If now we together dwell, Will true love remain as well?
For if that should e'er decay, Happiness would pass away.
Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo, Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!
1803.
(Gracefully in infinitum.)
THE HAPPY COUPLE.
AFTER these vernal rainsThat we so warmly sought, Dear wife, see how our plainsWith blessings sweet are fraught!
We cast our distant gazeFar in the misty blue;Here gentle love still strays,Here dwells still rapture true.
Thou seest whither goYon pair of pigeons white, Where swelling violets blowRound sunny foliage bright.
'Twas there we gather'd firstA nosegay as we roved;There into flame first burstThe passion that we proved.
Yet when, with plighted troth,The priest beheld us fare Home from the altar both,With many a youthful pair,--Then other moons had birth,And many a beauteous sun, Then we had gain'd the earthWhereon life's race to run.
A hundred thousand foldThe mighty bond was seal'd;In woods, on mountains cold,In bushes, in the field, Within the wall, in caves,And on the craggy height, And love, e'en o'er the waves,Bore in his tube the light.
Contented we remain'd,We deem'd ourselves a pair;'Twas otherwise ordain'd,For, lo! a third was there;A fourth, fifth, sixth appear'd,And sat around our board;And now the plants we've rear'dHigh o'er our heads have soar'd!
How fair and pleasant looks,On yonder beauteous spot, Embraced by poplar-brooks,The newly-finish'd cot!
Who is it there that sitsIn that glad home above?
Is't not our darling FritzWith his own darling love?
Beside yon precipice,Whence pent-up waters steal, And leaving the abyss,Fall foaming through the wheel, Though people often tellOf millers' wives so fair, Yet none can e'er excelOur dearest daughter there!
Yet where the thick-set greenStands round yon church and sad, Where the old fir-tree's seenAlone tow'rd heaven to nod,--'Tis there the ashes lieOf our untimely dead;From earth our gaze on highBy their blest memory's led.
See how yon hill is brightWith billowy-waving arms!
The force returns, whose mightHas vanquished war's alarms.
Who proudly hastens hereWith wreath-encircled brow?
'Tis like our child so dearThus Charles comes homeward now.
That dearest honour'd guestIs welcom'd by the bride;She makes the true one blest,At the glad festal tide.
And ev'ry one makes hasteTo join the dance with glee;While thou with wreaths hast gracedThe youngest children three.
To sound of flute and hornThe time appears renew'd, When we, in love's young morn,In the glad dance upstood;And perfect bliss I knowEre the year's course is run, For to the font we goWith grandson and with son!
1803.
SONG OF FELLOWSHIP.
[Written and sung in honour of the birthday of the Pastor Ewald at the time of Goethe's happy connection with Lily.]
IN ev'ry hour of joyThat love and wine prolong, The moments we'll employTo carol forth this song!
We're gathered in His name,Whose power hath brought us here;He kindled first our flame,He bids it burn more clear.
Then gladly glow to-night,And let our hearts combine!
Up! quaff with fresh delightThis glass of sparkling wine!
Up! hail the joyous hour,And let your kiss be true;With each new bond of powerThe old becomes the new!
Who in our circle lives,And is not happy there?
True liberty it gives,And brother's love so fair.
Thus heart and heart through lifeWith mutual love are fill'd;And by no causeless strifeOur union e'er is chill'd.
Our hopes a God has crown'dWith life-discernment free, And all we view around,Renews our ecstasy.
Ne'er by caprice oppress'd,Our bliss is ne'er destroy'd;More freely throbs our breast,By fancies ne'er alloy'd.
Where'er our foot we set,The more life's path extends, And brighter, brighter yetOur gaze on high ascends.
We know no grief or pain,Though all things fall and rise;Long may we thus remain!
Eternal be our ties!
1775.
CONSTANCY IN CHANGE.
COULD this early bliss but restConstant for one single hour!
But e'en now the humid WestScatters many a vernal shower.
Should the verdure give me joy?
'Tis to it I owe the shade;
Soon will storms its bloom destroy,Soon will Autumn bid it fade.
Eagerly thy portion seize,If thou wouldst possess the fruit!
Fast begin to ripen these,And the rest already shoot.
With each heavy storm of rainChange comes o'er thy valley fair;Once, alas! but not againCan the same stream hold thee e'er.
And thyself, what erst at leastFirm as rocks appear'd to rise, Walls and palaces thou seestBut with ever-changing eyes.
Fled for ever now the lipThat with kisses used to glow, And the foot, that used to skipO'er the mountain, like the roe.
And the hand, so true and warm,Ever raised in charity, And the cunning-fashion'd form,--All are now changed utterly.
And what used to bear thy name,When upon yon spot it stood, Like a rolling billow came,Hast'ning on to join the flood.
Be then the beginning foundWith the end in unison, Swifter than the forms aroundAre themselves now fleeting on!
Thank the merit in thy breast,Thank the mould within thy heart, That the Muses' favour blest Ne'er will perish, ne'er depart.
1803.
TABLE SONG.
[Composed for the merry party already mentioned, on the occasion of the departure for France of the hereditary prince, who was one of the number, and who is especially alluded to in the 3rd verse.]
O'ER me--how I cannot say,--Heav'nly rapture's growing.
Will it help to guide my wayTo yon stars all-glowing?
Yet that here I'd sooner be,To assert I'm able, Where, with wine and harmony,I may thump the table.
Wonder not, my dearest friends,What 'tis gives me pleasure;For of all that earth e'er lends,'Tis the sweetest treasure.
Therefore solemnly I swear,With no reservation, That maliciously I'll ne'erLeave my present station.
Now that here we're gather'd round,Chasing cares and slumbers, Let, methought, the goblet soundTo the bard's glad numbers!
Many a hundred mile away,Go those we love dearly;Therefore let us here to-dayMake the glass ring clearly!
Here's His health, through Whom we live!
