IN ABSENCE.
And shall I then regain thee never?
My beautiful! And art thou flown?
Still in my ears resounds for ever
Thy every word, thy every tone.
As through the air, when morn is springing,
The wanderer peers in vain, to trace
The lark, that o'er him high is singing,
Hid in the azure depth of space;
So, love, through field and forest lonely
My sad eyes roam in quest of thee;
My songs are tuned to thee, thee only;
Oh, come, my own love, back to me!
When the Creator,
The Great, the Eternal,
Sows with indifferent
Hand, from the rolling
Clouds, o'er the earth. His
Lightnings in blessing,
I kiss the nethermost
Hem of His garment,
Lowly incllning
In infantine awe.
For never against
The immortals, a mortal
May measure himself.
Upwards aspiring,
He toucheth the stars with his forehead,
Then do his insecure feet
Stumble and totter and reel;
Then do the cloud and the tempest
Make him their pastime and sport.
Let him with sturdy,
Sinewy limbs,
Tread the enduring
Firm-seated earth;
Aiming no further, than
The oak or the vine to compare!
What doth distinguish
Gods from mankind?
This! Multitudinous
Billows roll ever
Before the immortals,
An infinite stream.
We by a billow
Are lifted—a billow
Engulfs us—we sink,
And are heard of no more.
A little round
Encircles our life,
And races unnumbered
Extend through the ages,
Linked by existence's
Infinite chain.
CUPID AS A LANDSCAPE PAINTER, by JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE Poet's Biography First Line: Once I sate upon a mountain Last Line: No, I trow -- not I! Subject(s): Cupid; Paintings & Painters; Eros | |||
ONCE I sate upon a mountain, Gazing on the mist before me; Like a great grey sheet of canvas, Shrouding all things in its cover, Did it float 'twixt earth and heaven. Then a child appear'd beside me, Saying, 'Friend, it is not seemly, Thus to gaze in idle wonder, With that noble breadth before thee. Hast thou lost thine inspiration? Hath the spirit of the painter Died within thee utterly?' But I turn'd and look'd upon him, Speaking not, but thinking inly, 'Will he read a lesson now!' 'Folded hands,' pursued the infant, 'Never yet have won a triumph. Look! I'll paint for thee a picture Such as none have seen before.' And he pointed with his finger, Which like any rose was ruddy; And upon the breadth of vapour With that finger 'gan to draw. First a glorious sun he painted, Dazzling when I look'd upon it; And he made the inner border Of the clouds around it golden, With the light rays through the masses Pouring down in streams of splendour. Then the tender taper summits Of the trees, all leaf and glitter, Started from the sullen void; And the slopes behind them rising, Graceful-lined in undulation, Glided backwards one by one. Underneath, be sure, was water; And the stream was drawn so truly, That it seem'd to break and shimmer, That it seem'd as if cascading From the lofty rolling wheel. There were flowers beside the brooklet; There were colours on the meadow -- Gold and azure, green and purple, Emerald and bright carbuncle. Clear and pure he work'd the ether As with lapis-lazuli, And the mountains in the distance Stretching blue and far away -- All so well, that I, in rapture At the second revelation, Turn'd to gaze upon the painter, From the picture which he drew. 'Have I not,' he said, 'convinced thee That I know the painter's secret? Yet the greatest is to come.' Then he drew with gentle finger, Still more delicately pointed, In the wood, about its margin, Where the sun within the water Glanced as from the clearest mirror, Such a maiden's form! Perfect shape in perfect raiment, Fair young cheeks 'neath glossy ringlets, And the cheeks were of the colour Of the finger whence they came. 'Child,' I cried, 'what wondrous master In his school of art hath form'd thee, That so deftly, and so truly, From the sketch unto the burnish, Thou hast finish'd such a gem?' As I spoke, a breeze arising Stirr'd the tree-tops in the picture, Ruffled every pool of water, Waved the garments of the maiden; And, what more than all amazed me, Her small feet took motion also, And she came towards the station Where I sat beside the boy. So, when everything was moving, Leaves and water, flowers and raiment, And the footsteps of the darling -- Think you I remain'd as lifeless As the rock on which I rested? No, I trow -- not I! | |||
THE BROTHERS.
Slumber, Sleep — they were two brothers, servants
To the Gods above ;
Kind Prometheus lured them downwards, ever fill'd
with earthly love ;
But what Gods could bear so lightly, press' d too
hard on men beneath;
Slumber did his brother's duty — Sleep was deepen' d
Unto Death.
SOLITUDE.
Grant, 0 ye healing Nymphs, that have your haunts
By rock and stream and lonely forest-glade.
The boon which, in their bosoms' silent depths,
Your votaries crave ! Unto the sad of heart
Give comfort — knowledge unto him that doubts —
Possession to the lover, and its joy.
For unto you the Gods have given, what they
Denied to man — to aid and to console
All those soe'er, who put their trust in you.
GOD, SOUL, AND WORLD.
RHYMED DISTICHS.
[The Distichs, of which these are given as a specimen, are about forty in number.]
How? when? and where?—No answer comes from high;
Thou waitest for the Because, and yet thou askest not Why?
If the whole is ever to gladden thee,
That whole in the smallest thing thou must see.
Water its living strength first shows,
When obstacles its course oppose.
Transparent appears the radiant air,
Though steel and stone in its breast it may bear;
At length they'll meet with fiery power,
And metal and stones on the earth will shower.
Whate'er a living flame may surround,
No longer is shapeless, or earthly bound.
'Tis now invisible, flies from earth,
And hastens on high to the place of its birth.
This truth may be by all believed:
Whom God deceives, is well deceived.
Who trusts in God,
Fears not His rod.
