The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
FIRST ODE.
TRANSPLANT the beauteous tree! Gardener, it gives me pain; A happier resting-place Its trunk deserved. Yet the strength of its nature To Earth's exhausting avarice, To Air's destructive inroads, An antidote opposed. See how it in springtime Coins its pale green leaves! Their orange-fragrance Poisons each flyblow straight. The caterpillar's tooth Is blunted by them; With silv'ry hues they gleam In the bright sunshine, Its twigs the maiden Fain would twine in Her bridal-garland; Youths its fruit are seeking. See, the autumn cometh! The caterpillar Sighs to the crafty spider,-- Sighs that the tree will not fade. Hov'ring thither From out her yew-tree dwelling, The gaudy foe advances Against the kindly tree, And cannot hurt it, But the more artful one Defiles with nauseous venom Its silver leaves; And sees with triumph How the maiden shudders, The youth, how mourns he, On passing by. Transplant the beauteous tree! Gardener, it gives me pain; Tree, thank the gardener Who moves thee hence! THOU go'st! I murmur-- Go! let me murmur. Oh, worthy man, Fly from this land! Deadly marshes, Steaming mists of October Here interweave their currents, Blending for ever. Noisome insects Here are engender'd; Fatal darkness Veils their malice. The fiery-tongued serpent, Hard by the sedgy bank, Stretches his pamper'd body, Caress'd by the sun's bright beams. Tempt no gentle night-rambles Under the moon's cold twilight! Loathsome toads hold their meetings Yonder at every crossway. Injuring not, Fear will they cause thee. Oh, worthy man, Fly from this land!
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