GOETHE'S APPEAL TO GRETCHEN. [From " Goethe," a poetic pantomime of extraordinary merit by Edward Kenealy, W. D. Reeves, Chancery Lane.]

Daily Southern Cross, Volume VI, Issue 430, 12 August 1851, Page 4

GOETHE'S APPEAL TO GRETCHEN. [From " Goethe," a poetic pantomime of extraordinary merit by Edward Kenealy, W. D. Reeves, Chancery Lane.]

Beautiful Gretchen ! in an Lour like this How sweet to wander by thy tide, to- clasp Thy folding hand in mine, to watch the glance | Chaster than light that sparkles in thine eyec. Or gaze enraptured on thee ; while the wind. Laden with breath of hyacinths, blows ronnd Thy nautical footsteps, or, in merry mood, Plays with the shining circlets of thine hiir. Speak to m«— speak I— oh ! let me once more hear | The heavenly words that from thy lips distil \ Like uotes from some rare exquisite instrument Of pearls and rubies made — speak to me, Gretchen ! And I will welcome death for the best chance That brought thee thus in fancy to my side. Dost thou remember — can'st Ihou e'er forget 'I he night when first 1 saw thee— saw and lored With a boy's sudden, fierce, immortal lore? Dost thon remember — can'st thou e'er forget How my eyes fed on thee, and on thy face, Like bees on nectar-welling flowers, while thou. Handing the wine-cap round and tasting it. Didst seem a heavenly Hebe? Never, never Hath the scene faded from my passionate soul— Nor thou, who art my worship, even to death. Dost thou remember that bright evening, Gretchen, Whtn at the latticed window tbou satst spinning, And I confesied in burning words of love, And poetry, and fear, my secret heart ? How my voice trembled, how my young limbs shook I How my eyes filled with happy boyish tears 1 How, when I pressed my lace on thy fair hinds, I quivered, and my fond soul leapt to thine 1 I tell thee that I loved her— she to me Was a whole world of light and happiness ; Her voice was like the music of my soul, Her eyes were as an angel's to my heart ; She was my dream, my thought, mr life, my all ; I knew no joy that did not spring from her, I felt no sorrow that she did not lighten ; Her coming was Hire morning bathed in dew And scattering sunshine, and her absence was Night to my soul, which felt or knew nobrightnesi When she was gone. I lived but for her smiie ; One glance of hers could raise me to high heaven, And one cold look press me beneath the earth. The soul that beamed from her son-lighted eyes Seemed but the heavenly twin of mine own soul ; And the celestial pureness of her mind, Wnose virgin whiteness never knew a stain, Made me love virtue even for Gretchen's sake ; Heaven that had made her like itself, so made her That I might worship it iu loving her : Like incense breathing from a precions censer, Or like the fragrance of a moss-twined rote, Or like new honey streaming from an oak. Her thoughts and words — O ever, ever loved, Where art thou now? Methinks thou shouldit be here Here, by thine early lover's dying pillow : Together we should pass from life, together Lie on one conch while the funeral .strain Was sung o'er both ; together should our ashes Mix in one marble urn, beneath one tomb. Ah, well-a-day ! Cold, and dead, and cold, She lies in the frigid fold Of the horrible serpent, Death. She sucked his poisoned breath, 'Till the rose on her cheek that gleamed, Like a withering lily seemed. Her silver laughter, her smiling eyes, The mnsic of her words. Sweet as a singing bird's On the merry greenwood tree, Liv%~but in memory ; For, oh I my own dear love is dead, And in her coffin cold she lies, ' Bhroudedj»n, white from foot to head, While overiher grave the grass doth grow. Ah 1 whether hath her spirit fled ?— That spirit as white as snow. Is it in heaven, or in the sky ? Or in the grave where my love doth lie ? Oh, -no— sweet Heaven 1— no* Her beautiful spirit is here in my heart, Never — never— never to part ; It came to my heart in the hour she died, Over the mountains broad and. wide, Over the land and over the tide, And my soul knew then that my lore was dead, And welcomed the angel-guest love-Itjd ; And deep in my' soul her spirit dwells, Like a lily embowered in its woodland dells.