The Poems of Goethe Part 16

Thou follow'dst me with tearful eye: And yet, what rapture to be loved!

And, G.o.ds, 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 led

By 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 ever

Hold 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 already

In 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 glowing

Deep 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 Nature

Appear again!

How bright the sunbeams!

How smiles the plain!

The flow'rs are bursting

From ev'ry bough, And thousand voices

Each bush yields now.

And joy and gladness

Fill ev'ry breast!