Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/265

Rh Awed me then the peace so sweet and holy, Which upon her drooping eyelids rested: On her lips abode a trustful quiet, Beauty on her cheeks, the home of beauty; And the tranquil movement of her bosom Showed how innocent the heart that moved it. All her limbs, so gracefully reposing, Lay relaxed by sleep's delicious balsam: There I sat enraptured, and the vision Curbed the impulse I had felt to wake her, With a spell that close and closer bound me.

"O my love," I murmured, "and can slumber, Which unmasks whate'er is false and formal, Can he injure thee not, nor unravel Aught to shake thy lover's fondest fancy?

"Thy dear eyes are closed, those eyes so tender— Eyes, which only lifted are enchantment, Those sweet lips, oh, lips so sweet they stir not, Stir not nor for speech, nor yet for kisses! All unloosened is the magic cincture Of thine arms, that otherwhiles enclasp me, And the hand, the dainty sweet companion Of all best endearments, void of motion. Were my thoughts of thee delusion merely— Were my love for thee but self-deception, I must now discern the truth, when Amor Stands beside me thus, with eyes unbandaged."

Long while thus I sat, with heart elated, Thinking of her worth and my devotion; Sleeping, she with rapture so had filled me, That I did not venture to awake her.

Placing softly down upon her table Two pomegranates and two half-blown rosebuds,