Noisome insects Here are engender'd; Fatal darkness Veils their malice. The fiery-tongued serpent, Hard by the sedgy bank, Stretches his pamper'd body, Caress'd by the sun's bright beams. Tempt no gentle night-rambles Under the moon's cold twilight! Loathsome toads hold their meetings Yonder at every crossway. Injuring not, Fear will they cause thee. Oh, worthy man, Fly from this land! 1767. ----- THIRD ODE. BE void of feeling! A heart that soon is stirr'd, Is a possession sad Upon this changing earth. Behrisch, let spring's sweet smile Never gladden thy brow! Then winter's gloomy tempests Never will shadow it o'er. Lean thyself ne'er on a maiden's Sorrow-engendering breast. Ne'er on the arm, Misery-fraught, of a friend. Already envy From out his rocky ambush Upon thee turns The force of his lynx-like eyes, Stretches his talons, On thee falls, In thy shoulders Cunningly plants them. Strong are his skinny arms, As panther-claws; He shaketh thee, And rends thy frame. Death 'tis to part, 'Tis threefold death To part, not hoping Ever to meet again. Thou wouldst rejoice to leave This hated land behind, Wert thou not chain'd to me With friendships flowery chains. Burst them! I'll not repine. No noble friend Would stay his fellow-captive, If means of flight appear. The remembrance Of his dear friend's freedom Gives him freedom In his dungeon. Thou go'st,--I'm left. But e'en already The last year's winged spokes Whirl round the smoking axle. I number the turns Of the thundering wheel; The last one I bless.-- Each bar then is broken, I'm free then as thou! 1767. ----- MAHOMET'S SONG. [This song was intended to be introduced in a dramatic poem entitled Mahomet, the plan of which was not carried out by Goethe. He mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali towards the end of the piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly before his death, and when at the height of his glory, of which it is typical.] SEE the rock-born stream! Like the gleam Of a star so bright Kindly spirits High above the clouds Nourished him while youthful In the copse between the cliffs. Young and fresh. From the clouds he danceth Down upon the marble rocks; Then tow'rd heaven Leaps exulting. Through the mountain-passes Chaseth he the colour'd pebbles, And, advancing like a chief, Tears his brother streamlets with him In his course. In the valley down below 'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers, And the meadow In his breath finds life. Yet no shady vale can stay him, Nor can flowers, Round his knees all-softly twining With their loving eyes detain him; To the plain his course he taketh, Serpent-winding,