The Poems of Goethe Part 44

1816.

----- THE VIOLET.

UPON the mead a violet stood, Retiring, and of modest mood,

In truth, a violet fair.

Then came a youthful shepherdess, And roam'd with sprightly joyousness, And blithely woo'd

With carols sweet the air

"Ah!" thought the violet, "had I been For but the smallest moment e'en

Nature's most beauteous flower, 'Till gather'd by my love, and press'd, When weary, 'gainst her gentle breast, For e'en, for e'en

One quarter of an hour!"

Alas! alas! the maid drew nigh, The violet failed to meet her eye,

She crush'd the violet sweet.

It sank and died, yet murmur'd not: "And if I die, oh, happy lot, For her I die,

And at her very feet!"

1775.*

----- THE FAITHLESS BOY.

THERE was a wooer blithe and gay,

A son of France was he,-- Who in his arms for many a day,

As though his bride were she, A poor young maiden had caress'd, And fondly kiss'd, and fondly press'd,

And then at length deserted.

When this was told the nut-brown maid,

Her senses straightway fled; She laugh'd and wept, and vow'd and pray'd,

And presently was dead.

The hour her soul its farewell took, The boy was sad, with terror shook,

Then sprang upon his charger.

He drove his spurs into his side,

And scour'd the country round; But wheresoever he might ride,

No rest for him was found.

For seven long days and nights he rode, It storm'd, the waters overflow'd,

It bl.u.s.ter'd, lighten'd, thunder'd.

On rode he through the tempest's din,

Till he a building spied; In search of shelter crept he in,

When he his steed had tied.

And as he groped his doubtful way, The ground began to rock and sway,--

He fell a hundred fathoms.

When he recover'd from the blow,

He saw three lights pa.s.s by; He sought in their pursuit to go,

The lights appear'd to fly.

They led his footsteps all astray, Up, down, through many a narrow way

Through ruin'd desert cellars.

When lo! he stood within a hall,

With hollow eyes. and grinning all; They bade him taste the fare.

A hundred guests sat there.

He saw his sweetheart 'midst the throng, Wrapp'd up in grave-clothes white and long;

She turn'd, and----*

1774.

(* This ballad is introduced in Act II. of Claudine of Villa Bella, where it is suddenly broken off, as it is here.) ----- THE ERL-KING.

WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear?

The father it is, with his infant so dear; He holdeth the boy tightly clasp'd in his arm, He holdeth him safely, he keepeth him warm.

"My son, wherefore seek'st thou thy face thus to hide?"

"Look, father, the Erl-King is close by our side!

Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train?"

"My son, 'tis the mist rising over the plain."

"Oh, come, thou dear infant! oh come thou with me!

Full many a game I will play there with thee; On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold, My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold."

"My father, my father, and dost thou not hear The words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?"

"Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives; 'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."

"Wilt go, then, dear infant, wilt go with me there?

My daughters shall tend thee with sisterly care My daughters by night their glad festival keep, They'll dance thee, and rock thee, and sing thee to sleep."