The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE MAID OF THE MILL'S TREACHERY.
Such tales find ready credence. "Alas, alas! oh what have I done? Can listening aught avail me? I hear him toward my room hasten on, To hail me. My heart beat high, to myself I said: 'O would that thou hadst never betray'd That night of love to thy mother!'" Alas! I foolishly ventured there, For the cheating silence misled me; Ah, sweetest! let me to thee repair,-- Nor dread me! When suddenly rose a fearful din, Her mad relations came pouring in. My blood still boils in my body! "Oh when will return an hour like this? I pine in silent sadness; I've thrown away my only true bliss With madness. Alas, poor maid! O pity my youth! My brother was then full cruel in troth To treat the loved one so basely!" The swarthy woman then went inside, To the spring in the courtyard yonder; Her eyes from their stain she purified, And,--wonder!-- Her face and eyes were radiant and bright, And the maid of the mill was disclosed to the sight Of the startled and angry stripling! Thou sweetest, fairest, dearly-loved life! Before thine anger I cower; But blows I dread not, nor sharp-edged knife,-- This hour Of sorrow and love to thee I'll sing, And myself before thy feet I'll fling, And either live or die there!
Affection, say, why buried so deep In my heart hast thou lain hidden? By whom hast thou now to awake from thy sleep Been bidden? Ah love, that thou art immortal I see! Nor knavish cunning nor treachery Can destroy thy life so godlike. If still with as fond and heartfelt love, As thou once didst swear, I'm cherish'd, Then nought of the rapture we used to prove Is perish'd. So take the woman so dear to thy breast! In her young and innocent charms be blest, For all are thine from henceforward! Now, sun, sink to rest! Now, sun, arise! Ye stars, be now shining, now darkling! A star of love now gleams in the skies, All-sparkling! As long as the fountain may spring and run, So long will we two be blended in one, Upon each other's bosoms! CANST thou give, oh fair and matchless maiden, 'Neath the shadow of the lindens yonder,-- Where I'd fain one moment cease to wander,-- Food and drink to one so heavy laden? Wouldst thou find refreshment, traveller weary, Bread, ripe fruit and cream to meet thy wishes,-- None but Nature's plain and homely dishes,-- Near the spring may soothe thy wanderings dreary. Dreams of old acquaintance now pass through me, Ne'er-forgotten queen of hours of blisses. Likenesses I've often found, but this is One that quite a marvel seemeth to me!
Travellers often wonder beyond measure, But their wonder soon see cause to smother; Fair and dark are often like each other, Both inspire the mind with equal pleasure. Not now for the first time I surrender To this form, in humble adoration; It was brightest midst the constellation In the hail adorn'd with festal splendour. Be thou joyful that 'tis in my power To complete thy strange and merry story! Silks behind her, full of purple glory, Floated, when thou saw'st her in that hour. No, in truth, thou hast not sung it rightly! Spirits may have told thee all about it; Pearls and gems they spoke of, do not doubt it,-- By her gaze eclipsed,--it gleam'd so brightly! This one thing I certainly collected: That the fair one--(say nought, I entreat thee!) Fondly hoping once again to meet thee, Many a castle in the air erected. By each wind I ceaselessly was driven, Seeking gold and honour, too, to capture! When my wand'rings end, then oh, what rapture, If to find that form again 'tis given! 'Tis the daughter of the race now banish'd That thou seest, not her likeness only; Helen and her brother, glad though lonely, Till this farm of their estate now vanish'd. But the owner surely is not wanting Of these plains, with ev'ry beauty teeming?
Verdant fields, broad meads, and pastures gleaming, Gushing springs, all heav'nly and enchanting. Thou must hunt the world through, wouldst thou find him!-- We have wealth enough in our possession, And intend to purchase the succession, When the good man leaves the world behind him. I have learnt the owner's own condition, And, fair maiden, thou indeed canst buy it; But the cost is great, I won't deny it,-- Helen is the price,--with thy permission! Did then fate and rank keep us asunder, And must Love take this road, and no other? Yonder comes my dear and trusty brother; What will he say to it all, I wonder?
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.