The Poems of Goethe | Page 8

remain.

SOUND, SWEET SONG.
SOUND, sweet song, from some far land,?Sighing softly close at hand,
Now of joy, and now of woe!
Stars are wont to glimmer so.
Sooner thus will good unfold;?Children young and children old?Gladly hear thy numbers flow.
1820.*

? In the cases in which the date is marked thus (*), it signifies the original date of publication--the year of composition not being known. In other cases, the date given is that of the actual composition. All the poems are arranged in the order of the recognised German editions.
?
? TO THE KIND READER.
No one talks more than a Poet;?Fain he'd have the people know it.
Praise or blame he ever loves;?None in prose confess an error,?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 aged, and the youthful,?And the vicious, and the truthful,
All are fair when viewed in song.
1800.*

THE NEW AMADIS.
IN my boyhood's days so drear
I was kept confined;?There I sat for many a year,
All alone I pined,?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 formed the knightly plan
Princess Fish to free;?She was much too complaisant,
Kindly welcomed me,--?And I was gallant.
Heav'nly bread her kisses proved,
Glowing as the wine;?Almost unto death I loved.
Sun-s appeared 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?
1775.*

WHEN THE FOX DIES, HIS SKIN COUNTS.*
(* The name of a game, known in English as "Jack's alight.")
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
ln his neighbour's hand.
Dorilis then gave it me,
With a scoffing jest;?Sudden into flame it broke,
By my fingers press'd.
And it singed 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 burned the flame;?Stead of dying, soon the Fox
Livelier still became.
1770.

THE HEATHROSE.
ONCE a boy a Rosebud spied,
Heathrose fair and tender,?All array'd in youthful pride,--?Quickly to the spot he hied,
Ravished by her splendour.?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!
1779.*

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 shouldst 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 groped 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.
1770.

CHRISTEL.
My senses ofttimes are oppress'd,
Oft stagnant is my blood;?But when by Christel's sight I'm blest,
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.
1776.*

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, Ia, Ia! le ralla, &c.
Of his lambs some two or three
Thyrsis offer'd for a kiss;?First she eyed him roguishly,
Then for answer sang but this:?So, Ia, Ia! le ralla, &c.
Ribbons did the next one offer,
And the third, his heart so true?But, as with the