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Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
Through thee I'm hither flying,

Thou wilt not list before
In slumbers thou art lying:

Sleep on! what wouldst thou more?
1803.*

-----
LONGING.

WHAT pulls at my heart so?
What tells me to roam?

What drags me and lures me
From chamber and home?

How round the cliffs gather
The clouds high in air!

I fain would go thither,
I fain would be there!

The sociable flight
Of the ravens comes back;

I mingleamongst them,
And follow their track.

Round wall and round mountain
Together we fly;

She tarries below there,
I after her spy.

Then onward she wanders,
My flight I wing soon

To the wood fill'd with bushes,
A bird of sweet tune.

She tarries and hearkens,
And smiling, thinks she:

"How sweetly he's singing!
He's singing to me!"

The heights are illum'd
By the fast setting sun;

The pensive fair maiden
Looks thoughtfully on;

She roams by the streamlet,
O'er meadows she goes,

And darker and darker
The pathway fast grows.

I rise on a sudden,
A glimmering star;

"What glitters above me,
So near and so far?"

And when thou with wonder
Hast gazed on the light,

I fall down before thee,
Entranced by thy sight!

1803.
-----

TO MIGNON.
OVER vale and torrent far

Rolls along the sun's bright car.
Ah! he wakens in his course

Mine, as thy deep-seated smart
In the heart.

Ev'ry morning with new force.
Scarce avails night aught to me;

E'en the visions that I see
Come but in a mournful guise;

And I feel this silent smart
In my heart

With creative pow'r arise.
During many a beauteous year

I have seen ships 'neath me steer,
As they seek the shelt'ring bay;

But, alas, each lasting smart
In my heart

Floats not with the stream away.
I must wear a gala dress,

Long stored up within my press,
For to-day to feasts is given;

None know with what bitter smart
Is my heart

Fearfully and madly riven.
Secretly I weep each tear,

Yet can cheerful e'en appear,
With a face of healthy red;

For if deadly were this silent smart
In my heart,

Ah, I then had long been dead!
-----

THE MOUNTAIN CASTLE.
THERE stands on yonder high mountain

A castle built of yore,
Where once lurked horse and horseman

In rear of gate and of door.
Now door and gate are in ashes,

And all around is so still;
And over the fallen ruins

I clamber just as I will.
Below once lay a cellar,

With costly wines well stor'd;
No more the glad maid with her pitcher

Descends there to draw from the hoard.
No longer the goblet she places

Before the guests at the feast;
The flask at the meal so hallow'd

No longer she fills for the priest.
No more for the eager squire

The draught in the passage is pour'd;
No more for the flying present

Receives she the flying reward.
For all the roof and the rafters,

They all long since have been burn'd,
And stairs and passage and chapel

To rubbish and ruins are turn'd.
Yet when with lute and with flagon,

When day was smiling and bright,
I've watch'd my mistress climbing

To gain this perilous height,
Then rapturejoyous and radiant

The silence so desolate brake,
And all, as in days long vanish'd,

Once more to enjoyment awoke;
As if for guests of high station

The largest rooms were prepared;
As if from those times so precious

A couple thither had fared;
As if there stood in his chapel

The priest in his sacred dress,
And ask'd: "Would ye twain be united?"

And we, with a smile, answer'd, "Yes!"
And songs that breath'd a deep feeling,

That touched the heart's innermost chord,
The music-fraught mouth of sweet echo,

Instead of the many, outpour'd.
And when at eve all was hidden

In silence unbroken and deep,
The glowing sun then look'd upwards,

And gazed on the summit so steep.
And squire and maiden then glitter'd

As bright and gay as a lord,
She seized the time for her present,

And he to give her reward.
1803.*

-----
THE SPIRIT'S SALUTE.

THE hero's noble shade stands high
On yonder turret grey;

And as the ship is sailing by,
He speeds it on his way.

"See with what strength these sinews thrill'd!
This heart, how firm and wild!

These bones, what knightlymarrow fill'd!
This cup, how bright it smil'd!

"Half of my life I strove and fought,
And half I calmly pass'd;

And thou, oh ship with beings fraught,
Sail safely to the last!"

1774.
-----

TO A GOLDEN HEART THAT HE WORE ROUND HIS NECK.
[Addressed, during the Swiss tour already mentioned, to a present

Lily had given him, during the time of their happy connection,
which was then about to be terminated for ever.]

OH thou token loved of joys now perish'd
That I still wear from my neck suspended,

Art thou stronger than our spirit-bond so cherish'd?
Or canst thou prolong love's days untimely ended?

Lily, I fly from thee! I still am doom'd to range
Thro' countries strange,

Thro' distant vales and woods, link'd on to thee!
Ah, Lily's heart could surely never fall

So soon away from me!
As when a bird bath broken from his thrall,

And seeks the forest green,
Proof of imprisonment he bears behind him,

A morsel of the thread once used to bind him;
The free-born bird of old no more is seen,

For he another's prey bath been.
1775.

-----
THE BLISS OF SORROW.

NEVER dry, never dry,
Tears that eternal love sheddeth!

How dreary, how dead doth the world still appear,
When only half-dried on the eye is the tear!

Never dry, never dry,
Tears that unhappy love sheddeth!

1789.*
-----

THE WANDERER'S NIGHT-SONG.
THOU who comest from on high,

Who all woes and sorrows stillest,
Who, for twofold misery,

Hearts with twofold balsam fillest,
Would this constantstrife would cease!

What are pain and rapture now?
Blissful Peace,

To my bosom hasten thou!
1789.*

-----
THE SAME.

[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of
Ilmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed

the last act of his Iphigenia.]
HUSH'D on the hill

Is the breeze;
Scarce by the zephyr

The trees


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