wanderer quakes.
I hear thee, when yon billows rise on high,
With murmur deep.
To tread the silent grove oft wander I,
When all's asleep.
I'm near thee, though thou far away mayst be—
Thou, too, art near!
The sun then sets, the stars soon lighten me,
Would thou wert here!
THE SHEPHERD'S LAMENT17 (1802)
Up yonder on the mountain,
I dwelt for days together;
Looked down into the valley,
This pleasant summer weather.
My sheep go feeding onward,
My dog sits watching by;
I've wandered to the valley,
And yet I know not why.
The meadow, it is pretty,
With flowers so fair to see;
I gather them, but no one
Will take the flowers from me.
The good tree gives me shadow,
And shelter from the rain;
But yonder door is silent,
It will not ope again!
I see the rainbow bending,
Above her old abode,
But she is there no longer;
They've taken my love abroad.
They took her o'er the mountains,
They took her o'er the sea;
Move on, move on, my bonny sheep,
There is no rest for me!
NATURE AND ART18 (1802)
Nature and art asunder seem to fly,
Yet sooner than we think find common ground;
In place of strife, harmonious songs resound,
And both, at one, to my abode draw nigh.
In sooth but one endeavor I descry:
Then only, when in ordered moments' round
Wisdom and toil our lives to Art have bound,
Dare we rejoice in Nature's liberty.
Thus is achievement fashioned everywhere:
Not by ungovernable, hasty zeal
Shalt thou the height of perfect form attain.
Husband thy strength, if great emprize thou dare;
In self-restraint thy masterhood reveal,
And under law thy perfect freedom gain.
COMFORT IN TEARS19 (1803)
How is it that thou art so sad
When others are so gay?
Thou hast been weeping—nay, thou hast!
Thine eyes the truth betray.
"And if I may not choose but weep
Is not my grief mine own?
No heart was heavier yet for tears—
O leave me, friend, alone!"
Come join this once the merry band,
They call aloud for thee,
And mourn no more for what is lost,
But let the past go free.
"O, little know ye in your mirth,
What wrings my heart so deep!
I have not lost the idol yet,
For which I sigh and weep."
Then rouse thee and take heart! thy blood
Is young and full of fire;
Youth should have hope and might to win,
And wear its best desire.
"O, never may I hope to gain
What dwells from me so far;
It stands as high, it looks as bright,
As yonder burning star."
Why, who would seek to woo the stars
Down from their glorious sphere?
Enough it is to worship them,
When nights are calm and clear.
"Oh, I look up and worship too—
My star it shines by day—
Then let me weep the livelong night
The while it is away."
EPILOGUE TO SCHILLER'S "SONG OF THE BELL"20
[This fine piece, written originally in 1805, on Schiller's death, was altered and recast by Goethe in 1815, on the occasion of the performance on the stage of the Song of the Bell. Hence the allusion in the last verse.]
To this city joy reveal it!
Peace as its first signal peal it!
(Song of the Bell—concluding lines).
And so it proved! The nation felt, ere long,
That peaceful signal, and, with blessings fraught,
A new-born joy appeared; in gladsome song
To hail the youthful princely pair we sought;
While in the living, ever-swelling throng
Mingled the crowds from every region brought,
And on the stage, in festal pomp arrayed,
The HOMAGE OF THE ARTS21 we saw displayed.
When, lo! a fearful midnight sound I hear,
That with a dull and mournful echo rings.
And can it be that of our friend so dear
It tells, to whom each wish so fondly clings?
Shall death o'ercome a life that all revere?
How such a loss to all confusion brings!
How such a parting we must ever rue!
The world is weeping—shall not we weep, too?
He was our own! How social, yet how great
Seemed in the light of day his noble mind!
How was his nature, pleasing yet sedate,
Now