The Poems of Goethe eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 358 pages of information about The Poems of Goethe.

The Poems of Goethe eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 358 pages of information about The Poems of Goethe.

Chorus.

Now order it truly,
That ev’ry one duly
May roam and may wander,
Now here, and now yonder,

The meadows along.

[The Chorus retreats gradually, and the song becomes fainter and fainter, till it dies away in the distance.]

Damon.

In vain ye call, in vain would lure me on;
True my heart speaks,—­but with itself alone.

And if I may view

  A blessing-fraught land,

The heaven’s clear blue,

And the plain’s verdant hue,

Alone I’ll rejoice,

Undisturbed by man’s voice.

And there I’ll pay homage

  To womanly merit,

  Observe it in spirit,

In spirit pay homage;

To echo alone

Shall my secret be known.

CHORUS.

[Faintly mingling with Damon’s song in the distance.]

To echo—­alone—­

Shall my secret—­be known.—­

MENALCAS.

My friend, why meet I here with thee?

Thou hast’nest not to join the festal throng? 
No longer stay, but come with me,

And mingle in the dance and song.

Damon.

Thou’rt welcome, friend! but suffer me to roam

Where these old beeches hide me from man’s view: 
Love seeks in solitude a home,

And homage may retreat there too.

MENALCAS.

Thou seekest here a spurious fame,

And hast a mind to-day to grieve me. 
Love as thy portion thou mayst claim

But homage thou must share with all, believe me!

When their voices thousands raise,
And the dawn of morning praise,

  Rapture bringing,

  Blithely singing

On before us,
Heart and ear in pleasure vie;

  And when thousands join in chorus,

With the feelings brightly glowing,

And the wishes overflowing,
Forcibly they’ll bear thee high.

[The Chorus gradually approaches, from the distance.]

Damon.

Distant strains are hither wending,

And I’m gladden’d by the throng;
Yes, they’re coming,—­yes, descending

To the valley from the height,

MENALCAS.

Let us haste, our footsteps blending

With the rhythm of the song! 
Yes, they come; their course they’re bending

Tow’rd the wood’s green sward so bright.

Chorus.
[Gradually becoming louder.]

Yes, we hither come, attending

With the harmony of song,
As the hours their race are ending

On this day of blest delight.

All.

Let none reveal
The thoughts we feel,
The aims we own! 
Let joy alone

Disclose the story! 
She’ll prove it right
And her delight

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
The Poems of Goethe from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.