With A Painted Ribbon / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

LITTLE leaves and flow'rets too,

Scatter we with gentle hand,

Kind young spring-gods to the view,

Sporting on an airy band.

Zephyr, bear it on the wing,

Twine it round my loved one's dress;

To her glass then let her spring,

With A Golden Necklace / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THIS page a chain to bring thee burns,

That, train'd to suppleness of old,

On thy fair neck to nestle, yearns,

In many a hundred little fold.

To please the silly thing consent!

'Tis harmless, and from boldness free;

By day a trifling ornament,

Who'll Buy Gods of Love? / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

OF all the beauteous wares

Exposed for sale at fairs,

None will give more delight

Than those that to your sight

From distant lands we bring.

Oh, hark to what we sing!

These beauteous birds behold,

They're brought here to be sold.

Welcome and Farewell / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

[Another of the love-songs addressed to Frederica.]

QUICK throbb'd my heart: to norse! haste, haste,

And lo! 'twas done with speed of light;

The evening soon the world embraced,

And o'er the mountains hung the night.

Soon stood, in robe of mist, the oak,

A tow'ring giant in his size,

Where darkness through the thicket broke,

And glared with hundred gloomy eyes.

From out a hill of clouds the moon

With mournful gaze began to peer:

The winds their soft wings flutter'd soon,

And murmur'd in mine awe-struck ear;

The night a thousand monsters made,

Yet fresh and joyous was my mind;

What fire within my veins then play'd!

What glow was in my bosom shrin'd!

I saw thee, and with tender pride

Felt thy sweet gaze pour joy on me;

While all my heart was at thy side.

And every breath I breath'd for thee.

The roseate hues that spring supplies

Were playing round thy features fair,

And love for me--ye Deities!

I hoped it, I deserved it ne'er!

True Enjoyment / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

VAINLY wouldst thou, to gain a heart,

Heap up a maiden's lap with gold;

The joys of love thou must impart,

Wouldst thou e'er see those joys unfold.

The voices of the throng gold buys,

No single heart 'twill win for thee;

Wouldst thou a maiden make thy prize,

Thyself alone the bribe must be.

To the Rising Full Moon / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Dornburg, 25th August, 1828.

WILT thou suddenly enshroud thee,

Who this moment wert so nigh?

Heavy rising masses cloud thee,

Thou art hidden from mine eye.

Yet my sadness thou well knowest,

To the Moon / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

BUSH and vale thou fill'st again

With thy misty ray,

And my spirit's heavy chain

Castest far away.

Thou dost o'er my fields extend

Thy sweet soothing eye,

Watching like a gentle friend,

O'er my destiny.

To the Distant One / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

AND have I lost thee evermore?

Hast thou, oh fair one, from me flown?

Still in mine ear sounds, as of yore,

Thine ev'ry word, thine ev'ry tone.

As when at morn the wand'rer's eye

Attempts to pierce the air in vain,

When, hidden in the azure sky,

To The Chosen One / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

[This sweet song is doubtless one of those addressed to

Frederica.]

HAND in hand! and lip to lip!

Oh, be faithful, maiden dear!

Fare thee well! thy lover's ship

Past full many a rock must steers

But should he the haven see,

When the storm has ceased to break,

And be happy, reft of thee,--

To Mignon / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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.

To Luna / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

SISTER of the first-born light,

Type of sorrowing gentleness!

Quivering mists in silv'ry dress

Float around thy features bright;

When thy gentle foot is heard,

From the day-closed caverns then

Wake the mournful ghosts of men,

I, too, wake, and each night-bird.

To Lina / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

SHOULD these songs, love, as they fleet,

Chance again to reach thy hand,

At the piano take thy seat,

Where thy friend was wont to stand!

Sweep with finger bold the string,

Then the book one moment see:

But read not! do nought but sing!

To Belinda / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

[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?

To A Golden Heart / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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?

The Wedding Night / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

WITHIN the chamber, far away

From the glad feast, sits Love in dread

Lest guests disturb, in wanton play,

The silence of the bridal bed.

His torch's pale flame serves to gild

The scene with mystic sacred glow;

The room with incense-clouds is fil'd,

That ye may perfect rapture know.

The Spirit's Salute / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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 knightly marrow fill'd!

This cup, how bright it smil'd!

The Shepherd's Lament / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

ON yonder lofty mountain

A thousand times I stand,

And on my staff reclining,

Look down on the smiling land.

My grazing flocks then I follow,

My dog protecting them well;

I find myself in the valley,

But how, I scarcely can tell.

The New Amadis / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

IN my boyhood's days so drear

I was kept confined;

There I sat for many a year,

All alone I pined,

As within the womb.

Yet thou drov'st away my gloom,

Golden phantasy!

I became a hero true,

The Muse's Son / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

[Goethe quotes the beginning of this song in his Autobiography,

as expressing the manner in which his poetical effusions used to

pour out from him.]

THROUGH field and wood to stray,

And pipe my tuneful lay,--

'Tis thus my days are pass'd;

And all keep tune with me,

And move in harmony,

And so on, to the last.

The Mountain Castle / Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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.