GOETHE'S SONGS. 3^ 



I see thee, when far on the mountain ridge 



The dust clouds rise, 

 In the dark night, when o'er the trembling bridge 



The wanderer hies. 



I hear thee, when, soft as thy sweet voice, yonder 



The light brooks leap ; 

 In the still forest, dreaming on thee, I wander, 



When all things sleep. 

 I companion thee still : wer't thou ever so far 



To me thou art near ; 

 The sun sinks soon lights me the evening star : 



O ! wert thou here ! 



TO THE DISTANT ONE. 



And have I lost thee, then, my fair ? 



Hast thou from me for ever flown ? 

 Yet sounds in my accustomed ear 



Thine every word, thy every tone. 



Even as the wanderer through the field, 

 In vain his eyelid upward flings, 



When, in the azure heaven concealed, 

 High over head the lark she sings 



So gaze I anxiously along 



Mountain, rock, and tree, and plain ; 

 Thee remembers still my song, 



O ! come, my love, to me again. 



FIRST LOVE. 



Who will recal the happy hours, 



The hours of love, unmixed with pain ? 

 O ! who will bring me back the days 



Of the young time again ? 

 Vainly now my heart essays 

 Wounds to heal ; for Time devours 



All our joys, but leaves the pain ; 

 O ! who will bring me back the hours 



Of the young time again? 



SELF DECEIT. 



The curtain waves to and fro 



Upon my neighbour's floor ; 

 Methinks she peeps across to know 



If I'm at home no more. 

 And if the love reciprocal 



Which I to-day displayed, 

 Be now, as it for ever shall, 



Deep in my heart inlaid 

 But ah! alas ! the fair, I find, 



Such passion never sways 

 I see it is the evening wind 



That with the curtain plays. 



