Not the remotest desire ever to call them mine own.

Years thus fleeted away! Although our houses were only
Twenty paces apart, yet I thy threshold ne'er cross'd.

Now by the fearful flood are we parted! Thou liest to Heaven,
Billow! thy beautiful blue seems to me dark as the night.

All were now in movement; a boy to the house of my father
Ran at full speed and exclaim'd: "Hasten thee quick to the strand

Hoisted the sail is already, e'en now in the wind it is flutt'ring,
While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand;

Come, Alexis, oh come!"--My worthy stout-hearted father
Press'd, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-lock'd head,

While my mother carefully reach'd me a newly-made bundle,
"Happy mayst thou return!" cried they--" both happy and rich!"

Then I sprang away, and under my arm held the bundle,
Running along by the wall. Standing I found thee hard by,

At the door of thy garden. Thou smilingly saidst then "Alexis!
Say, are yon boisterous crew going thy comrades to be?

Foreign coasts will thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase,
Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town.

Bring me, also, I praythee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee,
Oft have I wish'd to possess some stich a trinket as that."

There I remain'd, and ask'd, as merchants are wont, with precision
After the form and the weight which thy commission should have.

Modest, indeed, was the price thou didst name! I meanwhile was gazing
On thy neck which deserv'd ornaments worn but by queens.

Loudly now rose the cry from the ship; then kindly thou spakest
"Take, I entreat thee, some fruit out of the garden, my friend

Take the ripest oranges, figs of the whitest; the ocean
Beareth no fruit, and, in truth, 'tis not produced by each land."

So I entered in. Thou pluckedst the fruit from the branches,
And the burden of gold was in thine apron upheld.

Oft did I cry, Enough! But fairer fruits were still falling
Into the hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch.

Presently didst thou reached the arbour; there lay there a basket,
Sweet bloomingmyrtle trees wav'd, as we drew nigh, o'er our heads.

Then thou began'st to arrange the fruit with skill and in silence:
First the orange, which lay heavy as though 'twere of gold,

Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigur'd,
And with myrtle the gift soon was both cover'd and grac'd.

But I raised it not up. I stood. Our eyes met together,
And my eyesight grew dim, seeming obscured by a film,

Soon I felt thy bosom on mine! Mine arm was soon twining
Round thy beautiful form; thousand times kiss'd I thy neck.

On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling,
Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting the rapturous pair.

Amor's hands I felt: he press'd us together with ardour,
And, from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears

Stream'd from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were weeping,
And, 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seem'd to die.

Louder and louder they calI'd from the strand; my feet would no longer
Bear my weight, and I cried:--"Dora! and art thou not mine?"

"Thine forever!" thou gently didst say. Then the tears we were shedding
Seem'd to be wiped from our eyes, as by the breath of a god.

Nearer was heard the cry "Alexis!" The stripling who sought me
Suddenly peep'd through the door. How he the basket snatch'd up!

How he urged me away! how press'd I thy hand! Wouldst thou ask me
How the vessel I reach'd? Drunken I seem'd, well I know.

Drunken my shipmates believed me, and so had pity upon me;
And as the breeze drove us on, distance the town soon obscur'd.

"Thine for ever!" thou, Dora, didst murmur; it fell on my senses
With the thunder of Zeus! while by the thunderer's throne

Stood his daughter, the Goddess of Love; the Graces were standing
Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine!

Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favouring zephyr!
Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam!

Bring me unto the foreign harbour, so that the goldsmith
May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!

Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, oh my Dora!
Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwin'd

Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets,
Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand.

There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely
Be to the jacinth oppos'd, seeming its foil; while the gold

Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled.
Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betroth'd!

Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me
Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form.

I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee,
Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee.

Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring;
With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight.

Fine and woollen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple,
Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest;

Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest
Me, and thyself, and, perchance, even a third with it too.

Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly Immortals,
Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast!

Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments.
When, in their stead, care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm.

Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of hell with their harking
Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair,

As by the motionless spectre I'm awed, that shows me the fair one
Far away: of a truth, open the garden-door stands!

And another one cometh! For him the fruit, too, is falling,
And for him, also, the fig strengthening honey doth yield!

Doth she entice him as well to the arbour? He follows? Oh, make me
Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind!

Yes, she is but a maiden! And she who to one doth so quickly
Yield, to another ere long, doubtless, Will turn herself round.

Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken!
Thunder more fearfully! Strike!--Stay--thy fiercelightnings withhold!

Hurl at me thy quivering bolt! In the darkness of midnight
Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck!

Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows
All these wares, and let me be to the dolphins a prey

Now, ye Muses, enough! In vain would ye strive to depicture
How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss.

Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted;
Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.

1796.
-----

HERMANN AND DOROTHEA.
IN NINE CANTOS.

-----
I. KALLIOPE.

FATE AND SYMPATHY.
"NE'ER have I seen the market and streets so thoroughly empty!

Still as the grave is the town, clear'd out! I verily fancy
Fifty at most of all our inhabitants still may be found there.

People are so inquisitive! All are running and racing
Merely to see the sad train of poor fellows driven to exile.

Down to the causeway now building, the distance nearly a league is,
And they thitherward rush, in the heat and the dust of the noonday.

As for me, I had rather not stir from my place just to stare at
Worthy and sorrowful fugitives, who, with what goods they can carry,

Leaving their own fair land on the further side of the Rhine-stream,
Over to us are crossing, and wander through the delightful

Nooks of this fruitful vale, with all its twistings and windings.
Wife, you did right well to bid our son go and meet them,

Taking with him old linen, and something to eat and to drink too,
Just to give to the poor; the rich are bound to befriend them.

How he is driving along! How well he holds in the horses!
Then the new little carriage looks very handsome; inside it

Four can easily sit, besides the one on the coachbox.
This time he is alone; how easily-turns it the corner!"