Public Domain Poetry And Stories - Mahomet's Song. by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Mahomet's Song.

    By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe



    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,

    Social streamlets
    Join his waters. And now moves he
    O'er the plain in silv'ry glory,
    And the plain in him exults,
    And the rivers from the plain,
    And the streamlets from the mountain,
    Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother,
    Brother, take thy brethren with thee,
    With thee to thine aged father,
    To the everlasting ocean,
    Who, with arms outstretching far,
    Waiteth for us;
    Ah, in vain those arms lie open
    To embrace his yearning children;
    For the thirsty sand consumes us
    In the desert waste; the sunbeams
    Drink our life-blood; hills around us
    Into lakes would dam us! Brother,
    Take thy brethren of the plain,
    Take thy brethren of the mountain
    With thee, to thy father's arms!

    Let all come, then!
    And now swells he
    Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people
    Bears his regal flood on high!
    And in triumph onward rolling,
    Names to countries gives he, cities
    Spring to light beneath his foot.

    Ever, ever, on he rushes,
    Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits,
    Marble palaces, the offspring
    Of his fullness, far behind.

    Cedar-houses bears the Atlas
    On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring
    In the breeze far, far above him
    Thousand flags are gaily floating,
    Bearing witness to his might.

    And so beareth he his brethren,
    All his treasures, all his children,
    Wildly shouting, to the bosom
    Of his long-expectant sire.



Extra Info:
[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.]



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