Easy ’tis following the chariot
That by Fortune is driven,
Like the baggage that moves
Over well-mended highways
After the train of a prince.

But who stands there apart? 
In the thicket, lost is his path;
Behind him the bushes
Are closing together,
The grass springs up again,
The desert engulphs him.

Ah, who’ll heal his afflictions,
To whom balsam was poison,
Who, from love’s fullness,
Drank in misanthropy only? 
First despised, and now a despiser,
He, in secret, wasteth
All that he is worth,
In a selfishness vain. 
If there be, on thy psaltery,
Father of Love, but one tone
That to his ear may be pleasing,
Oh, then, quicken his heart! 
Clear his cloud-enveloped eyes
Over the thousand fountains
Close by the thirsty one
In the desert.

Thou who createst much joy,
For each a measure o’erflowing,
Bless the sons of the chase
When on the track of the prey,
With a wild thirsting for blood,
Youthful and joyous
Avenging late the injustice
Which the peasant resisted
Vainly for years with his staff.

But the lonely one veil
Within thy gold clouds! 
Surround with winter-green,
Until the roses bloom again,
The humid locks,
Oh Love, of thy minstrel!

With thy glimmering torch
Lightest thou him
Through the fords when ’tis night,
Over bottomless places
On desert-like plains;
With the thousand colours of morning
Gladd’nest his bosom;
With the fierce-biting storm
Bearest him proudly on high;
Winter torrents rush from the cliffs,—­
Blend with his psalms;
An altar of grateful delight
He finds in the much-dreaded mountain’s
Snow-begirded summit,
Which foreboding nations
Crown’d with spirit-dances.

Thou stand’st with breast inscrutable,
Mysteriously disclosed,
High o’er the wondering world,
And look’st from clouds
Upon its realms and its majesty,
Which thou from the veins of thy brethren
Near thee dost water.

1777.
-----
To father* Kronos.

[written in a post-chaise.]

(* In the original, Schwager, which has the twofold meaning of brother-in-law and postilion.)

Hasten thee, Kronos! 
On with clattering trot
Downhill goeth thy path;
Loathsome dizziness ever,
When thou delayest, assails me. 
Quick, rattle along,
Over stock and stone let thy trot
Into life straightway lead

Now once more
Up the toilsome ascent
Hasten, panting for breath! 
Up, then, nor idle be,—­
Striving and hoping, up, up!

Wide, high, glorious the view
Gazing round upon life,
While from mount unto mount
Hovers the spirit eterne,
Life eternal foreboding.

Sideways a roof’s pleasant shade
Attracts thee,
And a look that promises coolness
On the maidenly threshold. 
There refresh thee!  And, maiden,
Give me this foaming draught also,
Give me this health-laden look!