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

class="calibre6"> 1767-9. -----

THE WEDDING NIGHT.

WITHIN the chamber, far away

From the glad feast, sits Love in dread Lest guests disturb, in wanton play,

The silence of the bridal bed. His torch's pale flame serves to gild

The scene with mystic sacred glow; The room with incense-clouds is fil'd,

That ye may perfect rapture know.

How beats thy heart, when thou dost hear

The chime that warns thy guests to fly! How glow'st thou for those lips so dear,

That soon are mute, and nought deny! With her into the holy place

Thou hast'nest then, to perfect all; The fire the warder's hands embrace,

Grows, like a night-light, dim and small.

How heaves her bosom, and how burns

Her face at every fervent kiss! Her coldness now to trembling turns,

Thy daring now a duty is. Love helps thee to undress her fast,

But thou art twice as fast as he; And then he shuts both eye at last,

With sly and roguish modesty.

1767. -----

MISCHIEVOUS JOY.

AS a butterfly renew'd,

When in life I breath'd my last,

To the spots my flight I wing,

Scenes of heav'nly rapture past,

Over meadows, to the spring, Round the hill, and through the wood.

Soon a tender pair I spy,

And I look down from my seat

On the beauteous maiden's head--

When embodied there I meet

All I lost as soon as dead, Happy as before am I.

Him she clasps with silent smile,

And his mouth the hour improves,

Sent by kindly Deities;

First from breast to mouth it roves,

Then from mouth to hands it flies, And I round him sport the while.

And she sees me hov'ring near;

Trembling at her lovers rapture,

Up she springs--I fly away,

"Dearest! let's the insect capture

Come! I long to make my prey Yonder pretty little dear!"

1767-9. -----

APPARENT DEATH.

WEEP, maiden, weep here o'er the tomb of Love;

He died of nothing--by mere chance was slain. But is he really dead?--oh, that I cannot prove:

A nothing, a mere chance, oft gives him life again.

1767-9. -----

NOVEMBER SONG.

To the great archer--not to him

To meet whom flies the sun, And who is wont his features dim

With clouds to overrun--

But to the boy be vow'd these rhymes,

Who 'mongst the roses plays, Who hear us, and at proper times

To pierce fair hearts essays.

Through him the gloomy winter night,

Of yore so cold and drear, Brings many a loved friend to our sight,

And many a woman dear.

Henceforward shall his image fair

Stand in yon starry skies, And, ever mild and gracious there,

Alternate set and rise.

1815.* -----

TO THE CHOSEN ONE. [This sweet song is doubtless one of those addressed to Frederica.]

HAND in hand! and lip to lip!

Oh, be faithful, maiden dear! Fare thee well! thy lover's ship

Past full many a rock must steers But should he the haven see,

When the storm has ceased to break, And be happy, reft of thee,--

May the Gods fierce vengeance take!

Boldly dared is well nigh won!

Half my task is solved aright; Ev'ry star's to me a sun,

Only cowards deem it night. Stood I idly by thy side,

Sorrow still would sadden me; But when seas our paths divide,

Gladly toil I,--toil for thee!

Now the valley I perceive,

Where together we will go, And the streamlet watch each eve,

Gliding peacefully below Oh, the poplars on yon spot!

Oh, the beech trees in yon grove! And behind we'll build a cot,

Where to taste the joys of love!

1771. -----

FIRST LOSS.

AH! who'll e'er those days restore,

Those bright days of early love Who'll one hour again concede,

Of that time so fondly cherish'd! Silently my wounds I feed, And with wailing evermore

Sorrow o'er each joy now perish'd. Ah! who'll e'er the days restore

Of that time so fondly cherish'd.

1789.* -----

AFTER-SENSATIONS.

WHEN the vine again is blowing,

Then the wine moves in the cask; When the rose again is glowing,

Wherefore should I feel oppress'd?

Down my cheeks run tears all-burning,

If I do, or leave my task; I but feel a speechless yearning,

That pervades my inmost breast.

But at length I see the reason,

When the question I would ask: 'Twas in such a beauteous season,

Doris glowed to make me blest! 1797. -----

PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE.

I THINK of thee, whene'er the sun his beams

O'er ocean flings; I think of thee, whene'er the moonlight gleams

In silv'ry springs.

I see thee, when upon the distant ridge

The dust awakes; At midnight's hour, when on the fragile bridge

The wanderer quakes.

I hear thee, when yon billows rise on high,

With murmur deep. To tread the silent grove oft wander I,

When all's asleep.

I'm near thee, though thou far away mayst be--

Thou, too, art near! The sun then sets, the stars soon lighten me.

Would thou wert here!

1795. -----

PRESENCE.

ALL things give token of thee! As soon as the bright sun is shining, Thou too wilt follow, I trust.

When in the garden thou walk'st, Thou then art the rose of all roses, Lily of lilies as well.

When thou dost move in the dance, Then each constellation moves also; With thee and round thee they move.

Night! oh, what bliss were the night! For then thou o'ershadow'st the lustre, Dazzling and fair, of the moon.

Dazzling and beauteous art thou, And flowers, and moon, and the planets Homage pay, Sun, but to thee.

Sun! to me also be thou Creator of days bright and glorious; Life and Eternity this!

1813. -----

TO THE DISTANT ONE.

AND have I lost thee evermore?

Hast thou, oh fair one, from me flown? Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore,

Thine ev'ry word, thine ev'ry tone.

As when at morn the wand'rer's eye

Attempts to pierce the air in vain, When, hidden in the azure sky,

The lark high o'er him chaunts his strain:

So do I cast my troubled gaze

Through bush, through forest, o'er the lea; Thou art invoked by all my lays;

Oh, come then, loved one, back to me!

1789.* -----

BY THE RIVER.

FLOW on, ye lays so loved, so fair,

On to Oblivion's ocean flow! May no rapt boy recall you e'er,

No maiden in her beauty's glow!

My love alone was then your theme,

But now she scorns my passion true. Ye were but written in the stream;

As it flows on, then, flow ye too!

1798.* -----

FAREWELL.

To break one's word is pleasure-fraught,

To do one's duty gives a smart; While man, alas! will promise nought,

That is repugnant to his heart.

Using some magic strains of yore,

Thou lurest him, when scarcely calm, On to sweet folly's fragile bark once more,

Renewing, doubling chance of harm.

Why seek to hide thyself from me?

Fly not my sight--be open then! Known late or early it must be,

And here thou hast thy word again.

My duty is fulfill'd to-day,

No longer will I guard thee from surprise; But, oh, forgive the friend who from thee turns away,

And to himself for refuge flies!

1797. -----

THE EXCHANGE.

THE stones in the streamlet I make my bright pillow, And open my arms to the swift-rolling billow,

That lovingly hastens to fall on my breast. Then fickleness soon bids it onwards be flowing; A second draws nigh, its caresses bestowing,--

And so by a twofold enjoyment I'm blest.

And yet thou art trailing in sorrow and sadness The moments that life, as it flies, gave for gladness,

Because by thy love thou'rt remember'd no more! Oh, call back to mind former days and their blisses! The lips of the second will give as sweet kisses

As any the lips of the first gave before!

1767-9. -----

WELCOME AND FAREWELL.

[Another of the love-songs addressed to Frederica.]

QUICK throbb'd my heart: to norse! haste, haste,

And lo! 'twas done with speed of light; The evening soon the world embraced,

And o'er the mountains hung the night. Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak,

A tow'ring giant in his size, Where darkness through the thicket broke,

And glared with hundred gloomy eyes.

From out a hill of clouds the moon

With mournful gaze began to peer: The winds their soft wings flutter'd soon,

And murmur'd in mine awe-struck ear; The night a thousand monsters made,

Yet fresh and joyous was my mind; What fire within my veins then play'd!

What glow was in my bosom shrin'd!

I saw thee, and with tender pride

Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me; While all my heart was at thy side.

And every breath I breath'd for thee. The roseate hues that spring supplies

Were playing round thy features fair, And love for me--ye Deities!

I hoped it, I deserved it ne'er!

But, when the morning sun return'd,

Departure filled with grief my heart: Within thy kiss, what rapture burn'd!

But in thy look, what bitter smart! I went--thy gaze to earth first roved

Thou follow'dst me with tearful eye: And yet, what rapture to be loved!

And, Gods, to love--what ecstasy!

1771. -----

NEW LOVE, NEW LIFE.

[Written at the time of Goethe's connection with Lily.]

HEART! my heart! what means