1803.*-----SONG OF FELLOWSHIP.
[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest ofIlmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composedthe last act of his Iphigenia.]
So that in their snares, the weaponsOne would think, must needs be captured,Soon, in truth, the spears are prison'd;Yet they, in the gentle war-dance,One by one escape their fettersIn the row of loops so tender,That make haste to seize a free oneSoon as they release a captive.
YOUNG woman, may God bless thee,Thee, and the sucking infantUpon thy breast!Let me, 'gainst this rocky wall,Neath the elm-tree's shadow,Lay aside my burden,Near thee take my rest.
Like it, no sign of life thou giv'st to me;Compared with thee, the stone appears to glow.
Made it a bellrope for the nonce,And kept it moving all the day;
And the nightingale replies;Wat'ry flakes and jets are falling,
Of thy treasure
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