Front Page Titles (by Subject) SCENE IV. - Goethe's Works, vol. 2 (Faust 1 & 2, Egmont, Natural Daughter, Sorrows of Young Werther)
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SCENE IV. - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Goethe’s Works, vol. 2 (Faust 1 & 2, Egmont, Natural Daughter, Sorrows of Young Werther) 
Goethe’s Works, illustrated by the best German artists, 5 vols. (Philadelphia: G. Barrie, 1885). Vol. 2.
Part of: Goethe’s Works, 5 vols.
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Upon thy will I know my happiness,
My misery depend. Oh, be persuaded!
Oh, let thy hard heart yield! Send me not hence.
It lies with thee to guide our future course.
Thou hast a choice. I only can obey
The ruling hand; it hurls me swift away.
And dost thou call it choice when opposite
The stronghold of impossibility
The unavoidable arrays itself?
The alliance can be made, the ban be broken.
There are things that a noble cannot do.
This worthy man might well inspire thy favor.
If thou would’st bring me back to better fortune
I would reward his kindness boundlessly.
Oh, give him now the only boon he asks,
And lead him by thy hand to higher levels.
If virtue, if desert but slowly forward
The man of capability, if he,
With calm renunciation, scarcely notic’d,
Devotes himself to others, striving upwards,
A noble wife will lead him to his goal.
Let no man look below him for a spouse.
Too lofty his ambition cannot be.
If he succeeds to woo a high-born lady
The path of life will smooth before his steps.
The meaning of thy false, confusing words
I disentangle from thy lying speech.
The opposite I know too well is true.
The husband irresistibly compels
The wife to take the exclusive course he follows.
Once there, forever there; she cannot choose
By force inherent ways dissimilar.
From low condition he will lift her up;
And so from higher spheres he snares her down;
Her former self is vanish’d quite away,
Extinguish’d every trace of days departed.
What she has won who now can tear from her?
And who can give her back what she has lost?
And thus thou dost pronounce the fatal sentence.
Yet full of hope I look for rescue still.
When he who loves despairs how canst thou hope?
A man less passionate would counsel better.
Of choice and counsel let no more be said;
Thou driv’st me into exile: thou must follow.
Oh, would that yet once more before my eyes
Thou would’st appear with gentle friendliness,
As always from the earliest days I saw thee.
With not more sweet, benevolent glance than thine,
The sun whose glory animates all life,
The bright moon with its soft inspiring rays,
Pour’d forth their heavenly influence on my mind.
What boldest wish was not anticipated?
What was to fear? The safeguard was prepar’d.
And though my mother held herself aloof
And did not show her favor to her child
Thou camest to me in a mother’s place,
Consoling me with limitless affection.
And art thou now so chang’d? Thou seemest
In outward guise the same old loving friend.
But inwardly thy heart has wholly chang’d.
It still is thou whom I so often ask’d
For favors small and great, never denied.
The childlike sentiment of wonted reverence
It prompts me now to ask the greatest boon.
And could it lower me to beg thee now
On bended knee, as though before my father,
As though before my King, my God, for safety?
It seems to me that in thy present mood
Thou mockest me, and falsehood moves me not.
[She roughly liftsEugenieto her feet.
A tone so harsh, such inconsiderate treatment,
Must I endure to suffer at thy hands?
And dost thou fright away my dream so rudely?
In clearest light I see my destiny.
’Twas not my fault, ’twas not the strife of party,
It was my brother’s guile that drove me hither;
And thou, a sworn conspirator with him,
Compellest me to suffer lifelong exile.
Thy error drives thee into thoughts unjust.
What will thy brother scheme to do against thee?
He has the will perchance but not the power.
As he desires, so let it be. I will not
In those far-distant hopeless deserts languish.
A living people move around me here,
A loving people, in whose hearts the name
Of father spoken by a child is sweet.
I will demand their aid. A mighty shout
Would summon rescuers from the brawny rabble.
The brawny rabble thou hast never known.
They stare and wonder and procrastinate
While what is done is done. And if they move
Failure attends their planless enterprise.
Thou shalt not with thy chilling word destroy
My faith, as thou hast ruin’d my happiness.
Down in the city life shall give me life;
There where the billowing throngs stream ceaselessly,
Where every heart contented with its pittance
Will open to the touch of sympathy—
Thou shalt not keep me back. I’ll shout aloud,
Impetuously mixing in the throng,
And blazon forth the frightful deed of crime
Which fills my soul with poignant pangs of fear.