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DEATH-LAMENT OF THE NOBLE WIFE OF ASAN AGA. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Goethe’s Works, vol. 1 (Poems) [1885]

Edition used:

Goethe’s Works, illustrated by the best German artists, 5 vols. (Philadelphia: G. Barrie, 1885). Vol. 1.

Part of: Goethe’s Works, 5 vols.

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DEATH-LAMENT OF THE NOBLE WIFE OF ASAN AGA.

    • WHAT is yonder white thing in the forest?
    • Is it snow, or can it swans perchance be?
    • Were it snow, ere this it had been melted,
    • Were it swans, they all away had hasten’d.
    • Snow, in truth, it is not, swans it is not;
    • ’Tis the shining tents of Asan Aga.
    • He within is lying, sorely wounded;
    • To him come his mother and his sister;
    • Bashfully his wife delays to come there.
    • When the torment of his wounds had lessen’d,
    • To his faithful wife he sent this message:
    • “At my court no longer dare to tarry,
    • At my court, or e’en amongst my people.”
    • When the woman heard this cruel message,
    • Mute and full of sorrow stood that true one.
    • At the doors she hears the feet of horses,
    • And bethinks that Asan comes,—her husband,
    • To the tower she springs, to leap thence head-long.
    • Her two darling daughters follow sadly,
    • And whilst weeping bitter tears, exclaim they:
    • “These are not our father Asan’s horses;
    • ’Tis thy brother Pintorowich coming!”
    • So the wife of Asan turns to meet him,
    • Clasps her arms in anguish round her brother:
    • “See thy sister’s sad disgrace, O brother!
    • How I’m banish’d—mother of five children!”
    • Silently her brother from his wallet,
    • Wrapp’d in deep red silk, and ready written,
    • Draweth forth the letter of divorcement,
    • To return home to her mother’s dwelling,
    • Free to be another’s wife thenceforward.
    • When the woman saw that mournful letter,
    • Fervently she kiss’d her two sons’ foreheads,
    • And her two girls’ cheeks with fervor kiss’d she.
    • But she from the suckling in the cradle
    • Could not tear herself, so deep her sorrow!
    • So she’s torn thence by her fiery brother;
    • On his nimble steed he lifts her quickly,
    • And so hastens, with the heart-sad woman,
    • Straightway tow’rd his father’s lofty dwelling.
    • Short the time was—seven days had pass’d not,
    • Yet enough ’twas; many mighty princes
    • Sought the woman in her widow’s mourning,
    • Sought the woman,—as their wife they sought her.
    • And the mightiest was Imoski’s Cadi,
    • And the woman weeping begg’d her brother:
    • “By thy life, my brother, I entreat thee,
    • Let me not another’s wife be ever,
    • Lest my heart be broken at the image
    • Of my poor, my dearly-cherish’d children!”
    • To her prayer her brother would not hearken,
    • Fix’d to wed her to Imoski’s Cadi.
    • Yet the good one ceaselessly implor’d him:
    • “Send, at least a letter, O my brother,
    • With this message to Imoski’s Cadi:
    • ‘The young widow sends thee friendly greeting;
    • Earnestly she prays thee, through this letter,
    • That, when thou com’st hither, with thy Suatians,
    • A long veil thou’lt bring me, ’neath whose shadow
    • I may hide, when near the house of Asan,
    • And not see my dearly-cherish’d orphans.’ ”
    • Scarcely had the Cadi read this letter,
    • Than he gather’d all his Suatians round him,
    • And then tow’rd the bride his course directed,
    • And the veil she ask’d for, took he with him.
    • Happily they reach’d the princess’ dwelling,
    • From the dwelling happily they led her.
    • But when they approach’d the house of Asan,
    • Lo! the children saw from high their mother,
    • And they shouted: “To thy halls return thou!
    • Eat thy supper with thy darling children!”
    • Mournfully the wife of Asan heard it,
    • Tow’rd the Suatian prince then turn’d she, saying:
    • “Let, I pray, the Suatians and the horses
    • At the lov’d ones’ door a short time tarry,
    • That I may give presents to my children.”
    • And before the lov’d ones’ door they tarried,
    • And she presents gave to her poor children,
    • To the boys gave gold-embroider’s buskins,
    • To the girls gave long and costly dresses,
    • To the suckling, helpless in the cradle,
    • Gave a garment, to be worn hereafter.
    • This aside saw Father Asan Aga,—
    • Sadly cried he to his darling children:
    • “Hither come, ye dear unhappy infants,
    • For your mother’s breast is turn’d to iron,
    • Lock’d forever, clos’d to all compassion!”
    • When the wife of Asan heard him speak thus,
    • On the ground, all pale and trembling, fell she,
    • And her spirit fled her sorrowing bosom
    • When she saw her children flying from her.
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