PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION
I have taken advantage of the publication of a Second Edition Of my translation of the Poems of Goethe (originally published in 1853), to add to the Collection a version of the much admired
MORNING LAMENT
OH thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden, Tell me what great sin have I committed, That thou keep’st me to the rack thus fasten’d, That thou hast thy solemn promise broken? ‘Twas but yestere’en that thou
TO THE COUNTESS GRANVILLE
MY DEAR LADY GRANVILLE, THE reluctance which must naturally be felt by any one in Venturing to give to the world a book such as the present, where The beauties of the great original
GANYMEDE
How, in the light of morning, Round me thou glowest, Spring, thou beloved one! With thousand-varying loving bliss The sacred emotions Born of thy warmth eternal Press ‘gainst my bosom, Thou endlessly fair one!
THE METAMORPHOSIS OF PLANTS
THOU art confused, my beloved, at, seeing the thousandfold Union Shown in this flowery troop, over the garden dispers’d; Any a name dost thou hear assign’d; one after another Falls on thy list’ning ear,
FROM THE MOUNTAIN
[Written just after the preceding one, on a Mountain overlooking the Lake of Zurich.] IF I, dearest Lily, did not love thee, How this prospect would enchant my sight! And yet if I, Lily,
ANACREON'S GRAVE
HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are Twining, Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard, Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals
FAREWELL
To break one’s word is pleasure-fraught, To do one’s duty gives a smart; While man, alas! will promise nought, That is repugnant to his heart. Using some magic strains of yore, Thou lurest him,
THE ERL-KING
WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear? The father it is, with his infant so dear; He holdeth the boy tightly clasp’d in his arm, He holdeth him safely, he
WONT AND DONE
I HAVE loved; for the first time with passion I rave! I then was the servant, but now am the slave; I then was the servant of All: By this creature so charming I
OLD AGE
OLD age is courteous no one more: For time after time he knocks at the door, But nobody says, “Walk in, sir, pray!” Yet turns he not from the door away, But lifts the
THE EPOCHS
ON Petrarch’s heart, all other days before, In flaming letters written, was impress d GOOD FRIDAY. And on mine, be it confess’d, Is this year’s ADVENT, as it passeth o’er. I do not now
AT MIDNIGHT HOUR
[Goethe relates that a remarkable situation He was in one bright moonlight night led to the composition of this Sweet song, which was “the dearer to him because he could not say Whence it
THE BEAUTEOUS FLOWER
SONG OF THE IMPRISONED COUNT. COUNT. I KNOW a flower of beauty rare, Ah, how I hold it dear! To seek it I would fain repair, Were I not prison’d here. My sorrow sore
MAY SONG
BETWEEN wheatfield and corn, Between hedgerow and thorn, Between pasture and tree, Where’s my sweetheart Tell it me! Sweetheart caught I Not at home; She’s then, thought I. Gone to roam. Fair and loving
THE KING OF THULE.*
(* This ballad is also introduced in Faust, Where it is sung by Margaret.) IN Thule lived a monarch, Still faithful to the grave, To whom his dying mistress A golden goblet gave. Beyond
TO THE HUSBANDMAN
SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover’d; Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last. Joyously plough’d and sow’d! Here food all living is budding, E’en
THE INSTRUCTORS
WHEN Diogenes quietly sunn’d himself in his barrel, When Calanus with joy leapt in the flame-breathing grave, Oh, what noble lessons were those for the rash son of Philip, Were not the lord of
MEASURE OF TIME
EROS, what mean’st thou by this? In each of thine hands is an Hourglass! What, oh thou frivolous god! twofold thy measure of time? “Slowly run from the one, the hours of lovers when
THE BEAUTIFUL NIGHT
Now I leave this cottage lowly, Where my love hath made her home, And with silent footstep slowly Through the darksome forest roam, Luna breaks through oaks and bushes, Zephyr hastes her steps to
THE SWISS ALPS
YESTERDAY brown was still thy head, as the locks Of my loved one, Whose sweet image so dear silently beckons afar. Silver-grey is the early snow to-day on thy summit, Through the tempestuous night
EXPLANATION OF AN ANTIQUE GEM
A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts high Within a beauteous garden; And see, a goat is sitting by. As if he were its warden. But oh, Quirites, how one errs! The tree is guarded
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
JOY
Joy from that in type we borrow, Which in life gives only sorrow. JOY. A DRAGON-FLY with beauteous wing Is hov’ring o’er a silv’ry spring; I watch its motions with delight, Now dark its
SONG OF FELLOWSHIP
[Written and sung in honour of the birthday Of the Pastor Ewald at the time of Goethe’s happy connection with Lily.] IN ev’ry hour of joy That love and wine prolong, The moments we’ll
THE HUNTER'S EVEN-SONG
THE plain with still and wand’ring feet, And gun full-charged, I tread, And hov’ring see thine image sweet, Thine image dear, o’er head. In gentle silence thou dost fare Through field and valley dear;
APPARENT DEATH
WEEP, maiden, weep here o’er the tomb of Love; He died of nothing by mere chance was slain. But is he really dead? oh, that I cannot prove: A nothing, a mere chance, oft
THE GODLIKE
NOBLE be man, Helpful and good! For that alone Distinguisheth him From all the beings Unto us known. Hail to the beings, Unknown and glorious, Whom we forebode! From his example Learn we to
MISCHIEVOUS JOY
AS a butterfly renew’d, When in life I breath’d my last, To the spots my flight I wing, Scenes of heav’nly rapture past, Over meadows, to the spring, Round the hill, and through the
Trilogy of Passion: I. TO WERTHER
[This poem, written at the age of seventy-five, was appended to An edition of ‘Werther,’ published at that time.] ONCE more, then, much-wept shadow, thou dost dare Boldly to face the day’s clear light,
POETRY
GOD to his untaught children sent Law, order, knowledge, art, from high, And ev’ry heav’nly favour lent, The world’s hard lot to qualify. They knew not how they should behave, For all from Heav’n
PROVERBS
‘TIS easier far a wreath to bind, Than a good owner fort to find. I KILL’D a thousand flies overnight, Yet was waken’d by one, as soon as twas light. To the mother I
THE DOUBTERS AND THE LOVERS
THE DOUBTERS. YE love, and sonnets write! Fate’s strange behest! The heart, its hidden meaning to declare, Must seek for rhymes, uniting pair with pair: Learn, children, that the will is weak, at best.
FIRST LOSS
AH! who’ll e’er those days restore, Those bright days of early love Who’ll one hour again concede, Of that time so fondly cherish’d! Silently my wounds I feed, And with wailing evermore Sorrow o’er
TO A GOLDEN HEART THAT HE WORE ROUND HIS NECK
[Addressed, during the Swiss tour already mentioned, To a present Lily had given him, during the time of their happy Connection, which was then about to be terminated for ever.] OH thou token loved
COURAGE
CARELESSLY over the plain away, Where by the boldest man no path Cut before thee thou canst discern, Make for thyself a path! Silence, loved one, my heart! Cracking, let it not break! Breaking,
THE RULE OF LIFE
IF thou wouldst live unruffled by care, Let not the past torment thee e’er; As little as possible be thou annoy’d, And let the present be ever enjoy’d; Ne’er let thy breast with hate
THE WAY TO BEHAVE
THOUGH tempers are bad and peevish folks swear, Remember to ruffle thy brows, friend, ne’er; And let not the fancies of women so fair E’er serve thy pleasure in life to impair. 1815.*
THE EAGLE AND DOVE
IN search of prey once raised his pinions An eaglet; A huntsman’s arrow came, and reft His right wing of all motive power. Headlong he fell into a myrtle grove, For three long days
LOVE'S DISTRESSES
WHO will hear me? Whom shall I lament to? Who would pity me that heard my sorrows? Ah, the lip that erst so many raptures Used to taste, and used to give responsive, Now
DIFFERENT EMOTIONS ON THE SAME SPOT
THE MAIDEN. I’VE seen him before me! What rapture steals o’er me! Oh heavenly sight! He’s coming to meet me; Perplex’d, I retreat me, With shame take to flight. My mind seems to wander!
SHOULD E'ER THE LOVELESS DAY
SHOULD e’er the loveless day remain Obscured by storms of hail and rain, Thy charms thou showest never; I tap at window, tap at door: Come, lov’d one, come! appear once more! Thou art
PAULO POST FUTURI
WEEP ye not, ye children dear, That as yet ye are unborn: For each sorrow and each tear Makes the father’s heart to mourn. Patient be a short time to it, Unproduced, and known
TO HIS COY ONE
SEEST thou yon smiling Orange? Upon the tree still hangs it; Already March bath vanish’d, And new-born flow’rs are shooting. I draw nigh to the tree then, And there I say: Oh Orange, Thou
THE LOVING ONE ONCE MORE
WHY do I o’er my paper once more bend? Ask not too closely, dearest one, I pray For, to speak truth, I’ve nothing now to say; Yet to thy hands at length ’twill come,
A SYMBOL
(This fine poem is given by Goethe amongst a Small collection of what he calls Loge (Lodge), meaning thereby Masonic pieces.) THE mason’s trade Observe them well, Resembles life, And Watch them revealing With
LINES ON SEEING SCHILLER'S SKULL
[This curious imitation of the ternary metre Of Dante was written at the age of 77.] WITHIN a gloomy charnel-house one day I view’d the countless skulls, so strangely mated, And of old times
ON THE NEW YEAR
What we sing in company Soon from heart to heart will fly. – THE Gesellige Lieder, which I have angicisled As above, as several of them cannot be called convivial songs, are Separated by
DIFFERENT THREATS
I ONCE into a forest far My maiden went to seek, And fell upon her neck, when: “Ah!” She threaten’d, “I will shriek!” Then cried I haughtily: “I’ll crush The man that dares come
NEITHER THIS NOR THAT
IF thou to be a slave shouldst will, Thou’lt get no pity, but fare ill; And if a master thou wouldst be, The world will view it angrily; And if in statu quo thou
THE VIOLET
UPON the mead a violet stood, Retiring, and of modest mood, In truth, a violet fair. Then came a youthful shepherdess, And roam’d with sprightly joyousness, And blithely woo’d With carols sweet the air
THE BLISS OF SORROW
NEVER dry, never dry, Tears that eternal love sheddeth! How dreary, how dead doth the world still appear, When only half-dried on the eye is the tear! Never dry, never dry, Tears that unhappy
PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE
I THINK of thee, whene’er the sun his beams O’er ocean flings; I think of thee, whene’er the moonlight gleams In silv’ry springs. I see thee, when upon the distant ridge The dust awakes;
LEGEND
THERE lived in the desert a holy man To whom a goat-footed Faun one day Paid a visit, and thus began To his surprise: “I entreat thee to pray That grace to me and
ON THE DIVAN
HE who knows himself and others Here will also see, That the East and West, like brothers, Parted ne’er shall be. Thoughtfully to float for ever ‘Tween two worlds, be man’s endeavour! So between
TO CHARLOTTE
‘MIDST the noise of merriment and glee, ‘Midst full many a sorrow, many a care, Charlotte, I remember, we remember thee, How, at evening’s hour so fair, Thou a kindly hand didst reach us,
JUNE
SHE behind yon mountain lives, Who my love’s sweet guerdon gives. Tell me, mount, how this can be! Very glass thou seem’st to me, And I seem to be close by, For I see
DEATH-LAMENT OF THE NOBLE WIFE OF ASAN AGA
[From the Morlack.) WHAT is yonder white thing in the forest? Is it snow, or can it swans perchance be? Were it snow, ere this it had been melted, Were it swans, they all
THOUGHTS ON JESUS CHRIST'S DESCENT INTO HELL
THOUGHTS ON JESUS CHRIST’S DESCENT INTO HELL. [THE remarkable Poem of which this is a literal But faint representation, was written when Goethe was only sixteen Years old. It derives additional interest from the
SIR CURT'S WEDDING-JOURNEY
WITH a bridegroom’s joyous bearing, Mounts Sir Curt his noble beast, To his mistress’ home repairing, There to hold his wedding feast; When a threatening foe advances From a desert, rocky spot; For the
TO ORIGINALS
In these numbers be express’d Meaning deep, ‘neath merry jest. – TO ORIGINALS. A FELLOW says: “I own no school or college; No master lives whom I acknowledge; And pray don’t entertain the thought
FROM 'THE SORROWS OF YOUNG WERTHER.'
[Prefixed to the second edition.] EV’RY youth for love’s sweet portion sighs, Ev’ry maiden sighs to win man’s love; Why, alas! should bitter pain arise From the noblest passion that we prove? Thou, kind
TO LINA
SHOULD these songs, love, as they fleet, Chance again to reach thy hand, At the piano take thy seat, Where thy friend was wont to stand! Sweep with finger bold the string, Then the
THE LEGEND OF THE HORSESHOE
WHAT time our Lord still walk’d the earth, Unknown, despised, of humble birth, And on Him many a youth attended (His words they seldom comprehended), It ever seem’d to Him most meet To hold
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
THE BRETHREN
SLUMBER and Sleep, two brethren ordain’d by the gods to their Service, Were by Prometheus implored, comfort to give to his race; But though so light to the gods, too heavy for man was
ROYAL PRAYER
HA, I am the lord of earth! The noble, Who’re in my service, love me. Ha, I am the lord of earth! The noble, O’er whom my sway extendeth, love I. Oh, grant me,
DECLARATION OF WAR
OH, would I resembled 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 believed it When by the youth
EPIPHANIAS
THE three holy kings with their star’s bright ray, They eat and they drink, but had rather not pay; They like to eat and drink away, They eat and drink, but had rather not
TO LIDA
THE only one whom, Lida, thou canst love, Thou claim’st, and rightly claim’st, for only thee; He too is wholly thine; since doomed to rove Far from thee, in life’s turmoils nought I see
SELF-DECEIT
My neighbour’s curtain, well I see, Is moving to and fin. 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
CALM AT SEA
SILENCE deep rules o’er the waters, Calmly slumb’ring lies the main, While the sailor views with trouble Nought but one vast level plain. Not a zephyr is in motion! Silence fearful as the grave!