Now, gentle reader, is our
Mute is our minstrel, silent
is our song;
Sweet the bard's voice whose strains our course attended,
Pleasant the paths he guided
Now must we part,--Oh word all full of sadness,
Changing to pensive retrospect our gladness!
Reader, farewell! we part
perchance for ever,
Scarce may I hope to meet
with thee again;
But e'en though fate our fellowship may sever,
Reader, will aught to mark
that tie remain?
Yes! there is left one sad sweet bond of union,--
Sorrow at parting links us in communion.
But of the twain, the greater
is my sorrow,--
Reader, and why?--Bethink
thee of the sun,
How, when he sets, he waiteth for the morrow,
Proudly once more his giant-race
Yet, e'en when set, a glow behind him leaving,
Gladdening the spirit, which had else been grieving.
Thus mayst thou feel, for
thou to GOETHE only
Baldest farewell, nor camest
aught for me.
Twofold my parting, leaving me all lonely,--
I now must part from GOETHE
and from thee,
Parting at once from comrade and from leader,--
Farewell, great minstrel! farewell, gentle reader!
Hush'd is the harp, its
music sunk in slumbers,
Memory alone can waken now its numbers.