Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 261
Yet we do so, void of terror,
In the Muses’ silent groves.
What I err’d in, what corrected,
What I suffer’d, what effected,
To this wreath as flow’rs belong;
For the ag’d, and the youthful,
And the vicious, and the truthful,
All are fair when view’d in song.
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THE NEW AMADIS
IN my boyhood’s days so drear
I was kept confin’d;
There I sat for many a year,
All alone I pin’d,
As within the womb.
Yet thou drov’st away my gloom,
Golden phantasy!
I became a hero true,
Like the Prince Pipi,
And the world roam’d through;
Many a crystal palace built,
Crush’d them with like art,
And the Dragon’s life-blood spilt
With my glitt’ring dart.
Yes! I was a man!
Next I form’d the knightly plan
Princess Fish to free;
She was much too complaisànt,
Kindly welcom’d me, —
And I was gallant.
Heav’nly bread her kisses prov’d,
Glowing as the wine;
Almost unto death I lov’d.
Suns appear’d to shine
In her dazzling charms.
Who hath torn her from mine arms?
Could no magic band
Make her in her flight delay?
Say, where now her land?
Where, alas, the way?
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WHEN THE FOX DIES, HIS SKIN COUNTS.
WE young people in the shade
Sat one sultry day;
Cupid came, and “Dies the Fox”
With us sought to play.
Each one of my friends then sat
By his mistress dear;
Cupid, blowing out the torch,
Said: “The taper’s here!”
Then we quickly sent around
The expiring brand;
Each one put it hastily
In his neighbor’s hand.
Dorilis then gave it me,
With a scoffing jest;
Sudden into flame it broke,
By my fingers press’d.
And it sing’d my eyes and face,
Set my breast on fire;
Then above my head the blaze
Mounted ever higher.
Vain I sought to put it out;
Ever burn’d the flame;
‘Stead of dying, soon the Fox
Livelier still became.
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THE HEATHROSE.
ONCE a boy a Rosebud spi’d,
Heathrose fair and tender,
All array’d in youthful pride, —
Quickly to the spot he hi’d,
Ravish’d by her splendor.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
Said the boy, “I’ll now pick thee,
Heathrose fair and tender!”
Said the rosebud, “I’ll prick thee,
So that thou’lt remember me,
Ne’er will I surrender!”
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
Now the cruel boy must pick
Heathrose fair and tender;
Rosebud did her best to prick, —
Vain ’twas ‘gainst her fate to kick —
She must needs surrender.
Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
Heathrose fair and tender!
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BLINDMAN’S BUFF.
OH, my Theresa dear!
Thine eyes I greatly fear
Can through the bandage see!
Although thine eyes are bound,
By thee I’m quickly found,
And wherefore should’st thou
catch but me?
Ere long thou held’st me fast,
With arms around me cast,
Upon thy breast I fell;
Scarce was thy bandage gone,
When all my joy was flown,
Thou coldly didst the blind repel.
He grop’d on ev’ry side,
His limbs he sorely tried,
While scoffs arose all round;
If thou no love wilt give,
In sadness I shall live,
As if mine eyes remain’d still bound.
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CHRISTEL.
MY senses ofttimes are oppress’d,
Oft stagnant is my blood;
But when by Christel’s sight I’m bless’d,
I feel my strength renew’d.
I see her here, I see her there,
And really cannot tell
The manner how, the when, the where,
The why I love her well.
If with the merest glance I view
Her black and roguish eyes,
And gaze on her black eyebrows too,
My spirit upward flies.
Has any one a mouth so sweet,
Such love-round cheeks as she?
Ah, when the eye her beauties meet,
It ne’er content can be.
And when in airy German dance
I clasp her form divine,
So quick we whirl, so quick advance,
What rapture then like mine!
And when she’s giddy, and feels warm,
I cradle her, poor thing,
Upon my breast, and in mine arm, —
I’m then a very king!
And when she looks with love on me,
Forgetting all but this,
When press’d against my bosom, she
Exchanges kiss for kiss,
All through my marrow runs a thrill,
Runs e’en my foot along!
I feel so well, I feel so ill,
I feel so weak, so strong!
Would that such moments ne’er would end!
The day ne’er long I find;
Could I the night too with her spend,
E’en that I should not mind.
If she were in mine arms but held,
To quench love’s thirst I’d try;
And could my torments not be quell’d,
Upon her breast would die.
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THE COY ONE.
ONE Spring morning bright and fair,
Roam’d a shepherdess and sang;
Young and beauteous, free from care,
Through the fields her clear notes rang:
So, la, la! le ralla, etc.
Of his lambs some two or three
Thyrsis offer’d for a kiss;
First she ey’d him roguishly,
Then for answer sang but this:
So, la, la! le ralla, etc.
Ribbons did the next one offer,
And the third, his heart so true;
But, as with the lambs, the scoffer
Laugh’d at heart and ribbons too, —
Still ’twas la! le ralla, etc.
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THE CONVERT.
BEFORE sunset I was straying
Silently the wood along,
Damon on his flute was playing,
And the rocks gave back the song,
So la, la! etc.
Softly tow’rds him then he drew me;
Sweet each kiss he gave me then!
And I said, “Play once more to me!”
/> And he kindly play’d again,
So la, la! etc.
All my peace for aye has fleeted,
All my happiness has flown;
Yet my ears are ever greeted
With that olden, blissful tone,
So la, la! etc.
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PRESERVATION.
MY maiden she prov’d false to me;
To hate all joys I soon began,
Then to a flowing stream I ran, —
The stream ran past me hastily.
There stood I fix’d, in mute despair;
My head swam round as in a dream;
I well-nigh fell into the stream,
And earth seem’d with me whirling there.
Sudden I heard a voice that cried —
I had just turn’d my face from thence —
It was a voice to charm each sense:
“Beware, for deep is yonder tide!”
A thrill my blood pervaded now,
I look’d, and saw a beauteous maid; —
I ask’d her name — ’twas Kate, she said —
“Oh, lovely Kate! how kind art thou!
“From death I have been sav’d by thee,
’Tis through thee only that I live;
Little ‘twere life alone to give,
My joy in life then deign to be!”
And then I told my sorrows o’er,
Her eyes to earth she sweetly threw;
I kiss’d her, and she kiss’d me too,
And — then I talk’d of death no more.
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THE MUSES’ SON.
THROUGH field and wood to stray,
And pipe my tuneful lay, —
’Tis thus my days are pass’d;
And all keep tune with me,
And move in harmony,
And so on, to the last.
To wait I scarce have pow’r
The garden’s earliest flow’r,
The tree’s first bloom in Spring;
They hail my joyous strain, —
When Winter comes again,
Of that sweet dream I sing.
My song sounds far and near,
O’er ice it echoes clear,
Then Winter blossoms bright;
And when his blossoms fly,
Fresh raptures meet mine eye,
Upon the well-till’d height.
When ‘neath the linden tree,
Young folks I chance to see,
I set them moving soon;
His nose the dull lad curls,
The formal maiden whirls,
Obedient to my tune.
Wings to the feet ye lend,
O’er hill and vale ye send
The lover far from home;
When shall I, on your breast,
Ye kindly Muses, rest,
And cease at length to roam?
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FOUND.
ONCE through the forest
Alone I went;
To seek for nothing
My thoughts were bent.
I saw in the shadow
A flower stand there;
As stars it glisten’d,
As eyes ’twas fair.
I sought to pluck it, —
It gently said:
“Shall I be gather’d
Only to fade?”
With all its roots
I dug it with care,
And took it home
To my garden fair.
In silent corner
Soon it was set;
There grows it ever,
There blooms it yet.
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LIKE AND LIKE.
EARLY a bell-flower
Sprang up from the ground;
And sweetly its fragrance
It shed all around;
A bee came thither
And sipp’d from its bell; —
That they for each other
Were made, we see well.
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RECIPROCAL INVITATION TO THE DANCE.
The Indifferent.
COME to the dance with me, come with me, fair one!
Dances a feast-day like this may well crown.
If thou my sweetheart art not, thou canst be so,
But if thou wilt not, we still will dance on.
Come to the dance with me, come with me, fair one!
Dances a feast-day like this may well crown.
The Tender.
Lov’d one, without thee, what then would all feasts be?
Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance?
If thou my sweetheart wert not, I would dance not,
If thou art still so, all life is one feast.
Lov’d one, without thee, what then would all feasts be?
Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance?
The Indifferent.
Let them but love, then, and leave us the dancing!
Languishing love cannot bear the glad dance.
Let us whirl round in the waltz’s gay measure,
And let them steal to the dim-lighted wood.
Let them but love, then, and leave us the dancing!
Languishing love cannot bear the glad dance.
The Tender.
Let them whirl round, then, and leave us to wander!
Wand’ring to love is a heavenly dance.
Cupid, the near one, o’erhears their deriding,
Vengeance takes suddenly, vengeance takes soon.
Let them whirl round, then, and leave us to wander!
Wand’ring to love is a heavenly dance.
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SELF-DECEIT.
MY neighbor’s curtain, well I see;
Is moving to and fro.
No doubt she’s list’ning eagerly,
If I’m at home or no,
And if the jealous grudge I bore
And openly confess’d,
Is nourish’d by me as before,
Within my inmost breast.
Alas! no fancies such as these
E’er cross’d the dear child’s thoughts.
I see ’tis but the ev’ning breeze
That with the curtain sports.
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DECLARATION OF WAR.
OH, would I resembl’d
The country girls fair,
Who rosy-red ribbons
And yellow hats wear!
To believe I was pretty
I thought was allow’d;
In the town I believ’d it
When by the youth vow’d.
Now that Spring hath return’d,
All my joys disappear;
The girls of the country
Have lured him from here.
To change dress and figure
Was needful I found;
My bodice is longer,
My petticoat round.
My hat now is yellow,
My bodice like snow;
The clover to sickle
With others I go.
Something pretty, ere long
Midst the troop he explores;
The eager boy signs me
To go within doors.
I bashfully go, —
Who I am, he can’t trace;
He pinches my cheeks,
And he looks in my face.
The town girl now threatens
You maidens with war;
Her twofold charms pledges
Of victory are.
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Alp
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LOVER IN ALL SHAPES.
TO be like a fish,
Brisk and quick, is my wish;
If thou cam’st with thy line,
Thou would’st soon make me thine.
To be like a fish,
Brisk and quick, is my wish.
Oh, were I a steed!
Thou would’st love me indeed.
Oh, were I a car
Fit to bear thee afar!
Oh, were I a steed!
Thou would’st love me indeed.
I would I were gold
That thy fingers might hold!
If thou boughtest aught then,
I’d return soon again.
I would I were gold
That thy fingers might hold!
I would I were true,
And my sweetheart still new!
To be faithful I’d swear,
And would go away ne’er.
I would I were true,
And my sweetheart still new!
I would I were old,
And wrinkled and cold,
So that if thou said’st No,
I could stand such a blow!
I would I were old,
And wrinkled and cold.
An ape I would be,
Full of mischievous glee;
If aught came to vex thee
I’d plague and perplex thee.
An ape I would be,
Full of mischievous glee.
As a lamb I’d behave,
As a lion be brave,
As a lynx clearly see,
As a fox cunning be.
As a lamb I’d behave,
As a lion be brave.
Whatever I were,
All on thee I’d confer;
With the gifts of a prince
My affection evince.
Whatever I were,
All on thee I’d confer.
As nought diff’rent can make me,
As I am thou must take me!
If I’m not good enough,
Thou must cut thine own stuff.
As nought diff’rent can make me,
As I am thou must take me!
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THE GOLDSMITH’S APPRENTICE.
MY neighbor, none can e’er deny,
Is a most beauteous maid;
Her shop is ever in mine eye
When working at my trade.
To ring and chain I hammer then
The wire of gold assay’d,
And think the while: “For Kate, oh, when
Will such a ring be made?”
And when she takes her shutters down,
Her shop at once invade,
To buy and haggle, all the town,
For all that’s there display’d.
I file, and maybe overfile
The wire of gold assay’d;
My master grumbles all the while, —
Her shop the mischief made.
To ply her wheel she straight begins,
When not engag’d in trade;