Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/281

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The life of man appears a glorious fate: The day how lovely and the night how great! And we 'mid Paradise-like raptures placed, The sun's bright glory scarce have learned to taste, When strange contending feelings dimly cover, Now us, and now the forms that round us hover; One's feelings by no other are supplied, 'Tis dark without, if all is bright inside; An outward brightness veils my saddened mood, When Fortune smiles,—how seldom understood!

Now think we that we know her, and with might A woman's beauteous form instils delight; The youth, as glad as in his infancy, The spring-time treads, as though the spring were he. Ravished, amazed, he asks, how this is done? He looks around, the world appears his own. With careless speed he wanders on through space, Nor walls, nor palaces can check his race; As some gay flight of birds round tree-tops plays, So 'tis with him who round his mistress strays; He seeks from Æther, which he'd leave behind him, The faithful look that fondly serves to bind him.

Yet first too early warned, and then too late, He feels his flight restrained, is captured straight; To meet again is sweet, to part is sad, Again to meet again is still more glad, And years in one short moment are enshrined; But, oh, the harsh farewell is hid behind!

Thou smilest, friend, with fitting thoughts inspired; By a dread parting was thy fame acquired; Thy mournful destiny we sorrowed o'er, For weal and woe thou left'st us evermore, And then again the passions' wavering force Drew us along in labyrinthine course;