The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 4

But from out the damp gray distance rising, Softly now the storm proclaims its advent, Presseth down each bird upon the waters, Presseth down the throbbing hearts of mortals.

And it cometh. At its stubborn fury, Wisely ev'ry sail the seaman striketh; With the anguish-laden ball are sporting Wind and water.

And on yonder sh.o.r.e are gather'd standing, Friends and lovers, trembling for the bold one: "Why, alas, remain'd he here not with us!

Ah, the tempest I Cast away by fortune!

Must the good one perish in this fashion?

Might not he perchance * * *. Ye great immortals!"

Yet he, like a man, stands by his rudder; With the bark are sporting wind and water, Wind and water sport not with his bosom: On the fierce deep looks he, as a master,-- In his G.o.ds, or shipwreck'd, or safe landed, Trusting ever.

TO THE MOON[10] (1778)

Bush and vale thou fill'st again With thy misty ray, And my spirit's heavy chain Casteth far away.

Thou dost o'er my fields extend Thy sweet soothing eye, Watching like a gentle friend, O'er my destiny.

Vanish'd days of bliss and woe Haunt me with their tone, Joy and grief in turns I know, As I stray alone.

Stream beloved, flow on! Flow on!

Ne'er can I be gay!

Thus have sport and kisses gone, Truth thus pa.s.s'd away.

Once I seem'd the lord to be Of that prize so fair!

Now, to our deep sorrow, we Can forget it ne'er.

Murmur, stream, the vale along, Never cease thy sighs; Murmur, whisper to my song Answering melodies!

When thou in the winter's night Overflow'st in wrath, Or in spring-time sparklest bright, As the buds shoot forth.

He who from the world retires, Void of hate, is blest; Who a friend's true love inspires, Leaning on his breast!

That which heedless man ne'er knew, Or ne'er thought aright, Roams the bosom's labyrinth through, Boldly into night.

THE FISHERMAN[11] (1778)

The waters rush'd, the waters rose, A fisherman sat by, While on his line in calm repose He cast his patient eye.

And as he sat, and hearken'd there, The flood was cleft in twain, And, lo! a dripping mermaid fair Sprang from the troubled main.

She sang to him, and spake the while "Why lurest thou my brood, With human wit and human guile From out their native flood?

Oh, couldst thou know how gladly dart The fish across the sea, Thou wouldst descend, e'en as thou art, And truly happy be!

Do not the sun and moon with grace Their forms in ocean lave?

Shines not with twofold charms their face, When rising from the wave?

The deep, deep heavens, then lure thee not,-- The moist yet radiant blue,-- Not thine own form,--to tempt thy lot 'Midst this eternal dew?"

The waters rush'd, the waters rose, Wetting his naked feet; As if his true love's words were those, His heart with longing beat.

She sang to him, to him spake she, His doom was fix'd, I ween; Half drew she him, and half sank he, And ne'er again was seen.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE FISHERMAN AND THE MERMAID Georg Papperitz]

THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG[12] (1780)

[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of Ilmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed the last act of his _Iphigenie_.]

Hush'd on the hill Is the breeze; Scarce by the zephyr The trees Softly are press'd; The woodbird's asleep on the bough.

Wait, then, and thou Soon wilt find rest.

THE ERL-KING[13] (1782)

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 keepeth him warm.

"My son, wherefore seek's thou thy face thus to hide?"

"Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!

Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"

"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."

"Oh come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!

Full many a game I will play there with thee; On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold, My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"

"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives; 'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."

"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?

My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care; My daughters by night their glad festival keep, They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not see, How the Erl-King his daughters has brought here for me?"

"My darling, my darling, I see it aright, 'Tis the aged gray willows deceiving thy sight."

"I love thee, I'm charm'd by thy beauty, dear boy!

And if thou'rt unwilling, then force I'll employ."

"My father, my father, he seizes me fast, Full sorely the Erl-King has hurt me at last."

The father now gallops, with terror half wild, He grasps in his arms the poor shuddering child; He reaches his court-yard with toil and with dread,-- The child in his arms finds he motionless, dead.

THE G.o.dLIKE[14] (1783)

n.o.ble 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 know them!

For unfeeling Nature is ever On bad and on good The sun alike shineth; And on the wicked, As on the best, The moon and stars gleam.