The Poems of Goethe | Page 8

smiled, and cured me
with that smile's sweet grace,
To new-born joys my spirit soar'd anon;
With inward confidence I
now could dare
To draw yet closer, and observe her there.
Through the light cloud she then stretch'd forth her hand,
As if to bid the streaky vapour fly:
At once it seemed to yield to her
command,
Contracted, and no mist then met mine eye.
My glance once more
survey'd the smiling land,
Unclouded and serene appear'd the sky.
Nought but a veil of purest
white she held,
And round her in a thousand folds it swell'd.
"I know thee, and I know thy wav'ring will.
I know the good that lives and glows in thee!"--
Thus spake she, and
methinks I hear her still--
"The prize long destined, now receive from me;
That blest one will be
safe from ev'ry ill,
Who takes this gift with soul of purity,--"
The veil of Minstrelsy from
Truth's own hand,
Of sunlight and of morn's sweet fragrance plann'd.
"And when thou and thy friends at fierce noon-day
Are parched with heat, straight cast it in the air!
Then Zephyr's
cooling breath will round you play,
Distilling balm and flowers' sweet incense there;
The tones of earthly
woe will die away,

The grave become a bed of clouds so fair,
To sing to rest life's
billows will be seen,
The day be lovely, and the night serene."--
Come, then, my friends! and whensoe'er ye find
Upon your way increase life's heavy load;
If by fresh-waken'd
blessings flowers are twin'd
Around your path, and golden fruits bestow'd,
We'll seek the coming
day with joyous mind!
Thus blest, we'll live, thus wander on our road
And when our
grandsons sorrow o'er our tomb,
Our love, to glad their bosoms, still
shall bloom.
SONGS.
Late resounds the early strain;
Weal and woe in song 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.*

0. 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.
0.

0. 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