God poems
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The God And The Bayadere.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This very fine Ballad was also first given in the Horen.]
(MAHADEVA is one of the numerous names of Seeva, the destroyer,--
the great god of the Brahmins.)
Lines On Seeing Schiller's Skull.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This curious imitation of the ternary metre
of Dante was written at the age of 77.]WITHIN a gloomy charnel-house one dayI view'd the countless skulls, so strangely mated,
And of old times I thought, that now were grey.Close pack'd they stand, that once so fiercely hated,
And hardy bones, that to the death contended,Are lying cross'd,--to lie for ever, fated.
The New Amor.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AMOR, not the child, the youthful lover of Psyche,
Look'd round Olympus one day, boldly, to triumph inured;
There he espied a goddess, the fairest amongst the immortals,--
Venus Urania she,--straight was his passion inflamed.
The Maid Of The Mill's Repentance.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Expel thee!
What's this thou singest so falsely, forsooth,
Of love and a maiden's silent truth?
Rinaldo.*
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[This Cantata was written for Prince Frederick
of Gotha, and set to music by Winter, the Prince singing the part
of Rinaldo.--See the Annalen.]
The German Parnassus.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
With her modest pinions, see,
Philomel encircles me!
In these bushes, in yon grove,
The Visit.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
While at work had slumber stolen o'er her;
For her knitting and her needle found I
Resting in her folded bands so tender;
And I placed myself beside her softly,
And held counsel, whether I should wake her.
Hans Sachs' Poetical Mission.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Soon as the spring-sun meets his view,
Repose begets him labour anew;
He feels that he holds within his brain
A little world, that broods there amain,
And that begins to act and to live,
Which he to others would gladly give.
What Matters It?
© George Frederick Cameron
What matters it the spot we fill
On Earth's green sod when all is said?
When feet and hands and heart are still
And all our pulses quieted?
When hate or love can kill nor thrill,
When we are done with life and dead?
Jupiter And Fortune.
© Mary Barber
Enough--the Thunderer reply'd;
But say, whom have you satisfy'd?
These boasted Gifts are thine, I own;
But know, Content is mine alone.
Tame Xenia.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE Epigrams bearing the title of XENIA were written
by Goethe and Schiller together, having been first occasioned by
some violent attacks made on them by some insignificant writers.
They are extremely numerous, but scarcely any of them could be translated
into English. Those here given are merely presented as a specimen.
The Muse's Mirror.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
EARLY one day, the Muse, when eagerly bent on adornment,
Follow'd a swift-running streamlet, the quietest nook by it seeking.
Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful surface distorted
Ever her moving form; the goddess departed in anger.
With A Painted Ribbon.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
LITTLE leaves and flow'rets too,Scatter we with gentle hand,
Kind young spring-gods to the view,Sporting on an airy band.Zephyr, bear it on the wing,Twine it round my loved one's dress;
To her glass then let her spring,Full of eager joyousness.Roses round her let her see,She herself a youthful rose.
Grant, dear life, one look to me!'Twill repay me all my woes,What this bosom feels, feel thou.Freely offer me thy hand;
On Receiving A Book From Dante Rossetti
© Sydney Thompson Dobell
Since he is Poet of whom gods ordain
Some most anthropic and perhuman act
Explanation Of An Antique Gem,
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
A YOUNG fig-tree its form lifts highWithin a beauteous garden;
And see, a goat is sitting by.As if he were its warden.But oh, Quirites, how one errs!The tree is guarded badly;
For round the other side there whirrsAnd hums a beetle madly.The hero with his well-mail'd coatNibbles the branches tall so;
A mighty longing feels the goatGently to climb up also.And so, my friends, ere long ye seeThe tree all leafless standing;
My Goddess.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
But unto us he
Hath his most versatile,
Most cherished daughter
Granted,--what joy!
Lily's Menagerie.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
[Goethe describes this much-admired Poem, which
he wrote in honour of his love Lily, as being "designed to change
his surrender of her into despair, by drolly-fretful images."]
The Wanderer's Storm-song.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
Him whom thou ne'er leavest, Genius,
Thou wilt place upon thy fleecy pinion
When he sleepeth on the rock,--
Thou wilt shelter with thy guardian wing
In the forest's midnight hour.
The Pupil In Magic.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I AM now,--what joy to hear it!--Of the old magician rid;
And henceforth shall ev'ry spiritDo whate'er by me is bid;I have watch'd with rigourAll he used to do,And will now with vigourWork my wonders too.
Wander, wanderOnward lightly,So that rightlyFlow the torrent,And with teeming waters yonderIn the bath discharge its current!And now come, thou well-worn broom,And thy wretched form bestir;
Thou hast ever served as groom,So fulfil my pleasure, sir!On two legs now stand,With a head on top;Waterpail in hand,Haste, and do not stop!
Dedication.
© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
By new-born flow'rs that full of dew-drops hung;
The youthful day awoke with ecstacy,
And all things quicken'd were, to quicken me.
