GIFT OF 
 
mnmts to 
 Uttf rarg ♦ ♦ 
 
SONNETS TO 
 LITERARY PERSONAGES 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 
 
 PLATEN 
 
 \Vi 
 
 REGINALD B. COOKE, Ph.D. 
 
 ANDRUS & CHURCH 
 ITHACA, NEW YORK 
 
 1922 
 
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 Entered in the Library of Congress 
 
 and copyright, 1922, by 
 
 R. B. Cooke 
 
 
 This edition Hmited to 40 copies. 
 Copy No 
 
^axt^ttxh 
 
 This volume comprises the fifth series of my 
 translations from Platen, containing twelve 
 sonnets of somewhat circumscribed interest, 
 addressed to, or otherwise concerned with, vari- 
 ous persons of literary consequence, for the most 
 part acquaintances of Platen. 
 
 Of these sonnets only the first of those 
 addressed to Schelling has been previously 
 translatecj into English, by an anonymous writer, 
 and may be found in Longfellow's Poets and 
 Poetry of Europe and also in Warner's Library^ of 
 the World's Best Literature. 
 
 The mottoes given here date from 1 82 1 , and 
 complete the five which Platen prefixed at one 
 time or another to editions of his sonnets. 
 
 Only twenty-three sonnets now remain to 
 be translated, which it is proposed to group 
 
 469? 
 
 O £ ^» 
 
under the title To Various Friends. These will 
 probably be found to be of greater general 
 interest than the present series, containing as 
 they do some of Platen*s most impassioned work. 
 
 May I be permitted to note that since I began 
 these translations eight years ago, I find that their 
 style has become increasingly faithful to the 
 original, yet at the same time increasingly want- 
 ing in flexibility and grace. The enjambement of 
 the octave in the sonnet to Shakespeare, which 
 has been recast from the first translation from 
 Platen which I ever made, is a survival of my 
 earlier method, and comes now with a sense of 
 positive relief. Accordingly, with all my admira- 
 tion for Platen's craftsmanship, probably unex- 
 celled in modern literature, I cannot but feel that 
 there is much to be said for the Miltonic idea of 
 the sonnet as a fluent and more or less amor- 
 phous whole. 
 
 Cornell University. R. B. C. 
 
SONNETS TO 
 LITERARY PERSONAGES 
 
MOTTOES 
 
 I 
 
 The world grows more and more profane; 
 No champions now the Faith sustain. 
 What wrong hath the Eternal wrought 
 That we but seldom give him thought ? 
 
 II 
 
 Know that so long as you let reign 
 
 An epidemic of reflexion, 
 In quarantine you must remain 
 
 At Poetry's portal for inspection. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Oh that I had but the power 
 
 With vigor to route and avert 
 From every poetical flower 
 
 The political bugs and their dirt ! 
 
TO SCHELLING— I 
 
 DOTH not he ever king in Truth's domain 
 Reign too o'er Beauty's realm by kingly right? 
 Thou dost behold them perfectly unite 
 And closely fuse in one harmonious strain. 
 This little present thou wilt not disdain; 
 These oriental throngs with true delight 
 Thou wilt survey, so picturesque, so bright, 
 And grow accustomed to their strange refrain. 
 On blooms of a far land admittedly 
 I poise but lightly like the butterfly. 
 Joying perchance in some mere vanity. 
 But from the brims of flowers 'neath every sky 
 Thou dipp'st the wing of the inviolate bee 
 Into the mysteries of How and Why. 
 
 (1821) 
 
TO SCHELLING— 2 
 
 WE hung upon thy words with zeal untold. 
 Each in his seat how eager to detect 
 Th* amazing flashes of thy intellect. 
 Piercing like lightning from the clouds unrolled. 
 Our fragmentary world thou dost behold 
 Entire, as from some mountain peak erect; 
 What our impoverished faculties dissect 
 Opens to thee as flowering plants unfold. 
 Though fools there be who wrathfully display 
 Their logical invectives, so to blind 
 Our senses to the worthless eggs they lay. 
 Yet shall these censors, thinking fault to find, 
 Stir not the world of learning, nor shall they 
 At any time inspire a poet's mind. 
 
 (1821) 
 
TO SCHELLING— 3 ' 
 
 AS full of weariness sank to the grave 
 A century, and left at our command 
 Much that was great, thou cam*st, though scarce o*er- 
 
 spanned 
 Thy youth, the course of the new age to pave. 
 Art saw thy coming, grasped the pilgrim s stave, 
 And roamed at liberty through every land; 
 Gladly to her the chill North and the bland. 
 Luxuriant South their golden treasures gave. 
 The air is filled with yelpings of the crowd. 
 The stupid and the vile defile her fame. 
 And owls through each foul breech do screech aloud; 
 Yet all serene her diamond flowers flame, 
 Whose fragrance permeates, like an incense cloud. 
 The realms which bow to Christ's eternal name. 
 
 (1821 
 
TO GOETHE 
 
 THOU, mighty one, whom I beheld oft blind 
 To my true nature of a bygone year, 
 Thee do I number now 'mongst those most dear 
 To me, to whom my favor is inclined. 
 To one whom truth imbues all undesigned 
 The outward form harmonious must appear, 
 And what to the unskilled may cause but fear 
 Must nobly manifest the master mind. 
 For in whose breast plenty and power upspring 
 To him shall lordship proud o*er words belong. 
 In toilsome rhymes to soar with nimble wing. 
 He fashions the swift arrow of his song 
 Deftly, and whatsoever he may sing 
 Is wrought entire and knows no binding thong. 
 
 (1821) 
 
HAFIZ 
 
 THAT Hafiz is audacious to deny 
 Were vain; such spirits chafe at leading strings; 
 For he is Hke the eagle whose broad wings 
 Strike the bright stars which circle in the sky. 
 You may gaze after him, or mount on high, 
 With him, his cloudless summits, where there springs 
 Full many a bloom, and none the censure brings 
 That all save one he passes heedless by. 
 Whether you spend your powers for good or ill, 
 'Tis but the form inspires with ecstasy 
 The former, his own mission to fulfill. 
 No fool infuses with disharmony, 
 Nor with his dull stupidity can chill. 
 The heart which all through life feels itself free. 
 
 (1821) 
 
HAFIZ 
 
 THAT Hafiz is audacious to deny 
 Were vain; such spirits chafe at leading strings; 
 For he is Hke the eagle whose broad wings 
 Strike the bright stars which circle in the sky. 
 You may gaze after him, or mount on high. 
 With him, his cloudless summits, where there springs 
 Full many a bloom, and none the censure brings 
 That all save one he passes heedless by. 
 Whether you spend your powers for good or ill, 
 *Tis but the form inspires with ecstasy 
 The former, his own mission to fulfill. 
 No fool infuses with disharmony. 
 Nor with his dull stupidity can chill. 
 The heart which all through life feels itself free. 
 
 (1821) 
 
TO J. J. WAGNER 
 
 < 4 A RT is now dead, its message once expressed.' 
 
 /i. I see thee, crying this, turn up thy nose, 
 As were we all stuck in a swamp, nor chose 
 To sail abroad at Poesy's behest. 
 Th* Eternal is sold out, so hast thou guessed. 
 As if we spoke merely of shop-worn hose. 
 That is the strongest trump thou canst disclose, 
 Of all thy tricks that is the trickiest. 
 Never presume, ensnared by whims so vain, 
 To comprehend the Muse*s mysteries; 
 Scarce shall thy wit this end at all attain. 
 Ne'er ask of us, whom falsehoods must displease. 
 Though thee we love, that we should not disdain 
 For love to yield ourselves to such as these. 
 
 (1821) 
 
TO SHAKESPEARE IN HIS SONNETS 
 
 /^H who than thou can pierce the heart s depths 
 
 ^^ deeper ? 
 
 The best the lottery of life can lend 
 
 Is ever thine; and when thy songs ascend 
 
 Then are we silent as a speechless weeper. 
 
 No idle maiden-dreams disturb a sleeper 
 
 Whom we behold so fervently contend 
 
 For friendship, saved from intrigues by thy friend, 
 
 His beauty both thy glory and the keeper 
 
 Of all thy grief. Even the gnawing care, 
 
 Even the sorrows which he doth impose — 
 
 Thou deemest all divine; and howsoever 
 
 He pain thee by the heartlessness he shows, 
 
 Thou ne'er forsak'st him, seeing w^ith despair 
 
 The worm of lust upon the lovely rose. 
 
 (1822) 
 
TO JEAN PAUL 
 
 AS to thine image oft my thoughts would yield, 
 Of duty unfulfilled must I repent, 
 That I have made thee no acknowledgement 
 Of love and gentleness to me revealed. 
 Now hath Death frozen with his Gorgon-shield 
 The gaze once rapturously heavenward bent. 
 And these my wreaths of friendship must be sent 
 After thee to an unfamiliar field. 
 On thy good will my youthful heart depended 
 For cheer, for heat renewed, the smoldering brand 
 0*er which as yet but few faint sparks ascended. 
 And now thy spirit sojourns in command 
 Of youth and health and joy, whither had tended 
 Ever its flight, in the rich Wonderland. 
 
 (1825) 
 
TO RtJCKERT 
 
 THY book yet scarce a third devoured, where Hes 
 Proof of Hariri's art and proof of thine, 
 Aheady what entrancing joys are mine, 
 As I survey each page with frank surprise. 
 When genius, begging through the world, reHes 
 On its own wits alone, *tis seen to shine 
 More genuine, more rare, and more divine 
 Than ever, though a rogue's blouse its disguise. 
 But now a friend and I, if so you please 
 Rather than give two little books away. 
 Must toss up for thy Metamorphoses 
 Of Ebu Seid, Let not my hair grow gray, 
 Nor part me from his virtuosities; 
 So send another little copy, pray. 
 
 (1826) 
 
TO TIECK 
 
 PR palates without taste thou hast selected 
 Fruit from the garden of th* Hesperides. 
 Thy Calderon is ridiculed by these 
 Untutored Germans, as might be expected. 
 The standards of Bad Taste, still undetected 
 And unrebuked, triumph in every breeze; 
 Scarce heeds the victor yet thy mockeries. 
 Merely by words, though harsh, to stand corrected. 
 Let the barbarians then pipe away, 
 Hissing our poets, who themselves resign 
 To popular indifference day by day. 
 But never let them on the light divine 
 Of foreign masters hands of violence lay; 
 And cast no longer pearls before these swine ! 
 
 (1826) 
 
TO WINCKELMANN 
 
 If I escaped canting hypocrasy, 
 
 "*• For this my gratitude be ever thine; 
 
 Thy spirit found what time cannot design. 
 
 Yet found it not in books of piety. 
 
 For thee in heathen works, which lavishly 
 
 Scatter its rays, the heavenly light would shine; 
 
 For what is ever perfect is divine. 
 
 And Christ himself bade that we perfect be. 
 
 Gladly indeed would certain sable frocks 
 
 Perplex the spirit, fain to be at ease, 
 
 Or number us among the hircine flocks. 
 
 Yet cease the heathen to bewail, for these 
 
 Who can breathe forth their spirit into blocks 
 
 Of marble are above our littanies. 
 
 (1826) 
 
TO SOPHOCLES 
 
 GOOD Sophocles, keen to discriminate 
 The point where human and divine dispart, 
 What thou embellishedst with earthly art 
 Celestial voices would reiterate. 
 Knowing its surface, thou couldst penetrate 
 This world's recesses, and th' unspoken smart 
 And silent longing of the human heart 
 Mad'st with thy thousand tongues articulate. 
 Naught hast thou cast in a prosaic mould. 
 But scatterest with rare munificence 
 Dense and resplendent sparks of flaming gold. 
 A holy embassy thou didst dispense, 
 Deep drinking Poesy's draughts, now to unfold 
 The sheen of thy consummate excellence. 
 
 (1826) 
 
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