Poems and Ballads of Goethe

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W. Blackwood, 1859 - 240 pages
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Page 22 - How happy seemed they both, so far beyond compare ! She, in her infant blest, And he in conscious rest, Nestling within the soft warm cradle of her breast ! What joy that sight might bear To him who sees them there, If, with a pure and guilt-untroubled eye, He looked upon the twain, like Joseph standing by. THE MUSES
Page 188 - THROUGH the forest idly, As my steps I bent, With a free and happy heart, Singing as I went. Cowering in the shade I Did a floweret spy, Bright as any star in heaven, Sweet as any eye. Down to pluck it stooping, Thus to me it said, " Wherefore pluck me only To wither and to fade...
Page 109 - Knowest thou the track that o'er the mountain goes, Where the mule threads its way through mist and snows, Where dwelt in caves the dragon's ancient brood, Topples the crag, and o'er it roars the flood. Knowest thou it well ? O come with me ! There lies our road — oh, father, let us flee.
Page 208 - PEACE breathes along the shade Of every hill, The tree-tops of the glade Are hushed and still ; All woodland murmurs cease, The birds to rest within the brake are gone. Be patient, weary heart — anon, Thou, too, shalt be at peace ! TO LINA.
Page 33 - Nightly from my narrow chamber driven, Come I to fulfil my destined part, Him to seek to whom my troth was given, And to draw the life-blood from his heart. He hath served my will ; More I yet must kill, For another prey I now depart.
Page 36 - O father, dear father ! he's grasping me — My heart is as cold as cold can be ! " The father rides swiftly — with terror he gasps — The sobbing child in his arms he clasps ; He reaches the castle with spurring and dread ; But, alack ! in his arms the child lay dead ! THE FISHER.
Page 51 - twas happy yet. "Trodden down although I lie, Yet my death is very sweet — For I cannot choose but die At her feet!
Page 118 - It would be presumptuous after him to give such a picture in other than his own words : — And along, in triumph rolling, Names he gives to regions ; cities Grow amain beneath his feet. On and ever on he rushes ; Spire and turret fiery crested, Marble palaces, the creatures Of his wealth, he leaves behind. Pine-built houses bears the Atlas On his giant shoulders. O'er his Head a thousand pennons rustle, Floating far upon the breezes, Tokens of his majesty. And so beareth he his brothers, And his...
Page 35 - WHO rides so late through the grisly night ? "Tis a father and child, and he grasps him tight ; He -wraps him close in his mantle's fold, And shelters the boy from the piercing cold. " My son, why thus to my arm dost cling...
Page 108 - Know'st thou the land where the pale citron grows, And the gold orange through dark foliage glows ? A soft wind flutters from the deep blue sky, The myrtle blooms, and towers the laurel high. Know'st thou it well? O there with thee ! O that I might, my own beloved one. flee ! Know'st thou the house ? On pillars rest its beams.

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