Volume 16 — GOETHE (continued 2)

"What notes are those without the wall, Across the portal sounding? Let's have the music in our hall, Back from its roof rebounding." So spoke the king: the henchman flies; His answer heard, the monarch cries, "Bring in that ancient minstrel." "Hail, gracious king, each noble knight! Each lovely dame, I greet you! What glittering stars salute my sight! What heart unmoved may meet you! Such lordly pomp is not for me, Far other scenes my eyes must see: Yet deign to list my harping." The singer turns him to his art, A thrilling strain he raises; Each warrior hears with glowing heart And on his loved one gazes. The king, who liked his playing well, Commands, for such a kindly spell, A golden chain be given him. "The golden chain give not to me: Thy boldest knight may wear it, Who 'cross the battle's purple sea On lion breast may bear it; Or let it be thy chancellor's prize, Amid his heaps to feast his eyes,— Its yellow glance will please him. "I sing but as the linnet sings, That on the green bough dwelleth; A rich reward his music brings, As from his throat it swelleth: Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine One sparkling draught of purest wine To drink it here before you." He viewed the wine, he quaffed it up: "O draught of sweetest savor! O happy house, where such a cup Is thought a little favor! If well you fare, remember me, And thank kind Heaven, from envy free, As now for this I thank you."

Who never ate his bread in sorrow, Who never spent the darksome hours Weeping and watching for the morrow,— He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers. To earth, this weary earth, ye bring us, To guilt ye let us heedless go, Then leave repentance fierce to wring us; A moment's guilt, an age of woe!

Such let me seem, till such I be; Take not my snow-white dress away! Soon from this dusk of earth I flee, Up to the glittering lands of day. There first a little space I rest, Then wake so glad, to scenes so kind; In earthly robes no longer drest, This band, this girdle left behind. And those calm shining sons of morn, They ask not who is maid or boy; No robes, no garments there are worn, Our body pure from sin's alloy. Through little life not much I toiled, Yet anguish long this heart has wrung, Untimely woe my blossoms spoiled: Make me again forever young!

Sing me not with such emotion How the night so lonesome is; Pretty maids, I've got a notion It is the reverse of this. For as wife and man are plighted, And the better half the wife, So is night to day united,— Night's the better half of life. Can you joy in bustling daytime,— Day, when none can get his will? It is good for work, for haytime; For much other it is ill. But when in the nightly glooming, Social lamp on table glows, Face for faces dear illuming, And such jest and joyance goes; When the fiery pert young fellow, Wont by day to run or ride, Whispering now some tale would tell O,— All so gentle by your side; When the nightingale to lovers Lovingly her songlet sings, Which for exiles and sad rovers Like mere woe and wailing rings; With a heart how lightsome-feeling Do ye count the kindly clock, Which, twelve times deliberate pealing, Tells you none to-night shall knock! Therefore, on all fit occasions, Mark it, maidens, what I sing: Every day its own vexations, And the night its joys will bring.

Blacken thy heavens, Jove, With thunder-clouds, And exercise thee, like a boy Who thistles crops, With smiting oaks and mountain-tops: Yet must leave me standing My own firm earth; Must leave my cottage, which thou didst not build, And my warm hearth, Whose cheerful glow Thou enviest me. I know naught more pitiful Under the sun, than you, gods! Ye nourish scantily With altar taxes And with cold lip-service, This your majesty;— Would perish, were not Children and beggars Credulous fools. When I was a child, And knew not whence or whither, I would turn my 'wildered eye To the sun, as if up yonder were An ear to hear to my complaining—A heart, like mine, On the oppressed to feel compassion. Who helped me When I braved the Titans' insolence? Who rescued me from death, From slavery? Hast thou not all thyself accomplished, Holy-glowing heart? And, glowing, young, and good, Most ignorantly thanked The slumberer above there? I honor thee! For what? Hast thou the miseries lightened Of the down-trodden? Hast thou the tears ever banished From the afflicted? Have I not to manhood been molded By omnipotent Time, And by Fate everlasting, My lords and thine? Dreamedst thou ever I should grow weary of living, And fly to the desert, Since not all our Pretty dream buds ripen? Here sit I, fashion men In mine own image,— A race to be like me, To weep and to suffer, To be happy and enjoy themselves, To be careless of thee too, As I!

Thou that from the heavens art, Every pain and sorrow stillest, And the doubly wretched heart Doubly with refreshment fillest, I am weary with contending! Why this rapture and unrest? Peace descending, Come, ah come into my breast! O'er all the hill-tops Is quiet now, In all the tree-tops Hearest thou Hardly a breath; The birds are asleep in the trees: Wait; soon like these Thou too shalt rest.

Who rides so late through the midnight blast? 'Tis a father spurs on with his child full fast; He gathers the boy well into his arm, He clasps him close and he keeps him warm. "My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?"— "Father, dost thou not see the elfin-king? The elfin-king with his crown and train!"— "My son, 'tis a streak of the misty rain!" "Come hither, thou darling, come, go with me! Fine games I know that I'll play with thee; Flowers many and bright do my kingdoms hold, My mother has many a robe of gold." "O father, dear father, and dost thou not hear What the elfin-king whispers so low in mine ear?"— "Calm, calm thee, my boy, it is only the breeze, As it rustles the withered leaves under the trees." "Wilt thou go, bonny boy, wilt thou go with me? My daughters shall wait on thee daintily; My daughters around thee in dance shall sweep, And rock thee and kiss thee and sing thee to sleep." "O father, dear father, and dost thou not mark The elf-king's daughters move by in the dark?"— "I see it, my child; but it is not they, 'Tis the old willow nodding its head so gray." "I love thee! thy beauty it charms me so; And I'll take thee by force, if thou wilt not go!" "O father, dear father, he's grasping me,— My heart is as cold as cold can be!" The father rides swiftly,—with terror he gasps,— The sobbing child in his arms he clasps; He reaches the castle with spurring and dread; But alack! in his arms the child lay dead!

Whom thou desertest not, O Genius, Neither blinding rain nor storm Breathes upon his heart a chill. Whom thou desertest not, O Genius, To the lowering clouds, To the beating hail, He will sing cheerly, As the lark there, Thou that soarest. Whom thou desertest not, O Genius, Him thou'lt lift o'er miry places On thy flaming pinions: He will traverse As on feet of flowers Slime of Deucalion's deluge; Slaying Python, strong, great, Pythius Apollo! Whom thou desertest not, O Genius, Thou wilt spread thy downy wings beneath him, When he sleeps upon the crags; Thou wilt cover him with guardian pinions In the midnight forest depths. Whom thou desertest not, O Genius, Thou wilt in whirling snow-storm Warmly wrap him round; To the warmth fly the Muses, To the warmth fly the Graces. Around me float, ye Muses, And float, ye Graces! This is water, this is earth And the son of water and of earth, Over whom I wander Like the gods. You are pure like the heart of water, You are pure like the core of earth; You float around me, and I float Over water, over earth, Like the gods.

Noble be Man, Helpful and good! For that alone Doth distinguish him From all the beings Which we know. Hail to the Unknown, the Higher Beings Felt within us! His pattern teach us Faith in them! For unfeeling Is Nature: Still shineth the sun Over good and evil: And to the sinner Smile, as to the best, The moon and the stars. Wind and waters, Thunder and hailstones, Rustle on their way, Smiting down as They dash along, One for another. Just so does Fate Grope round in the crowd, Seize now the innocent, Curly-haired boy, Now on the old, bald Crown of the villain. By great adamantine Laws everlasting, Here we must all our Round of existence Faithfully finish. There can none but Man Perform the Impossible. He understandeth, Chooseth, and judgeth; He can impart to the Moment duration. He alone may The Good reward, The Guilty punish, Mend and deliver; All the wayward, anomalous Bind in the Useful. And the Immortals— Them we reverence, As if they were men, and Did, on a grand scale, What the best man in little Does, or fain would do. Let noble Man Be helpful and good! Ever creating The Right and the Useful— Type of those loftier Beings of whom the heart whispers!

O ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets, Grant unto each whatsoever he may in silence desire! Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction, And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves. For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals, Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide.

For a praiseworthy object we're now gathered here, So, brethren, sing Ergo bibamus! Though talk may be hushed, yet the glasses ring clear: Remember then, Ergo bibamus! In truth 'tis an old, 'tis an excellent word; With its sound so befitting each bosom is stirred, And an echo the festal hall filling is heard, A glorious Ergo bibamus! I saw mine own love in her beauty so rare, And bethought me of Ergo bibamus; So I gently approached, and she let me stand there, While I helped myself, thinking, Bibamus! And when she's appeared, and will clasp you and kiss, Or when those embraces and kisses ye miss, Take refuge, till found is some worthier bliss, In the comforting Ergo bibamus! I am called by my fate far away from each friend; Ye loved ones, then, Ergo bibamus! With wallet light-laden from hence I must wend, So double our Ergo bibamus! Whatever to his treasure the niggard may add, Yet regard for the joyous will ever be had, For gladness lends ever its charms to the glad, So, brethren, sing: Ergo bibamus! And what shall we say of to-day as it flies? I thought but of Ergo bibamus! 'Tis one of those truly that seldom arise, So again and again sing Bibamus! For joy through a wide-open portal it guides, Bright glitter the clouds as the curtain divides, And a form, a divine one, to greet us in glides, While we thunder our Ergo bibamus.

Farther and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-covered flood! Long is the track plowed up by the keel where dolphins are sporting, Following fast in its rear, while it seems flying pursuit. All forebodes a prosperous voyage; the sailor with calmness Leans 'gainst the sail, which alone all that is needed performs. Forward presses the heart of each seaman, like colors and streamers; Backward one only is seen, mournfully fixed near the mast, While on the blue-tinged mountains, which fast are receding, he gazeth, And as they sink in the sea, joy from his bosom departs. Vanished from thee, too, O Dora, is now the vessel that robs thee Of thine Alexis, thy friend,—ah, thy betrothèd as well! Thou, too, art after me gazing in vain. Our hearts are still throbbing, Though for each other, yet ah! 'gainst one another no more. O thou single moment, wherein I found life! thou outweighest Every day which had else coldly from memory fled. 'Twas in that moment alone, the last, that upon me descended Life such as deities grant, though thou perceivèdst it not. Phœbus, in vain with thy rays dost thou clothe the ether in glory: Thine all-brightening day hateful alone is to me. Into myself I retreat for shelter, and there in the silence Strive to recover the time when she appeared with each day. Was it possible beauty like this to see, and not feel it? Worked not those heavenly charms e'en on a mind dull as thine? Blame not thyself, unhappy one! Oft doth the bard an enigma Thus propose to the throng, skillfully hidden in words; Each one enjoys the strange commingling of images graceful, Yet still is wanting the word which will discover the sense. When at length it is found, the heart of each hearer is gladdened, And in the poem he sees meaning of twofold delight. Wherefore so late didst thou remove the bandage, O Amor, Which thou hadst placed o'er mine eyes,—wherefore remove it so late? Long did the vessel, when laden, lie waiting for favoring breezes, Till in kindness the wind blew from the land o'er the sea. Vacant times of youth! and vacant dreams of the future! Ye all vanish, and naught, saving the moment, remains. Yes! it remains,—my joy still remains! I hold thee, my Dora, And thine image alone, Dora, by hope is disclosed. Oft have I seen thee go, with modesty clad, to the temple, While thy mother so dear solemnly went by thy side. Eager and nimble thou wert, in bearing thy fruit to the market, Boldly the pail from the well didst thou sustain on thy head. Then was revealed thy neck, then seen thy shoulders so beauteous, Then, before all things, the grace filling thy motions was seen. Oft have I feared that the pitcher perchance was in danger of falling, Yet it ever remained firm on the circular cloth. Thus, fair neighbor, yes, thus I oft was wont to observe thee, As on the stars I might gaze, as I might gaze on the moon; Glad indeed at the sight, yet feeling within my calm bosom 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 crossed. 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 exclaimed, "Hasten thee quick to the strand! Hoisted the sail is already, e'en now in the wind it is fluttering, While the anchor they weigh, heaving it up from the sand; Come, Alexis, oh come!"—My worthy stout-hearted father Pressed, with a blessing, his hand down on my curly-locked head, While my mother carefully reached 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 wilt thou visit, and precious merchandise purchase, Ornaments meet for the rich matrons who dwell in the town; Bring me also, I pray thee, a light chain; gladly I'll pay thee, Oft have I wished to possess some such a trinket as that." There I remained, and asked, 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 deserved 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 thy hand as I spake, ever obeying thy touch. Presently didst thou reach the arbor; there lay there a basket, Sweet blooming myrtle-trees waved, 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 heavy as though 'twere of gold, Then the yielding fig, by the slightest pressure disfigured, And with myrtle, the gift soon was both covered and graced. 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 kissed I thy neck. On my shoulder sank thy head; thy fair arms, encircling, Soon rendered perfect the ring knitting a rapturous pair. Amor's hands I felt; he pressed us together with ardor, And from the firmament clear, thrice did it thunder; then tears Streamed from mine eyes in torrents, thou weptest, I wept, both were weeping, And 'mid our sorrow and bliss, even the world seemed to die. Louder and louder they called 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 Seemed 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 peeped through the door. How he the basket snatched up! How he urged me away! how pressed I thy hand! Dost thou ask me How the vessel I reached? Drunken I seemed, 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 obscured. "Thine forever!" 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 favoring zephyr! Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam! Bring me unto the foreign harbor, so that the goldsmith May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge! Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, O my Dora! Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwined. 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 opposed, seeming its foil; while the gold Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled. Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betrothed! 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 woolen 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 barking, 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 arbor? 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 erelong, doubtless, will turn herself round. Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken! Thunder more fearfully! Strike!—Stay—thy fierce lightnings 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.