Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Hatem

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Locks of brown, still bind your captive
In the circle of her face!
I, beloved sinuous tresses,
Naught possess that's worth your grace--

But a heart whose love enduring
Swells in youthful fervor yet:
Snow and mists envelop Etna,
Making men the fire forget.

Yonder mountain's pride so stately
Thou dost shame like dawn's red glow;
And its spell once more bids Hatem
Thrill of spring and summer know.

Once more fill the glass, the flagon!
Let me drink to my desire.
If she find a heap of ashes,
Say, "He perished in her fire!"

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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe