[This song was also written for
Lily. Goethe mentions, at the end of his Autobiography, that he
overheard her singing it one evening after he had taken his
last farewell of her.]
WHEREFORE drag me to yon glittering
With resistless might?
Was I, then, not truly blest already
In the silent night?
In my secret chamber refuge taking,
'Neath the moon's soft
And her awful light around me breaking,
Musing there I lay.
And I dream'd of hours with joy
Golden, truly blest,
While thine image so beloved was glowing
Deep within my breast.
Now to the card-table hast thou
'Midst the torches glare?
Whilst unhappy faces are around me,
Dost thou hold me there?
Spring-flow'rs are to me more rapture-giving,
Now conceal'd from view;
Where thou, angel, art, is Nature living,
Love and kindness too.