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Translated by W. Taylor
FAIR is the majesty of all thy works | |
| On the green earth, O Mother Nature, fair! | |
| But fairer the glad face | |
| Enraptured with their view. | |
| Come from the vine-banks of the glittering lake,— | 5 |
| Or, hast thou climbed the smiling skies anew, | |
| Come on the roseate tip | |
| Of evening’s breezy wing, | |
| And teach my song with glee of youth to glow, | |
| Sweet Joy, like thee,—with glee of shouting youths, | 10 |
| Or feeling Fanny’s laugh. | |
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| Behind us far already Uto lay,— | |
| At whose foot Zurich in the quiet vale | |
| Feeds her free sons; behind, | |
| Receding vine-clad hills. | 15 |
| Unclouded beamed the top of silver Alps; | |
| And warmer beat the heart of gazing youths, | |
| And warmer to their fair | |
| Companions spoke its glow. | |
| And Haller’s Doris sang, the pride of song; | 20 |
| And Hirzel’s Daphne, dear to Kleist and Gleim; | |
| And we youths sang, and felt | |
| As each were—Hagedorn. | |
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| Soon the green meadow took us to the cool | |
| And shadowy forest, which becrowns the isle. | 25 |
| Then cam’st thou, Joy, thou cam’st | |
| Down in full tide to us; | |
| Yes, Goddess Joy, thyself! We felt, we clasped, | |
| Best sister of Humanity, thyself; | |
| With thy dear Innocence | 30 |
| Accompanied, thyself! | |
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| Sweet thy inspiring breath, O cheerful Spring, | |
| When the meads cradle thee, and thy soft airs | |
| Into the hearts of youths | |
| And hearts of virgins glide! | 35 |
| Thou makest Feeling conqueror. Ah! through thee, | |
| Fuller, more tremulous heaves each blooming breast; | |
| With lips spell-freed by thee | |
| Young Love unfaltering pleads. | |
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| Fair gleams the wine when to the social change | 40 |
| Of thought or heartfelt pleasure it invites; | |
| And the Socratic cup, | |
| With dewy roses bound, | |
| Sheds through the bosom bliss, and wakes resolves, | |
| Such as the drunkard knows not,—proud resolves, | 45 |
| Emboldening to despise | |
| Whate’er the sage disowns. | |
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| Delightful thrills against the panting heart | |
| Fame’s silver voice, and immortality | |
| Is a great thought, well worth | 50 |
| The toil of noble men. | |
| By dint of song to live through after-times,— | |
| Often to be with rapture’s thanking tone | |
| By name invoked aloud, | |
| From the mute grave invoked,— | 55 |
| To form the pliant heart of sons unborn,— | |
| To plant thee, Love, thee, holy Virtue, there,— | |
| Gold-heaper, is well worth | |
| The toil of noble men. | |
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| But sweeter, fairer, more delightful ’t is | 60 |
| On a friend’s arm to know one’s self a friend! | |
| Nor is the hour so spent | |
| Unworthy heaven above. | |
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| Full of affection, in the airy shades | |
| Of the dim forest, and with downcast look | 65 |
| Fixed on the silver wave, | |
| I breathed this pious wish: | |
| “O, were ye here, who love me, though afar, | |
| Whom, singly scattered in our country’s lap, | |
| In lucky, hallowed hour, | 70 |
| My seeking bosom found; | |
| Here would we build us huts of friendship, here | |
| Together dwell forever!” The dim wood | |
| A shadowy Tempo seemed; | |
| Elysium all the vale. | 75 |
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