The Poems of Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe [e novels for free .txt] 📗

and true. 1821.* -----

BARBARIANS oft endeavour

Gods for themselves to make But they're more hideous ever

Than dragon or than snake.

1821.* -----

WHAT shall I teach thee, the very first thing?-- Fain would I learn o'er my shadow to spring!

1827.* -----

"WHAT is science, rightly known? 'Tis the strength of life alone. Life canst thou engender never, Life must be life's parent ever.

1827.* -----

It matters not, I ween,

Where worms our friends consume, Beneath the turf so green,

Or 'neath a marble tomb. Remember, ye who live,

Though frowns the fleeting day, That to your friends ye give

What never will decay.

1827.* -----

RELIGION AND CHURCH.

THOUGHTS ON JESUS CHRIST'S DESCENT INTO HELL.

[THE remarkable Poem of which this is a literal but faint representation, was written when Goethe was only sixteen years old. It derives additional interest from the fact of its being the very earliest piece of his that is preserved. The few other pieces included by Goethe under the title of Religion and Church are polemical, and devoid of interest to the English reader.]

WHAT wondrous noise is heard around! Through heaven exulting voices sound,

A mighty army marches on By thousand millions follow'd, lo, To yon dark place makes haste to go

God's Son, descending from His throne! He goes--the tempests round Him break,

As Judge and Hero cometh He; He goes--the constellations quake,

The sun, the world quake fearfully.

I see Him in His victor-car, On fiery axles borne afar,

Who on the cross for us expired. The triumph to yon realms He shows,-- Remote from earth, where star ne'er glows,

The triumph He for us acquired. He cometh, Hell to extirpate,

Whom He, by dying, wellnigh kill'd; He shall pronounce her fearful fate

Hark! now the curse is straight fulfill'd.

Hell sees the victor come at last, She feels that now her reign is past,

She quakes and fears to meet His sight; She knows His thunders' terrors dread, In vain she seeks to hide her head,

Attempts to fly, but vain is flight; Vainly she hastes to 'scape pursuit

And to avoid her Judge's eye; The Lord's fierce wrath restrains her foot

Like brazen chains,--she cannot fly.

Here lies the Dragon, trampled down, He lies, and feels God's angry frown,

He feels, and grinneth hideously; He feels Hell's speechless agonies, A thousand times he howls and sighs:

"Oh, burning flames! quick, swallow me!" There lies he in the fiery waves,

By torments rack'd and pangs infernal, Instant annihilation craves,

And hears, those pangs will be eternal.

Those mighty squadrons, too, are here, The partners of his cursed career,

Yet far less bad than he were they. Here lies the countless throng combined, In black and fearful crowds entwined,

While round him fiery tempests play; He sees how they the Judge avoid,

He sees the storm upon them feed, Yet is not at the sight o'erjoy'd,

Because his pangs e'en theirs exceed.

The Son of Man in triumph passes Down to Hell's wild and black morasses,

And there unfolds His majesty. Hell cannot bear the bright array, For, since her first created day.

Darkness alone e'er govern'd she. She lay remote from ev'ry light

With torments fill'd in Chaos here; God turn'd for ever from her sight

His radiant features' glory clear.

Within the realms she calls her own, She sees the splendour of the Son,

His dreaded glories shining forth; She sees Him clad in rolling thunder, She sees the rocks all quake with wonder,

When God before her stands in wrath. She sees He comes her Judge to be,

She feels the awful pangs inside her, Herself to slay endeavours she,

But e'en this comfort is denied her.

Now looks she back, with pains untold, Upon those happy times of old,

When those glories gave her joy; When yet her heart revered the truth, When her glad soul, in endless youth

And rapture dwelt, without alloy. She calls to mind with madden'd thought

How over man her wiles prevail'd; To take revenge on God she sought,

And feels the vengeance it entail'd.

God was made man, and came to earth. Then Satan cried with fearful mirth:

"E'en He my victim now shall be!" He sought to slay the Lord Most High, The world's Creator now must die;

But, Satan, endless woe to thee! Thou thought'st to overcome Him then,

Rejoicing in His suffering; But he in triumph comes again

To bind thee: Death! where is thy sting?

Speak, Hell! where is thy victory? Thy power destroy'd and scatter'd see!

Know'st thou not now the Highest's might? See, Satan, see thy rule o'erthrown!

By thousand-varying pangs weigh'd down, Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night.

As though by lightning struck thou liest, No gleam of rapture far or wide;

In vain! no hope thou there decriest,-- For me alone Messiah died!

A howling rises through the air, A trembling fills each dark vault there,

When Christ to Hell is seen to come. She snarls with rage, but needs must cower Before our mighty hero's power;

He signs--and Hell is straightway dumb. Before his voice the thunders break,

On high His victor-banner blows; E'en angels at His fury quake,

When Christ to the dread judgment goes.

Now speaks He, and His voice is thunder, He speaks, the rocks are rent in sunder,

His breath is like devouring flames. Thus speaks He: "Tremble, ye accurs'd! He who from Eden hurl'd you erst,

Your kingdom's overthrow proclaims. Look up! My children once were ye,

Your arms against Me then ye turn'd, Ye fell, that ye might sinners be,

Ye've now the wages that ye earn'd.

"My greatest foeman from that day, Ye led my dearest friends astray,--

As ye had fallen, man must fall. To kill him evermore ye sought, 'They all shall die the death,' ye thought;

But howl! for Me I won them all. For them alone did I descend,

For them pray'd, suffer'd, perish'd I. Ye ne'er shall gain your wicked end;

Who trusts in Me shall never die.

"In endless chains here lie ye now, Nothing can save you from the slough.

Not boldness, not regret for crime. Lie, then, and writhe in brimstone fire! 'Twas ye yourselves drew down Mine ire,

Lie and lament throughout all time! And also ye, whom I selected,

E'en ye forever I disown, For ye My saving grace rejected

Ye murmur? blame yourselves alone!

"Ye might have lived with Me in bliss, For I of yore had promis'd this;

Ye sinn'd, and all My precepts slighted Wrapp'd in the sleep of sin ye dwelt, Now is My fearful judgment felt,

By a just doom your guilt requited."-- Thus spake He, and a fearful storm

From Him proceeds, the lightnings glow, The thunders seize each wicked form,

And hurl them in the gulf below.

The God-man closeth Hell's sad doors, In all His majesty He soars

From those dark regions back to light. He sitteth at the Father's side; Oh, friends, what joy doth this betide!

For us, for us He still will fight! The angels sacred quire around

Rejoice before the mighty Lord, So that all creatures hear the sound:

"Zebaoth's God be aye ador'd!"

1765. -----

ANTIQUES.

LEOPOLD, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK.

[Written on the occasion of the death, by drowning, of the Prince.]

THOU wert forcibly seized by the hoary lord of the river,--

Holding thee, ever he shares with thee his streaming domain, Calmly sleepest thou near his urn as it silently trickles,

Till thou to action art roused, waked by the swift-rolling flood. Kindly be to the people, as when thou still wert a mortal,

Perfecting that as a god, which thou didst fail in, as man.

1785. -----

TO THE HUSBANDMAN.

SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;

Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last. Joyously plough'd and sow'd! Here food all living is budding,

E'en from the side of the tomb Hope will not vanish away.

1789.* -----

ANACREON'S GRAVE.

HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are twining,

Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard, Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the Immortals

Beauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel,

And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last.

1789.* -----

THE BRETHREN.

SLUMBER and Sleep, two brethren ordain'd by the gods to their service,

Were by Prometheus implored, comfort to give to his race; But though so light to the gods, too heavy for man was their burden,

We in their slumber find sleep, we in their sleep meet with death.

1789.* -----

MEASURE OF TIME.

EROS, what mean'st thou by this? In each of thine hands is an hourglass!

What, oh thou frivolous god! twofold thy measure of time? "Slowly run from the one, the hours of lovers when parted;

While through the other they rush swiftly, as soon as they meet."

1789.* -----

WARNING.

WAKEN not Amor from sleep! The beauteous urchin still slumbers;

Go, and complete thou the task, that to the day is assign'd! Thus doth the prudent mother with care turn time to her profit,

While her babe is asleep, for 'twill awake but too soon.

1785.* -----

SOLITUDE.

OH ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,

Grant unto each whatsoe'er he may in silence desire! Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction,

And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves. For from the gods ye received what they ever denied unto mortals,

Power to comfort and aid all who in you may confide.