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

by their decision--I swear it,-- And not see the maiden again, until she my own is." Then he left the house; meanwhile the others were eagerly Settling many a point, and the weighty matter debating.

Hermann sped to the stable forthwith, where the spirited stallions Tranquilly stood and with eagerness swallow'd the pure oats before them, And the well-dried hay, which was cut from the best of their meadows. Then in eager haste in their mouths the shining bits placed he, Quickly drew the harness through the well-plated buckles, And then fastend the long broad reins in proper position, Led the horses out in the yard, where already the carriage, Easily moved along by its pole, had been push'd by the servant. Then they restrain'd the impetuous strength of the fast-moving horses, Fastening both with neat-looking ropes to the bar of the carriage. Hermann seized his whip, took his seat, and drove to the gateway. When in the roomy carriage his friends had taken their places, Swiftly he drove away, and left the pavement behind them, Left behind the walls of the town and the clean-looking towers, Thus sped Hermann along, till he reach'd the familiar highway, Not delaying a moment, and galloping uphill and downhill. When however at length the village steeple descried he, And not far away lay the houses surrounded by gardens, He began to think it was time to hold in the horses.

By the time-honour'd gloom of noble lime-trees o'er shadow'd, Which for many a century past on the spot had been rooted, Stood there a green and spreading grass-plot in front of the village, Cover'd with turf, for the peasants and neighbouring townsmen a playground. Scooped out under the trees, to no great depth, stood a fountain. On descending the steps, some benches of stone might be seen there, Ranged all around the spring, which ceaselessly well'd forth its waters, Cleanly, enclosed by a low wall all round, and convenient to draw from. Hermann then determined beneath the shadow his horses With the carriage to stop. He did so, and spoke then as follows "Now, my friends, get down, and go by yourselves to discover Whether the maiden is worthy to have the hand which I offer. I am convinced that she is; and you'll bring me no new or strange story: Had I to manage alone, I would straightway go off to the village, And in few words should my fate by the charming creature be settled.

Her you will easily recognize 'mongst all the rest of the people, For her appearance is altogether unlike that of others. But I will now describe the modest dress she is wearing:-- First a bodice red her well-arch'd bosom upraises, Prettily tied, while black are the stays fitting closely around her. Then the seams of the ruff she has carefully plaited and folded, Which with modest grace, her chin so round is encircling. Free and joyously rises her head with its elegant oval, Strongly round bodkins of silver her back-hair is many times twisted Her blue well-plaited gown begins from under her bodice. And as she walks envelopes her well-turn'd ankles completely. But I have one thing to say, and this must expressly entreat you: Do not speak to the maiden, and let not your scheme be discover'd. But inquire of others, and hearken to all that they tell you, When you have learnt enough to satisfy father and mother, Then return to me straight, and we'll settle future proceedings. This is the plan which I have matured, while driving you hither."

Thus he spoke, and the friends forthwith went on to the village, Where, in gardens and barns and houses, the multitude crowded; All along the broad road the numberless carts were collected, Men were feeding the lowing cattle and feeding the horses. Women on every hedge the linen were carefully drying, Whilst the children in glee were splashing about in the streamlet. Forcing their way through the waggons, and past the men and the cattle, Walk'd the ambassador spies, looking well to the righthand and lefthand, Hoping somewhere to see the form of the well-described maiden; But wherever they look'd, no trace of the girl they discover'd.

Presently denser became the crowd. Round some of the waggons. Men in a passion were quarrelling, women also were screaming. Then of a sudden approach'd an aged man with firm footstep Marching straight up to the fighters; and forthwith was hush'd the contention, When he bade them be still, and with fatherly earnestness threaten'd. "Are we not yet," he exclaim'd, "by misfortune so knitted together, As to have learnt at length the art of reciprocal patience And toleration, though each cannot measure the actions of others? Prosperous men indeed may quarrel! Will sorrow not teach you How no longer as formerly you should quarrel with brethren? Each should give way to each other, when treading the soil of the stranger, And, as you hope for mercy yourselves, you should share your possessions."

Thus the man address'd them, and all were silent. In peaceful Humour the reconciled men look'd after their cattle and waggons. When the pastor heard the man discourse in this fashion, And the foreign magistrate's peaceful nature discovered, He approach'd him in turn, and used this significant language "Truly, Father, when nations are living in days of good fortune, Drawing their food from the earth, which gladly opens its treasures, And its wish'd-for gifts each year and each month is renewing, Then all matters go smoothly; each thinks himself far the wisest, And the best, and so they exist by the side of each other, And the most sensible man no better than others is reckon'd For the world moves on, as if by itself and in silence. But when distress unsettles our usual manner of living, Pulls down each time-honour'd fabric, and roots up the seed in our gardens, Drives the man and his wife far away from the home they delight in, Hurries them off in confusion through days and nights full of anguish, Ah! then look we around in search of the man who is wisest, And no longer in vain he utters his words full of wisdom. Tell me whether you be these fugitives' magistrate, Father, Over whose minds you appear to possess such an influence soothing? Aye, to-day I could deem you one of the leaders of old time, Who through wastes and through deserts conducted the wandering people; I could imagine 'twas Joshua I am addressing, or Moses."

Then with solemn looks the magistrate answer'd as follows "Truly the present times resemble the strangest of old times, Which are preserved in the pages of history, sacred or common. He in these days who has lived to-day and yesterday only, Many a year has lived, events so crowd on each other. When I reflect back a little, a grey old age I could fancy On my head to be lying, and yet my strength is still active. Yes, we people in truth may liken ourselves to those others Unto whom in a fiery bush appear'd, in a solemn Moment, the Lord our God; in fire and clouds we behold him."

When the pastor would fain continue to speak on this subject, And was anxious to learn the fate of the man and his party, Quickly into his ear his companion secretly whisper'd "Speak for a time with the magistrate, turning your talk on the maiden, Whilst I wander about, endeav'ring to find her. Directly I am successful, I'll join you again." Then nodded the pastor, And the spy went to seek her, in barns and through hedges and gardens.

VI. KLIO.

THE AGE.

WHEN the pastor ask'd the foreign magistrate questions, What the people had suffer'd, how long from their homes they had wander'd, Then the man replied:--"By no means short are our sorrows, For we have drunk the bitters of many a long year together, All the more dreadful, because our fairest hopes have been blighted. Who can deny that his heart beat wildly and high in his bosom And that with purer pulses his breast more freely was throbbing, When the newborn sun first rose in the whole of its glory, When we heard of the right of man, to have all things in common, Heard of noble Equality, and of inspiriting Freedom! Each man then hoped to attain new life for himself, and the fetters Which had encircled many a land appear'd to be broken, Fetters held by the hands of sloth and selfish indulgence. Did not all nations turn their gaze, in those days of emotion, Tow'rds the world's capital, which so many a long year had been so, And then more than ever deserved a name so distinguish'd? Were not the men, who first proclaim'd so noble a message, Names that are worthy to rank with the highest the sun ever shone on, Did not each give to mankind his courage and genius and language?

"And we also, as neighbours, at first were warmly excited. Presently after began the war, and the train of arm'd Frenchmen Nearer approach'd; at first they appear'd to bring with them friendship, And they brought it in fact; for all their souls were exalted. And the gay trees of liberty ev'rywhere gladly they planted, Promising unto each his own, and the government long'd for. Greatly at this was youth, and greatly old age was delighted, And the joyous dance began round the newly-raised standards. In this manner the overpowering Frenchmen soon conquer'd First the minds of the men, with their fiery lively proceedings, Then the hearts of the women, with irresistible graces. Even the strain of the war, with its many demands, seem'd but trifling, For before our eyes the distance by hope was illumined, Luring our gaze far ahead into paths now first open'd before us. "O how joyful the time, when with his bride the glad bridegroom Whirls in the dance, awaiting the day that will join them for ever But more glorious far was the time when the Highest of all things Which man's mind can conceive, close by and attainable seemed. Then were the tongues of all loosen'd, and words of wisdom and feeling Not by greybeards alone, but by men and by striplings were utter'd.

"But the heavens soon clouded became. For the sake of the mast'ry Strove a contemptible crew, unfit to accomplish good actions. Then they murder'd each other, and took to oppressing their new-found Neighbours and brothers, and sent on missions whole herds of self�seekers And the superiors took to carousing and robbing by wholesale, And the inferiors down to the lowest caroused and robb'd also. Nobody thought of aught else than having enough for tomorrow. Terrible was the distress, and daily increased the oppression. None the cry understood, that they of the day were the masters. Then even temperate minds were attack'd by sorrow and fury; Each one reflected, and swore to avenge all the injuries suffer'd, And to atone for the hitter loss of hopes twice defrauded. Presently Fortune declared herself on the side of the Germans, And the French were compell'd to retreat by forced marches before them. Ah! the sad fate of the war we then for the first time experienced. For the victor is kind and humane, at least he appears so, And he spares the man he has vanquish'd, as if he his own were, When he employs him daily, and with his property helps him. But the fugitive knows no law; he wards off death only, And both quickly and recklessly all that he meets with, consumes he. Then his mind becomes heated apace; and soon desperation Fills his heart, and impels him to all kinds of criminal actions. Nothing then holds he respected, he steals It. With furious longing On the woman he rushes; his lust becomes awful to think of. Death all around him he sees, his last minutes in cruelty spends