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We six-together then began A banquet to consume, When lo! OH, prophetic bird so bright, Blossom-songster, cuckoo hight! In the fairest time of year, Dearest bird, oh! Hearest thou? A loving pair Fain would to the altar fare; Yes! Say, how long must they still wait? Silent yet! Only two years patient be! But if we ourselves please here, Will pa-pa-papas appear? Ever, ever, cuck-oo, cuck-oo, coo! Coo cuck-oo, coo cuck-oo, Coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo, coo!

Life is one continued feast— If we keep no score, at least. If now we together dwell, Will true love remain as well? Gracefully ad infinitum. Then gladly glow to-night, And let our hearts combine! Who in our circle lives, And is not happy there? We know no grief or pain, Though all things fall and rise; Long may we thus remain!

Eternal be our ties! Should the verdure give me joy? Fast begin to ripen these, And the rest already shoot. Be then the beginning found With the end in unison, Swifter than the forms around Are themselves now fleeting on! Then once more be merry, and banish all woes! To-day still, as yesterday, glimmers the star; Take care from all heads that hang down to keep far, And make but the future thine own. IN this noble ring to-day Let my warning shame ye!

Listen to my solemn voice,— Seldom does it name ye. Many a thing have ye intended, Many a thing have badly ended, And now I must blame ye. At some moment in our lives We must all repent us! So confess, with pious trust, All your sins momentous! Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,— Children of wisdom,—remember the word!

Play then the fool with the fool, willy-nilly,— Children of wisdom,—remember the world! The nimble lads upon us wait, No sleep the hostess takes; Her shift is torn in pieces straight,— What wondrous lint it makes! On good authority the king Hears how we love the fight, And bids them cross and ribbon bring, Our coat and breast to dight.

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Johnny, go and look around! Are they hither wending? Pretty girls I hope to see, Dear and guileless misses, Ignorant how sweet it is Giving tender kisses. Not a single one appears, None seem this way posting. All the soup boils fast away, Joints are over-roasting. Ah, I fear that we have been Rather too unbending! Johnny, tell me what you think! None are hither wending. Johnny, run and quickly bring Other guests to me now! Johnny, open all the doors: All are hither wending! Let the wine unsparing run! Wilt thou swell our merry chorus? Hast thou all thy duty done? If her neck she there was stooping, He must here needs pull his hair.

Surely we for wine may languish! Let the bumper then go round! Edition: current; Page: [ 55 ] Solo. Why, young orphan, all this wailing? Brief must be my explanation, For I really have done nought. Each should thus make proclamation Of what he did well to-day! Let it be our precept ever To admit no waverer here! For to act the good endeavor, None but rascals meek appear. No one now for wine shall languish! Wille wo wo wo! Wito hu! I shot, one day, a cat in a ditch— The dear black cat of Anna the witch; Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down, Seven women they were, from out of the town.

Wille wau wau wau! From Wilhelm Meister. MY grief no mortals know, Except the yearning! My grief no mortals know, Except the yearning! WHO gives himself to solitude, Soon lonely will remain; Each lives, each loves in joyous mood, And leaves him to his pain. Ah, when I find relief Within the tomb so lonely, Will rest be met with only! As of old to man a wife As his better half was given, So the night is half our life, And the fairest under heaven.

Edition: current; Page: [ none ]. Oh, let the song re-echo here, Within our festal halls! All hail, ye beauteous dames! What heavenly sight! Or give it to thy chancellor there; With other burdens he may bear This one more golden burden. We children are here in the hall all alone, The portals we straightway will bar. Our mother is praying, our father is gone To the forest, on wolves to make war. What figure is that in his arms one perceives, As the Count quits the gateway by stealth? What bears he along in his flight? The father he sees her, what rapture he feels! How worthy she seems of the race whence she springs, How noble and fair to the sight!

He blesses the children: a knocking they hear, The father it is! Straight seize him, ye vassals of steel! To the dungeon most deep, with the fool-hardy knave!

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Oh, thou beggarly crew! Eclipsing my star, once so bright! This castle is mine! The hour her soul its farewell took, The boy was sad, with terror shook, Then sprang upon his charger. When lo! WHO rides there so late through the night dark and drear? Dost see not the Erl-King, with crown and with train? Full many a game I will play there with thee; On my strand, lovely flowers their blossoms unfold, My mother shall grace thee with garments of gold. Thy fellow-lodger, and children three! The trembling woman! Oh, whither?

Wilt venture, thou rash one, the billows to brave? Fair Susan returns by the way she had tried, The waves roar around, but she turns not aside; She reaches the mound, and the neighbor straight, But for her and the children, alas, too late! Fair Susan still stands there, as bright as a star, But, alas! The foaming waters around her roar, To save her, no bark pushes off from the shore. Her gaze once again she lifts up to Heaven, Then gently away by the flood she is driven. No dam, no plain! Shines not with twofold charms their face, When rising from the wave?

Song of the Imprisoned Count. Long the doubtful fight continues, Victory then for Curt declares; Conqueror, though with wearied sinews, Forward on his road he fares. Of the wealth thy storehouse reckons, Hast thou nought to give thy child! But he hears his servants blowing, And bethinks him of his bride; And ere long, while onward going, Chances past a fair to ride; In the booths he forthwith buys him For his mistress many a pledge; But, alas! Edition: current; Page: [ 69 ] And the courts of justice duly Send the knight to prison straight.

Oh, accursed story, truly! For a hero, what a fate!

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe: Selected full-text books and articles

Can my patience such things weather? Great is my perplexity. Women, debts and foes together,— Ah, no knight escapes scot free! THE tale of the Count our glad song shall record Who had in this castle his dwelling, Where now ye are feasting the new-married lord, His grandson of whom we are telling. The winds through the chambers at liberty roam, And blow through the windows at will. Then quick, while the moon shines so clear, To bed on the straw, without fear. The rat, an he likes it, may rattle away! Ay, had he but crumbs there outspread! But lo!

Then all at full gallop make haste to advance, Each chooses his place in the hall; With whirling and waltzing, and light joyous dance, They begin with their sweethearts the ball. The fife and the fiddle all merrily sound, They twine, and they glide, and with nimbleness bound, They whisper, and chatter, and clatter around; The Count on the scene casts his eye, And seems in a fever to lie.

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For trumpets, and singing, and shouts without end On the bridal-train, chariots and horsemen attend, They come and appear, and they bow and they bend, In merry and countless array. Thus was it, thus is it to-day. And to end my woes at last, Treasure-seeking forth I sped. Then, to learned precepts true, Dug to find some treasure old, In the place my art foretold: Black and stormy was the night.

Preparation was in vain. Sudden all was lighted up With the lustre of a cup That a beauteous boy upheld. Guests by night, and toil by day! Weeks laborious, feast-days gay! Be thy future magic-word! AS I calmly sat and span, Toiling with all zeal, Lo! Then I bear the thread at length Through the heat, to bleach; But, alas, I scarce have strength To the pool to reach. I know him well, and he knows me well, And to God, too, all is known.

Sir Parson and Sir Bailiff, again, I pray you, leave me in peace! SAY, sparkling streamlet, whither thou Art going! With joyous mien thy waters now Are flowing. Why seek the vale so hastily? Attend for once, and answer me! She opes the shutters soon as light Is gleaming; And comes to bathe her features bright And beaming.

If she in water can inflame Such ardor, Surely, then, flesh and blood to tame Is harder. When once is seen her beauteous face, One ever longs her steps to trace. Edition: current; Page: [ 75 ] Youth. Like others, then, can grief, poor brook, Oppress thee? With her sweet loving glance, oh, say, Can she thy flowing current stay? Why curse his orisons in wrath, Across those heights beclad with snow? Could I, when basking in her smile, Dream of the treason in her breast?

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  • Why should they, madmen-like, begin To fall upon a guiltless youth? For he who such a prize would win, Far nimbler needs must be, in truth. And tried my cloak besides to steal. How strange that any house so small So many rascals could conceal! I saw the treacherous maid once more, And she was still, alas, so fair! Leave it to those of quality, Their humble worshippers to pillage!

    AWAY, thou swarthy witch! Go forth From out my house, I tell thee! Or else I needs must, in my wrath, Expel thee! Of selfishness sing and treacherous lies, Of murder and thievish plunder! Such actions false will cause no surprise, Or wonder. When they share their booty, both clothes and purse,— As bad as you gypsies, and even worse, Such tales find ready credence. Can listening aught avail me? I hear him toward my room hasten on, To hail me.

    When suddenly rose a fearful din, Her mad relations came pouring in; My blood still boils in my body! Alas, poor maid! O pity my youth! The swarthy woman then went inside, To the spring in the courtyard yonder; Her eyes from their stain she purified, And,—wonder! The Maid of the Mill. Affection, say, why buried so deep In my heart hast thou lain hidden? By whom hast thou now to awake from thy sleep Been bidden? Ah, love, that thou art immortal I see!

    Nor knavish cunning nor treachery Can destroy thy life so godlike. So take the woman so dear to thy breast! Now, sun, sink to rest! Now, sun, arise! Ye stars, be now shining, now darkling! A star of love now gleams in the skies, All-sparkling! Travellers often wonder beyond measure, But their wonder soon see cause to smother; Fair and dark are often like each other, Both inspire the mind with equal pleasure. No, in truth, thou hast not sung it rightly! This one thing I certainly collected: That the fair one— say nought, I entreat thee!

    Fondly hoping once again to meet thee, Many a castle in the air erected. By each wind I ceaselessly was driven, Seeking gold and honor, too, to capture! Did then fate and rank keep us asunder, And must Love take this road, and no other? Yonder comes my dear and trusty brother; What will he say to it all, I wonder? From hunting they come, and their thirst they would still, So leave them to swallow as much as they will, And the Evil Ones then will be gracious. Though three times and four times they quaff the good cheer, The pitchers remain still unemptied.

    I AM now,—what joy to hear it! Wander, wander Onward lightly, So that rightly Flow the torrent, And with teeming waters yonder In the bath discharge its current! On two legs now stand, With a head on top; Waterpail in hand, Haste, and do not stop! Back he then repairs; See how swells the tide! How each pail he bears Straightway is supplied!

    Stop, for, lo! All the measure Of thy treasure Now is right! I forget the word of might. Ah, the word whose sound can straight Make him what he was before! Edition: current; Page: [ 82 ] Ah, he runs with nimble gait! Would thou wert a broom once more! Now no longer Can I bear him; I will snare him, Knavish sprite! Ah, my terror waxes stronger! What a look! Oh, thou villain child of hell! Be thou still, I pray, As thou wert at first! Will enough Never please thee? I will seize thee, Hold thee fast, And thy nimble wood so tough, With my sharp axe split at last. See, once more he hastens back!

    Now, oh, Cobold, thou shalt catch it! I will rush upon his track; Crashing on him falls my hatchet.

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    • Edition: current; Page: [ 83 ] Bravely done, indeed! Woe, oh, woe! Both the parts, Quick as darts, Stand on end, Servants of my dreaded foe! Oh, ye gods, protection send! And they run! Lord and master, hear me call! Son and daughter, they Had been wont to say Should thereafter bride and bridegroom be. For a newborn creed, Like some loathsome weed, Love and truth to root out oft will threat.

      Father, daughter, all had gone to rest, And the mother only watches late; She receives with courtesy the guest, And conducts him to the room of state. Wine and food are brought, Ere by him besought; Bidding him good-night, she leaves him straight. But she, at his sight, Lifts her hand so white, And appears as though full sore afraid.

      On thy soft couch now Slumber calmly thou! Thou art pale with fear! Rapture now can never smile on me; For the fatal step, alas! Victims slay they here, Neither lamb nor steer, But the altars reek with human gore. Pledge to me thy troth! When I in the silent cloister pine, Ah, within her arms remember me!

      Sweetest, here then stay, And without delay Hold we now our wedding-feast alone! For to taste the bread There before them spread, Nought he spoke could make the maid incline. Love to crown the silent feast he sought, Ah! From his prayer she shrinks, Till at length he sinks On the bed and weeps without control. Breath for breath, and kiss! Overflow of bliss! Sight of horror! Do I waken only to despair?

      It contents not thee To have driven me An untimely shroud of death to wear? View it to thy sorrow! An Indian Legend. All proceed from thee alone; Thou art he who judgeth right! Dost thou none but Brahmins own? Do but Rajahs come from thee? None but those of high estate? Didst not thou the ape create, Aye, and even such as we? We are not of noble kind, For with woe our lot is rife; And what others deadly find Is our only source of life. Now that, Lord, this prayer is said, As thy child acknowledge me; Or let one be born instead, Who may link me on to thee! Didst not thou a Bayadere As a goddess heavenward raise?

      And we too, to swell thy praise, Such a miracle would hear. Daily from the sacred river Brings she back refreshment precious;— But where is the pail and pitcher? She of neither stands in need. For with pure heart, hands unsullied, She the water lifts, and rolls it To a wondrous ball of crystal; This she bears with gladsome bosom, Modestly, with graceful motion, To her husband in the house. Arms drop down, and footsteps stumble, Can this be the pathway homewards? Shall she fly, or shall she tarry? Can she think, when thought and counsel, When assistance, all are lost?

      What resistance could she offer? What excuses could she proffer, Guilty, knowing not her guilt? Oh, father! For upon the sword it dries not, Like the blood of the delinquent; Fresh it flows, as from the wound. Unjust never was my father, Tell me what he now hath done. What her crime? What did she? Now, the sword! Through the flames the wife is able Her beloved spouse to follow, And his dear and only mother Through the sword her faithful son. Then a giant form uprises. To her body I am grafted By thy hand for endless ages; Wise in counsel, wild in action, I shall be amongst the gods. And so I, the Brahmin woman, With my head in heaven reclining, Must experience, as a Pariah, The debasing power of earth.

      Comfort him! But my thoughts, my inmost feelings— Those a secret shall remain. A Druid. The forest gay From frost and ice is freed; No snow is found, Glad songs resound Across the verdant mead. Amid the smoke shall gleam the flame; Thus pure the heart will grow. The Druids. Up, up, then, let us go! One of the People.

      Would ye, then, so rashly act? Would ye instant death attract? Know ye not the cruel threats Of the victors we obey? Chorus of Women. Ah, what cruel victors they! And we all Hasten to a certain fall. Who fears to-day His rites to pay, Deserves his chains to wear. This wood take we, And straight a pile prepare! With courage fresh, then, let us haste Our duties to fulfil. Chorus of Watchers. Ye valiant watchers, now divide Your numbers through the forest wide, And see that all is still, While they their rites fulfil.

      A Watcher. Let us, in a cunning wise, Yon dull Christian priests surprise! Come with prong, and come with fork, Raise a wild and rattling sound Through the livelong night, and prowl All the rocky passes round. Screech-owl, owl, Join in chorus with our howl! Come with prong, and come with fork Like the devil of their talk, And with wildly rattling sound, Prowl the desert rocks around!

      As from the smoke is freed the blaze, So let our faith burn bright! Edition: current; Page: [ 93 ] A Christian Watcher. Comrades, quick! Dragon-women, men-wolf swarms, On in quick succession going! Let us, let us haste to fly! Wilder yet the sounds are growing, And the arch-fiend roars on high; From the ground Hellish vapors rise around.

      Chorus of Christian Watchers. Terrible enchanted forms, Dragon-women, men-wolf swarms! Wilder yet the sounds are growing! See, the arch-fiend comes, all-glowing! From the ground Hellish vapors rise around. Chorus of Druids. WHAT is yonder white thing in the forest? Is it snow, or can it swans perchance be? He within is lying, sorely wounded; To him come his mother and his sister; Bashfully his wife delays to come there.

      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. But she from the suckling in the cradle Could not tear herself, so deep her sorrow! Eat thy supper with thy darling children! Kindly be to the people, as when thou still wert a mortal, Perfecting that as a god, which thou didst fail in, as man. In each of thine hands is an hourglass! What, O thou frivolous god! Slowly run from [Editor: illegible word] the hours of lovers when parted; While through the other they rush swiftly, as soon as they meet.

      Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction, And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves. Yet to thee only I lend a voice, as a Muse from the people Chooseth one for herself, kissing his lips as a friend. THOU dost complain of woman for changing from one to another?

      Censure her not: for she seeks one who will constant remain. Edition: current; Page: [ 99 ] Quickly and noisily flowing, the changeful-surface distorted Ever her moving form; the goddess departed in anger. Wilt thou not view, then, the truth, in my mirror so clearly depicted? For on a sudden Ares burst in, with fury decisive, Dashing in twain the gold toy, brandishing wildly his sword. Then from their union arose a new, a more beauteous Amor, Who from his father his wit, grace from his mother derives.

      Silver-gray is the early snow to-day on thy summit, Through the tempestuous night streaming fast over thy brow. Youth, alas, throughout life as closely to age is united As, in some changeable dream, yesterday blends with to-day.

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      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. DO not repent, mine own love, that thou so soon didst surrender! Trust me, I deem thee not bold! Manifold workings the darts of Amor possess; some but scratching, Yet with insidious effect, poison the bosom for years. Thus were the sons of Mars begotten! The artist is glad in his workshop, When a Pantheon it seems round him forever to bring. AMOR is ever a rogue, and all who believe him are cheated!

      Hast thou a mind again to form? I, the teacher, am ever young, and love all the youthful, Love not the subtle and old. Mother, observe what I say! 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. What mortal, alas! Now he deceitfully keeps his word, gives food for my numbers, But, while he does so, alas! 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.

      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 Edition: current; Page: [ none ] Edition: current; Page: [ ] Once more open. Click on an option below to access. Log out of ReadCube. If you do not receive an email within 10 minutes, your email address may not be registered, and you may need to create a new Wiley Online Library account.

      If the address matches an existing account you will receive an email with instructions to retrieve your username. Roger Paulin Search for more papers by this author. Tools Request permission Export citation Add to favorites Track citation. Share Give access Share full text access.

      Share full text access. Please review our Terms and Conditions of Use and check box below to share full-text version of article. Get access to the full version of this article. View access options below. You previously purchased this article through ReadCube. Rather than representing the Volk, she is the aristocratic-bourgeois definition of the nation, that of the historically and newly powerful:.

      They also seek solace from the politics and protocols of the court, and do so in the most medieval of noble traditions and privileges, the hunt. It marks the end of her purity as well as the conclusion of the idyllic vision of an ancient chivalric French past. Her paradise gone, Eugenie is nevertheless a product of such idealized concepts and thus remains an outsider, a threat to the status quo of the contemporary court life.

      Indeed, Wilhelm Emrich sees this as the beginning of the end of modern civilization. Eugenie poses a threat to the Graf from the outset and is thus in peril by her very existence, regardless of what she may do. The preemptive act of wearing the jewelry does however signal her fall from the ideal as complete. The Schein und Sein nature is apparent in the many secret agendas are revealed in the cabal against Eugenie. The members of the court are seen as interchangeable and thus definable only in terms of their hierarchical relationship to one another.

      They are valueless without the favor of a superior or their manipulative power, granted by possession not ideal, governed by caprice not moral judgement. Thus Goethe allows no character a proper name save his main symbol, Eugenie. She is ultimately the only figure able to make any attempt at existential choice, and in doing so, creates a new value system, and new era. Her abduction and the tale of her death is the attempt of the powers-that-be to protect the status quo. Here it is the act of survival, the last choice.

      That Goethe accuses the aristocracy of intolerable corruption is quite clear. This is apparent in the circumstances by which the heroine steps into the neutralizing role of bourgeois wife: She asks of her groom:.

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      Here, in the problematic emulation of that prior solution, the aristocracy is saved in essence, if not in class. Eugenie and France have proven this.