The Poems of Goethe Part 85

If it with anger overcasts the eye, And heaven's bright purity perversely blackens, Then zephyr-sighs straight scare the clouds away, And, changed to tears, dissolve them into rain.

Thought, hope, and love remain there as before, Till Cynthia gleams upon me as of old.

1820.*

----- LINES ON SEEING SCHILLER'S SKULL.

[This curious imitation of the ternary metre of Dante was written at the age of 77.]

WITHIN a gloomy charnel-house one day

I view'd the countless skulls, so strangely mated, And of old times I thought, that now were grey.

Close pack'd they stand, that once so fiercely hated, And hardy bones, that to the death contended,

Are lying cross'd,--to lie for ever, fated.

What held those crooked shoulder-blades suspended?

No one now asks; and limbs with vigour fired, The hand, the foot--their use in life is ended.

Vainly ye sought the tomb for rest when tired; Peace in the grave may not be yours; ye're driven

Back into daylight by a force inspired; But none can love the wither'd husk, though even

A glorious n.o.ble kernel it contained.

To me, an adept, was the writing given

Which not to all its holy sense explained, When 'mid the crowd, their icy shadows flinging,

I saw a form, that glorious still remained.

And even there, where mould and damp were clinging,

Gave me a blest, a rapture-fraught emotion, As though from death a living fount were springing.

What mystic joy I felt! What rapt devotion!

That form, how pregnant with a G.o.dlike trace!

A look, how did it whirl me tow'rd that ocean Whose rolling billows mightier shapes embrace!

Mysterious vessel! Oracle how dear!

Even to grasp thee is my hand too base,

Except to steal thee from thy prison here With pious purpose, and devoutly go

Back to the air, free thoughts, and sunlight clear.

What greater gain in life can man e'er know

Than when G.o.d-Nature will to him explain How into Spirit steadfastness may flow,

How steadfast, too, the Spirit-Born remain.

1826.

----- ROYAL PRAYER.

HA, I am the lord of earth! The n.o.ble,

Who're in my service, love me.

Ha, I am the lord of earth! The n.o.ble,

O'er whom my sway extendeth, love I.

Oh, grant me, G.o.d in Heaven, that I may ne'er

Dispense with loftiness and love!

1815.*

----- HUMAN FEELINGS.

AH, ye G.o.ds! ye great immortals In the s.p.a.cious heavens above us!

Would ye on this earth but give us Steadfast minds and dauntless courage We, oh kindly ones, would leave you All your s.p.a.cious heavens above us!

1815.*

----- ON THE DIVAN.

HE who knows himself and others

Here will also see, That the East and West, like brothers,

Parted ne'er shall be.

Thoughtfully to float for ever

'Tween two worlds, be man's endeavour!

So between the East and West

To revolve, be my behest!

1833.*

----- EXPLANATION OF AN ANCIENT WOODCUT, REPRESENTING HANS SACHS' POETICAL MISSION.

[I feel considerable hesitation in venturing to offer this version of a poem which Carlyle describes to be 'a beautiful piece (a very Hans Sacks beatified, both in character and style), which we wish there was any possibility of translating.' The reader will be aware that Hans Sachs was the celebrated Minstrel- Cobbler of Nuremberg, who Wrote 208 plays, 1700 comic tales, and between 4000 and 5000 lyric poems. He flourished throughout almost the whole of the 16th century.]

EARLY within his workshop here, On Sundays stands our master dear; His dirty ap.r.o.n he puts away, And wears a cleanly doublet to-day; Lets wax'd thread, hammer, and pincers rest, And lays his awl within his chest; The seventh day he takes repose From many pulls and many blows.

Soon as the spring-sun meets his view, Repose begets him labour anew; He feels that he holds within his brain A little world, that broods there amain, And that begins to act and to live, Which he to others would gladly give.

He had a skilful eye and true, And was full kind and loving too.

For contemplation, clear and pure,-- For making all his own again, sure; He had a tongue that charm'd when 'twas heard, And graceful and light flow'd ev'ry word; Which made the Muses in him rejoice, The Master-singer of their choice.

And now a maiden enter'd there, With swelling breast, and body fair; With footing firm she took her place, And moved with stately, n.o.ble grace; She did not walk in wanton mood, Nor look around with glances lewd.

She held a measure in her hand, Her girdle was a golden band, A wreath of corn was on her head, Her eye the day's bright l.u.s.tre shed; Her name is honest Industry, Else, Justice, Magnanimity.