Sunday, 27 August 2017

The Mountain Castle


    My classic poetry post has been very popular amongst readers and because of this I've decided to do a few more. Today we're celebrating the life and works of German poet and writer, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, with his poem, the Mountain Castle. The poem itself demonstrates the poet's imagination at work.

 The Mountain Castle


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 stored

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 hallowed

No longer she fills for the priest

No more for the eager squire

The draught in the passage is poured

No more for the flying present

Receives she the flying reward

For all the roof and the rafters

They all long since have been burned

And stairs and passage and chapel

To rubbish and ruins are turned

Yet when with lute and with flagon

When day was smiling and bright

I've watched my mistress climbing

To gain this perilous height

Then rapture joyous and radiant

The silence so desolate brake

And all, as in days long vanished

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 asked, 'Would ye twain be united?'

And we, with a smile, answered, 'Yes!'

And songs that breathed a deep feeling

That touched the heart's innermost chord

The music-fraught mouth of sweet echo

Instead of the many, outpoured

And when at eve all was hidden

In silence unbroken and deep

The glowing sun then looked upwards

And gazed on the summit so steep

And squire and maiden then glittered

As bright and gay as a lord

She seized the time for her present

And he to give her reward


                              Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
                        28 August 1749 - 22 March 1832



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