Light clouds are stealing;Penitents fair are they,
The purest balsam in each earthly wound?Thou knows't me well; thy panting heart I led
If his duty he regard,More he'll do, than others may.
-----Now, gentle reader, is our journey ended,
Silence fearful as the grave!In the mighty waste of ocean
Whence the drops so fragrant fell;By the locks, whose gentle care
What a hero?--This they'll fathom out.
[This sweet Ballad, and the one entitled The Maid of the Mill'sRepentance, were written on the occasion of a visit paid by Goetheto Switzerland. The Maid of the Mill's Treachery, to which thelatter forms the sequel, was not written till the following year.]
1815.*-----TO THE CHOSEN ONE.[This sweet song is doubtless one of those addressed toFrederica.]
WHY pacest thou, my neighbour fair,