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[This song was intended to be introduced in a dramatic poem entitled Mahomet, the plan of which was not carried out by Goethe. He mentions that it was to have been sung by Ali toward the end of the piece, in honor of his master, Mahomet, shortly before his death, and when at the height of his glory, of which it is typical.]

See the rock-born stream!

Like the gleam

Of a star so bright!

Kindly spirits

High above the clouds

Nourished him while youthful

In the copse between the cliffs.

Young and fresh,

From the clouds he danceth

Down upon the marble rocks;

Then tow'rd heaven

Leaps exulting.

Through the mountain-passes

Chaseth he the color'd pebbles,

And, advancing like a chief,

Draws his brother streamlets with him

In his course.

In the vale below

'Neath his footsteps spring the flowers,

And the meadow

In his breath finds life.

Yet no shady vale can stay him,

Nor can flowers,

Round his knees all softly twining

With their loving eyes detain him;

To the plain his course he taketh,

Serpent-winding.

Eager streamlets

Join his waters. And now moves he

O'er the plain in silv'ry glory,

And the plain in him exults,

And the rivers from the plain,

And the streamlets from the mountain,

Shout with joy, exclaiming: "Brother,

Brother, take thy brethren with thee.

With thee to thine agèd father,

To the everlasting ocean,

Who, with arms outstretching far,

Waiteth for us;

Ah, in vain those arms lie open

To embrace his yearning children;

For the thirsty sand consumes us

In the desert waste; the sunbeams

Drink our life-blood; hills around us

Into lakes would dam us! Brother,

Take thy brethren of the plain,

Take thy brethren of the mountain

With thee, to thy father's arms!"—

Let all come, then!—

And now swells he

Lordlier still; yea, e'en a people

Bears his regal flood on high!

And in triumph onward rolling,

Names to countries gives he—cities

Spring to light beneath his foot.

Ever, ever, on he rushes,

Leaves the towers' flame-tipp'd summits,

Marble palaces, the offspring

Of his fulness, far behind.

Cedar-houses bears the Atlas

On his giant shoulders; flutt'ring

In the breeze far, far above him

Thousand flags are gaily floating,

Bearing witness to his might.

And so beareth he his brethren,

All his treasures, all his children,

Wildly shouting, to the bosom

Of his long-expectant sire.