When, in their stead, care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm. 
Neither the Furies’ torch, nor the hounds of hell with their harking

Awe the delinquent so much, down in the plains of despair,
As by the motionless spectre I’m awed, that shows me the fair one

Far away:  of a truth, open the garden-door stands! 
And another one cometh!  For him the fruit, too, is falling,

And for him, also, the fig strengthening honey doth yield! 
Doth she entice him as well to the arbour?  He follows?  Oh, make me

Blind, ye Immortals! efface visions like this from my mind! 
Yes, she is but a maiden!  And she who to one doth so quickly

Yield, to another ere long, doubtless, Will turn herself round. 
Smile not, Zeus, for this once, at an oath so cruelly broken!

Thunder more fearfully!  Strike!—­Stay—­thy fierce lightnings withhold! 
Hurl at me thy quivering bolt!  In the darkness of midnight

Strike with thy lightning this mast, make it a pitiful wreck!  Scatter the planks all around, and give to the boisterous billows

All these wares, and let me be to the dolphins a prey Now, ye Muses, enough!  In vain would ye strive to depicture

How, in a love-laden breast, anguish alternates with bliss.  Ye cannot heal the wounds, it is true, that love hath inflicted;

Yet from you only proceeds, kindly ones, comfort and balm.

1796.
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Hermann and Dorothea.

In nine cantos.
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I. KALLIOPE.

Fate and sympathy.

“Ne’er have I seen the market and streets so thoroughly empty! 
Still as the grave is the town, clear’d out!  I verily fancy
Fifty at most of all our inhabitants still may be found there. 
People are so inquisitive!  All are running and racing
Merely to see the sad train of poor fellows driven to exile. 
Down to the causeway now building, the distance nearly a league is,
And they thitherward rush, in the heat and the dust of the noonday. 
As for me, I had rather not stir from my place just to stare at
Worthy and sorrowful fugitives, who, with what goods they can carry,
Leaving their own fair land on the further side of the Rhine-stream,
Over to us are crossing, and wander through the delightful
Nooks of this fruitful vale, with all its twistings and windings. 
Wife, you did right well to bid our son go and meet them,
Taking with him old linen, and something to eat and to drink too,
Just to give to the poor; the rich are bound to befriend them. 
How he is driving along!  How well he holds in the horses! 
Then the new little carriage looks very handsome; inside it
Four can easily sit, besides the one on the coachbox. 
This time he is alone; how easily-turns it the corner!”
Thus to his wife the host of the Golden Lion discoursed,