Thou seekest here a spurious fame,
The stars their blessings pourOn feelings never-dying;
In the drear void of a sad tortured breast;Now on the well-known threshold Hope hath smil'd,Herself appeareth in the sunlight mild.
[This song was also written for Lily. Goethe mentions, at the endof his Autobiography, that he overheard her singing it oneevening after he had taken his last farewell of her.]
Penance in a desert land;By the farewell greetings holy
Burst them! I'll not repine.No noble friendWould stay his fellow-captive,If means of flight appear.
Then continued the pastor, the gold in his hand once more placing"None should delay to give in days like the present, and no oneOught to refuse to receive what is offer'd with liberal kindness.No one can tell how long he will keep what in peace he possesses,No one, how long he is doom'd in foreign countries to wander,While he's deprived of the field and the garden by which he is nurtured."