When man had ceased to utter his lament,<\/p>\n
A god then let me tell my tale of sorrow.<\/p>\n
WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now
\nIn the still-closed blossoms of this day?
\nBoth heaven and hell thrown open seest thou;
\nWhat wav’ring thoughts within the bosom play
\nNo longer doubt! Descending from the sky,
\nShe lifts thee in her arms to realms on high.<\/p>\n
And thus thou into Paradise wert brought,<\/p>\n
As worthy of a pure and endless life;
\nNothing was left, no wish, no hope, no thought,<\/p>\n
Here was the boundary of thine inmost strife:
\nAnd seeing one so fair, so glorified,
\nThe fount of yearning tears was straightway dried.<\/p>\n
No motion stirr’d the day’s revolving wheel,<\/p>\n
In their own front the minutes seem’d to go;
\nThe evening kiss, a true and binding seal,<\/p>\n
Ne’er changing till the morrow’s sunlight glow.
\nThe hours resembled sisters as they went.
\nYet each one from another different.<\/p>\n
The last hour’s kiss, so sadly sweet, effac’d<\/p>\n
A beauteous network of entwining love.
\nNow on the threshold pause the feet, now haste.<\/p>\n
As though a flaming cherub bade them move;
\nThe unwilling eye the dark road wanders o’er,
\nBackward it looks, but closed it sees the door.<\/p>\n
And now within itself is closed this breast,<\/p>\n
As though it ne’er were open, and as though,
\nVying with ev’ry star, no moments blest<\/p>\n
Had, in its presence, felt a kindling glow;
\nSadness, reproach, repentance, weight of care,
\nHang heavy on it in the sultry air.<\/p>\n
Is not the world still left? The rocky steeps,<\/p>\n
Are they with holy shades no longer crown’d?
\nGrows not the harvest ripe? No longer creeps<\/p>\n
The espalier by the stream,\u2014the copse around?
\nDoth not the wondrous arch of heaven still rise,
\nNow rich in shape, now shapeless to the eyes?<\/p>\n
As, seraph-like, from out the dark clouds’ chorus,<\/p>\n
With softness woven, graceful, light, and fair,
\nResembling Her, in the blue aether o’er us,<\/p>\n
A slender figure hovers in the air,\u2014
\nThus didst thou see her joyously advance,
\nThe fairest of the fairest in the dance.<\/p>\n
Yet but a moment dost thou boldly dare<\/p>\n
To clasp an airy form instead of hers;
\nBack to thine heart! thou’lt find it better there,<\/p>\n
For there in changeful guise her image stirs
\nWhat erst was one, to many turneth fast,
\nIn thousand forms, each dearer than the last.<\/p>\n
As at the door, on meeting lingerd she,<\/p>\n
And step by step my faithful ardour bless’d,
\nFor the last kiss herself entreated me,<\/p>\n
And on my lips the last last kiss impress’d,\u2014
\nThus clearly traced, the lov’d one’s form we view,
\nWith flames engraven on a heart so true,\u2014<\/p>\n
A heart that, firm as some embattled tower,<\/p>\n
Itself for her, her in itself reveres,
\nFor her rejoices in its lasting power,<\/p>\n
Conscious alone, when she herself appears;
\nFeels itself freer in so sweet a thrall,
\nAnd only beats to give her thanks in all.<\/p>\n
The power of loving, and all yearning sighs<\/p>\n
For love responsive were effaced and drown’d;
\nWhile longing hope for joyous enterprise<\/p>\n
Was form’d, and rapid action straightway found;
\nIf love can e’er a loving one inspire,
\nMost lovingly it gave me now its fire;<\/p>\n
And ’twas through her!\u2014an inward sorrow lay<\/p>\n
On soul and body, heavily oppress’d;
\nTo mournful phantoms was my sight a prey,<\/p>\n
In the drear void of a sad tortured breast;
\nNow on the well-known threshold Hope hath smil’d,
\nHerself appeareth in the sunlight mild.<\/p>\n
Unto the peace of God, which, as we read,<\/p>\n
Blesseth us more than reason e’er bath done,
\nLove’s happy peace would I compare indeed,<\/p>\n
When in the presence of the dearest one.
\nThere rests the heart, and there that sweetest thought,
\nThe thought of being hers, is check’d by nought.<\/p>\n
In the pure bosom doth a yearning float,<\/p>\n
Unto a holier, purer, unknown Being
\nIts grateful aspiration to devote,<\/p>\n
The Ever-Nameless then unriddled seeing;
\nWe call it: piety!\u2014such blest delight
\nI feel a share in, when before her sight.<\/p>\n
Before her sight, as ‘neath the sun’s hot ray,<\/p>\n
Before her breath, as ‘neath the spring’s soft wind,
\nIn its deep wintry cavern melts away<\/p>\n
Self-love, so long in icy chains confin’d;
\nNo selfishness and no self-will are nigh,
\nFor at her advent they were forced to fly.<\/p>\n
It seems as though she said: “As hours pass by<\/p>\n
They spread before us life with kindly plan;
\nSmall knowledge did the yesterday supply,<\/p>\n
To know the morrow is conceal’d from man;
\nAnd if the thought of evening made me start,
\nThe sun at setting gladden’d straight my heart.<\/p>\n
“Act, then, as I, and look, with joyous mind,<\/p>\n
The moment in the face; nor linger thou!
\nMeet it with speed, so fraught with life, so kind<\/p>\n
In action, and in love so radiant now;
\nLet all things be where thou art, childlike ever,
\nThus thoult be all, thus, thou’lt be vanquish’d never.”<\/p>\n
Thou speakest well, methought, for as thy guide<\/p>\n
The moment’s favour did a god assign,
\nAnd each one feels himself when by thy side,<\/p>\n
Fate’s fav’rite in a moment so divine;
\nI tremble at thy look that bids me go,
\nWhy should I care such wisdom vast to know?<\/p>\n
Now am I far! And what would best befit<\/p>\n
The present minute? I could scarcely tell;
\nFull many a rich possession offers it,<\/p>\n
These but offend, and I would fain repel.
\nYearnings unquenchable still drive me on,
\nAll counsel, save unbounded tears, is gone.<\/p>\n
Flow on, flow on in never-ceasing course,<\/p>\n
Yet may ye never quench my inward fire!
\nWithin my bosom heaves a mighty force,<\/p>\n
Where death and life contend in combat dire.
\nMedicines may serve the body’s pangs to still;
\nNought but the spirit fails in strength of will,\u2014<\/p>\n
Fails in conception; wherefore fails it so?<\/p>\n
A thousand times her image it portrays;
\nEnchanting now, and now compell’d to go,<\/p>\n
Now indistinct, now clothed in purest rays!
\nHow could the smallest comfort here be flowing?
\nThe ebb and flood, the coming and the going!<\/p>\n
* * * * * *<\/p>\n
Leave me here now, my life’s companions true!<\/p>\n
Leave me alone on rock, in moor and heath;
\nBut courage! open lies the world to you,<\/p>\n
The glorious heavens above, the earth beneath;
\nObserve, investigate, with searching eyes,
\nAnd nature will disclose her mysteries.<\/p>\n
To me is all, I to myself am lost,<\/p>\n
Who the immortals’ fav’rite erst was thought;
\nThey, tempting, sent Pandoras to my cost,<\/p>\n
So rich in wealth, with danger far more fraught;
\nThey urged me to those lips, with rapture crown’d,
\nDeserted me, and hurl’d me to the ground.<\/p>\n
1823.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. When man had ceased to utter his lament, A god then let me tell my tale of sorrow. WHAT hope of once more meeting is there now In the still-closed blossoms of this day? Both heaven and hell thrown open seest thou; What wav’ring thoughts … Continue reading