Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/373

Rh Free was my bosom from yearning; yet soon my languishing glances Turned themselves backward in haste, seeking the snow-covered hills. Treasures unnumbered are southwards lying. Yet one to the northwards Draws me resistlessly back, like the strong magnet in force.

and fair is the world; yet oh! how I thank the kind heavens That I a garden possess, small though it be, yet mine own. One which enticeth me homewards; why should a gardener wander? Honour and pleasure he finds, when to his garden he looks.

, my maiden is going! she mounts the vessel! My monarch, Æolus! potentate dread! keep every storm far away! "Oh, thou fool!" cried the god: "ne'er fear the blustering tempest; When Love flutters his wings, then mayest thou dread the soft breeze."