The Poems of Goethe, Translated in the Original Metres · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
THE PRIVILEGED MEN.
AFTER THE BATTLE OF BADE, BENEATH THE CANOPY OF HEAVEN. [This battle was fought in the second year of the Hegira (A.A. 623), between the followers of Mahomet, who numbered three hundred and thirteen, possessing two horses and seventy camels, and the 'idolaters,' or Meccans, whose forces amounted to nine hundred and fifty, including two hundred cavalry. The victory remained with Mahomet, who lost fourteen men, while seventy of the enemy were slain. A great accession of strength ensued in consequence to the Prophet, who pretended that miracles were wrought in his behalf in the battle, God having sent angels to fight on his side, and having also made his army to appear larger to the enemy than it really was.--See the Koran, chapter viii., and ABULFEDA'S Life of Mahomet.] MAHOMET (Speaks). LET the foeman sorrow o'er his dead, Ne'er will they return again to light; O'er our brethren let no tear be shed, For they dwell above yon spheres so bright. All the seven planets open throw All their metal doors with mighty shock, And the forms of those we loved below At the gates of Eden boldly knock. There they find, with bliss ne'er dream'd before, Glories that my flight first show'd to eye, When the wondrous steed my person bore In one second through the realms on high.
Wisdom's trees, in cypress-order growing, High uphold the golden apples sweet; Trees of life, their spreading shadows throwing, Shade each blossoming plant, each flow'ry seat. Now a balmy zephyr from the East Brings the heavenly maidens to thy view; With the eye thou now dost taste the feast, Soon the sight pervades thee through and through. There they stand, to ask thee thy career: Mighty plans? or dangerous bloody rout? Thou'rt a hero, know they,--for Thourt here, What a hero?--This they'll fathom out. By thy wounds soon clearly this is shown, Wounds that write thy fame's undying story; Wounds the true believer mark alone, When have perish'd joy and earthly glory. To chiosks and arbors thou art brought, Fill'd with checkered marble columns bright; To the noble grape-juice, solace-fraught, They the guest with kindly sips invite. Youth! Thou'rt welcome more than e'er was youth All alike are radiant and serene; When thou tak'st one to thine heart with truth, Of thy band she'll be the friend and queen. So prepare thee for this place of rest, Never can it now be changed again; Maids like these will ever make thee blest, Wines like these will never harm thy brain. Or beasts there have been chosen four To come to Paradise, And there with saints for evermore They dwell in happy wise.
Amongst them all the Ass stands first; He comes with joyous stride, For to the Prophet-City erst Did Jesus on him ride. Half timid next a Wolf doth creep, To whom Mahomet spake "Spoil not the poor man of his sheep, The rich man's thou mayst take." And then the brave and faithful Hound, Who by his master kept, And slept with him the slumbers sound The seven sleepers slept. Abuherrira's Cat, too, here, Purrs round his master blest, For holy must the beast appear The Prophet hath caress'd.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.