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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - The King Of Thule
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IN Thule lived a monarch,

Still faithful to the grave,
To whom his dying mistress

A golden goblet gave.

Beyond all price he deem`d it,

He quaff`d it at each feast;
And, when he drain`d that goblet,

His tears to flow ne`er ceas`d.

And when he felt death near him,

His cities o`er he told,
And to his heir left all things,

But not that cup of gold.

A regal banquet held he

In his ancestral ball,
In yonder sea-wash`d castle,

`Mongst his great nobles all.

There stood the aged reveller,

And drank his last life`s-glow,—
Then hurl`d the holy goblet

Into the flood below.

He saw it falling, filling,

And sinking `neath the main,
His eyes then closed for ever,

He never drank again.
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