The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 5

Tempest and torrent, Thunder and hail, Roar on their path, Seizing the while, As they haste onward, One after another.

Even so, fortune Gropes 'mid the throng-- Innocent boyhood's Curly head seizing,-- Seizing the h.o.a.ry Head of the sinner.

After laws mighty, Brazen, eternal, Must all we mortals Finish the circuit Of our existence.

Man, and man only Can do the impossible He 'tis distinguisheth, Chooseth and judgeth; He to the moment Endurance can lend.

He and he only The good can reward, The bad can he punish, Can heal and can save; All that wanders and strays Can usefully blend.

And we pay homage To the immortals As though they were men, And did in the great, What the best, in the small, Does or might do.

Be the man that is n.o.ble, Both helpful and good, Unweariedly forming The right and the useful, A type of those beings Our mind hath foreshadow'd!

MIGNON[15] (1785)

[This universally known poem is also to be found in _Wilhelm Meister_.]

Know'st thou the land where the fair citron blows, Where the bright orange midst the foliage glows, Where soft winds greet us from the azure skies, Where silent myrtles, stately laurels rise, Know'st thou it well?

'Tis there, 'tis there, That I with thee, beloved one, would repair.

Know'st thou the house? On columns rests its pile, Its halls are gleaming, and its chambers smile, And marble statues stand and gaze on me: "Poor child! what sorrow hath befallen thee?"

Know'st thou it well?

'Tis there, 'tis there, That I with thee, protector, would repair!

Know'st thou the mountain, and its cloudy bridge?

The mule can scarcely find the misty ridge; In caverns dwells the dragon's olden brood, The frowning crag obstructs the raging flood.

Know'st thou it well?

'Tis there, 'tis there, Our path lies--Father--thither, oh repair!

PROXIMITY OF THE BELOVED ONE[16] (1795)

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; At midnight's hour, when on the fragile bridge The wanderer quakes.

I hear thee, when yon billows rise on high, With murmur deep.

To tread the silent grove oft wander I, When all's asleep.

I'm near thee, though thou far away mayst be-- Thou, too, art near!

The sun then sets, the stars soon lighten me, Would thou wert here!

THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT[17] (1802)

Up yonder on the mountain, I dwelt for days together; Looked down into the valley, This pleasant summer weather.

My sheep go feeding onward, My dog sits watching by; I've wandered to the valley, And yet I know not why.

The meadow, it is pretty, With flowers so fair to see; I gather them, but no one Will take the flowers from me.

The good tree gives me shadow, And shelter from the rain; But yonder door is silent, It will not ope again!

I see the rainbow bending, Above her old abode, But she is there no longer; They've taken my love abroad.

They took her o'er the mountains, They took her o'er the sea; Move on, move on, my bonny sheep, There is no rest for me!

NATURE AND ART[18] (1802)

Nature and art asunder seem to fly, Yet sooner than we think find common ground; In place of strife, harmonious songs resound, And both, at one, to my abode draw nigh.

In sooth but one endeavor I descry: Then only, when in ordered moments' round Wisdom and toil our lives to Art have bound, Dare we rejoice in Nature's liberty.

Thus is achievement fashioned everywhere: Not by ungovernable, hasty zeal Shalt thou the height of perfect form attain.

Husband thy strength, if great emprize thou dare; In self-restraint thy masterhood reveal, And under law thy perfect freedom gain.

COMFORT IN TEARS[19] (1803)

How is it that thou art so sad When others are so gay?

Thou hast been weeping--nay, thou hast!

Thine eyes the truth betray.

"And if I may not choose but weep Is not my grief mine own?

No heart was heavier yet for tears-- O leave me, friend, alone!"

Come join this once the merry band, They call aloud for thee, And mourn no more for what is lost, But let the past go free.

"O, little know ye in your mirth, What wrings my heart so deep!

I have not lost the idol yet, For which I sigh and weep."

Then rouse thee and take heart! thy blood Is young and full of fire; Youth should have hope and might to win, And wear its best desire.

"O, never may I hope to gain What dwells from me so far; It stands as high, it looks as bright, As yonder burning star."

Why, who would seek to woo the stars Down from their glorious sphere?

Enough it is to worship them, When nights are calm and clear.

"Oh, I look up and worship too-- My star it shines by day-- Then let me weep the livelong night The while it is away."

EPILOGUE TO SCHILLER'S "SONG OF THE BELL"[20]

[This fine piece, written originally in 1805, on Schiller's death, was altered and recast by Goethe in 1815, on the occasion of the performance on the stage of the _Song of the Bell_. Hence the allusion in the last verse.]

To this city joy reveal it!