Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/297

Rh Yet what excuse, my heart, can I prepare In such a case, for not consulting thee? But courage! while our sorrows utter we In tones where love, grief, gladness have a share.

But see! the minstrel's bidding to obey, Its melody pours forth the sounding lyre, Yearning a sacrifice of love to bring. Scarce would'st thou think it—ready is the lay; Well, but what then? Methought in the first fire We to her presence flew, that lay to sing.

 THE MAIDEN SPEAKS. 