd every region flow + +The thoughts that were his own peculiar birth; +He gleams like some departing meteor bright, +Combining, with his own, eternal light. +----- + +L'ENVOl. + +----- +Now, gentle reader, is our journey ended, + +Mute is our minstrel, silent is our song; +Sweet the bard's voice whose strains our course attended, + +Pleasant the paths he guided us along. +Now must we part,--Oh word all full of sadness, +Changing to pensive retrospect our gladness! + +Reader, farewell! we part perchance for ever, + +Scarce may I hope to meet with thee again; +But e'en though fate our fellowship may sever, + +Reader, will aught to mark that tie remain? +Yes! there is left one sad sweet bond of union,-- +Sorrow at parting links us in communion. + +But of the twain, the greater is my sorrow,-- + +Reader, and why?--Bethink thee of the sun, +How, when he sets, he waiteth for the morrow, + +Proudly once more his giant-race to run,-- +Yet, e'en when set, a glow behind him leaving, +Gladdening the spirit, which had else been grieving. + +Thus mayst thou feel, for thou to GOETHE only + +Baldest farewell, nor camest aught for me. +Twofold my parting, leaving me all lonely,-- + +I now must part from GOETHE and from thee, +Parting at once from comrade and from leader,-- +Farewell, great minstrel! farewell, gentle reader! + +Hush'd is the harp, its music sunk in slumbers, +Memory alone can waken now its numbers. + + + + + +End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Poems of Goethe, Bowring, Tr. + diff --git a/1287.zip b/1287.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d29fb9c --- /dev/null +++ b/1287.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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