The Poems of Goethe - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (readera ebook reader .txt) 📗

thy breast with hate be supplied, And to God the future confide.

IF wealth is gone--then something is gone!

Quick, make up thy mind,

And fresh wealth find. If honour is gone--then much is gone!

Seek glory to find,

And people then will alter their mind. If courage is gone--then all is gone! 'Twere better that thou hadst never been born.

HE who with life makes sport,

Can prosper never; Who rules himself in nought,

Is a slave ever.

MAY each honest effort be

Crown'd with lasting constancy.

EACH road to the proper end Runs straight on, without a bend.

1825. -----

CALM AT SEA.

SILENCE deep rules o'er the waters,

Calmly slumb'ring lies the main, While the sailor views with trouble

Nought but one vast level plain.

Not a zephyr is in motion!

Silence fearful as the grave! In the mighty waste of ocean

Sunk to rest is ev'ry wave.

1795. -----

THE PROSPEROUS VOYAGE.

THE mist is fast clearing. And radiant is heaven, Whilst AEolus loosens Our anguish-fraught bond. The zephyrs are sighing, Alert is the sailor. Quick! nimbly be plying! The billows are riven, The distance approaches; I see land beyond!

1795. -----

COURAGE.

CARELESSLY over the plain away, Where by the boldest man no path Cut before thee thou canst discern, Make for thyself a path!

Silence, loved one, my heart! Cracking, let it not break! Breaking, break not with thee!

1776.* -----

MY ONLY PROPERTY.

I FEEL that I'm possess'd of nought, Saving the free unfetterd thought

Which from my bosom seeks to flow, And each propitious passing hour That suffers me in all its power

A loving fate with truth to know.

1814. -----

ADMONITION.

WHEREFORE ever ramble on?

For the Good is lying near, Fortune learn to seize alone,

For that Fortune's ever here.

1789. -----

OLD AGE.

OLD age is courteous--no one more: For time after time he knocks at the door, But nobody says, "Walk in, sir, pray!" Yet turns he not from the door away, But lifts the latch, and enters with speed. And then they cry "A cool one, indeed!"

1814. -----

EPITAPH.

As a boy, reserved and naughty; As a youth, a coxcomb and haughty; As a man, for action inclined; As a greybeard, fickle in mind.-- Upon thy grave will people read: This was a very man, indeed!

1815.* -----

RULES FOR MONARCHS.

IF men are never their thoughts to employ, Take care to provide them a life full of joy; But if to some profit and use thou wouldst bend them, Take care to shear them, and then defend them.

1815.* -----

PAULO POST FUTURI.

WEEP ye not, ye children dear,

That as yet ye are unborn: For each sorrow and each tear

Makes the father's heart to mourn.

Patient be a short time to it,

Unproduced, and known to none; If your father cannot do it,

By your mother 'twill be done.

1784. -----

THE FOOL'S EPILOGUE.

MANY good works I've done and ended, Ye take the praise--I'm not offended; For in the world, I've always thought Each thing its true position hath sought. When praised for foolish deeds am I, I set off laughing heartily; When blamed for doing something good, I take it in an easy mood. If some one stronger gives me hard blows, That it's a jest, I feign to suppose: But if 'tis one that's but my own like, I know the way such folks to strike. When Fortune smiles, I merry grow, And sing in dulci jubilo; When sinks her wheel, and tumbles me o'er, I think 'tis sure to rise once more.

In the sunshine of summer I ne'er lament, Because the winter it cannot prevent; And when the white snow-flakes fall around, I don my skates, and am off with a bound. Though I dissemble as I will, The sun for me will ne'er stand still; The old and wonted course is run, Until the whole of life is done; Each day the servant like the lord, In turns comes home, and goes abroad; If proud or humble the line they take, They all must eat, drink, sleep, and wake. So nothing ever vexes me; Act like the fool, and wise ye'll be!

1804. -----

PARABLES.

Joy from that in type we borrow, Which in life gives only sorrow.

JOY.

A DRAGON-FLY with beauteous wing Is hov'ring o'er a silv'ry spring; I watch its motions with delight,-- Now dark its colours seem, now bright; Chameleon-like appear, now blue, Now red, and now of greenish hue. Would it would come still nearer me, That I its tints might better see

It hovers, flutters, resting ne'er!

But hush! it settles on the mead. I have it safe now, I declare!

And when its form I closely view,

'Tis of a sad and dingy blue-- Such, Joy-Dissector, is thy case indeed

1767-9. -----

EXPLANATION OF AN ANTIQUE GEM,

A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high

Within a beauteous garden; And see, a goat is sitting by.

As if he were its warden.

But oh, Quirites, how one errs!

The tree is guarded badly; For round the other side there whirrs

And hums a beetle madly.

The hero with his well-mail'd coat

Nibbles the branches tall so; A mighty longing feels the goat

Gently to climb up also.

And so, my friends, ere long ye see

The tree all leafless standing; It looks a type of misery,

Help of the gods demanding.

Then listen, ye ingenuous youth,

Who hold wise saws respected: From he-goat and from beetles-tooth

A tree should be protected!

1815. -----

CAT-PIE.

WHILE he is mark'd by vision clear

Who fathoms Nature's treasures, The man may follow, void of fear,

Who her proportions measures.

Though for one mortal, it is true,

These trades may both be fitted, Yet, that the things themselves are two

Must always be admitted.

Once on a time there lived a cook

Whose skill was past disputing, Who in his head a fancy took

To try his luck at shooting.

So, gun in hand, he sought a spot

Where stores of game were breeding, And there ere long a cat he shot

That on young birds was feeding.

This cat he fancied was a hare,

Forming a judgment hasty, So served it up for people's fare,

Well-spiced and in a pasty.

Yet many a guest with wrath was fill'd

(All who had noses tender): The cat that's by the sportsman kill'd

No cook a hare can render.

1810. -----

LEGEND.

THERE lived in the desert a holy man

To whom a goat-footed Faun one day Paid a visit, and thus began

To his surprise: "I entreat thee to pray That grace to me and my friends may be given, That we may be able to mount to Heaven, For great is our thirst for heav'nly bliss." The holy man made answer to this: "Much danger is lurking in thy petition, Nor will it be easy to gain admission; Thou dost not come with an angel's salute; For I see thou wearest a cloven foot." The wild man paused, and then answer'd he: "What doth my goat's foot matter to thee? Full many I've known into heaven to pass Straight and with ease, with the head of an ass!"

1815.* -----

AUTHORS.

OVER the meadows, and down the stream,

And through the garden-walks straying, He plucks the flowers that fairest seem;

His throbbing heart brooks no delaying. His maiden then comes--oh, what ecstasy! Thy flowers thou giv'st for one glance of her eye!

The gard'ner next door o'er the hedge sees the youth: "I'm not such a fool as that, in good truth; My pleasure is ever to cherish each flower, And see that no birds my fruit e'er devour. But when 'tis ripe, your money, good neighbour! 'Twas not for nothing I took all this labour!" And such, methinks, are the author-tribe.

The one his pleasures around him strews,

That his friends, the public, may reap, if they choose; The other would fain make them all subscribe,

1776.* -----

THE CRITIC.

I HAD a fellow as my guest, Not knowing he was such a pest, And gave him just my usual fare; He ate his fill of what was there,

And for desert my best things swallow'd, Soon as his meal was o'er, what follow'd? Led by the Deuce, to a neighbour he went, And talk'd of my food to his heart's content: "The soup might surely have had more spice, The meat was ill-brown'd, and the wine wasn't nice." A thousand curses alight on his head! 'Tis a critic, I vow! Let the dog be struck dead!

1776.* -----

THE DILETTANTE AND THE CRITIC.

A BOY a pigeon once possess'd, In gay and brilliant plumage dress'd; He loved it well, and in boyish sport Its food to take from his mouth he taught, And in his pigeon he took such pride, That his joy to others he needs must confide.

An aged fox near the