The Poems of Goethe Part 117

And as she walks envelopes her well-turn'd ankles completely.

But I have one thing to say, and this must expressly entreat you: Do not speak to the maiden, and let not your scheme be discover'd.

But inquire of others, and hearken to all that they tell you, When you have learnt enough to satisfy father and mother, Then return to me straight, and we'll settle future proceedings.

This is the plan which I have matured, while driving you hither."

Thus he spoke, and the friends forthwith went on to the village, Where, in gardens and barns and houses, the mult.i.tude crowded; All along the broad road the numberless carts were collected, Men were feeding the lowing cattle and feeding the horses.

Women on every hedge the linen were carefully drying, Whilst the children in glee were splashing about in the streamlet.

Forcing their way through the waggons, and past the men and the cattle, Walk'd the amba.s.sador spies, looking well to the righthand and lefthand, Hoping somewhere to see the form of the well-described maiden; But wherever they look'd, no trace of the girl they discover'd.

Presently denser became the crowd. Round some of the waggons.

Men in a pa.s.sion were quarrelling, women also were screaming.

Then of a sudden approach'd an aged man with firm footstep Marching straight up to the fighters; and forthwith was hush'd the contention, When he bade them be still, and with fatherly earnestness threaten'd.

"Are we not yet," he exclaim'd, "by misfortune so knitted together, As to have learnt at length the art of reciprocal patience And toleration, though each cannot measure the actions of others?

Prosperous men indeed may quarrel! Will sorrow not teach you How no longer as formerly you should quarrel with brethren?

Each should give way to each other, when treading the soil of the stranger, And, as you hope for mercy yourselves, you should share your possessions."

Thus the man address'd them, and all were silent. In peaceful Humour the reconciled men look'd after their cattle and waggons.

When the pastor heard the man discourse in this fashion, And the foreign magistrate's peaceful nature discovered, He approach'd him in turn, and used this significant language "Truly, Father, when nations are living in days of good fortune, Drawing their food from the earth, which gladly opens its treasures, And its wish'd-for gifts each year and each month is renewing, Then all matters go smoothly; each thinks himself far the wisest, And the best, and so they exist by the side of each other, And the most sensible man no better than others is reckon'd For the world moves on, as if by itself and in silence.

But when distress unsettles our usual manner of living, Pulls down each time-honour'd fabric, and roots up the seed in our gardens, Drives the man and his wife far away from the home they delight in, Hurries them off in confusion through days and nights full of anguish, Ah! then look we around in search of the man who is wisest, And no longer in vain he utters his words full of wisdom.

Tell me whether you be these fugitives' magistrate, Father, Over whose minds you appear to possess such an influence soothing?

Aye, to-day I could deem you one of the leaders of old time, Who through wastes and through deserts conducted the wandering people; I could imagine 'twas Joshua I am addressing, or Moses."

Then with solemn looks the magistrate answer'd as follows "Truly the present times resemble the strangest of old times, Which are preserved in the pages of history, sacred or common.

He in these days who has lived to-day and yesterday only, Many a year has lived, events so crowd on each other.

When I reflect back a little, a grey old age I could fancy On my head to be lying, and yet my strength is still active.

Yes, we people in truth may liken ourselves to those others Unto whom in a fiery bush appear'd, in a solemn Moment, the Lord our G.o.d; in fire and clouds we behold him."

When the pastor would fain continue to speak on this subject, And was anxious to learn the fate of the man and his party, Quickly into his ear his companion secretly whisper'd "Speak for a time with the magistrate, turning your talk on the maiden, Whilst I wander about, endeav'ring to find her. Directly I am successful, I'll join you again." Then nodded the pastor, And the spy went to seek her, in barns and through hedges and gardens.

----- VI. KLIO.

THE AGE.

WHEN the pastor ask'd the foreign magistrate questions, What the people had suffer'd, how long from their homes they had wander'd, Then the man replied:--"By no means short are our sorrows, For we have drunk the bitters of many a long year together, All the more dreadful, because our fairest hopes have been blighted.

Who can deny that his heart beat wildly and high in his bosom And that with purer pulses his breast more freely was throbbing, When the newborn sun first rose in the whole of its glory, When we heard of the right of man, to have all things in common, Heard of n.o.ble Equality, and of inspiriting Freedom!

Each man then hoped to attain new life for himself, and the fetters Which had encircled many a land appear'd to be broken, Fetters held by the hands of sloth and selfish indulgence.

Did not all nations turn their gaze, in those days of emotion, Tow'rds the world's capital, which so many a long year had been so, And then more than ever deserved a name so distinguish'd?

Were not the men, who first proclaim'd so n.o.ble a message, Names that are worthy to rank with the highest the sun ever shone on, Did not each give to mankind his courage and genius and language?

"And we also, as neighbours, at first were warmly excited.

Presently after began the war, and the train of arm'd Frenchmen Nearer approach'd; at first they appear'd to bring with them friendship, And they brought it in fact; for all their souls were exalted.

And the gay trees of liberty ev'rywhere gladly they planted, Promising unto each his own, and the government long'd for.

Greatly at this was youth, and greatly old age was delighted, And the joyous dance began round the newly-raised standards.

In this manner the overpowering Frenchmen soon conquer'd First the minds of the men, with their fiery lively proceedings, Then the hearts of the women, with irresistible graces.

Even the strain of the war, with its many demands, seem'd but trifling, For before our eyes the distance by hope was illumined, Luring our gaze far ahead into paths now first open'd before us.

"O how joyful the time, when with his bride the glad bridegroom Whirls in the dance, awaiting the day that will join them for ever But more glorious far was the time when the Highest of all things Which man's mind can conceive, close by and attainable seemed.

Then were the tongues of all loosen'd, and words of wisdom and feeling Not by greybeards alone, but by men and by striplings were utter'd.

"But the heavens soon clouded became. For the sake of the mast'ry Strove a contemptible crew, unfit to accomplish good actions.

Then they murder'd each other, and took to oppressing their new-found Neighbours and brothers, and sent on missions whole herds of self-seekers And the superiors took to carousing and robbing by wholesale, And the inferiors down to the lowest caroused and robb'd also.

n.o.body thought of aught else than having enough for tomorrow.

Terrible was the distress, and daily increased the oppression.

None the cry understood, that they of the day were the masters.

Then even temperate minds were attack'd by sorrow and fury; Each one reflected, and swore to avenge all the injuries suffer'd, And to atone for the hitter loss of hopes twice defrauded.

Presently Fortune declared herself on the side of the Germans, And the French were compell'd to retreat by forced marches before them.

Ah! the sad fate of the war we then for the first time experienced.

For the victor is kind and humane, at least he appears so, And he spares the man he has vanquish'd, as if he his own were, When he employs him daily, and with his property helps him.

But the fugitive knows no law; he wards off death only, And both quickly and recklessly all that he meets with, consumes he.

Then his mind becomes heated apace; and soon desperation Fills his heart, and impels him to all kinds of criminal actions.

Nothing then holds he respected, he steals It. With furious longing On the woman he rushes; his l.u.s.t becomes awful to think of.

Death all around him he sees, his last minutes in cruelty spends he, Wildly exulting in blood, and exulting in howls and in anguish.

"Then in the minds of our men arose a terrible yearning That which was lost to avenge, and that which remain'd to defend still.

All of them seized upon arms, lured on by the fugitives' hurry, By their pale faces, and by their shy, uncertain demeanour.

There was heard the sound of alarm-bells unceasingly ringing, And the approach of danger restrain'd not their violent fury.

Soon into weapons were turn'd the implements peaceful of tillage, And with dripping blood the scythe and the pitchfork were cover'd.

Every foeman without distinction was ruthlessly slaughter'd, Fury was ev'rywhere raging, and artful, cowardly weakness.

May I never again see men in such wretched confusion!

Even the raging wild beast is a better object to gaze on.

Ne'er let them speak of freedom, as if themselves they could govern!

All the evil which Law has driven farback in the corner Seems to escape, as soon as the fetters which bound it are loosen'd."

"Excellent man," replied the pastor, with emphasis speaking "If you're mistaken in man, 'tis not for me to reprove you.

Evil enough have you suffer'd indeed from his cruel proceedings!

Would you but look back, however, on days so laden with sorrow, You would yourself confess how much that is good you have witness'd, Much that is excellent, which remains conceald in the bossom Till by danger 'tis stirr'd, and till necessity makes man Show himself as an angel, a tutelar G.o.d unto others."

Then with a smile replied the worthy old magistrate, saying "Your reminder is wise, like that which they give to the suff'rer Who has had his dwelling burnt down, that under the ruins, Gold and silver are lying, though melted and cover'd with ashes.

Little, indeed, it may be, and yet that little is precious, And the poor man digs it up, and rejoices at finding the treasure.

Gladly, therefore, I turn my thoughts to those few worthy actions Which my memory still is able to dwell on with pleasure.

Yes, I will not deny it, I saw late foemen uniting So as to save the town from harm; I saw with devotion Parents, children and friends impossible actions attempting, Saw how the youth of a sudden became a man, how the greybeard Once more was young, how the child as a stripling appear'd in a moment.

Aye, and the weaker s.e.x, as people commonly call it, Show'd itself brave and daring, with presence of mind all-unwonted.

Let me now, in the first place, describe a deed of rare merit By a high-spirited girl accomplish'd, an excellent maiden, Who in the great farmhouse remain'd behind with the servants, When the whole of the men had departed, to fight with the strangers.

Well, there fell on the court a troop of vagabond scoundrels, Plund'ring and forcing their way inside the rooms of the women.

Soon they cast their eyes on the forms of the grown-up fair maiden And of the other dear girls, in age little more than mere children.

Hurried away by raging desire, unfeelingly rush'd they On the trembling band, and on the high-spirited maiden.

But she instantly seized the sword from the side of a ruffian, Hew'd him down to the ground; at her feet straight fell he, all bleeding, Then with doughty strokes the maidens she bravely deliver'd.

Wounded four more of the robbers; with life, however, escaped they.

Then she lock'd up the court, and, arm'd still, waited for succour.

When the pastor heard the praise of the maiden thus utter'd Feelings of hope for his friend forthwith arose in his bosom, And he prepared to ask what had been the fate of the damsel, Whether she, in the sorrowful flight, form'd one of the people?

At this moment, however, the druggist nimbly approach'd them, Pull'd the sleeve of the pastor, and whisper'd to him as follows "I have at last pick'd out the maiden from many a hundred By her description! Pray come and judge for yourself with your own eyes; Bring the magistrate with you, that we may learn the whole story."

So they turn'd themselves round; but the magistrate found himself summon'd By his own followers, who had need of his presence and counsel.

But the pastor forthwith the druggist accompanied, till they Came to a gap in the hedge, when the latter pointed with slyness, "See you," exclaim'd he, "the maiden? The child's clothes she has been changing.

And I recognise well the old calico--also the cushion-- Cover of blue, which Hermann took in the bundle and gave her.

Quickly and well, of a truth, she has used the presents left with her.

These are evident proofs; and all the rest coincide too; For a bodice red her well-arch'd bosom upraises, Prettily tied, while black are the stays fitting close around her.

Then the seams of the ruff she has carefully plaited and folded, Which, with modest grace, her chin so round is encircling; Free and joyously rises her head, with its elegant oval, Strongly round bodkins of silver her back-hair is many times twisted.

When she is sitting, we plainly see her n.o.ble proportions, And the blue well-plaited gown which begins from close to her bosom, And in rich folds descending, her well-turn'd ankles envelops.

'Tis she, beyond all doubt. So come, that we may examine Whether she be both a good and a frugal and virtuous maiden."

Then the pastor rejoin'd, the sitting damsel inspecting "That she enchanted the youth, I confess is no matter of wonder, For she stands the test of the gaze of a man of experience.