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Translated by R.D. Boylan Edited by Nathen Haskell Dole - page 98 / 106





98 / 106

The Sorrows ofYoung Werther

They lost sight of everything. The world disappeared from their eyes. He clasped her in his arms, strained her to his bo- som, and covered her trembling lips with passionate kisses. “Werther!” she cried with a faint voice, turning herself away; “Werther!” and, with a feeble hand, she pushed him from her. At length, with the firm voice of virtue, she exclaimed, “Werther!” He resisted not, but, tearing himself from her arms, fell on his knees before her. Charlotte rose, and, with disor- dered grief, in mingled tones of love and resentment, she ex- claimed, “It is the last time, Werther! You shall never see me any more!” Then, casting one last, tender look upon her un- fortunate lover, she rushed into the adjoining room, and locked the door. Werther held out his arms, but did not dare to de- tain her. He continued on the ground, with his head resting on the sofa, for half an hour, till he heard a noise which brought him to his senses. The servant entered. He then walked up and down the room; and, when he was again left alone, he went to Charlotte’s door, and, in a low voice, said, “Char- lotte, Charlotte! but one word more, one last adieu!” She returned no answer. He stopped, and listened and entreated; but all was silent. At length he tore himself from the place,

crying, “Adieu, Charlotte, adieu for ever!” Werther ran to the gate of the town. The guards, who knew him, let him pass in silence. The night was dark and stormy,

  • it rained and snowed. He reached his own door about

eleven. His servant, although seeing him enter the house with- out his hat, did not venture to say anything; and; as he un- dressed his master, he found that his clothes were wet. His hat was afterward found on the point of a rock overhanging the valley; and it is inconceivable how he could have climbed to the summit on such a dark, tempestuous night without

losing his life.

He retired to bed, and slept to a late hour.The next morning his servant, upon being called to bring his coffee, found him writing. He was adding, to Charlotte, what we here annex.

“For the last, last time I open these eyes. Alas! they will behold the sun no more. It is covered by a thick, impenetrable cloud. Yes, Nature! put on mourning: your child, your friend, your lover, draws near his end! This thought, Charlotte, is without parallel; and yet it seems like a mysterious dream when I repeat—this is my last day! The last! Charlotte, no word can adequately express this thought. The last! To-day I


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