TO MY FRIEND.
[These three odes are addressed to a certain Behrisch, who was tutor to Count Linedenan, and of whom Goethe gives an odd account at the end of the seventh book of his "Autobiography."]
FIRST ODE.
Transplant the beauteous tree!
Gardener, it gives me pain;
A happier resting-place
Its trunk deserved.
Yet the strength of its nature
To Earth's exhausting avarice,
To Air's destructive inroads,
An antidote opposed.
See how it in spring-time
Coins its pale green leaves!
Their orange-fragrance
Poisons each fly-blow straight.
The caterpillar's tooth
Is blunted by them;
With silvery hues they gleam
In the bright sunshine.
Its twigs the maiden
Fain would twine in
Her bridal-garland;
Youth its fruit are seeking.
See, the autumn cometh!
The caterpillar
Sighs to the crafty spider, —
Sighs that the tree will not fade.
