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LILY’S MENAGERIE. - 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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LILY’S MENAGERIE.

    • THERE’S no menagerie, I vow,
    • Excels my Lily’s at this minute;
    • She keeps the strangest creatures in it,
    • And catches them, she knows not how.
    • Oh, how they hop, and run, and rave,
    • And their clipp’d pinions wildly wave,—
    • Poor princes, who must all endure
    • The pangs of love that naught can cure.
    • What is the fairy’s name?—Is’t Lily?—Ask not me!
    • Give thanks to Heaven if she’s unknown to thee.
    • Oh, what a cackling, what a shrieking,
    • When near the door she takes her stand
    • With her food-basket in her hand!
    • Oh, what a croaking, what a squeaking!
    • Alive all the trees and the bushes appear,
    • While to her feet whole troops draw near;
    • The very fish within the water clear
    • Splash with impatience and their heads protrude;
    • And then she throws around the food
    • With such a look!—the very gods delighting
    • (To say naught of beasts). There begins then a biting,
    • A picking, a pecking, a sipping,
    • And each o’er the legs of another is tripping,
    • And pushing, and pressing, and flapping,
    • And chasing, and fuming, and snapping,
    • And all for one small piece of bread,
    • To which, though dry, her fair hands give a taste,
    • As though it in ambrosia had been plac’d.
    • And then her look! the tone
    • With which she calls: Pipi! Pipi!
    • Would draw Jove’s eagle from his throne;
    • Yes, Venus’ turtle-doves, I ween,
    • And the vain peacock e’en,
    • Would come, I swear,
    • Soon as that tone had reach’d them through the air.
    • E’en from a forest dark had she
    • Entic’d a bear, unlick’d, ill-bred,
    • And by her wiles alluring led
    • To join the gentle company,
    • Until as tame as they was he:
    • (Up to a certain point, be’t understood!)
    • How fair, and, ah, how good
    • She seem’d to be! I would have drain’d my blood
    • To water e’en her flow’rets sweet.
    • Thou sayest: “I! Who? How? And where?”—
    • Well, to be plain, good Sirs—I am the bear;
    • In a net-apron caught, alas!
    • Chain’d by a silk-thread at her feet.
    • But how this wonder came to pass
    • I’ll tell some day, if ye are curious;
    • Just now, my temper’s much too furious.
    • Ah, when I’m in the corner plac’d,
    • And hear afar the creatures snapping,
    • And see the flipping and the flapping,
    • I turn around
    • With growling sound,
    • And backward run a step in haste,
    • And look around
    • With growling sound,
    • Then run again a step in haste,
    • And to my former post go round.
    • But suddenly my anger grows,
    • A mighty spirit fills my nose,
    • My inward feelings all revolt.
    • A creature such as thou! a dolt!
    • Pipi, a squirrel able nuts to crack!
    • I bristle up my shaggy back,
    • Unused a slave to be.
    • I’m laugh’d at by each trim and upstart tree
    • To scorn. The bowling-green I fly,
    • With neatly-mown and well-kept grass;
    • The box makes faces as I pass,—
    • Into the darkest thicket hasten I,
    • Hoping to ’scape from the ring,
    • Over the palings to spring!
    • Vainly I leap and climb;
    • I feel a leaden spell
    • That pinions me as well;
    • And when I’m fully wearied out in time
    • I lay me down beside some mock cascade,
    • And roll myself half dead, and foam, and cry,
    • And, ah! no Oreads hear my sigh
    • Excepting those of china made!
    • But, ah, with sudden power
    • In all my members blissful feelings reign!
    • ’Tis she who singeth yonder in her bower!
    • I hear that darling, darling voice again.
    • The air is warm, and teems with fragrance clear,
    • Sings she perchance for me alone to hear?
    • I haste, and trample down the shrubs amain;
    • The trees make way, the bushes all retreat,
    • And so—the beast is lying at her feet.
    • She looks at him: “The monster’s droll enough!
    • He’s for a bear too mild,
    • Yet for a dog too wild,
    • So shaggy, clumsy, rough!”
    • Upon his back she gently strokes her foot;
    • He thinks himself in Paradise.
    • What feelings through his seven senses shoot!
    • But she looks on with careless eyes.
    • I lick her soles, and kiss her shoes,
    • As gently as a bear well may;
    • Softly I rise, and with a clever ruse
    • Leap on her knee.—On a propitious day
    • She suffers it; my ears then tickles she,
    • And hits me a hard blow in wanton play;
    • I growl with new-born ecstasy;
    • Then speaks she in a sweet vain jest, I wot:
    • Allons tout doux! eh! la menotte!
    • Et faites serviteur
    • Comme un joli seigneur.
    • Thus she proceeds with sport and glee;
    • Hope fills the oft-deluded beast;
    • Yet if one moment he would lazy be
    • Her fondness all at once hath ceas’d.
    • She doth a flask of balsam-fire possess
    • Sweeter than honey-bees can make,
    • One drop of which she’ll on her finger take,
    • When soften’d by his love and faithfulness,
    • Wherewith her monster’s raging thirst to slake;
    • Then leaves me to myself, and flies at last,
    • And I, unbound, yet prison’d fast
    • By magic, follow in her train,
    • Seek for her, tremble, fly again.
    • The hapless creature thus tormenteth she,
    • Regardless of his pleasure or his woe;
    • Ha! oft half-open’d does she leave the door for me,
    • And sideways looks to learn if I will fly or no.
    • And I—O gods! your hands alone
    • Can end the spell that’s o’er me thrown;
    • Free me, and gratitude my heart will fill;
    • And yet from heaven ye send me down no aid—
    • Not quite in vain doth life my limbs pervade:
    • I feel it! Strength is left me still.
lf0841-01_figure_080

artist: e wagner.

LILI’S MENAGERIE.

lf0841-01_figure_079