The Poems of Goethe by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (10 best novels of all time .TXT) 📕

Though my loved one may be far.

Upward mount then! clearer, milder,

Robed in splendour far more bright! Though my heart with grief throbs wilder,

Fraught with rapture is the night!

THE BRIDEGROOM.*

(Not in the English sense of the word, but the German, where it has the meaning of betrothed.)

I SLEPT,--'twas midnight,--in my bosom woke,

As though 'twere day, my love-o'erflowing heart; To me it seemed like night, when day first broke;

What is't to me, whate'er it may impart?

She was away; the world's unceasing strife

For her alone I suffer'd through the heat Of sultry day; oh, what refreshing life

At cooling eve!--my guerdon was complete.

The sun now set, and wand'ring hand in hand,

His last and blissful look we greeted then; While spake our eyes, as they each other scann'd:

"From the far east, let's trust, he'll come again!"

At midnight!--the bright stars, in vision blest,

Guide to the threshold where she slumbers calm: Oh be it mine, there too at length to rest,--

Yet howsoe'er this prove, life's full of charm!

SUCH, SUCH IS HE WHO PLEASETH ME.

FLY, dearest, fly! He is not nigh!

He who found thee one fair morn in Spring

In the wood where thou thy flight didst wing. Fly, dearest, fly! He is not nigh! Never rests the foot of evil spy.

Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains

Reach the loved one, borne there by the wind,

In the soft heart open doors they find. Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains, Hark!--yet blissful love their echo pains.

Erect his head, and firm his tread,

Raven hair around his smooth brow strays,

On his cheeks a Spring eternal plays. Erect his head, and firm his tread, And by grace his ev'ry step is led.

Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd,

And the dark eyes 'neath his eyebrows placed,

With full many a beauteous line are graced. Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd, Soon as seen, thy love must be confess'd.

His mouth is red--its power I dread,

On his lips morn's fragrant incense lies,

Round his lips the cooling Zephyr sighs. His mouth is red--its power I dread, With one glance from him, all sorrow's fled.

His blood is true, his heart bold too,

In his soft arms, strength, protection, dwells

And his face with noble pity swells. His blood is true, his heart bold too, Blest the one whom those dear arms may woo!

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 ii not fall?

SWISS SONG,

Up in th' mountain I was a-sitting, With the bird there As my guest, Blithely singing, Blithely springing, And building His nest.

In the garden I was a-standing, And the bee there Saw as well, Buzzing, humming, Going, coming, And building His cell.

O'er the meadow I was a-going, And there saw the Butterflies, Sipping, dancing, Flying, glancing, And charming The eyes.

And then came my Dear Hansel, And I show'd them With glee, Sipping, quaffing, And he, laughing, Sweet kisses Gave me.

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.

GIPSY SONG.

IN the drizzling mist, with the snow high-pil'd, In the Winter night, in the forest wild, I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl, I heard the screaming note of the owl:

I shot, one day, a cat in a ditch-- The dear black cat of Anna the witch; Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down, Seven women they were, from out of the town.

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:

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.

THE DESTRUCTION OF MAGDEBURG.

[For a fine account of the fearful sack of Magdeburg, by Tilly, in the year 1613, see SCHILLER's History of the Thirty Years' War.]

OH, Magdeberg the town! Fair maids thy beauty crown, Thy charms fair maids and matrons crown; Oh, Magdeburg the town!

Where all so blooming stands, Advance fierce Tilly's bands; O'er gardens and o'er well--till'd lands Advance fierce Tilly's bands.

Now Tilly's at the gate. Our homes who'll liberate? Go, loved one, hasten to the gate, And dare the combat straight!

There is no need as yet, However fierce his threat; Thy rosy cheeks I'll kiss, sweet pet! There is no need as yet.

My longing makes me pale. Oh, what can wealth avail? E'en now thy father may be pale. Thou mak'st my courage fail.

Oh, mother, give me bread! Is then my father dead? Oh, mother, one small crust of bread! Oh, what misfortune dread!

Thy father, dead lies he, The trembling townsmen flee, Adown the street the blood runs free; Oh, whither shall we flee?

The churches ruined lie, The houses burn on high, The roofs they smoke, the flames out fly, Into the street then hie!

No safety there they meet! The soldiers fill the Street, With fire and sword the wreck complete: No safety there they meet!

Down falls the houses' line, Where now is thine or mine? That bundle yonder is not thine, Thou flying maiden mine!

The women sorrow sore. The maidens far, far more. The living are no virgins more; Thus Tilly's troops make war!

FAMILIAR SONGS.

What we sing in company Soon from heart to heart will fly.

THE Gesellige Lieder, which I have angicisled as above, as several of them cannot be called convivial songs, are separated by Goethe from his other songs, and I have adhered to the same arrangement. The Ergo bibamus is a well-known drinking song in Germany, where it enjoys vast popularity.

ON THE NEW YEAR.

[Composed for a merry party that used to meet, in 1802, at Goethe's house.]

FATE now allows us,

'Twixt the departing

And the upstarting, Happy to be; And at the call of

Memory cherish'd,

Future and perish'd Moments we see.

Seasons of anguish,--

Ah, they must ever

Truth from woe sever, Love and joy part; Days still more worthy

Soon will unite us,

Fairer songs light us, Strength'ning the heart.

We, thus united,

Think of, with gladness,

Rapture and sadness, Sorrow now flies. Oh, how mysterious

Fortune's direction!

Old the connection,

New-born the prize!

Thank, for this, Fortune,

Wavering blindly!

Thank all that kindly Fate may bestow! Revel in change's

Impulses clearer,

Love far sincerer, More heartfelt glow!

Over the old one,

Wrinkles collected,

Sad and dejected, Others may view; But, on us gently

Shineth a true one,

And to the new one We, too, are new.

As a fond couple

'Midst the dance veering,

First disappearing, Then reappear, So let affection

Guide thro' life's mazy

Pathways so hazy Into the year!

ANNIVERSARY SONG.

[This little song describes the different members of the party just spoken of.]

WHY pacest thou, my neighbour fair,

The garden all alone? If house and land thou seek'st to guard,

I'd thee as mistress own.

My brother sought the cellar-maid,

And suffered her no rest; She gave him a refreshing draught,

A kiss, too, she impress'd.

My cousin is a prudent wight,

The cook's by him ador'd; He turns the spit round ceaselessly,

To gain love's sweet reward.

We six together then began

A banquet to consume, When lo! a fourth pair singing came,

And danced into the room.

Welcome were they,--and welcome too

Was a fifth jovial pair. Brimful of news, and stored with tales

And jests both new and rare.

For riddles, spirit, raillery,

And wit, a place remain'd; A sixth pair then our circle join'd,

And so that prize was gain'd.

And yet to make us truly blest,

One miss'd we, and full sore; A true and tender couple came,--

We needed them no more.

The social banquet now goes on,

Unchequer'd by alloy; The sacred double-numbers then

Let us at once enjoy!

THE SPRING ORACLE.

OH prophetic bird so bright, Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight! In the fairest time of year, Dearest bird, oh! deign to hear What a youthful pair would pray, Do thou call, if hope they may: Thy cuck-oo, thy cuck-oo. Ever more cuck-oo, cuck-oo!

Hearest thou? A loving pair Fain would to the altar fare; Yes! a pair in happy youth, Full of virtue, full of truth. Is the hour not fix'd by fate? Say, how long must they still wait? Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo! Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo!

'Tis not our fault, certainly! Only two years patient be! But if we ourselves please here, Will pa-pa-papas appear? Know that thou'lt more kindness do us, More thou'lt prophesy unto us. One! cuck-oo!