C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Harper’s Songs
By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832)
“W
Across the portal sounding?
Let’s have the music in our hall,
Back from its roof rebounding.”
So spoke the king: the henchman flies;
His answer heard, the monarch cries,
“Bring in that ancient minstrel.”
Each lovely dame, I greet you!
What glittering stars salute my sight!
What heart unmoved may meet you!
Such lordly pomp is not for me,
Far other scenes my eyes must see:
Yet deign to list my harping.”
A thrilling strain he raises;
Each warrior hears with glowing heart
And on his loved one gazes.
The king, who liked his playing well,
Commands, for such a kindly spell,
A golden chain be given him.
Thy boldest knight may wear it,
Who ’cross the battle’s purple sea
On lion breast may bear it;
Or let it be thy chancellor’s prize,
Amid his heaps to feast his eyes,—
Its yellow glance will please him.
That on the green bough dwelleth;
A rich reward his music brings,
As from his throat it swelleth:
Yet might I ask, I’d ask of thine
One sparkling draught of purest wine
To drink it here before you.”
“O draught of sweetest savor!
O happy house, where such a cup
Is thought a little favor!
If well you fare, remember me,
And thank kind Heaven, from envy free,
As now for this I thank you.”
W
Who never spent the darksome hours
Weeping and watching for the morrow,—
He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.
To guilt ye let us heedless go,
Then leave repentance fierce to wring us;
A moment’s guilt, an age of woe!