Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
Through thee I'm
hither flying,
Thou wilt not list before
In slumbers thou art lying:
Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
1803.*
-----
LONGING.
WHAT pulls at my heart so?
What tells me to roam?
What drags me and lures me
From
chamber and home?
How round the cliffs gather
The clouds high in air!
I fain would go t
hither,
I fain would be there!
The sociable
flightOf the ravens comes back;
I
mingleamongst them,
And follow their track.
Round wall and round mountain
Together we fly;
She tarries below there,
I after her spy.
Then
onward she wanders,
My
flight I wing soon
To the wood fill'd with bushes,
A bird of sweet tune.
She tarries and hearkens,
And smiling, thinks she:
"How
sweetly he's singing!
He's singing to me!"
The heights are illum'd
By the fast
setting sun;
The
pensive fair
maidenLooks
thoughtfully on;
She roams by the
streamlet,
O'er meadows she goes,
And darker and darker
The
pathway fast grows.
I rise on a sudden,
A glimmering star;
"What glitters above me,
So near and so far?"
And when thou with wonder
Hast gazed on the light,
I fall down before thee,
Entranced by thy sight!
1803.
-----
TO MIGNON.
OVER vale and
torrent far
Rolls along the sun's bright car.
Ah! he wakens in his course
Mine, as thy deep-seated smart
In the heart.
Ev'ry morning with new force.
Scarce avails night aught to me;
E'en the visions that I see
Come but in a
mournful guise;
And I feel this silent smart
In my heart
With
creative pow'r arise.
During many a
beauteous year
I have seen ships 'neath me steer,
As they seek the shelt'ring bay;
But, alas, each
lasting smart
In my heart
Floats not with the
stream away.
I must wear a gala dress,
Long stored up within my press,
For to-day to feasts is given;
None know with what bitter smart
Is my heart
Fearfully and madly riven.
Secretly I weep each tear,
Yet can
cheerful e'en appear,
With a face of
healthy red;
For if
deadly were this silent smart
In my heart,
Ah, I then had long been dead!
-----
THE MOUNTAIN CASTLE.
THERE stands on yonder high mountain
A castle built of yore,
Where once lurked horse and horseman
In rear of gate and of door.
Now door and gate are in ashes,
And all around is so still;
And over the fallen ruins
I
clamber just as I will.
Below once lay a cellar,
With
costly wines well stor'd;
No more the glad maid with her pitcher
Descends there to draw from the hoard.
No longer the
goblet she places
Before the guests at the feast;
The flask at the meal so hallow'd
No longer she fills for the
priest.
No more for the eager
squireThe
draught in the passage is pour'd;
No more for the flying present
Receives she the flying reward.
For all the roof and the rafters,
They all long since have been burn'd,
And stairs and passage and chapel
To
rubbish and ruins are turn'd.
Yet when with lute and with flagon,
When day was smiling and bright,
I've watch'd my
mistress climbing
To gain this
perilous height,
Then
rapturejoyous and radiant
The silence so
desolate brake,
And all, as in days long vanish'd,
Once more to
enjoyment awoke;
As if for guests of high station
The largest rooms were prepared;
As if from those times so precious
A couple t
hither had fared;
As if there stood in his chapel
The
priest in his
sacred dress,
And ask'd: "Would ye twain be united?"
And we, with a smile, answer'd, "Yes!"
And songs that breath'd a deep feeling,
That touched the heart's innermost chord,
The music-fraught mouth of sweet echo,
Instead of the many, outpour'd.
And when at eve all was hidden
In silence
unbroken and deep,
The glowing sun then look'd upwards,
And gazed on the
summit so steep.
And
squire and
maiden then glitter'd
As bright and gay as a lord,
She seized the time for her present,
And he to give her reward.
1803.*
-----
THE SPIRIT'S SALUTE.
THE hero's noble shade stands high
On yonder
turret grey;
And as the ship is sailing by,
He speeds it on his way.
"See with what strength these sinews thrill'd!
This heart, how firm and wild!
These bones, what
knightlymarrow fill'd!
This cup, how bright it smil'd!
"Half of my life I
strove and fought,
And half I
calmly pass'd;
And thou, oh ship with beings fraught,
Sail
safely to the last!"
1774.
-----
TO A GOLDEN HEART THAT HE WORE ROUND HIS NECK.
[Addressed, during the Swiss tour already mentioned, to a present
Lily had given him, during the time of their happy connection,
which was then about to be terminated for ever.]
OH thou token loved of joys now perish'd
That I still wear from my neck suspended,
Art thou stronger than our spirit-bond so cherish'd?
Or canst thou
prolong love's days
untimely ended?
Lily, I fly from thee! I still am doom'd to range
Thro' countries strange,
Thro' distant vales and woods, link'd on to thee!
Ah, Lily's heart could surely never fall
So soon away from me!
As when a bird bath broken from his thrall,
And seeks the forest green,
Proof of
imprisonment he bears behind him,
A
morsel of the thread once used to bind him;
The free-born bird of old no more is seen,
For he another's prey bath been.
1775.
-----
THE BLISS OF SORROW.
NEVER dry, never dry,
Tears that
eternal love sheddeth!
How
dreary, how dead doth the world still appear,
When only half-dried on the eye is the tear!
Never dry, never dry,
Tears that
unhappy love sheddeth!
1789.*
-----
THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG.
THOU who comest from on high,
Who all woes and sorrows stillest,
Who, for twofold misery,
Hearts with twofold balsam fillest,
Would this
constantstrife would cease!
What are pain and
rapture now?
Blissful Peace,
To my bosom
hasten thou!
1789.*
-----
THE SAME.
[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of
Ilmenau, on the walls of a little
hermitage where Goethe composed
the last act of his Iphigenia.]
HUSH'D on the hill
Is the breeze;
Scarce by the zephyr
The trees