The Consolers. Translated From Gœthe
“Why wilt thou not thy griefs forget?
Why must thine eyes with tears be wet?
When all things round thee sweetly smile,
Canst thou not, too, be glad a while?”
“Hither I come to weep alone;
The grief I feel is all mine own;
Dearer than smiles these tears to me;
Smile you—I ask no sympathy!”
“Repel not thus affection’s voice!
While thou art sad, can we rejoice?
To friendly hearts impart thy woe;
Perhaps we may some healing know.”
“Too gay your hearts to feel like mine,
Or such a sorrow to divine;
Nought have I lost I e’er possessed;
I mourn that I cannot be blessed.”
“What idle, morbid feelings these!
Can you not win what prize you please?
Youth, with a genius rich as yours,
All bliss the world can give insures.”
“Ah, too high-placed is my desire!
The star to which my hopes aspire
Shines all too far—I sigh in vain,
Yet cannot stoop to earth again.”
“Waste not so foolishly thy prime;
If to the stars thou canst not climb,
Their gentle beams thy loving eye
Every clear night will gratify.”
“Do I not know it? Even now
I wait the sun’s departing glow,
That I may watch them. Meanwhile ye
Enjoy the day—’tis nought to me!”