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ROMAN ELEGIES.

- I.
- SPEAK, ye stones, I entreat! Oh, speak, ye palaces lofty!
- Utter a word, O ye streets! Wilt thou not, Genius, awake?
- All that thy sacred walls, eternal Rome, hold within them
- Teemeth with life; but to me, all is still silent and dead.
- Oh, who will whisper unto me,—when shall I see at the casement
- That one beauteous form, which, while it scorcheth, revives?
- Can I as yet not discern the road on which I forever
- To her and from her shall go, heeding not time as it flies?
- Still do I mark the churches, palaces, ruins and columns,
- As a wise traveller should, would he his journey improve.
- Soon all this will be past; and then will there be but one temple,
- Amor’s temple alone, where the Initiate may go.
- Thou art indeed a world, O Rome; and yet, were Love absent,
- Then would the world be no world, then would e’en Rome be no Rome.
- II.
- DO not repent, mine own love, that thou so soon didst surrender!
- Trust me, I deem thee not bold! reverence only I feel.
- Manifold workings the darts of Amor possess; some but scratching,
- Yet with insidious effect, poison the bosom for years.
- Others mightily feather’d, with fresh and newly-born sharpness
- Pierce to the innermost bone, kindle the blood into flame.
- In the heroical times, when lov’d each god and each goddess,
- Longing attended on sight; then with fruition was bless’d.
- Think’st thou the goddess had long been thinking of love and its pleasures
- When she, in Ida’s retreats, own’d to Anchises her flame?
- Had but Luna delay’d to kiss the beautiful sleeper,
- Oh, by Aurora, ere long, he had in envy been rous’d!
- Hero Leander espied at the noisy feast, and the lover
- Hotly and nimbly, ere long, plung’d in the night-cover’d flood.
- Rhea Silvia, virgin princess, roam’d near the Tiber,
- Seeking there water to draw, when by the god she was seiz’d.
- Thus were the sons of Mars begotten! The twins did a she-wolf
- Suckle and nurture,—and Rome call’d herself queen of the world.
- III.
- ALEXANDER, and Cæsar, and Henry, and Frederick, the mighty,
- On me would gladly bestow half of the glory they earn’d,
- Could I but grant unto each one night on the couch where I’m lying;
- But they, by Orcus’s night, sternly, alas! are held down.
- Therefore rejoice, O thou living one, bless’d in thy love-lighted homestead,
- Ere the dark Lethe’s sad wave wetteth thy fugitive foot.
- IV.
- THESE few leaves, O ye Graces, a bard presents in your honor,
- On your altar so pure, adding sweet rosebuds as well,
- And he does it with hope. The artist is glad in his workshop,
- When a Pantheon it seems round him forever to bring.
- Jupiter knits his godlike brow,—hers, Juno uplifteth;
- Phœbus strides on before, shaking his curly-lock’d head;
- Calmly and dryly Minerva looks down, and Hermes, the light one,
- Turneth his glances aside, roguish and tender at once.
- But towards Bacchus, the yielding, the dreaming, raiseth Cythere
- Looks both longing and sweet, e’en in the marble yet moist.
- Of his embraces she thinks with delight, and seems to be asking:
- “Should not our glorious son take up his place by our side?”
- V.
- AMOR is ever a rogue, and all who believe him are cheated!
- To me the hypocrite came: “Trust me, I pray thee, this once.
- Honest is now my intent,—with grateful thanks I acknowledge
- That thou thy life and thy works hast to my worship ordain’d.
- See, I have follow’d thee hither, to Rome, with kindly intention,
- Hoping to give thee mine aid, e’en in the foreigner’s land.
- Ev’ry trav’ller complains that the quarters he meets with are wretched;
- Happily lodg’d, though, is he, who is by Amor receiv’d.
- Thou dost observe the ruins of ancient buildings with wonder,
- Thoughtfully wandering on, over each time-hallow’d spot.
- Thou dost honor still more the worthy relics created
- By the few artists whom I lov’d in their studios to seek.
- I ’twas fashion’d those forms! thy pardon,—I boast not at present;
- Presently thou shalt confess that what I tell thee is true.
- Now that thou serv’st me more idly, where are the beauteous figures,
- Where are the colors, the light, which thy creations once fill’d?
- Hast thou a mind again to form? The school of the Grecians
- Still remains open, my friend; years have not barr’d up its doors.
- I, the teacher, am ever young, and love all the youthful,
- Love not the subtle and old. Mother, observe what I say!
- Still was new the Antique, when yonder bless’d ones were living;
- Happily live,—and, in thee, ages long vanish’d will live!
- Food for song, where hopest thou to find it? I only can give it,
- And a more excellent style, love, and love only can teach.”
- Thus did the Sophist discourse. What mortal, alas! could resist him?
- And when a master commands, I have been train’d to obey.
- Now he deceitfully keeps his word, gives food for my numbers,
- But, while he does so, alas! robs me of time, strength and mind.
- Looks, and pressure of hands, and words of kindness, and kisses,
- Syllables teeming with thought, by a fond pair are exchang’d.
- Then becomes whispering, talk,—and stammering, a language enchanting;
- Free from all prosody’s rules, dies such a hymn on the ear.
- Thee, Aurora, I used to own as the friend of the Muses;
- Hath, then, Amor the rogue cheated, Aurora, e’en thee?
- Thou dost appear to me now as his friend, and again dost awake me
- Unto a day of delight, while at his altar I kneel.
- All her locks I find on my bosom, her head is reposing,
- Pressing with softness the arm, which round her neck is entwin’d;
- Oh! what a joyous awak’ning, ye hours so peaceful, succeeded,
- Monument sweet of the bliss which had first rock’d us to sleep!
- In her slumber she moves, and sinks, while her face is averted,
- Far on the breadth of the couch, leaving her hand still in mine.
- Heartfelt love unites us forever, and yearnings unsullied,
- And our cravings alone claim for themselves the exchange.
- One faint touch of the hand, and her eyes so heavenly see I
- Once more open. Ah, no! let me still look on that form!
- Clos’d still remain! Ye make me confus’d and drunken, ye rob me
- Far too soon of the bliss pure contemplation affords.
- Mighty, indeed, are these figures! these limbs, how gracefully rounded!
- Theseus, could’st thou e’er fly, whilst Ariadne thus slept?
- Only one single kiss on these lips! Oh, Theseus, now leave us!
- Gaze on her eyes! she awakes!—Firmly she holds thee embrac’d!
- VI.
- PORTENT of Autumn, the flame in the sociable country-side mansion
- Crackles and gleams on the earth. Quickly the brushwood takes fire.
- How it delights my soul this evening! for now, ere the fagots
- Crumble to glowing coals, fall into ashes gray,
- Comes my favorite maiden! Then flame the billets and brushwood,
- And the comforting night warms us with festival joy.
- When it is early morn the couch of Love she forsaketh,
- Wakes from the ashes again agile, passionate flames.
- For above all things Amor the power to the flatterer granted
- Joy to awake which as yet scarcely to ashes had fallen.
- VII.
- “WHY, belov’d, didst thou not come to-day to the vineyard?
- Alone, as I promis’d, I stood waiting for thee on the hill!”
- “Dearest! scarce had I come when by chance I sighted thy uncle,
- Watching close to the vines, turning this way and that!
- Slyly I hurried away.” “Oh, what an error deceiv’d thee!
- Only a scarecrow it was that thou sawest! The form
- Skilfully fashion’d we made of reeds and ragged old raiment;
- I myself lent a hand: how my work has recoil’d!
- Now the old man’s wish is fulfill’d: to-day he has frighted
- From his preserves the bird stealing his garden and niece.”

artist: a. tsohautsch.

THE SIXTEENTH ELEGY.

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ROMAN ELEGIES. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Goethe’s Works, vol. 1 (Poems) [1885]

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ROMAN ELEGIES.

I.

II.

III.

IV.

V.

VI.

VII.