"Thou sorrowest," murmurs he: "Be of good cheer, my friend!

All that is needed for calm happiness Hast thou not here?

Hast thou not pleasure in the golden bough That shields thee from the day's fierce glow?

Canst thou not raise thy breast to catch, On the soft moss beside the brook, The sun's last rays at even?

Here thou mayst wander through the flowers' fresh dew, Pluck from the overflow The forest-trees provide, Thy choicest food,--mayst quench Thy light thirst at the silvery spring.

Oh friend, true happiness Lies in contentedness, And that contentedness Finds everywhere enough."

"Oh, wise one!" said the eagle, while he sank In deep and ever deep'ning thought-- "Oh Wisdom! like a dove thou speakest!"

1774.*

----- PROMETHEUS.

COVER thy s.p.a.cious heavens, Zeus, With clouds of mist, And, like the boy who lops The thistles' heads, Disport with oaks and mountain-peaks, Yet thou must leave My earth still standing; My cottage too, which was not raised by thee; Leave me my hearth, Whose kindly glow By thee is envied.

I know nought poorer Under the sun, than ye G.o.ds!

Ye nourish painfully, With sacrifices And votive prayers, Your majesty: Ye would e'en starve, If children and beggars Were not trusting fools.

While yet a child And ignorant of life, I turned my wandering gaze Up tow'rd the sun, as if with him There were an ear to hear my wailings, A heart, like mine, To feel compa.s.sion for distress.

Who help'd me Against the t.i.tans' insolence?

Who rescued me from certain death, From slavery?

Didst thou not do all this thyself, My sacred glowing heart?

And glowedst, young and good, Deceived with grateful thanks To yonder slumbering one?

I honour thee! and why?

Hast thou e'er lighten'd the sorrows Of the heavy laden?

Hast thou e'er dried up the tears Of the anguish-stricken?

Was I not fashion'd to be a man By omnipotent Time, And by eternal Fate, Masters of me and thee?

Didst thou e'er fancy That life I should learn to hate, And fly to deserts, Because not all My blossoming dreams grew ripe?

Here sit I, forming mortals After my image; A race resembling me, To suffer, to weep, To enjoy, to be glad, And thee to scorn, As I!

1773.

----- GANYMEDE.

How, in the light of morning, Round me thou glowest, Spring, thou beloved one!

With thousand-varying loving bliss The sacred emotions Born of thy warmth eternal Press 'gainst my bosom, Thou endlessly fair one!

Could I but hold thee clasp'd Within mine arms!

Ah! upon thy bosom Lay I, pining, And then thy flowers, thy gra.s.s, Were pressing against my heart.

Thou coolest the burning Thirst of my bosom, Beauteous morning breeze!

The nightingale then calls me Sweetly from out of the misty vale.

I come, I come!

Whither? Ah, whither?

Up, up, lies my course.

While downward the clouds Are hovering, the clouds Are bending to meet yearning love.

For me, Within thine arms Upwards!

Embraced and embracing!

Upwards into thy bosom, Oh Father all-loving!

1789.*

----- THE BOUNDARIES OF HUMANITY.

WHEN the primeval All-holy Father Sows with a tranquil hand From clouds, as they roll, Bliss-spreading lightnings Over the earth, Then do I kiss the last Hem of his garment, While by a childlike awe Fiil'd is my breast.

For with immortals Ne'er may a mortal Measure himself.

If he soar upwards And if he touch With his forehead the stars, Nowhere will rest then His insecure feet, And with him sport Tempest and cloud.

Though with firm sinewy Limbs he may stand On the enduring Well-grounded earth, All he is ever Able to do, Is to resemble The oak or the vine.

Wherein do G.o.ds Differ from mortals?

In that the former See endless billows Heaving before them; Us doth the billow Lift up and swallow, So that we perish.

Small is the ring Enclosing our life, And whole generations Link themselves firmly On to existence's Chain never-ending.

1789. *

----- THE G.o.dLIKE.

n.o.bLE be man, Helpful and good!

For that alone Distinguisheth him From all the beings Unto us known.

Hail to the beings, Unknown and glorious, Whom we forebode!

From his example Learn we to know them!

For unfeeling Nature is ever: On bad and on good The sun alike shineth; And on the wicked, As on the best, The moon and stars gleam.

Tempest and torrent, Thunder and hail, Roar on their path, Seizing the while, As they haste onward, One after another.

Even so, fortune Gropes 'mid the throng-- Innocent boyhood's Curly head seizing,-- Seizing the h.o.a.ry Head of the sinner.

After laws mighty, Brazen, eternal, Must all we mortals Finish the circuit Of our existence.

Man, and man only Can do the impossible; He 'tis distinguisheth, Chooseth and judgeth; He to the moment Endurance can lend.

He and he only The good can reward, The bad can he punish, Can heal and can save; All that wanders and strays Can usefully blend.

And we pay homage To the immortals As though they were men, And did in the great, What the best, in the small, Does or might do.

Be the man that is n.o.ble, Both helpful and good.

Unweariedly forming The right and the useful, A type of those beings Our mind hath foreshadow'd!

1782.

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

----- in the wares before you spread, Types of all things may be read.

----- THE GERMAN PARNa.s.sUS.

'NEATH the shadow