Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/180

154 "Ceres—Bacchus, here their gifts are heaping. And thou bringest Amor's gentle joy! Why with terror pale? Sweet one, let us hail These bright gods their festive gifts employ."

"Oh, no—no! Young stranger, come not nigh me Joy is not for me, nor festive cheer. Ah! such bliss may ne'er be tasted by me, Since my mother, in fantastic fear, By long sickness bowed, To heaven's service vowed Me, and all the hopes that warmed me here.

"They have left our hearth, and left it lonely, — The old gods, that bright and jocund train. One, unseen, in heaven, is worshipped only. And upon the cross a Saviour slain; Sacrifice is here, Not of lamb nor steer, But of human woe and human pain."

And he asks, and all her words doth ponder,— "Can it be that in this silent spot, I behold thee, thou surpassing wonder! My sweet bride, so strangely to me brought? Be mine only now— See, our parents' vow Heaven's good blessing hath for us besought."

"No! thou gentle heart," she cried in anguish; "'Tis not mine, but 'tis my sister's place;