I hoped it, I deserved it ne'er!
But, when the morning sun return'd,Departure filled with grief my heart:
Within thy kiss, what rapture burn'd!
But in thy look, what bitter smart!
I went--thy gaze to earth first rovedThou follow'dst me with tearful eye:
And yet, what rapture to be loved!
And, Gods, to love--what ecstasy!
1771.
NEW LOVE, NEW LIFE.
[Written at the time of Goethe's connection with Lily.]
HEART! my heart! what means this feeling?
What oppresseth thee so sore?
What strange life is o'er me stealing!
I acknowledge thee no more.
Fled is all that gave thee gladness, Fled the cause of all thy sadness,Fled thy peace, thine industry--Ah, why suffer it to be?
Say, do beauty's graces youthful,Does this form so fair and bright, Does this gaze, so kind, so truthful,Chain thee with unceasing might?
Would I tear me from her boldly, Courage take, and fly her coldly,Back to her.I'm forthwith ledBy the path I seek to tread.
By a thread I ne'er can sever,For 'tis 'twined with magic skill, Doth the cruel maid for everHold me fast against my will.
While those magic chains confine me, To her will I must resign me.
Ah, the change in truth is great!
Love! kind love! release me straight!
1775.
TO BELINDA.
[This song was also written for Lily.Goethe mentions, at the end of his Autobiography, that he overheard her singing it one evening after he had taken his last farewell of her.]
WHEREFORE drag me to yon glittering eddy,With resistless might?
Was I, then, not truly blest alreadyIn the silent night?
In my secret chamber refuge taking,'Neath the moon's soft ray, And her awful light around me breaking,Musing there I lay.
And I dream'd of hours with joy o'erflowing,Golden, truly blest, While thine image so beloved was glowingDeep within my breast.
Now to the card-table hast thou bound me,'Midst the torches glare?
Whilst unhappy faces are around me,Dost thou hold me there?
Spring-flow'rs are to me more rapture-giving,Now conceal'd from view;Where thou, angel, art, is Nature living,Love and kindness too.
1775.
MAY SONG.
How fair doth NatureAppear again!
How bright the sunbeams!
How smiles the plain!
The flow'rs are burstingFrom ev'ry bough, And thousand voicesEach bush yields now.
And joy and gladnessFill ev'ry breast!
Oh earth!--oh sunlight!
Oh rapture blest!
Oh love! oh loved one!
As golden bright, As clouds of morningOn yonder height!
Thou blessest gladlyThe smiling field,--The world in fragrantVapour conceal'd.
Oh maiden, maiden,How love I thee!
Thine eye, how gleams it!
How lov'st thou me!
The blithe lark lovethSweet song and air, The morning flow'retHeav'n's incense fair,As I now love theeWith fond desire, For thou dost give meYouth, joy, and fire,For new-born dancesAnd minstrelsy.
Be ever happy,As thou lov'st me!
1775.
WITH A PAINTED RIBBON.
LITTLE leaves and flow'rets too,Scatter we with gentle hand, Kind young spring-gods to the view,Sporting on an airy band.
Zephyr, bear it on the wing,Twine it round my loved one's dress;To her glass then let her spring,Full of eager joyousness.
Roses round her let her see,She herself a youthful rose.
Grant, dear life, one look to me!
'Twill repay me all my woes,What this bosom feels, feel thou.
Freely offer me thy hand;
Let the band that joins us nowBe no fragile rosy band!
1770.
WITH A GOLDEN NECKLACE.
THIS page a chain to bring thee burns,That, train'd to suppleness of old, On thy fair neck to nestle, yearns,In many a hundred little fold.
To please the silly thing consent!
'Tis harmless, and from boldness free;
By day a trifling ornament,At night 'tis cast aside by thee.
But if the chain they bring thee ever,Heavier, more fraught with weal or woe, I'd then, Lisette, reproach thee neverIf thou shouldst greater scruples show.
1775.
ON THE LAKE
[Written on the occasion of Goethe's starting with his friend Passavant on a Swiss Tour.]
I DRINK fresh nourishment, new bloodFrom out this world more free;The Nature is so kind and goodThat to her breast clasps me!
The billows toss our bark on high,And with our oars keep time, While cloudy mountains tow'rd the skyBefore our progress climb.
Say, mine eye, why sink'st thou down?
Golden visions, are ye flown?
Hence, thou dream, tho' golden-twin'd;
Here, too, love and life I find.
Over the waters are blinkingMany a thousand fair star;Gentle mists are drinkingRound the horizon afar.
Round the shady creek lightlyMorning zephyrs awake, And the ripen'd fruit brightlyMirrors itself in the lake.
1775.
FROM THE MOUNTAIN.
[Written just after the preceding one, on a mountain overlooking the Lake of Zurich.]
IF I, dearest Lily, did not love thee,How this prospect would enchant my sight!
And yet if I, Lily, did not love thee,Could I find, or here, or there, delight?
1775.
FLOWER-SALUTE.
THIS nosegay,--'twas I dress'd it,--Greets thee a thousand times!
Oft stoop'd I, and caress'd it,Ah! full a thousand times, And 'gainst my bosom press'd itA hundred thousand times!
1815.
IN SUMMER.
How plain and height With dewdrops are bright!
How pearls have crown'd The plants all around!
How sighs the breeze Thro' thicket and trees!
How loudly in the sun's clear rays The sweet birds carol forth their lays!
But, ah! above, Where saw I my love, Within her room, Small, mantled in gloom, Enclosed around, Where sunlight was drown'd, How little there was earth to me, With all its beauteous majesty!
1776.
MAY SONG.
BETWEEN wheatfield and corn, Between hedgerow and thorn, Between pasture and tree, Where's my sweetheart Tell it me!
Sweetheart caught I
Not at home;
She's then, thought I.
Gone to roam.
Fair and lovingBlooms sweet May;
Sweetheart's roving,Free and gay.
By the rock near the wave, Where her first kiss she gave, On the greensward, to me,--Something I see!
Is it she?
1812.
PREMATURE SPRING.
DAYS full of rapture,Are ye renew'd ?--Smile in the sunlightMountain and wood?
Streams richer ladenFlow through the dale, Are these the meadows?
Is this the vale?
Coolness cerulean!
Heaven and height!
Fish crowd the ocean,Golden and bright.
