Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/246

216 And the seal so pure and chaste By them on my lips was placed.

With her modest pinions, see, Philomel encircles me! In these bushes, in yon grove, Calls she to her sister-throng, And their heavenly choral song Teaches me to dream of love.

Fulness waxes in my breast Of emotions social, blest; Friendship's nurtured,—love awakes,— And the silence Phœbus breaks Of his mountains, of his vales, Sweetly blow the balmy gales; All for whom he shows affection, Who are worthy his protection. Gladly follow his direction.

This one comes with joyous bearing And with open, radiant gaze; That a sterner look is wearing, This one, scarcely cured, with daring Wakes the strength of former days; For the sweet, destructive flame Pierced his marrow and his frame. That which Amor stole before Phœbus only can restore. Peace, and joy, and harmony. Aspirations pure and free.

Brethren, rise ye! Numbers prize ye! Deeds of worth resemble they. Who can better than the bard