V?" CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF W. C. Andrae DATE DUE 0^i»^ M 7 ^ f 4 r Syi & S re ~**~j rt~» Cornell University Library PT2026.A3B781874 The poems of Goethe / 3 1924 006 395 101 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924006395101 THE POEMS OF GOETHE TKANSLATED IN THE ORIGINAL METKES. BT EDGAR ALFRED BOWRrNG, C.B. NEW YORK: HURST & CO., PUBLISHERS i?3 Nassau Street. 4— THE TRANSLATOR'S ORIGINAL DEDICATION. TO THE COUNTESS GEANVTLLE. My deae Lady Gbahvole, — 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 in- evitably 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 permis- sion to have your name inscribed upon this page serves to attain «, twofold end — one direct arid personal, and relating to the present day ; the other reflected and historical, and be- longing to times long gone by. Of the first little need now be said, for the privilege is wholly mine, in making this dedi- cation : as to the second, one word of explanation will suffice for those who have made the greatest poet of Germany, al- most of the world, their study, and to whom the story of his life is not unknown. All who have followed the career of Goetkb are familiar with the name and character of D aibebo. IT DEDICATION. and also with the deep and lasting friendship that existed be- tween them, from which Sohtlleb too was not absent ; re- calling 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 an- cestor and him whom it is the object of these pages to repre- sent, 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), inas- much 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, Edgab A. Bowsing. Londpn, April, 1853. OEIGINAL PKEFAOE. I peel no small reluctance in venturing to give to the publio a work of the character of that indicated by the title page to the present volume ; for, difficult as it must always be to ren- der satisfactorily into one's own tongue the writings of the bards of other lands, the responsibility assumed by the trans- lator 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. Pre-eminently 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 be- fore us, not as a mere individual, like those whom the world is wont to call great, but as a type, as an emblem — the re- cognized emblem and representative of the human mind in its present stage of culture and advancement. Among the infinitely varied effusions of Goethe's pen, per- haps 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 uni- versally 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*3trongly resembling her sister in bo 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 IFcwat, 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 ob- ject of the present volume to lay before the reader, whose in- dulgence is requested for its many imperfections. In addi- tion 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 diffi- culty that has deterred others from undertaking the task I have set myself, and in which I do not pretend to do more VI OKIGINAL PEEPA.OE. than attempt to give an idea of the minstrelsy of one so m. rivalled, 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 mav perhaps be thought that the present translations go almost to the other extreme, and that a rendering of metre for metre, line for line, and word for wordimakes 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 the universal, approval of (he reader. At the same time, I have endeavored 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 frienrlly 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 Oedichte, 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 possi- ble ; 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 OMQINAL PBEPAOD. been, on consideration, left out by mo, owing to their trifling and uninteresting nature). The same may be said of the Odes s Sonnets, Miscellaneous Poems, &o. 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 various Songs found in his Plays, making a total number of about 400 Poems em- braced 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 IJiat 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 which 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 charac- ter. "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 wel- come 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) laborer 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 ex- tent 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 title 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. PAGE Obiginal Dedication iii Original Preface v Preface to the Second Edi- tion ix List of the principal Works of Goethe xv Author's Dedication 17 SONGS. Sound, sweet Song, from some far Land 21 To the kind Header 21 To the New Amadis 22 When the Fox dies, his Skin counts 23 TheHeathrose 23 Blindman's Buff 24 Christel 25 The Coy One 26 The Convert 26 Preservation 27 The Muses' Son 28 Found 29 Like and Like 29 Beciprqcal Invitation to the Dance 30 Self-Deceit 31 Declaration of War 31 Lover in all Shapes 32 The Goldsmith's Appren- tice....* 33 Answers in a Game of Questions 35 PAGE Different Emotions on the same Spot 36 Who'll buy Gods of Love ? 37 The Misanthrope 38 Different Threats 39 Maiden Wishes 39 Motives 39 True Enjoyment 40 The Farewell 41 The Beautiful Night 42 Happiness and Vision 42 Living Kemembrance 43 The Bliss of Absence 44 To Luna 44 The Wedding Night 45 Mischievous Joy 46 Apparent Death 4C November Song 47 To the Chosen One 47 First Loss 48 After-Sensations 48 Proximity of the Beloved One 49 Presence 49 To the Distant One 50 By the Biver 50 Farewell 50 The Exchange 51 Welcome and Farewell 51 New Love, New Life 52 To Belinda 53 May Song 64 With a painted Ribbon 55 COSTTESreS. PAGE With a golden Necklace. ...5 6 On the Lak General Confession 96 Coptic Song 97 Another, ( 98 Vanitusl vanitatum vanitas.98 Fortuneof War 100 Open Table lol The Reckoning 103 Ergo Bibamus 105 Epiphanias 106 Mignon 1"8 The Minstrel 109 Ballad of the banished and returning Count 110 The Violet 113 The Faithless Boy 113 TheErl-King 114 Johanna Sebus 116 The Fisherman 117 The King of Thule 118 The Beauteous Flower 119 Sir Curt's Wedding Jour- ney 121 Wedding Song 122 The Treasure-digger 124 The Bat-catoher 125 The Spinner 126 Before a Court of Justice. 127 The Page and the Miller's Daughter 128 CONTENTS. PAGE The Youth and the Mill- stream 129 The Maid of the Mill's Treachery 131 The Maid of the Mill's Re- pentance 133 TKe Traveller and the Farm Maiden ,136 Effects at a distance 138 The walking Bell 139 Faithful Eckart 140 The Dance of Death 142 The Pupil in Magic 143 The Bride of Corinth...,. 146 The God and the Bayadere. 151 The Parah:— I. The Parah's Prayer.. 154 II. Legend 154 III. The Parah's Thanks.. .158 Death-lament of the noble Wife of Asan Aga 159 CANTATAS. IdyU 162 Rinaldo 165 The First Walpurgis- night 169 ODES. Three Odes to my Friend. 173 • Mahomet's Song 177 Spirit Song over the Waters 179 My Goddess 180 Winter Journey over the Havtz Mountains 182 To Father Kronos. Writ- ten in a Post-chaise 184 The Wanderer's Storm Song..... 186 The Sea-Voyage 189 The Eagle and Dove 190 Prometheus 191 Ganymede 193 The Boundaries of Human- ity 194 The Godlike 193 PAGE MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. The German Parnassus... 197 Lily's Menagerie 203 To Charlotte 206 Love's Distresses 208 The Musagetes 208 Morning Lament 209 The Visit 211 The Magic Net 212 The Goblet 213 To the Grasshopper 214 From the Sorrows of Young Werther 215 Trilogy of Passion: — I. To Werther 215 II. Elegy 217 III. Atonement 220 The Eemembrance of the Good 221 When I was still a youthful Wight 221 For Ever 222 From an Album of 1604 ..222 Lines on seeing Schiller's Skull 222 On the Divan 223 Royal Prayer 224 Human Feelings 224 Hans Sachs' Poetical Mis- sion 224 SONNETS. The Friendly Meeting 230 In a Word 230 The Maiden Speaks 231 Growth 231 Food in Travel 232 Departure 232 The Loving One Writes.. .233 The Loving One once more 233 She cannot end 234 Nemesis 234 The Christmas-Box 235 The Warning ,....g35 PAGE The Epochs 236 The Doubter and the Lov- ers 286 Charade 237 EPIGP.AMS. The Originals 238 The Soldier's Consolation. 233 Genial Impulse 238 Neither this nor that 239 The way to behave 239 The best 239 As broad as it's long 239 The Rule of Life 240 The same, expanded 240 Calm at Sea 241 The Prosperous Voyage . . 241 Courage 241 Admonition 242 My only Property 242 Old Age 242 Epitaph 242 Rule for Monarchs 243 Paulo post futuri 243 The Pool's Epilogue 243 PARABLES. Joy 245 Explanation of Antique Gem 245 Cat-pie 246 Legend 247 Authors 247 The Critic 248 The Dilettante and Critic. 248 The Wrangler 249 The Yelpers 250 The Stork's Vocation 250 Celebrity 250 Playing at Priests 251 Songs 252 Poetry 253 A Parable 253 Should e'er the loveless day remain 254 PAGE A Plan the Muses entertain- ed 254 The Death of the Fly 254 By the River 255 The Fox and Crane 2i,5 The Fox and Huntsman... 256 The Frogs 256 The Wedding 257 Burial.. 257 Threatening Signs 257 The Buyers 258 The Mountain Village 258 Symbols 259 Three Palinodias : — I. The Smoke that from thine Alter blows.. ..259 IT. Conflict of "Wit and Beauty 259 III. Rain aDd Rainbow 259 Valediction 2C0 The Country Schoolmaster. 262 The Legend of the Horse- shoe 263 A Symbol 265 AET. The Drops of Nectar 266 The Wanderer 267 Love as a Landscape Paint- er 272 GOD, BOTJL, AKD WORLD. Rhymed Distichs 275 Procemion 276 The Metamorphosis of Plants 277 Pbovebes 280 TameXenia .281 beligion and church Thoughts on Jesus Christ's descent into Hell 282 ANTIQUES. Leopold, Duke of Bruns- wick 287 CONTENTS. XU1 PAGE To the Husbandman 287 Anaoreon's Grave 287 The Brethren 288 Measure of Time 288 Warning 288 Solitude 289 Vhe Chosen Cliff 289 The Consecrated Spot 289 The Instructors 290 The Unequal Marriage ....290 Excuse 290 Sakontala 291 The Muse's Mirror 291 Phoebus and Hermes 291 The New Amor : 292 The Garlands 292 The Swiss Alps 293 Distichs 293 Venetian Epigbahs 204 Part I.— Roman Elegies. ...298 Part II. — Alexis and Dora.302 Hermann and Dorothea. ..309 WEST-.EASTEBN DIVAN. I. Book of the Minstrel:— Talismans ....394 The Four Favors . . .394 Discord 395 Song and Structure. 395 II. Book of Hans:— The Unlimited 396 To Hans 396 III. Book of Love:— The Types 397 One Pair more 398 Love's Torments sought a Place of Best 398 W. Book of Contempla- tion: — Five Things 398 For Woman due al- lowance make 399 PAGE Firdusi 399 Suleika 399 V. Book of Gloom : — It is a Fault One's self to praise 399 VI. Book of Proverbs. ...400 VII. Book of Timur :— The Winter and Ti- mur 403 To Suleika 404 VIII. Book of Suleika :— That Suleika's Love was so strong ... 404 Hatem 405 .Suleika and Hatem 406 Love for Love, and Moments sweet. . 405 Hatem 406 Hatem 406 The Loving One speaks 407 The Lovmg One again 407 These tufted Branches fair 407 Suleika 408 The Sublime Type. 409 Suleika 409 The Reunion 410 Suleika 411 In Thousand Forms mayst thou at- tempt surprise ...412 IX. The Convival Book:— Can the Koran from Eternity be 413 Ye've often for our Drunkenness.. . 413 X. Book of Parables: — From Heaven there fell upon the foaming Wave. ..414 Bulbul's Song, through Night- hours cold 414 CONTENTS. PAGE In the Koran ■with strange delight.. .414 AH kinds of Men both Small and Great 414 It is Good 415 XI. Book of the Parse es : — The Bequest of the Ancient Persian Faith 415 XII. Book of Paradise: — The Privileged Men418 ThePavored Beasts .419 The Seven Sleepers.420 SONGS EROM VABI0TJS PLATS, 40. From Fanst : — Dedication 423 Prologue in Heaven. 424 Chorus of Angels &c425 Chorus of Spirits .... 426 Margaret at her Spinning Wheel. 428 Garden Scene 429 Margaret's Song.. ..423 PA&B From Faust — Second Parti- Ariel's Song and Chorus of Spirits 431 Scene the last 433 From Iphigenia in Tauris : — Song of the Pates.. .439 From Gotz von Berlichingen: Liebetraut's Song. ..440 From Egmont: — Clara and Bracken- burg's Song 441 Clara's Song , ... 441 From Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship: — Who never eat with tears his bread.... 442 Who gives himself to Solitude 442 My Grief no Mor- tals know 442 Sing no more in mournful tones. ..443 Epilogue to Schiller's Song of the Bell 444 L'Emvoi 447 LIST OP THE PRINCIPAL WORKS OF GOETHE, WITH THE DATES OF THEIR COMPOSITION. L DRAMATIC WORKS. TITLE. DESOBIPTION. . DATE. The Lover's Whim Pastoral drama 17B7-8 The Accomplices Comedy 1769 Satyros, or the Deified Satyr. . .Drama 1774 Plundersweilern Fair Puppet-show 1774 Prometheus Dramatic Fragment 1773 Faust, Parti Tragedy 1773-1806 " Part II Tragedycompl'tdin 1831 Elpenor, a Fragment Tragedy -..1781-3 Iphigenia auf Tauris Classical drama 1786-7 Torquato Tasso Classical drama 1787-9 The NaturalDaughter Tragedy 1799-1803 Gotz von Berlichmgen Prose drama 1773 Egmont Tragedy 1775-87 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 1775-88 Claudine von Villa Bella Melodrama 1775-88 Jery and Bately Melodrama 1779 Lila Melodrama 1777-8 The Fisher Girl Melodrama 1782 Sport, Cunning, andKevenge Opera Buffa 1 785 What we're Bringing Prelude 1802 Pandora..., Drama 1807-8 In addition to the above, there are nearly 20 minor dramatic pieces. xvi • lis* oS 1 goethe's pmncipaIi wobXS. H. PEOSE WOBKS. TITLE. DATE. E M ANDES AND KoTELS : — Sorrows of "Werther 1774 The Elective Affinities 1809 WilhelmMeister's Apprenticeship 1777-96 Wilhelin Meister's Wanderings 1807-29 Conversations of German Emigrants 1793-5 Notes on "Winckelmann , 1805 Life of Philip Hackert 1810-11 Life of Benvenuto Cellini (Translation) 1796-1803 Autobiography : 1811-31 Letters from Switzerland 1775-180« Tour in Italy 1786-1817 French Campaign 1792-1S22 Annals 1819-25 Art and Antiquity 1815-28 Theory of Colors 1790-1810 In addition to the above, Goethe produced an almost end- less number of translations, criticisms, essays, &c. m. POETICAL WORKS. Other than those embraced in the plan of the present volume. TITLE. DATE. Masonic Songs (7) 1815-30 Poems on Pictures (21) 1819, &o. Invectives (44) 1802-24 Political Poems (54) 1814 &c. Masques (14) 1776-1818 Poems in the name of the citizens of Carlsbad (7) . . . .1810-12 Poems on Individuals, &c.,(209) 1778-1831 Chinese-German Poems (14) 1827 Prophecies of Bakis (33) 1798 The Eour Seasons (99) 179g Epistles (3) ; 1794 Achilles — Canto I .....1798-9 Keineke Fuchs 1793 Theatrical Prologues and Epilogues (12, including the Epilogue to the Song of the Bell, given in this Tolume) ; 1782-1821 THE POEMS OF GOETHE. DEDICATION. The morn arrived ; his footstep quickly soared The gentle sleep that round my senses clung, And I, awak'rting, from my cottage fared, And Tip the mountain's side my light heart sprung ; At ev'ry step I felt my gaze ensnared By new-born flow'rs that full of dewdrops hung ; The youthful day awoke with ecstasy, 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, Then 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 of ttimes was renew'd, Then blinded by a dazzling glow I stood. 18 DEDICATION. 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 born 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 know'st me well ; thy panting heart I led To join me in a bond of 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 olaim'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 [ " ■m DEDICATION. 19 " Oh, pardon me ! " I cried, " I meant it -well ; Not vainly didst 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 godlike one ; Within her eye full plainly could I trace What I had f ail'd in, and w,hat 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 ,• 20 DEDICAflTON. 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 oong, 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/ TO THE KIND EEADEE. 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.* * 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. (22) 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. Tet thou drov'st away my gloom, Golden phantasy ! X became a hero true, Like the Prince Pipi, And the world roam'd through. Many a crystal palace built, Orush'd them with like art, A-ad 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 wino ; Almost unto death I loved. Suns 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/ THE HEATHROSE. 23 WHEN THE POX DIES, HIS SKIN COUNTS.* We young people in the shade Sat one sultry day ; Oiipid came, and "Dies the Fox " With us sought to play. Each one of my friends then sat By his mistress dear ; Oupid, blowing out the torch, Said, " The taper's here ! " Then we quickly sent around The expiring brand ; Each one put it hastily In 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 Eox Livelier still became. 1770. THE HEATHEOSE. Once a boy a Bosebud spied, Heathrose fair and tender, All array'd in youthful pride, — Quickly to the spot he hied, Bavished by her splendour. Bosebud, rosebud, rosebud red, Heathrose fair and tender ! * The name of a game, known in English as " Jack's alight. 24 bltndman's buff. 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 ! " Bosebud, rosebud, rosebud red Heathrose fair and tender ! Now the cruel boy must pick Heathrose fair and tender ; Eosebud did her best to prick, — Vain 'twas 'gainst her fate to kick — She must needs surrender. Eosebud, 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. (25) CHKISTEL. 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, Buns 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. 26 THE CONVEBT. 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, Boam'd a shepherdess and sang ; Young and beauteous free from care, Through the fields her clear notes rang So, la, la ! le ralla, &c. Of his lambs some two or three Thyrais offer'd for a kiss ; First she eyed him roguishly, Then for answer sang but this : So, la, la ! le ralla, &c. Eibbons 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 la ! le ralla, &c. 1791. • THE CONVEBT. 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, la ! &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 I &o. PRESERVATION. ' 27 All my peace for aye has fleeted, All my happiness has flown ; Tet my ears are ever greeted With that olden, blissful tone, So la, la ! &c. 1791. PEESEBVATION. 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 tum'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 talk'd of death no more. 1775*, (28) THE MUSES' SON. [Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in his Autobiog- raphy, as expressing the manner in which his poetieaj 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 blossom bright ; And when his blossoms fly, Fresh raptures meet mine eye, Dpon the well-tiil'd height. When 'neath the linden tree, Young 1 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, Te kindly Muses, rest, And cease at length to roam ? 1800. * LIKE AND T. TK-H 29 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 up 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 (30) KECTPBOCAL 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 feasts be ? Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance ? If thou my sweetheart wert not, I would dance not, If thou are 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.* DECLARATION OP WAR. 31 SELF-DECEIT. My neighbour's curtain, well I see, Is moving to- and fro. 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 nourished 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. 32 LOVER IN ALL SHAPES. My hat now is yellow, My bodice like snow ; The clover to sickle With others I go. Something pretty, ere 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, Aid he looks in my face. The town girl now threatens You maidens with war ; Her two-fold charms pledges Of victory are. 180a LOVER IN ALL SHAPES. To be like a fish, Brisk and quick, is my wish ; If thou eam'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 ! LOVEB m Alii SHAPES. 33 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 eold, 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, Pull 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 Hon 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. iaiiliiii'iin'frnr irT (34) 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, Por all that's there display'd. I file, and maybe overflle .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, — Zgave 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. T (35) ANSWEES IN A GAME OP 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 Then e'er fell to mortal lot, Whether in old times or not. THE EXPERIENCED. Tenderly a woman view, And thou'lt win her, take my word ; He who's quick and saucy too, Will of all men be pref err'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 j Many a blessing yet is rife, Many pleasures still remain ; Tet the greatest bliss in life, And the richest prize we find, Is a good, contented mind. 36 DIFITEBENT EMOTIONS ON THE SAME SPOT. THE MEKBY 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. DIFFEKENT 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 ! WHO'LL BUY GODS OF LOVE? 37 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 wing I my flight ! Compassionate spirit ! Let none ever hear it, — Conceal my affliction, Conceal thy delight ! THE HUNTER. To-day I'm rewarded ; Eich 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 ! 178ft 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; 38 THE MISANTHROPE. Then springs up on the bough; 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 another 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 ! s 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 ! THE MISANTHEOPE. 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. 1795, 1767-9. 39 DIFFERENT THREATS. I once into a forest far My maiden went to seek, And felt upon her neek, 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 f resh-strengthen'd longing flies To meet our kiss that seems to burn, — Caprice has just as much concern As love in her bold enterprise. 40 TETJS ENJOYMENT. 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. TBUE ENJOYMENT. Vautdt 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 blest, like me. I who have made this art mine own, A girl have chosen such as this ;• The blessing of the prieBt 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 ; THE FABEWELIi. 41 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 th' angelic choir above, In heaven's bright mansions to abide, — No diff'rence at the change thou'lt prove. 1767-& THE FABEWELL. [Probably addressed to Ms mistress Prederioa.] 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 ! 42 happiness and vision. Mournful in an hour like this Is love's sweetest pledge, I ween ; Cold upon thy mouth the kiss, Paint 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 spr ng. 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. LIVING BEMEMBBANCE. 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 EEMEMBBANCE. 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, Bemain my joy and bliss to tell ! 1767-9. 4A TO IiUNA. 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, Eloat in ether's region bright, "When drawn upwards by the sun, As my heart in rapturous calm. Eree 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. THE WEDDING NIGHT. 45 O'er a field of boundless span Looks thy gaze both far and ■wide. Eaise 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 fill'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. 46 APPARENT DEATH. Love helps thee to undress her fast, But thou art twice as fast as he ; And then he shuts both eyes at last With sly and roguish modesty. 1767. MISCHIEVOUS JOT. As a butterfly lenew'd, When in life I breathed my last, To the spots my flight I 'wing, Scenes of heav'nly rapture past, Over meadows, to the spring, Bound 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 hand it flies, And I round him sport the while. And she sees me hov'ring near ; Trembling at her lover's 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. TO THE CHOSEN ONE. 47 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 hears 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 steer ; But should ha 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 I 48 AFTEB- SENSATIONS. 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 beach trees in yon grove ! And behind we'll build a cot, Where to taste the joys of love ! 1797. 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.* APTEE-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 glow'd to make me- blest ! 1797. PEESBNOB. 49 PEOXIMITY 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 murmer 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. -o- PKESENCE. All things give tokens 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. JDazzling and beauteous art thou, And flowers, and moon, and the planets Homage pay, Sun, but to thee. 50 FAREWELL. Sun ! to me also be thou Creator of days bright and glorious ; Life and Eternity this I 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 ETVER. Plow 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 I FAEEWELL. 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. 1798. ; WELCOME AND FAREWELL. 51 Using some magic strains of yore, Thou lurest him, when scarcely calm, On to sweet folly's fragile bark once more, Benewing, doubling ohance 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 fulnll'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 mine arms to the swift-rolling billow, That lovingly hastens to fall on my breast. Then fickleness soon bids it onward 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 FABEWELL. [Another of the love-songs addressed to Frederica.] Quick throbb'd my heart : to horse ! haste, haste ! And lo ! 'twas done with speed of light ; The evening soon the world embraced, And o'er the mountains hung the night. NEW LOVE, NEW LEFB. 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 my 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 jpride Pelt 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 ecstacy ! 177L NEW LOYE, NEW LIFE. [Written at the time of Goethe's connection with Lily.] Hbabt ! my heart ! what means this feeling ? What oppresseth thee so sore ? What strange life is o'er me stealing I I acknowledge thee no more, TO BELINDA. 63 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 sing ing it one evening after he had taken his last farewell of her.] Wheebpoee 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'ernowing, Golden, truly blest, While thine image so beloved was glowing Deep within my breast. 54 MAT SONG. 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. 2775. MAY SONG. How fair doth Nature Appear again ! How bright the sunbeams ! How smiles the plain ! The flow'rs are bursting Prom 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 itf How lov'st thou me ! WITH A PAINTED BIBBON. 55 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 Yonth, joy, and fire. For new-bom dances And minstrelsy. Be ever happy, As thou lov'st me ! 1775.* WITH A PAINTED EIBBON. 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 thy wing, Twine it round my loved one's dress ; To her glass then let her spring, ' Full of eager joyousness. Boses 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. 68 ON THE LAKE. 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 Passa- vant on a Swiss Tour.] • I dbdtk fresh nourishment, new blood From out this world more (free ; j 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 Bound the horizon afar. Bound the shady creek lightly Morning zephyrs awake, And the ripen'd fruit brightly Mirrors itself in the lake. 1775. IN SUMMER. 57 PEOM THE MOUNTAIN. [Written just after the proceeding one, on a mountain over/ooMng 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. PLOWEE-SALUTE. This nosegay, — 'twas Jdress'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 SUMMEB. 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 &11 its beauteous majesty ! 1776* 58 PREMATURE SPRING. MAY SONG. Between wheatfield and com, Between hedgerow and thorn, Between pasture and tree, Where's my sweetheart ? Tell it ine ! 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. PBEMATUBE SPBING. 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.-- AUTUMN FEELINGS. 59 Under the verdure's Vigorous bloom, Bees, softly humming, Juices consume. Gentle disturbance Quivers in air, Sleep-causing fragrance, Motion so fair. Soon -with more power Bises 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 trellised vine on high ! May ye swell, twin-berries tender, Jucier 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 fulness, 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/ 60 THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT. EESTLESS LOVE. Thbough rain, through snow. Through tempest go ! 'Mongst steaming 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 SHEPHEED'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. COMFORT IN TEAES. 61 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 hath she wander'd, Perchance e'en over the sea ; Move onward, ye sheep, then, move onward ! Full sad the shepherd must be. 1803.* COMFOBT IN TEABS. 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 afflieteth. 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. 62 MIGHT SONG. "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 Prom earthly conflicts trying ; Sleep on ! what wouldst thou more? From earthly conflicts trying Thou driv'st me to this shore ; Through thee I'm hither flying, — Sleep on ! what wouldst thou more ? Through thee I'm hither flying, Thou wilt not list before In slumbers thou are lying : Sleep on ! what wouldst thou more? 1503.- ( 63 ) 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. Kound wall and round mountaia 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 ! 180B, 64 THE MOUNTAIN CASTLE. TO MIGNON. Ovbb vale and torrent far Bolls along the sun's bright oar. 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 smart In my heart, Ah, I then had long been dead ! 1796. 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. THE MOUNTAIN OASTLE. 65 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 Beceives 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 joyoiis and radiant The silence so desolate broke, 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 ; T" 66 the sprarr's salwtb. 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 I This cup, how bright it smiled ! " " 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, THE WANDEKEK's NIGHT-SONG. 67 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 hath 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 hath been. 1775. THE BLISS OF SORROW. Neveb 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 flllest, 68 the hunter's even-song. Would this constant strife would cease I "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 IpMgmia.~\ HttshM 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 will find rest. 1783. THE HUNTEB'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, Boams 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.* (69 ) 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 lite 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 springtime sparkiest 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, Eoams the bosom's labyrinth through, Boldly into night. 1789. * IH UJ ,JI..JL,.il JJ 70 PETITION. 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 cine 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.* EVEE AND EVEEYWHEEE. Fab 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 * + 71 TO HIS COY ONE. Seest thou yon smiling Orange ? Upon the tree still hangs it ; Already March hath 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, Lid-a, 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 eternal that gleam Across the northern lights' f ar-flick'ring beam. 1789.* 72 BOI/MCKING HANS. PEOXIMITY. 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.* o EECIPEOCAIi. Mr 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 let 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 BOLLIOKING 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 ! THE FBEEBOOTEB. 73 E I depart from this sad sphere, And leave a mil 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 payment, 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 ; ' Tet merrier moments No mortal e'er led. My cellar is lofty, My bam is full deep, From top to the bottom,— There lie I and sleep. 74 MABOH. And soon as I waken, All moves on its race ; My place has no fixture, My fixture no place. JOY AND SOEEOW. 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 exulting 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 ! 1827.' 1815, MAECH. 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. MAT. 7C 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. APKIL. 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 Tn return be your endeavor ! 1820. MAY. Light and silv'ry cloudlets hover Tn the air, as yet scarce warm ; Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over, Peeps the sun through fragrant balm. 76 Gently rolls and heaves the ocean As its waves the bank o'erflow, And with ever restless motion Moves the verdure too and fro, Mirror'd brightly far below. What is now the foliage moving ? Air is still, and hush'd the breeze, Sultriness, this fulness 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. NEXT TEAK'S SPRING. 77 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 vigor 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 ! Prom the heart full easily, Blooming flowers are cull'd by thee. If I think : "Oh, were it so," Bone and marrow seem 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 TEAR'S SPRING. The bed of flowers Loosens amain, The beauteous snowdrops Droop o'er the plain. The crocus opens Its glowing bud, Like emerald others, Others like blood. '78 AT MIDNIGHT HOtJE. With saucy gesture Primroses flare, And roguish violets, Hidden with care ; And whatsoever There stirs and strives, The Spring's contented, It 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, whieh 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. THE BBIDEGBOOM. 79 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 EISING 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 splendor far more bright ! Though my heart with grief throbs wilder, Fraught with rapture is the night ! 1828. THE BRIDEGROOM.* 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. * Not in tie English sense of the word, but the German, wherelt has the meauiug ui betrothed. 80 SUOH, SUCH IS HE WHO PLEASETH MB. 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 soann'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. SUOH, 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. Ply, dearest, fly ! He is not nigh ! Never rests the foot of evil spy. Hark flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains Beach 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, Kaven 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, Oa his lips morn's fragrant incense lies, Bound his lips the cooling Zephyr sighs. His mouth is red — its power I dread, W ith one glance from him, all sorrow's fled. r SWISS SONG. 81 His blood is true, bis beart bold too, la bis soft arms, strength, protection, dwells, And bis face with noble pity swells. His blood is true, bis beart bold too, Blest tbe one whom those dear arms may woo 1 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, — To think one moment, deign, — Shall it 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. FINNISH SONG. O'er the meadow I was a-going Anil there saw the JJntternies, Sipping, dancing, Mying, 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. THE DESTBTJOTION OF MAGDEBURG. 83 GIPSY SONG. In the drizzling mist, -with the snow high-pil'd, In the Winter nighty in the forest wild, 1. heard the wolves with their ravenous howl, I heard the screaming note of the owl : Wille wau wan wau ! Wille wo wo wo ! Wito hu ! I shot, one day, a oat 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 1631, see Sokelleb's History of the Turf's Tears' War.} Oh, Magdeburg the town ! Fair maids thy beauty crown, Thy charms fair maids and matrons crown ; Oh, Magdeburg the town. 84 THE DBSTEU0T1ON OP MAGDEBTOBCU 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 1 FAMILIAR SONGS. What we sing in company Soon from heart to heart will fly. the Oesellige IAeder, which I have anglicised 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 drink- ing-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, Bapture and sadness, Sorrow now flies. Oh, how mysterious Fortune's direction ! Old the connection, New-born the prize ! AMOVEBSABY SONG. Thank, for this, Forttine, "Wavering blindly ! Thank all that kindly Fate may bestow ! Bevel 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 neighbor 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. THE SPRING OBACIiB. 87 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 then no more. The social banquet now goes on, Unchequer'd by alloy ; The sacred double-numbers then Let all at once enjoy ! 1802. THE SPKING OEAOLE. Oh prophetic bird so bright, Blossom-songster, cuckoo night !* 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 cuckoo, thy cuckoo, Ever more cuckoo, cuckoo ! 88 THE HAPPY COUmE. 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 ! cuckoo ! hark ! cuckoo ! Silent yet ! for shame, cuckoo ! '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 ! cuckoo ! Two ! cuckoo ! Ever, ever, cuckoo, cuckoo, coo ! If we've calculated clearly, We have half a dozen nearly. If good promises we'll give, Wilt thou say how long we'll live ? Truly, we'll confess to thee, We'd prolong it willingly. Coo cuckoo, coo cuckoo, 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 cuckoo, coo cuckoo, Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo I 1803.* (Grraeef clly 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 ! THE HAPPY COTJPIiE. 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 Bound 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 soard! How fair and pleasant looks On yonder beauteous spot, Embracsd by poplar-brooks, The newly-niiish'd cot ! * » - 90 THE HAPPY COUPLE. 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, T£et none can e'er excel Our dearest daughter there ! Yet where the thick-set green Stands round yon church and sod, 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 honor'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 ; SONG OF FELLOWSHIP. 91 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 honor 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 ns 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 brothers,love so.fair. Thus heart and heart through life With mutual love are fill'd ; And by no causeless strife Our itoion e'er is chill'd. Our hopes a God has crown'd With life-discernment free. And all we view around, Renews our eostacy. 92 CONSTANCY IN CHANGE. 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 I 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 1 East 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. TABLE SONG. 9 And the hand so true, and 'warm, Ever raised in charity, And the cunning-f ashion'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' favor blest Ne'er will perish, ne'er depart. 1803/ TABLE SONG. [Composed for the merry party already mentioned, on the oc- casion 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'bb 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. 94 TAEtE SONG. * 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 wb 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, Honor 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. Nest to her good health I drink, Who has stirr'd my passion ; Of his mistress let each think, t 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 nest 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. / WONT AND DONE. 95 Just as we are gather'd thus, Others are collected ; On them, therefore, as on us, Be Pate'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. I'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 oft-times 'twas dark and though oft-times '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 seek not 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. 96 GENEBAL CONFESSION. 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 noBegay of flowers has dress'd, And cares not for one 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. GENEKAL 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 ! Tes ! 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. COPTIC SONG. 9? Mute and silent have we sat, Whilst the blockheads prated, And above e'n.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 'It absolution grant To thy true ones ever, We, to execute thy will, Ceaseless will endeavor, From half -measures strive to wean us, Wholly, fairly, well demean us, Besting, 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. 1808. i COPTIC SONG. liBAVE we the pedants to quarrel and strive, Bfgid 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 ! " 98 VANITAS ! VANITATtJM V ANITAS I And on the Indian breeze as it booms, And in the depfti 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 clamor : 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 ! VANTTAS! VANITATUM VANITAS ! 99 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, Laek-a-day 1 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. (100) EOBTUNE OF WAR Notjght more accursed in war I knew Than getting off scott-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 OPEN TABLE. 101 If one has tended carefully The hero's wounded limb, Her neighbor 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 arid 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 honor'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. 102 OPEN TABLE. 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-stoek'd, "Well-behaved, not naughty. These especially I ask'd, All proposed attending. Johnny, go and look around I Are they hither wending ? Men I summon'd with respect, Who their own wives treasure j 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, 1 see now. THE BECKONING. 103 In the town at once 'tis known, Every one's commending. Johnny, open all the doors ; All are hither wending ! 1815.* THE BECKONING. 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. 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. Why, young orphan, all this wailing ? " Would to Heaven that I were dead 1 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. 104 THE BECKONING. OHOKtTS. 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. 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. CHOBTTS. 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. 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 ardor. All that duty order'd me ; Each oneask'd me for the larder, And there was no scarcity. CHOUUS. Surely we for wine may languish ! Let the bumper then go round ! For all sighs and groans of anguisk Thou to-day in joy bast drown'd. EKGO BIBAMUS! 105 LEADKB. Each should thus make proclamation Of what he did -we'll 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 endeavor, None but rascals meek appear. Surely we for wine may languish ! Let the bumper then go round I For all sighs and groans of anguish We have now in rapture drown'd. TBIO. Let each merry minstrel enter, He's right welcome to our hall ! 'Tis but with the self -tormentor 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. CHOBUS. 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 ! Fob a praiseworthy object we're now gather'd here, So, brethren sing Ebgo bibamus ! Tho' talk may be hush'd, yet the glasses ring clear, Remember then Ebgo bibasius ! 106 • KMBHANIAS. 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 Ebgo bibamus ! I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare, And bethought me of Ebgo 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 s Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss, Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss, In the comforting Ebgo bibamus ! I am call'd by my fate far away from each friend ; Ye loved ones, then : Ebgo bibamus ! With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend, So double our Ebgo bibamus ! Whate'er to his treasures the niggard may add, Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had, For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad, So, brethren, sing : Ebgo bibamus ! And what shall we say of to-day as it flies ? I thought but of : Ebgo bibamus ! 'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise, So again and again sing : Bibamus ! For joy through the wide-open portal it guides, Bright glitter the clouds, as the curtains divides, And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides, While we thunder our : Ebgo 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. EPBPHAOTAS. 107 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 bo go further on our way. 1781. BALLADS. Poets' art is ever able To endow with truth mere fable. MIGNON. [This universally known poem is also to be found in Wilhelm Mei$ter.~\ Knows't 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.* (109) THE MINSTKEL. [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 ! Who e'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 Bepays the minstrel well. One boon I'd crave, if not too bold — One bumper in a cup of gold Be as my guerdon given." 110 The bowl lie raised, the bowl he quaffd : "Oh drink, with solace fraught ! Oh, house thrice-blest, where such a draught, A trifling gift is thought ! When Fortune smiles, remember me, j And as I thank you heartily, ', As warmly thank ye Heaven ! " 17U5.*' BALLAD OF THE BANISHED AND EBTOBNTHO CODNT. [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-honor'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 ; t BALLAD. Ill 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 1 What wealth to her dearly-leved 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 in 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 tbem 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. 112 BALLAD. 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 ! Yell 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 baBe-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 he 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 they hear with delight. 181& »-3*. THE FAITHLESS BOY. lli> THE VOILET. Upon the mead a voilet stood, Eetiring, 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 maiden drew nigh, The violet fail'd 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. Theeb 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 Mss'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 sozil its farewell took, The boy was sad, with terror shook, Then sprang upon his charger. 114: THE EKL-KING. 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, A hundred guests sat there, With hollow eyes, and grinning all ; They bade him taste the fare. He saw his sweetheart 'midst the throng, Wrapp'd up in grave-clothes white and long ; She turn'd, and * 1774 THE EKL-KLNG. 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. * This ballad is introduced in Act II. of Claudine of Villa Bella where it is suddenly broken off, as it is here. THE EEL-KING. 115 "My son, -wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide ?" "Look, father, the Erl-King is close by onr side ! Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train? " " My son, 'tis the mist rising oyer 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.* (116) JOHANNA SEBUS. [To the memory of an excellent and beautiful girl of 17, be- longing 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 bbeaks down, the ice-plain gbowls, The floods akise, the wateb 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 gbowls, The floods dash on, the wateb 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 pbesebved fbom the WAVE !" The dam disappeaes, the wateb gbowls, Like ocean bdjlows 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 neighbor straight, But for her aud the children, alas, too late ! The dam disappeab'd, — like a sea it gbowls, Bound 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 ssized fast, But, ah, they all must perish at last 1 THE FISHERMAN. 117 Fair Susan still stands there, untouched 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 tbe 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 abe 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 FISHEEMAN. 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 ? 118 THE KING OP THU1/E. 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 flx'd, I ween ; Half drew she him, and half sank he, And ne'er again was seen. 1779.* THE KING OF THULE.* 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 hall, 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. •This ballad is also Introduced in Fauat, where it ia buhe by Mar- garet THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWEB. 119 He saw it falling, filling, And sinking 'neath the main, His eyes then closed for ever, He never drank again. 1774. THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWER. BONO OF THE IMPRISONED COUNT. COUNT. I know a flower of beauty rare, Ah, how I hold it dear ! To seek it 1 would fain repair, Were I not prison'd here. My sorrow sore oppresses me, For when I was at liberty, I had it closed 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. TEE BOSE. I blossom fair, — thy tale of woes I hear from 'neaui 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 s I doubt not, in thy bosom. COUNT. Thy red, in dress of green array'd, As worth all praise I hold j 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 honor here in silence. 120 THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWEB. THE T.TTiV 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, lite me, unsullied too, My merit values duly. COUNT. In truth, I hope myself unstain'd, And free from grievous crime ; Tet 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 colors. 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. sib ctjkt's wedding-journey. 121 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 Boams 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 I " is all I cry, And straightway life returneth. 1798. SIB CTJKT'S WEDDING-JOUENEY. 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, 122 •WEDDING SONG. 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. ■WEDDING BONO. 123 '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 orato-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 believe 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 honor 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 beds were conceal'd ; And then is a singing and noise-making troop Of strange little figures reveal'd ; And wagon on wagon with all kinds of things — The clatter they c.;use 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. 124 THE TBEASTJBE-DIGGEB. The fife and the fiddle all merrily sound, They twine, and they glide, and ■with nimbleness bound, They 'whisper, and chatter, aiid clatter 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 ham 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. Alii my weary days I pass'd Sick at heart and poor in purse. Poverty's the greatest curse, Eiches 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. THE BAT-CATCHER. 126 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 eyes 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 BAT-OATCHEE. 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. 126 THE SPINNBK. 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 skillful bard ye view In form of maiden-catcher too ; For he no city enters e'er, Without effecting wonders there. However coy may be each maid, Howe'er the women seem afraid, Yet all will love-sick be ere long To sound of magic lute and song. [Da Capo.] 1803.1 THE SPINNEE. 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. BEFOBE A COUET OF JUSTICE. 127 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.* BEFOEE 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 seorn '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.* (128) THE PAGE AND THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. PAGE. Where goest thou? Where ? Miller's daughter so fair ! Thy name, pray ? — iokler's daughter. 'Tis Lizzy. PAGE. Where goest thou ? Where ? With the rake in thy hand ? Keller's daughteh. Father's meadows and land To visit, I'm busy. • PAGE. Dost go there alone ? i MIMJER'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. I'll follow thee soon ; When the sun burns at noon, We'll go there, ourselves from his rays to hide And then in some glade all-verdant and deep — the youth and the mielstbeam. 129 mhiLer's daughteb. Why, people would say — PAGE. Within mine arms thou gently wilt sleep. MTTiTiKB's daughteb. 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 MTLLSTBEAM. [This sweet Ballad, and the one entitled The Ma&dofthe'MUVs Repentance, were written on the occasion of a visit paid by Goethe to Switzerland. The Maid of the MUVs Treachery, to which the latter forms the sequel, w»3 not written till the following year.] YOUTH. Sat, sparkling streamlet, whither thou Art going ! With joyons mien thy waters now Art flowing. Why seek the vale so hastily ? Attend for once, and answer me ! MTLLSTBEAM. 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. 130 THE YOUTH AND THE MII/LSTBEAM. The mill thou seekest in a mood Contented, And know'st not how my youthful bloHl 'S tormented. But doth the miller's daughter fair Gaze often on thee kindly there ? MTTJJSTBEAM. She opes the shutters soon as light Is gleaming ; And comes to bathe her featuresbright 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 ardor, Surely, then, flesh and blood to tame Is harder. When once is seen her beauteous face, One ever longs her steps to trace. MTLIiSTBEAM. Over the wheel I, roaring, bound, Ail-proudly, And ev'ry spoke whirls swiftly round, And loudly, Since I have seen the miller's daughter, With greater vigor 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 ? THE MAID OT IBS MILL'S TBEACHKRT. 131 MILLSTBKAM. 'Ti3 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. YOTJTH. Farewell, thou who with me dost prove Love's sadness ! Perchance some day thou'lt breathe of lova And gladness, Go, tell her straight and often too, The bov's mute Hopes and wishes true. 1797. 7 THE MATT) OF THE MILL'S TREACHERY. [This Ballad is introduced in the Wanderjdhre, 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 hath 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 villains sorely press'd, His wallet from him has been torn ; Our hapless friend has been undress'd,— Left well nigh naked as when born. - »*•• 132 THE MAID OP THE MTLIi'S TREACHERY. 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 honor 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 !' ; THE MAID OP THE MILL'S REPENTANCE. 183 " 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 ya maidens of the village; Leave it to those of quality, Their humble worshippers to pillage ; Yet if ye are of practiced skill, And of all tender ties afraid, Exchange your lovers, if ye will, But never let them be betray'd." Thus sings he id 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 ! 179& THE MATT) OF THE MILL'S BEPENTAJTCE. 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 singst 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. { 134 THE MAID OF THE MILL'S BBPBNTANOB. 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. TOUTH. 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 eyen worse, Such tales find ready credence. "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 !' " 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 truth To treat the loved one so basely !" THE MAID OF THE MILl/S REPENTANCE. 135 THE POET, The swarthy -woman then -went iDside, To the spring in the courtyard yonder ; Her eyes from their stain sbe purified, And, — wonder ! — ■ Her face and eyes were radiant and bright, And the maid of the mill was disclosed to the sigbfc Of the startled and angry stripling ! THE MAID OP THE MILIi. 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 ! 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 MTCL. 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 I 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 ! 136 THE TBAVELLEE AND THE FABM-MATDEN. 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 TBAVELLEE AND THE FAKM-MAIDEN. 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 ? 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. Dreams of old aquaintance 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 ! 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. Not now for the first time I surrender To this form, in humble adoration ; It was brightest midst the constellation In tke hall adorn'd with festal splendor. THE TRAVELLER AND THE FARM-MAIDEN. 137 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 honor, too, to capture? When my wand'rings end, then oh, what rapture, If to find that form again 'tis given ! 'Tis the daughter of the race now banish'd That thou see'st, not her likeness only ; Helen and her brother, glad though lonely, Till this farm of their estate now vanish'd. 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. 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. 138 EFFECTS AT A DISTANCE. I have leamt the owner's own condition, And fair maiden, thou indeed canst buy it ; But the cost is great, I wont deny it, — Helen is the price, — with thy permission ? 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. " pach 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. THE WALKING BELL. 139 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 yon 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." 180& 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." 140 FAITHFUL BCKAET. 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, Boused 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, Buns 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 ehapel, hastening fast • Through pastures, plains, and bushes. Each Sunday and each feast as well, His late disaster heeds he ; The moment that he hears the bell, No other summons needs he. 1813. FAITHFUL EOKABT. "Oh, would we werefurther! 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." FAITHFUL EOKART. 141 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. Bat 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. (142 ) THE DANCE OF DEATH. The ■warder looks down at the mid hour of night, On the tombs that lie scattered 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 appeal 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 repet, All cover'd with crosses in mptal. THE PUPIL TS MAGIC. 143 Tlie ehroud lie 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 falls, 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 rigor All he used to do, And will now with vigor Work my wonders too. Wander, wander Onward lightly, So that rightly Flow the torrent, And with teaming 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 ! 144 THE PTJPtL IN MAGIC. Wander, wander Onward lightly, So that rightly Flow the torrent, 1 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 Ivre, 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 ; Eiver 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. THE PUPIL IN MAGIC. 145 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 halL 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. (146) THE BBIDE OP COEINTH. [First published in Schiller's Moren, 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 Athena 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 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 r Glides into the room a bashful maid. But she, at his sight, Lifts her hand so white, And appears as though full sore afraid. THE BRIDE OP COKINTH. 147 "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 P Youth ! afar remain ! Bapture 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'n's 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 ! 148 THE BRIDE OF COBINTH. 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 father's house repair, And thou'lt 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 : ' ' gow 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 CalPst thy loved one now, Is as cold as ice, though white as snow.'' THE BBIDE OP CORINTH. 149 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 1 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 ardor'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 great her ear. Tones of joy and sadness, And loves 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 thou'lt 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, 150 THE BRIDE COT CORINTH. 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 caa never cool down love !" "When that infant vow of love was spoken, Venus' radiant temple smiled on both. Mother ! thou that promise since has 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 God'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 thou'lt be to-morrow, Only to grow brown again when there" THE GOD AMD THE BAYADEBE. 151 " Mothe r, 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 BAYADEBE. AN INDIAN IiEOtEND. [This very fine Ballad was also first given in the Horen.~\ 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 bis 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, — Pair 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. * One of the numerous names of Seeva, the destroyer,— the great god of the Brahmins. 152 THE GOD AND THE BAYADERE. 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 enthral ; 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 eouch 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. THE GOD AND THE BAYADEBE. 153 Then hears she the priests and the funeral song, Then madly she runs, and she Beyers 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 Pall 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 death's 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. (154) THE PARIAH. I. THE PABIAH'S FEAYEB. Dbeaded Brama, lord of might ! All proceed from thee alone ; Thou art he -who judgeth right ! Dost thou none but Brahmins own ? Do but Kajahs 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 instead, 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. n. IiEGEND. [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.] Wateb-fetchtng goes the noble • Brahmin's wife, so pure and lovely ; He is honor'd, void of blemish, And of justice rigid, stern. THE PAKIAH. 156 Daily from the sacred river Brings she back refreshment 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 sh« 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, 156 THE PAKIAH. 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 ; Eresh 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 slaughters But my mother mights't 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. THE PAEIAH. 157 Then a 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, w'ld in action, I shall be amongst the gods. E'en the heav'nly boy's own image, Though in brow and eye 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, 158 THE PARIAH. 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 transiorm'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." 182L m. 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. ( 159) DEATH-LAMENT OP 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 hasten'd. 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 door 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 silt, and ready written, Draweth forth the letter of divorcement, To return home to her mother's dwelling, Pree 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 fervor kiss'd she. But she from the suckling in the cradle Could not tear herself, so deep her sorrow ! 160 KRATH-IiAMENT OP THE NOBLE WIFE OF ASAN AGA. 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-oherish'd children !" To her prayer her brother would not harken, 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 the 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 Asah, 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." ■ DEATH-LAMENT OP THE NOBLE WIPE OP ASAN AOA. 161 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 I" 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 Baw her children flying from her. ins, J. 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 inter- est. One of them is a Bequiem 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 honor 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-born 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 Duohess Louisa of Weimar, j 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. IDXLL. .163 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. 164 TDYVL. MENALCAS. Thou seekest here a spurious fame, And hast a mind to-day to grieve me, Love as thy portion thou may'st 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 ; Tes, 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. CHOBTJS. [Gradually becoming louder.] Tes, we hither come, attending With the harmony of song, As the hours their race are ending On this day of blest delight. RINALDO. 165 AiL. 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. KINALDO.* [This Cantata was written for Prince Frederick of Gotha, and set to music by Winter, the Prince singing the part of Einaldo. — See the Annalen.~] OHOKTTS. To the strand ! quick mount the bark ! If no favoring zephyrs blow, Ply the oar and nimbly row, And with zeal your prowess mark ! O'er the sea we thus career. EINAiDO. 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 be&t ! Spirit true, recall those days ! Freeborn breath, thy gentle lays Mingled are with joy and pain. * See Tasso'8 Geruealsmme Mbirata. Canto XVL 166 KENAKDO. 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 tree*. Wat'ry flakes and jets are falling, Sweet and silv'ry strains arise ; While the turtle-dove is calling, And the nightingale replies. 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. BmaiiDo. 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 dances combining, Ea