AGAbrego Final Assignment

volume 1 Bargain

2024 may

a u s

tA Play by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Prologue for the Theater

POET

Then give me back youth’s golden prime, When my own spirit too was growing, When from my heart th’unbidden rhyme Gush’d forth, a fount for ever flowing; Then shadowy mist the world conceal’d, And every bud sweet promise made, Of wonders yet to be reveal’d, As through the vales, with blooms inlaid,

MERRYMAN

Youth, my good friend, you certainly require When foes in battle round are pressing, When a fair maid, her heart on fire, Hangs on your neck with fond caressing, When from afar, the victor’s crown, To reach the hard-won goal inciteth; When from the whirling dance, to drown Your sense, the night’s carouse inviteth.

Culling a thousand flowers I stray’d. Naughty had I, yet a rich profusion! The thirst for truth, joy in each fond illusion. Give me unquell’d those impulses to prove; -Rapture so deep, its ecstasy was pain, The power of hate, the energy of love, Give me, oh give me back my youth again!

But the familiar chords among Boldly to sweep, with graceful cunning, While to its goal, the verse along Its winding path is sweetly running; This task is yours, old gentlemen, to-day; Nor are you therefore less in reverence held; Age does not make us childish, as folk say, It finds us genuine children e'en in eld.

A truce to words, mere empty sound, Let deeds at length appear, my friends!

While idle compliments you round, You might achieve some useful ends. Why talk of the poetic vein? Who hesitates will never know it; If bards ye are, as ye maintain, Now let your inspiration show it. To you is known what we require, Strong drink to sip is our desire; Come, brew me such without delay! To-morrow sees undone, what happens not to-day

Still forward press, nor ever tire!

The possible, with steadfast trust, Resolve should by the forelock grasp; Then she will ne'er let go her clasp, And labours on, because she must. Therefore in bringing out your play, Nor scenes nor mechanism spare! Heaven's lamps employ, the greatest and the least, Be lavish of the stellar lights, Water, and fire, and rocky heights, Spare not at all, nor birds, nor beast.

I have, alas! Philosophy, Medidine, Jurispurdence too, And to my cost Theology, With ardent labour, studied through. And here I stand, with all my lore, Poor fool, no wiser than before.