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To the plain his course he taketh,

Serpent-winding,
Social streamlets

Join his waters. And now moves he
O'er the plain in silv'ry glory,

And the plain in him exults,
And the rivers from the plain,

And the streamlets from the mountain,
Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother,

Brother, take thy brethren with thee,
With thee to thine aged father,

To the everlasting ocean,
Who, with arms outstretching far,

Waiteth for us;
Ah, in vain those arms lie open

To embrace his yearning children;
For the thirsty sand consumes us

In the desert waste; the sunbeams
Drink our life-blood; hills around us

Into lakes would dam us! Brother,
Take thy brethren of the plain,

Take thy brethren of the mountain
With thee, to thy father's arms!

Let all come, then!--
And now swells he

Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people
Bears his regal flood on high!

And in triumphonward rolling,
Names to countries gives he,--cities

Spring to light beneath his foot.
Ever, ever, on he rushes,

Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits,
Marble palaces, the offspring

Of his fullness, far behind.
Cedar-houses bears the Atlas

On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring
In the breeze far, far above him

Thousand flags are gaily floating,
Bearing witness to his might.

And so beareth he his brethren,
All his treasures, all his children,

Wildly shouting, to the bosom
Of his long-expectant sire.

1774.
-----

SPIRIT SONG OVER THE WATERS.
THE soul of man

Resembleth water:
From heaven it cometh,

To heaven it soareth.
And then again

To earth descendeth,
Changing ever.

Down from the lofty
Rocky wall

Streams the bright flood,
Then spreadeth gently

In cloudy billows
O'er the smooth rock,

And welcomed kindly,
Veiling, on roams it,

Soft murmuring,
Tow'rd the abyss.

Cliffs projecting
Oppose its progress,--

Angrily foams it
Down to the bottom,

Step by step.
Now, in flat channel,

Through the meadowland steals it,
And in the polish'd lake

Each constellation
Joyously peepeth.

Wind is the loving
Wooer of waters;

Wind blends together
Billows all-foaming.

Spirit of man,
Thou art like unto water!

Fortune of man,
Thou art like unto wind!

1789.*
-----

MY GODDESS.
SAY, which Immortal

Merits the highest reward?
With none contend I,

But I will give it
To the aye-changing,

Ever-moving
Wondrous daughter of Jove.

His best-beloved offspring.
Sweet Phantasy.

For unto her
Hath he granted

All the fancies which erst
To none allow'd he

Saving himself;
Now he takes his pleasure

In the mad one.
She may, crowned with roses,

With staff twined round with lilies,
Roam thro' flow'ry valleys,

Rule the butterfly-people,
And soft-nourishing dew

With bee-like lips
Drink from the blossom:

Or else she may
With fluttering hair

And gloomy looks
Sigh in the wind

Round rocky cliffs,
And thousand-hued.

Like morn and even.
Ever changing,

Like moonbeam's light,
To mortals appear.

Let us all, then,
Adore the Father!

The old, the mighty,
Who such a beauteous

Ne'er-fading spouse
Deigns to accord

To perishing mortals!
To us alone

Doth he unite her,
With heavenly bonds,

While he commands her,
in joy and sorrow,

As a true spouse
Never to fly us.

All the remaining
Races so poor

Of life-teeming earth.
In children so rich.

Wander and feed
In vacant enjoyment,

And 'mid the dark sorrows
Of evanescent

Restricted life,--
Bow'd by the heavy

Yoke of Necessity.
But unto us he

Hath his most versatile,
Most cherished daughter

Granted,--what joy!
Lovingly greet her

As a beloved one!
Give her the woman's

Place in our home!
And oh, may the aged

Stepmother Wisdom
Her gentle spirit

Ne'er seek to harm!
Yet know I her sister,

The older, sedater,
Mine own silent friend;

Oh, may she never,
Till life's lamp is quench'd,

Turn away from me,--
That noble inciter,

Comforter,--Hope!
1781.

-----
WINTER JOURNEY OVER THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS.

[The following explanation is necessary, in order to make this
ode in any way intelligible. The Poet is supposed to leave his

companions, who are proceeding on a huntingexpedition in winter,
in order himself to pay a visit to a hypochondriacal friend, and

also to see the mining in the Hartz mountains. The ode
alternately describes, in a very fragmentary and peculiar manner,

the naturally happy disposition of the Poet himself and the
unhappiness of his friend; it pictures the wildness of the road

and the dreariness of the prospect, which is relieved at one spot
by the distant sight of a town, a very vague allusion to which is

made in the third strophe; it recalls the hunting party on which
his companions have gone; and after an address to Love, concludes

by a contrast between the unexplored recesses of the highest peak
of the Hartz and the metalliferous veins of its smaller

brethren.]
LIKE the vulture

Who on heavy morning clouds
With gentle wing reposing

Looks for his prey,--
Hover, my song!

For a God hath
Unto each prescribed

His destined path,
Which the happy one

Runs o'er swiftly
To his glad goal:

He whose heart cruel
Fate hath contracted,

Struggles but vainly
Against all the barriers

The brazen thread raises,
But which the harsh shears

Must one day sever.
Through gloomy thickets

Presseth the wild deer on,
And with the sparrows



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