Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Page 274
And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclos’d.
Oft have I seen thee go, with modesty clad, to the temple,
While thy mother so dear solemnly went by thy side.
Eager and nimble thou wert, in bearing thy fruit to the market,
Boldly the pail from the well didst thou sustain on thy head.
Then was reveal’d thy neck, then seen thy shoulders so beauteous,
Then, before all things, the grace filling thy motions was seen.
Oft have I fear’d that the pitcher perchance was in danger of falling,
Yet it ever remain’d firm on the circular cloth.
Thus, fair neighbor, yes, thus I oft was wont to observe thee,
As on the stars I might gaze, as I might gaze on the moon,
Glad indeed at the sight, yet feeling within my calm bosom
Not the remotest desire ever to call them mine own.
Years thus fleeted away! Although our houses were only
Twenty paces apart, yet I thy threshold ne’er cross’d.
Now by the fearful flood are we parted! Thou liest to heaven,
Billow! thy beautiful blue seems to me dark as the night.
All were now in movement; a boy to the house of my father
Ran at full speed and exclaim’d: “Hasten thee quick to the strand!
Hoisted the sail is already, e’en now in the wind it is flutt’ring,
While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand;
Come, Alexis, oh, come!” — My worthy stout-hearted father
Press’d, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-lock’d head,
While my mother carefully reach’d me a newly-made bundle;
“Happy may’st thou return!” cried they — ”both happy and rich!”
Then I sprang away, and under my arm held the bundle,
Running along by the wall. Standing I found thee hard by,
At the door of thy garden. Thou smilingly saidst then: — ”Alexis!
Say, are yon boisterous crew going thy comrades to be?
Foreign coasts wilt thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase,
Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town.
Bring me, also, I pray thee, a light chain; gladly I’ll pay thee,
Oft have I wish’d to possess some such 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 produc’d by each land.”
So I enter’d 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 thy hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch.
Presently didst thou reach the arbor; there a basket lay,
Sweet blooming myrtle trees wav’d, as we drew nigh, o’er our heads.
Then thou beganst 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 rais’d it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together,
And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscur’d 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 render’d perfect the ring knitting the rapturous pair.
Amor’s hands I felt: he press’d us together with ardor,
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 call’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 wip’d 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 urg’d me away! how press’d I thy hand! Would’st thou ask me
How the vessel I reach’d? Drunken I seem’d, well I know.
Drunken my shipmates believ’d me, and so had pity upon me;
And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscur’d.
“Thine forever!” 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 favoring zephyr!
Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam!
Bring me unto the foreign harbor, so that the goldsmith
May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!
Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, O 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 skilfully 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 lov’d 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 barking
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 arbor? 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.
alexis and dora.
Chronological table of contents
Alphabetical table of contents
Epigrams
Chronological table of contents
Alphabetical table of contents
Venice, 1790.
I.
SARCOPHAGUS and urn erst were with life adorn’d by the heathen:
Fauns are dancing around, while with the Bacchanal troop
Chequer’d circles they trace; and the goat-footed, puffy-cheek’d player
Wildly produceth hoarse tones out of the clamorous horn.
Cymbals and drums resound; we see and we hear, too, the marble.
Fluttering bird! Oh, how sweet tastes the ripe fruit to thy bill!
Noise there is none to disturb thee, still less to scare away Amor,
Who, in the midst of the throng, learns to delight in his torch.
Thus doth fulness overcome death; and the ashes there cover’d
Seem, in that silent domain, still to be gladden’d with life.
Thus may the minstrel’s sarcophagus be hereafter surrounded
With such a scroll, which himself richly with life has adorn’d.
II.
CLASP’D in my arms forever eagerly hold I my mistress,
Ever my panting heart throbs wildly against her dear breast,
And on her knees forever is leaning my head, while I’m gazing
Now on her sweet-smiling mouth, now on her bright sparkling eyes.
“O thou effeminate!” spake one, “and thus, then, thy days thou art spending?”
Ah, they in sorrow are spent. List while I tell thee my tale:
Yes! I have left my only joy in life far behind me,
Twenty long days hath my car borne me away from her sight.
Vetturini defy me, while crafty chamberlains flatter,
And the sly Valet de place thinks but of lies and deceit.
If I attempt to escape, the Postmaster fastens upon me,
Postboys the upper hand get, custom-house duties enrage.
“Truly, I can’t understand thee! thou talkest enigmas! thou seemest
Wrapp’d in a blissful repose, glad as Rinaldo of yore:” —
Ah, I myself understand full well; ’tis my body that travels,
And ’tis my spirit that rests still in my mistress’s arms.
III.
I WOULD liken this gondola unto the soft-rocking cradle,
And the chest on its deck seems a vast coffin to be.
Yes! ‘tween the cradle and coffin, we totter and waver forever
On the mighty canal, careless our lifetime is spent.
IV.
WHY are the people thus busily moving? For food they are seeking,
Children they fain would beget, feeding them well as they can.
Traveller, mark this well, and when thou art home, do thou likewise!
More can no mortal effect, work with what ardor he will.
V.
I WOULD compare to the land this anvil, its lord to the hammer,
And to the people the plate, which in the middle is bent.
Sad is the poor tin-plate’s lot, when the blows are but given at random:
Ne’er will the kettle be made, while they uncertainly fall.
VI.
WHAT is the life of a man? Yet thousands are ever accustom’d
Freely to talk about man, — what he has done, too, and how.
Even less is a poem; yet thousands read and enjoy it,
Thousands abuse it. — My friend, live and continue to rhyme!
VII.
MERRY’S the trade of a poet; but somewhat a dear one, I fear me;
For, as my book grows apace, all of my sequins I lose.
VIII.
IF thou’rt in earnest, no longer delay, but render me happy;
Art thou in jest? Ah, sweet love! time for all jesting is past.
IX.
ART thou, then, vex’d at my silence? What shall I speak of? Thou markest
Neither my sorrowful sigh, nor my soft eloquent look.
Only one goddess is able the seal of my lips to unloosen, —
When by Aurora I’m found, slumbering calm on thy breast.
Ah, then my hymn in the ears of the earliest gods shall be chaunted,
As the Memnonian form breath’d forth sweet secrets in song.
X.
IN the twilight of morning to climb to the top of the mountain, —
Thee to salute, kindly star, earliest herald of day, —
And to await, with impatience, the gaze of the ruler of heaven, —
Youthful delight, oh, how oft lurest thou me out in the night!
O ye heralds of day, ye heavenly eyes of my mistress,
Now ye appear, and the sun evermore riseth too soon.
XI.
THOU art amaz’d, and dost point to the ocean. It seems to be burning,
Flame-crested billows in play dart round our night-moving bark.
Me it astonisheth not, — of the ocean was born Aphrodite, —
Did not a flame, too, proceed from her for us, in her son?
XII.
GLEAMING the ocean appear’d, the beauteous billows were smiling,
While a fresh, favoring wind, filling the sails, drove us on.
Free was my bosom from yearning; yet soon my languishing glances
Turn’d themselves backward in haste, seeking the snow-cover’d hills.
Treasures unnumber’d are southwards lying. Yet one to the northwards
Draws me resistlessly back, like the strong magnet in force.
XIII.
SPACIOUS and fair is the world; yet oh, how I thank the kind heavens
That I a garden possess, small though it be, yet mine own.
One which enticeth me homewards; why should a gardener wander?
Honor and pleasure he finds when to his garden he looks.
XIV.
AH, my maiden is going! she mounts the vessel! My monarch,
Æolus! potentate dread! keep every storm far away!
“O thou fool!” cried the god: “ne’er fear the blustering tempest;
When Love flutters his wings, then may’st thou dread the soft breeze.”
XV.
WILT thou enjoy the pleasures of Love with purest of feelings?
Keep conceit from thy heart — banish solemnity!
Love is scared by the one, the other hopes vainly to chain him:
Ill-affected to both smiles the mischievous god.
Chronological table of contents
Alphabetical table of contents
The Four Seasons.
Lovely children large and small
All the Four our hearts enthrall.
Chronological table of contents
Alphabetical table of contents
SPRING.
I.
ULL ye Distichs, awake! Ye lively youths in your joyance!
Rich are gardens and fields! Bring ye blossoms for wreaths.
II.
Rich is the meadow in flowers; yet the eye cannot claim all their beauty.
Others bloom for the heart. Reader, now choose for thyself!
III.
&n
bsp; Rosebud! thou art the flower of the maiden, rosy and blooming;
Symbol of queenly guise, symbol of modest deport.
IV.
Violets cluster’d together and bound in a delicate nosegay
Making one flower; ’tis thou, home-loving maiden, I mean!
V.
One whom I knew, like a lily was slender. Purity cloth’d her
Pridelike. Such splendor of garb Solomon sure never saw.
VI.
Lovely the Columbine stands and hangs his radiant head down:
Petulance is it, or pride? Answer me now if you can!
VII.
Many odorous bells thou swingest, O Hyacinth, gayly,
Yet nor fragrance or bells have the gift to attract.
VIII.
Hesperus! thee in the garish day men pass without noting;
When the nightingale sings, then thy glory appears.
IX.
Thou, Tuberose, art haughty, and thou rejoicest in freedom,
Yet — away from my sight! Come not nigh to my heart!
X.
Glowing the Poppy I see in the distance; when I come nearer,
Ah! then I learn thee too late! thou that apest the Rose.
XI.
Tulips, I know ye are scorn’d by those who take pride in æsthetics;
Courage! a thought that’s robust needs a lusty leaf.
XII.
Pinks! how lovely ye are! Yet ye all resemble each other.
Who can distinguish? Not I! How then, pray, can I choose?
XIII.
Flush with the colors of dawn Ranunculus, Tulips and Asters!
Here is a dark fragrant flower, puts you all to the blush.
XIV.
Crowsfoot! none of thy sisters attract me; desire ye awake not;
Yet, commingled in beds, pleasure ye give to the eye.
XV.
Tell me what perfumes the chamber? Mignonette, fragrant and pleasing,
Colorless, shapeless and still, modest and sensible plant.
XVI.
Ornament fit for the garden, where’er thou appearest, thou sayest:
“Ceres, the Queen, with her hand scatter’d me forth with the grain.”
XVII.
Sweetest of dainty flowers! thy eyes so tender they whisper
Always, “Forget-me-not!” always, “Forget not thy friend!”
XVIII.
If from the eye of the mind the forms of the flowers should all vanish,
Eleonore! thy face would’st ever remain in my heart!
Chronological table of contents
Alphabetical table of contents
SUMMER.
XIX.
TERRIBLE, Love shows himself unto me! Ye Muses, awaken