My favorite German Poems

LYCAS; OR THE INVENTIONS OF GARDENS By S. Gessner by usgermany

Attempted from the Idyls of Gessner.

The stormy winter drives us from the green,

Nor leaves a flower to decorate the scene;

The winds arise—with sweep impetuous blow,

And whirl around the flakes of fleecy snow;

Yet shall imagination fondly rise

[37]And gather fair ideas as she flies:

The images that blooming spring pourtrays,

The sweets that bask in summer’s sultry rays,

The rich and varied fruits of autumn’s reign

Shall ope their treasures, in a bounteous train;

Of these the best, with choicest care display’d,

Shall form a wreath, for thee, my lovely maid!

So the fond shepherd, for his darling fair,

Culls beauteous flowers to deck her flowing hair.

The garden’s rise shall grace my humble strains;

If Daphne smiles ’twill well repay my pains!

‘Twas, in the morn of youth, a shepherd found

This happy art to decorate the ground;

This is the spot, the enamour’d Lycas cries,

Lycas the young, the gentle and the wise;

Under this elm, fair Adelaide first gave

The kiss of love to her devoted slave!

Whilst he, in am’rous accents told his flame,

With beating heart and agitated frame!

Here faint and weak my charmer sank to rest,

On the warm pillow of my panting breast!

“Lycas,” with interrupting sobs, she said,

“Take the soft secret of an am’rous maid:

Of all the swains that strive this heart to move,

‘Tis Lycas only Adelaide can love!

Ye peaceful groves—ye solitary springs—

To you I oft confess’d my secret stings!

And ye, sweet flowers bear witness to the truth

Of the soft flame that prey’d upon my youth;

Oft have your leaves that round me clust’ring grew,

Drank my warm tears as drops of morning dew.”

My heart is full—what transport is my own!

For, in my bosom, love has fixed his throne.

Sacred to love this spot shall ever stand

Deck’d with luxuriant beauties by my hands.

Under this elm, the shadiest of the trees,

The rose shall pour its odours on the breeze;

[38]Around its trunk the woodbine too shall rear

Its white and purple flowers aloft in air.

The treasures of the spring shall hither flow;

The piony by the lily here shall blow.

Over the hills, and through the meads I’ll roam,

And bring the blooming spoils in rapture home:

The purple violet, the pink shall join,

The od’rous shrubs shall all their sweets combine,

Of these a grove of balmy sort shall rise,

And, with its fragrant blossoms, scent the skies!

Then round this little favour’d isle, I’ll bring,

With gentle windings, yonder silver spring;

While eglantine and thorn shall interpose

Their hedge, a rampart ‘gainst invading foes—

Lest sheep and rambling goats the place annoy,

And spoil the promise of our future joy.

Oh then approach, ye favour’d of the loves!

Come and dwell here ye gentle turtle doves!

On yonder spreading branches, perch’d on high,

With coos repeated greet the lover’s sigh!

Then sportive sparrows round the roses play,

And sing, delighted, from the bending spray!

Ye butterflies, arrayed in coats of gold,

On beds of roses fluttering revels hold!

Here rest, upon the lily’s waving stalk,

And add new beauty to the evening walk.

Then shall the shepherd passing, free from care,

When zephyr spreads the perfumes thro’ the air,

Inhale the fragrance, and with transport cry,

What hallow’d place is this? what goddess nigh?

Does Venus own this gay, enchanted place?

Or has Diana, wearied in the chace,

Chosen a spot where choicest sweets abound,

To slumber on the consecrated ground?