The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
RINALDO.
Her only we mean; But all fly away, As soon as she's seen,-- The beauteous young maiden, With graces so rife, Then lily and rose In wreaths are entwining; In dancing combining, Each zephyr that blows Its brother is greeting, All flying and meeting, With balsam full laden, When waken'd to life. No! no longer may we wait; Rouse him from his vision straight! Show the adamantine shield! Woe! what form is here reveal'd! 'Twill disclose the cheat to thee. Am I doom'd myself to see Thus degraded evermore? Courage take, and all is o'er. Be it so! I'll take fresh heart, From the spot beloved depart, Leave Armida once again,-- Come then! here no more remain. Yes, 'tis well! no more remain. Away then! let's fly O'er the zephyr-kiss'd ocean! The soul-lighted eye Sees armies in motion, See proud banners wave O'er the dust-sprinkled course. From his forefathers brave Draws the hero new force. With sorrow laden, Within this valley's All-silent alleys The fairest maiden Again I see. Twice can this be? What! shall I hear it, And not have spirit To ease her pains? Unworthy chains? And now I've see her, Alas! how changed! With cold demeanour. And looks estranged, With ghostly tread,-- All hope is fled, Yes, fled for ever. The lightnings quiver, Each palace falls; The godlike halls, Each joyous hour Of spirit-power, With love's sweet day All fade away!
Yes, fade away! Already are heard The prayers of the pious. Why longer deny us? The favouring zephyr Forbids all delay. Away, then! away! With heart sadly stirr'd, Your command I receive; Ye force me to leave. Unkind is the zephyr,-- Oh, wherefore not stay? Away, then! away! SWEET smiles the May! The forest gay From frost and ice is freed; No snow is found, Glad songs resound Across the verdant mead. Upon the height The snow lies light, Yet thither now we go, There to extol our Father's name, Whom we for ages know. Amid the smoke shall gleam the flame; Thus pure the heart will grow. Amid the smoke shall gleam the flame; Extol we now our Father's name, Whom we for ages know! Up, up, then, let us go! Would ye, then, so rashly act? Would ye instant death attract? Know ye not the cruel threats Of the victors we obey? Round about are placed their nets In the sinful heathen's way. Ah! upon the lofty wall Wife and children slaughter they; And we all Hasten to a certain fall. Ay, upon the camp's high wall All our children loved they slay. 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.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.