University of Virginia Library

IMITATED FROM GOETHE'S “ALEXIS AND DORA”

Ah, without stop or stay the ship still momently presses
On through the foaming deep, further and further from shore.
Far-traced the furrow is cut by the keel, and in it the dolphins
Bounding follow as though prey were before them in flight.
All betokens a fortunate voyage; light-hearted the shipman
Gently handles the sail that takes on it labour for all.
Forward as pennon and streamer presses the voyager's spirit,
One alone by the mast stands reverted and sad.
Mountains already blue he sees departing, he sees them
Sink in the sea, while sinks every joy from his gaze.
Also for thee has vanished the ship that bears thy Alexis,
Robs thee, O Dora, of friend, robs thee of, ah! the betrothed.
Thou, too, gazest in vain after me. Our hearts are still beating
For one another, but ah! on one another no more.
Single moment wherein I have lived, thou weigh'st in the balance
More than all days erewhile coldly squandered by me.
Ah, in that moment alone, the last, arose in my bosom
Life unhoped for in thee, come down as a gift from the Gods.
Now in vain dost thou with thy light make glorious the æther,
Thy all-illumining day—Phœbus, by me is abhorred.
Back on myself I return, and fain would I there in the silence
Live o'er again the time when daily to me she appeared.
Was it possible beauty to see and never to feel it?
Did not the heavenly charm work on thy dullness of soul?
Blame not thyself, poor heart, so the poet proposes a riddle,
Artfully wrought into words oft to the ear of the crowd,
The network of images, lovely and strange, is a joy to the hearer,
Yet still there lacketh the word affirming the sense of the whole.
Is it at last disclosed, then every spirit is gladdened,
And in the verse perceives meaning of twofold delight.
Ah, why so late, O love, dost thou unbind from my forehead
Wrappings that darkened my eyes—why too late dost unbind?
Long time the freighted bark delayed for favouring breezes,
Fair at last rose the wind pressing off-shore to the sea.
Idle seasons of youth and idle dreams of the future
Ye have departed—for me only remaineth the hour;
Yes, it remains the gladness remaining for me; Dora, I hold thee.
Hope to my gaze presents, Dora, thy image alone.
Often on thy way to the temple I saw thee gaydecked and decorous,
Stepped the good mother beside, all ceremonious and grave.
Quick-footed wert thou and eager, bearing thy fruit to the market,
Quitting the well, thy head how daringly balanced the jar;
There, lo! thy throat was shown, thy neck more fair than all others,
Fairer than others were shown the poise and play of thy limbs.
Ofttime I held me in fear for the totter and crash of the pitcher,
Yet upright ever it stood, there where the kerchief was pleached.
Fairest neighbour, yes, my wont it was to behold thee,
As we behold the stars, as we contemplate the moon.
In them rejoicing, while never once in the tranquil bosom,
Even in shadow of thought stirs the desire to possess.
Thus did ye pass, my years. But twenty paces asunder
Our dwellings, thine and mine, nor once on thy threshold I trod.
Now the hideous deep divides us! Ye lie to the heavens,
Billows! your lordly blue to me is the colour of night.
Already was everything in motion. A boy came running
Swift to my father's house, calling me down to the shore.
“The sail is already hoisted; it flaps in the wind,” so spake he.
“Weighed with a lusty cheer the anchor parts from the sand.
Come, Alexis! O come!” And gravely, in token of blessing,
Laid my good father his hand on the clustering curls of the son.
Careful the mother reached me a bundle newly made ready;
“Come back happy!” they cried. “Come back happy and rich.”
So out of doors, the bundle under my arm, did I fling me,
And at the wall below, there by the garden gate,
Saw thee stand; thou smiledst upon me and spake'st. “Alexis,
Yonder clamouring folk, are these thy comrades aboard?
Distant shores thou visitest now and merchandise precious
Thou dost deal in, and jewels for the wealthy city dames.
Wilt thou not bring me also one little light chain? I would buy it
Thankfully. I have wished so oft to adorn me with this.”
Holding my own I stood and asked, in the way of a merchant,
First of the form, the weight exact, of the order thou gavest.
Modest in truth was the price thou assignedst.
While gazing upon thee,
Neck and shoulders I saw worthy the jewels of our queen.
Louder sounded the cry from the ship. Then saidest thou kindly,
“Some of the garden fruit take thou with thee on thy way.
Take the ripest oranges—take white figs. The sea yields
Never a fruit at all. Nor doth every country give fruits.”
Thereon I stepped within; the fruit thou busily broughtest,
There in the gathered robe bearing a burden all gold.
Often I pleaded, “see this is enough,” and ever another
And fairer fruit down dropped, lightly touched, to thy hand.
Then at the last to the bower thou camest. There was a basket,
And the myrtle in bloom bent over thee, over me.
Skilfully didst thou begin to arrange the fruit and in silence.
First the orange, that lies heavy a globe of gold,
Then the tenderer fig, which slightest pressure will injure,
And with myrtle o'erlaid, fair adorned was the gift.
But I lifted it not. I stood, we looked one another
Full in the eyes. When straight the sight of my eyes waxed dim.
Thy bosom I felt on my own! and now my arm encircled
The stately neck, whereon thousandfold kisses I showered.
Sank thy head on my shoulder—by tender arms enfolded
As with a chain was he the man whom thou hast made blest.
The hands of Love I felt, he drew us with might together,
And thrice from a cloudless sky it thundered; and now there flowed
Tears from my eyes, down streaming, weeping wert thou. I wept,
And through sorrow and joy the world seemed to pass from our sense.
Ever more urgent their shoreward cry; but thither to bear me
My feet refused: I cried, “Dora, and art thou not mine?”
“For ever,” thou gently saidst. And thereon it seemed that our tears,
As by some breath divine, gently were blown from our eyes.
Nearer the cry “Alexis!” Then peered the boy, as he sought me,
In through the garden gate. How the basket he eyed.
How he constrained me. How I pressed thee once more by the hand.
How arrived I aboard? I know as one drunken I seemed.
Even so my companions took me to be; they bore with one ailing,
And already in haze of distance the city grew dim.
“For ever,” Dora, thy whisper was. In my ear it echoes
Even with the thunder of Zeus. There stood she by his throne,
She, his daughter, the Goddess of Love, and beside her the Graces.
So by the Gods confirmed this our union abides.
O then haste thee, our bark, with the favouring winds behind thee.
Labour, thou lusty keel, sunder the foaming flood!
Bring me to that strange haven; that so for me may the goldsmith
In his workshop anon fashion the heavenly pledge.
Ay, in truth, the chainlet shall grow to a chain, O Dora.
Nine times loosely wound shall it encircle thy neck.
Further, jewels most manifold will I procure for thee; golden
Bracelets also. My gifts richly shall deck thy hand.
There shall the ruby contend with the emerald; loveliest sapphire
Matched against jacinth shall stand, while with a setting of gold
Every gem may be held in a perfect union of beauty.
O what joy for the lover to grace with jewel and gold the beloved.
If pearls I view, my thought is of thee; there rises before me
With every ring the shape slender and fair of thy hand.
I will barter and buy, and out of them all the fairest
Thou shalt choose. I devote all my lading to thee.
But not jewel and gem alone shall thy lover procure thee.
What a housewife would choose, that will he bring with him too.
Coverlets delicate, woollen and purple, hemmed to make ready
A couch that grateful and soft fondly shall welcome the pair.
Lengths of the finest linen. Thou sittest and sewest and clothest
Me therein and thyself, and haply also a third.
Visions of hope delude my heart. Allay, O Divine Ones,
Flames of resistless desire wildly at work in my breast,
And yet I fain would recall delights that are bitter,
When care to me draws near, hideous, cold and unmoved.
Not the Erinnyes torch nor the baying of hounds infernal
Strikes such terror in him, the culprit in realms of despair,
As that phantom unmoved in me who shows me the fair one
Far away. Open stands even now the garden gate,
And another, not I, draws near—for him fruits are falling,
And for him, too, the fig strengthening honey retains.
Him too doth she draw to the bower. Does he follow? O sightless
Make me, O Gods! destroy the vision of memory in me.
Yes—a maiden is she—she who gives herself straight to one lover,
She to another who woes as speedily turns her around.
Laugh not, O Zeus, this time, at an oath audaciously broken—
Thunder more fiercely! strike! yet hold back thy lightning shaft.
Send on my trace the sagging clouds. In gloom as of night-time
Let thy bright lightning-flash strike this ill-fated mast.
Scatter the planks around and give to the raging waters
This my merchandise. Give me to the dolphins a prey.
Now ye Muses enough! In vain is your effort to image
How in a heart that loves alternate sorrow and joy.
Nor are ye able to heal those wounds which Love has inflicted,
Yet their assuagement comes, Gracious Ones, only from you.