How
I got to the top of the narrow stair
Is beyond my power of recounting;
Invisible spirits with wafting wings
May have aided me in mounting.
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There,
in Hammonia's little room,
The pleasant hours flew fleetly.
That I always had had her sympathy
The goddess assured me sweetly.
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"You
see," she said," before your time
I accorded the highest glory
To the singer who tuned his saintly lyre
To the great Messiah-story.
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"If
you look at the chest of drawers, you will find
That Klopstock's bust's upon it;
But for many years it has only been
A block to support my bonnet.
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"You're
my favourite now; your portrait hangs
At the head of my bed, and round it
Is a chaplet of green laurel leaves;
You'll observe how I have crowned it.
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"One
thing alone to perfect love
Has proved a stone of stumbling;
You must cease annoying my other sons
With your girding and your grumbling.
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"But
I hope that time has cured you at last
Of that youthful misdemeanour,
And taught you to treat all men, even fools,
With a tolerance serener.
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"But
tell me, pray, what prompted you
To travel north at present.
At this time of year it is bitterly cold,
And the weather is far from pleasant."
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"Alas,
my goddess!" I replied,
"I cannot give you reasons;
The thoughts that sleep in the depths of the heart
May wake at awkward seasons.
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"On
the surface I seemed to be fairly well,
But, within, my soul was troubled.
Home-sickness had seized me, and every day
The misery grew and doubled.
