Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Here you will find the Poem The Pupil In Magic of poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

The Pupil In Magic

I AM now,--what joy to hear it!--
Of the old magician rid;
And henceforth shall ev'ry spirit
Do whate'er by me is bid;
 I have watch'd with rigour
 All he used to do,
 And will now with vigour
 Work my wonders too.

 Wander, wander
 Onward lightly,
 So that rightly
 Flow the torrent,
 And with teeming waters yonder
 In the bath discharge its current!

And now come, thou well-worn broom,
And thy wretched form bestir;
Thou hast ever served as groom,
So fulfil my pleasure, sir!
 On two legs now stand,
 With a head on top;
 Waterpail in hand,
 Haste, and do not stop!

 Wander, wander
 Onward lightly,
 So that rightly
 Flow the torrent,
 And with teeming waters yonder
 In the bath discharge its current!

See! he's running to the shore,
And has now attain'd the pool,
And with lightning speed once more
Comes here, with his bucket full!

 Back he then repairs;
 See how swells the tide!
 How each pail he bears
 Straightway is supplied!

 Stop, for, lo!
 All the measure
 Of thy treasure
 Now is right!--

 Ah, I see it! woe, oh woe!
 I forget the word of might.
Ah, the word whose sound can straight
Make him what he was before!
Ah, he runs with nimble gait!

Would thou wert a broom once more!
 Streams renew'd for ever
 Quickly bringeth he;
 River after river
 Rusheth on poor me!

 Now no longer
 Can I bear him;
 I will snare him,
 Knavish sprite!
 Ah, my terror waxes stronger!
 What a look! what fearful sight

Oh, thou villain child of hell!
Shall the house through thee be drown'd
Floods I see that wildly swell,
O'er the threshold gaining ground.

 Wilt thou not obey,
 Oh, thou broom accurs'd?
 Be thou still I pray,
 As thou wert at first!

 Will enough
 Never please thee?
 I will seize thee,
 Hold thee fast,
 And thy nimble wood so tough,
 With my sharp axe split at last.

See, once more he hastens back!
Now, oh Cobold, thou shalt catch it!
I will rush upon his track;
Crashing on him falls my hatchet.

 Bravely done, indeed!
 See, he's cleft in twain!
 Now from care I'm freed,
 And can breathe again.

 Woe, oh woe!
 Both the parts,
 Quick as darts,
 Stand on end,
 Servants of my dreaded foe!
 Oh, ye gods protection send!

And they run! and wetter still
Grow the steps and grows the hail.
Lord and master hear me call!
Ever seems the flood to fill,

 Ah, he's coming! see,
 Great is my dismay!
 Spirits raised by me
 Vainly would I lay!

 "To the side
 Of the room
 Hasten, broom,
 As of old!
 Spirits I have ne'er untied
 Save to act as they are told."