The Poems of Goethe Part 81

When at length return'd the spring-time, To the nightingales thus spake I: "Darling nightingales, oh, beat ye Early, early at my window,-- Wake me from the heavy slumber That chains down the youth so strongly!"

Yet the love-o'erflowing songsters Their sweet melodies protracted Through the night before my window, Kept awake my loving spirit, Rousing new and tender yearnings In my newly-waken'd bosom.

And the night thus fleeted o'er me, And Aurora found me sleeping,-- Ay, the sun could scarce arouse me.

Now at length is come the Summer, And the early fly so busy Draws me from my pleasing slumbers At the first-born morning-glimmer.

Mercilessly then returns she, Though the half-aroused one often Scares her from him with impatience, And she lures her shameless sisters, So that from my weary eyelids Kindly sleep ere long is driven.

From my couch then boldly spring I, And I seek the darling Muses, in the beechen-grove I find them, Full of pieasure to receive me; And to the tormenting insects Owe I many a golden hour.

Thus be ye, unwelcome beings, Highly valued by the poet, As the flies my numbers tell of.

1798.

----- MORNING LAMENT.

OH thou cruel deadly-lovely maiden, Tell me what great sin have I committed, That thou keep'st me to the rack thus fasten'd, That thou hast thy solemn promise broken?

'Twas but yestere'en that thou with fondness Press'd my hand, and these sweet accents murmured: "Yes, I'll come, I'll come when morn approacheth, Come, my friend, full surely to thy chamber."

On the latch I left my doors, unfasten'd, Having first with care tried all the hinges, And rejoic'd right well to find they creak'd not.

What a night of expectation pa.s.s'd I!

For I watch'd, and ev'ry chime I number'd; If perchance I slept a few short moments, Still my heart remain'd awake forever, And awoke me from my gentle slumbers.

Yes, then bless'd I night's o'erhanging darkness, That so calmly cover'd all things round me; I enjoy'd the universal silence, While I listen'd ever in the silence, If perchance the slightest sounds were stirring.

"Had she only thoughts, my thoughts resembling, Had she only feelings, like my feelings, She would not await the dawn of morning.

But, ere this, would surely have been with me."

Skipp'd a kitten on the floor above me, Scratch'd a mouse a panel in the corner, Was there in the house the slightest motion, Ever hoped I that I heard thy footstep, Ever thought I that I heard thee coming.

And so lay I long, and ever longer, And already was the daylight dawning, And both here and there were signs of movement.

"Is it yon door? Were it my door only!"

In my bed I lean'd upon my elbow, Looking tow'rd the door, now half-apparent, If perchance it might not be in motion.

Both the wings upon the latch continued, On the quiet hinges calmly hanging.

And the day grew bright and brighter ever; And I heard my neighbour's door unbolted, As he went to earn his daily wages, And ere long I heard the waggons rumbling, And the city gates were also open'd, While the market-place, in ev'ry corner, Teem'd with life and bustle and confusion.

In the house was going now and coming Up and down the stairs, and doors were creaking Backwards now, now forwards,--footsteps clatter'd Yet, as though it were a thing all-living, From my cherish'd hope I could not tear me.

When at length the sun, in hated splendour.

Fell upon my walls, upon my windows, Up I sprang, and hasten'd to the garden, There to blend my breath, so hot and yearning, With the cool refreshing morning breezes, And, it might be, even there to meet thee: But I cannot find thee in the arbour, Or the avenue of lofty lindens.

1789.*

----- THE VISIT.

FAIN had I to-day surprised my mistress, But soon found I that her door was fasten'd.

Yet I had the key safe in my pocket, And the darling door I open'd softly!

In the parlour found I not the maiden, Found the maiden not within her closet, Then her chamber-door I gently open'd, When I found her wrapp'd in pleasing slumbers, Fully dress'd, and lying on the sofa.

While at work had slumber stolen o'er her; For her knitting and her needle found I Resting in her folded bands so tender; And I placed myself beside her softly, And held counsel, whether I should wake her.

Then I looked upon the beauteous quiet That on her sweet eyelids was reposing On her lips was silent truth depicted, On her cheeks had loveliness its dwelling, And the pureness of a heart unsullied In her bosom evermore was heaving.

All her limbs were gracefully reclining, Set at rest by sweet and G.o.dlike balsam.

Gladly sat I, and the contemplation Held the strong desire I felt to wake her Firmer and firmer down, with mystic fetters.

"Oh, thou love," methought, "I see that slumber, Slumber that betrayeth each false feature, Cannot injure thee, can nought discover That could serve to harm thy friend's soft feelings.

"Now thy beauteous eyes are firmly closed, That, when open, form mine only rapture.

And thy sweet lips are devoid of motion, Motionless for speaking or for kissing; Loosen'd are the soft and magic fetters Of thine arms, so wont to twine around me, And the hand, the ravishing companion Of thy sweet caresses, lies unmoving.

Were my thoughts of thee but based on error, Were the love I bear thee self-deception, I must now have found it out, since Amor Is, without his bandage, placed beside me."

Long I sat thus, full of heartfelt pleasure At my love, and at her matchless merit; She had so delighted me while slumbering, That I could not venture to awake her.

Then I on the little table near her Softly placed two oranges, two roses; Gently, gently stole I from her chamber.

When her eyes the darling one shall open, She will straightway spy these colourd presents, And the friendly gift will view with wonder, For the door will still remain unopen'd.

If perchance I see to-night the angel, How will she rejoice,--reward me doubly For this sacrifice of fond affection!

1765.

----- THE MAGIC NET.

Do I see a contest yonder?

See I miracles or pastimes?

Beauteous urchins, five in number, 'Gainst five sisters fair contending,-- Measured is the time they're beating-- At a bright enchantress' bidding.

Glitt'ring spears by some are wielded, Threads are others nimbly twining,

So that in their snares, the weapons One would think, must needs be captured, Soon, in truth, the spears are prison'd; Yet they, in the gentle war-dance, One by one escape their fetters In the row of loops so tender, That make haste to seize a free one Soon as they release a captive.

So with contests, strivings, triumphs, Flying now, and now returning, Is an artful net soon woven, In its whiteness like the snow-flakes, That, from light amid the darkness, Draw their streaky lines so varied, As e'en colours scarce can draw them.

Who shall now receive that garment Far beyond all others wish'd-for?

Whom our much-loved mistress favour As her own acknowledged servant?

I am blest by kindly Fortune's Tokens true, in silence pray'd for!

And I feel myself held captive, To her service now devoted.

Yet, e'en while I, thus enraptured, Thus adorn'd, am proudly wand'ring, See! yon wantons are entwining, Void of strife, with secret ardour, Other nets, each fine and finer, Threads of twilight interweaving, Moonbeams sweet, night-violets' balsam.

Ere the net is noticed by us, Is a happier one imprison'd, Whom we, one and all, together Greet with envy and with blessings.

1803.

----- THE GOBLET.

ONCE I held a well-carved br.i.m.m.i.n.g goblet,-- In my two hands tightly clasp'd I held it, Eagerly the sweet wine sipp'd I from it, Seeking there to drown all care and sorrow.

Amor enter'd in, and found me sitting, And he gently smiled in modest fashion, Smiled as though the foolish one he pitied.

"Friend, I know a far more beauteous vessel, One wherein to sink thy spirit wholly; Say, what wilt thou give me, if I grant it, And with other nectar fill it for thee?"

Oh, how kindly hath he kept his promise!

For to me, who long had yearn'd, he granted Thee, my Lida, fill'd with soft affection.