The Poems of Goethe Part 107

Wouldst thou what charms and delights, wouldst thou what

plenteously, feeds, Would thou include both Heaven and earth in one designation,

All that is needed is done, when I Sakontala name.

1792.

----- THE MUSE'S MIRROR.

EARLY one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment, Follow'd a swift-running streamlet, the quietest nook by it seeking.

Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful surface distorted Ever her moving form; the G.o.ddess departed in anger.

Yet the stream call'd mockingly after her, saying: "What, truly!

Wilt thou not view, then, the truth, in my mirror so clearly depicted?"

But she already was far away, on the brink of the ocean, In her figure rejoicing, and duly arranging her garland.

1799.*

----- PHOEBUS AND HERMES.

DELOS' stately ruler, and Maia's son, the adroit one,

Warmly were striving, for both sought the great prize to obtain.

Hermes the lyre demanded, the lyre was claim'd by Apollo,

Yet were the hearts of the foes fruitlessly nourish'd by hope.

For on a sudden Ares burst in, with fury decisive,

Dashing in twain the gold toy, brandishing wildly his sword.

Hermes, malicious one, laughed beyond measure; yet deep-seated sorrow

Seized upon Phoebus's heart, seized on the heart of each Muse.

1799.*

----- THE NEW AMOR.

AMOR, not the child, the youthful lover of Psyche, Look'd round Olympus one day, boldly, to triumph inured; There he espied a G.o.ddess, the fairest amongst the immortals,-- Venus Urania she,--straight was his pa.s.sion inflamed.

Even the holy one powerless proved, alas! 'gainst his wooing,-- Tightly embraced in his arm, held her the daring one fast.

Then from their union arose a new, a more beauteous Amor, Who from his father his wit, grace from his mother derives.

Ever thou'lt find him join'd in the kindly Muses' communion, And his charm-laden bolt foundeth the love of the arts.

1792.

----- THE GARLANDS.

KLOPSTOCK would lead us away from Pindus; no longer for laurel May we be eager--the homely acorn alone must content us; Yet he himself his more-than-epic crusade is conducting High on Golgotha's summit, that foreign G.o.ds he may honour!

Yet, on what hill he prefers, let him gather the angels together, Suffer deserted disciples to weep o'er the grave of the just one: There where a hero and saint hath died, where a bard breath'd his numbers, Both for our life and our death an ensample of courage resplendent And of the loftiest human worth to bequeath,--ev'ry nation There will joyously kneel in devotion ecstatic, revering Thorn and laurel garland, and all its charms and its tortures.

1815.*

----- 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 streaming fast over thy brow.

Youth, alas, throughout life as closely to age is united

As, in some changeable dream, yesterday blends with to-day.

Uri, October 7th, 1797.

----- DISTICHS.

CHORDS are touch'd by Apollo,--the death-laden bow, too, he bendeth;

While he the shepherdess charms, Python he lays in the dust.

----- WHAT is merciful censure? To make thy faults appear smaller?

May be to veil them? No, no! O'er them to raise thee on high!

----- DEMOCRATIC food soon cloys on the mult.i.tude's stomach; But I'll wager, ere long, other thou'lt give them instead.

----- WHAT in France has pa.s.s'd by, the Germans continue to practise,

For the proudest of men flatters the people and fawns.

----- WHO is the happiest of men? He who values the merits of others, And in their pleasure takes joy, even as though 'twere his own.

----- NOT in the morning alone, not only at mid-day he charmeth;

Even at setting, the sun is still the same glorious planet.

VENETIAN EPIGRAMS.

(Written in 1790.) ----- URN and sarcophagus erst were with life adorn'd by the heathen

Fauns are dancing around, while with the Baccha.n.a.l troop Chequerd circles they trace; and the goat-footed, puffy-cheekd player

Wildly produceth hoa.r.s.e tones out of the clamorous horn.

Cymbals and drums resound; we see and we hear, too, the marble.

Fluttering bird! oh how sweet tastes the ripe fruit to thy bill!

Noise there is none to disturb thee, still less to scare away Amor,

Who, in the midst of the throng, learns to delight in his torch.

Thus doth fullness overcome death; and the ashes there cover'd

Seem, in that silent domain, still to be gladdend with life.

Thus may the minstrel's sarcophagus be hereafter surrounded

With such a scroll, which himself richly with life has adorn'd.

----- CLASP'D in my arms for ever eagerly hold I my mistress,

Ever my panting heart throbs wildly against her dear breast, And on her knees forever is leaning my head, while I'm gazing