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

matrons who dwell in the town. Bring me, also, I praythee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee,

Oft have I wish'd to possess some stich a trinket as that." There I remain'd, and ask'd, as merchants are wont, with precision

After the form and the weight which thy commission should have. Modest, indeed, was the price thou didst name! I meanwhile was gazing

On thy neck which deserv'd ornaments worn but by queens. Loudly now rose the cry from the ship; then kindly thou spakest

"Take, I entreat thee, some fruit out of the garden, my friend Take the ripest oranges, figs of the whitest; the ocean

Beareth no fruit, and, in truth, 'tis not produced by each land." So I entered in. Thou pluckedst the fruit from the branches,

And the burden of gold was in thine apron upheld. Oft did I cry, Enough! But fairer fruits were still falling

Into the hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch. Presently didst thou reached the arbour; there lay there a basket,

Sweet blooming myrtle trees wav'd, as we drew nigh, o'er our heads. Then thou began'st to arrange the fruit with skill and in silence:

First the orange, which lay heavy as though 'twere of gold, Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigur'd,

And with myrtle the gift soon was both cover'd and grac'd. But I raised it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together,

And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscured by a film, Soon I felt thy bosom on mine! Mine arm was soon twining

Round thy beautiful form; thousand times kiss'd I thy neck. On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling,

Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting the rapturous pair. Amor's hands I felt: he press'd us together with ardour,

And, from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears Stream'd from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were weeping,

And, 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seem'd to die. Louder and louder they calI'd from the strand; my feet would no longer

Bear my weight, and I cried:--"Dora! and art thou not mine?" "Thine forever!" thou gently didst say. Then the tears we were shedding

Seem'd to be wiped from our eyes, as by the breath of a god. Nearer was heard the cry "Alexis!" The stripling who sought me

Suddenly peep'd through the door. How he the basket snatch'd up! How he urged me away! how press'd I thy hand! Wouldst thou ask me

How the vessel I reach'd? Drunken I seem'd, well I know. Drunken my shipmates believed me, and so had pity upon me;

And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscur'd. "Thine for ever!" thou, Dora, didst murmur; it fell on my senses

With the thunder of Zeus! while by the thunderer's throne Stood his daughter, the Goddess of Love; the Graces were standing

Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine! Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favouring zephyr!

Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam! Bring me unto the foreign harbour, so that the goldsmith

May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge! Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, oh my Dora!

Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwin'd Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets,

Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand. There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely

Be to the jacinth oppos'd, seeming its foil; while the gold Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled.

Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betroth'd! Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me

Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form. I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee,

Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee. Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring;

With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight. Fine and woollen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple,

Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest; Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest

Me, and thyself, and, perchance, even a third with it too. Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly Immortals,

Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast! Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments.

When, in their stead, care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm. Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of hell with their harking

Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair, As by the motionless spectre I'm awed, that shows me the fair one

Far away: of a truth, open the garden-door stands! And another one cometh! For him the fruit, too, is falling,

And for him, also, the fig strengthening honey doth yield! Doth she entice him as well to the arbour? He follows? Oh, make me

Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind! Yes, she is but a maiden! And she who to one doth so quickly

Yield, to another ere long, doubtless, Will turn herself round. Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken!

Thunder more fearfully! Strike!--Stay--thy fierce lightnings withhold! Hurl at me thy quivering bolt! In the darkness of midnight

Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck! Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows

All these wares, and let me be to the dolphins a prey Now, ye Muses, enough! In vain would ye strive to depicture

How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss. Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted;

Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.

1796. -----

HERMANN AND DOROTHEA.

IN NINE CANTOS.

I. KALLIOPE.

FATE AND SYMPATHY.

"NE'ER have I seen the market and streets so thoroughly empty! Still as the grave is the town, clear'd out! I verily fancy Fifty at most of all our inhabitants still may be found there. People are so inquisitive! All are running and racing Merely to see the sad train of poor fellows driven to exile. Down to the causeway now building, the distance nearly a league is, And they thitherward rush, in the heat and the dust of the noonday. As for me, I had rather not stir from my place just to stare at Worthy and sorrowful fugitives, who, with what goods they can carry, Leaving their own fair land on the further side of the Rhine-stream, Over to us are crossing, and wander through the delightful Nooks of this fruitful vale, with all its twistings and windings. Wife, you did right well to bid our son go and meet them, Taking with him old linen, and something to eat and to drink too, Just to give to the poor; the rich are bound to befriend them. How he is driving along! How well he holds in the horses! Then the new little carriage looks very handsome; inside it Four can easily sit, besides the one on the coachbox. This time he is alone; how easily-turns it the corner!" Thus to his wife the host of the Golden Lion discoursed, Sitting at ease in the porch of his house adjoining the market. Then replied as follows the shrewd and sensible hostess "Father, I don't like giving old linen away, for I find it Useful in so many ways, 'tis not to he purchased for money Just when it's wanted. And yet to-day I gladly have given Many excellent articles, shirts and covers and suchlike; For I have heard of old people and children walking half-naked. Will you forgive me, too, for having ransacked your presses? That grand dressing-gown, cover'd with Indian flowers all over, Made of the finest calico, lined with excellent flannel, I have despatch'd with the rest; 'tis thin, old, quite out of fashion."

But the worthy landlord only smiled, and then answer'd I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment, Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer. Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket, Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!"

"See," continued his wife, "a few are already returning Who have seen the procession, which long ago must have pass'd by. See how dusty their shoes are, and how their faces are glowing Each one carries a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his forehead. I, for one, wouldn't hurry and worry myself in such weather Merely to see such a sight! I'm certain to hear all about it."

And the worthy father, speaking with emphasis, added "Such fine weather seldom lasts through the whole of the harvest And we're bringing the fruit home, just as the hay we brought lately, Perfectly dry; the sky is clear, no cloud's in the heavens, And the whole day long delicious breezes are blowing. Splendid weather I call it! The corn already too ripe is, And to-morrow begin we to gather the plentiful harvest."

Whilst he was thus discoursing, the number of men and of women Crossing the market and going towards home kept ever increasing; And there return'd amongst others, bringing with him his daughters, On the other side of the market, their prosperous neighbour, Going full speed to his newbuilt house, the principal merchant, Riding inside an open carriage (in Landau constructed). All the streets were alive; for the town, though small, was well peopled, Many a factory throve there, and many a business also.

Long sat the excellent couple under the doorway, exchanging Many a passing remark on the people who happen'd to pass them. Presently thus to her husband exclaim'd the good-natured hostess "See! Yon comes the minister; with him is walking the druggist: They'll be able to give an account of all that has happen'd, What they witness'd, and many a sight I fear which was painful."

Both of them came in a friendly manner, and greeted the couple, Taking their seats on the wooden benches under the doorway, Shaking the dust from their feet, their handkerchiefs using to fan them. Presently, after exchanging reciprocal greetings, the druggist Open'd his mouth, and almost peevishly vented his feelings "What strange creatures men are! They all resemble each other, All take pleasure in staring, when troubles fall on their neighbours. Ev'ry one runs to see the flames destroying a dwelling, Or a poor criminal led in terror and shame to the scaffold. All the town has been out to gaze at the sorrowing exiles, None of them bearing in mind that a like misfortune hereafter, Possibly almost directly, may happen to be their own portion. I can't pardon such levity; yet 'tis the nature of all men." Thereupon rejoin'd the noble and excellent pastor, He, the charm of the town, in age scarce more than a stripling:-- (He was acquainted with life, and knew the wants of his hearers, Fully convinced of the worth of the Holy Scriptures, whose mission Is to reveal man's fate, his inclinations to fathom; He was also well read in the best of secular writings.) "I don't like to find fault with any innocent impulse Which in the mind of man Dame Nature has ever implanted; For what reason and intellect ne'er could accomplish, is often Done by some fortunate, quite irresistible instinct within him. If mankind were never by curiosity driven, Say, could they e'er have found out for themselves the wonderful manner Things in the world