But why in such frivolities confide?Perish the thought, with flattery to blind!
"My father, my father, and dost thou not hearThe words that the Erl-King now breathes in mine ear?""Be calm, dearest child, 'tis thy fancy deceives;'Tis the sad wind that sighs through the withering leaves."
It o'er them spreads its slime and mud.
Sing no more in mournful tones
[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest ofIlmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composedthe last act of his Iphigenia.]
1816.-----WHAT God would outwardly alone control,And on his finger whirl the mighty Whole?He loves the inner world to move, to viewNature in Him, Himself in Nature too,So that what in Him works, and is, and lives,The measure of His strength, His spirit gives.
O'er whom my sway extendeth, love I.Oh, grant me, God in Heaven, that I may ne'er
THE warder looks down at the mid hour of night,
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