I KNOW not, wherefore, dearest love,
Thou often art so strange and coyWhen 'mongst man's busy haunts we move,
Thy coldness puts to flight my joy.But soon as night and silence round us reign,I know thee by thy kisses sweet again!
1789.* ——- RECIPROCAL.
MY mistress, where sits she?
What is it that charms?The absent she's rocking,
Held fast in her arms.
In pretty cage prison'd
She holds a bird still;Yet lets him fly from her,
Whenever he will.
He pecks at her finger,
And pecks at her lips,And hovers and flutters,
And round her he skips.
Then hasten thou homeward,
In fashion to be;If thou hast the maiden,
She also hath thee.
1816. ——- ROLLICKING HANS.
HALLO there! A glass!
Ha! the draught's truly sweet!If for drink go my shoes,
I shall still have my feet.
A maiden and wine,
With sweet music and song,—I would they were mine,
All life's journey along!
If I depart from this sad sphere,And leave a will behind me here,A suit at law will be preferr'd,But as for thanks,—the deuce a word!So ere I die, I squander all,And that a proper will I call.
Hallo there! A glass!
Ha! the draught's truly sweetIf thou keepest thy shoes,
Thou wilt then spare thy feet.
A maiden and wine,
With sweet music and song,On pavement, are thine,
All life's journey along!——-THE FREEBOOTER,
No door has my house,
No house has my door;And in and out ever
I carry my store.
No grate has my kitchen,
No kitchen my grate;Yet roasts it and boils it
Both early and late.
My bed has no trestles,
My trestles no bed;Yet merrier moments
No mortal e'er led.
My cellar is lofty,
My barn is full deep,From top to the bottom,—
There lie I and sleep.
And soon as I waken,
All moves on its race;My place has no fixture,
My fixture no place.
1827.* ——- JOY AND SORROW.
As a fisher-boy I fared
To the black rock in the sea,And, while false gifts I prepared.
Listen'd and sang merrily,Down descended the decoy,
Soon a fish attack'd the bait;One exultant shout of joy,—
And the fish was captured straight.
Ah! on shore, and to the wood
Past the cliffs, o'er stock and stone,One foot's traces I pursued,
And the maiden was alone.Lips were silent, eyes downcast
As a clasp-knife snaps the bait,With her snare she seized me fast,
And the boy was captured straight.
Heav'n knows who's the happy swain
That she rambles with anew!I must dare the sea again,
Spite of wind and weather too.When the great and little fish
Wail and flounder in my net,Straight returns my eager wish
In her arms to revel yet!
1815. ——- MARCH.
THE snow-flakes fall in showers,
The time is absent still,When all Spring's beauteous flowers,When all Spring's beauteous flowers
Our hearts with joy shall fill.
With lustre false and fleeting
The sun's bright rays are thrown;The swallow's self is cheating:The swallow's self is cheating,
And why? He comes alone!
Can I e'er feel delighted
Alone, though Spring is near?Yet when we are united,Yet when we are united,
The Summer will be here.
1817. ——- APRIL.
TELL me, eyes, what 'tis ye're seeking;
For ye're saying something sweet,
Fit the ravish'd ear to greet,Eloquently, softly speaking.
Yet I see now why ye're roving;
For behind those eyes so bright,
To itself abandon'd quite,Lies a bosom, truthful, loving,—
One that it must fill with pleasure
'Mongst so many, dull and blind,
One true look at length to find,That its worth can rightly treasure.
Whilst I'm lost in studying ever
To explain these cyphers duly,—
To unravel my looks trulyIn return be your endeavour!
1820. ——- MAY.
LIGHT and silv'ry cloudlets hover
In the air, as yet scarce warm;Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over,
Peeps the sun through fragrant balm.Gently rolls and heaves the ocean
As its waves the bank o'erflow.And with ever restless motion
Moves the verdure to and fro,
Mirror'd brightly far below.
What is now the foliage moving?
Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,Sultriness, this fullness loving,
Through the thicket, from the trees.Now the eye at once gleams brightly,
See! the infant band with mirthMoves and dances nimbly, lightly,
As the morning gave it birth,
Flutt'ring two and two o'er earth.
* * * *
1816. ——- JUNE.
SHE behind yon mountain lives,Who my love's sweet guerdon gives.Tell me, mount, how this can be!Very glass thou seem'st to me,And I seem to be close by,For I see her drawing nigh;Now, because I'm absent, sad,Now, because she sees me, glad!
Soon between us rise to sightValleys cool, with bushes light,Streams and meadows; next appear
Mills and wheels, the surest tokenThat a level spot is near,
Plains far-stretching and unbroken.And so onwards, onwards roam,To my garden and my home!
But how comes it then to pass?All this gives no joy, alas!—I was ravish'd by her sight,By her eyes so fair and bright,By her footstep soft and light.How her peerless charms I praised,When from head to foot I gazed!I am here, she's far away,—I am gone, with her to stay.
If on rugged hills she wander,
If she haste the vale along,Pinions seem to flutter yonder,
And the air is fill'd with song;With the glow of youth still playing,
Joyous vigour in each limb,One in silence is delaying,
She alone 'tis blesses him.
Love, thou art too fair, I ween!Fairer I have never seen!From the heart full easilyBlooming flowers are cull'd by thee.If I think: "Oh, were it so,"Bone and marrow seen to glow!If rewarded by her love,Can I greater rapture prove?
And still fairer is the bride,When in me she will confide,When she speaks and lets me knowAll her tale of joy and woe.All her lifetime's historyNow is fully known to me.Who in child or woman e'erSoul and body found so fair?
1815. ——- NEXT YEAR'S SPRING.
THE bed of flowers
Loosens amain,The beauteous snowdrops
Droop o'er the plain.The crocus opens
Its glowing bud,Like emeralds others,
Others, like blood.With saucy gesture
Primroses flare,And roguish violets,
Hidden with care;And whatsoever
There stirs and strives,The Spring's contented,
If works and thrives.
'Mongst all the blossoms
That fairest are,My sweetheart's sweetness
Is sweetest far;Upon me ever
Her glances light,My song they waken,
My words make bright,An ever open
And blooming mind,In sport, unsullied,
In earnest, kind.Though roses and lilies
By Summer are brought,Against my sweetheart
Prevails he nought.
1816. ——- AT MIDNIGHT HOUR.
[Goethe relates that a remarkable situation he was in one bright moonlight night led to the composition of this sweet song, which was "the dearer to him because he could not say whence it came and whither it would."]
AT midnight hour I went, not willingly,
A little, little boy, yon churchyard past,To Father Vicar's house; the stars on high
On all around their beauteous radiance cast,
At midnight hour.
And when, in journeying o'er the path of life,
My love I follow'd, as she onward moved,With stars and northern lights o'er head in strife,
Going and coming, perfect bliss I proved
At midnight hour.
Until at length the full moon, lustre-fraught,
Burst thro' the gloom wherein she was enshrined;And then the willing, active, rapid thought
Around the past, as round the future twined,
At midnight hour.
1818. ——- TO THE RISING FULL MOON.
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,
Gleaming sweetly as a star!That I'm loved, 'tis thou that showest,
Though my loved one may be far.
Upward mount then! clearer, milder,
Robed in splendour far more bright!Though my heart with grief throbs wilder,
Fraught with rapture is the night!
1828. ——- THE BRIDEGROOM.*
(Not in the English sense of the word, but the German, where it has the meaning of betrothed.)
I SLEPT,—'twas midnight,—in my bosom woke,
As though 'twere day, my love-o'erflowing heart;To me it seemed like night, when day first broke;
What is't to me, whate'er it may impart?
She was away; the world's unceasing strife
For her alone I suffer'd through the heatOf sultry day; oh, what refreshing life
At cooling eve!—my guerdon was complete.
The sun now set, and wand'ring hand in hand,
His last and blissful look we greeted then;While spake our eyes, as they each other scann'd:
"From the far east, let's trust, he'll come again!"
At midnight!—the bright stars, in vision blest,
Guide to the threshold where she slumbers calm:Oh be it mine, there too at length to rest,—
Yet howsoe'er this prove, life's full of charm!
1828. ——- SUCH, SUCH IS HE WHO PLEASETH ME.
FLY, dearest, fly! He is not nigh!
He who found thee one fair morn in Spring
In the wood where thou thy flight didst wing.Fly, dearest, fly! He is not nigh!Never rests the foot of evil spy.
Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains
Reach the loved one, borne there by the wind,
In the soft heart open doors they find.Hark! flutes' sweet strains and love's refrains,Hark!—yet blissful love their echo pains.
Erect his head, and firm his tread,
Raven hair around his smooth brow strays,
On his cheeks a Spring eternal plays.Erect his head, and firm his tread,And by grace his ev'ry step is led.
Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd,
And the dark eyes 'neath his eyebrows placed,
With full many a beauteous line are graced.Happy his breast, with pureness bless'd,Soon as seen, thy love must be confess'd.
His mouth is red—its power I dread,
On his lips morn's fragrant incense lies,
Round his lips the cooling Zephyr sighs.His mouth is red—its power I dread,With one glance from him, all sorrow's fled.
His blood is true, his heart bold too,
In his soft arms, strength, protection, dwells
And his face with noble pity swells.His blood is true, his heart bold too,Blest the one whom those dear arms may woo!
1816.. ——- SICILIAN SONG.
YE black and roguish eyes,
If ye command.Each house in ruins lies,
No town can stand.And shall my bosom's chain,—
This plaster wall,─To think one moment, deign,—
Shall ii not fall?
1811. ——- SWISS SONG,
Up in th' mountainI was a-sitting,With the bird thereAs my guest,Blithely singing,Blithely springing,And buildingHis nest.
In the gardenI was a-standing,And the bee thereSaw as well,Buzzing, humming,Going, coming,And buildingHis cell.
O'er the meadowI was a-going,And there saw theButterflies,Sipping, dancing,Flying, glancing,And charmingThe eyes.
And then came myDear Hansel,And I show'd themWith glee,Sipping, quaffing,And he, laughing,Sweet kissesGave me.
1811. ——- FINNISH SONG.
IF the loved one, the well-known one,Should return as he departed,On his lips would ring my kisses,Though the wolf's blood might have dyed them;And a hearty grasp I'd give him,Though his finger-ends were serpents.
Wind! Oh, if thou hadst but reason,Word for word in turns thou'dst carry,E'en though some perchance might perish'Tween two lovers so far distant.
All choice morsels I'd dispense with,Table-flesh of priests neglect too,Sooner than renounce my lover,Whom, in Summer having vanquish'd,I in Winter tamed still longer.
1810. ——- GIPSY SONG.
IN the drizzling mist, with the snow high-pil'd,In the Winter night, in the forest wild,I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl,I heard the screaming note of the owl:
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
I shot, one day, a cat in a ditch—The dear black cat of Anna the witch;Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down,Seven women they were, from out of the town.
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
I knew them all; ay, I knew them straight;First, Anna, then Ursula, Eve, and Kate,And Barbara, Lizzy, and Bet as well;And forming a ring, they began to yell:
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
Then call'd I their names with angry threat:"What wouldst thou, Anna? What wouldst thou, Bet?"At hearing my voice, themselves they shook,And howling and yelling, to flight they took.
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wo wo wo!
Wito hu!
1772. ——- THE DESTRUCTION OF MAGDEBURG.
[For a fine account of the fearful sack of Magdeburg, by Tilly, in the year 1613, see SCHILLER's History of the Thirty Years' War.]
OH, Magdeberg the town!Fair maids thy beauty crown,Thy charms fair maids and matrons crown;Oh, Magdeburg the town!
Where all so blooming stands,Advance fierce Tilly's bands;O'er gardens and o'er well—till'd landsAdvance fierce Tilly's bands.
Now Tilly's at the gate.Our homes who'll liberate?Go, loved one, hasten to the gate,And dare the combat straight!
There is no need as yet,However fierce his threat;Thy rosy cheeks I'll kiss, sweet pet!There is no need as yet.
My longing makes me pale.Oh, what can wealth avail?E'en now thy father may be pale.Thou mak'st my courage fail.
Oh, mother, give me bread!Is then my father dead?Oh, mother, one small crust of bread!Oh, what misfortune dread!
Thy father, dead lies he,The trembling townsmen flee,Adown the street the blood runs free;Oh, whither shall we flee?
The churches ruined lie,The houses burn on high,The roofs they smoke, the flames out fly,Into the street then hie!
No safety there they meet!The soldiers fill the Street,With fire and sword the wreck complete:No safety there they meet!
Down falls the houses' line,Where now is thine or mine?That bundle yonder is not thine,Thou flying maiden mine!
The women sorrow sore.The maidens far, far more.The living are no virgins more;Thus Tilly's troops make war!——-
———What we sing in companySoon from heart to heart will fly.——-
THE Gesellige Lieder, which I have angicisled as above, as several of them cannot be called convivial songs, are separated by Goethe from his other songs, and I have adhered to the same arrangement. The Ergo bibamus is a well-known drinking song in Germany, where it enjoys vast popularity.
[Composed for a merry party that used to meet, in 1802, atGoethe's house.]
FATE now allows us,
'Twixt the departing
And the upstarting,Happy to be;And at the call of
Memory cherish'd,
Future and perish'dMoments we see.
Seasons of anguish,—
Ah, they must ever
Truth from woe sever,Love and joy part;Days still more worthy
Soon will unite us,
Fairer songs light us,Strength'ning the heart.
We, thus united,
Think of, with gladness,
Rapture and sadness,Sorrow now flies.Oh, how mysterious
Fortune's direction!
Old the connection,
New-born the prize!
Thank, for this, Fortune,
Wavering blindly!
Thank all that kindlyFate may bestow!Revel in change's
Impulses clearer,
Love far sincerer,More heartfelt glow!
Over the old one,
Wrinkles collected,
Sad and dejected,Others may view;But, on us gently
Shineth a true one,
And to the new oneWe, too, are new.
As a fond couple
'Midst the dance veering,
First disappearing,Then reappear,So let affection
Guide thro' life's mazy
Pathways so hazyInto the year!
1802. ——- ANNIVERSARY SONG.
[This little song describes the different members of the party just spoken of.]
WHY pacest thou, my neighbour fair,
The garden all alone?If house and land thou seek'st to guard,
I'd thee as mistress own.
My brother sought the cellar-maid,
And suffered her no rest;She gave him a refreshing draught,
A kiss, too, she impress'd.
My cousin is a prudent wight,
The cook's by him ador'd;He turns the spit round ceaselessly,
To gain love's sweet reward.
We six together then began
A banquet to consume,When lo! a fourth pair singing came,
And danced into the room.
Welcome were they,—and welcome too
Was a fifth jovial pair.Brimful of news, and stored with tales
And jests both new and rare.
For riddles, spirit, raillery,
And wit, a place remain'd;A sixth pair then our circle join'd,
And so that prize was gain'd.
And yet to make us truly blest,
One miss'd we, and full sore;A true and tender couple came,—
We needed them no more.
The social banquet now goes on,
Unchequer'd by alloy;The sacred double-numbers then
Let us at once enjoy!
1802. ——- THE SPRING ORACLE.
OH prophetic bird so bright,Blossom-songster, cuckoo bight!In the fairest time of year,Dearest bird, oh! deign to hearWhat a youthful pair would pray,Do thou call, if hope they may:Thy cuck-oo, thy cuck-oo.Ever more cuck-oo, cuck-oo!
Hearest thou? A loving pairFain would to the altar fare;Yes! a pair in happy youth,Full of virtue, full of truth.Is the hour not fix'd by fate?Say, how long must they still wait?Hark! cuck-oo! hark! cuck-oo!Silent yet! for shame, cuck-oo!
'Tis not our fault, certainly!Only two years patient be!But if we ourselves please here,Will pa-pa-papas appear?Know that thou'lt more kindness do us,More thou'lt prophesy unto us.One! cuck-oo! Two! cuck-oo!Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo!
If we've calculated clearly,We have half a dozen nearly.If good promises we'll give,Wilt thou say how long we'II live?Truly, we'll confess to thee,We'd prolong it willingly.Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!
Life is one continued feast—(If we keep no score, at least).If now we together dwell,Will true love remain as well?For if that should e'er decay,Happiness would pass away.Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo,Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!
1803.*(Gracefully in infinitum.)——-THE HAPPY COUPLE.
AFTER these vernal rains
That we so warmly sought,Dear wife, see how our plains
With blessings sweet are fraught!We cast our distant gaze
Far in the misty blue;Here gentle love still strays,
Here dwells still rapture true.
Thou seest whither go
Yon pair of pigeons white,Where swelling violets blow
Round sunny foliage bright.'Twas there we gather'd first
A nosegay as we roved;There into flame first burst
The passion that we proved.
Yet when, with plighted troth,
The priest beheld us fareHome from the altar both,
With many a youthful pair,—Then other moons had birth,
And many a beauteous sun,Then we had gain'd the earth
Whereon life's race to run.
A hundred thousand fold
The mighty bond was seal'd;In woods, on mountains cold,
In bushes, in the field,Within the wall, in caves,
And on the craggy height,And love, e'en o'er the waves,
Bore in his tube the light.
Contented we remain'd,
We deem'd ourselves a pair;'Twas otherwise ordain'd,
For, lo! a third was there;A fourth, fifth, sixth appear'd,
And sat around our board;And now the plants we've rear'd
High o'er our heads have soar'd!
How fair and pleasant looks,
On yonder beauteous spot,Embraced by poplar-brooks,
The newly-finish'd cot!Who is it there that sits
In that glad home above?Is't not our darling Fritz
With his own darling love?
Beside yon precipice,
Whence pent-up waters steal,And leaving the abyss,
Fall foaming through the wheel,Though people often tell
Of millers' wives so fair,Yet none can e'er excel
Our dearest daughter there!
Yet where the thick-set green
Stands round yon church and sad,Where the old fir-tree's seen
Alone tow'rd heaven to nod,—'Tis there the ashes lie
Of our untimely dead;From earth our gaze on high
By their blest memory's led.
See how yon hill is bright
With billowy-waving arms!The force returns, whose might
Has vanquished war's alarms.Who proudly hastens here
With wreath-encircled brow?'Tis like our child so dear
Thus Charles comes homeward now.
That dearest honour'd guest
Is welcom'd by the bride;She makes the true one blest,
At the glad festal tide.And ev'ry one makes haste
To join the dance with glee;While thou with wreaths hast graced
The youngest children three.
To sound of flute and horn
The time appears renew'd,When we, in love's young morn,
In the glad dance upstood;And perfect bliss I know
Ere the year's course is run,For to the font we go
With grandson and with son!
1803.* ——- SONG OF FELLOWSHIP.
[Written and sung in honour of the birthday of the Pastor Ewald at the time of Goethe's happy connection with Lily.]
IN ev'ry hour of joy
That love and wine prolong,The moments we'll employ
To carol forth this song!We're gathered in His name,
Whose power hath brought us here;He kindled first our flame,
He bids it burn more clear.
Then gladly glow to-night,
And let our hearts combine!Up! quaff with fresh delight
This glass of sparkling wine!Up! hail the joyous hour,
And let your kiss be true;With each new bond of power
The old becomes the new!
Who in our circle lives,
And is not happy there?True liberty it gives,
And brother's love so fair.Thus heart and heart through life
With mutual love are fill'd;And by no causeless strife
Our union e'er is chill'd.
Our hopes a God has crown'd
With life-discernment free,And all we view around,
Renews our ecstasy.Ne'er by caprice oppress'd,
Our bliss is ne'er destroy'd;More freely throbs our breast,
By fancies ne'er alloy'd.
Where'er our foot we set,
The more life's path extends,And brighter, brighter yet
Our gaze on high ascends.We know no grief or pain,
Though all things fall and rise;Long may we thus remain!
Eternal be our ties!
1775. ——- CONSTANCY IN CHANGE.
COULD this early bliss but rest
Constant for one single hour!But e'en now the humid West
Scatters many a vernal shower.Should the verdure give me joy?
'Tis to it I owe the shade;Soon will storms its bloom destroy,
Soon will Autumn bid it fade.
Eagerly thy portion seize,
If thou wouldst possess the fruit!Fast begin to ripen these,
And the rest already shoot.With each heavy storm of rain
Change comes o'er thy valley fair;Once, alas! but not again
Can the same stream hold thee e'er.
And thyself, what erst at least
Firm as rocks appear'd to rise,Walls and palaces thou seest
But with ever-changing eyes.Fled for ever now the lip
That with kisses used to glow,And the foot, that used to skip
O'er the mountain, like the roe.
And the hand, so true and warm,
Ever raised in charity,And the cunning-fashion'd form,—
All are now changed utterly.And what used to bear thy name,
When upon yon spot it stood,Like a rolling billow came,
Hast'ning on to join the flood.
Be then the beginning found
With the end in unison,Swifter than the forms around
Are themselves now fleeting on!Thank the merit in thy breast,
Thank the mould within thy heart,That the Muses' favour blestNe'er will perish, ne'er depart.
1803.* ——- TABLE SONG.
[Composed for the merry party already mentioned, on the occasion of the departure for France of the hereditary prince, who was one of the number, and who is especially alluded to in the 3rd verse.]
O'ER me—how I cannot say,—
Heav'nly rapture's growing.Will it help to guide my way
To yon stars all-glowing?Yet that here I'd sooner be,
To assert I'm able,Where, with wine and harmony,
I may thump the table.
Wonder not, my dearest friends,
What 'tis gives me pleasure;For of all that earth e'er lends,
'Tis the sweetest treasure.Therefore solemnly I swear,
With no reservation,That maliciously I'll ne'er
Leave my present station.
Now that here we're gather'd round,
Chasing cares and slumbers,Let, methought, the goblet sound
To the bard's glad numbers!Many a hundred mile away,
Go those we love dearly;Therefore let us here to-day
Make the glass ring clearly!
Here's His health, through Whom we live!
I that faith inherit.To our king the next toast give,
Honour is his merit,'Gainst each in— and outward foe
He's our rock and tower.Of his maintenance thinks he though,
More that grows his power.
Next to her good health I drink,
Who has stirr'd my passion;Of his mistress let each think,
Think in knightly fashion.If the beauteous maid but see
Whom 'tis I now call so,Let her smiling nod to me:
"Here's my love's health also!"
To those friends,—the two or three,—
Be our next toast given,In whose presence revel we,
In the silent even,—Who the gloomy mist so cold
Scatter gently, lightly;To those friends, then, new or old,
Let the toast ring brightly.
Broader now the stream rolls on,
With its waves more swelling,While in higher, nobler tone,
Comrades, we are dwelling,—We who with collected might,
Bravely cling together,Both in fortune's sunshine bright,
And in stormy weather.
Just as we are gather'd thus,
Others are collected;On them, therefore, as on us,
Be Fate's smile directed!From the springhead to the sea,
Many a mill's revolving,And the world's prosperity
Is the task I'm solving.
1802. ——- WONT AND DONE.
I HAVE loved; for the first time with passion I rave!I then was the servant, but now am the slave;
I then was the servant of all:By this creature so charming I now am fast bound,To love and love's guerdon she turns all around,
And her my sole mistress I call.
l've had faith; for the first time my faith is now strong! And though matters go strangely, though matters go wrong,
To the ranks of the faithful I'm true:Though ofttimes 'twas dark and though ofttimes 'twas drear,In the pressure of need, and when danger was near,
Yet the dawning of light I now view.
I have eaten; but ne'er have thus relish'd my food!For when glad are the senses, and joyous the blood,
At table all else is effacedAs for youth, it but swallows, then whistles an air;As for me, to a jovial resort I'd repair,
Where to eat, and enjoy what I taste.
I have drunk; but have never thus relish'd the bowl!For wine makes us lords, and enlivens the soul,
And loosens the trembling slave's tongue.Let's not seek to spare then the heart-stirring drink,For though in the barrel the old wine may sink,
In its place will fast mellow the young.
I have danced, and to dancing am pledged by a vow!Though no caper or waltz may be raved about now,
In a dance that's becoming, whirl round.And he who a nosegay of flowers has dress'd,And cares not for one any more than the rest,
With a garland of mirth is aye crown'd.
Then once more be merry, and banish all woes!For he who but gathers the blossoming rose.
By its thorns will be tickled alone.To-day still, as yesterday, glimmers the star;Take care from all heads that hang down to keep far,
And make but the future thine own.
1813. ——- GENERAL CONFESSION.
In this noble ring to-day
Let my warning shame ye!Listen to my solemn voice,—
Seldom does it name ye.Many a thing have ye intended,
Many a thing have badly ended,And now I must blame ye.
At some moment in our lives
We must all repent us!So confess, with pious trust,
All your sins momentous!Error's crooked pathways shunning.
Let us, on the straight road running,Honestly content us!
Yes! we've oft, when waking, dream'd,
Let's confess it rightly;Left undrain'd the brimming cup,
When it sparkled brightly;Many a shepherd's-hour's soft blisses,
Many a dear mouth's flying kissesWe've neglected lightly.
Mute and silent have we sat,
Whilst the blockheads prated,And above e'en song divine
Have their babblings rated;To account we've even call'd us
For the moments that enthrall'd us,With enjoyment freighted.
If thou'lt absolution grant
To thy true ones ever,We, to execute thy will,
Ceaseless will endeavour,From half-measures strive to wean us,
Wholly, fairly, well demean us,Resting, flagging never.
At all blockheads we'll at once
Let our laugh ring clearly,And the pearly-foaming wine
Never sip at merely.Ne'er with eye alone give kisses,
But with boldness suck in blissesFrom those lips loved dearly.
1803.* ——- COPTIC SONG.
LEAVE we the pedants to quarrel and strive,
Rigid and cautious the teachers to be!All of the wisest men e'er seen alive
Smile, nod, and join in the chorus with me:"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,—
Children of wisdom,—remember the word!"
Merlin the old, from his glittering grave,When I, a stripling, once spoke to him,—gave
Just the same answer as that I've preferr'd;"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,—
Children of wisdom,—remember the word!"
And on the Indian breeze as it booms,And in the depths of Egyptian tombs,
Only the same holy saying I've heard:"Vain 'tis to wait till the dolt grows less silly!Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,—
Children of wisdom,—remember the word!"
1789.* ——- ANOTHER.
Go! obedient to my call,
Turn to profit thy young days,
Wiser make betimes thy breast
In Fate's balance as it sways,
Seldom is the cock at rest;Thou must either mount, or fall,
Thou must either rule and win,
Or submissively give in,Triumph, or else yield to clamour:Be the anvil or the hammer.
1789. ——- VANITAS! VANITATUM VANITAS!
MY trust in nothing now is placed,
Hurrah!So in the world true joy I taste,
Hurrah!Then he who would be a comrade of mineMust rattle his glass, and in chorus combine,Over these dregs of wine.
I placed my trust in gold and wealth,
Hurrah!But then I lost all joy and health,
Lack-a-day!Both here and there the money roll'd,And when I had it here, behold,From there had fled the gold!
I placed my trust in women next,
Hurrah!But there in truth was sorely vex'd,
Lack-a-day!The False another portion sought,The True with tediousness were fraught,The Best could not be bought.
My trust in travels then I placed,
Hurrah!And left my native land in haste.
Lack-a-day!But not a single thing seem'd good,The beds were bad, and strange the food,And I not understood.
I placed my trust in rank and fame,
Hurrah!Another put me straight to shame,
Lack-a-day!And as I had been prominent,All scowl'd upon me as I went,I found not one content.
I placed my trust in war and fight,
Hurrah!We gain'd full many a triumph bright,
Hurrah!Into the foeman's land we cross'd,We put our friends to equal cost,And there a leg I lost.
My trust is placed in nothing now,
Hurrah!At my command the world must bow,
Hurrah!And as we've ended feast and strain,The cup we'll to the bottom drain;No dregs must there remain!
1806. ——- FORTUNE OF WAR.
NOUGHT more accursed in war I know
Than getting off scot-free;Inured to danger, on we go
In constant victory;We first unpack, then pack again,
With only this reward,That when we're marching, we complain,
And when in camp, are bor'd.
The time for billeting comes next,—
The peasant curses it;Each nobleman is sorely vex'd,
'Tis hated by the cit.Be civil, bad though be thy food,
The clowns politely treat;If to our hosts we're ever rude,
Jail-bread we're forced to eat.
And when the cannons growl around,
And small arms rattle clear,And trumpet, trot, and drum resound,
We merry all appear;And as it in the fight may chance,
We yield, then charge amain,And now retire, and now advance,
And yet a cross ne'er gain.
At length there comes a musket-ball,
And hits the leg, please Heaven;And then our troubles vanish all,
For to the town we're driven,(Well cover'd by the victor's force,)
Where we in wrath first came,—The women, frightened then, of course,
Are loving now and tame.
Cellar and heart are open'd wide,
The cook's allow'd no rest;While beds with softest down supplied
Are by our members press'd.The nimble lads upon us wait,
No sleep the hostess takesHer shift is torn in pieces straight,—
What wondrous lint it makes!
If one has tended carefully
The hero's wounded limb,Her neighbour cannot rest, for she
Has also tended him.A third arrives in equal haste,
At length they all are there,And in the middle he is placed
Of the whole band so fair!
On good authority the king
Hears how we love the fight,And bids them cross and ribbon bring,
Our coat and breast to dight.Say if a better fate can e'er
A son of Mars pursue!'Midst tears at length we go from there,
Beloved and honour'd too.
1814. ——- OPEN TABLE.
MANY a guest I'd see to-day,
Met to taste my dishes!Food in plenty is prepar'd,
Birds, and game, and fishes.Invitations all have had,
All proposed attending.Johnny, go and look around!
Are they hither wending?
Pretty girls I hope to see,
Dear and guileless misses,Ignorant how sweet it is
Giving tender kisses.Invitations all have had,
All proposed attending.Johnny, go and look around!
Are they hither wending?
Women also I expect,
Loving tow'rd their spouses,Whose rude grumbling in their breasts
Greater love but rouses.Invitations they've had too,
All proposed attending!Johnny, go and look around!
Are they hither wending?
I've too ask'd young gentlemen,
Who are far from haughty,And whose purses are well-stock'd,
Well-behaved, not haughty.These especially I ask'd,
All proposed attending.Johnny, go and look around!
Are they hither wending?
Men I summon'd with respect,
Who their own wives treasure;Who in ogling other Fair
Never take a pleasure.To my greetings they replied,
All proposed attending.Johnny, go and look around!
Are they hither wending?
Then to make our joy complete,
Poets I invited,Who love other's songs far more
Than what they've indited.All acceded to my wish,
All proposed attending.Johnny, go and look around!
Are they hither wending?
Not a single one appears,
None seem this way posting.All the soup boils fast away,
Joints are over-roasting.Ah, I fear that we have been
Rather too unbending!Johnny, tell me what you think!
None are hither wending.
Johnny, run and quickly bring
Other guests to me now!Each arriving as he is—
That's the plan, I see now.In the town at once 'tis known,
Every one's commending.Johnny, open all the doors:
All are hither wending!
1815.* ——- THE RECKONING.
LET no cares now hover o'er us
Let the wine unsparing run!Wilt thou swell our merry chorus?
Hast thou all thy duty done?
Two young folks—the thing is curious—
Loved each other; yesterdayBoth quite mild, to-day quite furious,
Next day, quite the deuce to pay!If her neck she there was stooping,
He must here needs pull his hair.I revived their spirits drooping,
And they're now a happy pair.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.
Why, young orphan, all this wailing?
"Would to heaven that I were dead!For my guardian's craft prevailing
Soon will make me beg my bread."Knowing well the rascal genus,
Into court I dragg'd the knave;Fair the judges were between us,
And the maiden's wealth did save.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.
To a little fellow, quiet,
Unpretending and subdued,Has a big clown, running riot,
Been to-day extremely rude.I bethought me of my duty,
And my courage swell'd apace,So I spoil'd the rascal's beauty,
Slashing him across the face.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.
Brief must be my explanation,
For I really have done nought.Free from trouble and vexation,
I a landlord's business bought.There I've done, with all due ardour,
All that duty order'd me;Each one ask'd me for the larder,
And there was no scarcity.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.
Each should thus make proclamation
Of what he did well to-day!That's the match whose conflagration
Should inflame our tuneful lay.Let it be our precept ever
To admit no waverer here!For to act the good endeavour,
None but rascals meek appear.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!For all sighs and groans of anguish
We have now in rapture drown'd.
Let each merry minstrel enter,
He's right welcome to our hall!'Tis but with the self─tormentor
That we are not liberal;
For we fear that his caprices,
That his eye-brows dark and sad,That his grief that never ceases
Hide an empty heart, or bad.
No one now for wine shall languish!
Here no minstrel shall be found,Who all sighs and groans of anguish,
Has not first in rapture drown'd!