POEMS

GREETING AND DEPARTURE[4] (1771)

  My heart throbbed high:  to horse, away then! 
    Swift as a hero to the fight! 
  Earth in the arms of evening lay then,
    And o’er the mountains hung the night,
  Now could I see like some huge giant
    The haze-enveloped oak-tree rise,
  While from the thicket stared defiant
    The darkness with its hundred eyes.

  The cloud-throned moon from his dominion
    Peered drowsily through veils of mist. 
  The wind with gently-wafting pinion
    Gave forth a rustling strange and whist. 
  With shapes of fear the night was thronging
    But all the more my courage glowed;
  My soul flamed up in passionate longing
    And hot my heart with rapture flowed.

  I saw thee; melting rays of pleasure
    Streamed o’er me from thy tender glance,
  My heart beat only to thy measure,
    I drew my breath as in a trance. 
  The radiant hue of spring caressing
    Lay rosy on thy upturned face,
  And love—­ye gods, how rich the blessing! 
    I dared not hope to win such grace.

  To part—­alas what grief in this is!—­
    In every look thy heart spoke plain. 
  What ecstasy was in thy kisses! 
    What changing thrill of joy and pain! 
    I went.  One solace yet to capture,
    Thine eyes pursued in sweet distress. 
  But to be loved, what holy rapture! 
    To love, ah gods, what happiness!

[Illustration:  THE HEATHROSE K. Kogler]

THE HEATHROSE[5] (1771)

  Once a boy a Rosebud spied,
    Heathrose fair and tender,
  All array’d in youthful pride,—­
  Quickly to the spot he hied,
    Ravished by her splendor. 
  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
    Heathrose fair and tender! 
  Said the boy, “I’ll now pick thee
    Heathrose fair and tender!”
  Rosebud cried “And I’ll prick thee,
  So thou shalt remember me,
    Ne’er will I surrender!”
  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
    Heathrose fair and tender! 
  But the wanton plucked the rose,
    Heathrose fair and tender;
  Thorns the cruel theft oppose,
  Brief the struggle and vain the woes,
    She must needs surrender. 
  Rosebud, rosebud, rosebud red,
    Heathrose fair and tender!

MAHOMET’S SONG[6] (1773)

[This song was intended to be introduced in a dramatic poem entitled Mahomet, the plan of which was not carried out by Goethe.  He mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali toward the end of the piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly before his death, and when at the height of his glory, of which it is typical.]

  See the rock-born stream! 
  Like the gleam
  Of a star so bright! 
  Kindly spirits
  High above the clouds
  Nourished him while youthful
  In the copse between the cliffs.