The Poems of Goethe Part 50

In the place my art foretold

Black and stormy was the night.

Coming o'er the distant plain,

With the glimmer of a star,

Soon I saw a light afar,

As the hour of midnight knell'd.

Preparation was in vain.

Sudden all was lighted up

With the l.u.s.tre of a cup

That a beauteous boy upheld.

Sweetly seem'd his eves to laugh

Neath his flow'ry chaplet's load;

With the drink that brightly glow'd,

He the circle enter'd in.

And he kindly bade me quaff:

Then methought "This child can ne'er,

With his gift so bright and fair,

To the arch-fiend be akin."

"Pure life's courage drink!" cried he: "This advice to prize then learn,--

Never to this place return

Trusting in thy spells absurd; Dig no longer fruitlessly.

Guests by night, and toil by day!

Weeks laborious, feast-days gay!

Be thy future magic-word!

1797.

----- THE RAT-CATCHER.

I AM the bard known far and wide, The travell'd rat-catcher beside; A man most needful to this town, So glorious through its old renown.

However many rats I see, How many weasels there may be, I cleanse the place from ev'ry one, All needs must helter-skelter run.

Sometimes the bard so full of cheer As a child-catcher will appear, Who e'en the wildest captive brings, Whene'er his golden tales he sings.

However proud each boy in heart, However much the maidens start, I bid the chords sweet music make, And all must follow in my wake.

Sometimes the skilful bard ye view In the form of maiden-catcher too; For he no city enters e'er, Without effecting wonders there.

However coy may be each maid, However the women seem afraid, Yet all will love-sick be ere long To sound of magic lute and song.

[Da Capo.] 1803.*

THE SPINNER.

As I calmly sat and span,

Toiling with all zeal, Lo! a young and handsome man

Pa.s.s'd my spinning-wheel.

And he praised,--what harm was there?--

Sweet the things he said-- Praised my flax-resembling hair,

And the even thread.

He with this was not content,

But must needs do more; And in twain the thread was rent,

Though 'twas safe before.

And the flax's stonelike weight

Needed to be told; But no longer was its state

Valued as of old.

When I took it to the weaver,

Something felt I start, And more quickly, as with fever,

Throbb'd my trembling heart.

Then I bear the thread at length

Through the heat, to bleach; But, alas, I scarce have strength

To the pool to reach.