The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
1775.* ----- THE MUSES' SON.
Only to fade?" With all its roots I dug it with care, And took it home To my garden fair. In silent corner Soon it was set; There grows it ever, There blooms it yet. A FAIR bell-flower Sprang tip from the ground; And early its fragrance It shed all around; A bee came thither And sipp'd from its bell; That they for each other Were made, we see well. COME to the dance with me, come with me, fair one! Dances a feast-day like this may well crown. If thou my sweetheart art not, thou canst be so, But if thou wilt not, we still will dance on. Come to the dance with me, come with me, fair one! Dances a feast-day like this may well crown. Loved one, without thee, what then would all feast be? Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance? If thou my sweetheart wert not, I would dance not. If thou art still so, all life is one feast. Loved one, without thee, what then would all feasts be? Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance? Let them but love, then, and leave us the dancing! Languishing love cannot bear the glad dance. Let us whirl round in the waltz's gay measure, And let them steal to the dim-lighted wood. Let them but love, then, and leave us the dancing!
Languishing love cannot bear the glad dance. Let them whirl round, then, and leave us to wander! Wand'ring to love is a heavenly dance. Cupid, the near one, o'erhears their deriding, Vengeance takes suddenly, vengeance takes soon. Let them whirl round, then, and leave us to wander! Wand'ring to love is a heavenly dance. My neighbour's curtain, well I see, Is moving to and fin. No doubt she's list'ning eagerly, If I'm at home or no. And if the jealous grudge I bore And openly confess'd, Is nourish'd by me as before, Within my inmost breast. Alas! no fancies such as these E'er cross'd the dear child's thoughts. I see 'tis but the ev'ning breeze That with the curtain sports.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.