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THE WANDERER. - 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.

About Liberty Fund:

Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals.


THE WANDERER.

    • Wanderer.
    • YOUNG woman, may God bless thee,
    • Thee and the sucking infant
    • Upon thy breast!
    • Let me, ’gainst this rocky wall,
    • ’Neath the elm tree’s shadow,
    • Lay aside my burden,
    • Near thee take my rest.
    • Woman.
    • What vocation leads thee,
    • While the day is burning,
    • Up this dusty path?
    • Bring’st thou goods from out the town
    • Round the country?
    • Smil’st thou, stranger,
    • At my question?
    • Wanderer.
    • From the town no goods I bring.
    • Cool is now the evening;
    • Show to me the fountain
    • Whence thou drinkest,
    • Woman young and kind!
    • Woman.
    • Up the rocky pathway mount;
    • Go thou first! Across the thicket
    • Leads the pathway tow’rd the cottage
    • That I live in,
    • To the fountain
    • Whence I drink.
    • Wanderer.
    • Signs of man’s arranging hand
    • See I ’mid the trees!
    • Not by thee these stones were join’d,
    • Nature, who so freely scatterest!
    • Woman.
    • Up, still up!
    • Wanderer.
    • Lo, a mossy architrave is here!
    • I discern thee, fashioning spirit!
    • On the stone thou hast impress’d thy seal.
    • Woman.
    • Onward, stranger!
    • Wanderer.
    • Over an inscription am I treading!
    • ’Tis effaced!
    • Ye are seen no longer,
    • Words so deeply graven,
    • Who your master’s true devotion
    • Should have shown to thousand grandsons!
    • Woman.
    • At these stones, why
    • Start’st thou, stranger?
    • Many stones are lying yonder
    • Round my cottage.
    • Wanderer.
    • Yonder?
    • Woman.
    • Through the thicket,
    • Turning to the left,
    • Here!
    • Wanderer.
    • Ye Muses and ye Graces!
    • Woman.
    • This, then, is my cottage.
    • Wanderer.
    • ’Tis a ruin’d temple!
    • Woman.
    • Just below it, see,
    • Springs the fountain
    • Whence I drink.
    • Wanderer.
    • Thou dost hover
    • O’er thy grave, all glowing,
    • Genius! while upon thee
    • Hath thy masterpiece
    • Fallen crumbling,
    • Thou Immortal One!
    • Woman.
    • Stay, a cup I’ll fetch thee
    • Whence to drink.
    • Wanderer.
    • Ivy circles thy slender
    • Form so graceful and godlike.
    • How ye rise on high
    • From the ruins,
    • Column-pair!
    • And thou, their lonely sister yonder,—
    • How thou,
    • Dusky moss upon thy sacred head,—
    • Lookest down in mournful majesty
    • On thy brethren’s figures
    • Lying scatter’d
    • At thy feet!
    • In the shadow of the bramble
    • Earth and rubbish veil them,
    • Lofty grass is waving o’er them!
    • Is it thus thou, Nature, prizest
    • Thy great masterpiece’s masterpiece?
    • Carelessly destroyest thou
    • Thine own sanctuary,
    • Sowing thistles there?
    • Woman.
    • How the infant sleeps!
    • Wilt thou rest thee in the cottage,
    • Stranger? Would’st thou rather
    • In the open air still linger?
    • Now ’tis cool! take thou the child
    • While I go and draw some water.
    • Sleep on, darling! sleep!
    • Wanderer.
    • Sweet is thy repose!
    • How, with heaven-born health imbued,
    • Peacefully he slumbers!
    • O thou, born among the ruins
    • Spread by great antiquity,
    • On thee rest her spirit!
    • He whom it encircles
    • Will, in godlike consciousness,
    • Ev’ry day enjoy.
    • Full of germ, unfold,
    • As the smiling springtime’s
    • Fairest charm,
    • Outshining all thy fellows!
    • And when the blossom’s husk is faded,
    • May the full fruit shoot forth
    • From out thy breast,
    • And ripen in the sunshine!
    • Woman.
    • God bless him!—Is he sleeping still?
    • To the fresh draught I naught can add,
    • Saving a crust of bread for thee to eat.
    • Wanderer.
    • I thank thee well.
    • How fair the verdure all around!
    • How green!
    • Woman.
    • My husband soon
    • Will home return
    • From labor. Tarry, tarry, man,
    • And with us eat our evening meal.
    • Wanderer.
    • Is’t here ye dwell?
    • Woman.
    • Yonder, within those walls we live.
    • My father ’twas who built the cottage
    • Of tiles and stones from out the ruins.
    • ’Tis here we dwell.
    • He gave me to a husbandman,
    • And in our arms expir’d.—
    • Hast thou been sleeping, dearest heart?
    • How lively, and how full of play!
    • Sweet rogue!
    • Wanderer.
    • Nature, thou ever budding one,
    • Thou formest each for life’s enjoyments,
    • And, like a mother, all thy children dear,
    • Blessest with that sweet heritage,—a home!
    • The swallow builds the cornice round,
    • Unconscious of the beauties
    • She plasters up.
    • The caterpillar spins around the bough,
    • To make her brood a winter house;
    • And thou dost patch, between antiquity’s
    • Most glorious relics,
    • For thy mean use,
    • O man, an humble cot,—
    • Enjoyest e’en ’mid tombs!—
    • Farewell, thou happy woman!
    • Woman.
    • Thou wilt not stay, then?
    • Wanderer.
    • May God preserve thee,
    • And bless thy boy!
    • Woman.
    • A happy journey!
    • Wanderer.
    • Whither conducts the path
    • Across yon hill?
    • Woman.
    • To Cuma.
    • Wanderer.
    • How far from hence?
    • Woman.
    • ’Tis full three miles.
    • Wanderer.
    • Farewell!
    • O Nature, guide me on my way!
    • The wandering stranger guide,
    • Who o’er the tombs
    • Of holy bygone times
    • Is passing,
    • To a kind sheltering place,
    • From North winds safe,
    • And where a poplar grove
    • Shuts out the noontide ray!
    • And when I come
    • Home to my cot
    • At evening,
    • Illumin’d by the setting sun,
    • Let me embrace a wife like this,
    • Her infant in her arms!
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