Close by her side! so the bond beareth an impress divine!

Oh then hasten, thou ship, with every favouring zephyr!

Onward, thou powerful keel, cleaving the waves as they foam!

Bring me unto the foreign harbour, so that the goldsmith

May in his workshop prepare straightway the heavenly pledge!

Ay, of a truth, the chain shall indeed be a chain, oh my Dora!

Nine times encircling thy neck, loosely around it entwin'd Other and manifold trinkets I'll buy thee; gold-mounted bracelets,

Richly and skillfully wrought, also shall grace thy fair hand.

There shall the ruby and emerald vie, the sapphire so lovely

Be to the jacinth oppos'd, seeming its foil; while the gold Holds all the jewels together, in beauteous union commingled.

Oh, how the bridegroom exults, when he adorns his betroth'd!

Pearls if I see, of thee they remind me; each ring that is shown me

Brings to my mind thy fair hand's graceful and tapering form.

I will barter and buy; the fairest of all shalt thou choose thee,

Joyously would I devote all of the cargo to thee.

Yet not trinkets and jewels alone is thy loved one procuring;

With them he brings thee whate'er gives to a housewife delight.

Fine and woollen coverlets, wrought with an edging of purple,

Fit for a couch where we both, lovingly, gently may rest; Costly pieces of linen. Thou sittest and sewest, and clothest

Me, and thyself, and, perchance, even a third with it too.

Visions of hope, deceive ye my heart! Ye kindly Immortals,

Soften this fierce-raging flame, wildly pervading my breast!

Yet how I long to feel them again, those rapturous torments.

When, in their stead, care draws nigh, coldly and fearfully calm.

Neither the Furies' torch, nor the hounds of h.e.l.l 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.

----- HERMANN AND DOROTHEA.

IN NINE CANTOS.

----- 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, Sitting at ease in the porch of his house adjoining the market.

Then replied as follows the shrewd and sensible hostess "Father, I don't like giving old linen away, for I find it Useful in so many ways, 'tis not to he purchased for money Just when it's wanted. And yet to-day I gladly have given Many excellent articles, shirts and covers and suchlike; For I have heard of old people and children walking half-naked.

Will you forgive me, too, for having ransacked your presses?

That grand dressing-gown, cover'd with Indian flowers all over, Made of the finest calico, lined with excellent flannel, I have despatch'd with the rest; 'tis thin, old, quite out of fashion."

But the worthy landlord only smiled, and then answer'd I shall dreadfully miss that ancient calico garment, Genuine Indian stuff! They're not to be had any longer.

Well! I shall wear it no more. And your poor husband henceforward Always must wear a surtout, I suppose, or commonplace jacket, Always must put on his boots; good bye to cap and to slippers!"

"See," continued his wife, "a few are already returning Who have seen the procession, which long ago must have pa.s.s'd by.

See how dusty their shoes are, and how their faces are glowing Each one carries a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

I, for one, wouldn't hurry and worry myself in such weather Merely to see such a sight! I'm certain to hear all about it."

And the worthy father, speaking with emphasis, added "Such fine weather seldom lasts through the whole of the harvest And we're bringing the fruit home, just as the hay we brought lately, Perfectly dry; the sky is clear, no cloud's in the heavens, And the whole day long delicious breezes are blowing.

Splendid weather I call it! The corn already too ripe is, And to-morrow begin we to gather the plentiful harvest."

Whilst he was thus discoursing, the number of men and of women Crossing the market and going towards home kept ever increasing; And there return'd amongst others, bringing with him his daughters, On the other side of the market, their prosperous neighbour, Going full speed to his newbuilt house, the princ.i.p.al merchant, Riding inside an open carriage (in Landau constructed).

All the streets were alive; for the town, though small, was well peopled, Many a factory throve there, and many a business also.