The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
AN INDIAN LEGEND.
And her screams through air resound: "I must seek my spouse so dear, E'en if in the grave he's bound. Shall those limbs of grace divine Fall to ashes in my sight? Mine he was! Yes, only mine! Ah, one single blissful night!" The priests chaunt in chorus: "We bear out the old, When long they've been weary, and late they've grown cold: We bear out the young, too, so thoughtless and light. "To thy priests' commands give ear! This one was thy husband ne'er; Live still as a Bayadere, And no duty thou need'st share. To deaths silent realms from life, None but shades attend man's frame, With the husband, none but wife,-- That is duty, that is fame. Ye trumpets, your sacred lament haste to raise Oh, welcome, ye gods, the bright lustre of days! Oh, welcome to heaven the youth from the flame!" Thus increased her torments are By the cruel, heartless quire; And with arms outstretching far Leaps she on the glowing pyre. But the youth divine outsprings From the flame with heav'nly grace, And on high his flight he wings, While his arms his love embrace. In the sinner repentant the Godhead feels joy; Immortals delight thus their might to employ. Lost children to raise to a heavenly place.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.