Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe


  On honor, worth, or virtue, judgment pass’d.

  Survey them singly, thou wilt not find one

  Of whom his neighbor needs to feel asham’d!”

  And then the lists were open’d, chargers pranc’d,

  Esquires press’d forward, helmets brightly gleam’d,

  The trumpet sounded, shivering lances split,

  The din of clanging helm and shield was heard,

  And for a moment eddying dust conceal’d

  The victor’s honor and the vanquisa’d’s shame.

  Oh, let me draw a curtain o’er the scene,

  The all too brilliant spectacle conceal,

  That in this tranquil hour I may not feel

  Too painfully mine own unworthiness!

  Princess.

  If that bright circle and those noble deeds

  Arous’d thee then to enterprise and toil,

  I could the while, young friend, have tutor’d thee

  In the still lesson of calm sufferance.

  The brilliant festival thou dost extol,

  Which then and since a hundred voices prais’d,

  I did not witness. In a lonely spot,

  So tranquil that unbroken on the ear

  Joy’s lightest echo faintly died away,

  A prey to pain and melancholy thoughts,

  I was compell’d to pass the tedious hours.

  Before me hover’d on extended wing

  Death’s awful form, concealing from my view

  The prospect of this ever-changing world.

  Slowly it disappear’d, and I beheld,

  As through a veil, the varied hues of life,

  Pleasing but indistinct: while living forms

  Began once more to flicker through the gloom.

  Still feeble, and supported by my women,

  For the first time my silent room I left,

  When hither, full of happiness and life,

  Thee leading by the hand, Lucretta came.

  A stranger then, thou, Tasso, wast the first

  To welcome me on my return to life.

  Much then I hop’d for both of us, and hope

  Hath not, methinks, deceiv’d us hitherto.

  Tasso.

  Stunn’d by the tumult, dazzled by the glare,

  Impetuous passions stirring in my breast,

  I by thy sister’s side pursu’d my way

  In silence through the stately corridors,

  Then in the chamber enter’d, where ere long

  Thou didst appear supported by thy women.

  Oh, what a moment! Princess, pardon me!

  As in the presence of a deity

  The victim of enchantment feels with joy

  His frenzied spirit from delusion freed,

  So was my soul from every phantasy,

  From every passion, every false desire

  Restor’d at once by one calm glance of thine.

  And if, before, my inexperienc’d mind

  Had lost itself in infinite desires,

  I then, with shame, first turn’d my gaze within,

  And recogniz’d the truly valuable.

  Thus on the wide sea-shore we seek in vain

  The pearl, reposing in its silent shell.

  Princess.

  ’Twas the commencement of a happy time.

  And had Urbino’s duke not led away

  My sister from us, many years had pass’d

  For us is calm, unclouded happiness

  But now, alas! we miss her all too much.

  Miss her free spirit, buoyancy and ire.

  And the rich war of the accomplish’d woman.

  Tasso.

  Too well I know since she departed hence

  None hath been able to supply to thee

  The pure enjoyment which her presence gave.

  Alas, how often hath it griev’d my soul!

  How often have I in the silent grove

  Pour’d forth my lamentation! How! I cried.

  Is it her sister’s right and joy alone

  To be a treasure to the dear one’s heart?

  Does then no other soul respond to hers,

  No other heart her confidence deserve?

  Are soul and wit extinguish’d? and should one,

  How great soe’er her worth, engross her love?

  Forgive me, princess! Often I have wish’d

  I could be something to thee, — little, perhaps,

  But something; not with words alone, with deeds

  I wish’d to be so, and in life to prove

  How I had worshipp’d thee in solitude,

  But I could ne’er succeed, and but too oft

  In error wounded thee, offending one

  By thee protected, or perplexing more

  What thou didst wish to solve, and thus, alas!

  E’en in the moment when I fondly strove

  To draw more near thee, felt more distant still.

  Princess.

  Thy wish I never have misconstru’d, Tasso;

  How thou dost prejudice thyself I know;

  Unlike my sister, who possess’d the art

  Of living happily with every one,

  After so many years, thou art in sooth

  Thyself well nigh unfriended.

  Tasso.

  Censure me!

  But after say, where shall I find the man,

  The woman where, to whom as unto thee

  I freely can unbosom every thought?

  Princess.

  Thou should’st in my brother more confide.

  Tasso.

  He is my Prince! — Yet do not hence suppose

  That freedom’s lawless impulse swells my breast.

  Man is not born for freedom, and to serve

  A prince deserving honor and esteem

  Is a pure pleasure to a noble mind.

  He is my sovereign, of that great word

  I deeply feel the full significance.

  I must be silent when he speaks, and learn

  To do what he commandeth, though perchance

  My heart and understanding both rebel.

  Princess.

  That with my brother never can befall.

  And in Antonio, who is now return’d,

  Thou wilt possess another prudent friend.

  Tasso.

  I hop’d it once, now almost I despair.

  His converse how instructive, and his words

  How useful in a thousand instances!

  For he possesses, I may truly say.

  All that in me is wanting. But, alas!

  When round his cradle all the gods assembled

  To bring their gifts, the Graces were not there;

  And he who lacks what these fair powers impart,

  May much possess, may much communicate,

  But on his bosom we can ne’er repose.

  Princess.

  But we can trust in him, and that is much.

  Thou should’st not, Tasso, in one man expect

  All qualities combin’d; Antonio

  What he hath promis’d surely will perform.

  If he have once declar’d himself thy friend,

  He’ll care for thee, where thou dost fail thyself

  Ye must be friends! I cherish the fond hope

  Ere long this gracious work to consummate.

  Only oppose me not, as is thy wont.

  Then, Leonora long hath sojourn’d here,

  Who is at once refin’d and elegant;

  Her easy manners banish all restraint,

  Yet thou hast ne’er approach’d her as she wish’d.

  Tasso.

  To thee I hearken’d, or believe me, princess,

  I should have rather shunn’d her than approach’d,

  Though she appear so kind, I know not why,

  I can but rarely feel at ease with her;

  E’en when her purpose is to aid her friends,

  They feel the purpose, and are thence constrain’d.

  P
rincess.

  Upon this pathway, Tasso, nevermore

  Will glad companionship be ours! This track

  Leadeth us on through solitary groves

  And silent vales to wander; more and more

  The spirit is untun’d, and fondly strives

  The golden age, that from the outer world

  For aye hath vanish’d, to restore within,

  How vain soever the attempt may prove.

  Tasso.

  Oh, what a word, my princess, hast thou spoken!

  The golden age, ah, whither is it flown,

  For which in secret every heart repines?

  When o’er the yet unsubjugated earth

  Men roam’d, like herds, in joyous liberty;

  When on the flowery lawn an ancient tree

  Lent to the shepherd and the shepherdess

  Its grateful shadow, and the leafy grove

  Its tender branches lovingly entwin’d

  Around confiding love; when still and clear,

  O’er sands forever pure, the pearly stream

  The nymph’s fair form encircled; when the snake

  Glided innoxious through the verdant grass,

  And the bold youth pursu’d the daring faun;

  When every bird winging the limpid air,

  And every living thing o’er hill and dale

  Proclaim’d to man, — What pleases is allow’d.

  Princess.

  My friend, the golden age hath pass’d away;

  Only the good have power to bring it back;

  Shall I confess to thee my secret thought?

  The golden age, wherewith the bard is wont

  Our spirits to beguile, that lovely prime,

  Existed in the past no more than now;

  And did it e’er exist, believe me, Tasso,

  As then it was, it now may be restor’d.

  Still meet congenial spirits, and enhance

  Each other’s pleasure in this beauteous world;

  But in the motto change one single word,

  And say, my friend: — What’s fitting is allow’d.

  Tasso.

  Would that of good and noble men were form’d

  A great tribunal, to decide for all

  What is befitting! then no more would each

  Esteem that right which benefits himself.

  The man of power acts ever as he lists,

  And whatsoe’er he doth is fitting deem’d.

  Princess.

  Would’st thou define exactly what is fitting,

  Thou should’st apply, methinks, to noble women;

  For them it most behoveth that in life

  Naught should be done unseemly or unfit;

  Propriety encircles with a wall

  The tender, weak, and vulnerable sex.

  Where moral order reigneth, women reign,

  They only are despis’d where rudeness triumphs;

  And would’st thou touching either sex inquire,

  ’Tis order woman seeketh; freedom, man.

  Tasso.

  Thou thinkest us unfeeling, wild and rude?

  Princess.

  Not so! but ye with violence pursue

  A multitude of objects far remote.

  Ye venture for eternity to act,

  While we, with views more narrow, on this earth

  Seek only one possession, well content

  If that with constancy remain our own.

  For we, alas! are of no heart secure,

  Whate’er the ardor of its first devotion.

  Beauty is transient, which alone ye seem

  To hold in honor; what beside remains

  No longer charms, — what doth not charm is dead.

  If among men there were who knew to prize

  The heart of woman, who could recognize

  What treasures of fidelity and love

  Are garner’d safely in a woman’s breast

  If the remembrance of bright single hours

  Could vividly abide within your souls;

  If your so searching glance could pierce the veil

  Which age and wasting sickness o’er us fling;

  If the possession which should satisfy

  Waken’d no restless cravings in your hearts:

  Then were our happy days indeed arriv’d,

  We then should celebrate our golden age.

  Tasso.

  Thy words, my princess, in my breast awake

  An old anxiety half lull’d to sleep.

  Princess.

  What mean’st thou, Tasso? Freely speak with me.

  Tasso.

  I oft before have heard, and recently

  Again it hath been rumor’d, — had I not

  Been told, I might have known it, — princes strive

  To win thy hand. What we must needs expect

  We view with dread, nay, almost with despair.

  Thou wilt forsake us, — it is natural:

  Yet how we shall endure it, know I not.

  Princess.

  Be for the present moment unconcern’d!

  Almost, I might say, unconcern’d forever.

  I am contented still to tarry here,

  Nor know I any tie to lure me hence.

  And if thou would’st indeed detain me, Tasso,

  Live peaceably with all, so shalt thou lead

  A happy life thyself, and I through thee.

  Tasso.

  Teach me to do whate’er is possible!

  My life itself is consecrate to thee.

  When to extol thee and to give thee thanks

  My heart unfolded, I experienc’d first

  The purest happiness that man can feel.

  My soul’s ideal I first found in thee.

  As destiny supreme is rais’d above

  The wile and counsel of the wisest men,

  So tower the gods of earth o’er common mortals.

  The rolling surge which we behold with dread

  Doth all unheeded murmur at their feet

  Lake gentle billows; they hear not the storm

  Which blusters round us, scarcely heed our prayers,

  And treat us as we helpless children treat.

  Letting us fill the air with sighs and plaints.

  Thou hast, divine one! often borne with me,

  And like the radiant sun, thy pitying glance

  Hath from mine eyelid dried the dew of sorrow.

  Princess.

  ’Tis only just that women cordially

  Should meet the poet, whose heroic song

  In strains so varied glorifies the sex.

  Tender or valiant, thou hast ever known

  To represent them amiable and noble;

  And if Armida is deserving hate,

  Her love and beauty reconcile us to her.

  Tasso.

  Whatever in my song doth reach the heart

  And find an echo there, I owe to one,

  And one alone! No image undefin’d

  Hover’d before my soul, approaching now

  In radiant glory, to retire again.

  I have myself, with mine own eyes, beheld

  The type of every virtue, every grace;

  What I have copied thence will aye endure;

  The heroic love of Tancred to Clorinda,

  Erminia’s silent and unnotic’d truth,

  Sophronia’s greatness and Olinda’s woe;

  These are not shadows by illusion bred;

  I know they are eternal, for they are.

  And what is more deserving to survive,

  And silently to work for centuries,

  Than the confession of a noble love

  Confided modestly to gentle song?

  Princess.

  And shall I name to thee another charm

  Which, all unconsciously, this song may claim?

  It doth allure us still to listen to it:

  We listen, and we think we understand;

  We understand, and yet we censure not,<
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  So with thy song, thou winnest us at last.

  Tasso.

  Oh, what a heaven thou dost open to me,

  My princess! if this radiance blinds me not,

  I see unhop’d-for and eternal bliss

  Descending gloriously on golden beams.

  Princess.

  No further, Tasso! many things there are

  That we may hope to win with violence;

  While others only can become our own

  Through moderation and wise self-restraint.

  Such, it is said, is virtue, such is love,

  Which is allied to her. Think well of this!

  artist: herm. schneider.

  TORQUATO TASSO. ACT II, SCENE I.

  the princess and tasso.

  SCENE II.

  Tasso.

  And art thou then allow’d to raise thine eyes?

  Around thee dar’st thou gaze? Thou art alone!

  O’erheard these pillars what the princess spake?

  And hast thou witnesses, dumb witnesses

  Of thine exalted happiness to fear?

  The sun arises of a new life-day,

  Whose splendor dims the light of former days.

  The goddess, downward stooping, swiftly bears

  Aloft the mortal. What a wide expanse

  Is to mine eye discover’d, what a realm!

  How richly recompens’d my burning wish!

  In dreams the highest happiness seem’d near,

  This happiness surpasses all my dreams.

  The man born blind conceiveth as he may

  Of light and color; when upon his eye

  The daylight pours, he hails a new-born sense.

  Full of vague hope and courage, drunk with joy,

  Reeling I tread this path. Thou giv’st me much;

  Thou givest lavishly, as earth and heaven,

  With bounteous hand, dispense their costly gifts,

  Demanding in return what such a boon

  Alone empowers thee to demand from me.

  I must be moderate, I must forbear,

  And thus deserve thy cherish’d confidence,

  What have I ever done that she should choose me?

  What can I do to merit her regard?

  Her very confidence doth prove thy worth.

  Yes, princess, to thine every word and look,

  Be my whole soul forever consecrate!

  Ask what thou wilt, for I am wholly thine!

  To distant regions let her send me forth

  In quest of toil, and danger, and renown;

  Or in the grove, present the golden lyre,

  Devoting me to quiet and her praise.

  Hers am I, me possessing, she shall mould!

  For her my heart hath garner’d every treasure.

  Oh, had some heavenly power bestow’d on me

  An organ thousandfold, I scarcely then

  Could utter forth my speechless reverence.

  The painter’s pencil, and the poet’s lip,

  The sweetest that e’er sipp’d the vernal honey,

 

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