If thou dost feel 'tis I, then come with me!

Ay, if the grave's without,--If death lurk there! Hence to the everlasting resting-place, And not one step beyond!--Thou'rt leaving me? Oh Henry! would that I could go with thee!

The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, — Part 215

Thou canst! But will it! Open stands the door.

The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, — Part 215

I dare not go! I've naught to hope for more. What boots it to escape? They lurk for me! 'Tis wretched to beg, as I must do, And with an evil conscience thereto! 'Tis wretched, in foreign lands to stray; And me they will catch, do what I may!

The German Classics of The Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, — Part 215

Quick! Quick! Save thy poor child! Keep to the path The brook along, Over the bridge To the wood beyond, To the left, where the plank is, In the pond. Seize it at once! It fain would rise, It struggles still! Save it. Oh save!

Dear Gretchen, more collected be! One little step, and thou art free!

Were we but only past the hill There sits my mother upon a stone-- My brain, alas, is cold with dread!-- There sits my mother upon a stone, And to and fro she shakes her head; She winks not, she nods not, her head it droops sore; She slept so long, she waked no more; She slept, that we might taste of bliss: Ah I those were happy times, I wis!

Since here avails nor argument nor prayer, Thee hence by force I needs must bear.

Loose me! I will not suffer violence! With murderous hand hold not so fast! I have done all to please thee in the past!

Yes! day draws near, The day of judgment too will soon appear! It should have been my bridal! No one tell, That thy poor Gretchen thou hast known too well. Woe to my garland! Its bloom is o'er! Though not at the dance-- We shall meet once more. The crowd doth gather, in silence it rolls; The squares, the streets, Scarce hold the throng. The staff is broken,--the death-bell tolls,-- They bind and seize me! I'm hurried along, To the seat of blood already I'm bound! Quivers each neck as the naked steel Quivers on mine the blow to deal-- The silence of the grave now broods around!

Up! or you're lost. Vain hesitation! Babbling, quaking! My steeds are shivering, Morn is breaking.

What from the floor ascendeth like a ghost? 'Tis he! 'Tis he! Him from my presence chase! What would he in this holy place? It is for me he cometh!

Come, come! With her I'll else abandon thee!