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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - The Mountain Castle
Work rating: Low

THERE stands on yonder high mountain

A castle built of yore,
Where once lurked horse and horseman

In rear of gate and of door.

Now door and gate are in ashes,

And all around is so still;
And over the fallen ruins

I clamber just as I will.

Below once lay a cellar,

With costly wines well stor`d;
No more the glad maid with her pitcher

Descends there to draw from the hoard.

No longer the goblet she places

Before the guests at the feast;
The flask at the meal so hallow`d

No longer she fills for the priest.

No more for the eager squire

The draught in the passage is pour`d;
No more for the flying present

Receives she the flying reward.

For all the roof and the rafters,

They all long since have been burn`d,
And stairs and passage and chapel

To rubbish and ruins are turn`d.

Yet when with lute and with flagon,

When day was smiling and bright,
I`ve watch`d my mistress climbing

To gain this perilous height,

Then rapture joyous and radiant

The silence so desolate brake,
And all, as in days long vanish`d,

Once more to enjoyment awoke;

As if for guests of high station

The largest rooms were prepared;
As if from those times so precious

A couple thither had fared;

As if there stood in his chapel

The priest in his sacred dress,
And ask`d: "Would ye twain be united?"

And we, with a smile, answer`d, "Yes!"

And songs that breath`d a deep feeling,

That touched the heart`s innermost chord,
The music-fraught mouth of sweet echo,

Instead of the many, outpour`d.

And when at eve all was hidden

In silence unbroken and deep,
The glowing sun then look`d upwards,

And gazed on the summit so steep.

And squire and maiden then glitter`d

As bright and gay as a lord,
She seized the time for her present,

And he to give her reward.
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