Schiller AND Horace U.^ut^^-^ Critnskt^!tr BY THE RIGHT HON. LORD LYTTON LOFDON GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS THE BKOADWAY, LUDGATE NEW YORK : 416 BROOME STREET 1875 l^Z'iri LONDON J'.RADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. PKEFATORY NOTE TO THE KNEBWORTH EDITION. A QUARTER of a centnry divided from eacli otTier the two labours of love tlie fruits of wliich are here for the first time placed side by side. It was in 1844 that Sir Edward Lytton's version of the "Poems and Ballads of Schiller " was, in its original piece- meal issue, drawn to a conclusion in the pages of Blade- wood's Magazine; while it was in the April, May, July, and August numbers, for 1868, of the same periodical, that the earliest specimens of the metrical translation of the " Odes and Epodes of Horace " by Lord Lytton were tentatively put forth, without the slightest hint being afforded at the moment as to their authorship. What was avowedly aimed at in each instance was a line for line equivalent. Towards the accomplishment of this object no amount of toil or thought was grudged by the translator. In order to recognise this in the instance of the Schiller translation, it is only necessary to compare the first edition (that of 1845) with the second (that of 1852), both pub- lished by the Messrs. Blackwood. The scrupulous care taken in the revision of the Horace Translation may in the same way be the most readily appreciated upon a compari- son of the first edition, that published in 1869 by the Messrs. Blackwood, with the second, that published in 1870 by the Messrs. Longmans. Here more conspicuously than ever was rendered apparent the fact underlying all Lord Lytton's labours in literature, that he himself was 253207 VI PREFATORY NOTE. liis sevtx'cst critic. "Wherever ia these carefully-elabo- rated versions of Schiller and Horace he has departed from his otherwise invariable practice of translating line by line, and, as far as might be in any way possible, word for word, he has done so only where it seemed expedient to care rather for the poet's leading idea or inner meaning than for his verbal manner of expressing it. It was in the accomplishment of the second of these two scholarly achievements that Lord Lytton gave signal evidence in his maturity of his readiness to modify npon reconsideration one of his long-cherished preferences. When, a quarter of a century before, employing in his version of " The AValk " of Schiller the boldest alternations of rhyme in lieu of the long rhymeless metre of the German original, he had spoken almost disdainfully of the latter as of a "spurious classical metre," which he would not have employed even in the translation of Ovid and Tibullus. When undertaking, long afterwards, however, to express in familiar English the thoughts and words of the master- lyrist of antiquity. Lord Lytton employed those purely rhythmical and strictly rhymeless measures which were but an adaptation to the crucial task of translating Horace, of the metrical experiments already adventured upon by him in his " Lost Tales of Miletus." CONTENTS. POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEK. PAGE :^TiiE Diver. A Ballad 15 *pruE Glove. A Tale 21 The Knight of Toggenbukg 23 The Meeting 26 The Assignation 27 Thk Secret 29 To Emma 30 The Poet to his Friends. (Written at Weimar.) . . 31 Evening. (From a Picture.) 32 TiiR Longing 33 The Pilgrim 34 U- The Dance 35 TH>i Sharing of the Earth 37 The Indian Death-Dirge 38 The Lay of the Mountain 39 The Alp Hunter 41 — . EuDOLF OF Hapsburg. A Ballad 42 "TiFHE Fight with the Dragon 46 Dithyramb ' . . , , 5i The Knights of St. John 55 fTiiE Maiden from Afar (or from Abroad) . . 55, Thh Two Guides oy Life— the Sublime and the Beautiful 56 The Four Ages of the World 57 The Maiden's Lament 60 The Immutable 60 The Veiled Image at Sais 61* The Child in the Cradle . . . . . . . 63 ^ The PvIng op Polycrates. A Ballad 64 VIU CONTENTS. PAGE Hope ey The Sexes 67 Honours 69 Pompeii and Herculaneum . . . . . . .69 Light and "Warmth 71 Breadth and Depth 72 ^x^HE Philosophical Egoist 72 Fridolin ; OR, The Message to the Forge .... 73 The Youth by the Brook 80 To THE Ideal 81 Philosophers 84 Punch Song 85 Punch Song. To be Sung in the North . . . . 86 ^"^EGAsus IN Harness 88 - Hero and Leander. A Ballad 90 The Playing Infant . 98 Cassandra 98 u'The Victory Feast • . . 102 '^T'The Cranes of Ibycus 107 The Hostage. A Ballad 113 The Comi^aint of Ceres 117 i/T'he Eleusinian Festia^al 122 Parables and Riddles . . . . . . . . 129 The Might of Song 135 ,^ Honour to AVoman. (Literally "Dignity of Women.") . 137 The Words of Belief 138 The Words of Error 139 The Merchant 140 ..^ The German Art 141 |/^HE Walk 141 iXThe Lay of the Bell 150 The Poetry of Life 163 The Antique at Paris. (Free Translation.) . . . 164 The Maid of Orleans 165 Thekla. (A Spirit Yoice.) 165 William Tell 166 Archimedes 167 Carthage 167 Columbus 168 NiBNIA 168 Jove to Hercules 169 y^luE Ideal and the Actual Life 169 t CONTENTS. IX PAGE The Favour of the Moment 175 The Fortune-Favouked 176 The Sower 179 Sentences of Confucius 179 The Antique to the Northern Wandj-jikii . . . . 180 Genius. (Free Translation.) 181' Ulysses 183 Votive Tablets : Motto to the Votive Tablets 183 . The Good and the Beautiful (Zvveierlei Wirkungs- arten) 183 Value AND Worth 184 The Division of Ranks 184 To THE Mystic. , . . * 184 The Key 184 "Wisdom and Prudence 184 The Unanimity . 185 The Science of Politics 185 To Astronomers 185 The Best Governed State 186 My Belief 186 Friend and Foe 186 Light and Colour . 186 Forum of Women . 186 Genius 186 The Imitator 187 Correctness. (Free Translation.) . . . . 187 The Master 187 Expectation and Fulfilment 187 The Epic Hexameter. (Teanslated by Coleridge.) . 187 The Elegiac Metre. (Translated by Coleridge.) . 188 Other Epigrams, &c. : The Proselyte Maker 188 The Connecting Medium 188 The Moral Poet 188 The Sublime Theme 189 Science 189 Kant and his Commrntators 189 the Hereditary Prince of Saxe-Weimar, on his Journey to Paris. Written February, 1802 . . 189 To a Young Friend devoting himself to Philosophy . 190 The Puppet-Show of Life. (Das Spiel des Lebens.) A Paraphrase 191 X CONTENTS. PAGE The Mixstrels of Old 192' T«E COMMEXCEMENT OF THE NeW CeNTUIIV .... 193 ^-^lYTiiN TO Joy 196 The Invincible Arjuada . . . . . . . 199 The Conflict . 200 /.Resignation 201 v^he Gods of Greece 203 The Artists 207 The Celebrated AYo:srAN. An Epistle by a Married Man— to a Fellow-Sufferer 226 To A Female Friend. (Written in her Album.). . . 232 FIRST PERIOD; OR, EARLY POEMS. Hector and Andromache 234 Amalia . 255 A Funeral Fantasie 236 Fantasie to Laura 238 To Laura Playing 240 To Laura. (Rapture.) 242 To Laura. (The ]\[ystery of Keminiscexce.) . 242 Melancholy ; to Laura 244 The Infanticibe 248 The G.'ieatness of Creation . . . . 253 Elegy on the Death of a Youth .... 254 The Battle 257 IvOusseau. (Free Translation.) 259 Friendship 259 A Group in Tartarus 261 Elysium 262 The Refugee 263 The Flowers 264 To Minna 265 To the Spring 266 The Triumph of Love. (A Hymn.) .... 267 To A Moralist 271 Fortune and AVisdom 272 Count Eberhard, the Quarreller (der Greiner) of AVURTEMBERG . 272 Farewell to the Reader. (Transferred from the Third Period.) . 275 CONTENTS. XI ODES AND EPODES OF HORACE. THE ODES. — » — BOOK I. ODE PAGE I. Dedicatory Ode to ]\r/i:cENAs .... 283 II. To CiESAR 286 III. On Virgil's Voyage to Atiikn-s .... 289 IV. To Lucius Sestius 291 V. To Pyrriia 292 VI. To M. VirsANius Aor.iirA 293 VII. To Plakcus 295 VIII. To Lydia 297 IX. To Thaliarchus 298 X. To Mercury 299 XL To LeucoxoiS 301 XII. In Celebration of the Deities and the Worthies OF Home 302 XIIL To Lydia 304 XIV. The Ship— an Allegory 305 XV. The Prophecy of Nereus 307 XVI. Recantation 309 XVII. Invitation to Tyndaris 310 XVIIL To Varus 311 XIX. To Glycera 313 XX. To M^cenas 314 XXI. In Praise of Diana and Apollo . . . .314 XXII. To Aristius Fuscus 315 XXIIL To Chloe 317 XXIV. To Vii;gil on the Death of Quinctiltus Vakus. 318 XXV. To Lydia . 319 XXVL To L. A^uvs Lamia 319 XXVII. To Boon Companions 320 XXVIII. Archytas 321 XXIX. To Iccius 325 XXX. Venus invoked to GLYciiRA's Fane . . . 325 XXXI. Prayer to Apollo 326 XXXI I. To HIS Lyre 327 XXXIII. To Albius Tibullus 327 Xil CONTENTS. ODE PAGE XXXIV. To Himself 328 XXXV. To Fortune 330 XXXVI. On Numida's Eeturn from Spain . . . . 332 XXXVII. On the Fall of Cleopatra 333 XXXVIII. To HIS Wine-Server 334 BOOK II. I. To AsiNius PoLLio 336 II. To C. Sallustius Crispus, Grand-Nephew of the Historian 337 III. To Q. Dellius 339 IV. To Xanthias Phoceus 340 V. To Gabinius 341 VI. To Septimius 342 VII. To Pompeius Varus 343 VIII. To Barine 345 IX. To C. Valgius Rufus . . . . . .346 X. To Ltcinius 348 XL To QuiNTius Hirpinus 349 XII. To MAECENAS 350 XIII. To A Tree . . . • 351 XIV. To PosTUMUS 353 XV. On THE Immoderate Luxury of the Age . . 354 XVI. To Pompeius Grosphus 355 XVIi. To M^cenas 357 XVIII. Against the grasping Ambition of the Covetous 359 XIX. In Honour of Bacchus . . . . . .• 362 XX. On his Future Fame 364 BOOK III. I. On the AVisdom of Content . . ... 367 11. The Discipline of Youth 370 III. On Steadfastness of Purpose . . . . 372 IV. Invocation to Calliope 376 V. The Soldier Forfeits his Country aviio Sur- renders Himself to the Enemy in Battle . 382 VI. On the Social Corruption of the Ti.aie . . 385 VII. To AsTERiA 387 VIII. To MAECENAS, ON THE ANNIVERSARY OF HoRACE's Escape irom the Falling Tree . . . 339 IX. The Reconciliation 390 X. To Lyce 392 . 406 . . 408 . 408 THE Age 409 CONTENTS. XIU ODK PAGE XI. To THE Lyke 393 XII. Neobule's Soliloquy 396 XIII. To THE Bakbusian Fountain 397 XIV. On the Anticipated Retuhn of Augustus fhom THE Cantabhian War 398 XV. On an Old Woman affecting Youth . . . 399 XVI. Gold the Corruptou 400 XVII. To L. iELius Lamia 402 XVIII. To Faunus 403 XIX. To Telephus.— In Honour of Murena's Instal- lation in the College of Augurs . . . 404 XX. (Omitted.) XXI. To MY Cask XXII. Votive Inscription to Diana . XXIII. To Phidyle XXIV. On the Money-seeking Tendencies of XXV. Hymn to Bacchu« 412 XXVI. Venus 414 XXVII. To Galatea undertaking a Journey . . . 415 XXVIII. On the Feast-day of Neptune .... 418 XXIX. Invitation to Maecenas 419 XXX. Prediction of his own Future Fame . . . 422 THE SECULAR HYMN . . 423 BOOK ly. I. To Venus 430 II. To Iulus Antonius 431 III. To Melpomene 434 IV. In Praise of Drusus and the Race of the Neros 436 V. To Augustus, that he would Hasten his Return to Rome 440 VI. To Apollo 442 Vn. To Torquatus 444 VIII. To Censorinus 445 IX. To LoLLius 447 X. (Omitted.) XI. To Phyllis 450 XII. Invitation to Virgil 452 XIII. To Lyce, a Faded Beauty 454 XIV. To Augustus after the Victories of Tiberius . 456 XV. To Augustus on the Restoration of Peace . 458 XIV CONTENTS. THE EPpDES. f— PAG iNTBODrCTIOK , , .46 XPODE I. To ALecekas 46 II. Alfius. — The Chaems of Eueal Life . . .46 III. To MiCEXAS IN Execration of Gaelic . , . 46 IV. Against an Upstaet 46 V. On the Witch Canidia 46 VI. Against Cassius 47 VII. To the Romans 47 VIII. (Omitted.) IX. To M^CENAS ^47 X. On Mjea'its Setting Out on a Voyage . . . 47 XI. AND XII. (Omitted.) XIII. To Feiends 4S XIV. To MAECENAS in Excuse foe Indolence in Com- pleting the Veeses he had Peomised . .4^ XV. To Ne^pjv. 4S XVI. To the Roman People (oe kathee to his own Political Feiends) 48 XVII. To Canidia— IN Apology 4- Cakidia's Reply 49 THE POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. THE DIVER. A BALLAD. [The original of the story on which Schiller has founded this ballad, matchless perhaps for the power and grandeur of its descriptions, is to be found in Kirchcr, According to Ihe true principles of imitative art, Schiller has preserved all that is striking in the legend, and ennobled all that is commonplace. The name of the Diver was Nicholas, sumamed the Fish. The King appears, according to Hoffmeister's probable conjectures, to have been either Frederic I. or Frederic II., of Sicily. Date fiom 1295 to 1377.] *' Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold, As to dive to the howling charjbdis below ?— I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold, And o'er it already the dark waters flow ; Whoever to me may the goblet bring, Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king." He spoke, and the cup from the teiTible steep. That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge Of the endless and measureless world of the deep, Swirl'd into the maelstrom that madden'd the sui'ge, " And where is the diver so stout to go— I ask ye again — to the deep below ? " And the knights and the squires that gather'd around, Stood silent — and fix'd on the ocean their eyes ; They look'd on the dismal and savage Profound, And the peril chill'd back every thought of the prize. And thrice spoke the monarch — " The cup to win, Is there never a wight who Avill venture in ? " 16 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. And all as before heard in silence the king — Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle, 'Mid the tremulous squires — stept out from the ring, Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle ; And the murmuring crowd as they parted asunder, On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder. As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave One glance on the gulf of that merciless main ; Lo ! the wave that for ever devours the wave, Casts roaringly up the charybdis again ; And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom. Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom. And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,* As when fire is with water commix'd and contending, id the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars, And flood upon flood hurries on, never-ending, id it never will rest, nor from travail be free, ke a sea that is labouring the birth of a sea. t, at length, comes a lull o'er the mighty commotion, is the whirlpool sucks into black smoothness the swell the white-foaming breakers — and cleaves thro' the ocean V path that seems winding in darkness to hell. lie and and round whirl'd the waves — deeper and deeper still driven, ! ;. e a gorge thro' the mountainous main thunder-riven ! 'i'hc youth gave his trust to his Maker ! Before "! hat path through the riven abyss closed again — * 'I k ! a shriek from the crowd rang aloft from the shore, nd, behold ! he is whirl'd in the grasp of the main ! . o'er him the breakers mysteriously roll'd, the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold. Und es wallet, und siedet, und brauset, und zischt," &c. Goethe V ;■ ; irticularly struck with the truthfulness of these lines, of which his al observation at the Falls of the Ehine enabled him to judge. .;r modestly owns his obligations to Homer's descriptions of Charybdis, !, fi 1. 12. The property of the higher order of imagination to reflect Uai-ii, though not familiar to experience, is singularly illustrated in this deacriptiou. Schiller had never seen even a Waterfall, THE DIVER. 17 O'er the surface grim silence lay dark ; but the crowd Heard the wail from the deep murmur hollow and fell ; They harken and shudder, lamenting aloud — " Gallant youth — noble heart — fare-thee-well, fare-thee- well!" More hollow and more wails the deep on the ear — More dread and more dread grows suspense in its fear. If thou shouldst in those waters thy diadem fling, And cry, " Who may find it shall win it and Avear ; " God wot, though the prize were the crown of a king — A crown at such hazard were valued too dear. For never shall lips of the living reveal What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal. Oh, many a bark, to that breast grappled fast. Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave; Again, crash'd together the keel and tlie mast, To be seen, toss'd aloft in the glee of the wave. — Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer. Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer. And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars, As when fire is with water commix'd and contending ; And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars, And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending ; And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom, Hushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom. And, lo ! from the heart of that far-floating gloom,* What gleams on the darkness so swanlike and white ? Lo ! an arm and a neck, glancing up from the tomb ! — They battle — the Man's with the Element's might. It is he — it is he ! in his left hand behold. As a sign — as a joy ! — shines the goblet of gold ! And he breathed deep, and he breathed long, And he greeted the heavenly delight of the day. They gaze on each other — they shout, as they throng-^ " He lives — lo the ocean has render'd its prey ! * The same rliymc aa the precciling liuo in the orijjiiial. 18 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. And safe from the whirlpool and free from the grave, Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave ! " And he comes, with the crowd in their clamonr and glee. And the goblet his daring has won from the water, He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee ; — And the king from her maidens has beckon'd h daughter — She pours to the boy the bright wine which they bring, And thus spake the Diver — " Long life to the king ! " Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice. The air and the sky that to mortals are given ! May the horror below never more find a voice — Nor Man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven ! Never more — never more may he lift from the sight The veil which is woven with Terror and Night ! " Quick-brightening like lightning — it tore me along, Down, down, till the gush of a torrent, at play In the rocks of its wilderness, caught me — and strong As the wings of an eagle, it whirl'd me away. Vain, vain was my struggle — the circle had won me, Bound and round in its dance, the wild element spun me "And I caird on my God, and my God heard my prayer In the strength of my need, in the gasp of my breath- And show'd me a crag that rose up from the lair. And I clung to it, nimbly — and baffled the death ! And, safe in the perils around me, behold On the spikes of the coral the goblet of gold. " Below, at the foot of the precipice drear. Spread the gloomy, and purple, and pathless Obscure A silence of Horror that slept on the ear, That the eye more appall' d might the Horror endure ! Salamander — snake — dragon — vast reptiles that dwell In the deep — coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell. " Dark-crawl'd — glided dark the unspeakable swarms, Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast — Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms — Here the dark-moving bulk of the Hammer-fish pass*c THE DIVER. 19 And with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion, Went the terrible Shark — the Hysena of Ocean. " There I hung, and the awe gather'd icilj o'er me, So far from the earth, where man's help there was none I The One Human Thing, with the Goblins before me — Alone — in a loneness so ghastly — alone ! Fathom-deep from man's eye in the speechless profound. With the death of the Main and the Monsters around. " Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, tbat now It * saw — the dread hundred-limbed creature — its prey ! And darted — God ! from the far flaming-bough Of the coral, I swept on the horrible way ; And it seized me, the wave with its wrath and its roar, It seized me to save — King, the danger is o'er ! " On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvell'd ; quoth he, " Bold Diver, the goblet I promised is thine. And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee, Never jewels more precious shone np from the mine ; If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again ; To say what lies hid in the innermost main ? " Then outspake the daughter in tender emotion : " Ah ! father, my father, what more can there rest ? Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean — He has served thee as none would, thyself has confest. If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire. Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire ! " The king seized the goblet — he swung it on high, And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide : *' But bring back that goblet again to my eye. And I'll hold thee the dearest tliat rides by my side ; And thine arms shall embrace, as thy bride, I decree, The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee." * " (la krocli's hcran," &c. The It in tlic original has been greatly admired. The poet thus vnguelj represents tlie fabulous luisshapcu monster, the Polypus of the ancicuts. c 2 20 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. In his heart, as he listen'd, there leapt the wild joy — And the hope and the love through his eyes spoke in fire, On that bloom, on that blush, gazed delighted the boy ; The maiden — she faints at the feet of her sire ! Here the guerdon divine, there the danger beneath ; He resolves ! To the strife with the life and the death ! They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell, Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along ! Fond eyes * yet are tracking the spot where he fell : They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng. Roaring up to the cliff — roaring back, as before. But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore. This ballad is the first composed by Schiller, if Ave except his early and ruder lay of " Count Eberhard, the Quarrcllcr," which really, however, has more of the true old ballad spirit about it than those grand and artistic- tales elaborated by his riper genius and belonging to a school of poetry, to which the ancient Ballad singer certainly never pretended to aspire. . . The old Ballad is but a simple narrative, without any symbolical or interior meaning, . . But in most of the performances to wnich Schiller has given the name of Ballad, a certain purpose, not to say philosophy, in conception, elevates the Narrative into Dramatic dignity. .". . Kightly, for instance, has "The Diver" been called a LjTical Tragedy in two Acts — the first act ending with the disappearance of the hero amidst the whirl- pool ; and the conception of the contest of Man's will with physical Nature, .... together with the darkly hinted moral, not to stretch too far the mercy of Heaven, . . . belong in themselves to the design and the ethics of Tragedy. There is another peculiarity in the art wliich Schiller emijloys upon his nan-ative poems. — Though he usually enters at once on the interest of his story, and adopts, for the most part, the simple and level style of recital, he selects a subject admitting naturally of some striking picture, upon which he lavishes those resources of description that are only at the command of a great poet ; . . . thus elevating the ancient ballad not only into something of the Drama, by conception, but into something of the Epic hj execution. — The reader will recognise this peculiarity in the description of the Charybdis and the Abyss in the Ballad he has just concluded — in that of the Storm in " Hero and Leander " — of the Forge and the Catholic Ritual in "Fridolin" — of the Furies in the "Cranes of Ibycus," &c. . . . We have the more drawn the reader's notice to these distinctions between the simple ballad of the ancient minstrels, and the artistical nairatives of Schiller — because it seems to us, that our English critics are too much inclined to consider that modern Ballad-writing succeeds or fails in proportion as it seizes merely the spirit of the ancient. . . . But this would but lower genius to an exercise of the same imitative ingenuity which a school-boy or a college prizeman displays upon Latin Lyrics ... in which the merit con- sists in the avoidance of originality. The Great Poet cannot be content with only imitating what he studies : And he succeeds really in proportion not * Viz. : the King's Daughter. Hoff'meistcr, Sup. iv. 301. THE GLOVE. 21 to his fidelity but his innovations . . . that is, in proportion as ho improves upon what serves him as a model. In the ballad of "The Diver," Schiller not only sought the simple but the sublime. — According to his own just theory — " The Main Ingredient of Terror is the Unknown." He here seeks to accomplish as a poet what he before ijcrceived as a critic. . . . And certainly the picture of his lonely Diver amidst the horrors of the Abyss, dwells upon the memory amongst the sublimest conceptions of modern Poetry. THE GLOVE. A TALE. [The original of this well-known story is in St. Foix—^Hnsai stir Paris) date the reign of Francis I.] Before his lion-courfc, To see the griesly sport, Sate the king ; Beside him group'd his princely peers, And dames aloft, in circling tiers, Wreath'd round their blooming ring. King Francis, where he sate. Raised a finger — ^yawn'd the gate, And, slow from his repose, A Liox goes ! Dambly he gazed around The foe- encircled ground ; And, with a lazy gape. He stretch'd his lordly shape, And shook his careless mane, And — laid him down again ! A finger raised the king — And nimbly have the guard A second gate unbarr'd ; Forth, w ith a rushing spring, A TIGER sprung ! Wildly the wild one yell'd When the lion he beheld ; And, bristling at the look. With his tail his sides he strook, And roll'd his rabid ton<]:ue ; 22 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. In many a wary ring He swept round the forest king, With a fell and rattling sound ; — And laid him on the ground, Grommelling ! The king raised his finger ; then Leap'd two leopards from the den With a bound ; And boldly bounded they Where the crouching tiger lay Terrible ! And he griped the beasts in his deadly hold ; In the grim embrace they grappled and roll'd ; Rose the lion with a roar ! And stood the strife before ; And the wild-cats on the spot, From the blood-thirst, wroth and hot, Halted still ! Now from the balcony above, A snowy hand let fall a glove : — Midway between the bea,sts of prey, Lion and tiger ; there it lay. The winsome lady's glove ! Fair Cunigonde said, with a lip of scorn. To the knight Deloeges — " If the love you have sworn Were as gallant and leal as you boast it to be, I might ask you to bring back that glove to me ! " The knight left the place where the lady sate ; The knight he has pass'd thro' the fearful gate ; The lion and tiger he stoop'd above, And his fingers have closed on the lady's glove ! All shuddering and stunn'd, they beheld him there — The noble knights and the ladies fair ; But loud was the joy and the praise the while He bore back the glove with his tranquil smije ! ^' With a tender look in her softening eyes, That promised reward to his warmest sighs, THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBUKG. 23 Fair Cnnigonde rose her kniglit to grace, He toss'd the glove in the lady's face ! " Nay, spare me the guerdon, at least," quoth he ; And he left for ever that fair ladye ! THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG. [In this beautiful ballad, ScMller is but little indebted to the true legend of Toggenburg, which is nevertheless well adapted to Narrative Poetry. Ida, wife of Henry Count of Toggenburg, was suspected by her husband of a guilty attachment to one of his vassals, and ordered to be thrown from a high wall. Her life, however, was miraculouslj'^ saved ; she lived for some time as a female hermit in the neighbouring forest, till she was at length discovered, and her innocence recognised. She refused to Kve again with the Lord whose jealousy had wronged her, retired to a convent, and was acknowledged as a saint after her death. This Legend, if abandoned by Schiller, has found a German Poet not unworthy of its simple beauty and pathos. Schiller has rather founded his poem, which sufficiently tells its own tale, upon a Tyrolese Legend, similar to the one that yet consecrates Eolandseck and Nonnenworth on the Rhine. HofFmeister implies that, unlike "The Diver," and some other of Schiller's Ballads, "The Knight of Toggenburg " dispenses with all intellectual and typical meaning, draws its poetry from feeling, and has no other purpose than that of moving the heart. Still upon Feeling itself are founded those ideal truths which make up the true philosophy of a Poet. In these few stanzas are represented the poetical chivalry of an age — the contest between the earthly passion and the religious devotion, which constantly agitated human life in the era of the Crusades. How much of deep thought lias been employed to arouse the feelings — what intimate conviction of the moral of the middle ages, in the picture of the Knight looking up to the convent — of the Nun bowing calmly to the vale !] " Knight, a sister's quiet love Gives my heart to thee ! Ask me not for other love, For it paineth me ! Calmly could' st thou greet me now, Calmly from me go ; Calmly ever, — why dost thou Weep in silence, so ? " Sadly — (not a word he said !) — To the heart she wrung, Sadly clasp'd he once the maid, On his steed he sprung ! " Up, my men of Swisserland ! ** Up awake the brave ! Forth they go — the Red -Cross band, To the Saviour's grave ! 24- POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE. Higli your deeds, and great your fame, Heroes of the tomb ! Glancing through the carnage came Many a dauntless plume. Terror of the Moorish foe, Toggenburg, thou art ! But thy heart is heavy ! Oh, Heavy is thy heart ! Heavy was the load his breast For a twelvemonth bore : Never can his trouble rest ! And he left the shore. Lo ! a ship on Joppa's strand, Breeze and billow fair. On to that beloved land, Where she breathes the air ! Knocking at her castle-gate Was the pilgrim heard ; Woe the answer from the grate ! Woe the thunder-word ! *' She thou seekest lives — a Nun ! To the world she died ! When, with yester-morning's sun, Heaven received a Bride ! " From that day, his father's hall Ne'er his home may be ; Helm, and hauberk, steed and all. Evermore left he ! Where his castle- crowned height Frowns the valley down. Dwells unknown the hermit-knight, In a sackcloth gown. E-ude the hut he built him there, Where his eyes may view Wall and cloister glisten fair Dusky lindens through.* * In this description (thougli to the best of our recollection, it has escaped the vigilance of his many coinineutators) Schiller evidently has his THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG. 2o There, when dawn was in the skies, Till the eve-star shone, Sate he with mute wistful eyes, Sate he there — alone ! Looking to the cloister, still, Looking forth afar, Looking to her lattice — till Clink'd the lattice-bar. Till — a passing glimpse allowed — Paused her image pale, Calm and angel-mild, and bow'd Meekly tow'rds the vale. Then the watch of day was o'er, Then, consoled awhile, Down he lay, to greet once more, Morning's early smile. Days and years are gone, and still Looks he forth afar. Uncomplaining, hoping — till Clinks the lattice-bar : Till, — a passing glimpse allow'd, — Paused her image pale. Calm, and angel-mild, and bow'd Meekly tow'rds the vale. So, upon that lonely spot. Sate he, dead at last, With the look where life was not Tow'rds the casement cast ! eye and his mind upon the scene of his early childhood at Lorch, a scene to wliich in later life he was fondly attached. The village of Lorch lies at the foot of a hill crowned with a convent, before the walls of which springs an old linden or lime tree. The ruined castle of Hohcnstaufen is in the immediate neighbourhood. 26 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. THE MEETING. [This poem and the two that immediately follow, appear to have hoen inspired by Charlotte von Lengefeld, whom Schiller afterwards married.] I. I SEE her still, with many a fair one nigh, Of every fair the stateliest shape appear : Like a lone sun she shone upon my eye — I stood afar, and durst not venture near. Seized, as her presence brighten'd round me, by The trembling passion of voluptuous fear. Yet, swift, as borne upon some hurrying wing, The impulse snatch'd me, and I struck the string ! II. What then I felt — what sung — my memory hence From that wild moment would in vain invoke — It was the life of some discover'd sense That in the heart's divine emotion spoke ; Long years imprison'd, and escaping thence Erom every chain, the Soul enchanted broke, And found a music in its own deep core. Its holiest, deepest deep, unguess'd before. III. Like melody long hush'd, and lost in space, Back to its home the breathing spirit came : I look'd, and saw upon that angel face The fair love circled with the modest shame ; I heard (and heaven descended on the place) Low-whisper'd words a charmed truth proclaim — Save in thy choral hymns, spirit-shore, Ne'er may I hear such thrilling sweetness more ! IV. " I know the worth within the heart which sighs, Yet shuns, the modest sorrow to declare ; And what rude Fortune niggardly denies. Love to the noble can with love repair. The lowly have the birthright of the skies ; Love only culls the flower that love should wear ; THE ASSIGNATION. 27 And ne'er in vain for love's rich gifts shall yearn The heart that feels their wealth — and can return ! " ^^ THE ASSIGNATION. [Note.— In Schiller the eight long lines that conclude each stanza (.f this charming love-poem, instead of rliyining alternately, as in the trans- lation, chime somewhat to the tune of Byron's IJoji Juan — six lines rhyming with eacli other, and tlio two last forniing a separate couplet. In other respects the translation, it is hoped, is sufficiently close and literal.] I. Hear I the creaking gate unclose ? The gleaming latch uplifted ? No — 'twas the wind that, whirring, rose, Amidst the poplars drifted ! Adorn thyself, thou green leaf-bowering roof, Destined the Bright One's presence to receive, For her, a shadowy palace-hall aloof With holy Night, thy boughs familiar weave. And ye sweet flatteries of the delicate air. Awake and sport her rosy cheek around, When their light weight the tender feet shall bear. When Beauty comes to Passion's trysting-ground. II. Hush ! what amidst the copses crept — So swiftly by me now ? No — 'twas the startled bird that swept The light leaves of the bough ! Day, quench thy torch ! come, ghost-like, from on high, With thy loved Silence, come, thou haunting Eve, Broaden below thy web of purple dye. Which lulled boughs mysterious round us weave. For love's delight, enduring listeners none, The froward witness of the light will flee ; Hesper alone, the rosy Silent One, Down-glancing may our sweet Familiar bo ! This is the only one of Schiller's poems that reminds us of the Italian poets, —It has in it something of the sweet mannerism of Petrarch. i. 28 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. III. What murmur in tlie distance spoke, And like a whisper died ? No ! — 'twas the swan that gently broke In rings the silver tide ! Soft to ray ear there comes a music-flow ; In gleesome murmur glides the waterfall ; To Zephyr's kiss the flowers are bending low ; Through life goes joy, exchanging joy with all. Tempt to the touch the grapes — the blushing fruit, Voluptuous swelling from the leaves that hide ; And, drinking fever from my cheek, the mute Air sleeps all liquid in the Odour-Tide ! IV. Hark ! through the alley hear I now A footfall ? Comes the maiden ? No, — 'twas the fruit slid from the bough, With its own richness laden ! Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death. And pale and paler w^ane his jocund hues, The flowers too gentle for his glowing breath. Ope their frank beauty to the twilight dews. The bright face of the moon is still and lone, Melts in vast masses the world silently ; Slides from each charm the slowly-loosening zone j And round all beauty, veilless, roves the eye. V. What yonder seems to glimmer ? Her white robe's glancing hues ? — No, — 'twas the column's shimmer Athwart the darksome yews ! 0, longing heart, no more delight-upbuoy'd Let the sweet airy image thee befool ! The arms that would embrace her clasp the void : This feverish breast no phantom-bliss can cool. * The Peach. THE SECRET. 29 0, waft her here, the true^ the living one ! Let but my hand licr hand, the tender, feel — The very shadow of her robe alone ! — So into life the idle dream shall steal ! As glide from heaven, when least we ween, The rosy hours of bliss, All gently came the maid, unseen : — He waked beneath her kiss ! THE SECRET. And not a word by her was spoken ; For many a listener's ear was by, But sweetly was the silence broken, For eye could well interpret eye. Soft to thy hush'd pavilion stealing, Thou fair, far- spreading Beech, I glide, Thy favouring veil our forms concealing, And all the garish world denied. From far, with dull, unquiet clamour. Labours the vex'd and busy day. And, through the hum, the sullen hammer Comes heaving down its heavy way. Thus man pursues his weary calling. And wrings the hard life from the sky. While happiness unseen is falling Down from God's bosom silently. O, all unheard be still the lonely Delights in our true love embrac'd. The hearts that never loved can only Disturb the well they shun to taste. The world but searches to destroy her. The Bliss conceal'd from vulgar eyes— In secret seize, in stealth enjoy her. Ere watchful Envy can surprise. 30 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Soft, upon tiptoe, comes she greeting, Thro' silent night she loves to stray, A nymph, that fades to air, if meeting One gaze her mysteries to betray. Roll round us, roll, thou softest river,* Thy broad'ning stream, a barrier given, And guard with threat'ning waves for ever This one last Heritao^e of Heaven ! TO EMMA. I. Amidst the cloud- grey deeps afar The Bliss departed lies ; How linger on one lonely star The loving wistful eyes ! Alas — a star in truth — the light Shines but a sisrnal of the nis^ht ! If lock'd within the icy chill Of the long sleep, thou wert — My faithful grief could find thee still A life within my heart ; — But, oh, the worse despair to see Thee live to earth, and die to me ! III. Can those sweet longing hopes, which make Love's essence, thus decay ? Can that be love which doth forsake ? — That love — which fades away ? That earthly gifts are brief, I knew — Is that all heaven-born mortal too ? * Probably the river Saale, on the banks of which Scliiller was accus- tomed to meet liis Charlotte. THE POET TO HIS FRIENDS. 31 THE POET TO HIS FRIENDS. (written at WEIMAR.) I. Friends, fairer times have been (Who can deny ?) than we ourselves have seen ; And an old race of more majestic worth. Were History silent on the Past, in sooth, A thousand stones would witness of the truth Which men disbury from the womb of earth. But yet that race, if more endowed than ours Is past ! — no joy to death can glory give ; But we — we are — to us the breathing hours, They have the best — who live ! II. Suns are of happier ray Than where, not ill, we while our life away, If the far-wandering traveller speaks aright ; But much which Nature hath to us denied Hath not kind Art, the genial friend, supplied, And our hearts warm'd beneath her mother-light ! Tho' native not beneath our winters keen. Or bays or myrtle — for our mountain shrines And hardy brows, their lusty garlands green Weave the thick-clustering vines. III. Well may proud hearts take pleasure AVhere change four worlds their intermingled treasure, And Trade's great pomp the wanderer may behold, Where, on rich Thames, a thousand sails unfurl'd Or seek or leave the market of the world — And throned in splendour sits the Earth-god, — gold. But never, in the mire of troubled streams, Swell'd by wild torrents from the mountain's breast, But on the still wave's mirror, the soft beams Of happy sunshine rest.* * Tliesc lines afford on^ of the many instances of the peculiar tena- city -with Avliich Schiller retained certain favourite ideas. At the age of 32 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Prouder and more elate Than we o' the North, beside the Angel's Gate * The beggar basking views eternal Rome ! Round to his gaze bright- swarming beauties given, And, lioly in the heaven, a second heaven, The world's large wonder, hangs St. Peter's Dome. Bat Rome in all her glory is a grave, The Past, that ghost of power, alone is hers, Strew'd by the green Hours, where the young leaves wave Breathes all the life that stirs ! Elsewhere are nobler things Than to our souls our scant existence brings : The New beneath the sun hath never been. Yet still the greatness of each elder age We see — the conscious phantoms of the stage — As the world finds its symbol on the scene. t Life but repeats itself, all stale and worn ; Sweet Phantasy alone is young for ever ; What ne'er and nowhere on the earth was born J Alone grows aged never. EVENING. (from a picture.) Sink, shining god — tired Nature halts ; and parch'd Earth needs the dews ; adown the welkin arch'd Falter thy languid steeds j — Sink in thy ocean halls ! Who beckons from the crystal waves unto thee ? Knows not thy heart the smiles of love that woo thee ? Quicken the homeward steeds ! The silver Thetis calls ! seventeen lie liad said, "Not on the stormy sea, but on tlie calm and glassy stream, does the sun reflect itself." — See Hoffmeister, Part iv., p. 39. * St. Peter's Church. t The signification of those lines in the original has been disputed— we accept Hoffmeister' s intei-pretation. — Part vi., p. 40. X " The light that never was on sea or land. The Consecration and the Poet's Dream." — Wordsworth. THE LONGING. 33 Swiffc to her arms he springs, and, with the bridle Young Eros toys — the gladdening steeds (as idle The giiideless chariot rests) The cool wave bend above ; And Night, with gentle step and melancholy, Breathes low through heaven ; with her comes Love the holy- Phoebus the lover rests,— Be all life, rest and love ! THE LONGING. Feom out this dim and gloomy hollow, Where hang the cold clouds heavily, Could I but gain the clue to follow, How blessed would the journey be ! Aloft I see a fair dominion, Through time and change all vernal still ; But where the power, and what the pinion. To gain the ever-blooming hill ? Afar I hear the music ringing — The lulling sounds of heaven's repose. And the light gales are downward bringing The sweets of flowers the mountain knows. I see the fruits, all golden-glowing. Beckon the glossy leaves between, And o'er the blooms that there are blowing Nor blight nor winter's wrath hath been. To suns that shine for ever, yonder, O'er fields that fade not, sweet to flee : The very winds that there may wander, How healing must their breathing be ! But lo, between us rolls a river — O'er whicli the wrathful tempest raves ; I feel the soul within me shiver To gaze upon the gloomy waves. 34 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. A rocking boat mine eyes discover, But, woe is me, the pilot fails ! — In, boldly in — undaunted over ! And trust tlie life that swells the sails ! Thou must believe, and thou must voiture, In fearless faith thy safety dwells ; * By miracles alone men enter The glorious Land of Miracles ! THE PILGRIM. Youth's gay spring-time scarcely knowing Went I forth the world to roam — And the dance of youth, the glowing, Left I in my Father's home. Of my birthright, glad-believing, Of my w^orld-gear took I none, Careless as an infant, cleaving To my pilgrim staff alone. For I placed my mighty hope in Dim and holy w^ords of Faith, " Wander forth — the way is open Ever on the upward path — Till thou gain the Golden Portal, Till its gates unclose to thee. There the Earthly and the Mortal, Deathless and Divine shall be ! " Night on Morning stole, on stealeth, Never, never stand I still. And the Future yet concealeth, What I seek, and what I will ! Mount on mount arose before me. Torrents hemm'd me every side. Bat I built a bridge that bore mo O'er the roaring tempest-tide. Towards the East I reach'd a river, On its shores I did not rest ; Faith from Danger can deliver, And I trusted to its breast. f " "Wo kein 'Wunder gescliiclit, ist kein Bcgliickter zu sehn." SCHILLEK, Das GliicJc. THE DAi^CE. 35 ■Drifted in the whii'ling motion, Seas themselves around me roll — Wide and wider spreads the ocean, Far and farther flies the goal. While I live is never given Bridge or wave the goal to near — Earth will never meet the Heaven, Never can the There be Here ! The two poems of " The Longing " and " The Pilgrim " belong to a class Avhich may be said to allegorise Feeling, and the meaning, agreeably to the genius of allegory or parable, has been left somewhat obscure. The com- mentators agree m referring both poems to the illustration of the Ideal. " The Longing " represents the desire to escape from the real "world into the higher realms of being. " The Pilgrim " represents the active labour of the idealist to reach "the Golden Gate." The belief in what is beyond Ileality is necessary to all who would escape from the Real ; and in " The Longing " it is intimated that that belief may attain the end. But " The Pilgrim," after all his travail, finds that the earth will never reach the heaven, and the There never can be Sere. The two poems are certainly capable of an interpretation at once loftier and more familiar than that Avhich the commentators give to it. They are apparently intended to express the natural human feeling — common not to poets alone, but to us all — the human feeling which approaches to an instinct, and in which so many philosophers have recognised the inward assurance of a hereafter, viz., the desire to escape from the coldness and confinement, *' the valley and the cloud" of actual life, into the happier world which smiles, in truth, ever- more upon those who believe that it exists : the desire of the poet is identical with the desire of the religious man. He who longs for another world — only to be attained by abstraction from the low desires of this — longs for what the Christian strives for. And if he finds, with Schiller's Pilgrim, that in spite of all his longing and all his labour, the goal cannot be reached below, still, as Schiller expresses it elsewhere, " He has had Hope — his belief has boon his reward." That Heaven which "The Longing" yearns for, which " The Pilgrim" seeks, may be called " The Ideal," or whatever else refiners please ; but, in plain fact and in plain words, that Ideal is the Here- »<'ter— is Heaven ! THE DANCE. See how like lightest waves at play, the airy dancers fleet ; And scarcely feels the floor the wings of those harmonious feet. Oh, are they flying shadows from their native forms set free ? Or phantoms in the fairy ring that summer moonbeams see? D 2 36 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. As, by tlie gentle zephyr blown, some light mist flees in air, As skifFs that skim adowri the tide, when silver waves arc fair. So sports the docile footstep to the heave of that sweet measarc, As music Avafts the form aloft at its melodions pleasure, Now breaking through the woven chain of the entangled dance, Fjom where the ranks the thickest press, a bolder pair advance. The path they leave behind them lost — wide opes the path beyond. The way unfolds or closes up as by a magic wand. See now, they vanish from the gaze in wild confusion blended ; Ah, in sweet chaos whirl'd again, that gentle world is ended ! No ! — disentangled glides the knot, the gay disorder ranges — The only system ruling here, a grace that ever changes. For aye destroy'd — for aye renew'd, whirls on that fair creation ; And yet one peaceful law can still pervade in each mu- tation. And what can to the reeling maze breathe harmony and vigour, And give an order and repose to every gliding figure ? That each a ruler to himself doth but himself obey, Yet through the hurrying course still keeps his own ap- pointed way. What, would'st thou know ? It is in truth the mighty power of Tune, A power that every step obeys, as tides obey the moon ; That thrcadeth with a golden clue the intricate employ- ment. Curbs bounding strength to tranquil grace, and tames the wild enjoyment. And comes the world's wide harmony in vain upon thine ears ? j The stream of music borne aloft from yonder choral spheres ? THR SHARING OF THE EARTH. 87 A 'id fccl'sfc thou not tlio measure wliicli Eternal Nature keeps ? The whirling Dance for ever held in yonder azare deeps ? The suns that wheel in varying maze ? — That music thou discernest ? No ! Thou canst honour that in sport which thou for- gett'st in earnest. Note. — This poem is veiy characteristic of the noble ease with wliich Schiller often loves to surprise the reader, by the sudden introduction of matter for the loftiest reflection, in tlie midst of the most ftmiTlIiir subjects. AVhat can be more accurate and happy tlian the poet's description of the national dance, as if such description were his only object — the outpoming, as it wei'e, of a young gallant, intoxicated by the music, and dizzy with the waltz ? Suddenly and imperceptibly the reader finds himself elevated from a trivial scene, lie is borne upward to the harmony of the spheres. lie bows before the great law of the universe — the young gallant is transformed into the mighty teacher; and this without one hard conceit — without one touch of pedantry. It is but a flash of light ; and where glowed the playful picture, shines the solemn moral. THE SHARINa OF THE EARTH. " Take the world," cried the God from his heaven To men — " I proclaim you its heirs ; To divide it amongst you 'tis given, You have only to settle the shares." Each takes for himself as it pleases, Old and young have alike their desire ; The Harvest the Husbandman seizes, Thror gh the wood and the chase sweeps the Squire. The Merchant his warehouse is locking — The Abbot is choosing his wine — Cries the Monarch, the thoroughfares blocking. " Every toll for the passage is mine ! " All too late, when the sharing was over. Comes the Poet — He came from afar — Nothing left can the laggard discover. Not an inch but its ONvners there are. " Woe is me, is there nothing remaining, For the son who best loves thee alone ! " Thus to Jove went his voice in complaining, As he fell at the Thunderer's throne. 38 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEU. " In the land of the dreams if abiding," Quoth the God — " Canst thon mnrmur at ]\ie ? Where wert thou, when the Earth was dividing ? ' " I WAS," said the Poet, '• by thee ! " "Mine eye by thy glory was captur'd — Mine ear by thy music of bliss, Pardon him whom thy world so enraptur'd — As to lose him his portion in this ! " " Alas," said the God — " Earth is given ! Field, forest, and market, and all ! — What say you to quarters in Heaven ? We'll admit you whenever you call ! " THE india:n' DEATH-DIRGE. [The idea of this Poem is taken from Carver's Travels through North America, Goethe reckoned it amongst Schiller's best poems of the kind, and wished he had made a dozen such. But, precisely because Goethe admired it for its objectivity, William von Humboldt, found it wanting in ideality. See Hofimeister, pp. 3, 311.] See on his mat — as if of yore, All life-like, sits he here ! With that same aspect which he wore When light to him was dear. But where the right hand's strength ? — and where The breath that loved to breathe. To the Great Spirit aloft in air. The peace-pipe's lusty wreath ? And where the hawk-like eye, alas ! That wont the deer pursue. Along the waves of rippling grass. Or fields that shone with dew ? Are these the limber, bounding feet. That swept the winter snows ? What stateliest stag so fast and fleet ? Their speed outstript the roe's ! These arms that then the sturdy bow Could supple from its pride, How stark and helpless hang they now Adown the stifTen'd side ! THE LAY OF THE MOUNTAIN. 39 Yet weal to liim — at peace lie strays Where never fall tbe snows ; Where o'er the meadows springs the maize That mortal never sows : Where birds are blithe on every brake — Where forests teem with deer — Where glide the fish through every lake — One chase from year to year ! With spirits now he feasts above ; All left us — to revere The deeds we honour with our love, The dust we bury here. Here bring the last gifts ! — loud and shrill Wail, death-dirge for the brave ! What pleased him most in life may still Give pleasure in the grave. We lay the axe beneath his head He swung, when strength was strong — The bear on which his banquets fed — The way from earth is long ! And here, new-sharpen'd, place the knife That sever'd from the clay, From which the axe had spoil'd the life, The conquer'd scalp aw^ay ! The paints that deck the Dead, bestow — Yes, place them in his hand — That red the Kingly Shade may glow Amidst the Spirit-Land ! THE LAY OF THE MOUNTAIK [The scenory of Gotthardt is here personified.] The three following ballads, in which Switzerland is the scene, hctraj their origin in Schiller's studies for the drama of William Tell. To the solemn abyss leads the terrible path, The life and the death winding dizzy between ; [n thy desolate w^ay, grim with menace and wrath. To daunt thee the spectres of giants are seen ; That thou wake not the Wild One,* all silently tread — Let thy lip breathe no breath in the pathway of Dread ! * The avalanclie- -the i'qiiivoqi(C of the original, turning on the Swiss 40 POEMS AND BA.LLADS OF SCHILLER. High over the marge of the horrible deep Hangs and hovers a Bridge'with its phantom-like span,* Not by man w^as it built, o'er the vastness to sweep ; Such thought never came to the daring of Man ! The stream roars beneath — late and early it raves — But the bridge which it threatens, is safe from the waves. Black-yawning a Portal, tliy soul to affright. Like the gate to the kingdom, the Fiend for the king — Yet beyond it there smiles but a land of delight. Where the Autumn in marriage is met with the Spring. From a lot which the care and the trouble assail, Could I fly to the bliss of that balm-breathing vale ! Through that field, from a fount ever hidden their birth, Four Rivers in tumult rush roaringly forth ; They fly to the fourfold divisions of earth — The sunrise, the sunset, the south, and the north. And, true to the mystical mother that bore, Forth they rush to their goal, and are lost evermore. High over the races of men in the blue Of the ether, the Mount in twin summits is riven ; There, veil'd in the gold- woven webs of the dew. Moves the Dance of the Clouds — the pale Daughters of Heaven ! There, in solitude circles their mystical maze. Where no witness can hearken, no earthborn surveys. August on a throne which no ages can move. Sits a Queen, in her beauty serene and sublime,t The diadem blazing with diamonds above The glory of brows, never darken'd by time, word Zawine, it is impossible to render intelligible to the English reader. The giants in the preceding line are the rocks that overhang the pass which winds now to the right, now to the left, of a r^oaring stream. * The Devil's Bridge. The Land of Delight (called in Tell *' a serene valleyof joy ") to which the dreary portal (in Tell the black rock gate) leads, is the Urse Yale. The four rivers, in the next stanza, are the Eens, the Ehine, the Tessin, and the llhone. t The everlasting glacier. See William Tell, act v. scene 2. THE ALP HUNTER. 41 His arrows of liglit on tliat form shoots tlie sun — And ho gilds them with all, but ho warms them with none ! THE ALP HUNTER. ' [Founded on a legend of the Valley of Ormond, in the Paj's de Vaud.] '• Wilt thou not, thy lamblings heeding, (Soft and innocent are they !) Watch them on the herbage feeding, Or beside the brooklet play ? " " Mother, mother, let me go. O'er the mount to chase the roe." " Wilt thou not, around thee bringing, Lure the herds with lively horn ? — Gaily go the clear bells ringing. Through the echoing forest borne ! " " Mother, mother, let me go. O'er the wilds to cbase the roe." " Wilt thou not (their blushes woo thee !) In their sweet beds tend thy flowers ; Smiles so fair a garden to thee, * Where the savage mountain lours ? " " Leave the flowers in peace to blow j Mother, mother, let me go ! " On and ever onwards bounding. Scours the hunter to the chase. On and ever onwards hounding To the mountain's wildest space. — Swift, as footed by the wdnd. Flies before the trembling hind. Light and limber, upwards driven. On the hoar crag quivering. Or through gorges thunder-riven Leaps she with her airy spring ! But behind her still the Foe — Near, and near the deadly bow ! 4:2 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Fast and faster on — unslack'ning ; Now she hangs above the brink, Where the List rocks, grim and black'ning, Down the gulf abruptly sink. Never pathway there may wind, Cliasras below — and death behind ! To the hard man — dumb-lamenting, Turns she with her look of woe ; Turns in vain — the Unrelenting Meets the look — and bends the bovr.— - Sudden — from the darksome deep, Rose the Spirit of the Steep ! — And his godlike hand extending, From the hunter snatch'd the prey, "Wherefore, woe and slaughter sending, To my solitary sway ? — • Why should my herds before thee fall ? — There's room upon the Earth for all ! " RUDOLF OF HAPSBURa. A BALLAD. [Hini-ichs properly classes this striking ballad (together with the j-et grander one of the " Fight with the Dragon") amongst those designed to depict and exalt the virtue of Humilit}\ The source of the story is in JEgidius Tschudi, a Swiss chronicler ; and Schiller appears to have adhered, with much fidelity, to the original naiTative.] At Aachen, in imperial state, In that time-hallow'd hall renown'd, At solemn feast King Rudolf sate, The day that saw the hero crown'd ! Bohemia and thy Palgrave, Rhine, Grive this the feast, aijd that the wine ; * * The office, at the coronation feast, of the Count Palatine of the Ehine (Grand Sewer of the Empire and one of the Seven Electors) was to bear the Imperial Globe and set the dishes on the board ; that of the King of Bohemia was cup-bearer. The latter was not, however, present, as Sehilb r liimsclf observed in a note (omitted iu the editions of his collected woiks), at the coronation of Rudolf. RUDOLPH OF HAPSBURG. 43 The Arcli Electoral Seven, Like clioral stars aronnd the sun, Gird liim whose hand a world has won. The anointed choice of Pleavcn. In galleries raised above the pomp, Press'd crowd on crowd tlieir panting way; And with the joy-rosonnding tromp, Rang ont the million's loud hurra ! Tor closed at last the age of slaughter, When human blood was ponr'd as water- -- Law dawns upon the world ! * Sharp force no more shall right the wrong, And grind the weak to crown the strong — War's carnage-flag is furl'd ! In Rudolf's hand the goblet shines — And gaily round the board look'd he ; " And proud the feast, and bright the wines My kingly heart feels glad to me ! Yet where the Gladness-Bringer — blest In the sweet art which moves the breast With lyre and verse divine ? Dear from my youth the craft of song, And what as knight I loved so long, As Kaisar, still be mine." Lo, from the circle bending there. With sweeping robe the Bard appears, As silver white his gleaming hair, Bleach'd by the many winds of years ; '•And music sleeps in golden strings — Love's rich reward the minstrel sings, Well known to him the All High thoughts and ardent souls desire ! What would the Kaisar from the lyre Amidst the banquet-hall ? " * LiiemWy,-^^ A j'udffe (cin JRtch ter) v:as again upon tlie earth." The word substituted in the translation is introduced in order to recall to the reader the sublime name given, not without justice, to lUidolf of Hnpsburg, viz., "The Living Law." 4i roExMS a>;d ballads of schtller. The Great One smiled — " Not mine the sway — The minstrel owns a loftier power — A mightier king inspires the lav — Its hest — The Impulse of tue Hour ! " As througli wide air the tempests sweep, As gash the springs from mystic deep, Or lone untrodden glen ; So from dark hidden fount within, Comes Song, its own wild world to win Amidst the souls of men ! " Swift with the fire the minstrel glow'd, And loud the music swept the ear : — " Forth to the chase a Hero rode, To hunt the bounding chamois-deer ; With shaft and horn the squire behind ; — • Through greensward meads the riders wind— A small sweet bell they hear. Lo, with the Host, a holy man, — Before him strides the sacristan, And the bell sounds near and near. " The noble hunter down- inclined His reverent head and soften' d eye, And honour'd with a Christian's mind The Christ who loves humility ! Loud through the pasture, brawls and raves A brook — the rains had fed the waves. And torrents from the hill. His sandal shoon the priest unbound, And laid the Host upon the ground, And near'd the swollen rill ! '* ' What wouldst thou, priest? ' the Count bo^-an, As, marvelling much, he halted there; ' Sir Count, I seek a dying man. Sore-hungering for the heavenly fare. The bridge that once its safety gave, Rent by the anger of the wave. Drifts down the tide below. Yet barefoot now, I will not fear (The soul that seeks its Grod, to cheer) Through the wild wave to go ! ' RUDOLPH OF HAPSBUKG. 45 " He gave that priest the knightly steed, He reach'd that priest the lordly reins, That he might serve the sick man's need, Nor slight the task that heaven ordains. He took the horse the squire bestrode ; On to the chase the hunter rode, On to the sick the priest ! And when the morrow's sun was red, The servant of the Saviour led Back to its lord the beast. " ' Now Heaven forfend ! ' the Hero cried, ' That e'er to chase or battle more These limbs the sacred steed bestride That once my Maker's image bore ; If not a boon allow'd to thee, Thy Lord and mine its Master be. My tribute to the King, From whom I hold, as fiefs, since birth, Honour, renown, the goods of earth, Life and each living thing ! ' " ' So may the God, who faileth never To hear the weak and guide the dim, To thee give honour here and ever. As thou hast duly honour'd Him ! Far-famed ev'n now through Swisserland, Thy generous heart and dauntless hand ; And fair from thine embrace. Six daughters bloom,* six crowns to bring, Blest as the daughters of a king. The mothers of a eace ! " The mighty K!aisar heard amazed ! His heart was in the days of old ; Into the minstrel's heart he gazed. That tale the Kaisar's own had told. * At the ooronation of Rudolf was celebrated the marriage-feast of tliree of his daughters— to Ludwig of Bavaria, Otto of Braudeiiburg, and Albrecht of Saxony. His other three daughters married afterwards Otto, nephew of Ludwig of Bavaria, Charles Martell, son of Charles of Anjou, and Wen- ceslaus, son of»Ottocar of Bohemia. The royal house of England uiimbers lludolf of llapsburg amongbt its ancestors. 46 rOEMS AND BALLADS 0^ SCHILLEJ^. Yes, in tlie bard the priest he knew, And in the purple veil'd from view The gush of holj tears ! A thrill through that vast audience ran, And every heart the godlike man Revering Grod — reveres ! THE FiaHT WITH THE DRAGON. Who comes ? — why rushes fast and loud, Through lane and street the hurtling crowd, Is Rhodes on fire ? — Hurrah ! — along Faster and fast storms the throng ! High towers a shape in knightly garb — Behold the Rider and the Barb ! Behind is dragg'd a wondrous load ; Beneath what monster groans the road ? The horrid jaws — the Crocodile, The shape the mightier Dragon, shows — From Man to Monster all the while — The alternate wonder glancing goes. Shout thousands, with a single voice, " Behold the Dragon, and rejoice, Safe roves the herd, and safe the swain ! Lo ! — there the Slayer— here the Slain ! Full many a breast, a gallant life, Has waged against the ghastly strife, And ne'er return'd to mortal sight — Hurrah, then, for the Hero Knight ! " So to the Cloister, where the vow'd And peerless brethren of St. John J:i conclave sit — that sea-like crowd, Wave upon wave, goes thundering on. High o*er the rest, the chief is seen — There wends the Knight with modest mien ; Pours through the galleries raised for all Above that Hero-council Hall, The crowd — And thus the Victor One : — " Prince — the knight's duty I have done. THE FIGHT WITH THE DKAGON. 47 The Dragon that devour'd the land Lies slain beneath thy servant's hand ; Free, o'er the pasture, rove the flocks — And free the idler's steps may stray — And freely o'er the lonely rocks, The holier pilgrim wends his way ! " A lofty look the Master gave : " Certes," he said, " thy deed is brave ; Dread Avas the danger, dread the fight — Bold deeds bring fame to vulgar knight ; But say, what sways with holier laws The knight who sees in Christ his cause. And wears his cross ? " — Then every cheek Grew pale to hear the Master speak ; But nobler was the blush that spread His face — the Victor's of the day — As bending lowly — " Prince," he said; " His noblest duty — to obey ! " "And yet that duty, son," replied The chief " methinks thou hast denied And dared thy sacred sw^ord to wield For fame in a forbidden field." " Master, thy judgment, howso'er It lean, till all is told, forbear — Thy law^, in spirit and in will, I had no thought but to fulfil, Not rash, as some, did I depart A Christian's blood in vain to shed ; But hoped by skill, and strove by art, To make my life avenge the dead. " Five of our Order, in renown The war-gems of our saintly crown, The martyr's glory bought with life ; 'Twas then thy law forbade the strife. Yet in my heai-t there gnaw'd, like fire, Proud sorrow, fed with stern desire : In the still visions of the night, Panting I fought the fancied fight ; 48 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. And when tlie morrow glimmering came, With tales of ravage freshly done, The dream remember'd, turn'd to shame. That night should dare what day should shun. " And thus my fiery musings ran — ' What youth has learn'd should nerve the man ; How lived the great in days of old, Whose fame to time by bards is told — Who, heathens though they were, became As gods — upborne to heaven by fame ? How proved they best the hero's worth ? They chased the monster from the earth — They sought the lion in his den — They pierced the Cretan's deadly maze — Their noble blood gave humble men Their happy birthright — peaceful days. " ' What ! sacred, but against the horde Of Mahound, is the Christian's sword ? All strife, save one, should he forbear ? No ! earth itself the Christian's care. — From every ill and e^ery harm, Man's shield should be the Christian's arm. Yet art o'er strength will oft prevail, And mind must aid where heart may fail ! ' Thus musing, oft I roam'd alone, Where wont the Hell-born Beast to lie ; Till sudden light upon me shone, And on my hope broke victory I " Then, Prince, I sought thee with the prayer To breathe once more mj native air j The license given — the ocean past — I reach'd the shores of home at last. Scarce hail'd the old beloved land, Than huge, beneath the artist's hand. To every hideous feature true, The Dragon's monster-model grew, ■ The dwarf'd, deformed limbs upbore The lengthen'd body's ponderous load : The scales the impervious surface wore. Like links of burnish'd harness, glow'd. THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON. 49 " Life-like, the huge neck scem'd to swell, And widely, as some porch to hell, Yon might the horrent jaws survey, Griesly, and greeding for their prey. Grim fangs and added terror gave. Like crags that whiten through a cave. The very tongue a sword in seeming — The deep-sunk eyes in sparkles gleaming. Where the vast l3ody ends, succeed The serpent spires around it roll'd — Woe — woe to rider, woe to steed. Whom coils as fearful o'er enfold ! " All to the awful life was done — The very hue, so ghastly, won — The grey, dull tint : — the labour ceased. It stood — half reptile and half beast ! And now began the mimic chase ; Two dogs I sought, of noblest race, Tierce, nimble, fleet, and wont to scorn The wild bull's wrath and levell'd horn ; These, docile to my cheering cry, I train'd to bound, and rend, and spring, Now round the Monster-shape to fly, Now to the Monster-shape to cling ! " And where their gripe the best assails, The belly left unsheath'din scales, I taught the dexterous hounds to hang And find the spot to fix the fang ; Whilst I, with lance and mailed garb, Launch'd on the beast mine Arab barb. From purest race that Arab came, And steeds, like men, are fired by fame. Beneath the spur he chafes to rage ; Onwards we ride in full career — I seem, in truth, the war to wage — The monster reels beneath my spear ! " Albeit, when first the destrier * eyed The laidly thing, it swerved aside, * War-horse. 50 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER, Snorted and rear'd — and even they, The fierce hounds, shrank with startled bay ; I ceased not, till by cnstom bold, After three tedious moons were told. Both barb and hounds were train'd — nay, more, Pierce for the fight — then left the shore ! Three days have fleeted since I prest (Return'd at length) this welcome soil, Nor once would lay my limbs to rest, Till wrought the glorious crowning toil. " For much it moved my soul to know The unslack'ning curse of that grim foe. Fresh rent, men's bones lay bleach'd and bare Around the hell-worm's swampy lair; And pity nerved me into steel : — Advice r — I had a heart to feel. And strength to dare ! So, to the deed. — • I call'd my squires — bestrode my steed, And with my stalwart hounds, and by Lone secret paths, we gaily go Unseen — at least by human eye — Against a worse than human foe ! " Thou know'st the sharp rock — steep and hoar ?- The abyss ? — the chapel glimmering o'er ? Built by the Fearless Master's hand, The fane looks down on all the land. Humble and mean that house of prayer — Yet Grod hath shrined a wonder there : — Mother and Child, to whom of old The Three Kings knelt with gifts, behold ! By three times thirty steps, the shrine The pilgrim gains — and faint, and dim, And dizzy with the height, divine Strength on the sudden springs to him ! "Yawns wide within that holy steep A mghty cavern dark and deep — By blessed sunbeam never lit — Bank foetid swamps engirdle it ; TITE FfGHT WITH THE DFiAGON. 51 And there by niglit, and there by day, Ever at watch, the fiend-worm lay, Holding the Hell of its abode Fast by the hallow'd House of God. And when the pilgrim gladly ween'd His feet had found the healing way, Forth from its ambush rush'd the fiend, And down to darkness dragged the picy. '^With solemn soul, that solemn height I clomb, ere yet I sought the fight — Kneeling before the cross within. My heart, confessing, clcar'd its sin. Then, as befits the Christian knight, I donn'd the spotless surplice white. And, by the altar, grasp'd the spear : — So down I strode with conscience clear — Bade my leal squires afar the deed. By death or conquest crown'd, await — Leapt lightly on my lithesome steed. And gave to God his soldier's fate ! " Before me wide the marshes lay — Started the hounds with sudden bay — Aghast the swerving charger slanting Snorted — then stood abrupt and panting — For curling there, in coiled fold, The Unutterable Beast behold ! Lazily basking in the sun. Forth sprang the dogs. The fight's begun ! But lo ! the hounds, in cowering, fly Before the mighty poison-breath — A fierce yell, like the jackal's cry, Howl'd, mingling with that wind of death, " No halt — I gave one cheering sound, Lustily springs each dauntless hound — Swift as the dauntless hounds advance, Whirringly skirrs my stalwart lance — Whirr ingly skirrs ; and from the scale Bounds, as a reed aslant the mail. Onward — but no ! — the craven steed E 2 rOEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Shrinks from his lord in tliat dread need — Smitten and scar'd before that ejo Of basilisk horror, and that blast Of death, it only seeks to fly — And half the mighty hope is jmst ! " A moment, and to earth I leapt ; Swift from its sheath the falchion swept ; Swift on that rock-like mail it plied — • The rock-like mail the sword defied : The monster lash'd its mighty coil — Down hnrl'd — behold me on the soil ! Behold the hell-jaws gaping wide — When lo ! they bound — the flesh is fomid ; Upon the scaleless parts they spring ! Springs either hound ; — the flesh is found — It roars ; the blood-dogs cleave and cling ! " No time to foil its fastening foes — Light, as it writhed, I sprang, and rose ; The all-unguarded place explored, Up to the hilt I plunged the sword — Buried one instant in the blood — The next, upsprang the bubbling flood ! The next, one Vastness spread the plain — Crush'd down — the victor with the slain ; And all was dark — and on the ground My life, suspended, lost the sun, Till waking — lo my squires around — And the dead foe ! — my tale is done." Then burst, as from a common breast, The eager laud so long supprest — A thousand voices, choral-blending, Up to the vaulted dome ascending — From groined roof and banner'd wall' Invisible echoes answering all — The very Brethren, grave and high, Eorget their state, and join the cry. " With laurel wreaths his brows be crown'd, Let throng to throng his triumph tell ; Hail him all Rhodes !" — the Master fro wn'd, And raised his hand — and silence fell. THE FIGHT WITH THE DKAGON. 53 " Well," said that solemn voice, *' thy hand From the wild-beast hath freed the land. An idol to the People be ! A foe onr Order frowns on thee ! For in thy heart, superb and vain, A hell- worm laidlier than the slain, To discord which engenders death. Poisons each thonght with baleful breath ! That hell- worm is the stubborn Will — Oh ! What were man and nations worth If each his own desire fulfil, And law be banish'd from the earth ? *' Valour the Heathen gives to story — Ohedience is the Christian's glory j And on that soil our Saviour- God As the meek low-born mortal trod. We the Apostle-knights were sworn To laws thy daring langhs to scorn — 'Not fame, but duty to fulfil — Our noblest offering — man's wild will. Vain-glory doth thy soul betray — Begone — thy conquest is thy loss : No breast too haughty to obey. Is worthy of the Christian's cross ! " From their cold awe the crowds awaken, As with some storm the halls arc shaken ; The noble Brethren plead for grace — Mute stands the doom'd, with downward face ; And mutely loosen'd from its band The badge, and kiss'd the Master's hand. And meekly turn'd him to depart : A moist eye follow'd, " To my heart Come back, my son ! " — the Master cries : " Thy grace a harder fight obtains ; AVhen Valour risks the Christian's prize, Lo, how Humility regains ! " In the poem just presented to the reader, Schiller designed, as ho wrote to Goethe, to depict the old Cliristian chivalry — half kniglitly, half monastic. The attempt is strikingly successful. Indeed, " The Fight of the Dragon " appears to us the most spiiited and nervous of all Schiller's narrative poems, 54 POEMS AND BALLAt)S OF SCHILLEH. A\itli the single exception of " The Diver ; " and if its interest is h^ss intense than that of the matchless "Diver," and its descriptions less poetically striking and effective, its interior meaning or philosophical con- ception is at once more profound and more elevated. In " The Fight of the Dragon," is expressed the moral of that humility "which consists in self- conquest — even mex-it may lead to vain-glory— and, after vanquishing the fiercest enemies without, Man has still to contend with his worst foe, — the pride or disobedience of his own heart. "Every one," as a recent and acute, but somewhat over-refining critic has remarked, " has more or less — his own 'fight with the Dragon' — his own double victory (without and within) to achieve." The origin of this poem is to b» found in the Annals of the Order of Malta — and the details may be seen in Vertot's History. The date assigned to the conquest of the Dragon is 1342. Helion de Villencuve was the name of the Grand Master — that of the Knight, Dieu- Donne de Gozon. Thevcnot declares that the head of the monster (to whatever species it really belonged), or its effigies, was still placed over one of the gates of the city in his time. — Dieu-Donne succeeded De Villeneuve as Grand ]\[astcr, and on his gravestone were inscribed the words "Draconis Exstinctor." DITHYRAMB.* Believe me, togetlaer The bright gods come ever, Still as of old ; Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy, Than comes up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy And Phoebus, the stately, behold ! They come near and nearer, The Heavenly Ones all — The Gods with their presence Fill earth as their hall 1 Say, how shall I welcome, Human and earthborn, Sons of the Sky ? Pour out to me — pour the full life that ye live ! What to you, ye gods ! can the mortal-one give ? The Joys can dwell only In Jupiter's palace — Brimm'd bright with your nectar, Oh, reach me the chalice ! * This has been paraphrased by Coleridge. THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR. 55 " Hebe, the clialice Fill full to the brim ! Steep his ejes — steep his eyes in the bath of the dew, Let him dream, while the Styx is concealed from his view, That the life of the Gods is for him \ " It murmnrs, it sparkles, The Fount of Delight ; The bosom groAvs tranquil — The eye becomes bright. THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN. Oh, nobly shone the fearful Cross upon your mail afar. When Rhodes and Acre hail'd your might, O lions of the war! When leading many a pilgrim horde, through wastes of Syrian gloom ; Or standing with the Cherub's sword before the Holy Tomb. Yet on your forms the Apron seem'd a nobler armour far, When by the sick man's bed ye stood, lions of the war ! When ye, the high-born, bow'd your pride to tend the lowly weakness. The duty, though it brought no fame,* fulfilled by Christian meekness — Religion of the Cross, thou blend' st, as in a single flower. The twofold branches of the palm — humility and tower. THE MAIDEN" FROM AFAR. (or from abroad.) AYrruiN a vale, each infant year. When earliest larks first carol free, To humble shepherds doth appear A wondrous maiden, fair to sec. * The epithet in the first edition is rnhmlose. 56 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Not born wifhin that lowly place — From wlience she wander'd, none could tell ' Her parting footsteps left no trace, When once the maiden sigh'd farewell. And blessed was her presence there — Each heart, expanding, grew more gay ; Yet something loftier still than fair Kept man's familiar looks away. From fairy gardens, known to none. She brought mysterions fruits and flowers — The things of some serener sun — Some Nature more benign than ours. With each, her gifts the maiden shared — To some the fruits, the flowers to some ; Alike the young, the aged fared ; Each bore a blessing back to home. Though every guest was welcome there, Yet some the maiden held more dear, And cuU'd her rarest sweets whene'er She saw two hearts that loved draw near. Note. — It seems generally agreed tliat Poetry is allegorised in tliosc stanzas; though, with this interpretation, it is difficult to reconcile the sense of some of the lines — for instance, the last in the first stanza. How can Poetry be said to leave no trace when she takes farewell ? THE TWO aUlDES OF LIFE— THE SUBLIME AND THE BEAUTIFUL. Two genii are there, from thy birth through weary life, to guide thee ; Ah, happy when, united both, they stand to aid, beside thee ! With gleesome play, to cheer the path, the One comes blithe with beauty — And lighter, leaning on her arm, the destiny and duty. THE FOUR AGES OF THE WOrvLI). 57 WItli jest and sweet discourse, she goes unto the rock sublime, Where halts above the Eternal Sea,* the shuddering Child of Time. The Other here, resolved and mute, and solemn claspeth thee, And bears thee in her giant arms across the fearful sea. Never admit the one alone ! — G ive not the gentle guide Thy honour — nor unto the stern thy happiness confide ! THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD. [This Poem is one of those in wliich Schiller has traced the progress of Civilization, and to -which the Gennans have given the name of Culture- Historic] Bright-purpling the glass glows the blush of the wine — Bright sparkle the eyes of each guest ; The Poet has enter'd the circle to join — To the good brings the Poet the best. Ev'n Olympus were mean, with its nectar and all. If the lute's happy magic were mute in the hall. Bestow'd by the gods on the ppet has been A soul that can mirror the world ! Whate'er has been done on this earth he has seen. And the future to him is unfurl'd. He sits with the gods in their council sublime, x\nd views the dark seeds in the bosom of Time. The folds of this life, in the pomp of its hues, He broadens all lustily forth, And to him is the magic he takes from the Muse, To deck, like a temple, the earth. A hut, though the humblest that man ever trod, He can charm to a heaven, and illume with a god ! * By this, Schiller informs us elsewhere that he docs not mean Death alone ; but that the thought applies equallj^ to every period in life, when we can divest our souls of the body, and perceive or act as pure spirits : we are truly then under the influence of the Sublime. 58 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. As the god and the genius, whose birth was of Jove,* In one type all creation reveal'd. When the ocean, the earth, and the star-realm above, Lay compress'd in the orb of a shield ; So the poet, a shape and a type of the All, From a sound, that is mute in a moment, can call.f Blithe pilgrim ! his footsteps have pass'd in their way, Every time, every far generation ; He comes from the age when the Earth was at play In the childhood and bloom of Creation. Four Ages of men have decay'd to his eye, And fresh to the Fifth he glides youthfully by. King Saturn first ruled us, the simple and true — Each day as each yesterday fair : No grief and no guile the calm shepherd-race knew — Their life was the absence of care ; They loved, and to love was the whole of their task — Kind earth upon all lavish'd all they could ask. Then the Labour arose, and the demi-god man "Went the monster and dragon to seek ; And the age of the hero, the ruler, began. And the strong were the stay of the weak. By Scamander the strife and the glory had birth ; But the Beautiful still was the god of the earth. From the strife came the conquest ; and Strength, like a wind. Swept its way through the meek and the mild : Still vocal the Muse, and in marble enshrined, The gods upon Helicon smiled. Alas, for the age which fair Phantasie bore ! — It is fled from the earth, to return nevermore. * Vulcan — the nllusion, -wliich is exquisitely beautiful, is to the Shield of Achilles.— Homer, II. i. 18. "There Earth, there Heaven, there Ocean, he design'd." — Pope. t This line is obscure, not only in the translation, but so in the original. Schiller means to say that the Poet is the true generaliser of the infinite — a position Avhich he himself practically illustrates, by condensing, in the few verses that follow, the Avholc history of the world. Thus, too. Homer is the condenser of the whole heroic age of Greece. In the Prologue to " AYallenstein," the same expressions, with little alteration, are emploved to convey the perishable natui-e of the Actor's art. THE Four. AGES OF THE WORLD. 59 The gods from their thrones in Olympus were hurl'd, Fane and colamn lay rent and forlorn ; And — lioly, to heal all the wounds of the world — The Son of the Virgin was born. The lusts of the senses subdued or suppress'd, Man mused on life's ends, and took THOUGirT to his breast.* Ever gone were those charms, the voluptuous and vain, Which had deck'd the young world with delight ; For the monk and the nun were the penance and pain, And the tilt for the iron-clad knight. Yet, however that life might be darksome and wild, Love linger'd with looks still as lovely and mild : By the shrine of an altar yet chaste and divine, Stood the Muses in stillness and shade ; And honour'd, and household, and holy that shrine — In the blush — in the heart of the maid : And the sweet light of song burn'd the fresher and truer, In the lay and the love of the wild Troubadour. As ever, so aye, in their beautiful band, May the Maid and the Poet unite : Their task be to work, and to weave, hand in hand, The zone of the Fair and the Right ! Love and Song, Song and Love, intertwined evermore, Weary Earth to the suns of its youth can restore. * " Dcr Mensch griff denkend in seine Brust," i. c. Man sfrove by reflection to apprehend the phenomena of his own being — the principles of his own nature. The development of the philosophical, n8 distinguished from the natural consciousness, fonns a ^■ery important fcra in the history of civilization. It is in fact the great tuniing-poiut of humanity, both individually and historically. GrifF, BegrifF— has a peculiar logical significance in German. 60 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. [The two first Stanzas of this roem are sung by Thekla, in the third Act of the " Piccolomiui."] The wind rocks the forest, The clouds gather o'er; The girl sitteth lonely Beside the green shore ; The breakers are dashing with might, with might : And she mingles her sighs with the gloomy night, And her eyes are hot with tears. " The earth is a desert, And broken my heart, Nor aught to my wishes The world can impart. To her Father in Heaven may the Daughter now go ; I have known all the joys that the world can bestow — I have lived — I have loved" — " In vain, oh ! how vainly, Flows tear upon tear ! Human woe never waketh Dull Death's heavy car ! — Yet say what can soothe for the sweet vanish'd love, And I, the Celestial, wdll shed from above The balm for thy breast." " Let ever, though vainly. Flow tear upon tear ; Human woe never waketh Dull Death's heavy ear ; Yet still when the heart mourns the sweet vanish'd love, No balm for its wound can descend from above Like Love's own faithful tears ! " THE IMMUTABLE. Time flics on restless pinions — constant never. Be constant — and thou chaincst time for ever. Tim VEILED IMAGE AT SAIS., GL THE VEILED IMAGE AT SAIS. A YOUTH, whom wisdom's warm desire had lufcd To learn the secret lore of Egypt's priests, To Sais came. And soon, from step to step Of upward mystery, swept his rapid soul ! Still ever sped the glorious Hope along. Nor could the parch'd Impatience halt, appeased By the calm answer of the Hierophant — " What have I, if I have not all," he sigh'd ; " And givest thou but the little and the more ? Does thy truth dwindle to the gauge of gold, A sum that man may smaller or less small Possess and count — subtract or add to — still ? Is not TKUTH one and indivisible ? Take from the Harmony a single tone — A single tint take from the Iris bow, And lo ! what once was all, is nothing — while Fails to the lovely whole one tint or tone ! " They stood within the temple's silent dome, And, as the young man paused abrupt, his gaze Upon a veil'd and giant Image fell : Amazed he turn'd unto his guide — " And what Towers, yonder, vast beneath the veil ? " *' The Truth,'* Answered the Priest. " And have I for the truth Panted and struggled with a lonely soul, And yon the thin and ceremonial robe That wraps her from mine eyes ? " Replied the priest, " There shrouds herself the still Divinity. Hear, and revere her best : * Till I this veil Lift — may no mortal-born presume to raise ; And who with guilty and unhallow'd hand Too soon profanes the Holy and Forbidden — He,' says the goddess " — "Well?" " ' StfALL SEE THE TbUTH ! ' '* 6.? POEMS AND Bx\LLADS OF SCHILLER. " A wondrous oracle ; and hast thou never Lifted the veil ? " " No ! nor desired to raise ! " " What ! nor desired? strange incurious heart, Here the thin barrier — there reveal' d the truth ! " Mildly return'd the priestly master, " Son, More mighty than thou dream'st of, Holy Law Spreads interwoven in yon slender web, Air-light to touch — lead-heavy to the soul! " The young man, thoughtful, turn'd him to his home, And the sharp fever of the Wish to Know Robb'd night of sleep. Around his couch he roll'd, Till midnight hatch'd resolve — "Unto the shrine! " Stealthily on, the involuntary tread Bears him — he gains the boundary, scales the wall, And midway in the inmost, holiest dome, Strides with adventurous step the daring man. Now halts he where the lifeless Silence sleeps In the embrace of mournful Solitude ; — Silence unstirr'd, — save where the guilty tread Call'd the dull echo from mysterious vaults ! High from the opening^f the dome above. Came with wan smile the silver-shining moon. And, awful as some pale presiding god. Dim-gleaming through the hush of that large gloom, In its wan veil the Giant Image stood. With an unsteady step he onwards past, Already touch'd the violating hand The Holy — and recoil'd ! a shudder thrili'd His limbs, fire-hot and icy-cold in turns. As if invisible arms would pluck the soul Back from the deed. " miserable man 1 What would'st thou ? " (Thus within the inmost heart Murmur'd the warning whisper.) " Wilt thou dare The AU-hallow'd to profane ? * No mortal-born THE CHILD IN THE CRADLE. 63 (So spake the oracular word) may lift the veil Till I myself shall raise ! ' Yet said it not, The same oracular word — ' who lifts the veil Shall see the truth ? ' Behind, bo what there .may, I dare the hazard — I will lift the veil — " Loud rano: his shouting voice — " and I will see ! " " See ! " A lengthen' d echo, mocking, shrill'd again ! He spoke and rais'd the veil ! And ask'st thou what Unto the sacrilegious gaze lay bare ? I know not — pale and senseless, stretch'd before The statue of the great Egyptian queen. The priests beheld him at the dawn of day ; But what he saw, or what did there befall, His lips reveal'd not. Ever from his heart Was fled the sweet serenity of life, And the deep anguish dug the early grave :^ " Woe — woe to him " — such were his warning words. Answering some curious and impetuous brain, " Woe — for her face shall charm him never more ! ^ Woe — woe to him who treads through Guilt to Truth ! " THE CHILD IN THE CRADLE. Within that narrow bed, glad babe, to thee A boundless world is spread ! i Unto thy soul, the boundless world shall be When man, a narrow bed ! " * * This epigram has a considerable resemblance to the epitaph on Alexander the Great : SufFicit huic Tumulus, cui non sufFecerat orbis : lies brevis huic ampla est, cui fuit ampla brevis. A little tomb sufficeth him whom not sufficed all : The small is now as great to him as once the great was small. Vide Blackwood's Magazine, April, 1838, p. 556. G4 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. THE nma of polycrates. A BALLAD. Upon his battlements he stands — And proudly looks along the lands — His Samos and the Sea ! " And all," he said, " that we survey, Egyptian king, my jDOwer obey — Own, Eortane favonrs me ! " " With thee the Gods their favonr share, And they who once thine equals were, In thee a monarch know ! Yet one there lives to avenge the rest, Nor can my lips pronounce thee blest, While on thee frowns the Foe ! " He spoke, and from Miletus sent. There came a breathless man, and bent Before the tvrant there. " Let incense smoke upon the shrine, And with the lively laurel twine, Victor, thy godlike hair ! " The foe sunk, smitten by the spear ; With the glad tidings sends me here, Thy faithful Polydore." And from the griesly bowl he drew (Grrim sight they well might start to view !) A head that dripp'd with gore. The Egyptian king recoil'd in fear, " Hold not thy fortune yet too dear — Bethink thee yet," he cried, " Thy Fleets are on the faithless seas ; Thy Fortune trembles in the breeze. And floats upon the tide." THE KING OF POLYCEATES. 65 Ere yet the warning word was spoken — Below, the choral joy was broken — Shouts ring from street to street ! Home-veering to the crowded shore — Their freight of richest booty bore The Forests of the Fleet. Astounded stood that kingly guest, " Thy luck this day must be confest, Yet trust not the Unsteady ! The banners of the Cretan foe Wave war, and bode thine overthrow — They near thy sands already ! " Scarce spoke the Egyptian King — before Hark, " Victory — Victory ! " from the shore. And from the seas ascended ; " Escaped the doom that round us lower 'd, Swift storm the Cretan has devoured. And war itself is ended ! " Shudder'd the guest — "In sooth," he falter'd, " To-day thy fortune smiles nnalter'd, Yet more thy fate I dread — The Gods oft grudge what they have given, And ne'er unmix'd with grief has Heaven Its joys on Mortals shed ! " No less than thine my rule has thriven, And o'er each deed the gracious heaven Has, favouring, smiled as yet. Bat one beloved heir had I — God took him ! — I beheld him die. His life paid fortune's debt. " So, would'st tliQii 'scape the coming ill — Implore the dread Invisible — Thy sweets themselves to sour ! Well ends his life, believe me, never. On whom, with hands thus full for ever, The Gods their bounty shower. 06 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. " And if tliy prayer the Gods can gain not This counsel of thy friend disdain not — Thine own afflictor be ! And what of all thy worldly gear Thy deepest heart esteems most dear, Cast into yonder sea! " The Samian thrill' d to hear the king — "No gems so rich as deck this ring, The wealth of Samos gave : By this — O may the Fatal Three My glut of fortune pardon me ! " He cast it on the wave — And when the morrow's dawn began. All joyous came a fisherman Before the prince. — Quoth he, " Behold this fish — so fair a spoil Ne'er yet repaid the soarer's toil, I bring my best to thee ! " The cook to dress the fish begun — The cook ran fast as cook could run — " Look, look ! — master mine — The ring — the ring the sea did win, I found the fish's maw within — "Was ever luck like thine ! " In horror turns the kingly guest — " Then longer here I may not rest, I'll have no friend in thee ! The Gods have marked thee for their prey, To share thy doom I dare not stay ! " He spoke — and put to sea. Note.— This atory is taken from the well-known correspondence between Amasis and Polycrates, in the thii-d book of Herodotus. Poly crates— one of the ablest of that most able race, the Greek tyrants,— was afterwards decoyed into the power of Ora)tes, GoTcrnor of Sardis, and died on the cross. Herodotus informs us, that the ring Polycrates so prized, was an emerald set in gold, the Avorkmanship of Thcodorus the Samian. Pliny, on the contrary, affirm? it to have been a sardonyx, and in his time it was supposed still to exist among the treasures in the Temple of Concord. It is worth Avhile to turn to Herodotus (c. 40 — 43, book 3), to notice the admirable art with which Schiller has adapted the narrative, and heightened its effect. THE- SEXES. r»7 HOPE. Wj-: speak with the lip, and wc dream in the soul, Of some better and fairer day ; And our days, the meanwhile, to that golden goal Are gliding and sliding away. Now the world becomes old, now again it is young. But " The Better " 'sfor ever the word on the tongue At the threshold of life Hope leads us in — Hope plays round the mirthful boy ; Though the best of its charms may with youth begin, Yet for age it reserves its toy. When we sink at the grave, why the grave has scope, And over the coffin Man planteth — Hope ! And it is not a dream of a fancy proud. With a fool for its dull begetter ; There's a voice at the heart that proclaims aloud — We arc horiu for a something Better ! " And that Voice of the Heart, oh, ye may believe, Will^never the Hope of the Soul deceive ! THE SEXES. See in the babe two loveliest flowers united — yet in truth. While in the bud they seem the same — the virgin and the youth ! But loosen'd is the gentle bond, no longer side by side — From holy Shame the fiery Strength will soon itself divide. Permit the youth to sport, and still the wild desire to chase. For, but when sated, weary strength returns to seek the grace. Yet in the bud, . the double flowers the future strife begin. How precious all — yet nought can still the longing heart- within. F 2 68 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHlLLEll. In ripening charms the virgin bloom to woman sbape hath grown, Bub round the ripening charms the pride hath clasp'd its guardian zone ; Shy, as before the hunter's horn the doe all trembling moves. She flies from man as from a foe, and hates before she loves ! From lowering brows this struggling world the fearless youth observes, And, harden'd for the strife betimes, he strains the willing nerves ; Far to the armed throng and to the race prepared to start. Inviting glory calls him forth, and grasps the troubled heart: — ■ Protect thy work, Nature now ! one from the other flies, Till thou unitest each at last that for the other sighs. There art thou, mighty one ! where'er the discord darkest frown. Thou call'st the meek harmonious Peace, the godlike soother down. The noisy chase is luU'd asleep, day's clamour dies afar, And through the sweet and veiled air in beauty comes the star. Soft-sighing through the crispdd reeds, the brooklet glides along, And every wood the ijightingale melodious fills with song. virgin ! now what instinct heaves thy bosom with the sigh ? O youth ! and wherefore steals the tear into thy dreaming eye? Alas ! they seek in vain within the charm around be- stow'd, The tender fruit is ripen'd now, and bows to earth its load. And restless goes the youth to feed his heart upon its fire, Ah, where the gentle breath to cool the flame of young desire ! POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM. 69 And now tliey meet — the holy love that leads them lights their eyes, And still behind the winged god the winged victory flies. O heavenly Love! — 'tis thy sweet task the human flowers to bind, For aye apart, and yet by thee for ever intertwined 1 HONOURS. [Dignities would be the better title, if the word wore not so essentially unpoetical.] When the column of light on the waters is glass'd, As blent in one glow seem the shine and the stream ; But wave after wave through the glory has pass'd, Just catches, and flies as it catches, the beam : So Honours but mirror on mortals their light ; Not the Man but the Place that ho passes is bright. POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM. What wonder this ? — we ask the'lymphid well, O Earth ! of thee — and from thy solemn womb What yield'st thou ? — Is there life in the abyss — Doth a new race beneath the lava dwell ? Returns the Past, awakening from the tomb ? Rome — Greece ! — 0, come ! — Behold — behold ! For this Our living world — the old Pompeii sees ; And built anew the town of Dorian Hercules ! House upon house — its silent halls once more Opes the broad Portico ! — 0, haste and fill Again those halls with life ! — 0, pour along Through the seven-vista'd theatre the throng ! Where are ye, mimes ? — Corne forth, the steel prepare For crown'd Atrides, or Orestes haunt. Ye choral Furies with your dismal chaunt ! The Arch of Triumph ! — whither leads it ? — still Behold the Forum ! — On the curule chair Where the majestic image ? Lictors, where Vour solemn fasces ? — Place upon his throne 70 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. The Praetor — liere the Witness lead, and there Bid the Accnser stand ! — God ! how lone The clear streets glitter in the qniet day — The footpath by the doors winding its lifeless w^j ! The roofs arise in shelter, and around The desolate Atrium — every gentle room Wears still the dear familiar smile of Home ! Open the doors — the shops — on dreary night Let lusty day laugh down in jocund light ! See the trim benches ranged in order ! — See The marble-tesselated floor — and there The very walls are glittering livingly With their clear colours. Bat the artist where ? Sure but this instant he hath laid aside Pencil and colours ! — Glittering on the eye Swell the rich fruits, and bloom the flowers ! — See all Art's gentle wreaths still fresh upon the wall ! Here the arch Cupid slyly seems to glide By with bloom-laden basket. There the shapes Of Genii press with purpling feet the grapes. Here springs the wild Bacchante to the dance, And there she sleeps [while that voluptuous trance Eyes the sly faun with never- sated glance] Now on one knee upon the centaur-steeds Hovering — the Thyrsus plies. — Hurrah ! — away she speeds ! Come — come, why loiter ye ? — Here, here, how fair The goodly vessels still ! Girls, hither turn, Pill from the fountain the Etruscan urn ! On the wing'd sphinxes see the tripod. — Ho! Quick — quick, ye slaves, come — fire ! — the hearth prepare ! Ha ! wilt thou sell ? — this coin shall pay thee — this, Fresh from the mint of mighty Titus ! — Lo ! Here lie the scales, and not a weight we miss ! So — bring the light ! The delicate lamp ! — what toil Shaped thy minutest grace ! — quick, pour the oil ! Yonder the fairy chest ! — come, maid, behold The bridegroom's gifts — the armlets — they are gold, And paste out-feigning jewels ! — lead the bride Into the odorous bath — lo, unguents still — LIGHT AND WAHMTH. 71 And still the crystal vase the ai^ts for hcaiity fill ! ]iut where the men of old — perchance a prizo More precious yet in yon papyrus lies, And see ev'n still the tokens of their toil — The waxen tablets — the recordin^^ style. The earth, with faithful watch, has hoarded all 1 Still stand the mute Penates in the hall ; Back to his haunts returns each ancient God. Why absent only from their ancient stand The Priests ? — waves Hermes his Caducean rod, And the wing'd victory struggles from the hand. Kindle the flame — behold the Altar there ! Long hath the Grod been wornhipless — To prayer ! LIGHT AN"D WARMTH. In cheerful faith that fears no ill The good man doth the world begin ; And dreams that all without shall still Reflect the trusting soul within. Warm with the noble vows of youth, Hallowing his true arm to the truth ; Yet is the littleness of all So soon to sad experience shown. That crowds but teacli him to recall And centre thought on self alone ; Till love, no more, emotion knows, And the heart freezes to repose. Alas ! though truth may licjld bestow, Not always luarmth the beams impart, Blest he who gains the BOON to know. Nor buys the knowledge with the heart. For warmth and light a blessing both to be, Feol as the Enthusiast — as the World- wise see. 1% POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEK. BREADTH AND DEPTH. EuLL many a sbining wit ono sees, Witli tongne on all things well -conversing ; The what can charm, the what can. please, In every nice detail rehearsing. Their raptm^es so transport the college, It seems one honeymoon of knowledge. Yet out they go in silence where They whilome held their learned prate j Ah ! he who would achieve the fair, Or sow the embryo of the great, Must hoard — to wait the ripening hour — In the least point the loftiest power. With wanton boughs and pranksome hues, Aloft in air aspires the stem ; The glittering leaves inhale the dews But fruits are not conceal'd in them. From the small kernel's undiscerned repose The oak that lords it o'er the Forest otows. THE PHILOSOPHICAL EGOIST. Hast thou the infant seen that yet, unknowing of the love Which warms and cradles, calmly sleeps the mother's heart above — Wandering from arm to arm, until the call of passion wakes. And glimmering on the conscious eye — the world in glory breaks ? — And hast thou seen the mother there her anxious vigil keep, Buying with love that never sleeps the darling's happy sleep ? With her own life she fans and feeds that weak life's trembling rays, And with the sweetness of the care, the care itself repays. '^fw^ FRIDOLIN. 73 And dosfc thou Nature then blaspheme — that, both the child and mother Each unto each unites, the while the one doth need the other ?— All self-sufficing wilt thou from that lovely circle stand — That creature still to ci'eaturo links in faith's familiar band ? Ah ! dar'st thou, poor one, from the rest thy lonely self estrange ? Eternal Power itself is but all powers in intercbange I FRIDOLIN ; OR, THE MESSAGE TO THE FORGE. [Schiller speaking of this Ballad, which he had then nearly concluded, sajs that ♦* accident had suggested to him a very pretty theme for a Eallad ; " and that " after having travelled through air and water," alluding to " The Cranes of Ibycus" and "The Diver," " ho should now claim to himself the l-llemcnt of Fire," — Hoffmeister supposes from the name of Savern, the French orthography for Zabern, a town in Alsatia, that Schiller took the material for his tale from a French source ; though there are German Legends analogous to it. The general style of the Ballad is simple almost to homeliness, though not to the puerility att'ected by some of our own Ballad writers.— But the pictures of the Forge and the Catholic lUtual are worked out with singular force and truthfubiess.] A HARMLESS lad was Eridolin, A pious youth was he ; He served and sought her grace to win, Count Savern's fair ladye ; And gentle was the Dame as fair, And light the toils of service there ; And yet the woman's wildest whim In her — had been but joy to him. Soon as the early morning shone. Until the vesper bell, For her sweet best he lived alone Nor e'er could serve too well. She bade him oft not labour so : But then his eyes would overflow. . . It seemed a sin if strength could swerve, From that one thought — her will to serve ! 71 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE. And so of all her House, tlie Daine Most favour'd him always ; And from her lip for ever came His unexhausted praise. On him, more like some gentle child, Than serving-youth, the lady smiled. And took a harmless pleasure in The comely looks of Fridolin. For this, the Huntsman Robert's heart The favour'd Henchman cursed ; And long, till ripen'd into art, The hateful envy nursed. His Lord^as rash of thought and deed : And thus the knave the deadly seed, (As from the chase they homeward rode,) That poisons thought to fury, sow'd — " Your lot, great Count, in truth is fair, (Thus spoke the craft suppress'd ;) The gnawing tooth of doubt can ne'er Consume your golden rest. He who a noble spouse can claim, Sees love begirt with holy shame ; Her truth no villain arts ensnare — The smooth seducer comes not there. " How now ! — bold man, what sayest thou ? " The frowning Count replied — " Think' st thou I build on woman's vow, Unstable as the tide ? Too well the flatterer's lip allureth — On firmer ground my faith endiireth ; The Count Von Savern's wife unto No smooth seducer comes to woo ! " ''Right! " — quoth the other — "and your scorn The fool enow the fool chastises. Who though a simple vassal born, Himself so highly prizes ; Who buoys his heart with rash desires, And to the Damo he serves aspires." FRIDOLIN. 7 J " How ! '! cried the Count, and trembled—" How ! Of One who lives, then, speakest thou ? " '* Surely ; can that to all reveal'd Be all unknown to you ? Yet, from your ear if thus conceal'd, Let me be silent too." Out burst the Count, with gasping breath, i< Fool— fool !— thou speak'st the words of deatli ! What brain has dared so bold a sin ? " " My Lord, I spoke of Fridolin ! " His face is comely to behold " — He adds — then paused with art. The Count grew hot — the Count grew cold— The words had pierced his heart. " My gracious master sure must see That only in her eyes lives he ; Behind your board he stands unheeding, Close by her chair — his passion feeding. " And then the rhymes . . ." " The rhymes ! " " The same — Confess'd the frantic thought." " Confess'd ! " "Ay, and a muhml flame The foolish boy besought ! No doubt the Countess, soft and tender, Forbore the lines to you to render, . . . And I repent the babbling word That 'scaped ray lips — What ails my lord ? " Straight to a wood, in scorn and shame, Away Count Savern rode — Where, in the soaring f urnace-flarae. The molten iron glow'd. Here, late and early, still the brand Kindled the smiths, with crafty hand ; The bellows heave and the sparkles lly, As if they would melt down the mountains high. 76 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Tlieir strongtli tlie Fire, the Water gave, In interleagued endeavour ; The mill-wlieel, whirl'd amidst the wave, Rolls on for aye and ever — Here, day and night, resounds the clamour, While measured beats the heaving hammer ; And, suppled in that ceaseless storm, Iron to iron stamps a form. Two smiths before Count Savern bend, Forth-beckon'd from their task. " The first whom I to you may send, And who of you may ask — ' Have you my lord's command ohey\l ? ' — Thrust in the hell- fire yonder made ; Shrunk to the cinders of your ore. Let him offend mine eyes no more ! " Then gloated they — the griesly pair — They felt the hangman's zest ; For senseless as the iron there, The heart lay in the breast. And hied they, with the bellows' breath. To strengthen still the furnace-death ; . The murder-priests nor flag nor falter — • Wait the victim — trim the altar ! The huntsman seeks the page — Grod wot, How smooth a face hath he ! " Off, comrade, off ! and tarry not; Thy lord hath need of thee ! " Thus spoke his lord to Fridolin, " Haste to the forge the wood within, And ask the serfs who ply the trade — ^ Have you my lord's command ohey\l ? ' " " It shall be done " — and to the task He hies without delay. Had she not hest ? — 'twere well to ask. To make less long the way. So, wending backward at the thought, The youth the gracious lady sought. FRIDOLIN. 77 " Ere I go to the forge, I have come to thee : Hast thou any commands, by the road for me ? " *' I fain," thus spake that lady fair, In winsome tone and low, "But for mine infant ailing there, To hear the mass would go. Go thou, my child — and on the way, For me and mine thy heart shall pray ; Repent each sinful thought of thine — So shall thy soul find grace for mine ! '* Forth on the welcome task he wends, Her wish the task endears, Till, where the quiet hamlet ends, A sudden sound he hears. To and fro the church-bell, swinging, Cheerily, clearly forth is ringing ; Knelling souls that would repent To the Holy Sacrament. He thought, " Seek God upon thy way, And he will come to thee ! " He gains the House of Prayer to pray, But all stood silently. It was the Harvest's merry reign, The scythe was busy in the grain. One clerkly hand the rites require To serve the mass and aid the choir. At once the good resolve he takes, As sacristan to serve : " No halt," quoth he, " the footstep makes, That doth but heavenward swerve ! " So, on the priest, with humble soul. He hung the cingulum and stole, And eke prepares each holy thing To the high mass administering. Now, as the ministrant, before The priest he took his stand ; Now towards the altar moved, and boro The mass-book in his hand. 78 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Rlghtward, leftward kneeletli he, Watchful every sign to see ; Tinkling, as the sanctus fell, Thrice at each holy name, the bell. Now the meek priest, bending lowly. Turns unto the solemn shrine, And with lifted hand and holy. Rears the cross divine. While the clear bell, lightly swinging, That boy-sacristan is ringing ; — Strike their breasts, and down inclining. Kneel the crowd, the symbol signing. . Still in every point excelling. With a quick and nimble art — Every custom in that dwelling Knew the boy by heart ! To the close he tarried thus, Till Vohiscwn Dominus ; To the crowd inclines the priest. And the crowd have sign'cl — and ceased ! Now back in its appointed place, His footsteps but delay To range each symbol-sign of grace — Then forward on his way. So, conscience calm, he lightly goes ; Before his steps the furnace glows ; His lips, the while, (the count completing,) Twelve paternosters slow-repeating. He gain'd the forgo — the smiths survey'd, As there they grimly stand : " How fares it, friends ? — liave ye oheifd^^^ He cried, " my lorcVs command ? " " Ho ! ho ! " they shout and ghastly grin, And point the f arnace-throat within : " With zeal and heed, we did the deed — The master's praise, the servants' meed.'* FRIDOLIN. 79 On, with this answer, onward homo, With fleeter step he flies ; Afar, the Count beheld him come — He scarce could trust his ejes. " Whence com'st thou ? " " From the furnace." " So ! N"ot elsewhere ? troth, thy steps are slow; Thou hast loiter'd long ! "— " Yet only till I might the trust consign'd fulfil. " My noble lord, 'tis true, to-day, I'd chanced, on quitting thee, To ask my duties, on the way. Of her who guideth me. She bade me, (and how sweet and dear It was !) the holy mass to hear ; Rosaries four I told, delaying, Grace for thee and thine heart-praying." All stunn'd, Count Savern heard the speech — A wondering man was he ; "And when thou didst the furnace reach, What answer gave they thee ? " " An answer hard the sense to win ; Thus spake the men with ghastly grin, * With zeal and heed, we did the deed — The master's praise, the servants' meed.' " " And BoleH ? " — gasp'd the Count, as lost In awe, he shuddering stood — " Thou must, be sure, his path have cross'd ? I sent Mm to the ivoocl." *' In wood nor field where I have been, No single trace of him was seen." All deathlike stood the Count : " Thy might, O God of heaven, hath judged the right ! " Then meekly, humbled. from his pride. Ho took the servant's hand ; He led him to his lady's side. She nought mote understand. This child — no angel is more pure — Long may thy grace for him endure : 80 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEJR. Our strength how weak, our sense how dim- GOD AND HIS HOSTS AKE OVER HIM ! " THE YOUTH BY THE BROOK. [Sung in " The Parasite," a comedy which Schiller translated from Picard — much the best comedy, by the way, that Picard ever wrote.] Beside the brook the Boy reclin'd And wove his flowery wreath, And to the waves the wreath consign'd — The waves that danced beneath. " So fleet mine hours," he sighed, " away Like waves that restless flow : And, so my flowers of youth decay Like those that float below. " Ask not why I, alone on earth. Am sad in life's young time ; To all the rest are hope and mirth When spring renews its prime. Alas ! the music Nature makes. In thousand songs of gladness — While charming all around me, wakes My heavy heart to sadness. " Ah ! vain to me the joys that break From Spring, voluptuous are ; Fv, only One 'tis mine to seek — "The Near, yet ever Far ! 1 stretch my arms, that shadow-shape In fond embrace to hold ; Still doth the shade the clasp escape — The heart is unconsoled ! " Come forth, fair Friend, come forth below, And leave thy lofty hall, The fairest flowers the spring can know In thy dear lap shall fall ! Clear glides the brook in silver roU'd, Sweet carols fill the air ; The meanest hut hath space to hold A happy loving Pair ! " TO THE IDEAL. 31 TO THE IDEAL. [To appreciate the beauty of this Poem, — the reader must remember that it preceded our own School — we will not say of Egotism, but of Self- expression ; a school of which the great Byron is the everlasting master — and in which the Poet reveals the hearts of others,_ _bjt': f^^nfrfising the emot io na of I jia^_o^i Of late years we Have beCn overwhelmed witli •^ attempts at the kiHcTof pathos wnich the following stanzas embody with melancholy tenderness — yet with manly resignation. But at the time Schiller wrote this elegy on departed youth, he had the merit of originality — a merit the greater, because the Poem cxp rossna fR(^1in{> -s wbinh nIm nRf-. gfl of \i s have felt in the mwress ofJifc^^The only Poem written before it, '^srhicn It resembles, is tne ** uae'on a distant Prospect of Eton College," by our OAvn illustrious Gray, whom the little critics of our day seek to de- preciate.— Beautiful as the German's poem is (in his own language), the Englishman's excels it.] '^ Then wilt thon, with thy fancies holy — Wilt thou, faithless, fly from mo ? With thy joy, thy melancholy, Wilt thou thus relentless flee ? Golden Time, O Human May, Can nothing, Fleet One, thee restrain ? Must thy sweet river glide away Into the eternal Ocean-Main ? The suns serene are lost and vanish'd That wont the path of youth to gild, And all the fair Ideals banish'd From that wild heart they whilome fill'd. Gone the divine and sweet believing In dreams which Heaven itself unfurl'd ! What godlike shapes have years bereaving Swept from this real work-day world ! As once, with tearful passion fired. The Cyprian Sculptor clasped the stone, Till the cold cheeks, delight inspired, Blush'd — to sweet life the marble grown : So youth's desire for Nature ! — round The Statue, so my arms I wreathed, Till warmth and life in mine il; found, And breath that poets breathe — it breathed POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. With my own burning thoughts it burn'd ; — • Its silence stirr'd to speech divine ; — Its lips my glowing kiss return' d — Its heart in beating answer'd mine ! How fair was then the flower — the tree ! — How silver-sweet the fountain's fall ! The soulless had a soul to me ! My life its own life lent to all ! The Universe of things seem'd swelling The panting heart to burst its bound, And wandering Fancy found a dwelling In every shape — thought — deed, and sound. Germ'd in the mystic buds, reposing, A whole creation slumbered mute, A-las, when from the buds unclosing, How scant and blighted sprung the fruit ! How happy in his dreaming error His own gay valour for his wing, Of not one care as yet in terror, Did Youth upon his journey spring ; Till floods of balm, through air's dominion, Bore upward to the faintest star — For never aught to that bright pinion Could dwell too high, or spread too far. Though laden with delight, how lightly The wanderer heavenward still could soar. And aye the ways of life how brightly The airy Pageant danced before ! — Love, showering gifts (life's sweetest) down, Fortune, with golden garlands gay. And Fame, with starbeams for a crown. And Truth, whose dwelling is the Day. Ah ! midway soon lost evermore, A:'ar the blithe companions stray ; In v&in their faithless steps explore, As one by 'one, they ^Hde away. TO THE IDEAI.. 83 Fleet Fortano was the first escapcr — The thirst for wisdom linger 'd yefc ; But doubts with many a gloomy vapour The sun-shapo of the Truth beset ! The holy crown which Fame was wreathing, Behold ! the mean man's temples wore, And but for one short spring-day breathing, Bloom'd Love — the Beautiful — no more ! And ever stiller yet, and ever The barren path more lonely lay, Till scarce from waning Hope could quiver A glance along the gloomy way. Who, loving, lingered yet to guide me, When all her boon companions fled. Who stands consoling yet beside me. And follows to the House of Dread ? Thine Friendship — thine the hand so tender. Thine the balm dropping on the wound, Thy task, the load more light to render, O ! earliest sought and soonest found ! — And Thou, so j)leased, with her uniting, To charm the soul- storm into peace. Sweet TOIL, in toil itself delighting, That more it laboured, less could cease, Tho' but by grains thou aid'st the pile The vast Eternity uproars, At least thou strik'st from Time the while Life's debt — the minutes, days and years.* * Though the Ideal images of youth forsake us, the Ideal itself still remains to the Poet. It is his task and his companion — unlike the Phan- tasies of Fortune, Fame, and Love, the Phantasies of tlie Ideal are im- perishable. While, as the occupation of life, it pays off the debt of Time us the exalter of life it contributes to the Building of Eternity. ' c 2 S4 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. PHILOSOPHERS. To learn what gives to every thing The form and life which we survey, The law by which the Eternal King Moves all Creation's order'd ring, And keeps it from decay — When to great Doctor Wiseman we go — If help'd not out by Eichte's Ego — All from his brain that we can delve. Is this sage answer — " Ten's not Twelve." * The snow can chill, the fire can burn, Men when they walk on two feet go ; — A sun in Heaven all eyes discern — This through the senses we may learn, Nor go to school to know ! But the profounder student sees. That that which burns — will seldom freeze ; And can instruct the astonish'd hearer. How moisture moistens — light makes clearer. Homer composed his mighty song. The hero danger dared to scorn, The brave man did his duty, long Before — (and who shall say I'm wrong) — Philosophers were born ! * " Wemi Ich niclit drauf ihra helfe Er heisst : zehn ist nicht zwolfc." If the Ich in the text is correctly printed with a capital initial, the intention of Schiller must apparently oe to ridicule the absolute Ego of Fichte— a philosopher whom he elsewhere treats with very little ceremony — and thus Hoffnicistcr seems to interpret the meaning. — ^Hinrichs, on the other hand, quoting the passage without the capital initial, assumes the satire to be directed against the first great law of logic, which logicians call the Principle of Contradiction, viz., that it is impossible for a thing to be and not to be at the same time ; or, as Schiller expresses it, that it is impossible for ten to be both ten and twelve ; a truth which is obvious to all men, and which, precisely because it is obvious to all men. Philosophers can slate and explain. ' According to this interpretation, the sense of the translation is not correctly given, and Scliiller seems rather to say, "I should call that man exceedingly clever who could explain to me the great law of the Universe, if I did not first explain it to him by saying it is this, Ten is not Twelve--i. e., No philosopher can tell a plain man anything about a profouiul principle, which any plain man could not just as well have told to the rhilosophcr. PUNCH SONG. 85 Without Descartes and Locke — the Sun Saw things by Heart and Genius done, Which those great men have proved, on viewing, The — possibiUty of doing ! Strength in this life prevails and sways^ Bold Power oppresses humble Worth — He who can not command obeys — In short there's not too much to praise In this poor orb of earth. But how things better might be done, If sages had this world begun. By moral systems of their own. Most incontestably is shown ! " Man needs mankind, must be confest — In all he labours to fulfil, Must work, or with, or for, the rest ; 'Tis drops that swell the ocean's breast — 'Tis waves that turn the mill. The savage life for man unfit is. So take a wife and live in cities." Thus ex. cathedra teach, Ave know. Wise Messieurs Puffendorf and Co. Yet since, what grave professors preach. The crowd may be excused from knowing ; Meanwhile, old Nature looks to each. Tinkers the chain, and mends the breach. And keeps the clockwork going. Some day, Philosophy, no doubt, A better World will bring about : Till then the Old a little longer, Must blunder on — through Love and Hunger ! PUNCH SONG. Four Elements, join'd in An emulous strife. Fashion the world, and Constitute life. 86 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. From the sharp citron The starry jnice pour ; Acid to Life is The innermost core. Now, let the sugar The bitter one meet ; Still be life's bitter Tamed down with the sweet ! Let the bright water Flow into the bowl ; Water, the calm one, Kiiibraces the Whole. Drops from the spirit Pour quick'ning within ; Life but its life from The spirit can win. Haste, while it gloweth, Your vessels to bring ; The wave has but virtue Drunk hot from the spring ! PUNCH SONG. TO BE SUNG IN THE NORTH. On the free southern hills Where the full summers shine, Nature quicken'd by sunlight, Gives birth to the vine ! Her work the Great Mother Conceals from the sight, UntrackM is the labour, Unfathom'd the might. As the child of the sunbeam, The wine leaps to-day, From the tun springs the crystal, A fountain at play. PUNCH SONC. 87 All the senses it gladdens, Gives Hope to the breast ; To grief a soft balsam, To life a new zest. But, our zone palely gilding. The Sun of the North, From the leaves it scarce tintoth No fruit ripens forth. Yet life will ne'er freely Life's gladness resign : Our vales know no vineyard — Invent we a wine ! But wan the libation, In truth must appear ; Living Nature alone gives The bright and the clear ! Yet draw from the dim fount, The Waters of Mirth ! For Heaven gave us Art, The Prometheus of Earth. Wherever strength reacheth, What kingdoms await her ! From the Old, the New shaping, Art, ay — a Creator ! — The Elements' iinion Divides at her rod, With the hearth-flame she mimics The glow of a god. To Hcsperidan Islands She sends the ship forth ; Lo, the southern fruits lending Thoir gold to the North ! So, this sap wrung from flame bo A symbol-sign still. Of the wonders man works with The Force and the Will ! 88 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. PEGASUS IN HARNESS. At Smitlifield * once, as I've "been told, Or some sucli place where beasts are sold, A bard, whose bones from flesh were all free. Put Tip for sale the Muses' palfrey. His ears how cock'd, his tail how stiff ! Loud neigh'd the prancing Hippogriff. The crowd grew large, the crowd grew larger : " By Jove, indeed a splendid charger ! *T would suit some coach of state ! — the king's ! But, bless my soul, what frightful wings ! No doubt the breed is mighty rare — But who would coach it through the air ? Who'd trust his neck to such a flyer ? " — In short, the bard could find no buyer. At last a farmer pluck'd up mettle : " Let's see if we the thing can settle. These useless wings my man may lop. Or tie down tight—I likes a crop ! 'T might draw my cart ; it seems to frisk it ; Come, twenty pounds ! — ecod, I'll risk it." I blush to say the bard consented. And Hodge bears off his prize, contented. The noble beast is in the cart ; Hodge cries, " Gee hup ! " and off they start. He scarcely feels the load behind, Skirrs, scours, and scampers like the wind. The wings begin for heaven to itch. The wheels go devilish near the ditch ! "So ho ! " grunts Hodge, " 'tis more than funny ; I've got a penn'orth for my money. To-morrow, if I still survive, I have some score of folks to drive ; — The load of five the beast could drag on ; I'll make him leader to the wagon. Choler and collar wear with time ; The lively rogue is in his prime." • Literally " Hayinarket." PEGASUS IN HARNESS. 89 All's well at first ; a famous start — Wagon and team go like a dart. The wheelers' heavy plod behind him, But doubly speeds the task assign'd him ; Till, with tall crest, he snuffs the heaven, Spurns the dull road so smooth and even. True the impetuous instinct to, Field, fen, and bog, he scampers through. The frenzy seems to catch the team ; The driver tugs, the travellers scream. O'er ditch, o'er hedge, splash, dash, and crash on, Ne'er farmer flew in such a fashion. At last, all batter'd, bruised, and broken, (Poor Hodge's state may not be spoken,) Wagon, and team, and travellers stop. Perch' d on a mountain's steepest top ! Exceeding sore, and much perplext, " I fegs," the farmer cries, " what next ? This helter-skelter sport will never do, But break him in I'll yet endeavour to ; Let's see if work and starving diet Can't tame the monster into quiet ! " The proof was made, and save us ! if in Three days you'd seen the hippogriffiu. You'd scarce the noble beast have known. Starved duly down to skin and bone. Cries Hodge, rejoiced, " I have it now, Bring out my ox, he goes to plough." So said, so done, and droll the tether, Wing'd horse, slow ox, at plough together ! The unwilling griffin strains his might, One last strong struggle yet for flight ; In vain, for well inured to labour. Plods sober on his heavy neighbour, /. nd forces, inch by inch, to creep, The hoofs that love the air to sweep ; Until, worn out, the eye grows dim, The sinews fail the f ounder'd limb. The god-steed droops, the strife is past. He writhes amidst the mire at last ! *' Accursed brute ! " the farmer cries ; And, while he bawls, the cart- whip plies. 90 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. " All use it seems you tliiuk to sbirk So fierce to run — so dull to work ! My twenty pounds ! — Not worth, a pin ! Confound the rogue who took me in ! " He vents his wrath, he plies his thong, When, lo ! there gaily comes along, With looks of light and locks of yellow, And lute in hand, a buxom fellow ; Through the bright clusters of his hair A golden circlet glistens fair. " What's this — a wondrous yoke and pleasant ' Cries out the stranger to the peasant. " The bird and ox thus leash'd together — Come, prithee, just unbrace the tether : But let me mount him for a minute — That beast ! — you'll see how much is in it." The steed released — the easy stranger Leaps on his back, and smiles at danger ; Scarce felt that steed the master's rein, When all his fire returns again : He champs the bit — he rears on high. Light, like a soul, looks from his eye ; Changed from a creature of the sod, Behold the spirit and the god : As sweeps the whirlwind, heavenward springs The unfurl'd glory of his wings. Before the eye can track the flight, Lost in the azure fields of light. HERO AND LEANDER, A BALLAD. [We have already seen, in "The Ring of Polj^cratcs," Scliiller's mode of dealing with classical subjects. In the poems that follow, derived from similar sources, the same spirit is maintained. In spite of Humboldt, we venture to think that Schiller certainly does not nan-ate Gx'eck legends in the spirit of an ancient Greek. The Gothic sentiment, in its ethical depth and mournful tenderness, more or less pervades all that he translates from classic fable into modem pathos. The grief of Hero, in the ballad sub- joined, touches closely on the lamentations of T/te/.Yfl', in " Wallenstein." The Complaint of Ceres, embodies Christian Grief and Christian Hope. The Trojan Cassandra expresses the moral of the Northern Faust. Even the "Victory Feast" changes the whole spirit of Homer, on whom it is HERO AND LEANDER. 9l founded, by the introduction of the Etliical Sentiment at the close, borrowed, ns a modern would apjjly Avhat ho so borrows, from the moralising Horace. Nothiiij^ can be more foreign to the Hellenic Genius (if we except the very disputable intention of the " Trometheus"), than the interior and typical design which usually exalts every conception in Schiller. But it is per- fectly open to the Modem Poet to treat of ancient legends in the modern spirit. Though he selects a Greek story, he is still a modern who narrates — he can never inake himself a Greek, any more than JEschylus in tlie " Persa) " could make himself a Persian. Eut this is still more the privilege of the Poet in Narrative, or lyrical composition, than in the Drama, for in the former he does not abandon his identity, as in the latter he must — yet even this mtcst has its limits. Shakespeare's Avonderful power of self- transfusion has no doubt enabled him, in his Piays from Roman History, to animate his characters with much of Roman life. But no one can maintain that a Roman would ever have written plays, in the least resembling " Julius Cajsar," or *' Coriolanus," or "Antony and Cleopatra." The Portraits may be Roman, but they arc painted in the manner of the Gothic school. The Spirit of antiquity is only in them, inasmuch as the representation of Human Natui'o, under certain circumstances, is accurately, though loosely outlined. When the Poet raises the dead, it is not to restore, but to remodel.] See you the towers, that, gray and old, Frown through the sunlight's liquid gold, Steep sternly fronting steep ? The Hellespont beneath them swells, And roaring cleaves the Dardanelles, The Rock- Gates of the Deep ! Hear you the Sea, whose stormy wave. From Asia, Europe clove in thunder ? That sea which rent a world can not Rend Love from Love asunder ! In Hero's, in Leander's heart, Thrills the sweet anguish of the dart Whose feather flies from Love. All Hebe's bloom in Hero's cheek — And his the hunters's steps that seek Delight, the hills above ! Between their sires the rival feud Forbids their plighted hearts to meet ; Love's fruits hang over Danger's gulf, By danger made more sweet. Alone on Sestos' rocky tower. Where upward sent in stormy shower, The whirling waters foam, — 9a POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEK. Alone the maiden sits, and eyes The cliffs of fair Abydos rise Afar — her lover's home. Oh, safely thrown from strand to strand, No bridge can love to love convey j No boatman shoots from yonder shore, Yet Love has found the way. — That Love, which could the Labyrinth piercc- Which nerves the weak, and curbs the herce, And wings with wit the dull ; — That Love which o'er the furrow'd land Bow'd — tame beneath young Jason's hand — The fiery-snorting Bull ! Yes, Styx itself, that nine-fold flows. Has Love, the fearless, ventured o'er, And back to daylight borne the bride, From Pinto's dreary shore ! What marvel then that wind and wave, Leander doth but burn to brave. When Love, that goads him, guides ! Still when the day, with fainter glimmer, Wanes pale — he leaps, the daring swimmer. Amid the darkening tides ; With lusty arms he cleaves the waves, And strives for that dear strand afar ; Where high from Hero's lonely tower Lone streams the Beacon-star. In vain his blood the wave may chill. These tender arms can warm it still — And, weary if the way, By many a sweet embrace, above All earthly boons — can liberal Love The Lover's toil repay. Until Aurora breaks the dream. And warns the Loiterer to depart — Back to the ocean's icy bed. Scared from that loving heart. HERO AND LEANDER. 9.'^ So thirty suns have sped their flight — Still in that theft of sweet delight Exult the happy pair ; Caress will never pall caress, And joys that gods might envy, bless The single bride-night there. Ah ! never he has rapture known, Who has not, where the waves arc driven Upon the fearful shores of Hell, Pluck' d fruits that taste of Heaven ! Now changing in their Season are, The Morning and the Hesper Star ; — Nor see those happy eyes The leaves that withering droop and fall. Nor hear, when, from its northern hall, The neighbouring Winter sighs ; Or, if they sec, the shortening days But seem to them to close in kindness ; For longer joys, in lengthening nights, They thank the heaven in blindness. It is the time, when Night and Day, In equal scales contend for sway * Lone, on her rocky steep, Lingers the girl with wistful eyes That watch the sun- steeds down the skies, Careering towards the deep. Luird lay the smooth and silent sea, A mirror in translucent calm, The breeze, along that crystal realm, Unmurmuring, died in balm. In wanton swarms and blithe array. The merry dolphins glide and play Amid the silver waves. In gray and dusky troops are seen, The hosts that serve the Ocean-Queen, Upborne from coral caves : * This notes the time of year — uot tlie time of day — viz., about tlio 2.^nl of September.— lIoFFMEiSTEK. 94 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. They — only they — have witness'd loye To rapture steal its secret way : And Hecate * seals the only lips That could the tale betray ! She marks in joy the lulled water, And Sestos, thus thy tender daughter, Soft-flattering, woos the sea ! " Fair god — and canst thou then betray ? No ! falsehood dwells with them, that say That falsehood dwells with thee ! Ah ! faithless is the race of man, And harsh a father's heart can prove ; But thee, the gentle and the mild. The grief of love can move ! " Within these hated walls of stone, Should I, repining, mourn alone, And fade in ceaseless care. But thou, though o'er thy giant tide, Nor bridge may span, nor boat may glide, Dost safe my lover bear. And darksome is thy solemn deep. And fearful is thy roaring wave ; But wave and deep are won by love — Thou smilest on the brave ! " Nor vainly, Sovereign of the Sea, Did Eros send his shafts to thee : What time the Ram of Cold, Bright Hclle, with her brother bore, How stirr'd the weaves she wander'd o'er, How stirr'd thy deeps of old ! Swift, by the maiden's charms subdued, Thou cam'st from out the gloomy waves, And, in thy mighty arms, she sank Into thy bridal caves. " A goddess with a god, to keep In endless youth, beneath the deep. Her solemn ocean-court ! * Hecate, as the mysterious Goddess of Natm'e.— HorPMEiSTER. HERO AND LEANDER. 95 And still she smoothes thine angry tides, Tames thy wild heart, and favouring guides The sailor to the port ! Beautiful Helle, bright one, hear Thy lone adoring suppliant pray ! And guide, O goddess — guide my love Along the wonted way ! " Now twilight dims the water's flow, And from the tower the beacon's glow Waves flickering o'er the main. Ah, where athwart the dismal stream, Shall shine the Beacon's faithful beam The lover's eye shall strain ! Hark ! sounds moan threat'ning from afar — From heaven the blessed stars are gone — More darkly swells the rising sea — The tempest labours on ! Along the ocean's boundless plains Lies Night — in torrents rush the rains From the dark-bosom'd cloud — Red lightning skirs the panting air. And, loosed from out their rocky lair, Sweep all the storms abroad. Huge wave on huge wave tumbling o'er, The yawning gulf is rent asunder, And shows, as through an opening pall, Grim earth — the ocean under ! Poor maiden ! bootless wail or vow — "Hiive mercy, Jove — be gracious, Thou! Dread prayer was mine before ! What if the gods have heard — and he, Lone victim of the stormy sea, Now struggles to the shore ! There's not a sea-bird on the wave — Their hurrying wings the shelter seek ; The stoutest ship the storms have proved, Takes refuf]'e in the creek. 96 POEMS AND BALLADS OP SCHILLER. " Ah, still that heart, which oft has bravcl The danger where the daring saved, Love Inreth o'er the sea j — For many a vow at parting morn, That nought but death should bar return, Breathed those dear lips to me ; And whirl' d around, the while I weep. Amid the storm that rides the wave, The giant gulf is grasping down The rash one to the grave ! " False Pontus ! and the calm I hail'd. The awaiting murder darkly veil'd — The lull'd pellucid flow. The smiles in which thou wert array'd, Were but the snares that Love betray'd To thy false realm below ! Now in the midway of the main. Return relentlessly forbidden, Thou loosenest on the path beyond The horrors thou hadst hidden." Loud and more loud the tempest raves. In thunder break the mountain waves, White foaming on the rock — No ship that ever swept the deep Its ribs of gnarled oak could keep Unshatter'd by the shock. Dies in the blast the guiding torch To light the struggler to the strand ; *Tis death to battle with the wave, And death no less to land ! On Venus, daughter of the seas. She calls the tempest to appease — To each wild- shrieking wind Along the ocean-desert borne. She vows a steer with golden horn — Vain VOAV — relentless wind ! On every goddess of the deep. On all the gods in heaven that be. She calls — to soothe in calm, awhile, The tempest-laden sea ! HERO AND LEANDEE. 97 ** Hearken the anguish of my cries ! From thy green halls, arise — arise, Lencothoe the divine ! Who, in the barren main afar, Oft on the storm-boat mariner Dost gently-saving shine. Oh, reach to him thy mystic veil, To which the drowning clasp may cling, And safely from that roaring grave. To shore my lover bring ! " And now the savage winds are hushing, And o'er the arch'd horizon, blushing. Day's chariot gleams on high ! Back to their wonted channels roll'd. In crystal calm the waves behold — One smile on sea and sky ! All softly breaks the rippling tide. Low-murmuring on the rocky land, And playful wavelets gently float A Corpse upon the strand ! 'T is he ! — who ev'n in death would still Not fail the sweet vow to fulfil ; She looks — sees — knows him there ! From her pale lips no sorrow speaks. No tears glide down the hueless cheeks, Cold — numb'd in her despair — She look'd along the silent deep, She look'd upon the bright 'ning heaven, Till to the marble face the soul Its light sublime had given ! *' Ye solemn Powers men shrink to name, Your might is here, your rights ye claim — Yet think not I repine : Soon closed my course ; yet I can bless The life that brought me happiness — The fairest lot was mine ! Living have I thy temple served. Thy consecrated priestess been— My last glad offering now receive Venus, thou mightiest queen ! '* H 98 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Flash' d the white robe along the air, And from the tower that beetled there She sprang into the wave ; Roused from his throne beneath the waste, Those holy forms the god embraced — A god himself their grave ! Pleased with his prey, he glides along — More blithe the murmnr'd music seems, A gush from unexhausted urns His Everlasting Streams ! THE PLAYINa INFANT. Play on thy mother's bosom, Babe, for in that holy isle The error cannot find thee yet, the grieving, nor the guile ; Held in thy mother's arms above Life's dark and troubled wave. Thou lookest with thy fearless smile upon the floating grave. Play, .loveliest Innocence ! — Thee, yet Arcadia circles round, A charmed power for thee has set the lists of fairy ground ; Each gleesome impulse Nature now can sanction and befriend, Nor to that willing heart as yet the Duty and the End. Play, for the haggard Labour soon will come to seize its pi^ey, Alas ! when Duty grows thy law — Enjoyment fades away ! CASSANDRA. [There is peace between the Greeks and Trojans — Achilles is to wed Polyxena, Priam's daughter. On entering the Temple, he is shot through his only vulnerable part by Paris.— The time of the following Poem is during the joyous preparations for the marriage.] And mirth was in the halls of Troy, Brfore her towers and temples fell ; High peal'd the choral hymns of joy, Melodions to the golden shell. CASSANDRA. The weary had reposed from slaughter — The eyo forgot the tear it shed ; This day King Priam's lovely daughter Shall great Pelides wed ! Adorn'd with laurel boughs, they come, Crowd after crowd— the way divine. Where fanes are deck'd — for gods the home- And to the Thymbrian's * solemn shrine. The wild Bacchantic joy is madd'ning The thoughtless host, the fearless guest ; And there, the unheeded heart is sadd'ning 07ie solitary breast ! Unjoyous in the joyful throng, Alone, and linking life with none, Apollo's laurel groves among, The still Cassandra wander'd on ! Into the forest's deep recesses The solemn Prophet- Maiden pass'd, And, scornful, from her loosen'd tresses, The sacred fillet cast ! " To all, its arms doth Mirth unfold. And every heart forgoes its cares — And Hope is busy in the old — The bridal-robe my sister wears — And I alone, alone am weeping ; The sweet delusion mocks not me — Around these walls destruction sweeping, More near and near I see ! " A torch before my vision glows. But not in Hymen's hand it shines, A flame that to the welkin goes, Bui> not from holy offering-shrines ; Glad hands the banquet are preparing, And near, and near the halls of state I hear the God that comes unsparing, I hear the steps of Fate. Apollo. n 2 100 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. " And men my prophet- wail deride ! The solemn sorrow dies in scorn ; And lonely in the waste, I hide The tortured heart that would forewarn. Amidst the happy, unregarded, Mock'd by their fearful joy, I trod ; Oh, dark to me the lot awarded, Thou evil Pythian god ! " Thine oracle, in Tain to be, Oh, wherefore am I thus consign'd With eyes that every truth must see. Lone in the City of the Blind ? Cursed with the anguish of a power To view the fates I may not thrall. The hovering tempest still must lower — The horror must befall ! " Boots it the veil to lift, and give To sight the frowning fates beneath ? For error is the life we live. And, oh, our knowledge is but death ! Take back the clear and awful mirror. Shut from mine eyes the blood-red glare ; Thy truth is but a gift of terror When mortal lips declare. " My blindness give to me once more* - The gay dim senses that rejoice ; The Past's delighted songs are o'er For lips that speak a Prophet's voice. To me the future thou hast granted ; I miss the moment from the chain — The happy Present- Hour enchanted ! Take back thy gift again I '* Never for me the nuptial wreath The odour-breathing hair shall twine ; My heavy heart is bow'd beneath The service of thy dreary shrine. "Everywhere," says Hoffmeister truly, "Schiller exalts Ideal Belief over real wisdom ; —everywhere this modern Apostle of Christianity advo- cates that Ideal, which exists in Faith and emotion, against the wi.sdom of worldly intellect, the ban-en experience of life," &c. CASSANDRA. 101 My youth was but by tears corroded,: — My sole familiar is my pain, Each coming ill my heart foreboded, And felt it first — in vain ! " How cheerly sports the careless mirth, — The life that loves, around I see ; Fair youth to pleasant thoughts give birth — The heart is only sad to me. Not for mine eyes the young spring gloweth, When earth her haj^py feast-day keeps ; The charm of life who ever knoweth That looks into the deeps ? " Wrapt in thy bliss, my sister, thine The heart's inebriate rapture-springs ; — Longing with bridal arms to twine The bravest of the Grrecian kings. High swells the joyous bosom, seeming Too narrow for its world of love, Nor envies, in its heaven of dreaming, The heaven of gods above ! " I too might know the soft controul Of one the longing heart could choose, With look which love illumes with soul — The look that supplicates and woos. And sweet with him, where love presiding Prepares our hearth, to go — but, dim, A Stygian shadow, nightly gliding, Stalks between me and him ! " Forth from the grim funereal shore. The Hell- Queen sends her ghastly bands ; Where'er I turn — behind — before — Dumb in my path — a Spectre stands ! Wherever gayliest, youth assembles — I see the shades in horror clad, Amidst Hell's ghastly People trembles One soul for ever sad ! 102 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. " I see the steel of Murder gleam — I see the Murderer's glowing eyes — To right — to left, one gory stream — One circling fate — my flight defies ! I may not turn my gaze — all seeing, Foreknowing all, I dumbly stand — To close in blood my ghastly being In the far strangers' land ! " Hark ! while the sad sounds murmur round, Hark, from the Temple-porch, the cries ! — A wild, confused, tumultuous sound ! — Dead the divine Pelides lies ! Grim Discord rears her snakes devouring — The last departing god hath gone ! And, womb'd in cloud, the thunder, lowering, Hangs black on Ilion. Note.— TJi)on this poem, Madame de Stael makes the following iust and striking criticism. — V Allemaffnc, Part II. c. 13. " One sees in this ode, the curse inflicted on a mortal by the prescience of a god. Is not the grief of the prophetess that of all who possess a superior intellect with an im- passioned heart ? Under a shape wholly poetic, Schiller has embodied an idea grandly moral— viz., that the true genius (that of the sentiment) is a victim to itself, even when spared by others. There are no nuptials for Cassandra : not that she is insensible — not_ that she is disdained, but the clear penetration of her soul passes in an instant both life and death, and can only repose in Heaven." THE VICTORY FEAST. [In this Lyric, Schiller had a notion of raising the popular social song from the prosaic vulgarity common to it — into a higher and more epic dignity.] The stately walls of Troy had sunken, Her towers and temples strew'd the soil ; The sons of Hellas, victory-drunken, Richly laden with the spoil, Are on their lofty barks reclin'd Along the Hellespontine strand ; A gleesome freight the favouring wind Shall bear to Grreece's glorious land ; THE VICTORY FEAST. 103 And gleesomc chaunt tlie choral strain, As towards tlio lionsoliold altars, now, Each bark inclines the painted prow — For Home shall smile again ! And there the Trojan women, weeping, Sit ranged in many a length'ning row ; Their heedless locks, dishevell'd, sweeping Adown the wan cheeks worn with woe. No festive sounds that peal along, Their mournful dirge can overwhelm ; Through hymns of joy one sorrowing song Commingled, wails the ruin'd realm. " Farewell, beloved shores ! " it said, " From home afar behold us torn, By foreign lords as captives borne— Ah, happy are the dead ! " And Calchas, while the altars blaze. Invokes the high gods to their feast ! On Pallas, mighty or to raise * Or shatter cities, call'd the Priest — And Him, who wreathes around the land The girdle of his watery world, And Zeus, from whose almighty hand The terror and the bolt are hurl'd. Success at last awards the crown — The long and weary war is past ; Time's destined circle ends at last — And fall'n the Mighty Town ! The Son of Atreus, king of men. The muster of the hosts survey'd. How dwindled from the thousands, when Along Scamander first array'd ! With sorrow and the cloudy thought. The Great King's stately look grew dim — Of all the hosts to Ilion brought. How few to Greece return with him ! Still let the song to gladness call, For those who yet their homes shall greet ! — For them the blooming life is sweet : Return is not for all ! 104 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Nor all wlio reach, their native land May long the joy of welcome feel — Beside the household gods may stand Grim Mnrther with awaiting steel ; And they who 'scape the foe, may die Beneath the foul familiar glaive. Thus He * to whose prophetic eye Her light the wise Minerva gave : — • "Ah ! blest whose heai-th, to memory true, The goddess keeps unstain'd and pure — For woman's guile is deep and sure, And Falsehood loves the New ! '* The Spartan eyes his Helen's charms, By the best blood of Greece recaptured ; Round that fair form his glowing arms — (A second bridal) — wreathe enraptured. " Woe waits the work of evil birth — Revenge to deeds unblest is given ! For watchful o'er the things of earth, The eternal Council-Halls of Heaven. Yes, ill shall ever ill repay — Jove to the impious hands that stain The Altar of Man's Hearth, again The doomer's doom shall weigh ! " " "Well they, reserved for joy to-day," Cried out Oileus' valiant son, "May laud the favouring gods who sway Our earth, their easy thrones upon ; With careless hands they mete our doom, Our woe or welfare Hazard gives — Patroclus slumbers in the tomb, And all unharm'd Thersites lives. If Fate, then, showers without a choice The lots of luck and life on all, Let him on whom the prize may fall,— Let him who lives — rejoice ! * Ulysses. THE VICTORY FEAST. 105 " Yes, war will still devour the best ! — Brother, remember' d in this hour ! His shade should bo in feasts a guest, Whose form was in the strife a tower ! What time our ships the Trojan fired. Thine arm to Greece the safety gave — The prize to which thy soul aspired, The crafty wrested from the brave.* Peace to thine ever-holy rest — Not thine to fall before the foe ! Ajax alone laid Ajax low : Ah — wrath destroys the best ! " To his dead sire — (the Dorian king) — The bright-hair'd Pyrrhus f pours the wine : — "O'er every lot that life can bring, My soul, great Father, prizes thine. Whate'er the goods of earth, of all, The highest and the holiest — Fame I For when the Form in dust shall fall, O'er dust triumphant lives the Name ! Brave Man, thy light of glory never Shall fade, while song to man shall last ; The Living soon from earth are pass'd, * The Dead — endure for ever ! ' " " Since all are mute to mourn and praise In Victory^s hour, the vanquish'd Man- Be mine at least one voice to raise For Hector," Tydeus' son began : " A Tower before his native town ; He stood — and fell as fall the brave. . The conqueror wins the brighter crown. The conquer'd has the nobler grave ! * Need we say to the general reader, that allusion is here made to the strife between Ajax and Ulysses, wliich has furnished a subject to the Greek tragic poet, who has depicted, more strikingly tluui any historian, that intense emulation for glory, and tli;«t mortal agony in defeat, which con- stituted the main secret of the prodigious energy of the Greek character ? The Tragic poet, in taking his hero from the Homeric age, endowed him with the feelings of the Athenian republicans he addressed. t Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles. 106 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. He who brave life shall bravely close, For Home and Hearth, and Altar slain, If mourn' d by Friends, shall glory gain Out of the lips of Foes ! " Lo, Nestor now, whose stately age Through threefold lives of mortals lives ! — The laurel'd bowl, the kingly sage To Hector's tearful mother gives. ''Drink — in the draught new strength is glowing, The grief it bathes forgets the smart ! O Bacchus ! wond'rous boons bestowing, Oh how thy balsam heals the heart ! Drink — in the draught new vigour gloweth, The grief it bathes forgets the smart — And balsam to the breaking heart, The healing god bestoweth. " As Niobe, when weeping mute. To angry gods the scorn and prey, But tasted of the charmed fruit. And cast despair itself away ; So, while unto thy lips, its shore. This stream of life enchanted flows, Remember'd grief, that stung before. Sinks down to Lethe's calm repose. So, while unto thy lips, its shore, The stream of life enchanted flows— Drown'd deep in Lethe's calm repose, The grief that stung before ! " Seized by the god, behold the dark And dreaming prophetess arise. She gazes from the lofty Bark Where Home's dim vapours wrap the skies — " A vapour all of human birth Like mists ascending, seen and gone. So fade Earth's great ones from the Earth And leave the changeless gods alone. Behind the steed that skirs aAvay ; And on the galley's deck — sits Care, To-morrow comes, and we are where ? At least we'll live to-day ! " THE CRANES OF IBYCUS. 107 THE CRANES OF IBYCUS. From Rhenium to the Isthmus, long Hallow'd to steeds and glorious song, Where, link'd awhile in holy peace. Meet all the sons of martial Greece — Wends Ibycua — whose lips the sweet And ever-young Apollo fires ; The staff supports the wanderer's feet — The God the Poet's soul inspires ! 'Soon from the mountain-ridges high, The tower-crown'd Corinth greets his eye ; In Neptune's groves of darksome pine, He treads with shuddering awe divine ; Nought lives around him, save a swarm Of Cranes, that still pursued his way — Lured by the South, they wheel and form In ominous groups their wild array. And *' Hail ! beloved Birds ! " he cried ; "My comrades on the ocean tide. Sure signs of good ye bode to me ; Our lots alike would seem to be ; From far, together borne, we greet A shelter now from toil and danger ; And may the friendly hearts we meet Preserve from every ill — the Stranger ! ** His step more light, his heart more gay, Along the mid-wood winds his way. When, where the path the thickets close, Burst sudden forth two rufiian foes ; Now strife to strife, and foot to foot ! Ah ! weary sinks the gentle hand ; The gentle hand that wakes the lute Has learn 'd no lore that guides the brand. He calls on meii and Gods — in vain ! His cries no blest deliverer gain ; Feebler and fainter grows the sound, And still the deaf life slumbers round — 108 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. *' In the far land I fall forsaken, Unwept and unregarded, here ; By death from caitiff hands o'ertaken, Nor ev'n one late avenger near ! " Down to the earth the death-stroke bore him — Hark, where the Cranes wheel dismal o'er hijn ! He hears, as darkness veils his eyes, Near, in hoarse croak, their dirgelike cries. " Ye whose wild wings above me hover, (Since never voice, save yonrs alone, The deed can tell) — the hand discover — Avenge ! " — He spoke, and life was gone. Naked and maim'd the corpse was found — And, still through many a mangling wound, The sad Corinthian Host could trace The loved — too well-remember'd face. "And must I meet thee thus once more? Who hoped with wreaths of holy pine. Bright with new fame — the victory o'er — The Singer's temples to entwine ! " And loud lamented every guest * Who held the Sea-God's solemn feast — As in a single heart prevailing. Throughout all Hellas went the wailing. Wild to the Council Hall they ran — In thunder rush'd the threat'ning Flood — " Revenge shall right the murder'd man, The last atonement — blood for blood ! " Yet 'mid the throng the Isthmus claims, Lured by the Sea- God's glorious games — The mighty many-nation'd throng — How track the hand that wrought the wrong How guess if that dread deed were done, By ruffian hands, or secret foes ? He w^ho sees all on earth — the Sun — Alone the gloomy secret knows. THE CRANES OF IBYCUS. 109 Perchance he treads in careless peace, Amidst your Sons, assembled Greece — Hears with a smile revenge decreed — Gloats with fell joy upon the deed — His steps the avenging gods may mock Within the very Temple's wall, Or mingle with the crowds that flock To yonder solemn scenic * hall. Wedg'd close, and serried, swarms the crowd — Beneath the weight the walls are bow'd — Thitherwards streaming far, and wide, Broad Hellas flows in mingled tide — A tide like that which heaves the deep When hollow-sounding, shoreward driven ; On, wave on wave, the thousands sweep Till arching, row on row, to heaven ! The tribes, the nations, who shall name. That guest-like, there assembled came ? From Theseus' town, from Aulis' strand — From Phocis, from the Spartans' iand — From Asia's wave-divided clime. The Isles that gem the -^grean Sea, To hearken on that Stage Sublime, The Dark Choir's mournful melody I True to the awful rites of old. In long and measured strides, behold The Chorus from the hinder ground, Pace the vast circle's solemn round. So this World's women never strode. Their race from Mortals ne'er began, Gigantic, from their grim abode. They tower above the Sons of Man ! Across their loins the dark robe clinging. In fleshless hands the torches swinging, Now to and fro, witli dark red glow — No blood that lives the dead cheeks know 1 ♦ The theatre, 110 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Where flow the locks that woo to love On human temples — ghastly dwell The serpents, coil'd the brow above, And the green asps with poison swell. Thus circling, horrible, within That space — doth their dark hymn begin, And round the sinner as they go. Cleave to the heart their words of woe. Dismally wails, the senses chilling, The hymn — the FuiiiEs' solemn song ; And froze the very marrow thrilling As roU'd the gloomy sounds along. " And weal to him — from crime secure — Who keeps his soul as childhood's pure ; Life's path he roves, a wanderer free — We near him not — The Avengers, We ! But woe to him for whom we weave The doom for deeds that shun the light : Fast to the murderer's feet we cleave, The fearful Daughters of the Night. *' And deems he flight from us can hide him ? Still on dark wings We sail beside him ! The murderer's feet the snare enthralls — Or soon or late, to earth he falls ! Untiring, hounding on, we go ; For blood can no remorse atone ! On, ever — to the Shades below, And there — we grasp him, still our own ! " So singing, their slow dance they wreathe, And stillness, like a silent death, Heavily there lay cold and drear, As if the Godhead's self were near. Then, true to those strange rites of old. Pacing the circle's solemn round, In long and measured strides — behold, They vanish in the hinder ground ! THE CRANES OF IBYCUS. Ill Confused and donbtful — half between The solemn truth and phantom scene, The crowd revere the Power, presiding O'er secret deeps, to justice guiding — The Unfathom'd and Inscrutable By whom the web of doom is spun ; Whose shadows in the deep heart dwell, Whose form is seen not in the sun ! Just then, amidst the highest tier, Breaks forth a voice that starts the ear ; " See there — see there, Timotheus ; Behold the Cranes of Ibycus ! " A sudden darkness wraps the sky ; Above the roofless building hover Dusk, swarming wings ; and heavily Sweep the slow Cranes — ^hoarse-murmuring, over! " Of Ibycus ? " — that name so dear Thrills through the hearts of those who hear ! Like wave on wave in eager seas. From mouth to mouth the murmur flees — " Of Ibycus, whom we bewail ? The murder'd one ! What mean those words ? Who is the man — knows lie the tale ? Why link that name with those wild birds ? " Questions on questions louder press — Like lightning flies the inspiring guess — Leaps every heart — " The truth we seize ; Your might is here, Eumenides ! The murderer yields himself confest — Vengeance is near — that voice the token — Ho ! — him who yonder spoke, arrest ! — And him to whom the words were spoken ! " Scarce had the wretch the words let fall, Than fain their sense he would recall. In vain ; those whitening lips, beliold ! The secret have already told. 112 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Into their Judgment Court sublime The Scene is changed ; — their doom is seal'd ! Behold the dark unwitness'd Crime, Struck by the light' ning that reveal'd ! The principal sources -whence Schiller has taken the story of Ibycus (which was well known to the ancients, and indeed gave rise to a proverb) are Suidas and Plutarch. Ibycus is said by some to have been the Inventor of the Sambuca or triangular Cithera. "VVe must observe, however — (though erudite investigation on such a subject were misplaced here), that Athenaeus and Strabo consider the Sambuca to have originated with the Syrians, and this supposition is rendered the more probable by the similarity of the Greek word Avith the Hebrew, which in our received translation of the Eiblo is rendered by the word Sackbut. The tale, in its leading incidents, is told very faithfully by Schiller : it is the moral, or interior meaning, which ho has heightened and idealised. Plutarch is contented to draw from the story a moral against loquacity. "It was not," says he, "the Cranes that be- trayed the nuu'derers, but their own garrulity." With Schiller the garrulity is produced by the surprise of the Conscience, which has been awakened by the Apparition and Song of the Furies. His own conceptions as to the effect he desired to create are admirable. " It is not precisely that the Hymn of the Furies" (remarks the poet) "has roused the remorse of the murderer, whose exclamation betrays himself and his accomplice ; that was not my meaning — but it has reminded him of his deed : his sense is struck with it. In this moment the appearance of the Cranes must take him by surprise ; he is a rude, dull churl, over whom the impulse of the moment has all power. His loud exclamation is natural in such circumstances." " That he feels no great remorse, in this thoughtless exclamation, is evident by the quick, snappish nature of it : — ' See there, see there ! ' &c." — " In any other state of mind," observes Hoftmeister, " perhaps the Audience might not have attended to this ejaculation — but at that moment of deep inward emotion, produced by the representation of the fearful Goddesses, and an excited belief in their might, the name of the newly-murdered man must have struck them as the very voice of Fate, in which the speaker betrayed him- self."' — In fact the poem is an illustration of Schiller's own lines in " The Artists," written eight years before : — *' Here secret Murder, pale and shuddering, sees Sweep o'er the stage the stern Eumenides ; Owns, where law fails, what powers to art belong, And, screened from justice, finds its doom in song ! " In the foregoing ballad Poetry (that is, the Dirge and dramatic repre- sentation of the Furies) acts doubly — first on the Murderer^ next on the Audience ; it surprises the one into self-betrayal, it prepares in the other that state of mind in which, as by a divine instinct, the quick perception seizes upon the truth. In this double eftect is nobly typified the power of Poetry on the individual and on the multitude. Kightly did Schiller resolve to discard from his design whatever might seem to partake of mar- vellous or supernatural interposition. The appearance of the Cranes is purely accidental. . . . AVhatever is of diviner agency in the punish- ment of crime is found not in the outer circumstances, but in the heart Avithin — the true realm in which the gods work their miracles. As it has been finely said — " The bad conscience (in the Criminal) is its own Nemesis, (he good conscience in the Many — the audience — drags at once the bad before its forum and adjudges it." The historv of the composition of this THE HOSTAGE. 113 Poem affords an instance of the exquisite art of Goethe, to which it is largely indebted. In the first sketch of the ballad, it was only one Cran- that flew over Ibycus at the time he was niurdci'od, and moreover this was only mentioned at the end of the piece. But Goethe suggested the eno lai'gemcnt of this leading incident— into "the long and broad pheno- menon" of the swarm of Cranes, con-esponding in some degi-ee with the long and ample pageant of the Furies. Schiller at once perceived how not only the truthfulness, but the grandeur, of his picture was heightened by this simple alteration. . . . Accoi-ding to Goethe's suggestions, the swarm of Cranes were now introduced as the companions of Ibycus in his voyage. . . . The tine analogy between the human Avanderer and his Avinged companions, each seeking a foreign land, was dimly outlined. . . . And the generous criticism of the one Poet finally gave its present fulness and beauty to the masterpiece of the other. — See Goethe's Correspondence icUh Schiller. Hoffmcister. Heinrkhs. THE HOSTAGE. A BALLAD. The tyrant Dionys to seek, Stern Moerus with his poniard crept; ; The watchful guards upon him swept ; The grim king mark'd his changeless cheek : " What wouldst thou with thy poniard ? Speak ! " " The city from the tyrant free ! " — " The death-cross shall thy guerdon be." *' I am prepared for death, nor pray," Replied that haughty man, " to live ; Enough, if thou one grace will give : For three brief suns the death delay To wed my sister — leagues away ; I boast one friend whose life for mine, If I should fail the cross, is thine." The tyrant mused, — and smil'd, — ^^and said With gloomy craft, " So let it be ; Ihree days I will vouchsafe to thee. But mark — if, when the time be sped, Thou fail'st — thy surety dies instead. His life shall buy thine own release ; Thy guilt atoned, my wrath shall cease." lU POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. He souglit liis friend — " The king's decree Ordains my life the cross upon Shall pay the deed I would have d^ne ; Yet grants three days' delay to me, My sister's marriage-rites to see ; If thou, the hostage, wilt remain Till I — set free — return again ! " His friend embraced — No word he said, But silent to the tyrant strode — The other went upon his road. Ere the third sun in heaven was red. The rite was o'er, the sister wed ; And back, with anxious heart unquailing, He hastes to hold the pledge unfailing. Down the great rains unending bore, Down from the hills the torrents rush*d, In one broad stream the brooklets gush'd. The wanderer halts beside the shore. The bridge was swept the tides before — The shatter'd arches o'er and under Went the tumultuous waves in thunder. Dismay'd, he takes his idle stand — Dismay'd, he strays and shouts around ; His voice awakes no answering sound. No boat will leave the sheltering strand, To bear him to the wish'd-for land ; No boatman will Death's pilot be ; The wild stream gathers to a sea ! Sunk by the banks, awhile he weeps. Then rais'd his arms to Jove, and cried, " Stay thou, oh stay the madd'ning tide ! Midway behold the swift sun sweeps, And, ere he sinks adown the deeps. If I should fail, his beams will see My friend's last anguish — slain for me ! " THE flOSTAGiE. Il5 More fierce it runs, more broad it flows, And wave on wave succeeds and dies — And hour on hour remorseless flies ; Despair at last to daring grows — Amidst the flood his form he throws ; With vigorous arms the roaring waves Cleaves — and a God that pities, saves. He wins the bank — he scours the strand, He thanks the God in breathless prayer ; When from the forest's gloomy lair, With ragged club in ruthless hand. And breathing murder — rush'd the band That find, in w^oods, their savage den, And savage prey in wandering men. " What," cried he, pale with generous fear ; "What think to gain ye by the strife? All I bear with me is my life — I take it to the King ! " — and here He snatch'd the club from him most near : And thrice he smote, and thrice his blows Dealt death — before him fly the foes ! The sun is glowing as a brand ; And faint before the parching heat, The strength forsakes the feeble feet : " Thou has saved me from the robbers' hand. Through wild floods given the blessed land ; And shall the weak limbs fail me now ? And liG — Divine one, nerve me, thou ! Hark ! like some gracious murmur by, Babbles low music, silver-clear — The wanderer holds his breath to hear; And from the rock, before his eye. Laughs forth the spring delightedly ; Now the swet waves he bends him o'er. And the sweet waves his strength restore. I 2 116 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Through, the green boughs the sun gleams dying, O'er fields that drink the rosy beam, The trees' huge shadows giant seem. Two strangers on the road are hieing ; And as they fleet beside him flying, These mutter'd words his ear dismay : "Now — now the cross has claim'd its prey ! " Despair his winged path pursues, The anxious terrors hound him on — There, redd'ning in the evening sun, From far, the domes of Syracuse ! — When towards him comes Philostratus, (His leal and trusty herdsman he,) And to the master bends his knee. *' Back — thou canst aid thy friend no more. The niggard time already flown — His life is forfeit — save thine own ! Hour after hour in hope he bore, Nor might his soul its faith give o'er ; Nor could the tyrant's scorn deriding. Steal from that faith one thought confiding ! " " Too late ! what horror hast thou spoken ! Vain life, since it can not requite him ! But death with me can yet unite him ; No boast the tyrant's scorn shall make — How friend to friend can faith forsake. But from the double-death shall know. That Truth and Love yet live below ! " The sun sinks down — the gate's in view, The cross lorn ismal on the ground — The eager crowd gape murmuring round. His friend is bound the cross unto . . . Crowd — guards — all-bursts he breathless through *' Me ! Doomsman, me ! " he shouts, *' alone ! His life io rescued — lo, mine own ! " THE COMPLAINT OF CERES. 117 Amazement seized the circling ring! Link'd in each other's arms the pair — Weeping for joy — yet anguish there ! Moist every eye that gazed ; — they bring The wond'rons tidings to the king — > His breast Man's licart at last hath known, And the Friends stand before his throne. Long silent, he, and wondering long, Gaz'd. on the Pair — " In peace depart, Victors, ye have subdued my heart ! Truth is no dream ! — its power is strong. Give grace to Him who owns his wrong ! *Tis mine your suppliant now to be. Ah, let the band of Love — be Tiikee ! " This stoiy, the heroes of whicli arc more popularly known to us under the names of Damon and Pythias (or FIi'miiaH), Schiller took from Ilyginus, in whom the friends are called ilfcrus and Selinuntius. Schiller has some- what amplified the incidents in the original^\ in which the delay of !^[oerus is occasioned only by the swollen stream — the other hindrances are of Schiller's invention. The subject, like "The King of Polycrates," does not admit of that rich poetry of desciiption with whicli our author usually adorns some suigle passage in his narratives. The poetic spirit is rather shown in the terse brevity with which picture after picture is not only sketched, but finished — and in the great thovight at the close. Still it is not one of Schiller's best ballads. His additions to the original story are not happy. The incident of the llobbers is commonplace and poor. The delay occasioned by the thirst of Mcorus is clearly open to Goethe's objection, (an objection showing very nice perception of nature) — that extreme thirst was not likely to happen to a man who had lately passed through a stream, on a rainy day, and whose clothes must have been saturated with moisture — nor in the traveller's preoccupied state of mind, is it probable that he would have so much felt the mere physical want. With lesB reason has it been urged by other Critics, that the sudden relenting of the Tyrant is cont rary to his character. The Tyrant here has no individual character at all. I He is the mere personation of Disbelief in Truth and Love — which the spectacle of sublune self-abnegation at once converts. In this idea lies the deep Philosophical Truth, which redeems all the defects of the piece— for Poetry, in its highest form, is merely this—" Truth made beautiful.") THE COMPLAINT OF CERES. It may be scarcely necessary to treat, however briefly, of the mythological leg-end on which this exquisite elegy is founded ; yet we venture to do so rather than that the forgetfulness of the reader should militate against his enjoyment of the poem. Proserpine, according to the Homeride (for the story is not without variations), wkctt gathering flowers with the 118 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Ocean Nymphs, is earned off by Aidoneus, or Pluto. Her mother, Ceres, wanders over the earth for her in vaiu, and refuses to return to Heaven till her daughter is restored to her. Finally, Jupiter commissions Hermes to persuade Pluto to render up his bride, who rejoins Ceres at Eleusis. Unfortunately she has swallowed a pomegranate seed in the Shades below, and is thus mysteriously doomed to spend one-third of the year with her husband in Hades, though for the remainder of the year she IS permitted to dwell with Ceres and the Gods. This is one of the very few mythological fables of Greece which can be safely interpreted into an Allegory. Proserpine denotes the seed corn one-third of the year below the earth ; two-thirds (that is, dating from the appearance of the ear) above it. Schiller has treated this story with admirable and artistic beauty ; and, by an alteration in its symbolical character, has preserved the patlios of the external narrative, and heightened the beauty of the interior meaning — associating the productive principle of the earth with the immortality of the soul. Proserpine here is not the symbol of the buried seed, but the buried seed is the symbol of her — that is, of the Dead. The exquisite feeling of this poem consoled Schiller's friend, Sophia La Eoche, in her grief for her son's death, I. Does pleasant Spring return once more ? Does Earth her happy youth regain ? Sweet suns green hills are shining o'er ; Soft brooklets burst their icy chain : Upon the blue translucent river Laughs down an all-unclouded day, The winged west winds gently quiver, The buds are bursting from the spray ; While birds are blithe on every tree ; The Oread from the mountain- shore Sighs ' Lo thy flowers come back to thcc — Thy Child, sad Mother, comes no more ! ' II. Alas ! how long an age it seems Since all the Earth I wander'd over. And vainly, Titan, task'd thy beams The lov'd — the lost one — to discover ! Though all may seek — yet none can call Her tender presence back to me ! The Sun, with eyes detecting all. Is blind one vanish'd form to see. Hast thou, Zeus, hast thou away From these sad arms my Daughter torn ? Has Pluto, from the realms of Day, Enamour'd — to dark rivers borne ? THE COMPLAINT OF CERE>!. 119 III. Who to the dismal Phantom- Strand The Herald of my Grief will veiitnrc ? The Boat for ever leaves the Land, Bat only Shadows there may enter. — Veil'd from each holier eye repose The realms were Midnight wraps the Dead, And, while the Stygian River flows, No living footstep there may tread ! A thousand pathways wind the drear Descent ; — none upward lead to-day ; — No witness to the Mother's ear The Daughter's sorrows can betray. IV. Mothers of happy Human clay Can share at least their children's doom ; And when the loved ones pass away, Can track — can join them — in the tomb ! The race alone of Heavenly birth Are banish'd from the darksome portals ; The Fates — have mercy on the Earth, And death is only kind to mortals ! * Oh, plunge me in the Night of Nights, From Heaven's ambrosial halls exil'd ! Oh, let the Goddess lose the rights That shut the Mother from the Child ! V. Where sits the Dark King's joyless bride, Where midst the Dead her home is made : Oh that my noiseless steps might glide, Amidst the shades myself a shade ! I see her eyes, that search thro' tears. In vain the golden light to greet ; That yearn for yonder distant spheres, That pine the Mother's face to meet ! Till some bright moment shall renew The severed Hearts' familiar ties ; And softened pity still in dew. From Plato's slow-relenting eyes ! "Whut a beautiful vindication of the shortness of biiman life ! 120 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. VI. Ah, vain tlie wish, the sorrow are ! Calm in the changeless paths above Rolls on the Day- God's golden Car — Fast are the fix'd decrees of Jove ! Far from the ever gloomy Plain, He turns his blissful looks away. Alas ! Night never gives again What once it seizes as its prey ! Till over Lethe's sullen swell, Aurora's rosy hues shall glow ; And arching thro' the midmost Hell Shine forth the lovely Iris-Bow ! VII. And is there nought of Her; — no token — No pledge from that beloved hand ? To tell how Love remains unbroken. How far soever be the land ? Has love no link, no lightest thread, The Mother to the Child to bind ? Between the Living and the Dead, Can Hope no holy compact find ? No ! every bond is not yet riven ; We are not yet divided wholly ; To us the eternal Powers have given A symbol language, sweet and holy. VIII. When Spring's fair children pass away, When, in the North wind's icy air. The leaf and flower alike decay. And leave the rivell'd branches bare, Then from Vertumnus' lavish horn I take Life's seeds to strew below — And bid the gold that germs the corn An offering to the Styx to go ! Sad in the earth the seeds I lay — Laid at thy heart, my Child — to be The mournful tokens which convey My sorrow and my love to Thee ! niE COMPLAINT OF CERES. 121 IX. Bnt, when the Ilonrs, in measured dance, Tlie happy smile of Spring restore, Rife in the Sun-god's golden glance The buried Dead revive once more ! The germs that perish'd to thine eyes, Within the cold breast of the earth, Spring up to bloom in gentler skies, The brighter for the second birth ! The stem its blossom rears above — Its roots in Night's dark womb repose — The plant but by the equal love Of light and darkness fostered — grows ! X. If half with Death the germs may sleep, Yet half with Life they share the beams ; My heralds from the dreary deep. Soft voices from the solemn streams,—^ Like her, so them, awhile entombs, Stern Orcus, in his dismal reign. Yet Spring sends forth their tender blooms With such sweet messages again, To tell, — how far from light above, Where only mournful shadows meet, Memory is still alive to love. And still the faithful Heart can beat ! XI. Joy to ye children of the Field ! Whose life each coming year renews, To your sweet cups the Heaven shall yield The purest of its nectar-dews ! Steep'd in the light's resplendent streams, The hues that streak the Iris-Bow Shall trim your blooms as with the beams The looks of young Aurora know. The budding life of happy Spring, The yellow Autumn's faded leaf, Alike to gentle Hearts shall bring The symbols of my joy and grief. 122 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL. This, originally called the " Burgei'-Lay," is one of the poems Avhich Schiller has devoted to his favourite subject — the Progress of Society. 1. Wind in a garland the ears of gold, Azure Cyanes * inwoven be ! Oil liow gladly shall eye behold The Qneen who comes in her majesty. Man with man in communion mixing, Taming the wild ones where she went ; Into the peace of the homestead fixing - Lawless bosom and shifting tent.f II. Darkly hid in cave and cleft Shy, the Troglodyte abode ; Earth, a waste, was found and left Where the wandering Nomad strode : Deadly with the spear and shaft, Prowd'd the Hunter through the land ; Woe the Stranger, waves may waft On an ever-fatal strand ! III. Thus was all to Ceres, when Searching for her ravish'd child, (No green culture smiling then,) O'er the drear coasts bleak and wild, Never shelter did she gain, Never friendly threshold trod ; All unbuilded then the Fane, All unheeded then the God ! * The corn-flowers. t "This first strophe," ohscrves Hoffmeister, "is opened by the chorus of the whole festive assembly. A smaller chorus, or a single narrator passes then to the recitative^ and traces the progress of mankind through Agriculture." THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL. 123 IV. Not with golden corn-ears strewed Were tlie ghastly altar- stones ; Bleaching there, and gore-embrucd, Lay the nnhallow'd Human bones ! Wide and far, where'er she roved, Still reigned Misery over all ; And her mighty soul was moved At Man's universal fall. V. " What ! can this be Man — to whom Our own godlike form was given — Likeness of the shapes that bloom In the Garden-Mount of Heaven ? Was not Earth on Man bestow'd ? Earth itself his kingly home ! Roams he thro' his bright abode, Homeless wheresoe'er he roam ? VI. " Will no God vouchsafe to aid ? — None of the Celestial choir — Lift the Demigod we made From the slough and from the mire ? No, the grief they ne'er have known, Calmly the Celestials scan ! I — The Mother — I, alone Have a heart that feels for Man ! VII. " Let — that Men to Man may soar — Man and Earth with one another Make a compact evermore — Man the Son, and Earth the Mother. Let their laws the Seasons show. Time itself Man's teacher bo ; And the sweet Moon moving slow To the starry Melody ! " 12.4 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER VIII. Gently brightening from tlie clond, Round lier image, veil-like, thrown ; On the startled savage crowd Lo ! the Groddess-glory shone ! Soft, the Groddess- glory stole On their War-feast o'er the Dead ; Fierce hands offered her the bowl With the blood of foemen red. IX. Loathing, turned the gentle Queen, Loathing, shuddering, turned — and said, " Ne'er a Godhead's lips have been With the food of tigers, fed. Offering pure that ne'er pollutes, Be to purer Beings given. Summer flowers and autumn fruits Please the Family of Heaven." And the wrathful spear she takes From the Hunter's savage hand. With the shaft of Murder, — breaks Into furrows the light sand ; From her spiked wreath she singles Out a golden seed of corn, With the earth the germ she mingles. And the mighty birth is born ! XI. Robing now the rugged ground — Glints the budding lively green, Now — a Golden Forest — round Waves the Mellow Harvest's Sheen !- And the Goddess bless'd the Earth, Bade the earliest sheaf be bound — Chose the landmark for a hearth, And serenely smiling round, THt ELfiUSlNIAN FESTIVAL. 1jJ5 XII. Spoke in prayer—" Father King, On thine Ether-Hill divine — Take, Zeus, this offering, Let it soften Thee to thine ! From thy People's eyesr— away, Koll the vapour coil'd below ; Let the hearts untaught to pray Learn the Father- God to know ! '* XIII. And his gentle Sister's prayer. To the High Olympian came Thundering thro' a cloudless air Flashed the consecrating flame ; — On the holy sacrifice. Bright the wreathed lightning leaps ; And in circles thro' the skies, Jove's good-omened Eagle sweeps. XIV. Low at the feet of the great Queen, low * Fall the crowd in a glad devotion ; First then, first the rude souls know Human channels of sweet emotion — Cast to the Earth is the gory spear, Wakened a soft sense blind before ; Hush'd in delight, from her lips they hear Mildest accents and wisest lore ! XV. Thither from their thrones descending, All the Blest ones brightly draw ; Sceptred Themis, order- blending. Metes the right and gives the law : f * Here the Full chorus chime in again. . . The Art of Husbandry oneo conunenced, the chorus proceed to deduce from it the improvements of all social life.— HoFFMEitiTER. t Property begins >vith the culture of the Earth, Law with Property. 126 POEMS AND BALLAt)S Ot' SCHtLLEU. Teaches each one to respect What his Neighbour's landmarks girth •, Bids attesting Styx protect What the mortal owns on earth. XVI. Hither limps the God, whom all* Life's inventive Arts obey, Highly skill'd is he to call Shape from metal, nse from clay ! Heave the bellows, rings the clamour Of the heavy Anvil, now ; Fashion'd from the Forge- God's hammer O'er the Furrow speeds the Plough ! XVII. And Minerva, towering proudly Over all, with lifted spear, Calls in accents ringing loudly O'er the millions far and near — f Calls the scattered tribes around ; — Soars the rampart — spreads the wall, And the scattered tribes have found Bulwark each, and union all ! XVIII. Forth she leads her lordly train, O'er the wide earth ; — and where'er Prints her conquering step the plain, Springs another Landmark there ! O'er the Hills her empire sweeps ; O'er their heights her chain she throws, Stream that thundered to the deeps Curb'd in green banks, gently flows. XIX. Nymph and Oread, all who follow The fleet-footed Forest-Queen, O'er the hill, or through the hollow ; Swinging light their spears are seen. * Vulcan. Then follow the technical Arts. t Now come the Arts of Polity. THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL. 127 With a merry clamonr trooping, Witli bright axes — one and all Round tLe doomed forest grouping, Down the huge pines crackling fall ! XX. At the hest of J 6ve's high daughter, Heavy load and groaning raft O'er his green reed-margined Water Doth the River G enius waft. In the work, glad hands have found, Hour on hour, light-footed, flies, From the rude trunk, smooth and round, Till the polish'd mast arise ! XXI. • Up leaps now the Ocean God, Riving ribbed Earth asunder ; With his wondrous Trident-rod ; — And the granite falls in thunder. , High he swings the mighty blocks, As an Infant swings a ball — Help'd by active Hermes, rocks Heap'd on rocks — construct the wall.* XXII. Then from golden strings set free (Young Apollo's charmed boon) Triple flows the Harmony, And the Measure, and the Tune ! With their ninefold symphonies There the chiming Mnses throng, Stone on stone the walls arise To the Choral Music-song.f * This refers to the building of Trov. t A felicitous allusion to the Walls of Thebes, built accortling to the fable to the sound of the Muses. 128 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. XXIII. By Oybele's cnnning hand. Set the mighty Portals are ; And the huge Lock's safety-band, And the force-defying Bar. Swift from those divinest hands Does the Wondrous City rise — Bright, amidst, the Temple stands In the pomp of sacrifice. XXIV. With a myrtle garland — there Comes the Queen,* by Gods obey'd, And she leads the Swain most fair To the fairest Shepherd-maid ! Venus and her laughing Boy Did that earliest pair array ; All the Gods, with gifts of joy Bless'd the earliest Marriage Day ! XXV. Thro' the Hospitable Gate Flock the City's newborn sons, Marshall' d in harmonious state By that choir of Holy ones. At the Altar-shrine of Jove High — the Priestess Ceres stands Folding, the mute Crowd above, Blessed and all-blessing hands ! XXVI. In the waste the Beast is free, And the God upon his throne ! Unto each the curb must be But the nature each doth own. Yet the Man — (betwixt the two) Must to man allied, belong ; Only Law and Custom thro' Is the Mortal free and strong ! " * Junoj tho Goddess presiding oyer marriage. PARABLES AND KIDDLES. 129 XXVII. Wind in a garland the ears of gold, Azure Cyancs inwoven be ; Oh how gladly shall eye behold The Queen, who comes in her majesty ! Man to man in communion bringing. Hers are the sweets of Home and Hearth, Honour and praise, and hail her, singing, " Hail to the Mother and Queen of Earth ! '' PARABLES AND RIDDLES. I. From Pearls her lofty bridge she weaves, A grey sea arching proudly over ; A moment's toil the work achieves. And on the height behold her hover ! Beneath that arch securely go The tallest barks that ride the seas, No burthen e'er the bridge may know. And as thou seek'st to near — it flees ! First with the floods it came, to fade As roU'd the waters from the land ; Say where that wondrous arch is made. And whose the Artist's mighty hand ? * II. League after league it hurrieth thee, Yet never quits its place ; It hath no wings wherewith to flee, Yet wafts thee over space ! It is the fleetest boat that e'er The wildest wanderer bore : As swift as thought itself to bear From shore to farthest shore ; 'Tis here and there, and everywhere, Ere yet a moment's o'er ! f * The Eainbow. t The Sight, or perhaps Light. 130 POEMS AND BALLADS OP SCHILLER. III. O'er a mighty pasture go, Slieep in thousands, silver- white ; As to-day we see them, so In the oldest grandsire's sight. They drink (never waxing old) Life from an unfailing brook ; There's a Shepherd to their fold, With a silver-horned crook. From a gate of gold let out, Mght by night he counts them over ; Wide the field they rove about, Never hath he lost a rover ! True the dog, that helps to lead them, One gay eam in front we see ; What the Flock and who doth heed them, Sheep and Shepherd — tell to me ! * IV. There is a Mansion vast and fair, That doth on unseen pillars rest ; No Wanderer leaves the portals there. Yet each how brief a guest ! The craft by which that mansion rose No thought can picture to the soul ; 'Tis lighted by a Lamp which throws Its stately shim.mer through the whole. As crystal clear, it rears aloof The single gem which forms its roof, And never hath the eye survey'd The Master who that Mansion f made. V. Up and down two buckets ply, A single well within ; While the one comes full on high, One the deejDS must win ; Full or empty, never ending, Rising now and now descending, * The Moon and Stars. t The Earth and the rii-mament. PARABLES AND RIDDLES. 131 Always — while you quaff from this, That one lost in the abyss, From that well the waters living Never both together giving.* VI. That gentle picture dost thou know, Itself its hues and splendour gaining ? Some change each moment can bestow, Itself as perfect still remaining ; It lies within the smallest space, The smallest framework forms its girth, And yet that picture can embrace The mightiest objects known on Earth : Canst thou to me that crystal name (No gem can with its worth compare) Which gives all light, and knows no flame ; Absorbed is all creation there ! — That ring can in itself enclose The loveliest hues that light the Heaven, Yet from it light more lovely goes Than all which to it can be given ! f VII. There stands a Building vast and wide, Built in eldest times of yore ; Round it may the Rider ride For a hundred days or more ; And however fast lie speed, Shall the pile outstrip the steed. Many a hundred years have fled, 'Gainst it Time and Storm have striven, Stark and strong it rears its head Underneath the Vault of Heaven ; Soaring here the clouds to meet, There the ocean laves its feet. * Day and Ni^ht. It haa also bucu iutcrprcted as Youth and Age. or Past and Present, t The Eye. K 2 13^ POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE. Not some pageant-pomp to lend Vaunting Pride, or flaunting Power, But to shield and to defend Doth that Mighty Fabric tower. Ne'er its like hath Earth survey 'd, Tho' a mortal hand hath made ! * VIII. Amidst the Serpent Race is one That Earth did never bear ; In speed and fury there be none That can with it compare, — "With fearful hiss — its prey to grasp It darts its dazzling course ; And locks in one destroying clasp The Horseman and the Horse. It loves the loftiest heights to haunt — ISTo bolt its prey secures, In vain its mail may Valour vaunt, For steel its fury lures ! As slightest straw whirl'd by the wind, It snaps the starkest tree j It can the might of metal grind, How hard soe'er it be ! Yet ne'er but once the Monster tries The prey it threats to gain,t In its own wrath consumed it dies, And while it slays is slain. { IX. Six Sisters, from a wondrous pair,§ We take our common birth ; Our solemn Mother — dark as Care, Our Father bright as Mirth, * The Wall of CMua. t " Hat zwei nial iiur gedroht." For nur sliould be read nie. 1 Lightning. ^N Black and White. Here Schiller adopts Goethe's theorj- of colours, and t^upposes that they are formed from the mixture of Light and Darkne.ss,- - PARABLES AND RIDDLES. 133 Its several virtue each bequeathes ; The soften'd shade — the merry glance ; In endless yonth, around you wreathes Our undulating dance ! We shun the darksome hollow cave, And bask where daylight glows ; Our magic life to Nature gave The soul her beauty knows. Blithe messengers of Spring, we lead Her jocund train, — we flee The dreary chambers of the Dead, — Where life is — there are we ! To Happiness essential things, Where Man enjoys we live — Whate'er the Pomp that blazons kings, 'Tis ours the pomp to give ! * X. What's that, the Poor's most precious Friend Nor less by kings respected — Contrived to pierce, contrived to rend, And to the sword connected. It draws no blood, and yet doth wound ; — Makes rich, but ne'er with spoil ; It prints, as Earth it wanders round, A blessing on the soil. Tho' eldest cities it hath built — Bade mightiest kingdoms rise, it Ne'er fired to War, nor roused to guilt : Weal to the states that prize it ! f XI. In a Dwelling of stone I conceal. My existence obscure and asleep ; But forth at the clash of the steel, From my slumber exulting I leap ! i.e., the Cliildrcn of Night and Day. In his earlier poem of "The Artists," the noble image which concludes the Poem is taken from the ditierent theory of Newton. According to the foi-raer theory, the Colours are six in numb(.'i- — according to the latter, seven. — Hoffmeisteu. * The Colours. t The Ploughshare. 181^ POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. At first, all too feeble for strife, As a dwarf I appear to thine eye ; A drop could extingnisli my life — But my wings soon expand to the sky ! Let the might of my Sister * afford Its aid to those wings when unfurl'd. And I grow to a terrible Lord, Whose anger can ravage the world.f XII. Revolving round a Disk I go, One restless journey o'er and over ; The smallest field my wanderings know, Thy hands the space could cover : Yet many a thousand miles are past, In circling round that field so narrow ; My speed outstrips the swiftest blast — The strongest bowman's arrow ! { XIII. It is a Bird — whose swiftness flees. Fast as an Eagle thro' the Air ; It is a Fish — and cleaves the seas, Which ne'er a mightier monster bear : It is an Elephant, whose form Is crowned with a castle-keep ; And now, all like the spider- worm. Spinning its white webs — see it creep ! It hath an iron fang ; and where That fang is grappled hold doth gain, It roots its rock-like footing there, And braves the bafiled Hurricane, § * Viz. :— The Air. t The Shade on the Dial. t Fire. f The Ship. MIGHT OF SONG, 135 THE MIGHT OF SONG. In the two Poems — "The Might of Song" — and that to which, in tlie translation, we have given the paraphrastic title "Honour to Woman" (Wiirde der Frauen), are to be found those ideas which are the well-streams of so much of Schiller's noblest inspiration : — 1st, An intense and reHgious conviction of the lofty character and sublime ends of the true poet. 2nd, A clear sense of what is most lovely in woman, and a chivalrous devotion to the virtues of which he regards her as the Personation and Prototype. It is these two articles in his poetical creed, which constitute Schiller so peculiarly the Poet of Gentlemen — not the gentlemen of convention, but the gentlemen of nature — that Aristocracy of feeling and . sentiment wliich arc the flower of the social world ; chivalrously inclined to whatever is most elevated in Art — chivalrously inclined to whatever is most tender in emotion. The Nobility of the North, which Tacitus saw in its i-ude infancy, has found in Schiller not only the voice of its mature greatness, but the Ideal of its great essentials. A RAm-FLOOD from the Mountain riven, It leaps in thunder forth to-day ; Before its rush the crags are driven, The oaks uprooted whirl'd away ! Awed — yet in awe all wildly gladd'ning, The startled wanderer halts below ; He hears the rock-born waters niadd'ning, Nor wits the source from whence they go, — So, from their high, mysterious Founts, along, Stream on the silenced world the Waves of Song ! Knit with the threads of life, for ever, By those .dread Powers that weave the woof, — Whose art the singer's spell can sever ? Whose breast has mail to music proof ? Lo, to the Bard, a wand of wonder The Herald * of the Gods has given : He sinks the soul the death-realm under. Or lifts it breathless up to heaven — Half sport, half earnest, rocking its devotion Upon the tremulous ladder of emotion. * Hermes. 136 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. As, when in lionrs the least unclonded Portentous, strides upon the scene — Some Fate, before from wisdom shrouded, And awes the startled souls of Men — Before that Stranger from another, Behold how this world's great ones bow Mean joys their idle clamour smother, The mask is vanish'd from the brow — And from Truth's sudden, solemn flag unfurl' d. Fly all the craven Falsehoods of the World ! So, Song — like Fate itself — is given, To scare the idler thoughts away. To raise the Human to the Holy, To wake the Spirit from the Clay ! * One with the Gods the Bard : before him All things unclean and earthly fly — Hush'd are all meaner powers, and o'er him The dark fate swoops unharming by ; And while the Soother's magic measures flow, Smooth'd every wrinkle on the brows of Woe ! •Even as a child, that, after pining For the sweet absent mother — hears Her voice — and, round her neck entwining Young arras, vents all his soul in tears ; — So, by harsh Custom far estranged, Along the glad and guileless track, To childhood's happy home unchanged, The swift song wafts the wanderer back — Snatch'd from the cold and formal world, and presi By the Great Mother to her glowing breast ! * This somewhat obscure, but lofty comparison, by whieli Poetry is likened to some fate that rouses men from the vulgar littleness of sensual joy, levels all ranks for the moment, and appals conventional falsehoods with unlooked-for truth, Schiller had made, though in rugged and somewhat bombastic prose, many years before, — as far back as the tirst appearance of " The Kobbers." HONOUR TO WOMAN. 137 HONOUR TO woma:n'. [Literally " Dignity of Women."] Honour to Woman ! To her ifc is given ' To garden the earth with the roses of Heaven ! All blessed, she linketh the Loves in their choir — In the veil of the Graces her beauty concealing, She tends on each altar that's hallow'd to Feeling, And keeps ever-living the fire ! From the bounds of Truth careering, Man's strong spirit wildly sweeps, With each hasty impulse veering, Down to Passion's troubled deeps. And his heart, contented never, Greeds to grapple with the Far, Chasing his own dream for ever, On through many a distant Star ! Bat Woman with looks that can charm and enchain, Lui'eth back at her beck the wild truant again, By the spell of her presence beguiled — In the home of the Mother her modest abode, And modest the manners by Nature bestow 'd On Nature's most exquisite child ! Bruised and worn, but fiercely breasting. Foe to foe, the angry strife ; Man the Wild One, never resting, Beams along the troubled life ; What he planncth, still pursuing ; Vainly as the Hydra bleeds, Crest the sever'd crest renewing — Wish to wither'd wish succeeds. But Woman at peace with all being, reposes, And seeks from the Moment to gather the roses — Whose sweets to her culture belong. Ah ! richer than he, though his soul reigneth o'er The mighty dominion of Genius and Lore, And the infinite Circle of Song. 138 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Strong, and proud, and self-depending, Man's cold bosom beats alone ; Heart witk heart divinely blending. In the love that Gods have known, Souls' sweet interchange of feeling, Melting tears — he never knows, Each hard sense the hard one steeling, Arms against a world of foes. Alive, as the wind-harp, how lightly soever If woo'd by the Zephyr, to music will quiver, Is Woman to Hope and to Fear ; Ah, tender one ! still at the shadow of grieving, How quiver the chords — how thy bosom is heaving — How trembles thy glance through the tear ! Man's dominion, war and labour ; Might to right the Statute gave ; Laws are in the Scythian's sabre ; - Where the Mede reign'd — see the Slave ! Peace and Meekness grimly routing, Prowls the War-lust, rude and wild ; Eris rages, hoarsely shouting. Where the vanish' d Graces smiled. But Woman, the Soft One, persuasively prayeth — Of the life'"* that s^he charmeth, the sceptre she swayeth ; She lulls, as she looks from above, The Discord whose Hell for its victims is gaping, And blending awhile the for-ever escaping. Whispers Hate to the Image of Love ! THE WORDS OP BELIEF. Three Words will I name thee — around and about, From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee ; But they had not their birth in the being without, And the heart, not the lip, must their oracle be ! And all worth in the man shall for ever be o'er When in those Three Words he believes no more. * Literally, " the Manners." The French word mceurs corresponds best with the German. THE WORDS OF ERROR. 139 Man is made free ! — Man, by birthright is free, Though the tyrant may deem him but born for his tool. Whatever the shout of the rabble may be — Whatever the ranting misuse of the fool — Still fear not the Slave, when he breaks from his chain, For the Man made a Freeman grows safe in his gain. And Virtue is more than a shade or a sound, And Man may her voice, in this being, obey ; And though ever he slip on the stony ground. Yet ever again to the godlike way, To the scie7icG of Good though the Wise may be blind. Yet the practice is plain to the childlike mind. (^ And a God there is ! — over Space, over Time, While the Human Will rocks, like a reed, to and fro. Lives the Will of the Holy — A Purpose Sublime, A Thought woven over creation below ; Changing and shifting the All we inherit. But changeless through all One Immutable Spirit ! Hold fast the Three Words of Belief — though about From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee ; Yet they take not their birth from the being without — But a voice from within must their oracle be ; And never all worth in the Man can be o'er, Till in those Three Words he believes no more. THE WORDS OF ERROR. Theee Errors there are, that for ever are found On the lips of the good, on the lips of the best ; But empty their meaning and hollow their sound — And slight is the comfort they bring to the breast. The fruits of existence escape from the clasp Of the seeker who strives but those shadows to grasp — So long as Man dreams of some Age in this life When the Right and the Good will all evil subdue ; For the Right and the Good lead us ever to strife, And wherever they lead us, the Fiend will pursue. 140 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SOHILLEPi. And (till from tlio earth borne, and stifled at length) The earth that he touches still gifts him with strength ! So long as Man fancies that Fortmie will live, Like a bride with her lover, united with Worth ; For her favours, alas ! to the mean she will give — • And Virtue possesses no title to earth! That Foreigner wanders to regions afar, Where the lands of her birthright immortally are ! So long as Man dreams that, to mortals a gift, The Truth in her fulness of splendour will shine ; The veil of the goddess no earth-born may lift, And all we can learn is — to guess and divine ! Dost thou seek, in a dogma, to prison her form ? The spirit flies forth on the wings of the storm ! 0, Noble Soul ! fly from delusions like these, More heavenly belief be it thine to adore ; Where the Ear never hearkens, the Eye never sees, Meet the rivers of Beauty and Truth evermore ! Not luithout thee the streams — there the Dull seek them : No! Look witliin thee— behold both the fount and the flow ! THE MERCHANT. Where sails the ship ? — It leads the Tyriau forth For the rich amber of the liberal North. Be kind ye seas — winds lend your gentlest wing, May in each creek, sweet wells restoring sjDring ! — To you, ye gods, belong the Merchant ! — o'er The waves, his sails the wide world's goods explore ; And, all the while, wherever waft the gales. The wide world's good sails with him as he sails ! * This simile is nobly conceived, but expressed somewhat obscurely. As Hercules contended in vain against Antasus, the Son of Earth, — so long as the Earth gave her giant offspring new strength in every fall, — so the soul contends in vain with evil — the natural earth-born enemy, while the very contact of the earth invigorates the enemy for the struggle. And as Antiuus was slain at last, Avhen Hercules lifted him from the earth, and strangled him wliile raised aloft, so can the soul slay the enemy (the desire, the pas- sion, the evil, the earth's offspring), when bearLng it from earth itself, and stifling it in the higher air. THE WALK. 141 THE GERMAN AllT. By no kind Augustus reared, To no Medici endeared, German Art arose ; Fostering glory smil'd not on lier, Ne'er with kingly smiles to sun her, Did her blooms unclose. No, — she went by Monarchs slightcd- Went unhonoured, unrequited. From high Frederick's throne ; Praise and Pride be all the greater, That Man's genius did create her, From Man's worth alone. Therefore, all from loftier mountains, Purer wells and richer Fountains, Streams our Poet- Art ; So no rule to curb its rushing — All the fuller flows it gushing From its deep — The Heart ! THE WALK. This (excepting only "The Artists," written some years before) is the most elabonitc of tliose Poems Avliicli, classed under the name of Ctdture- Jiistonc, Schiller has devoted to the Progress of Civilisation. Schiller him- self esteemed it amongst the greatest of the Poems he had thitherto pro- duced—and his friends, froni Goethe to Humboldt, however divided in opinion as to the relative merit of his other pieces, agreed in extolling this one. It must be observed, however, that Schiller had not then composed the narrative poems, which bear the name of Ballads, and which are con- fessedly of a yet higher order— inasmuch as the Narrative, in itself, demands much higher merits than tlio Didactic* It is also reasonably to be objected to all Schiller's Poems of this Culture-Historic School (may wc be pardoned the use of the German Barbarism), that the leading idea of the Progress of Civilisation, however varied as to form in each, is essentially repeated in all. Nor can we omit this occasion of inculcating one critical Doctrine, which seems to us highly important, and to which the theories of Schiller's intimate and ovcr-reilning friend, William Von Humboldt, were strongly opposed. The object of Poetry, differing essentially from that of abstract wisdom, is not directly to address the Eeasoniug faculty— but * Schiller perhaps disclaimed the title of Didactic for this Poem, as *'Thc Ai-tists" — yet Didactic both Poems unquestionably are. for 14S POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. insensibly to rouse it through the popular medium of the emotions. Science aims at Truth, and through Truth may arrive at Beauty. Poetry or Art aims at Beauty, and through Beauty it cannot fail to arrive at Truth. The fault of "The Walk," of "The Artists,"— more than all of "The Ideal and the Actual Life," not to specify some other Poems, less elaborately scholastic — is, that they strain too much the faculty with which Poetry has least to do, viz., the mere Reason. Poetry ought, it is true, to bear aloft and to sustain the mind in a state of elevation — but through the sentiment or the passion. It fails in something when it demands a high degree of philosophy or knowledge in the reader to admire — nay to comprehend it. It ought not to ask a prepared Audience, but to raise any audience it may- address. Milton takes the sublimest theme he can find— he adorns it with all his stately genius, and his multiform learning ; but, except in two or three passages (which are really defects in his great whole), he contrives to keep within reach of very ordinary understandings. Because the Poet is wise, he is not for that reason to demand wisdom from his readers. In the Poem of " The Walk," it is only after repeated readings that we can arrive at what seems to us its great and distinctive pui'pose — apart from the mere recital of the changes of the Social State. According to our notion, the purpose is this — the intimate and necessary connexion between Man and ISature— the Social State and the Natural. The Poet commences with the actual Landscape, he describes the scenery of his walk : Rural Life, viz.— Nature in the Fields — suggests to him the picture of the Early Pelasgian or Agricultural life — Nature is then the Companion of Man. A sudden turn in the Landscape shows him the popular avenues which in Germany conduct to cities. He beholds the domes and towers of the distant Town — and this suggests to liim the alteration from the rural life to the civic — still Nature is his guide. But in cities Man has ceased to be the companion of Nature — he has become her Euler (der Herrscher). In this altered condition the Poet depicts the growth of Civilisation, till he arrives at the Invention of Printing. Light then breaks upon the Blind — Man desires not only to be Lord of Nature, but to dispense with her. "Instead of Necessity and Nature he would appoint Liberty and Reason." Reason shouts for Liberty — so do the Passions, and both burst from the wholesome control of Nature. He then reviews the corruption of Civilisation under the old French Regime ; he likens Man, breaking from this denaturalised state, to the tiger escaping from its den into the wilderness ; and suggests the great truth, that it is only by a return to Nature, that ho can regain his true liberty and re- demption. Not, indeed (as Hoffmeistcr truly observes), the savage Nature to which Rousseau would reduce Man — that, Schiller was too wise to dream of— and too virtuous to desire; but that Nature which has not more its generous liberty than its holy laws — that Nature which is but the Avord for Law — God's Law. He would not lead Man back to Nature in its infancy, but advance him to Nature in its perfection. The moral Liberty of a well- ordered condition of society is as diflferent from the physical liberty lusted after by the French Revolutionists, as (to bon-ow Cowley's fine thought) *'tlie solitude of a God from the solitude of a wild beast." And finally, after this general association of Nature with Mankind, the Poet awakens as from a dream, to find hmiself individually alone with Nature, and concludes, in some of the happiest lines he ever wrote, by insisting on that eternal youthfulness of Nature, which links itself with its companion Poetry. "The Sun of Homer smiles upon us still." In the original German, the Poem is composed in the long rhymeless metre, which no one has succeeded, or can succeed, in rendering into English melody. But happily, thevtruc beauty of the composition, like most of Schiller's (unlike most of Goethe's), is independent of form /—consisting of ideas, not easily deprived of their effect, into what mould soever they may be thrown. ... In the above THE WALK. 143 remarks we have sought to remove the only drawback the general reader may find, to the pleasure to be derived from the Poem in the original — to lighten the weight upon his intellect, and define the purpose of the design. As to execution, even in translation, the sense of beauty must be dull in those who cannot perceive the exquisite merits of the prelimin- ary description — the rapid vigour with which what Herder called "the ^V orld of Scenes," sliifts and slummers, and the grand divisions of Human History are seized and outlined — and the noble reflections which, after losing himself in the large interests of the multitude. Solitude forces upon the Poet at the close. Hail, mine own hill — ye bright'ning hill-tops, hail ! Hail, sun, that gild'st them with thy looks of love ! Sweet fields ! — ye lindens, murmuring to the gale ! And ye gay choristers the boughs above ! And thou, the Blue Immeasurable Calm, O'er mount and forest, motionless and bright, — Thine airs breathe through me their reviving balm, And the heart strengthens as it drinks thy light ! Thou gracious Heaven ! man's prison-home I flee — Loosed from the babbling world, my soul leaps up to thee ! Flowers of all hue are struggling into glow, Along the blooming fields ; yet their sweet strife Melts into one harmonious concord. Lo, The path allures me through the pastoral green, And the wide world of fields ! — The labouring bee Hums round me ; and on hesitating wing O'er beds of purple clover quiveringly Hovers the butterfly. — Save these, all life Sleeps in the glowing sunlight's steady sheen — Ev'n from the west, no breeze the lull'd airs bring. Hark — in the calm aloft, I hear the skylark sing ! The thicket rustles near — the alders bow Down their green coronals — and as I pass, Waves, in the rising wind, the silvering grass. Come, day's ambrosial night ! — receive me now Beneath the roof by shadowy beeches made. Cool- breathing ! Lost the gentler landscape's bloom ! And as the path mounts, snake-like, through the shade, Deep woods close round me with mysterious gloom ; Still, through the trellice-leaves, at stolen whiles, Glints the stray beam, or the meek azure smiles. Again, and yet again, the veil is riven — 144 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. And tlie glade opening, with a sudden glare, Lets in the blinding day ! Before me, heaven With aU its Far- Unbounded ! — one bine hill Ending the gradual world — in vapour ! Where I stand upon the mountain- summit, lo, As sink its sides precipitous before me, The stream's smooth waves in flying crystal flow Through the calm vale beneath. Wide Ether o'er me — Beneath, alike, wide Ether endless still ! Dizzy, I gaze aloft — shuddering, I look below ! — A railed path betwixt the eternal height — And the eternal deep allures me on. Still, as I pass — all laughing in delight, The rich shores glide along ; and in glad toil, Glories the pranksome vale with variegated soil. Each feature that divides what labour's son Claims for his portion from his labouring brother ; — ■ Broidering the veil wrought by the Mighty Mother.* Hedge-row and bound — those friendly scrolls of law, — Law, Man's sole guardian ever since the time When the old Brazen Age, in sadness saw Love fly the world ! Now, through the harmonious meads, One glimmering path, or lost in forests, leads. Or up the winding hill doth labouring climb — The highway link of lands dissever'd — glide The quiet rafts adown the placid tide ; And through the lively fields, heard faintly, goes The many sheep-bells' music — and the song Of the lone herdsman, from its vex'd repose, Rouses the gentle echo ! — Calm, along The stream, gay hamlets crown the pastoral scene, Or peep through distant glades, or from the hill Hang dizzy down ! Man and the soil serene Dwell neighbour- like together — and the still Meadow sleeps peaceful round the rural door — And, all-familiar, wreathes and clusters o'er The lowly casement, the green bough's embrace, As with a loving arm, clasping the gentle place ! • Dcmotcr. THE WALK. 145 liappy People of the Fields, not yet Wakcn'd to freedom from the gentle will Of the wild Natm^e, still content to share With your own fields earth's elementary law ! Calm harvests to calm hopes the boundary set, And peaceful as your daily labour, there, Creep on your careless lives ! * But ah ! what steals Between me and the scenes I lately saw — A stranger spirit a strange world reveals, A world with method, ranks, and orders rife — And rends the simple unity of life. The vista'd Poplars in their long array The measured pomp of social forms betray. That stately train proclaims the Ruler nigh ; And now the bright domes glitter to the sky, And now from out the rocky kernel flowers The haughty City, with its thousand towers ! Yet though the Fauns t back to their wilds have flown, Devotion lends them loftier life in stone. Man with his fellow-man more closely bound — The world without begirts and cramps him round ; But in that world within the widening soul, The unpausing wheels in swifter orbits roll. See how the iron powers of thoughtful skill Are shaped and quicken'd by the fire of strife ; Through contest great — through union greater still. To thousand hands a single soul gives life — In thousand breasts a single heart is beating — Beats for the country of the common cause — Beats for the old hereditary laws — The earth itself made dearer by the dead — And by the gods (whom mortal steps are meeting), Come from their heaven, large gifts on men to shed. Ceres, the plough — the anchor. Mercury — Bacchus, the grape — the Sovereign of the sea, * Here the Poet (after a slight and passing association of Man's more pri- mitive state with the rux'al landscape hoforc hiin) catches sight of the dis- tant city ; and, proceeding to idealise what ho thus surveys, brings before the reader, in a series of striking and rapid images, the progressive changes of Civilisation.— See Pkeliminary Hemarks. t The Fauns here are meant generally to denote all the cai-ly rural gods — the primitive Deities of Italy, It 146 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. The horse ; — the olive brings the Blue-eyed Maid — While tower*d Cybele yokes her lion- car, Entering in peace the hospitable gate — A Goddess-Citizen ! All-blest ye are, Ye Solemn Monuments ! ye men and times That did from shore to shore, and state to state, Transplant the beauty of humanity ! Forth send far islands, from the gentler climes, Their goodly freight — the manners and the arts. In simple courts the Patriarchal Wise By social Gates adjudge the unpurchased right.* To deathless fields the ardent hero flies, To guard the hearths that sanctify the fight ; And women from the walls, with anxious hearts Beating beneath the infants nestled there, Watch the devoted band, till from their eyes, In the far space, the steel-clad pageant dies — Then, falling by the altars, pour the prayer, Fit for the gods to hear — that worth may earn The fame which crowns brave souls that conquer, and- return ! And fame was yours and conquest ! — ^yet alone Fame — and not life return'd : your deeds are known In words that kindle glory from the stone. " Tell Sparta, we, whose record meets thine eye, Obey'd the Spartan laws — and here we lie ! " f Sleep soft ! — your blood bedews the Olive's bloom, Peace sows its harvests in the Patriot's tomb, Anjd Trade's great intercourse at once is known Where Freedom guards what Labour makes its own. The azure River- God his watery fields Lends to the raft ; — her home the Dryad yields. Down falls the huge oak with a thunder-groan ; Wing'd by the lever soars the quickening stone ; Up from the shaft the diving Miner brings The metal-mass with which the anvil rings, * Alluding to the ancient c^^stom^Df administering Law in the open places near the to^vn gates. t Herodotus. The celebrated epitaph on the Spartan tumulus at Thermopyla). THE WALK. 147 Anvil and hammer keeping measured time As the steel sparkles with each heavy chime :— The bright web round the dancing spindle gleams ; Safe guides the Pilot, through the world of streams, The ships that interchange, where'er they roam, The wealth of earth — the industry of home ; High from the mast the garland- banner wavc^, The Sail bears life upon the wind it braves ; Life grows and multiplies where life resorts, Life crowds the Masts — life bustles through the Ports, And many a language the broad streets within Blends on the wondering Ear the Babel and the din. And all the harvests of all earth, whate'cr Hot Afric nurtures in its lurid air, Or Araby, the blest one of the Wild, Or the Sea's lonely and abandoned child Uttermost Thule, — to one mart are borne, And the rich plenty brims starr'd Amalthcea's horn. The nobler Genius prospers with the rest : Art draws its aliment from Freedom's breast ; Flush'd into life, the pictured Image breaks, Waked by the chisel, Stone takes soul and speaks ! On slender Shafts a Heaven of Art reposes, And all Olympus one bright Dome encloses. Light as aloft we see the Iris spring, Light as the arrow flying from the string, O'er the wide river, rushing to the Deep, The lithe bridge boundeth with its airy leap. But all the while, best pleased apart to dwell, Sits musing Science in its noiseless cell ; Draws meaning circles, and with patient mind Steals to the Spirit that the whole design'd. Gropes through the Realm of Matter for its Laws, Learns where the Magnet or repels or draws, Follows the sound along the air, and flies After the lightning through the pathless skies. Seeks through dark Chance's wonder- teeming maze The Guiding Law which regulates and sways. Seeks through the shifting evanescent shows The Central Principle's serene repose. L 2 148 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Now shape and voice — tlie immaterial Thought Takes from th' Invented speaking page sublime ; The Ark which Mind has for its refuge wrought, Its floating Archive down the floods of Time ! Rent from the startled gaze the veil of Night, O'er old delusions streams the dawning light : — Man breaks his bonds — ah, blest could he refrain, Free from the curb, to scorn alike the rein ! " Freedom ! " shouts Reason, " Freedom ! " wild Desire — And light to Wisdom is to Passion fire. From Nature's check bursts forth one hurtling swarm — Ah, snaps the anchor, as descends the storm ! The sea runs mountains — vanishes the shore, The mastless wreck drifts endless ocean o'er ; Lost, — Faith^man's polar Star ! — nought seems to rest. The Heart's God, Conscience, darkens from the breast — Yet first the foulness of the slough discern, ) From which to Freedom Nature seeks return * J Gone Truth from language, and from life, belief ; The oath itself rots blighted to a lie. On love's most solemn secrets, on the grief Or joy that knits the Heart's familiar tie — Intrudes the Sycophant, and glares the spy. Suspected friendship from the soul is rent. The hungry treason snares the Innocent — With rabid slaver, and devouring fangs. Fast on his prey the foul blasphemer hangs — Shame from the reason and the heart effac'd. The thought is abject, and the love debas'd : Deceit — O Truth, thy holy features steals — Watches emotion in its candid course — Betrays what Mirth unconsciously reveals. And desecrates Man's nature at its source ; And yet the Tribune justice can debate — And yet the Cot of tranquil Union prate-^ * The two lines in brackets are, after much hesitation, interpolated by the Translator, in order to maintain the sense, otherwise obscured, if not lost, by the abruptness of the transition. Schiller has already glanced at the French Eevolution, but he now goes back to the time preceding it, and thp following lines portray the corruption of the old regime. THE WALK. 149 And yet a spectre which they call the Law, Stands by the Kingly throne, the crowd to awe ! For years — for centuries, may the Mummies there, Mock the warm life whose lying shape they wear. Till Nature once more from her sleep awakes — Till to the dust the hollow fabric shakes Beneath your hands — Avenging Powers sublime, Your heavy iron hands, Necessity and Time ! Then, as some Tigress from the grated bar, Bursts sudden, mindful of her wastes afar. Deep in Numidian glooms — Humanity, Fierce in the wrath of wretchedness and crime, Forth from the City's blazing ashes breaks. And the lost Nature it has pined for seeks. Open ye walls and let the prisoner free ! — Safe to forsaken fields, back let the wild one flee ! But where am I — and whither would I stray ? The path is lost — the cloud-capt mountain-dome. The rent abysses, to the dizzy sense. Behind, before me ! Far and far away. Garden and hedgerow, the sweet Company Of Fields, familiar speaking of man's home — Yea, every trace of man — lie hidden from the eye. Only the raw eternal Matter, whence Life buds, towers round me — the grey basalt-stone, Virgin of human art, stands motionless and lone. Roaringly, through the rocky cleft, and under Gnarl'd roots of trees, the torrent sweeps in thunder — Savage the scene, and desolate and bare — Lo ! where the eagle, his calm wings unfurl'd. Lone-halting in the solitary air, Knits * to the vault of heaven this ball — the world ! No plumed wind bears o'er the Da3dal soil One breath of man's desire, and care, and toil. Am I indeed alone, amidst thy charms, O Nature — clasped once more within thine arms ? — * Knits— Kniipft. Whut a sublime image is conveyed in that single ■word ! 150 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE. I dreamed — and wake upon thy heart ! — escaped From the dark phantoms which my Fancy shaped; And sinks each shape of human strife and woe Down with the vapours to the vale below ! Purer I take my life from thy pure shrine, Sweet Nature ! — gladlier comes again to me The heart and hope of my lost youth divine ! Both end and means, eternally our will Varies and changes, and our acts are still The repetitions, multiplied and stale, Of what have been before us. But with Thee One ancient law, that will not wane or fail, Keeps beauty vernal in the bloom of truth ! Ever the same, thou hoardest for the man What to thy hands the infant or the youth Trusted familiar ; and since Time began, Thy breasts have nurtured, with impartial love, The many-changing ages ! Look above. Around, below ; — beneath the self-same blue, Over the self-same green, eternally, (Let man's slight changes wither as they will,) All races which the wide world ever knew, United, wander brother-like ! — Ah ! see. The sun of Homee smiles upon us still ! THE LAY OF THE BELL. " Vivos voco — Mortuos plango — Fulgura frango." * Fast, in its prison- walls of earth, Awaits the mould of baked clay. Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth — The Bell that shall be born to-day ! * "I call the living— I mourn tlie Dead— I break the Lightning." Tlicso words are inscribed on the Great licll of the Minster of Schafihausen — also on that of the Church of Art near Lucerne. There was an old belief in Switzerland, that the undulation of air, caused by the sound of a Loll, broke the electric fluid of a thunder-cloud. THE LAY OF THE BELL. 151 Who would honour obtain, With the sweat and the pain, The praise that Man gives to the Master must buy ! — But the blessing withal must descend from on high ! And well an earnest word beseems The work the earnest hand prepares ; Its load more light the labour deems, When sweet discourse the labour shares. So let us ponder — nor in vain — What strength can work when labour wills ; For who would not the fool disdain Who ne'er designs what he fulfils ? And well it stamps our Human Race, And hence the gift To Understand, That Man, within the heart should trace Whate'er he fashions with the hand. From the fir the fagot take. Keep it, heap it hard and dry, That the gather'd flame may break Through the furnace, wroth and high. When the copper within Seethes and simmers — the tin, Pour quick, that the fluid that feeds the Bell May flow in the right course glib and well. Deep hid within this nether cell, What force with Fire is moulding thus, In yonder airy tower shall dwell, And witness wide and far of us ! It shall, in later days, unfailing. Rouse many an ear to rapt emotion ; Its solemn voice with Sorrow wailing, Or choral chiming to Devotion. Whatever Fate to Man may bring. Whatever weal or woe befall, That metal tongue shall backward ring The warning moral drawn from all. 152 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. III. See the silvery bubbles spring ! Good ! the mass is melting now ! Let the salts we duly bring Purge the flood, and speed the flow. From the dross and the scum, Pure, the fusion must come ; For perfect and pure we the metal must keep, That its voice may be perfect, and pure, and deep. That voice, with merry music rife, The cherish'd child shall welcome in ; What time the rosy dreams of life. In the first slumber's arms begin. As yet in Time's dark womb unwarning. Repose the days, or foul or fair ; And watchful o'er that golden morning, The Mother-Love's untiring care ! And swift the years like arrows fly — No more with girls content to play, Bounds the proud Boy upon his way. Storms through loud life's tumultuous pleasures, With pilgrim staS the wide world measures j And, wearied with the wish to roam. Again seeks, stranger-like, the Father-Home. And, lo, as some sweet vision breaks Out from its native morning skies. With rosy shame on downcast cheeks. The Virgin stands before his eyes. A nameless longing seizes him ! From all his wild companions flown ; Tears, strange till then, his eyes bedim ; He wanders all alone. Blushing, he glides where'er she move ; Her greeting can transport him ; To every mead to deck his love, The happy wild flowers court him ! Sweet Hope — and tender Longing — ye The growth of Life's first Age of Gold When the heart, swelling, seems to sec The gates of heaven unfold ! THE LAY OF THE BELL. 155 O Love, the beautiful and brief ! prime, Glory, and verdure, of life's summer time ! IV. Browning o'er, the pipes are simmering, Dip this wand of clay * within ; If like glass the wand be glimmering, Then the casting may begin. Brisk, brisk now, and see If the fusion flow free ; If — (happy and welcome indeed were the sign !) If the hard and the ductile united combine. For still where the strong is betrothed to the weak, And the stern in sweet marriage is blent with the meek. Rings the concord harmonious, both tender and strong : So be it with thee, if for ever united. The heart to the heart flows in one, love-delighted ; Illusion is brief, but Repentance is long. Lovely, thither are they bringing, With her virgin wreath, the Bride ! To the love-feast clearly ringing, Tolls the church-bell far and wide ! With that sweetest holyday, Must the May of Life depart ; With the cestus loosed — away Flies Illusion from the heart ! Yet love lingers lonely, When Passion is mute, And the blossoms may only Give way to the fruit. The Husband must enter The hostile life. With struggle and strife, To plant or to watch. To snare or to snatch, To pray and importune. Must wager and venture And hunt down his fortune ! * A piece of clay pipe, wliich becomes vitrified if the metul is sufficiently heated. 152 POEMS AND BALLADS OP SCHILLER. Then flows in a current the gear and the gain, And the garners are fill'd with the gold of the grain, Now a yard to the court, now a wing to the centre ! Within sits Another, The thrifty Housewife ; The mild one, the mother — Her home is her life. In its circle she rules, And the daughters she schools, And she cautions the boys, With a bustling command. And a diligent hand Employ'd she employs ; Gives order to store. And the much makes the more ; Locks the chest and the wardrobe, with lavender smelling. And the hum of the spindle goes quick through tho dwelling ; And she hoards in the presses, well polish'd and full, The snow of the linen, the shine of the wool ; Blends the sweet with the good, and from care and en- deavour Rests never ! Blithe the Master (where the while From his roof he sees them smile) Eyes the lands, and counts the gain ; There, the beams projecting far. And the laden store-house are. And the granaries bow'd beneath The blessed golden grain ; There, in undulating motion. Wave the corn-fields like an ocean. Proud the boast the proud liiDS breathe : — ■ " My house is built upon a rock. And sees unmoved the stormy shock Of waves that fret below ! " What chain so strong, what girth so great, To bind the giant form of Fate ? — Swift are the steps of Woe. THE LAY OF THE BELL. 155 Now tlic casting may begin ; See the breach indented there : Ere we run the fusion in, Halt — and speed the pious prayer ! Pull the bung out — See around and abont What vapour, what vapour — God help us ! — has risen ?- Ha ! the flame like a torrent leaps forth, from its prison What friend is like the might of fire When man can watch and wield the Ire ? Whatever we shape or work, we owe Still to that heaven-descended glow. But dread the heaven-descended glow. When from their chain its wild wings go. When, where it listeth, wide and wild Sweeps the free Nature's free-born Child I When the Frantic One fleets, While no force can withstand, Through the populous streets Whirling ghastly the brand ; For the Element hates What Man's labour creates. And the work of his hand ! Impartially out from the cloud, Or the curse or the blessing may fall ! Benignantly out from the cloud. Come the dews, the revivers of all ! Avcngingly out from the cloud Come the levin, the bolt, and the ball ! Hark — a wail from the steeple ! — aloud The bell shrills its voice to the crowd ! Look — look — red as blood All on high ! It is not the daylight that fills with its flocd The sky ! What a clamour awaking Roars up through the street, What a hell-vapour breaking Rolls on through the street, 156 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE. And higher and higher Aloft moves the Column of Fire ! Through the vistas and rows Like a whirlwind it goes, And the air like the steam from a furnace glows. Beams are crackling — posts are shrinking Walls are sinking — windows clinking — Children crying — Mothers flying — And the beast (the black ruin yet smouldering under) Yells the howl of its pain and its ghastly wonder ! Hurry and skurry — away — away, The face of the night is as clear as day ! As the links in a chain. Again and again Flies the bucket from hand to hand ; High in arches up-rushing The engines are gushing, And the flood, as a beast on the prey that it hounds, With a roar on the breast of the element bounds. To the grain and the fruits, Through the rafters and beams. Through the barns and the garners it crackles and streams ! As if they would rend up the earth from its roots. Rush the flames to the sky Giant-high ; And at length. Wearied out and despairing, man bows to their strength ! With an idle gaze sees their wrath consume, And submits to his doom ! Desolate The place, and dread For storms the barren bed. In the blank voids that cheerful casements W6re, Comes to and fro the melancholy air, And sits despair ; And through the ruin, blackening in its shroud Peers, as it flits, the melancholy cloud. One human glance of grief upon the grave Of all that Fortune gave THE LAY OF THE BELL. 157 The loiterer takes — Then turns him to depart, And grasps the wanderer's staff and mans his heart: Whatever else the element bereaves One blessing more than all it reft — it leaves, The faces that he loves ! — He counts them o'er, See — not one look is missing from that store ! VI. Now clasp 'd the bell within the clay — The mould the mingled metals fill — Oh, may it, sparkling into day, Reward the labour and the skill ! Alas ! should it fail. For the mould may be frail — And still with our hope must be mingled the fear — And, ev'n now, while we speak, the mishap may be near ! To the dark womb of sr^cred earth This labour of our hands is given, As seeds that wait the second birth. And turn to blcssing-s watch'd by heaven ! Ah seeds, how dearer far than they We bury in the dismal tomb. Where Hope and Sorrow bend to pray That suns beyond the realm of day May warm them into bloom ! From the steeple Tolls the bell, Deep and heavy. The death-knell ! Guiding with du-ge-note — solemn, sad, and slow. To the last home earth's weary wanderers know. It is that worship'd wife — It is that faithful mother ! * Whom the dark Prince of Shadows leads benighted, From that dear arm where oft she hung delighted. Far from those blithe companions, born Of her, and blooming in their morn ; * The translator adheres to the original, in forsaking the rhynie in these lines and some othei-s. 158 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. ' On wliora, wlien coiicli'd her heart above, / So often look'd the Mother-Love ! / Ah ! rent the sweet Home's union- bstnd, And never, never more to come — ■ She dwells within the shadowy land, Who was the Mother of that Home ! How oft they miss that tender guide, The care — the watch — the face — the Mother - And where she sate the babes beside, Sits with unloving looks — Another ! VII. While the mass is cooling now, Let the labour yield to leisure. As the bird upon the bough, Loose the travail to the pleasure. When the soft stars awaken, Each task be forsaken ! And the vesper-bell lulling the earth into peace, If the master still toil, chimes the workman's release ! Homeward from the tasks of day. Thro' the greenwood's welcome way Wends the wanderer, blithe and cheerly, To the cottage loved so dearly ! And the eye and ear are meeting, Now, the slow sheep homeward bleating — Now, the wonted shelter near. Lowing the lusty-fronted steer ; Creaking now the heavy wain. Reels with the happy harvest grain. While, with many-coloured leaves. Glitters the garland on the sheaves ; For the mower's work is done. And the young folks' dance begun ! Desert street, and quiet mart ; — Silence is in the city's heart ; And the social taper lighteth Each dear face that Home uniteth ; While the gate the town before Heavily swings with sullen roar ! THE LAY OF THE BELL. 159 Thougli darkness is spreading O'er earth — the Upright And tlie Honest, undreading, Look safe on the night — Which the evil man watches in awe, For the eyg of the Night is the Law ! Bliss-dower'd ! daughter of the skies. Hail, holy Order, whose employ Blends like to like in light and joy — Builder of cities, who of old ___,---' Call'd the wild man from waste and wold. And, in his hut thy presence stealing. Roused each familiar household feeling ; And, best of all the happy ties, The centre of the social band, — The Instinct of the Fatherland ! United thus — each helping each, Brisk work the countless hands for ever ; For nought its power to Strength can teach, Like Emulation and Endeavour ! Thus link'd the master with the man, Each in his rights can each revere, And while they march in freedom's van, Scorn the lewd rout that dogs the rear ! To freemen labour is renown ! Who works — gives blessings and commands; Kings glory in the orb and crown — Be ours the glory of our hands. Long in these walls — long may we greet Your footfalls. Peace and Concord sweet ! Distant the day. Oh ! distant far, When the rude hordes of trampling War Shall scare the silent vale ; And where, Now the sweet heaven, when day doth leave The air. Limns its soft rose-hues on the veil of Eve ; Shall the fierce war-brand tossing in the gale, From town and hamlet shake the horrent glare ! 160 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. VIII. Now, its destin'd task fulfill' d, Asunder break the prison-mould ; Let the goodly Bell we build, Eye and heart alike behold. The hammer down heave, Till the cover it cleave : — For not till we shatter the wall of its cell Can we lift from its darkness and bondage the Bell. To break the mould, the master may, If skill'd the hand and ripe the hour ; But woe, when on its fiery way The metal seeks itself to pour. Frantic and blind, with thunder-knell, Exploding from its shattered home, And glaring forth, as from a hell, Behold the red Destruction come ! When rages strength that has no reason. There breaks the mould before the season ; When numbers burst what bound before. Woe to the State that thrives no more ! Yea, woe, when in the City's heart, The latent spark to flame is blown ; And Millions from their silence start. To claim, without a guide, their own ! Discordant howls the warning Bell, Proclaiming discord wide and far, And, born bn^t things of peace to tell, Becomes the ghastliest voice of war : " Freedom ! Equality ! "—to blood. Rush the roused people at the sound ! Through street, hall, palace, roars the flood. And banded murder closes round ! The hyoDna-shapes, (that women were !) Jest with the horrors they survey : They hound — they rend — they mangle there — As panthers with their prey ! Nought rests to hallow — burst the tics Of life's sublime and reverent awe ; Before the Vice the Virtue flies, And Universal Crime is Law ! THE LAY OF THE BELL. 16] Man fears tlio lion's kingly tread ; Man fears the tiger's fangs of terror ; And still the dreadliesfc of the dread, Is Man himself in error ! No torch, though lit from Heaven, illumes The Blind !---Why place it in his hand ? It lights not him — it but consumes The City and the Land ! IX. Rejoice and laud the prospering skies ! The kernel bursts its husk — ^behold From the dull clay the metal rise, Pure-shining, as a star of gold ! Neck and lip, but as one beam, It laughs like a sun-beam. And even the scutcheon, clear-graven, shall tell That the art of a master has fashion'd the Bell ! Come in — come in My merry men — we'll form a ring The new-born labour christening ; And " CONCOED " we will name her ! — To union may her heart-felt call In brother-love attune us all ! May she the destined glory win For which the master sought to frame her— Aloft — (all earth's existence under,) In blue-pavilion'd heaven afar To dwell — the Neighbour of the Thunder, The Borderer of the Star ! Be hers above a voice to raise Like those bright hosts in yonder spheroy. "Who, while they move, their Maker praise. And lead around the wreathed year ! To solemn and eternal things We dedicate her lips sublime ! — As hourly, calmly, on she swings — Fann'd by the fleeting wings of Time ! — H 162 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. No pnlse^ — no heart — no feeling hers ! She lends the warning voice to Fate ; And still companions, while she stirs, The changes of the Human State ! So may she teach us, as her tone But now so mighty, melts away — • That earth no life which earth has known From the last silence can delay ! m^ * * * * Slowly now the cords upheave her ! From her earth-grave soars the Bell ; Mid the airs of Heaven we leave her ! In the Music-Kealm to dwell ! Up — upwards — yet raise — She has risen — she sways. Fair Bell to our city bode joy and increase. And oh, may thy first sound be hallow' d to — Peace ! * In "The Walk" we have seen the progress of Society — in " The Bell' we have the Lay of the Life of Man. This is the cro^vning Flower of that garland of Humanity, which, in his Culture-Historic poems, the hand of Schiller has entAvined. In England, "The Lay of the Bell" has been the best known of the Poet's compositions— out of the Drama. It has been the favourite subject selected by his translators ; to say nothing of others (more recent, but with which, wo own we are unacquainted), the elegant version of Lord Francis Egerton has long since familiarised its beauties to the English public ; and had it been possible to omit from our collection a poem of such importance, we would willingly have declined the task which suggests comparisons disadvantageous to ourselves. The idea of this poem, had long been revolved by Schiller, f He went often to a bell-foundry, to make himself thoroughly master of the mechanical process, which he has applied to purposes so ideal. Even from the time in which he began the actual composition of the poem, two years elapsed before it was completed. The work profited by the delay, and as the Poet is generally clear in propor- tion to his entire familiarity with his own design, so of all Schiller's moral poems this is the most intelligible to the ordinary understanding ; perhapr the more so, because, as one of his Commentators has remarked, the prin-« cipal ideas and images he has already expressed in his previous writings, and his mind was thus free to give itself up more to the form than to tha thought. Still we think that the symmetry and oneness of the composition have been indiscriminately panegyrised. As the Lay of Life, it begias with Birth, and when it arrives at Leath, it has reached its legitimate con- clusion. The rtader will observe, at the seventh strophe, that there is an abrupt and final break in the>individual interest which has hitherto con- nected the several portions. Till then, he has had before him the pro- minent figure of a single man — the one representative of human life — whose baptism the Bell has celebrated, whose youth, wanderings, return to his * Written in the time of the French war. t See Life of Schiller, by Madame von Wolzogen. THE POETRY OF LIFE. 163 father's house, lovo, marriage, prosperity, misfortunes, to the death of the wife, have carried on the progress of the Poem ; and this loading figure then recedes altogether from the scene, and the remainder of the Poem, till the ninth stanza, losing sight altogether of individual life, merely repeats tlie purpose of " The Walk," and confounds itself in illustrations of social life in general. The picture of the French Revolution, theugh admirably done, is really not only an episode in the main design, but is merely a copy of that already painted, and set in its proper place, in the Historical Poem of "The Walk." But wliatever weight may be attached, Avhether to this objection or to others which we have seen elsewhere urged, the " non Ego paucis offendar maculis " may, indeed, be well applied to a Poem so replete with the highest excellences, — so original in conception — so full of pathos, spu-it, and variety in its plan — and so complete in its mastery over form and language. . . . Much of its beauty must escape in translation, even if an English Schiller were himself the translator. For that beauty which belongs to form — the "curiosa felicitas verborum" — is always untranslatable. Witness the Odes of Horace, the greater part of Goethe's Lyrics, and the Choruses of Sophocles. Though the life of Man is pourtrayed, it is the life of a German man. The wanderings, or apprenticeship, of the youth, arc not a familiar feature in our own civilisation; the bustling housewife is peculiarly German ; so is the incident of the fire — a misfortune very common in parts of Germany, and which the sound of the church-bell proclaims. Thus that peculiar charm wliich belongs to the recognition of familiar and household images, in an ideal and poetic form, must be in a great measure lost to a foreigner. The thought, too, at the end — the prayer for Peace — is of a local and temporary nature. It breathed the wish of all Germany, during the four years' war with France, and was, at the date of publication — like all temporary allusions— a strong and eflfcctive close, to become, after the interest of the allusion ceased, comparatively feeble and non-univei-sal. These latter observations are made, not in depreciation of the Poem, but on behalf of it; to show that it has beauties peculiar to the language it was written in, and the people it addressed, of which it must be despoiled in translation. THE POETRY OF LIFE. " Who would himself with shadows entertain, Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain, Or nurse false hope^s that do but cheat the true ? — Though with my dream my heaven should be resign'd- Though the free-pinion'd soul that once could dwell In the large empire of the Possible, This work-day life with iron chains may bind, Yet thus the mastery o'er ourselves we find, And solemn duty to our acts decreed, Meets UB thus tutor 'd in the hour of need, With a more sober and submissive mind ! How front Necessity — yet bid thy youth Shun the mild rule of life's calm sovereign. Truth.*' M 2 ]CA> POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. So speak'st thon, friend, how stronger far than I ; As from Experience — that sure port serene — Thou look'st ; — and straight, a coldness wraps the sky, The summer glory withers from the scene, Scared by the solemn spell ; behold them fly, The godlike images that seem'd so fair ! Silent the playful Muse — the rosy Hours Halt in their dance ; and the May-breathing flowers Fall from the sister- Graces' waving hair. Sweet-mouth'd Apollo breaks his golden lyre, Hermes, the wand with many a marvel rife ; — The veil, rose-woven, by the young Desire With dreams, drops from the hueless cheeks of Life. The world seems what it is — A Grave ! and Love Oasts down the bondage wound his eyes above, And sees ! — He sees but images of clay Where he dream'd gods ; and sighs — and glides away. The youngness of the Beautiful grows old, And on thy lips the bride's sweet kiss seems cold ; And in the crowd of joys — upon thy throne Thou sitt'st in state, and hardenest into stone. THE ANTIQUE AT PAEIS. (free translation.) What the Greek wrought, the vaunting Frank may gain, And waft the pomp of Hellas to the Seine ; His proud museums may with marble groan, And Gallia gape on Glories not her own ; But ever silent in the ungenial Halls Shall stand the Statues on their pedestals. By him alone the Muses are possest. Who warms them from the marble — at his breast; Bright, to the Greek, from stone each goddess grew — Vandals, each goddess is but stone to you I THEKLA. 10 J THE MAID OF ORLEANS. To flaunt the fair shape of Humanity, LoAvd Mockery dragg'd thee through the mire it trod/' Wil wars with Beauty everlastingly — Yearns for no Angel — worships to no God — Views the heart's wealth, to steal it as the thief — Assails Delusion, but to kill Belief. Yet the true Poetry — herself, like thee, Sprung from the younger race, a shepherd maid, Gives thee her birthright of Divinity, Thy wrongs in life in her star- worlds repaid. Sweet Virgin-Type of Thought, pure, brave, and high — The Heart created thee — thou canst not die. The mean world loves to darken what is bright, To see to dust each loftier image brought ; But fear not — souls there are that can delight In the high Memory and the stately Thought ; To ribald mirth let Momus rouse the mart, But forms more noble glad the noble heart. THEKLA. (a spirit voice.) [It was objected to Schiller's " Wallenstein," that he had suffered Thekla to dirfii])poar from tlic Play Avitliout any clear intimation of her fate. These stanzas arc his answer to the objection.] WuERE am I ? whither borne ? From thee As soars my fleeting shade above ? r.'j not all being closed for me, And over life and love ? — Wouldst ask, where wing their flight away The Nightbirds that enraptured air AVith Music's soul in liapjoy May ? But while they loved — they were ! * Voltaii-e, in " The rucelle." 166 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. And have I found the Lost again ? Yes, I witli him at last am wed ; Where hearts are never rent in twain, And tears are never shed. There, wilt thou find us welcome thee, When thy life to our life shall glide : My father,* too, from sin set free, Nor Murther at his side — Feels there, that no delusion won His bright faith to the starry spheres ; Each faith (nor least the boldest one) Still towards the Holy nears. There word is kept with Hope ; to wild Belief a lovely truth is given ! O dare to err and dream ! — the child Has instincts of the Heaven ! AVILLIAM TELL. [Lines accompanying tlic copy of Scliiller's Drama of "William Tell, prc- seated to the Arch-Chancellor von Dalberg.] In that fell strife, when force with force engages, And Wrath stirs bloodshed — Wrath with blindfold eyes — ■ When, midst the war which raving Faction wages, Lost in the roar — the voice of Justice dies. When but for license. Sin the shameless, rages, Against the Holy, when the Wilful rise, iVhen lost the Anchor which makes Nations strong Amidst the storm, — there is no theme for song. * Wallenstcin : — the next stanza alludes to his belief in Astrology ; — of which such beautiful uses have been made by Schiller in his solemn tragedy. CARTHAGE. 167 II. But when a Race, tending by vale and hill Free flocks, contented with its rude domain — Bursts the hard bondage with its own great will, Lets fall the sword when once it rends the chain, And, flush'd with Victory, can be human still — There blest the strife, and then inspired the strain. Such is my theme — to thee not strange, 'tis true, Thou in the Great canst never find the New ! * ARCHIMEDES. To Archimedes once a scholar came, " Teach me," he said, " the Art that won thy fame ;- The godlike Art which gives such boons to toil, And showers such fruit upon thy native soil ; — The godlike Art that girt the town when all Rome's vengeance burst in thunder on the wall ! " " Thou call'st Art godlike — it is so, in truth, And was," replied the Master to the youth, " Ere yet its secrets were applied to use — Ere yet it served beleaguered Syracuse : — Ask'st thou from Art, but what the Art is worth ? The fruit ? — for fruit go cultivate the Earth. — He who the goddess would aspire unto. Must not the goddess as the woman woo ! '* CARTHAGE. Tiiou, of the nobler Mother Child degenerate; — all the while That with the Roman's Might didst match the Tyrian's crafty guile ; The one thro' strength subdued the earth — tliat by its strength it ruled — Thro' cunning earth the other stole, and by the cunning school'd — * The concludiiif? point in the original requires some paraphrase in trans lation.— Schiller's lines are — Und solch ein Bild darf ich dir froudig zeigcn Du kennst's— denn nlles Grosse ist dein eigen. 188 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. With iron as the Roman, thou (let History speak) didst gain The empire which with gold thou as the Tyrian didst maintain. COLUMBUS. Steer on, bold Sailor — Wit may mock thy soul thp-t sees the land. And hopeless at the helm may droop the weak and weary hand, Yet ever — ever to the West, for there the coast must lie. And dim it dawns and glimmering dawns before thy reason's eye; Yea, trust the guiding God— and go along the floating grave. Though hid till now — yet now, behold the New World o'er the wave ! With Genius Nature ever stands in solemn union still, And ever what the One foretels the Other shall fulfil. N-^NIA.* The Beautiful, that men and gods alike subdues, must perish ; For pity ne'er the iron breast of Stygian Jovef shall cherish ! Once only — Love, by aid of Song, the Shadow- Sovereign thrall'd. And at the dreary threshold he again the boon recall'd. Not Aphrodite's heavenly tears to love and life restored Her own adored Adonis, by the grisly monster gored ! Not all the art of Thetis saved her god-like hero son. When, falling by the Sceean gate, his race of glory run ! But forth she came, with all the nymphs of Nereus, from the deep, A-round the silence of the Dead to sorrow and to weep. * Najiiia was the goddess ol' luuerald— and fuueral songs were called Na}nia). t Pluto. THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE. 169 See tears arc shed by every god and goddess, to survey How soon the Beautif al is past, the Perfect dies away ! Yet noble sounds the voice of wail — and woe the Dead can grace ; For never wail and woe are heard to mourn above the Base ! JOVE TO HERCULES. 'TwAS not my nectar made thy strength divine, But 'twas thy strength which made my nectar thine ! THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE. In Schiller's Poem of " The Ideal," a translation of which has already been presented to the reader, but which was composed subsequently to " The Ideal and the Actual," the prevailing sentiment is of that simple pathos which can come home to every man who has mourned for Youth, and the illusions which belong to it — for the hour Of glory in the grass, and splendour in the flower. But "The Ideal and the Actual" is purely philosophical; a poem "in which," says Hoffmeister, " every object and epithet has a metaphysical back-ground." Schiller himself was aware of its obscurity to the general reader; he desires that even the refining Humboldt "should read it in a kind of holy stillness— and banish, during the meditation it required, all that WMS profane." Humboldt proved himself Avorthy of these instructions, by the enthusiastic admiration with which the poem inspired him. Pre- vious to its composition, Schiller had been employed upon philosophical inquiries, especially his " Letters on the JEsthetic Education of Man ; " and of these Letters it is truly o1)scrvcd, that the Poem is the crowning Flower. To tliose acquainted with Schiller's philosophical works and views, the poem is therefore less obscure ; in its severe compression such readers behold but the poetical epitome of thoughts the depth of which they have already sounded, and the coherence of which they have already ascertained— thev recognise a familiar symbol, where the general reader only perplexes himself ill a riddle. NVithout entering into disquisitions, out of place in this translation, and fatiguing to those who desire in a collection of poems to enjoy the poetical — not to be bewildered by the abstract— we shall merely preface the poem, with the hell) of Schiller's commentators, by a short analysis of the general design and meaning, so at least jis to facilitate the reader's sltuli/ of this re- markable poem — study it will require, and well repay. The Poem begins, Stanza 1st, with the doctrine which Schiller has often inculcated, that to Man there rests but the choice between the pleasures of sense, and the peace of the soul ; but both arc united in the life of tlie Im- mortals, viz., the higher orders of being. Stanza 2nd.— Still it may be ours 170 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. to attain, even on earth, to this loftier and holier life — provided we can raise ourselves beyond material objects. Stanza 3rd. — The Fates can .only- influence the body, and the things of time and matter. But, safe from the changes of matter and of life, the Platcfnic Archetype, Form, hovers in the realm of the Ideal. If Ave can ascend to this realm — in other words, to the domain of Beauty — we attain (Stanza 4th) to the perfection of Humanity — a perfection only found in the immaterial forms and shadows of that realm — yet in which, as in the Gods, the sensual and the intellectual powers are tmited. In the Actual Life we strive for a goal we cannot reach ; in the Ideal, the goal is attainable, and there effort is victory. With Stanza 5th begins the antithesis, which is a key to the remainder — an antithesis con- stantly ballancing before us the conditions of the Actual and the privileges of the Ideal. The Ideal is not meant to relax, but to brace us for the Actual Life. From the latter we cannot escape | but when we begin to flag beneath the sense of our narrow limits, and the difficulties of the path, the eye, steadfastly fixed upon the Ideal Beauty aloft, beholds there the goal. Stanza 6th. — In Actual Life, Strengtli and Courage are the requisities for success, and are doomed to eternal struggle ; but (Stanza 7th) in the Ideal Life, struggle exists not; the stream, gliding far fi'om its rocky sources, is smoothed to repose. Stanza 8th. — In the Actual Life, as long as the Artist still has to contend with matter, he must strive and labour. Truth is only elicited by toil — the statue only wakens from the block by the stroke of the chisel ; but when (Stanza 9th) he has once achieved the idea of Beauty — when once he has elevated the material marble into form — all trace of his human neediness and frailty is lost, and his work seems the child of the soul. Stanza 9th. — Again, in the Actual Avorld, the man who strives for Virtue, finds every sentiment and every action poor compared to the rigid standard of the abstract moral law. But if (Stanza 9th), instead of striving for Virtue, merely from the cold sense of duty, we live that life beyond the senses, in which Virtue, becomes as iT were natural to us — m which its behests are served, not through duty but inclination — then the gulf between man and the moral law is filled up ; we take the Godhead, so to speak, into our will ; and Heaven ceases its terrors, when man ceases to resist it. Stanza 10th. — Finally, in Actual Life, sorroAvs, Avhether our own, or those with which we sympathise, are terrible and poAverful; but (Stanza 11th) in the Ideal World even Sorrow has its pleasures. We con- template the Avrithings of the Laocoon in marble, Avith delight in the greatness of Art— not Avith anguish for the suffering, but Avith veneration for the grandeur Avith AA'hich the suffering is idealised by the Artist, or expi-essed by the subject. Over the pain of Art smiles the Heaven of the Moral Avorld. Stanzas 11th and 12th. — Man thus aspiring to the Ideal, is compared to tlie Mythical Hercules. In the Actual Avorld he must suffer and must toil ; but Avhen once he can cast aside the garb of clay, and through the Ethereal flame separate the Mortal from the Immortal, the material dross sinks dowuAvard, the spirit soars aloft, and Hebe (or Eternal Youth) pours out nectar as to the Gods. If the reader will have the patience to compare the above analysis Avith the subjoined version (in AA-hich the Translator has also sought to render the general sense as intelligible as possible), he Avill probably find little difficulty in clearing up the Author's meaning. For ever fair, for ever calm and bright, Life flies on plumage, zephyr-light, For those who on the Olympian hill rejoice— THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE. 17i Moons wane, and races wither to the tomb, And 'mid the universal ruin, bloom The rosy days of Gods — With Man, the choice, Timid and anxious, hesitates between The sense's pleasure and the soul's content ; While on celestial brows, aloft and sheen. The beams of both are blent. II. Seek'st thou on earth the life of Gods to share, Safe in the Realm of Death ? — beware To pluck the fruits that glitter to thine eye ; Content thyself with gazing on their glow — Short are the joys Possession can bestow. And in Possession sweet Desire will die. 'Twas not the ninefold chain of waves that bound Thy daughter, Ceres, to the Stygian river — She pluck'd the fruit of the unholy ground, And so — was Hell's for ever ! ni. The Weavers of the Web — the Fates — ^but sway The matter and the things of clay ; Safe from each change that Time to Matter gives. Nature's blest playmate, free at will to stray With Gods a god, amidst the fields of Day, The Form, the Archetype,* serenely lives. Would'st thou soar heavenward on its joyous wing ? Cast from thee. Earth, the bitter and the real, High from this cramp'd and dungeon being, spring Into the Ilealm of the Ideal ! IV. Here, bathed. Perfection, in thy purest ray, Free from the clogs and taints of clay, Hovers divine the Archetypal Man ! Dim as those phantom ghosts of life that gleam And wander voiceless by the Stygian stream, — Fair as it stands in fields Elysian, * "Die Gestalt"— Forai, the Pbtonic Archetype. 172 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEK Ere down to Flesli the Immortal dotli descend : If donbtfal ever in tlie Actual life Each contest — here a victory crowns the end Of every nobler strife. V. Not from the strife itself to set thee' free, But more to nerve — doth Victory Wave her rich garland from the Ideal clime. Whate'er thy wish, the Earth has no repose — Life still must drag thee onward as it flows, Whirling thee down the dancing surge of Time. But when the courage sinks beneath the dull Sense of its narrow limits — on the soul, Bright from the hill-tops of the Beautiful, Bursts the attained goal ! VI. If worth thy while the glory and the strife Which fire the lists of Actual Life — The ardent rush to fortune or to fame, In the hot field where Strength and Valour are. And rolls the whirling thunder of the car, And the world, breathless, eyes the glorious game- Then dare and strive — the prize can but belong To him whose valour o'er his tribe prevails ; In life the victory only crowns the strong — He who is feeble fails. VII. Bat Life, whose source, by crags around it pil'd. Chafed while confin'd, foams fierce and wild. Glides soft and smooth when once its streams expand, When its waves, glassing in their silver play, Aurora blent with Hcspcr's milder ray. Gain the still Beautiful — that Shadow-Land ! Here, contest grows but interchange of Love, All curb is but the bondage of the Grace ; Gone is each foe, — Peace folds her wings above Her native dwelling-place. THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE. 173 VIII. Wlicn, throngh dead stone to breathe a soul of light, With the dull matter to unite The kindling genius, some great sculptor glows ; Behold him straining every nerve intent — Behold how, o'er the subject element. The stately Though'L' its march laborious goes ! For never, save to Toil untiring, spoke The unwilling Truth from her mysterious well — The statue only to the chisel's stroke Wakes from its marble cell. IX. But onward to the Sphere of Beauty — go Onward, Child of Art ! and, lo, Out of the matter which thy pains control The Statue springs ! — not as with labour wrung From the hard block, but as from Nothing sprung — Airy and light — the offspring of the soul ! The pangs, the cares, the weary toils it cost Leave not a trace when once the work is done — The Artist's human frailty merged and lost In Art's great victory won ! * X. If human Sin confronts the rigid law Of perfect Truth and yirtue,t awe Seizes and saddens thee to see how far Beyond thy reach, Perfection ; — if we test By the Ideal of the Grood, the best. How mean our efforts and our actions are ! This space between the Ideal of man's soul And man's achievement, who hath ever past ? An ocean spreads between us and that goal, Where anchor ne'er was cast ! * More literally translated thus by the Author of the Article on SchiUei in the I'ortujn (tiul Colonial Review, July, 1843 — " Thence all witnesses for ever banished Of poor Human Nakedness." t The Law, i. e., the Kantian Ideal of Truth and Virtue. This stanza and the next embody, perhaps with some exaggeration, tlic Kantian doctrine of morality. 174 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. XI. But fly the boundary of the Senses — live The Ideal life free Thought can give ; And, lo, the gulf shall vanish, and the chill Of the soul's impotent despair be gone ! And with divinity thou sharest the throne, Let but divinity become thy will ! Scorn not the Law — permit its iron band The sense (it cannot chain the soul) to thrall. Let man no more the will of Jove withstand,* And Jove the bolt lets fall ! XII. If, in the woes of Actual Human Life — If thou could'st see the serpent strife Which the Greek Art has made divine in stone- Could'st see the writhing limbs, the livid cheek, Note every pang, and hearken every shriek Of some despairing lost Laocoon, The huruan nature would thyself subdue To share the human woe before thine eye — Thy cheek would pale, and all thy soul be true To Man's great Sympathy. XIII. But in the Ideal Realm, aloof and far, Where the calm Art's pure dwellers are, Lo, the Laocoon writhes, but does not groan. Here, no sharp grief the high emotion knows — Here, suffering's self is made divine, and shows The brave resolve of the firm soul alone : Here, lovely as the rainbow on the dew Of the spent thunder-cloud, to Art is given, Grleaming through Grief's dark veil, the peaceful biuo Of the sweet Moral Heaven. * " But in God's sight submission is command." "Jonah," by the Eev. F. Hodgson. Quoted in Foreign and Colonial Jtevieiv, July, 1843 : Ai't. Scluller, p. 21. THE FAVOUR OF THE MOMENT. 175 XIV. So, in the glorious parable, behold How, bow'd to raortal bonds, of old Life's dreary path divine Alcides trod : The hydra and the lion were his prey, And to restore the friend he loved to-day, He went undaunted to the black-brow'd God ; And all the torments and the labours sore Wroth Juno sent — the meek majestic One, "With patient spirit and unquailing, bore, Until the course was run — XV. Until the God cast down his garb of clay, And rent in hallowing flame away The mortal part from the divine — to soar To the empyreal air ! Behold him spring Blithe in the pride of the unwonted wing, And the dull matter that confined before Sinks downward, downward, downward as a dream ! Olympian hymns receive the escaping soul, And smihng Hebe, from the ambrosial stream, Fills for a God the bowl ! THE FAVOUR OF THE MOMENT. Once more, then, we meet In the circles of yore ; Let our song be as sweet In its wreaths as before. Who claims the first place In the tribute of song ? The God to whose grace All our pleasures belong. Though Ceres may spread All her gifts on the shrine, Though the glass may bo red With the blush of the vine, 176 POEMS AND BALLADS OP SCHILLER. What boots — if tlio while Fall no spark on the hearth ? If the heart do not smile With the instinct of mirth ? — From the clouds, from God's breast Must our happiness fall, 'Mid the blessed, most blest Is the Moment of all ! Since Creation began All that mortals have wrought, All that's godlike in Man Comes — the flash of a Thought ! For ages the stone In the quarry may lurk, An instant alone Can suffice to the work ; An impulse give birth To the child of the soul, A glance stamp the worth And the fame of the whole.* On the arch that she buildeth From sunbeams on high, As Iris just gildeth, And fleets from the sky, So shineth, so gloometh Each gift that is ours ; The lightning illumeth The darkness devours ! f THE FORTUNE FAVOURED. [The first five verses in the original of this Poera are placed as a motto on Goethe's statue in the Library at 'Wciniar. The Poet does not here mean to extol what is vulgarly meant by the Gifts of Fortune; he but develops a favourite idea of his, that, whatever is really sublime and beautiful, comes freely down from Heaven ; and vindicates the seeming ♦ The idea diffused by the translator through this and the preceding stanza, is more forcibly condensed by Schiller in four lines. f " And ere a man hath power to say, ' behold,' The jaws of Darkness do devour it up. So quick bright things come to confusion." — SiiAiCESrEARB. THE FORTUNE FAVOURED. 177 partiality of the Gods, by implying that the Beauty and the Genius given, without labour, to souic, but serve to the delight of those to Arhoiu thoy aro denied.] Ah ! liapp J He, upon wliose birth each God Looks down in love, whose earliest sleep the bright Idalia cradles, whose young lips the rod Of eloquent Hermes kindles — to whose eyes, Scarce waken'd yet, Apollo steal in light. While on imperial brows Jove sets the seal of might! Godlike the lot ordain'd for him to share, He wins the garland ere he runs the race ; He learns life's wisdom ere he knows life's care, And, without labour vanquish'd, smiles the Grace. Great is the man, I grant, whose strength of mind, Self- shapes its objects and subdues the Fates — Virtue subdues the Fates, but cannot bind The fickle Happiness, whose smile awaits Those who scarce seek it ; nor can courage earn What the Grace showers not from her own free urn ! From aught unworthy, the determined will Can guard the watchful spirit — there it ends ; — The all that's glorious from the heaven descends ; As some sweet mistress loves us, freely still Come the spontaneous gifts of Heaven ! — Above Favour rules Jove, as it below rules Love ! The Immortals have their bias ! — Kindly they See the bright locks of youth enamour'd play. And where the glad one goes, shed gladness round the way. It is not they who boast the best to see, AVhoso eyes the holy Apparitions bless ; The stately light of their divinity llatli oft but shone the brightest on the blind; — And their choice spirit found its calm recess In the pure childhood of a simple mind. Unask'd they come — delighted to delude The expectation of our baffled Pride ; No law can call their free stops to our side. Him whom He loves, the Sire of men and gods, (Selected from the marvelling multitude,) 13ears on his eagle to his bright abodes ; And showers, with partial hand and lavish, down, The minstrel's laurel or the monarch's crown ! 178 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHlLLEU. Before the fortune-favour'd son of earth, Apollo walks — and, with his jocund mirth. The heart-enthralling Smiler of the skie^ : For him grey Nej)tune smooths the pliant wave — Harmless the waters for the ship that bore The Caesar and his fortunes to the shore ! Charm' d at his feet the crouching lion lies, To him his back the murmuring dolphin gave ; His soul is born a sovereign o'er the strife — The lord of all the Beautiful of Life ; Where'er his presence in its calm has trod, It charms — it sways as some diviner God. Scorn not the Fortune-favour'd, that to him The light-won victory by the gods is given. Or that, as Paris, from the strife severe, The Venus draws her darling. — Whom the heaven So prospers, love so watches, I revere ! And not the man upon whose eyes, with dim And baleful night, sits Fate. Achaia boasts, No less the glory of the Dorian Lord * That Yulcan wrought for him the shield and sword- That round the mortal hover' d all the hosts Of all Olympus — that his wrath to grace, The best and bravest of the Grecian race Untimely slaughtered, with resentful ghosts Awed the pale people of the Stygian coasts ! Scorn not the Darlings of the Beautiful, If without labour they Life's blossoms cull ; If, like the stately lilies, they have won A crown for which they neither toil'd nor spun ;— If without merit, theirs be Beauty, still Thy sense, unenvying, with the Beauty fill. Alike for thee no merit wins the right, To share, by simply seeing, their delight. Heaven breathes the soul into the Minstrel's breast. But with that soul he animates the rest ; The God inspires the Mortal — but to God, In turn, the Mortal lifts thee from the sod. Oh, not in vain to Heaven the Bard is dear ; Holy himself — he hallows those who hear ! * Acliilles. SENTENCES OF CONFUCIUS. 179 The busy mart let Justice still control, Weighing the guerdon to the toil ! — What then ? A God alone claims joy — all joy is his, Flushing with unsought liglit the cheeks of men. *Where is no miracle, why there no bliss ! Grow, change, and ripen all that mortal be, Shapen'd from form to form, by toiling time ; The Blissful and the Beautiful are born Full grown, and ripen'd from Eternity — No gradual changes to their glorious prime, No childhood dwarfs them, and no age has worn. — Like Heaven's, each earthly Venus on the sight Comes, a dark birth, from out an endless sea ; Like the first Pallas, in maturest might, Arm'd, from the Thunderer's brow, leaps forth each Thought of Light. THE SOWER. Sure of the Spring that warms them into birth, The golden seeds thou trustest to the Earth ; And dost thou, doubt the Eternal Spring sublime, For deeds — the seeds which Wisdom sows in Time ? SENTENCES OF CONFUCIUS. TIME. TuREEFOLD the stride of Time, from first to last ! Loitering slow, the Future creepeth — Arrow- swift, the Present sweepetli — And motionless for ever stands the Past. Unpatience, fret howe'er she may, Cannot speed the tardy goer ; Fear and Doubt — that crave delay- Ne'er can make the Fleet One slower : * Paraphrased from — Abcr die Freudc ruft nur cin Goth auf sterbliche "Wangen. These lines furnish the key to — Nur eiu Wunder kann dich tragen In dus schone Wundcrhmd.— Schiller, Sehnsucht. And the same lines, with what follow, explain also the general intention of the poem on the fuvoui* of the moment. N 2 180 POEMS ANt> BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Nor one spell Repentance knows, To stir the Still One from repose. ' * If thou would'st, wise and happy, see Life's solemn journey close for thee, The Loiterer's counsel thou wilt heed, Though readier tools must shape the deed ; Not for thy friend the Fleet One know, Nor make the Motionless thy foe ! SPACE. A threefold measure dwells in Space — Restless, with never-pausing pace, Length, ever stretching ever forth, is found. And, ever widening, Breadth extends around, And ever Depth sinks bottomless below ! In this, a type thou dost possess — On, ever restless, must thou press. No halt allow, no languor know, If to the Perfect thou wouldst go ; Must broaden from thyself, until Creation thy embrace can fill ! Must down the Depth for ever fleeing. Dive to the spirit and the being. The distant goal at last to near. Still lengthening labour sweeps ; The full mind is alone the clear. And Truth dwells in the deeps. THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHERN WANDERER. And o'er the river hast thou past, and o'er the mighty sea, And o'er the Alps, the dizzy bridge hath borne thy steps to me ; To look all near upon the bloom my deathless beauty knowF, And, face to face, to front the pomp whose fame through ages goes — Gaze on, and touch my relics now ! At last thou standesi here. But art thou nearer now to me — or I to thee more near ? GENIUS. 181 GENIUS. ^ (free translation.) [The original and it seems to us the more appropriate, title of this Pocm> was "Nature and the School."] Do I believe, thou ask'st, tlie Master's word, The Schoolman's shibboleth that binds the herd ? To the sonl's haven is there but one chart ? Its peace a problem to be learned by art ? On system rest the happy and the good ? To base the temple must the props be wood ? Must I distrust the gentle law, imprest. To guide and warn, by Nature on the iDrcast, Till, squared to rule the instinct of the soul, — Till the School's signet stamp the eternal scroll, Till in one mould, some dogma hath confined The ebb and flow — the light waves — of the mind ? Say thou, familiar to these depths of gloom. Thou, safe ascended from the dusty tomb, * Thou, who hast trod these weird Egyptian cells — Say — if Life's comfort with yon mummies dwells ! — Say — and I grope — with saddened steps indeed — But on, thro' darkness, if to Truth it lead ! Nay, Friend, thou know'st the golden time — the ago Whose legends live in many a poet's page ? When heavenlier shapes with Man walked side by side, And the chaste Feeling was itself a guide ; Then the great law, alike divine amid Suns bright in Heaven, or germs in darkness hid, — That silent law — (call'd whether by the name Of Nature or Necessity — the same), To that deep sea, the heart, its movement gave — Sway'd the fall tide, and freshened the free wave. Then sense unerring — because unreproved — True as the finger on the dial moved. Half- guide, half -play mate, of Earth's age of youth. The sportive instinct of Eternal Truth. Then, nor Initiate nor Profane were known ; Where the Heart felt — there Reason found a throne : 182 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEB. Not from the dust below, but life around "Warm Genius shaped what quick Emotion found. One rule, like light, for every bosom glowed. Yet hid from all the fountain whence it flowed. But, gone that blessed Age ! — our wilful pride Has lost, with Nature, the old peaceful Guide. Feeling, no more to raise us and rejoice, Is heard and honoured as a Godhead's voice ; And, disenhallowed in its eldest cell The Human Heart, — lies mute the Oracle; ■^' • Save where the low and mystic whispers thrill Some listening spirit more divinely still. There, in the chambers of the inmost heart. There, must the Sage explore the Magian's art ; There, seek the long-lost Nature's steps to track, Till, found once more, she gives him Wisdom back ! Hast thou, — (0 Blest, if so, whate'er betide !) — Still kept the Guardian Angel by thy side ? Can thy Heart's guileless childhood yet rejoice In the sweet instinct with its warning voice ? Does Truth yet limn upon untroubled eyes, Pure and serene, her world of Iris-dies ? Rings clear the echo which her accent calls Back from the breast, on which the music falls ? In the calm mind is doubt yet hush'd, — and will That doubt to-morrow as to-day be still ? tWill all these fine sensations in their play. No censor need to regulate and sway ? Fear'st thou not in the insidious Heart to find The source of Trouble to the limpid mind ? No ! — then thine Innocence thy Mentor be ! Science can teach thee nought — she learns from thee ! * Schiller seems to allude to the philosophy of Fichte and Schelling then on the ascendant, "svhich sought to explain tlic enigma of the universe, and to reconcile the antithesis between man and nature, by carrying both up into the unity of an absolute consciousness, i. c, a consciousness anterior to everything which is now known under tlio name of consciousness — sod de liae re satius est silere quani parvum dicere. t "Will this play of fine sensations (or sensibilities) require no censor to control it — i. e., will it always work spontaneously for good, and run into no passionate excess ? VOTIVE TABLETS. 183 EacK law tliat lends lame succour to the Weak — The cripple's crutch — the vigorous need not seek ! From thine own self thy rule of action draw ; — That which thou dost — what charms thee — is thy Law, And founds to every race a code sublime — What pleases Genius gives a Law to Time ! The Word — the Deed — all Ages shall command, Pure if thy lip and holy if thy hand ! Thou, thou alone mark'st not within thy heart The inspiring God whose Minister thou art, Know'st not the magic of the mighty ring Which bows the realm of Spirits to their King : But meek, nor conscious of diviner birth, Glide thy still footstejDS thro' the conquered Earth ! ULYSSES. To gain his home all oceans he explored — Here Scyllafrown'd — and there Charybdis roar'd; Horror on sea — and horror on the land — In hell's dark boat he sought the spectre land, Till borne — a slumberer — to his native spot He woke — and sorrowing, knew his country not ! VOTIVE TABLETS. [Under this title Schiller arranged that more dignified and philoso- phical portion of the small Poems published as Epigrams in the " Musen Almanach;" which rather sought to point a general thought, than a per- sonal satire.— Many of these, however, are either wholly without interest for the English reader, or express in almost untranslateablo laconism what, in far more poetical shapes Schiller has elsewhere repeated and de- veloped. We, therefore, content ourselves with such a selection as appears to us best suited to convey a fair notion of the object and spiiit of the class.] MOTTO TO THE VOTIVE TABLETS. What the God taught— Avhat has befriended all Life's ways, I place upon the Votive Wall. THE GOOD AND THE BEAUTIFUL. (ZWEIERLEI WIRKUNGSARTEN.) The Good's the Flower to Earth already given — The Beautiful — on Earth sows flowers from Heaven ! 184 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. VALUE AND WORTH. If thon Tiast sometliiiig, bring thy goods — a fair return Ido thine ; If thou art something, bring thy soul and interchange with mine. THE DIVISION OF RANKS. Yes, in the moral world, as ours, we see Divided grades — a Soul's Nobility ; By deeds their titles Commoners create — The loftier order are by birthright great.* TO THE MYSTIC. Spreads Life's true mystery round us evermore, Seen by no eye, it lies all eyes before, f THE KEY. To know thyself — in others self discern ; Wouldst thou know others ? read thyself — and learn ! WISDOM AND PRUDENCE. WoULDST thou the loftiest height of Wisdom gain ? On to the rashness, Prudence would disdain ; The purblind see but the receding shore, Not that to which the bold wave wafts thee o'er ! * This idea is often repeated, somewhat more clearly, in the haughty philosophy of Schiller. He himself says, elsewhere — " In a fair soul each single action is not properly moral, hut the whole character is moral. The fair soul has no other service than the instincts of its own beauty." " Common Natures," observes Hoffmeister, " can only act as it were by rule and law; the Noble are of themselves morally good, and humanly beautiful." t Query ? — the Law of Creation, both physical and moral. VOTIVE TABLETS. 185 TIIE UNANIMITY. l'i:UTH seek we both — Thou, in the life without thee and around ; I in the Heart within — by both can Truth alike be found ; The healthy eye can through the world the great Creator track — The healthy heart is but the glass which gives creation back. THE SCIENCE OF POLITICS. All that thou dost be right — to that alone confine thy view, And halt within the certain rule — the All that's right to do ! True zeal the ivliat already is would sound and perfect see, False zeal would sound and perfect make the something that's to be ! TO ASTUONOMERS. Of the NebuloB * and planets do not babble so to me ; What ! is Nature only mighty inasmuch as you can see ? Inasmuch as you can measure her immeasurable ways ? As she renders world on world, sun and system to your gaze ? Though thro' space your object be the Sublimest to embrace, Never the Sublime abidcth — where you vainly search — in space ! * Nebelflecko ; i. e., the nebulous matter wliich puzzles astronomers. Is Nature, then, only great inasmuch as you can compute her almost incal- culable dimensions, or inasmuch as she furnishes almost incalculable subjects for your computations ? Your objoct is, indeed, the sublimest in space ; but the Sublime does not dwell in space — i. e., the Moral Law is the only Sub- lime, and its Kingdom is where Time and Space are not. 186 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER, THE BEST GOVEBNED STATE., How fbe best state to know ? — it is found out ; Like the best woman — that least talked about. MY BELIEF. What thy religion ? those thou namest — ^none ? None why — ^because I have religion ! FRIEND AND FOE. Dear is my friend — yet from my foe, as from my friend, comes good ; My friend shows what I can do, and my foe shows what I should. LIGHT AND COLOUR. Dwell, Light, beside the changeless God — God spoke and Light Ijegan ; Come, thou, the ever-changing one — come, Colour, down to Man ! FORUM OF WOMEN. Woman — to judge man rightly — do not scan Each separate act ; — pass judgment on the Man ! GENIUS. Intellect can repeat what's been fulfill'd, And, aping Nature, as she buildeth — build ; O'er Nature's base can haughty Reason dare To pile its lofty castle — in the air. But only thine, Genius, is the charge, In Nature's kingdom Nature to enlarge 1 VOTIVE TABLETS. 187 THE IMITATOR. Good ont of good — that art is known to all — But Genius from the bad the good can call ; Then, Mimic, not from leading-strings escaped, Work'st but the matter that's already shaped : The already shaped a nobler hand awaits, All matter asks a Spirit that creates ! CORRECTNESS. (fuee translation). The calm correctness, where no fault we see, Attests Art's loftiest or its least degree ; Alike the smoothness of the surface shows The Pool's dull stagner — the great Sea's repose. THE J^IASTER. The herd of scribes, by what they tell us, Show all in which tlieir wits excel us ', But the True Master we behold, In what his art leaves — just untold. EXPECTATION AND FULFILMENT. O'er Ocean, with a thousand masts, sails forth the stripling bold- One boat, hard rescued from the deep, draws into port the old! THE EPIC HEXAMETER. (translated by COLERIDGE.) Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless billows, Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky and the ocean. 188 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. THE ELEGIAC METRE. (translated by COLERIDGE). In the hexameter rises tlie fountain's s Ivery column, In the pentameter aye falling in melody back.* OTHER EPIGRAMS, &o. Give me tliat wHcli thou know'st — 1*11 receive and attend ; But thou givest me thyself — prithee, spare me, my friend ! THE PROSELYTE MAKER. "A LITTLE earth from out the Earth — and I The Earth will move : " so spake the Sage divine. Out of myself one little moment — try Myself to take : — succeed, and I am thine ! THE CONNECTING MEDIUM. What to cement the lofty and the mean Does Nature ? — what ? — place vanity between ! THE MORAL POET. [This is an Epigram on Lavatcr's work, called " Pontius Pilatus, oder dcr Mensch in Allen Gestalten," &c. — HofFxAieister.] " How poor a thing is man ! " alas, 'tis true I*d half forgot it — when I chanced on you ! * We have ventured to borrow these two translations from Coleridge's poems, not only because what Coleridge did well, no living man could have the presumptuous hope to improve, but because they adhere to the original metre, which Germany has received from Greece, and shuw, we venture to think, that not evoa Colciidge could have made that more agreeable to the English ear and teste in poems of any lengthy nor even in small poems if often repeated. It is, however, in their own language the grandest which the Germans possess, and has been used by Schiller with signal success in Ms "Walk," and other poems. TO THE PEINCE OF SAXE WEIMAR. 189 THE SUBLIME THEME. [Also on Lavatcr, and alluding to the " Jesus Messias, odor die Evangclicn und Apostelgcschichtc in Gcalingcn," &c.] How God comioassionatcs Mankind, thy muse, my friend, rehearses — Compassion for the sins of Man ! — What comfort for thy verses ! SCIENCE. To some she is the Goddess great, to some the milch-cow of the field ; Their care is but to calculate — what butter she will yield. KANT AND HIS COMMENTATOKS. How many starvelings one rich man can nourish ! When monarchs build, the rubbish-carriers flourish. TO THE HEREDITARY PRINCE OF SAXE WEIMAR, ON HIS JOURNEY TO PAEIS, WRITTEN FEBRUARY, 1802. [Sung in a friendly circle.] To the Wanderer a bowl to the brim ! This Vale on his infancy smil'd ; Let the Vale send a blessing to him, Whom it cradled to sleep as a child ! He goes from his Forefathers' halls — From the arms that embraced him at birth — To the City that trophies its walls With the spoils it has ravish'd from earth ! The thunder is silent, and now The War and the Discord are ended ; And Man o'er the crater may bow, Whence the stream of the lava descended. 190 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. fair be the fate to secure Thy way through the perilous track ; The heart Nature gave thee is pure, Bring it pure, as it goes from us, back. Those lands the wild hoofs of the steeds. War yoked for the carnage, have torn ; But Peace, laughing over the meads, Come, strewing the gold of the corn. Thou the old Eather Rhine wilt be greeting, By whom thy great Father * shall be Remembered so long as is fleeting His stream to the beds of the Sea ; — There, honour the Heroes of old, And pour to our Warden, the Rhine, Who keeps on our borders his hold, A cup from his own merry wine ; That thou may'st, as a guide to thy youth, The soul of the Fatherland find. When thou passest the bridge where the Truth Of the Grerman, thou leavest behind. TO A YOUNG FRIEND DEVOTING HIMSELF TO PHILOSOPHY. SbteeE the proof the Grrecian youth was doomed to undergo, Before ho might what lurks beneath the Eleusinia know — Art thou prepared and ripe, the shrine — that inner shrine — to win. Where Pallas guards from vulgar eyes the mystic prize within ? Know*st thou what bars thy way ? how dear the bargain thou dost make. When but to buy uncertain good, sure good thou dost forsake ? * Duke Bernard of Weimar, one of the great Generals of OEMS AKD ballads OP SCHILLER. Men like the Gods themselves may be, Tho' Men may not the Gods requitb ; Go soothe the pangs of Misery — Go share the gladness with delight. — Kevenge and hatred both forgot, Have nought but pardon for thy foe ; May sharp repentance grieve him not, No curse one tear of ours bestow ! Chorus — Let all the world be peace and love — Cancel thy debt-book with thy brother " For God shall judge of us above. As we shall judge each other ! Joy sparkles to U3 from the bowl — Behold the juice whose golden colour To meekness melts the savage soul, And gives Despair a Hero's valour. Up, brothers ! — Lo, we crown the cup ! Lo, the wine flashes "to the brim ! Let the bright Fount spring heavenward ! — Up ! To The Good Spirit this glass !— To Him ! Chorus — Praised by the ever- whirling ring Of Stars, and tuneful Seraphim — To The Good Spieit — the Father-King In Heaven ! — This glass to Him ! Firm mind to bear what Fate bestows ; Comfort to tears in sinless eyes ; Faith kept alike with Friends and Foes ; Man's Oath eternal as the skies ; Manhood — the thrones of Kings to girth, Tho' bought by limb or life, the prize ; Success to Merit's honest worth ; Perdition to the Brood of Lies ! Chonis — Draw closer in the holy ring. Swear by the wine-cup's golden river- Swear by the Stars, and by theii' King, To keep our vow for ever ! THE Il^VtNCIBLE ABMADA. l99 THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA. Sue comes, she comes — the Burthen of the Deeps ! Beneath her wails the Universal Sea ! With clanking chains and a new God, she sweeps, And with a thousand thunders, unto thee ! The ocean- castles and the floating hosts — Ne'er on their like, look'd the wild waters ! — Well Maj man the monster name " Invincible." O'er shudd'ring waves she gathers to thy coasts ! The horror that she spreads can claim Just title to her haughty name. The trembling Neptune quails Under the silent and majestic forms ; The Doom of Worlds in those dark sails ; — Near and more near they sweep ! and slumber all the Storms ! Before thee, the array, Blest island. Empress of the Sea ! The sea-born squadrons threaten thee, And thy great heart, Britannia ! Woe to thy people, of their freedom proud — She rests, a thunder heavy in its cloud ! Who, to thy hand the orb and sceptre gave. That thou should 'st be the sovereign of the nations ? To tyrant kings thou wert thyself the slave. Till Freedom dug from Law its deep foundations ; The mighty Chart thy citizens made kings And kings to citizens sublimely bow'd ! And thou thyself, upon thy realm of water. Hast thou not render'd millions up to slaughter, When thy ships brought upon their sailing wings The sceptre — and the shroud ? What should'st thou thank ? — Blush, Earth, to hear and feel: What should'st thou thank? — Thy genius and thy st6el ! Behold the hidden and the giant fires ! Behold thy glory trembling to its fall ! Thy coming doom tho round earth shall appal, iiOO POEMS AND BALLADS OF SOHILLEH. And all the hearts of freemen beat for thye, And all free souls their fate in thine foresee — Theirs is thy glory's fall ! One look below the Almighty gave, Where stream* d the lion- flags of thy proud foe j And near and wider yawn'd the horrent grave. "And who," saith He, " shall lay mine England low- The stem that blooms with hero-deeds— The rock when man from wrong a refuge needs — The stronghold where the tyrant comes in vain ? Who shall bid England vanish from the main ? Ne'er be this only Eden Freedom knew, Man's stout defence from Power, to Fate consign'd." God the Almighty blew. And the Armada went to every wind ! THE CONFLICT. No ! I this conflict longer will not wage. The conflict Duty claims — the giant task ; — Thy spells, Virtue, never can assuage ' The heart's wild fire — this offering do not ask ! True, I have sworn — a solemn vow have sworn. That I myself will curb the self within ; Yet take thy wreath, no more it shall be worn — Take back thy wreath, and leave me free to sin. Rent be the contract I with thee once made ; — She loves me, loves me — forfeit be thy crown ! Blest he who, luU'd in rapture's dreamy shade. Glides, as I glide, the deep fall gladly down. 8he sees the worm that my youth's bloom decays, She sees my springtime wasted as it flees ; And, marv'ling at the rigour that gainsays The heart's sweet impulse, my reward decrees. Distrust this angel purity, fair soul ! It is to guilt thy pity armeth me ; Could Being lavish its unmeasured whole, It ne'er could give a gift to rival Tltee I liESmNAl^IOK. ^01 Thee — the dear guilt I ever seek to sTiun, O tyranny of fate, O wild desires ! My virtue's only crown can but be won In that last breath — when virtue's self exjDircs ! RESIGNATION. And I, too, was amidst Arcadia born. And Nature seem'd to woo me ; And to my cradle snch sweet joys were sworn : And I, too, was amidst Arcadia born, Yfet the short spring gave only tears nnto me ! Life but one blooming holiday can keep — For me the bloom is fled ; The silent Genius of the Darker Sleep Turns down my torch — and weep, my brethren, weep- Wcep, for the light is dead ! Upon thy bridge the shadows round me press, O dread Eternity ! And I have known no moment that can bless ; — Take back this letter meant for Happiness — The seal's unbroken — see ! Before thee, Judge, whose eyes the dark-spnn veil Conceals, my murmur came ; On this our orb a glad belief prevails, That, thine the earthly sceptre and the scales, Requiter is thy name. Terrors, they say, thou dost for Vice prepare, And joys the good shall know ; Thou canst the crooked heart unmask and bare ; Thou canst the riddle of our fate declare, And keep account witb Woe. AVith thee a home smiles for the exiled one — There ends the thorny strife. Unto my side a godlike vision won. Called Truth, (few know her, and the many shun,) And check'd the reins ofjifc. " I will repay thee in a holier land — 202 POEMS, AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Give fbon to me thy youth ; All I can grant thee lies in this command." I heard, and, trusting in a holier land, Gave my young joys to Truth. " Give me thy Laura — give me her whom Love To thy heart's core endears ; The usurer, Bliss, pays every grief — above 1 " I tore the fond shape from the bleeding love, And gave — albeit with tears ! *' What bond can bind the Dead to life once more ? Poor fool," (the scoffer cries ;) " Gull'd by the despot's hireling lie, with lore That gives for Truth a shadow ; — life is o'er ' When the delusion dies ! " ', " Tremblest thou," hiss'd the serpent-herd in scorn, " Before the vain deceit ? Made holy but by custom, stale and worn. The phantom Gods, of craft and folly bom — The sick world's solemn cheat ? What is this Future underneath the stone ? But for the veil that hides, revered alone; The giant shadow of our Terror, thrown On Conscience' troubled glass — Life's lying likeness — in the dreary shroud Of the cold sepulchre — Embalm' d by Hope — Time's mummy, — which the proud Delirium, driv'ling through thy reason's cloud, Galls ' Immortality ! ' Giv'st thou for hope (corruption proves its lie) Sure joy that most delights us ? Six thousand years has Death reign'd tranquilly ! — Nor one corpse come to whisper those who die What after death requites us !." Along Time's, shores I saw the Season fly ; Nature herself, interr'd Among her blooms, lay dead ; to those who die There came no corpse to whisper Hope ! Still I Clung to the Godlike Word. Judge ! — All my joys to thee did I resign, All that did most delight me ; _TPE GGBS OP GREECE. 203 And now I kneel— man's scorn I scorn' d — thy shrine Have I adored — Thee only held divine — lleqniter, now requite me ! " For all my sons an equal love I know And equal each condition," Answer'd an unseen Genius — " See below, Two flowers, for all who rightly seek them, blow — The Hope and the Fkuition. He who has pluck'd the one, resign'd must see The sister's forfeit bloom : Let Unbelief enjoy — Belief must be A-11 to the chooser ; — the world's history Is the world's judgment doom. Thou hast had Hope — in thy belief thy prize — Thy bliss was centred in it : Eternity itself — (Go ask the Wise !) Never to him who forfeits, resupplies The sum struck from the Minute ! " THE GODS OF GREECE. Ye in the age gone by, Who ruled the world — a world how lovely then ! — And guided still the steps of happy men In the light leading-strings of careless joy ! Ah, flourish'd then your service of delight ! How different, oh, how different, in the day When thy sweet fanes with many a wreath were bright, O Venus Amathusia ! II. Then, through a veil of dreams Woven by Song, Truth's youthful beauty glow'd, And life's redundant and rejoicing streams Gave to tlie soulless, soul— ^where'er they flow'd Man gifted Nature with divinity To lift and link her to the breast of Love ; All things betray 'd to the initiate eye The track of gods above! 204 POEMS AND BALLADS Ol? SCHILLER. HI. Where lifeless — fix'd afar, A flaming ball to our dull sense is given, Phoebns Apollo, in his golden car, In silent glory swept the fields of heaven ! On yonder hill the Oread was adored. In yonder tree the Dryad held her home ; And from her Urn the gentle Naiad pour'd The wavelet's silver foam. IV. Yon bay, chaste Daphne wreathed, Yon stone was mournful Niobe's mute cell, Low through yon sedges pastoral Syrinx breathed. And through those groves wail'd the sweet Philomel, The tears of Ceres swell'd in yonder rill — Tears shed for Proserpine to Hades borne ; And, for her lost Adonis, yonder hill Heard Cytherea mourn ! — v. Heaven's shapes were charm'd unto The mortal race of old Deucalion ; Pyrrha's fair daughter, humanly to woo, Came down, in shepherd-guise, Latona's son. Between Men, Heroes, Gods, harmonious then Love wove sweet links and sympathies divine ; Blest Amathusia, Heroes, Gods, and Men, Equals before thy shrine ! yi. Not to that culture gay, Stern self-denial, or sharp penance wan ! Well might each heart be happy in that day — ■ For Gods, the Happy Ones, were kin to Man ! The Beautiful alone the Holy there ! No pleasure shamed the Gods of that young race So that the chaste CamoensD favouring were, And the subduing Grace I THE GODS OF GREECE. 205 VII. A palaco every shrine : Your very sports heroic ; — Yours the crown Of contests hallow'd to a power divine, As rnsh'd the chariots thund'ring to renown. Fair round the altar where the incense breathed, Moved your melodious dance inspired ; and fair Above victorious brows, the garland wreathed Sweet leaves round odorous hair ! VIII. The lively Thyrsus- swinger, And the wild car the exulting Panthers bore. Announced the Presence of the Rapture- B ringer — Bounded the Satyr and blithe Paun before ; And Msenads, as the frenzy stung the soul, Hymn'd in the madding dance, the glorious wine- As ever beckon'd to the lusty bowl The ruddy Host divine ! IX. Before the bed of death No ghastly spectre stood — ^but from the porch Of life, the lip — one kiss inhaled the breath. And the mute graceful Genius lower'd a torch. The judgment-balance of the Realms below, A judge, himself of mortal lineage, held ; The very Furies at the Thracian's woe, Were moved and music-speird. la the Elysian grove The shades renew'd the pleasures life held dear The faithful spouse rejoin'd remember'd love, And rush'd along the meads the charioteer ; There Linus pour'd the old accustom'd strain ; Admetus there Alccstis still could greet ; his Friend there once more Orestes could regain, His arrows — Philoctetes ! 206 POEMS AND BALLAPS OF SCHILLER, XI. More glorious tlien the meeds That in their strife with labour nerved the brave, To the great doer of renowned deeds, The Hebe and the Heaven the Thunderer gave. Before the rescued Rescuer * of the dead, Bow'd down the silent and Immortal Host ; And the Twin Stars f their guiding lustre shed, On the bark tempest-tost ! XII. Art thou, fair world, no more ? Return, thou virgin-bloom on ITature's face ; Ah, only on the Minstrel's magic shore. Can we the footstep of sweet Fable trace ! The meadows mourn for the old hallowing life ; Vainly we search the earth of gods bereft ; Where once the warm and living shapes were rife, Shadows alone are left ! XIII. Cold, from the North, has gone Over the Flowers the Blast that kill'd their May ; And, to enrich the worship of the One, A Universe of Gods must pass away ! Mourning, I search on yonder starry steeps. But thee no more, Selene, there I see ! And through the woods I call, and o'er the deeps, And — Echo answers me ! XIV. Deaf to the joys she gives — Blind to the pomp of which she is possest — Unconscious of the spiritual Power that lives Around, and rules her — by our bliss unblest — * Hercules, who recovered from the Shades Alcestis, after she had given her own life to save her husband Admctus. Alcestis in the hands of Euripides (that woman-hater as he is called !) becomes the loveliest female creation in the Greek Drama. t i. e. Castor and Pollux are transfeiied to the Stars, Hercules to Olyinpus, for their deeds on earth. / THE ARTISTS. 207 Dull to the Art tliat colours or creates, Like the dead timepiece, Godless Nature creeps Her plodding round, and, by the leaden weights, The slavish motion keeps. XV. To-morrow to receive New life, she digs her proper grave to-day ; And icy moons with weary sameness weave From their own light their fulness and decay. Home to the Poet's Land the Grods are llown, Light use in them that later world discerns, Which, the diviner leading-strings outgrown, On its own axle turns. XVI. Home ! and with them are gone The hues they gaz'd on and the tones they heard ; Life's Beauty and life's Melody : — alone Broods o'er the desolate void the lifeless Word ; Yet rescued from Time's deluge, still they throng Unseen the Pindus they were wont to cherish : Ah, that which gains immortal life in Song, To mortal life must perish ! THE ARTISTS. This justly ranks amongst Schiller's noblest Poems. He confessed 'HhaV Le had hitherto written nothing that so much pleased him— notliing to which he had given so much time." * It forms one of the many Pieces he has devoted to the progress of Man. "The Eleusinian Festival" records the social benefits of Agriculture ; " The Four Ages" panegyrises the influ- ence of Poetry in all times; "The Walk" traces, in a scries of glowing pictures, the development of general civilisation; the "Lay of the Bell" commemorates the stages of Life; and "The Artists," by some years the earliest of the Scries, is an elaborate exposition of the effect of Art upon the Happiness and Dignity of the Human Species— a lofty Hymn in lionom* of Intellectual Beauty. Herein are collected into a symmetrical and somewhat argumentative whole, many favourite ideas of Schiller, A^'hich the reader will recognise as scattered throughout Ms other effusions. About the time when this Poem was composed, the nan-ow notions of a certain School of miscalled Utilitarians were more prevalent than they deserved ; and this fine composition is perhaps the most eloquent answer ever given to thos» Hinrielis, 208 POEMS AND BALLADS OP SCHILLER. thinkers, who have denied the Morality of Fiction, and considered Poets rather the Perverters than the Teachers of the World. Perhaps in his just Defence of Art, Schiller has somewhat underrated the dignity of Science ; hut so many small Philosophers have assailed the divine uses of Poetry, that it may be pardoned to the Poet to vindicate his Art in somewhat too arrogant a tone of retaliation. And it may be fairly contended that Fiction (the several forms of which are comprehended under the name of Art) has exercised an earlier, a more comprehensive, and a more genial influence over the Civilisation and the Happiness of Man, than nine tenths of that in- vestigation of Facts which is the pursuit of Science. The_ Poem, in the original, is written in lines of irregular length, the imitation of which — considering the nature and the length of the piece- would probahly displease in an English version. Occasionally too (for Schiller in all his philosophical Poems is apt to incur the fault of obscurity, from which his poems of sentiment and narrative are generally free,) it has been judged necessary somewhat to expand and paraphrase the sehse — to translate the idea as well as the words. But though, verbally, the Trans- lation may be more free than most others in this collection, yet no less pains have been taken to render the version true to the spirit and intention of the Author. For the clearer exposition of the train of thought which Schiller pursues, the Poem has been divided into sections, and the Argument of the whole prefixed. If any passages in the version should appear obscure to those readers who find the mind of Schiller worth attentive Study, even when deprived of the melodious language which clothed its thoughts, by referring to the Argument the sense will perhaps become sufficiently clear. AEGUMENT. Sect. 1 . — Man regarded in his present palmy state of civilisation — free through Eeason, strong through Law — ^the Lord of Nature. (2) But let him not forget his gratitude to Art, which found him the Savage, and by which his powers have heen developed — his soul refined. Let him not degenerate from serving Art, the Queen— to a preference for her handmaids (the Sciences). The Bee and the "Worm excel him in diligence and mechanical craft — the Seraph in knowledge — hut Art is Man's alone. (3) It is through the Beautiful that Man gains the Intuition of Law and Knowledge. (4) The supposed discoveries of Philosophy were long before revealed as symbols to Feeling. Virtue charmed and Vice revolted, before the Laws of Solon. (5) That Goddess wliich in Heaven is Urania — the great Deity whom only pure Spirits can behold, descends to earth as the earthly Venus— viz. the Beautiful. She adapts herself to the childlike understanding. But what we now only adore as Beauty we shall, one day, recognise as Truth, (6) After the Fall of Man, this Goddess — viz. the Beautiful— (comprehending Poetry and Art) alone deigned to console him, and painted on the walls of his Dungeon the Shapes of Elysium. (7) While Men only worshipped the Beautiful, no Fanaticism hallowed Persecution and Homicide — without formal Law, without compulsion, they obeyed Virtue rather as an instinct than a Duty. (8) Those dedicated to her service (viz. the Poet and the Artist) hold the highest intellectual rank Man can obtain. (9) Before Art introduced its own symmetry and method into the world, all was chaos. (10) You, the Artists, contemplated Nature, and learned to imitate; you observed the light shaft of the cedar, the shadow on the wave. (11) Thus rose the first Column of the Sculptor — the first Design of the Painter — and the M'ind sighing through the reed suggested the first Music. (12) Art's first attempt was in the first choice of flowers for a posy ; its second, the weaving of those flowers into a garland — i. e. Art first observes and selects — next blends and unites — the column is ranged with other columns — the indi- THE ARTISTS. 209 vidual Hero becomes one of uu heroic army — the rude Song becomes an Iliad. (13) The effect produced by Homeric Song, in noble emulation, — nor in this alone ; Man learns to live in ether woes than his own — to feel pleasures beyond animal enjoyments. fl4) And as this diviner iatellectual leeluig is developed, arc developed also Thought and Civilisation. (15) In the rudest state of Alan, you, the Artists, recognise in his breast the spiritual germ, and warm it into life — true and holy Love awoke with the first Shepherd's Ioa^c song. (IG) It is you, the Artists, who generalising, and abstracting, gather all several excellences into one ideal. — You thus familiarise Man to the notion of the Unkno\vn Powers, Avhom you invest with the attributes ^lan admires and adores. — He fears the Unkno>\Ti, but he loves its shadow. — You suffered the Nature around him to suggest the Prototype of all Beauty. (17) You make subject to your ends — the passion, the duty, and the instinct —All that is scattered tlu'ough creation you gather and conccnti'ate, and resolve to the Song or to the Stage — Even the murderer who has escaped justice, conscience-stricken by the Eumenides on the scene, reveals himself — Long before Philosophy hazarded its dogmas an Iliad solved the riddles of Fate — And with the wain of Thespis wandered a ProAddence. (18) Where vour symmetry, your design fail in this world, they extend into the world beyond the grave — If life be over too soon for the brave and good, Poetry imagined the Shades beloAv, and placed the hero Castor amongst the Stars.* (19) Not contented with bcsto-ssing immortality on Man — yon furnish forth from :Man, the ideal of the Immortals — Yirgin Beauty groAvs into a Pallas — manly Strength into a Jove. (20) As the world without you is thus enlarged and the world witliin you agitated and cniiched, your Art extends to Philo- sophy : — For as the essentials of Art are symmetry and design, so the Artist extends that symmetry and that design into the system of Creation, the Laws of Nature, the Government of the "World ; — Lends to the spheres its own harmony — to the Universe its own symmetric method. (21) The Ai-tist thus recognising Contrivance everywhere, feels his life surrounded with Beauty — He has before him in Nature itself an eternal model of the Perfect and Consummate — Thi-ough joy — grief — terroi- — wherever goes his course — one stream of harmony munnurs by his side — The Graces are his companions — his life glides away amidst aiiy shapes of Beauty — His soul is merged in the divine ocean that flows around him. Fate itself which is reduced from Chance and Providence, and which furnishes him with themes of pleasurable awe, docs not daunt him. (22) You, Artists, are the sweet and trusty com- panions of life — Yoi gave us what life has best — Your reward is your own immoi-tality and the gratitude of Men's hearts. (23) You are the imitators of the Divine Artist, who accompanies power with sweetness, teiTor with splendour, who adorns himself even in destroying — As a brook that reflects the evening landscape, so on the niggard stream of life shimmers Poetry. You load us on, in marriage garments, to the Unknown Bourne — As your Urns deck our bones your fair semblances deck our cares. — Through the history of the world, we find that Humanity smiles in your presence and mourns in your absence. (24) Humanity came young from your hands, and wlicn it grew old and decayed, you gave it a second youth — Time has bloomed twice from seeds sown by Art. (25) When the Barbarians chased Civilisation from Greece, you transplanted it to Italy — and, with Civilisation, fi-cedom and gentle manners — Yet you sought not public rewards for your l)ublic benefits — In obscurity you contemplated the blessings you had diffused. (26) If the Plulosopher now pursues liis course without obstacles — if he now * To the Poet we are indebted for the promise of another life (foreshadow- ing Divine llevelation) long before the Philosopher bcwiWercd us by arguing for it. 210 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEK. would arrogate tlie crown, and hold Ai-t but as the first Slave to Science- pardon his vain boast. — Completion and Perfection in reality rest mth you. — "With you dawned the Spring, in you is matured the Harvest, of the Moral World. (27) For although Art sprung first from physical materials, the clay and the stone — it soon also embraced in its scope the spiritual and intellectual — Even what Science discovers only ministers to Art. — The Philosopher obtains his first hints from the Poet or Artist— and when his wisdom flowers, as it were, into beauty — it but returns to the service, and is applied to the uses of its instructor. — ^Whcn the Philosopher contemplatcl4i POEMS ANP BALLADS OF SCHILLER. IX. Ere yet iinto tlie early world tlie Law Of the harmonious Symmetry, which all Essence and life now joyously obey, Your Art divinely gave — wall'd round with Night And Chaos, gloomier for one sickly ray, Man struggled with the uncouth shapes of awe, That through the Dark came giant on the sight, And chained the senses in a slavish thrall : Rude as himself press'd round the shadowy throng, Vast without outline, without substance, strong ; So gloom'd Creation on the Savage Breast, While brutal lusts alone allured the eye, And unenjoy'd, unheeded, and unguest. The lovely soul of Nature pass'd him by, — X. Lo, as it pass'd him, with a noiseless hand, And with a gentle instinct, the fair shade Ye seiz'd ; and linked in one harmonious band The airy images your eyes survey'd ; Ye felt, surveying, how the cedar gave Its light shaft to the air ; — how sportive, play'd The form reflected on the crystal wave ! How could ye fail the gentle hints to read With which free Nature met ye on the way ? By easy steps did eye observant lead The hand to mimick the fair forms at play. Till from the image on the water glass'd The likeness rose — and Painting grew at lasfc ! Yea, from the substance sever'd, Nature's fair And phantom shadow — follow'd by the soul, Cast itself on the silver stream, and there Rendered its coyness to the hand that stole ! *So born the craft that imitates and takes Shape from the shadow ; — so young Art awakes The earliest genius ; — so in clay and sand The shade is snatch'd at by the eager hand ; The sweet enjoyment in the labour grows. And from your breast the first creation flows. * See Argument. THE ARTISTS. iJ15 XI. Seized by the power of tlionghtful contemplation, Snared by the eye that steals wlia* it surveys, Nature, the talisman of each creation With which her spells enamour yju, betrays : Your quicken'd sense, the wondei -working laws, The stores in Beauty's treasnre-honse, conceives — Your hand from Nature the light outline draws, And scattered hints in gentle uniou weaves. Thus rise — tall Obelisk, and vast Pyramid — The half-formed Hermes grows — the Column springs ; Music comes lisping from the Shepherd's reed, And Song the valour and the victory sings. XII. The happier choice of flowers most sweet or fair, To weave the posy for some Shepherd Maid, Lo the first Art, from nature born, is there ! — The next — the flowers the careless tresses braid In garlands wreath'd : — Thus step by step ascends The Art that notes, and gathers, shapes and blends ! But, each once blent with each, its single grace Each offspring of the Beautiful must lose ; The artful hand according each its place, Confounds the separate with the common hues. Charm'd into method by the harmonious word, Column with column ranged — proud Fanes aspire. The Hero melts amidst the Hero herd. And peals the many-stringed Mseonian Lyre. XIII. Soon round this new Creation in great Song Barbarian wonder gather'd and believed ; " See," cried the emulous and kindled throng, " The deeds a Mortal like ourselves achieved ! " Grouped into social circles near and far. Listing the wild tales of the Titan war, Of giants piled beneath the rocks, — and caves Grim with the lion some stout hero braves. Still while the Minstrel sung, the listeners grow Themselves the Heroes his high fancy drew. 216 POEMS AND BALLADS 01^ SCHILLER. Then first did Men the sours enjoyment find, First knew the cahner raptures of the mind Not proved by sense — but from the distance brought ; The joy at deeds themselves had never wrought, — The thirst for what possession cannot give, — The power in nobler lives than life to live ! XIV. Now from the Sensual Slumber's heavy chain, Breaks the fair soul, which new-born pinions buoy, And, freed by you, the ancient Slave of Pain Springs from his travail to the breast of Joy ; Fall the dull Animal-Barriers round him wrought, On his clear front the Human halo glows, -^ And forth the high Majestic Stranger — Thought, Bright from the startled brain, a Pallas, goes ! Now stands sublime The Man, and to the star Lifts his unclouded brow — The Kingly One ; And Contemplation, sweeping to the Far, Speaks in the eyes commercing with the Sun. Fair from his cheeks bloom happy smiles, and all The rich varieties of soulful sound Unfold in Song — divine emotions call Sweet tears to feeling eyes ; — and, sister-bound. Kindness and Mirth upon his accents dwell, Soul, like some happy Nymph, haunting the lips' pure well! XV. Yea, what though buried in the mire and clay Grovels the fleshly instinct of the worm ; What though the lusts and ruder passions sway And clasp him 'round — the intellectual germ You, Sons of Art, in that dark breast behold. Warm from its sleep and into bloom unfold : — Love's spiritual blossom opened to the day, First — when Man heard the first young Shepherd's lay. Ennobled by the dignity of Thought, Passion that blush'd the soft desire to own. Caught chaster language from the Minstrel's tone ; THE ARTISTS. 217 And Song, tho delicate Preacher, wliilo it taught A love outlasting what the senses sought, Beyond Possession placed the ethereal goal, And to the Heart proclaimed and link'd the Soul ! XVI. The wisdom of the wise, tho gentleness The gentle know — the strength that nerves the strong— The grace that gathers round the noble — yes Ye blend them all to limn the Beautiful, Each ray on Nature's brows commixed and grown Into one pomp — a halo for your own ! Though from the Unknown Divinity, the awe Of Man shrinks back — to what he knows no dull, Yet with what love his young religion saw The shadow of the Godhead downward thrown ; * Gentle the type — though fearful the Unknown, The breasts of heroes nobly burn'd to vie With the bright Gods that rul'd in Homer's sky ; Ye did the Ideal from the Natural call — Ye bade Man learn how on the Earth is given The immemorial prototype of all Glory and Beauty, dream'd of for the Heaven ! XVII. Tho wild tumultuous passions of the soul, The playful gladness of unfctter'd joy. The duty and the instinct — your control Grasps at its will — can as its slaves employ To guide the courses, and appoint the goal ; All that in restless Nature's mighty space Wander divided — world on world afar — Ye seize — ye gather, fix them into place. And show them bright and living as they are, Link'd into order stately and serene, Limn'd in the song, or mirror'd on the scene ! * i. e. Man shrinks in awe from the notion of a Diviner Power, thoroughly unknown ; but the Greek Mythology familiarised Man to the providence of the Gods, and elevated him by the contemplation of attributes in which he recognised whatever he most admired. — Art taught Man to see in the Nature round him the prototype — the ideal — of Diviner Beauty, 218 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Here, secret Murder, pale and sHnddering, sees Sweep o'er the stage the stern Enmenides ; * Owns, where Law fails, what powers to Art belong. And, screen'd from Justice, finds its doom in Sor.g ! Long ere the wise their slow decrees revolved, A fiery Iliad Fate's dark riddles solved ; And Art, the Prophetess, Heaven's mystic plan Of doom and destiny reveal'd to Man, When the rude goat-song spell' d the early Age, And Providence,t spoke low from Thespis' wandering stage. XVIII. Nay, where in this world. Reason paus'd perplext, Ye track*d God onward, and divined the next X Full early wont to comprehend and meet Harmonious systems never incomplete, What though the vain impatient eye might fail To pierce the dark Fate through the solemn veil — Though the brave heart seem'd prematurely still'd, And life's fair circle halted unfulfilled. Yet here, ev'n here, your own unaided might Flung its light Arch across the waves of Night ; Led the untrembling Spirit on to go Where dark Avernus, wailing, winds below ; Bade Hope survive the Urn and Charnel, brave In the great faith of Life beyond the grave ; * The Poet here seems to allude to the Story of Ibycus, Avhich at a sub- sequent period furnished the theme of one of his happiest narratives, t In the Drama the essentials are Providence and Design. X " Doch in den grossen Weltenlauf AVard euer Ebcnmaass zu friih getragen." These lines are extremely obscure. Unless we may construe "zu frlih," ''^very early," or "with bold prematurity." In which case, referring ta the conclusion of the preceding stanza, the sense would be— That the Poet did not confine the operations of a recompensing Providence to the limited exhibitions of the Thespian wain ; but, even in the infancy of society, and with a boldness which might be considered premature, ventured to transfer them to the greater stage of the actual world, and to claim compensation beyond the grave for heroic lives inevitably cut short before they had ful- filled their career. The Poet's necessary love of symmetry and system (of which justice is a part) compels him to carry on the life which fails of result and comuletion nere, to fulfilment in a life hereafter. THE ARTISTS. 219 Show'd there — how Love the lov'd once more could win — How Dorian Castor gained liis starry Twin — The Shadow in the Moon's pale glimmer seen, Kre yet she fills her horns, and rounds her orb serene ! XIX. High, and more high, the aspiring Genius goes. And still creation from creation flows ; What in the natural world but charms the eyes, In Art's — to forms which awe the soul must rise ; The Maiden's majesty, at Art's commands, Inspires the marble, and — Athene stands ! The strength that nerves the Wrestler on the sod Swells the vast beauty which invests a God, And throned in Elis — wonder of his time — With brows that sentence worlds — sits Phidian Jove sub- lime ! XX. Without — the World by diligent toil transformed, Within — by new-born passions roused the heart, (Strengthened by each successive strife that stormed) Wider and wider grows your realm of Art. Still in each step that Man ascends to light He bears the Art that first inspired the flight ; And still the teeming Nature to his gaze. The wealth he gives her with new worlds repays. Thus the light Victories exercise the mind, By guess to reach what knowledge fails to find, Practised — throughout the Universe to trace An Artist- whole of beauty and of grace. He sets the Columns Nature's boundary knows. Tracks her dark course, speeds with her where she goes ; Weighs with the balance her own hands extend ; Meets with the gauge her own perfections lend. Till all her beauty renders to his gaze The charm that robes it and the law that sways. In self-delighted Joy the Artist hears His own rich harmony enchant the spheres, And in the Universal Scheme beholds The symmetry that reigns in all he moulds. UO POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER, XXI. Yes, in all ronnd Mm can his ear divine The voice that tells of method and design ; He sees the life mid which his lot is thrown, Clasp'd round with beauty as a golden zone ; In all his works, before his emulous eyes, To lead to victory, fair Perfection flies : Where'er he hears, or gay Delight rejoice, Or Care to stillness breathe its whispered voice, Where starry Contemplation lingers slow, Or stream from heavy eyes the tears of Woe, Or Terror in her thousand shapes appal ; — Still one harmonious Sweetness glides through all, Soft to his ear, and freshening to his look. And winding on through earth — one haunting music brook ! In the refined and still emotion, glide With chastened mirth the Graces to his side ; Round him the bright Companions weave their dance; And as the curving lines of Beauty flow, Each winding into each, as o'er his glance The lovely apparitions gleam and go In delicate outline — so the dreaming day Of Life, enchanted, breathes itself away. His soul is mingled with the Harmonious Sea That flows around his sense delightedly ; And Thought, where'er with those sweet waves it glide, Bears the all-present Venus on the tide ! At peace with Fate serenely goes his race — Here guides the Muse, and there supports the Grace ; The stern Necessity, to others dim With Night and Terror, wears no frown for him : Calm and serene, he fronts the threatened dart. Invites the gentle bow, and bares the fearless heart. XXII. Darlings of Harmony divine, — all blest Companions of our Beings ! — whatsoe'er Is of this life, the dearest, noblest, best, Took life from you ! If Man his fetters bear THE AUTISTS. 221 Witli a glad heart tliat chafes not at the chain, But clings to duty with the thoughts of love j If now no more ho wander in the reign Of iron Chance, but with the Power above Link his harmonious being — what can be Your bright reward ? — your Immortality, And your own heart's high recompense ! If round The chalice-fountain, whence, to Mortals, streams Tlie Ideal Freedom, evermore are found The godlike Joys and pleasure-weaving Dreams ; — For this — for these — be yours the grateful shrine. Deep in the Human Heart ye hallow and refine. XXIII. Ye are the Imitators, ye the great Disciples of the Mighty Artist — who Zoned with sweet grace the iron form of Fate — Gave Heaven its starry lights and tender blue — Whose terror more ennobles than alarms (Its awe exalts us, and its grandeur charms) — Who, ev'n destroying, while he scathes, illumes, And clothes with pomp the anger that consumes. As o'er some brook that glides its lucid way The dancing shores in various shadow play ; As the smooth wave a faithful mirror yields To Eve's soft blush, and flower- enamell'd fields ; So, on life's stream, that niggard steals along. Shimmers the lively Shadow- World of Song. Ye, to the Dread Unknown — the dismal goal Where the stern Fates await the trembling soul — Ye lead us on, by paths for ever gay. And robed with joy as for a marriage-day ; And as in graceful urns your genius decks Our very bones, and beautifies the wrecks : So with appearances divinely fair, Ye veil the trouble and adorn the care. Search where I will the ages that have roll'd, The unmeasured Past, Earth's immemorial lore. How smil'd Humanity, where ye consoled. How smileless mourned Humanity before I 232 rOEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. XXIV. All strong and mighty on the wing, and young And fresli from your creative hands, It * sprung ; And when the Time, that conquers all, prevail'd ; When on its wrinkled cheek the roses f ail'd ; When from its limbs the vigour pass'd away, And its sad age crept on in dull decay, And tottered on its crutch ; — within your arms It sought its shelter and regained its charms : Out from your fresh and sparkling well, ye pour'd The living stream that dying strength restored ; Twice into spring has Time's stern winter glow'd, Twice Nature blossom'd from the seeds Art sow'd. XXV. Ye snatch'd — when chased Barbarian Hosts before— From sacred hearths the last yet living brand ; From the dishallow'd Orient Altar bore, And brought it glimmering to the Western Land. As from the East the lovely Exile goes. Fair on the West a young Aurora glows ; And all the flowers Ionian shores could yield Blush forth, re-blooming in the Hesperian Field. Fair Nature glass'd its image on the Soul, From the long Mght the mists began to roll j And o'er the world of Mind, adorn'd again. Light's holy Goddess re-assumed her reign. Loos'd from the Millions fell the fetters then — Slaves heard the Voice that told their rights as Men. And the Young Race in peace to vigour grew, In that mild brotherhood they learn'd from you 1 And you, averse the loud applause to win, Still in the joy that overflow'd within. Sought the mild shade, contented to survey The World ye brighten'd, basking in the ray. XXVI. If on the course of Thought, now barrier-free, Sweeps the glad search of bold Philosophy ; * i. e, Humanity. THE ARTISTS. 223 And with sclf-peeans, and a vain renown, Would claim the praise and arrogate the crown, Holding, but as a Soldier in her band, The nobler Art that did in truth command; And gi'ants, beneath her visionary throne, To Art, her Queen — the slave's first rank alone ; — Pardon the vaunt ! — For you Perfection all Her star- gems weaves in one bright coronal ! With you, the first blooms of the Spring, began Awakening Nature in the Soul of Man ! With you f Lilfill'd, when Nature seeks repose, Autumn's exulting harvests ripely close. XXVII. If Art rose plastic from the stone and clay, To Mind from Matter ever sweeps its sway ; Silent, but conquering in its silence, lo. How o'er the Spiritual World its triumphs go ! What in the Land of Knowledge, wide and far. Keen Science teaches — for you discovered are : First in your arms the wise their wisdom learn — They dig the mine you teach them to discern ; And when that wisdom ripens to the flower And crowning time of Beauty — to the Power From whence it rose, new stores it must impart, The toils of Science swell the Wealth of Art. When to one height the Sage ascends with you, A^nd spreads the Vale of Matter round his view In the mild twilight of serene repose ; The more the Artist charms, the more the Thinker knows. The more the shapes — in intellectual joy, Link'd by the Genii which your spells employ, The more the thought with the emotion blends — • The more up-buoy'd by both the Soul ascends To loftier Harmonies, and heavenlier things; — And tracks the stream of Beauty to its springs. The lovely members of the mighty whole. Till then confused and shapeless to his soul — Distinct and glorious grow upon his sight, The fau' enigmas brighten from the Night ; 224 POEMS AND BALLADS 0:^* SCHILLER. More ricli the Universe his thoughts enclose — More wide the Ocean with whose wave he flows ; The wrath of Fate grows feebler to his fears, As from God's Scheme Chance wanes and disappears; And as each straining impulse soars above — How his pride lessens — how augments his love ! So scattering blooms — the still Guide — Poetry Leads him thro' paths, tho' hid, that mount on high — Thro' forms and tones more pure and more sublime — Alp upon Alp of Beauty — till the time When what we long as Poetry have nurst, Shall as a God's swift inspiration burst, And flash in glory, on that youngest day — One with the Truth to which it wings the way ! XXVIII. She, the soft Venus of the Earth, by Men "Worshipp'd but as the Beautiful till then, Shall re-assume her blazing coronal. Let the meek veil that shrouds her splendour fall. And to her ripen'd Son * divinely rise In her true shape — the Urania of the skies ! Proportion'd to the Beauty which Man's soul Took from her culture while in her control. Shall he, with toilless, lightly- wooing ease. Truth in the Beautiful embrace and seize. Thus sweet, thus heavenly, w^as thy glad surprise, Son of Ulysses, when before thine eyes. Bright from the Mentor whom thy youth had known, Jove's radiant child — Imperial Pallas — shone ! XXIX. Sons of Art ! into your hands consign'd (0 heed the trust, heed it and revere !) The liberal dignity of human kind ! With you to sink, with you to re-appear. The hallow'd melody of Magian Song Does to Creation as a link belong, Blending its music with God's harmony. As rivers melt into the mighty sea. * Miindigen,— her Son, who has attained his majority. THE ARTISTS. ^25 XXX. , ^-- Truth, when the Age she would reform, expels : Flies for safe refuge to the Muse's cells. More fearful for the veil of charms she takes, From Song the fulness of her splendour breaks, And o'er the Foe that persecutes and quails Her vengeance thunders, as the Bard prevails I XXXI. Kise, ye free Sons of the Free Mother, rise. Still on the Light of Beauty, sun your eyes. Still to the heights that shine afar, aspire, Nor meaner meeds than those she gives, desire. If here the Sister Art forsake awhile. Elude the clasp, and vanish from the toil. Go seek and find her at the Mother's heart — Go search for Nature — and arrive at Art ! Ever the Perfect dwells in whatsoe'er Fair souls conceive and recognise as fair ! Borne on your daring pinions soar sublime Above the shoal and eddy of the Time. Far-glimmering on your wizard mirror, see The silent shadow of the Age to be. Thro' all Life's thousand-fold entangled maze, One godlike bourne your gifted sight surveys — Thro' countless means one solemn end, foreshown, The labyrinth closes at a single Throne. As in seven tints of variegated light Breaks the lone shimmer of the lucid white ; As the seven tints that paint the Iris bow Into the lucid white dissolving flow — So Truth in many-coloured splendour plays, — ■ Now on the eye enchanted with the rays — Now in one lustre gathers every beam. And floods the World with light — a single Stream ! * * There Ib exquisite skill in concluding the Poem (after insisting so eloquently upon the maxim, that whatever Science discovers, only adds to the stores, or serves the purpose of Art) with an image borrowed from fcjcience. 2:ie POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. THE CELEBRATED WOMAN. AN EPISTLE BY A MARRIED MAN — TO A FELLOW-SUFFERER. [In spite of Mr. Caiiyle's assertion of Schiller's "total deficiency in Humour,"* we think that the following Poem suffices to show that he possessed the gift in no ordinary degree, and that if the aims of a genius 80 essentially earnest had allowed him to indulge it, he Avould have justi- fied the opinion of the experienced Iffland as to his capacities for original comedy.] Can I, my friend, with tliee condole ? — Can I conceive the woes that try men, When late Repentance racks the soul Ensnared into the toils of Hymen ? Can I take part in such distress ? — Poor Martyr, — most devontly, " Yes ! " Thon weep'st because thy Sponse has flown To arms preferred before thine own ; — A faithless wife, — I grant the curse, — And yet, my friend, it might be worse ! Just hear Another's tale of sorrow, And, in comparing, comfort borrow ! What ! dost thou think thyself undone, Because thy rights are shared with One ! O, Happy Man — be more resign' d. My wife belongs to all Mankind ! My wife — she's found abroad — at home ; But cross the Alps and she's at Rome ; Sail to the Baltic — there you'll find her ; Lounge on the Boulevards — kind and kinder : In short, you've only just to drop Where'er they sell the last new tale, And, bound and lettered in the shop, You'll find my Lady up for sale ! She must her fair proportions render To all whose praise can glory lend her ; — Within the coach, on board the boat, Let every pedant " take a note ; " Endure, for public approbation, Each critic's " close investigation,'* * Carlyle's Miscellanies, yol, iii. p. 47. THE CELEBRATED WOMAN. 227 And brave — nay coart it as a flattery — Each spectacled Philistine's battery. Just as it suits some scurvy carcase In which she hails an Aristarchus, Ready to fly with kindred souls, O'er blooming flowers or burning coals, To fame or shame, to shrine or gallows, Let him but lead — sublimely callous ! A Leipsic man — (confound the wretch !) Has made her Topographic sketch, A kind of Map, as of a Town, Each point minutely dotted down ; Scarce to myself I dare to hint What this d — d fellow wants to print ! Thy wife — howe*er she slight the vows — Respects, at least, the name of spouse ; But mine to regions far too high For that terrestrial Name is carried ; My wife's " The famous Ninon ! " — I " The Gentleman that Ninon married ! " It galls you that you scarce are able To stake a florin at the table — Confront the Pit, or join the Walk, But straight all tongues begin to talk ! O that such luck could me befal, Just to be talked about at all ! Behold me dwindling in my nook, Edg'd at her left, — and not a look ! A sor^ of rushlight of a life, Put V. at by that great Orb — my Wife ! Scarce is the Morning grey — before Postman and Porter crowd the door ; No Premier has so dear a levcc — She finds the Mail- bag half its trade ; My God — the parcels are so heavy ! And not a parcel carriage-paid ! But then — the truth must be confessed— They're all so charmingly addressed : Whate'cr they cost, they well requite her — ^28 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. " To Madame Blank, The Famous Writer ! " Poor thing, she sleeps so soft ! and yet 'Twere worth my life to spare her slumber ; " Madame — from Jena — the Gazette — The Berlin Journal— the last number ! " Sudden she wakes ; those eyes of blue (Sweet eyes !) fall straight — on the Review ! I by her side — all undetected. While those curs'd columns are inspected ; Loud squall the children overhead, Still she reads on, till all is read : At last she lays that darling by, And asks — " What makes the Baby cry ? *' Already now the Toilet's care Claims from her couch the restless fair ; The Toilet's care ! — the glass has won Just half a glance, and all is done ! A snappish — pettish word or so Warns the poor Maid 'tis time to go : — Not at her toilet wait the Graces, Uncombed Erynnys takes their places ; So great a mind expands its scope Far from the mean details of — soap ! Now roll the coach- wheels to the muster — Now round my Muse her votaries cluster ; Spruce Abbe Millefleurs — Baron Herman — The English Lord, who don't know German, — But all uncommonly well read From matchless A to deathless Z ! Sneaks in the corner, shy and small, A thing which Men the Husband call ! While every fop with flattery fires her. Swears with what passion he admires her.— " ' Passion ! ' * admire ! ' and still you're dumb 't Lord bless your soul, the worst's to come :*— I'm forced to bow, as I'm a sinner, — And hope — the rogue will stay to dinner ! But, oh, at dinner ! — there's the sting ; I see my cellar on the wing I THE CELEBRATED WOMAN". 229 Yon know if Burgnndy is dear ? — Mine once emerg'd three times a year ; — And now, to wash these learned throttles, In dozens disappear the bottles ; They well must drink who well do eat, (I've sunk a capital on meat). Her immortality, I fear, a Death-blow will prove to my Madeira ; 'T has given, alas ! a mortal shock To that old friend — my Steinberg Hock ! * If Faust had really any hand In printing, I can understand The fate which legends more than hint ; — The devil take all hands that print ! And what my thanks for all ? — a pout — Sour looks — deep sighs ; but what about ? About ! 0, that I well divine — That such a pearl should fall to swine — That such a literary ruby Should grace the finger of a booby ! Spring comes ; — behold, sweet mead and lea Nature's green splendour tapestries o'er ; Fresh blooms the flower, and buds the tree ; Larks sing — the Woodland wakes once more. The Woodland wakes — but not for her ! From Nature's self the charm has flown ; No more the Spring of Earth can stir The fond remembrance of our own ! The sweetest bird upon the bough Has not one note of music now ; And, oh ! how dull the Grove's soft shade, Where once — (as lovers then) — we stray'd ! The Nightingales have got no learning — Dull creatures — how can they inspire her? The Lilies are so undiscerning. They never say — " how they admire her ! " * Literally " Nierensteincr,"— a wine not much known in England, and scarcely — accord u)g to our experience— worth the regrets of its respectable 230 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. In all this Jubilee of being, Some subject for a point she's seeing — Some epigram — (to be impartial, Well turn'd) — there may be worse in Martial ! But, hark ! the Goddess stoops to reason : — " The country now is quite in season, I'll go ! "— ** What ! to our Country Seat ? " "No ! — Travelling will be such a treat ; Pyrmont's extremely full, I hear ; But Carlsbad's quite the rage this year ! '* Oh yes, she loves the rural Graces ; Nature is gay — in Watering-places ! Those pleasant Spas — our reigning passion — Where learned Dons meet folks of fashion ; Where — each with each illustrious soul Familiar as in Charon's boat. All sorts of Fame sit cheek-by- jowl, Pearls in that string — the Table d'Hote ! Where dames whom Man has injured — fly, To heal their wounds or to efface them ; While others, with the waters, try A course of flirting, — just to brace them ! Well, there (0 Man, how light thy woes Compared with mine — thou need'st must see !) My wife, undaunted, greatly goes — And leaves the orphans (seven ! ! !) to me ! O, wherefore art thou flown so soon. Thou first fair year — Love's Honeymoon ! Ah, Dream too exquisite for life ! Home's Goddess — in the name of Wife ! Reared by each Grace — yet but to be Man's Household Anadyomene ! With mind from which the sunbeams fall, Rejoicing while pervading all ; Frank in the temper pleased to please — Soft in the feeling waked with ease. So broke, as Native of the skies, The Heart-enthraller on my eyes ; THE CELEBRATED WOMAN. 9M So. saw I, like a Morn of May, The Playmate given to glad my way ; With eyes that more than lips bespoke, Eyes whence — sweet words — "Hove thee ! " broke ! So — Ah, what transports then were mine ! T led the Bride before the shrine ! And saw the future years revoal'd, Glass'd on my Hope — one blooming field ! More wide, and widening more, were given The Angel-gates disclosing Heaven ; Round us the lovely, mirthful troop Of children came — yet still to me The loveliest — merriest of the group The happy Mother seemed to be ! Mine, by the bonds that bind us more Than all the oaths the Priest before ; Mine, by the concord of content, When Heart with Heart is music-blent ; When, as sweet sounds in unison, Two lives harmonious melt in one ! When — sudden (0 the villain !) — came Upon the scene a Mind Profound ! — A Bel Esprit, whowhisper'd " Fame," And shook ray card-house to the ground. What have I now instead of all The Eden lost of hearth and hall ? What comforts for the Heaven bereft ? What of the younger Angel's left ? A sort of intellectual Mule, Man's stubborn mind in Woman's shape, Too hard to love, too frail to rule — A sage engrafted on an ape ! To what she calls the Realm of Mind, She leaves that throne, her sex, to crawl, The cestus and the charm resign'd — A public gaping-show to all ! She blots from Beauty's Golden Book * A Name 'mid Nature's choicest Few, To gain the glory of a nook In Doctor Dunderhead's Review. * The Golden Book. — So was entitled in some Italian States (Venice especially) the Catalogue in which the Noble Families were enrolled. 232 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. TO A FEMALE FRIEKD. (written in her album.) [These verses were addressed to Charlotte Von Lengefeld, whom Schillei afterwards married, and were intended to dissuade her from a Court life.] As some gay child, around whose steps play all The laughing Graces, plays the World round thee ! Yet not as on thy soul's clear mirror fall The flattered shadows, deem this world to be ! The silent homages thy heart compels By its own inborn dignity, — the spells That thou thyself around thyself art weaving, The charms with which thy being is so rife, — 'Tis these thou countest as the charms of life, In Human Nature, as thine own — belieying ! Alas ! this Beauty but exists, in sooth, In thine own talisman of holy youth, [Who can resist it ?] — mightiest while deceiving ? * Enjoy the lavish flowers that glad thy way. The happy ones whose happiness thou art ; The souls thou winnest — in these bounds survey Thy world ! — to this world why shouldst thou depart ? Nay, let yon flowers admonish thee and save ! Lo, how they bloom while guarded by the fence ! So plant Earth's pleasures — not too near the sense ! * The sense of the original is very shadowy and impalpable, and the difficulty of embodying it in an intelligible translation is great. It may be rendered thus : — *' The silent homage which thy nobility of heart compels, — the miracles Avhich thou thyself hast wrought,— the charms with which thy existence has invested life, — these thou lookest on as the substantial attrac- tions of life itself, and as constituting the very staple of human nature. But in this thou art mistaken. What appears to thee to be the grace and beauty of life, is but the reflection of the witchery of thine own undese- crated youth, and the talisman of thine own innocence and virtue, though these certainly are powers which no man can resist. Enjoy the flowers of life, then ; but do not take them for more than they are worth. Theirs is but a surface-beauty; let the glance, therefore, wliicli thou bostowest on them be superficial too. Gaze on them fi-om a distance, and never expect that the core of life ■will wear the same attractive hues as those which ornament its " exterior." Schiller has repeated this thought in the Poem of the "Actual and Ideal." TO A FEMALE FRIEND. 233 Nature to see, but not to pluck tliem, gave : Afar they cliarm thee — leave them on the stem ) Approached by thee, the glory fades from them — And, in thy touch, their sweetness has a grave ! Here conclude the Poems classed under the Second Period of Schiller's career; we have excepted only his translations from Virgil, FIRST PERIOD; OR, EARLY POEMS. "We now trace back the stream to its source. We commenced with Schiller's maturest Poems — we close with his earliest. The contrast between the compositions in the first and third period is sufficiently striking. In the former there is more fire and action — more of that lavish and exuberant energy which characterised the earlier tales of Lord Byron, and redeemed, in that wonderful master of animated and nervous stj^le, a certain poverty of conception by a vigour and fftisto of execution, which no English poet, per- haps, has ever surpassed. In his poems lies the life, and beats the heart, of Schiller. They conduct us through the various stages of his spiritual educa- tion, and indicate each step in the progress. In this division, eff'ori is no less discernible than power — both in language and thought there is a struggle at something not yet achieved, and not, perhaps, even yet definite and distinct to the poet himself. Here may be traced, though softened by the charm of genius (which softens all things), the splendid errors that belong to a passionate youth, and that give such distorted grandeur to the giant melodrame of "The Kobbers." But here are to be traced also, and in far clearer characters, the man's strong heart, essentially hiunan in its sym- pathies — the thoughtful and earnest intellect giving ample promise of all it was destined to receive. In these earlier poems, extravagance is sufficiently noticeable — yet never the sickly eccentricities of diseased weakness, but the exuberant overflowings of a young Titan's strength. There is a distinction, Avhich our critics do not always notice, between the extravagance of a great genius, and the affectation of a pretty poet. HEOTOR AND ANDROMACHE. [ThiB and the following poem are, with some alterations, introduced in tbo Play of " The Robbers."] ANDROMACHE. Will Hector leave me for the fatal plain, Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus slain, Stalks Pelens' ruthless son ? Who, when thon glid'st amid the dark abodes, To hurl the spear and to revere the Gods, Shall teach thine Orphan One ? HECTOR. Woman and wife beloved — cease thj tears ; My soul is nerved — the war-clang in my ears ! Be mine in life to stand Troy's bulwark ! — fighting for our hearths, to go In death, exulting to the streams below, Slain for my father-land ! AMALIA. 285 ANDROMACHE. No more I hear thy martial footsteps fall — Thine arms shall hang, dull trophies, on the wall — Fallen the stem of Troy ! Thou go'sfc where slow Cocytus wanders — where Love sinks in Lethe, and the sunless air Is dark to light and joy ! HECTOR. Longing and thought — yea, all I feel and think May in the silent sloth of Lethe sink, But my love not ! Hark, the wild swarm is at the walls ! — I hear ! Grird on my sword — Belov'd one, dry the tear — Lethe for love is not ! AMALIA. Fair as an angel from his blessed hall* — Of every fairest youth the fairest he ! Heaven-mild his look, as maybeams when they fall. Or shine reflected from a clear blue sea ! His kisses — feelings rife with paradise ! Ev'n as two flames, one on the other driven — Ev'n as two harp-tones their melodious sighs Blend in some music that seems born of heaven — So rush'd, mix'd, melted life with life united ! Lips, cheeks burn'd, trembled — soul to soul was won ! And earth and heaven seem'd chaos, as, delighted. Earth — heaven were blent round the beloved one ! Now, he is gone ! vainly and wearily Groans the full heart, the yearning sorrow flows — Grone ! and all zest of life, in one long sigh, Goes with him where ho goes. • nterally, WalhaUa. 236 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. A FUNERAL FANTASIE. Pale, at its ghastly noon, Panses above the death- still wood — the moon ; The night- sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs ; The clouds descend in rain ; Mourning, the wan stars wane, Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres ! Haggard as spectres — vision-like and dumb, Dark with the pomp of Death, and moving slow, Towards that sad lair the pale Procession come Where the Grave closes on the Night below. ir. With dim, deep-sunken eye, Crutch'd on his staff, who trembles tottering by ? As wrung from out the shatter' d heart, one groan Breaks the deep hush alone ! Crush 'd by the iron Fate, he seems to gather All life's last strength to stagger to the bier. And hearken — Do those cold lips murmur " Father ? " The sharp rain, drizzling through that place of fear, Pierces the bones gnaw'd fleshless by despair, And the heart's horror stirs the silver hair. III. Fresh bleed the fiery wounds Through all that agonizing heart undone — Still on the voiceless lips " my Father " sounds, And still the childless Father murmura " Son ! " Ice-cold — ice-cold, in that white shroud he lies — Thy sweet and golden dreams all vanish'd there — The sweet and golden name of " Father " dies Into thy curse, — ice-cold — ice-cold — he lies ! Dead, what thy life's delight and Eden were ! A FUNERAL FANTASIE. 237 IV. Mild, as when, fresh from the arms of Aurora, While the air like Elysium is smiling above, Steep'd in rose-breathing odours, the darling of Flora Wantons over the blooms on his winglets of love. — So gay, o'er the meads, went his footsteps in bliss, The silver wave mirror'd the smile of his face ; Delight, like a flame, kindled up at his kiss. And the heart of the maid was the prey of his chase. V. Boldly he sprang to the strife of the world, As a deer to the mountain-top carelessly springs ; As an eagle whose plumes to the sun are unfurl'd, Sweet his Hope round the Heaven on its limitless wings. Proud as a war-horse that chafes at the rein, That, kingly, exults in the storm of the brave ; Tbat throws to the wind the wild stream of its mane, Strode he forth by the prince and the slave ! VI. Life, like a spring-day, serene and divine, In the star of the morning went by as a trance ; His murmurs he drown'd in the gold of the wine, And his sorrows were borne on the wave of the dance. Worlds lay conceal'd in the hopes of his youth ! — When once he shall ripen to Manhood and Fame ! Fond Father exult ! — In the germs of his youth What harvests are destined for Manhood and Fame ! VIT. Not to be was that Manhood ! — The death-bell is knelling. The hinge of the death-vault creaks harsh on the ears — ilow dismal, Death, is the place of thy dwelling ! Not to be was that Manhood ! — Flow on bitter tears ! Go, beloved, thy path to the sun. Rise, world upon world, with the perfect to rest ; Go — quaff the delight which thy spirit has won. And escape from our grief in the Halls of the Blest. 238 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. VIII. Again (in that thought what a healing is found !) To meet in the Eden to which thon art fled ! — Hark, the coffin sinks down with a dnll, snllen sound, And the ropes rattle over the sleep of the dead. And we cling to each other ! — Grave, he is thine ! The eye tells the woe that is mute to the ears — And we dare to resent what we grudge to resign, Till the heart's sinful murmur is choked in its tears. Pale at its ghastly noon, Pauses above the death-still wood — the moon ! The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs : The clouds descend in rain ; Mourning, the wan stars wane. Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres. The dull clods swell into the sullen mound ! Earth, one look yet upon the prey we gave ! The Grave locks up the treasure it has found j Higher and higher swells the sullen mound — Never gives back the Grave ! FANTASIE TO LAURA. What, Laura, say, the vortex that can draw Body to body in its strong control ; Beloved Laura, what the charmed law That to the soul attracting plucks the soul ? It is the charm that rolls the stars on high, For ever round the sun's majestic blaze — When, gay as children round their parent, fly Their circling dances in delighted maze. Sfcill, every star that glides its gladsome course, Thirstily drinks the luminous golden rain ; Drinks the fresh vigour from the fiery source, As limbs imbibe life's motion from the brain j With sunny motes, the sunny motes united Harmonious lustre both receive and give. Love spheres wuth spheres still interchange delighted, Ojily through love the starry systems live. FANTASIE TO LAtJRA. 239 Take love from Nature's universe of wonder, Eacli jarring eacli, rushes the mighty All. See, back to Chaos shock'd, Creation thunder ; Weep, starry Newton — weep the giant fall ! Take from the spiritual scheme that Power away, And the still'd body shrinks to Death's abode. Never — love not — would blooms revive for May, And, love extinct, all life were dead to God. And what the charm that at my Laura's kiss, Pours the diviner brightness to the cheek ; Makes the heart bound more swiftly to its bliss, And bids the rushing blood the magnet seek ? — Out from their bounds swell nerve, and pulse, and sense, The veins in tumult would their shores o'erflow ; Body to body rapt — and, charmM thence, Soul drawn to soul with intermingled glow. Mighty alike to sway the flow and ebb Of the inanimate Matter, or to move The nerves that weave the Arachnean web Of Sentient Life — rules all-pervading Love ! Ev'n in the Moral World, embrace and meet Emotions — Gladness clasps the extreme of Care; And Sorrow, at the worst, upon the sweet Breast of young Hope, is thaw'd from its despair. Of sister-kin to melancholy Woe, Voluptuous Pleasure comes, and happy eyes Delivered of the tears, their children, glow Lustrous as sunbeams — and the Darkness flies ! * * Und entbunden von den gold'nen Kindem Strahlt das Auge Sonnenpracht. Schiller, in his carUer poems, strives after poetry in expression, as our young imitators of Shelley and Kcates do, sanctioned generally by our critics, who quote such expressions in italics with three notes of admiration ! He here, for instance, calls tears " the Golden Children of the Eye." In his later poems Schiller had a much better notion of true beauty of diction. The general meaning of this poem is very obscure, but it seems to imply that Love rules all things in tne inanimate or animate creation ; that, even in the moral world, opposite emotions or principles meet and embrace each other. The idea is pushed into an extravagance natm-al to the youth, and redeemed by the passion, of the Author. Ibut the connecting links are so slender, nay, so frequently omitted, in the original, that a certain degree of paraphrase in many of the stanzas is absolutely necessary to supply them, and render the general sense and spirit of the poem intelligible to the English reader. 2>i0 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. The same great Law of Sympathy is given To Evil as to Good, and if we swell The dark account that life incurs with Heaven, 'Tis that our Vices are thy Wooers, Hell ! In turn those Vices are embraced by Shame And fell Remorse, the twin Eumenides. Danger still clings in fond embrace to Fame, Mounts on her wing, and flies where'er she flees. Destruction marries its dark self to Pride, Envy to Fortune : when Desire most charms, 'Tis that her brother Death is by her side. For him she opens those voluptuous arms. The very Future to the Past but flies Upon the wings of Love — as I to thee ; 0, long swift Saturn, with unceasing sighs, Hath sought his distant bride, Eternity ! When — so I heard the oracle declare — When Saturn once shall clasp that bride sublime. Wide-blazing worlds shall light his nuptials there — 'Tis thus Eternity shall wed with Time. In those shall be our nuptials ! ours to share That bridenight, waken'd by no jealous sun ; Since Time, Creation, Nature, but declare Love, — in our love rejoice, Beloved One ! TO LAURA PLAYING. When o'er the chords thy fingers steal, A soulless statue now I feel, And now a soul set free ! Sweet Sovereign ! ruling over death and life — Seizes the heart, in a voluptuous strife As with a thousand strings — the Sorcery ! * Then the vassal airs that woo thee, Hush their low breath hearkening to thee. * "The Sorcery." — In the original, Schiller, with very qucstionabit, taste, compares Laura to a conjuror of tlie name of Philadelphia, who exhibited before Frederick the Great. TO LAURA PLAYING. 241 In deliglit and in devotion, Pausing from her whirling motion, Nature, in enchanted calm. Silently drinks the floating balm. Sorceress, her heart with thy tone Chaining — as thine eyes my own ! O'er the transport-tumult driven, Doth the music gliding swim ; From the strings, as from their heaven. Burst the new-born Seraphim. As when from Chaos' giant arms set free, 'Mid the Creation-storm, exultingly Sprang sparkling thro' the dark the Orbs of Light — So streams the rich tone in melodious might. Soft gliding now, as when o'er pebbles glancing, The silver wave goes dancing ; Now with majestic swell, and strong. As thunder peals in organ- tones along ; And now with stormy gush. As down the rock, in foam, the whirling torrents rush ; To a whisper now Melts it amorously, Like the breeze through the bough Of the aspen tree ; Heavily now, and with a mournful breath," Like midnight's wind along those wastes of death, Wliere Awe the wail of ghosts lamenting hears. And slow Cocytus trails the stream whose waves are tears. Speak, maiden, speak ! — Oh, art thou one of those Spirits more lofty than our region knows ? Should we in thine the mother-language seek Souls in Elysium speak ? U-Z POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. TO LAURA. (rapture.) Laura — above this world methinks I fly, And feel the glow of some May-liglited sky, When thy looks beam on mine ! And my sonl drinks a more ethereal air, When mine own shape I see reflected, there, In those blue eyes of thine ! A lyre-sonnd from the Paradise afar, A harp-note trembling from some gracious star, Seems the wild ear to fill ; And my nmse feels the Golden Shepherd-hours, When from thy lips the silver music pours Slow, as against its will I see the young Loves flutter on the wing — Move the charm'd trees, as when the Thracian's string Wild life to forests gave ; Swifter the globe's swift circle seems to fly, When in the whirling dance thou glidest by, Light as a happy wave. Thy looks, when there Love's smiles their gladness wreathe, Could life itself to lips of marble breathe. Lend rocks a pulse divine ; Reading thine eyes — my veriest life but seems Made up and fashioned from my wildest dreams, — • Laura, sweet Laura, mine ! TO LAURA. (the mystery of reminiscence.)* Who, and what gave to me the wish to woo thee — Still, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee ? Who made thy glances to my soul the link — Who bade me burn thy very breath to drink — My life in thine to sink ? * This most exquisite love-poem is founded on the Platonic notion, that souls were united in a pre- existent state, that love is the yearning of the spirit to reunite with the spirit Avith which it formerly made one — and which it discovers on earth. The idea has often been made subservient to poetry, i)ut never with so earnest and elaborate a beautv. TO LAURA. 243 As from tlie conqueror's unresisted glaive, Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slave— So, when to life's unguarded fort, I see Thy gaze draw near and near triumphantly — Yields not my soul to thee ? Why from its lord doth thus my soul depart ? — Is it because its native home thou art ? Or were they brothers in the days of yore, Twin-bound, both souls, and in the links they bore Sigh to be bound once more ? Were once our beings blent and intertwining. And therefore still my heart for thine is pining ? Knew we the light of some extinguished sun — The joys remote of some bright realm undone, Where once our souls were One ? Yes, it is so ! — And thou wert bound to me In the long-vanish'd Eld eternally ! In the dark troubled tablets which enroll The Past — my Muse beheld this blessed scroll — " One with thy love my soul ! " Oh yes, I Icarn'd in awe, when gazing there, How once one bright inseparate life we were, How once, one glorious essence as a God, Unmeasured space our chainless footsteps trod — All Nature our abode ! Round us, in waters of delight, for ever Voluptuous flow'd the heavenly Nectar river ; We were the master of the seal of things, And where the sunshine bathed Truth's mountain- springs Quiver'd our glancing wings. Weep for the godlike life we lost afar — Weep ! — thou and I its scatter'd fragments are ; And still the unconquer'd yearning we retain — Sigh to restore the rapture and the reign, And grow divine again. And therefore came to me the wish to woo thee — Still, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee ; This made thy glances to my soul the link — This made me burn thy very breath to drink — My life in thine to sink : And therefore, as before the conqueror's glaive, Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slave, E 2 244 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE So, wlien to life's unguarded fort, I see Thy gaze draw near and near triumpliantly — Yieldeth my soul to thee ! Therefore my soul doth from its lord depart, Because, beloved, its native home thou art ; Because the twins recall the links they bore, And soul with soul, in the sweet kiss of yore. Meets and unites once more ! Thou too — Ah, there thy gaze upon me dwells, And thy young blush the tender answer tells ; Yes ! with the dear relation still we thrill, Both lives — tho* exiles from the homeward hill — One life — all glowing still ! MELANCHOLY: TO LAURA. Laura ! a sunrise seems to break Where'er thy happy looks may glow, Joy sheds its roses o'er thy cheek. Thy tears themselves do but bespeak The rapture whence they flow : Blest youth to whom those tears are given- The tears that change his earth to heaven ; His best reward those melting eyes — For him new suns are in the skies ! II. Thy soul — a crystal river passing, Silver- clear, and sunbeam- glassing, Mays into bloom sad Autumn by thee ; Night and desert, if they spy thee, To gardens laugh — with daylight shine, Lit by those happy smiles of thine ! Dark with cloud the Future far Goldens itself beneath thy star. MELANCHOLY ; TO LAURA. ^45 Smil'st tlion to see the Harmony Of cliarm the laws of Nature keep ? Alas ! to me the Harmony- Brings only cause to weep I III. Holds not Hades its domain Underneath this earth of ours ? Under Palace, under Fane, Uuderneath the cloud-capt Towers ? ^ ' ately cities soar and spread O'er your mouldering bones, ye Dead ! From corruption, from decay, Springs yon clove pink's fragrant bloom ; Yon gay waters wind their way From the hollows of a tomb. IV. From the Planets thou may'st know All the change that shifts below. Fled — beneath that zone of rays. Fled to Night a thousand Mays ; Thrones a thousand — rising — sinking, Earth from thousand slaughters drinking Blood profusely pour'd as water ; — Of the sceptre — of the slaughter — Wouldst thou know what trace remaineth Seek them where the dark king reigneth ! V. Scarce thine eye can ope and close Ere Life's dying sunset glows ; Sinking sudden from its pride Into Death — the Lethe tide. Ask'st thou whence thy beauties rise ? Boastest thou those radiant eyes ? — Or that cheek in roses dy'd ? All their beauty (thought of sorrow !) From the brittle mould they borrow. Heavy interest in the tomb For the brief loan of the bloom, 246 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE. For the beauty of the Day, Death, the Usurer, thou must pay. In the long to-morrow ! VI. Maiden! — Death's too strong for scorn ; In the cheek the fairest. He But the fairest throne doth see ; Though the roses of the morn Weave the veil by Beauty worn — Aye, beneath that broidered curtain, Stands the Archer stern and certain ! Maid — thy Visionary hear — Trust the wild one as the seer, When he tells thee that thine eye, While it beckons to the wooer, Only lureth yet more nigh Death, the dark undoer ! VII. Every ray shed from thy beauty Wastes the life-lamp while it beams, And the pulse's playful duty. And the blue veins' merry streams, Sport and run unto the pall — Creatures of the Tyrant, all ! As the wind the rainbow shatters, Death thy bright smiles rends and scatters. Smile and rainbow leave no traces ; — From the spring-time's laughing graces. From all life, as from its germ, Grows the revel of the worm ! VIII. Woe, I see the wild wind wreak Its wrath upon thy rosy bloom, Winter plough thy rounded cheek. Cloud and darkness close in gloom ; Blackening over, and for ever. Youth's serene and silver river ! Love alike and Beauty o'er. Lovely and belov'd no more I MELANCHOLY ; TO LAUEA. 24»7 IX. Maiden, an oak that soars on higli, And scorns the wliirlwind's breath, Behold thy Poet's youth defy The blunted dart of Death ! His gaze as ardent as the light That shoots athwart the Heaven, His soul yet fiercer than the light In the Eternal Heaven Of Him, in whom as in an ocean-surge Creation ebbs and flows — and worlds arise and merge ! Thro' Nature steers the Poet's thought to find No fear but this — one barrier to the Mind ? And dost thou glory so to think ? And heaves thy bosom ? — Woe ! This Cup, which lures him to the brink, As if Divinity to drink — Has poison in its flow ! Wretched, oh, wretched, they who trust To strike the God-spark from the dust ! The mightiest tone the Music knows. But breaks the harp-string with the sound ; And Grenius, still the more it glows. But wastes the lamp whose life bestows The light it sheds around. Soon from existence dragg'd away, The watchful gaoler grasps his prey ; Vowed on the altar of the abused fire, The spirits I raised against myself conspire ! Let — yes, I feel it — two short springs aw^ay Pass on their rapid flight ; And life's faint spark shall, fleeting from the clay, Merge in the Eount of Light ! XI. And weop'st thou, Laura ? — be thy tears forbid ; Wouldst thou my lot, life's dreariest years amid. Protract and doom ? — No ; sinner, dry thy tears ! ^48 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEE. Wouldst tliou, wliose eyes beheld the eagle wing Of my bold youth through air's dominion spring, Mark my sad age (life's tale of glory done) — Crawl on the sod and tremble in the snn ? Hear the dull frozen heart condemn the flame That as from Heaven to youth's blithe bosom came ; And see the blind eyes loathing turn from all The lovely sins Age curses to recall ? Let me die young ! — sweet sinner, dry thy tears ! Yes, let the flower be gathered in its bloom ! And thou, young Genius, with the brows of gloom. Quench thou Life's torch, while yet the flame strong ! Ev'n as the curtain falls ; while still the scene Most thrills the hearts which have its audience been As fleet the shadows from the stage — and long When all is o'er, lingers the brcathloss throng ! THE INFANTICIDE. Hark where the bells toll, chiming, dull and steady, The clock's slow hand hath reach'd the appointed time. Well, be it so — prepare, my sOul is ready. Companions of the Grave — the rest for crime ! Now take, world ! my last farewell — receiving My parting kisses — in these tears they dwell ! Sweet are thy poisons while we taste believing, Now we are quits — heart-poisoner, fare-thee-well ! II. Farewell, ye suns that once to joy invited. Changed for the mould beneath the funeral shade ; Farewell, farewell, thou rosy Time delighted, Luring to soft desire the careless maid. Pale gossamers of gold, farewell, sweet-dreaming Fancies — the children that an Eden bore ! Blossoms that died while Dawn itself was gleaming, Opening in happy sunlight never more. '%i.„ THE INFANTICIDE. 249 III. »S wanlike the robe which Innocence bestowing, Deck'd with the virgin favours, rosy fair, In the gay time when many a young rose glowing, Blush'd through the loose train of the amber hair. Woe, woe ! as white the robe that decks me now — The shroud-like robe Hell's destin'd victim wears ; Still shall the fillet bind this burning brow — That sable braid the Doomsman's hand prepares ! IV. Weep ye, lulio never fell — for whom, unerring, The soul's white lilies keep their virgin hue, Ye who when thoughts so danger-sweet are stirring, Take the stern strength that Nature gives the few Woe, for too human was this fond heart's feeling — Feeling ! — my sin's avenger * doom'd to be ; Woe — for the false man's arm around me stealing, Stole the lull'd Virtue, charm 'd to sleep, from me. Ah, he perhaps shall, round another sighing, (Forgot the serpents stinging at my breast,) Gaily, when I in the dumb grave am lying, Pour the warm wish or speed the wanton jest, Or play, perchance with his new maiden's tresses, Answer tlie kiss her lip enamour'd brings. When the dread block the head he cradled presses, And high the blood his kiss once f ever'd springs. VI. Thee, Francis, Francis, f league on league, shall follow The death-dirge of the Lucy once so dear ; From yonder steeple, dismal, dull, and hollow, Shall knell the warning horror on thy ear. * "Und Empfindung soil mein Richtschwert seyn." A line of gi-eat vigour in the original, but which, if literally translated, would seem extravagant in English. t Joseph, in the original. 250 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. On thy fresh leman's lips when Love is dawning, And the lisp'd music gUdes from that sweet well- Lo, in that breast a red wound shall be yawning, And, in the midst of rapture, warn of hell ! VII. I>etrayer, what ! thy soul relentless closing To grief — the woman-shame no art can heal — To that small life beneath my heart reposing ! Man, man, the wild beast for its young can feel I Proud flew the sails — receding from the land, I watch'd them wanning from the wistful eye, Round the gay maids on Seine's voluptuous strand, Breathes the false incense of his fatal sigh. VIII. And there the Babe ! there, on the mother's bosom, Lull'd in its sweet and golden rest it lay. Fresh in life's morning as a rosy blossom. It smiled, poor harmless one, my tears away. Deathlike yet lovely, every feature speaking In such dear calm and beauty to my sadness, And cradled still the mother's heart, in breaking. The soft'ning love and the despairing madness. IX. *' Woman, where is my father ? " — freezing through me, Lisp'd the mute Innocence with thunder-sound ; *' Woman, where is thy husband ? " — call'd unto me, In every look, word, whisper, busying round ! Alas, for thee, there is no father's kiss ; — He fondleth otlier children on his knee. How thou wilt curse our momentary bliss, Wlien Bastard on thy name shall branded be ! X. Thy mother — oh, a hell her heart concealeth, Lone-sitting, lone in social Nature's All ! Thirsting for that glad fount thy love revealeth, While still thy look the glad fount turns to gall. THE INFANTICIDE. 251 In every iiifaut cry my soul is heark'iiing, The haunting happiness for ever o'er, And all the bitterness of death is dark*ning The heavenly looks that smiled mine eyes before. XI. Hell, if my sight those looks a moment misses^ Hell, when my sight upon those looks is turn'd — The avenging furies madden in thy kisses, That slept in his vs^hat time my lips they burn'd. Out from their graves his oaths spoke back in thunder 1 The perjury stalk'd like murder in the sun — For ever — God ! — sense, reason, soul, sunk under — The deed was done ! XII. Francis, Francis ! league on league, shall chase thee The shadows hurrying grimly on thy flight — Still with their icy arms they shall embrace thee, And mutter thunder in thy dream's delight ! Down from the soft stars, in their tranquil glory, Shall look thy dead child with a ghastly stare ; That shape shall haunt thee in its cerements gory, And scourge thee back from heaven — its home is there ! XIII. Lifeless — how lifeless! — see, oh see, before me It lies cold — stiff ! — God ! — and with that blood I feel, as swoops the dizzy darkness o'er me. Mine own life mingled — ebbing in the flood — £[ark, at the door they knock — more loud within me — More awful still — its sound the dread heart gave ! Gladly I welcome the cold arms that win me — Fire, quench thy tortures in the icy grave ! XIV. Francis — a God that pardons dwells in heaven- Francis, the sinner — yes — she pardons thee — So let my wrongs unto the earth be given : Flame seize the wood ! — it burns — it kindles — see ' 25S POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. There — there his letters cast — behold are ashes — His vows — the conquering fire consumes them here Ilis kisses — see — see all — all are only ashes — All, all — the all that once on earth were dear ! .XV. Trust not the roses which your youth enjoyeth, Sisters, to man's faith, changeful as the moon ! Beauty to me brought guilt — its bloom destroyeth : Lo, in the judgment court I curse the boon : Tears in the headsman's gaze — what tears ? — 'tis spoken ! Quick, bind mine eyes — all soon shall be forgot — Doomsman — the lily hast thou never broken ? Pale Doomsman — tremble not ! The poem we liaAV just concluded was gi*eatly admired at the time of its first publication, and it so far excels in art most of the earlier efforts by the author, that it attains one of the highest secrets in true pathos ; — it produces interest for the criminal while creating terror for the crime. This, indeed, is a triumph in art never achieved but by the highest genius. The inferior writer, when venturing upon the grandest stage of passion (which unques- tionably exists in the delmeation of great guilt as of heroic virtue), falls into the error either of gilding the crime, in order to produce sympathy for the criminal, or, in the spirit of a spurious morality, of involving both crime and criminal in a common odium. It is to discrimination between the doer and the deed, that we ov^e the sublimest revelations of the human heart : in this discrimination lies the key to the emotions produced by the CEdipus and Macbeth. In the brief poem before us a whole drama is comprehended. Marvellous is the completeness of the pictures it presents — its mastery over emotions the most opposite — its fidelity to nature in its exposition of the disordered and despairing mind in which tenderness becomes cruelty, and remorse for error tortures itself into scarce conscious crime. But the art employed, though admirable of its kind, still falls short of the perfection which, in his later works, Schiller aspired to achieve, viz. the point at which Pain ceases. The tears which Tragic Pathos, when purest and most elevated, calls forth, ought not to be tears of pain. In the ideal world, as Schiller has inculcated, even sorrow should have its charm — all that harrows, all that revolts, belongs but to that inferior school in Avhich Schiller's fiery youth formed itself for nobler grades — the school of " Storm and Pressure" (Sturm und Drang, as the Germans have expressively described it). If the reader will compare Schiller's poem of the "In- fanticide," with the passages which represent a similar crime in the Medea (and the author of " Wallenstein " deserves comparison even with the Euiipides), he will see the distinction between the art that seeks an elevated emotion, and the art which is satisfied with creating an intense one. In Euripides, the detail — the reality — all that can degrade ten-or into pain — are loftily dismissed. The Titan grandeur of the Sorceress removes us from too close an approach to the crime of the unnatural Mothei* — the emotion of pity changes into awe— just at the pitch before the coarse sympathy of actual pain can be effected. And it is the avoidance of reality — it is the all- purifying Presence of the Ideal, ^\■hich make the vast distinction in our THE GREATNESS OF CREATION. 253 emotions between following, with shocked and displeasing pity, the crushed, broken-hearted, mortal criminal to the scaffold, and gazing with an awo which has pleasure of its own upon the mighty Murderess — Boaring out of the reach of humanity, upon her Dragon-Car ! ^ THE GREATNESS OF CREATION. Upon the winged winds, among the rolling worlds I flew, Which, by the breathing spirit, erst from ancient Chaos grew; Seeking to land On the farthest strand, Where life lives no longer to anchor alone, And gaze on Creation's last boundary-stone. Star after star around me now its shining youth uprears. To wander through the Firmament its day of thousand years — Sportive they roll Round the charmed goal : Till, as I look'd on the deeps afar, The space waned — void of a single star. On to the Realm of Nothingness — on still in dauntless flight. Along the splendours swiftly steer my sailing wings of light ; Heaven at the rear, Paleth, mist-like and drear ; Yet still as I wander, the worlds in their glee Sparkle up like the bubbles that glance on a Sea ! And towards me now, the selfsame path I sec a Pilgrim steer ! " Halt, Wanderer, halt — and answer me — ^What, Pilgrim, seek'st thou here ? " " To the World's last shore , I am sailing o'er, WTiere life lives no longer to anchor alono, And gaze on Creation's last boundary-stone." 254 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. "Thou sail'sfc in vain — Return! Before thy path, In- finity ! " "And thou in vain! — Behind me spreads Infinity to thee! Fold thy wings drooping, O Thought, eagle-swooping ! — Fantasie, anchor ! — The Voyage is o'er : Creation, wild sailor, flows on to no shore ! " ^ ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH * [Said to be the Poet Rudolf Weckherlin.] Heavy moans, as when Nature the storm is foretelling, From the Dark House of Mourning come sad on the ear ; The Death-note on high from the steeple is knelling, And slowly comes hither a youth on the Bier ; — A youth not yet ripe for that garner — the tomb, A blossom pluck'd off from the sweet stem of May, Each leaf in its verdure, each bud in its bloom : A youth — with the eyes yet enchanted by day : A Son — to the Mother, word of delight ! A Son — to the Mother, thought of despair ! My Brother, my friend ! — To the grave and the night Follow, ye that are human, the treasure we bear. Ye Pines, do ye boast that unshattered your boughs Bi'ave the storm when it rushes, the bolt when it falls ? Ye Hills, that the Heavens rest their pomp on your brows ? Ye Heavens, that the Suns have their home in your halls ? Does the Aged exult in the works he has done — The Ladders by which he has climb'd to Renown ? Or the Hero, in deeds by which valour has won To the heights where the Temple of Grlory looks down ? * Of this Poem, as of Gray's divine and unequalled Elegy, it may be truly said that it abounds in thoughts so natural, that the reader at first believes they have been often expressed before, but his memory will not enable him to trace a previous owner. The whole Poem has the rare beauty of being at once familiar and original. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH. 256 When the canker the bnd doth already decay, Who can deem that his ripeness is free from the worm ; Who can hope to endure, when the young fade away, Who can count on life's harvest — the blight at the germ ? How lovely with youth, — and with youth how delighted. His days, in the hues of the Rose glided by ! How sweet was the world and how fondly invited The Future, that Eairy enchanting his eye ! All life like a Paradise smil'd on his way. And, lo ! see the Mother weep over his bed, See the gulf of the Hades yawn wide for its prey. See the shears of the Parcae gleam over the thread ! Earth and Heaven which such joy to the living one gave, From his gaze darkened dimly ! — and sadly and sighing The dying one shrunk from the Thought of the grave, — The World, oh ! the World is so sweet to the Dying ! Dumb and deaf is all sense in the Narrow House ! — deep Is the slumber the Grave's heavy curtains unfold ! How silent a Sabbath eternally keep, O Brother — the Hopes ever Busy of old ! Oft the Sun shall shine down on thy green native hill, But the glow of his smile thou shalt feel never more ! Oft the west wind shall rock the young blossoms, but still Is the breeze for the heart that can hear never more ! Love gilds not for thee all the world with its glow. Never Bride in the clasp of thine arms shall repose ; Thou canst see not our tears, though in torrents they flow, Those eyes in the calm of eternity close ! Yet happy— oh, happy, at least in thy slumber — Serene is the rest, where all trouble must cease ; For the sorrows must die with the joys they outnumijcr, And the pains of the flesh with its dust— are at peace ! The tooth of sharp slander thou never canst feel. The poison of Vice cannot pierce to thy cell ; Over thee may the Pharisee thunder his zeal, And the rage of the Bigot devote thee to Hell ! Though the mask of the saint may the swindler disguise ; Though Earth's Justice, that Bastard of Right, we may see At play with mankind as the cheat with his dies. As now so for ever — what matters to thee ? 256 POEMS A.ND BALLADS OF SCHILLER, Over thee too may Fortiine (her changes unknown) Blindly give to her minions the goods they desire ; Now raising her darling aloft to the throne, Now hurling the wretch whom she raised — to the mire ! Happy thou, happy thou — in the still narrow cell ! To this strange tragi-comedy acted on earth, To these waters where Bliss is defil'd at the well, To this lottery of chances in sorrow and mirth, To this rot and this ferment — this sloth and this strife, To the day and the night of this toilsome repose. To this Heaven full of Devils — 0, Brother ! — to life — Thine eyes in the calm of Eternity close ! Fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well, Belov'd of the soul I Our yearnings shall hallow the loss we deplore ; Slumber soft in the Grrave till we win to thy goal — Slumber soft, slumber soft, till we see thee once more ! Till the Trumpet that heralds God's coming in thunder, Prom the hill-tops of light shall ring over thy bed — Till the portals of Death shall be riven asunder, And the storm- wind of God whirl the dust of the Dead ; Till the breath of Jehovah shall pass o'er the Tombs, Till their seeds spring to bloom at the life of the Breath, Till the pomp of the Stars into vapour consumes. And the spoils he hath captured are ravished from Death. If not in the worlds dream' d by sages, nor given In the Eden the Multitude hope to attain, If not where the Poet hath painted his Heaven, Still, Brother, we know we shall meet thee again ! Is there truth in the hopes which the Pilgrim beguile ? Does the thought still exist when Life's journey is o'er ? Does Virtue conduct o*er the dreary defile ? Is the faith we have cherish'd a dream and no more ? Already the riddle is bared to thy sight. Already thy soul quaffs the Truth it has won, The Truth that streams forth in its waters of light From the chalice the Father vouchsafes to the Son [ Draw near, then, silent and dark gliding Train, Let the feast for the Mighty Destroyer be spread ; Cease the groans which so loudly, so idly complain. Heap the mould o'er the mould — heap the dust o'er the Dead ! THE BATTLE. 257 Who can solve the decrees of God*s Senate ? — the heart Of the groundless abyss, what the eye that explores ? Holy ! — holy ! — all holy in darkness thou art, God of the Grave, whom our shudder adores ! Earth to Earth may return, the material to matter, But high from the coll soars the spirit above ; His ashes the winds of the tempest may scatter-^ The life of Eternity lives in his love ! (^ THE BATTLE, Heavy and solemn, A cloudy column, Thro' the green plain they marching came | Measureless spread, like a table dread. For the wild grim dice of the iron game. The looks are bent on the shaking ground. And the heart beats loud with a knelling sound | Swift by the breasts that must bear the brunt, Gallops the Major along the front — "Halt!" And fetter'd they stand at the stark command, And the warriors, silent, halt ! Proud in the blush of morning glowing, What on the hill-top shines in flowing ! " See you the Foeman's banners waving ? '* " We see the Foeman's banners waving ! " ** God be with ye — children and wife ! '* Hark to the Music — the trump and the fife, How they ring thro' the ranks which they rouse to tho strife ! Thrilling they sound with their glorious tone. Thrilling they go through the marrow and bone ! Brother Sf God grant when tJds life is o*er^ hi the life to come that we meet once more f See the smoke how the lightning is cleaving asunder ! Hark the guns, peal on peal, how they boom iu their thunder ! From host to host, with kindling sound, The shouting signal circles round, 258 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Ay, shout it forth to life or death — Freer already breathes the breath ! The war is waging, slaughter raging, And heavy through the reeking pall, The iron Death-dice fall ! Nearer they close — foes upon foes *' Ready! '* — From square to square it goes, Down on the knee they sank. And the fire comes sharp from the foremost rank. Many a man to the earth it sent, Many a gap by the balls is rent — O'er the corpse before springs the hinder-man, That the line may not fail to the fearless van. To the right, to the left, and around and around, Death whirls in its dance on the bloody ground. God*s sunlight is quench'd in the fiery fight. Over the host falls a brooding Night ! Brothers^ God grant when this life is d'er^ In the life to come that we meet once more ! The dead men lie bathed in the weltering blood, And the living are blent in the slippery flood. And the feet, as they reeling and sliding go, Stumble still on the corpses that sleep below. " What, Francis ! " " Give Charlotte my last farewell.*' As the dying man murmurs, the thunders swell — *' I'll give — Oh God ! are their guns so near ? Ho ! comrades ! — yon volley ! — look sharp to the rear !— I'll give thy Charlotte thy last farewell, Sleep soft ! where Death thickest descendeth in rain, The friend thou forsakest thy side shall regain ! " Hitherward — thitherward reels the fight, Dark and more darkly Day glooms into night — Brothers, God grant when this life is o'er, In the life to come that we meet once more ! Hark to the hoofs that galloping go ! The Adjutants flying, — The horsemen press hard on the panting foe, Their thunder booms in dying — Victory ! The terror has seized on the dastards all, And their colours fall ! Victory ! FRIENDSHIP. 259 Closed is tlie brunt of the glorious fight ; And the day, like a conqueror, bursts on the night. Trumpet and fife swelling choral along, The triumph already sweeps marching in song. Farewell, fallen brothers, tho* this life he o'er. There's another, in which we shall meet you once inore t ROUSSEAU. (free translation.) O Monument of Shame to this our time f Dishonouring record to thy mother clime ; Hail Grave of Rousseau ! — here thy troubles cease ! Thy life one search for Freedom and for Peace : Thee, Peace and Freedom life did ne'er allow. Thy search is ended, and thou find'st them now ! When will the old wounds scar ! — In the dark age Perish'd the wise ; — Light comes — How fares the sage ? The same in darkness or in light his fate. Time brings no mercy to the Bigot's hate ! Socrates charmed Philosophy to dwell On Earth — by false philosophers he fell ; In Rousseau, Christians mark'd their victim — when Rousseau enlisted Christians into Men ! FRIENDSHIP. [Prom "Letters of Julius to Bnphael," an unpublished Novel, | Friend ! — the Great Ruler, easily content. Needs not the laws it has laborious been The task of small Professors to invent ; A single wheel impels the whole machine Matter and spirit ; — yea that simple law, Pervading Nature, which our Newton saw. 8 2 260 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. This taught the spheres, slaves to one golden rein, Their radiant labyrinths to weave around Creation's mighty heart ; this made the chain, Which into interwoven systems bound All spirits streaming to the spiritual Sun, As brooks that ever into ocean run ! Did not the same strong mainspring nrge and guido Our Hearts to meet in Love's eternal bond ? Link'd to thine arm, Raphael, by thy side Might I aspire to reach to sonls beyond Our earth, and bid the bright Ambition go To that Perfection which the Angels know ! Happy, happy — I have found thee — I Have out of millions fonnd thee, and embraced ; Thou, out of millions, mine ! — Let earth and sky Return to darkness, and the antique waste — To chaos shock'd, let warring atoms be, Still shall each heart unto the other flee ! Do I not find within thy radiant eyes Fairer reflections of all joys most fair ? In thee I marvel at myself — the dyes Of lovely earth seem lovelier painted there. And in the bright looks of the Friend is given A heavenlier mirror even of the Heaven ! Sadness casts off its load, and gaily goes From the intolerant storm to rest awhile, ' In Love's true heart, sure haven of repose ; Does not Pain's veriest transports learn to smile From that bright eloquence Affection gave To friendly looks ? — there, finds not Pain a grave ? In all Creation did I stand alone. Still to the rocks my dreams a soul should find, Mine arms should wreathe themselves around the stone, My grief should feel a listener in the wind ; My joy — its echo in the caves should be ! Fool, if ye will — Fool, for sweet Sympathy ! A GllOUP IN TARTAR US. 261 Wo are dead groups of matter when we hate ; Bat when wc love wo are as Gods ! — Unto The gentle fetters yearning, through each state And shade of being multiform, and thro' All countless spirits (save of all the sire) — Moves, breathes, and blends the one divine Desire. Lo ! arm in arm, thro* every upward grade. From the rude Mongol to the starry Greek, Who the fine link between the Mortal made. And Heaven's last Seraph — everywhere we seek Union and bond — till in one sea sublime Of Love be raerg'd all measure and all time ! Friendless ruled God His solitary sky ; He felt the want, and therefore Souls were made, The blessed mirrors of His bliss ! — His Eye No equal in His loftiest works surveyed ; And ffom the source whence souls are quickened — He Called His Companion forth — Eternity ! A GROUP IN TARTARUS. Hark, as hoarse murmurs of a gathering sea — As brooks that howling through black gorges go, Groans sullen, hollow, and eternally. One wailing Woe ! Sharp Anguish shrinks the shadows there ; And blasphemous Despair Yells its wild curse from jaws that never close ; And ghastly eyes for ever Stare on the bridge of the relentless River, Or watch the mournful wave as year on year it flows. And ask each other, with parch'd lips that writhe Into a whisper, " When the end shall be ? " The end f — Lo, broken in Time's hand the scythe, And round and round revolves Eternity ! 262 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. lELYSIUM. f^AST the despairing wail — And tlie bright banquets of the Elysian Vale Melt every care away ! Delight, that breathes and moves for ever, Glides through sweet fields like some sweet river ! Elysian life survey ! There, fresh with youth, o'er jocund meads, His merry west- winds blithely leads The ever-blooming May ! Through gold-woven dreams goes the dance of the Hours, In space without bounds swell the soul and its powers, And Truth, with no veil, gives her face to the day. And joy to-day and joy to-morrow, But wafts the airy soul aloft ; The very name is lost to Sorrow, And Pain is Rapture tuned more exquisitely soft. Here the Pilgrim reposes the world-weary limb, And forgets in the shadow, cool-breathing and dim, The load he shall bear never more ; Here the Mower, his sickle at rest, by the streams, Lull*d with harp-strings, reviews, in the calm of his dreams. The fields, when the harvest is o'er. Here, He, whose ears drank in the battle roar. Whose banners stream'd upon the startled wind A thunder-storm, — before whose thunder tread The mountains trembled, — in soft sleep reclined, By the sweet brook that o'er its pebbly bed In silver plays, and murmurs to the shore, Hears the stern clangour of wild spears no more ! Here the true Spouse the lost-beloved regains. And on the enamell'd couch of summer-plains Mingles sweet kisses with the zephyr's breath. Here, crown'd at last. Love never knows decay. Living through ages its one Bridal Day, Safe from the stroke of Death I THE REFUGEE. 263 THE REFUGEE. Fresh breathes the living air of dawning Day, The young Light reddens thro' the dusky pines, Ogling the tremulous leaves with wanton ray : The cloud-capt hill-tops shine, With golden- flame divine ; And all melodious thrills the lusty song Of sky-larks, greeting the delighted Sun ; As to Aurora's arms he steals along — And now in bright embrace she clasps the glowing one ! O Light, hail to thee ! How the mead and the lea The warmth and the wave of thy splendour suffuse ! How silver-clear, shimmer The fields, and how glimmer The thousand suns glass' d in the pearl of the dews ! How frolic and gay Is young Nature at play, Where the cool-breathing shade with low whispers is sweet ; Sighing soft round the rose, The Zephyr, its lover, caressingly goes. And over the Meadow the light vapours fleet ! How, high o'er the city the smoke-cloud is reeking. What snorting, and rattling, and trampling, and creaking ; Neighs the horse — the bull lows, And the heavy wain goes To the valley that groans with the tumult of Day ; The life of the Woodlands leaps up to the eye — The Eagle, the Falcon, the Hawk, wheel on high. On the wings that exult in the ray ! Where shall I roam, Peace, for thy home ? With the staff of the Pilgrim, where wander to Thee ? The face of the Earth With the smile of its mirth Has only a grave for me ! Rise up, O rosy Morn, whose lips of love Kiss into blushing splendour grove and field ; Sink down, O rosy Eve, that float' st above The weary world, in happy slumbers seal'd. ^64} POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Morn, in the joyous world thou reddenest over But one dark Burial-place the Pilgrim knows ! O Eve, the sleep thy rosy veil shall cover Is — ^but my long repose ! j THE ELOWERS. Children of Suns restored to youth, In purfled Fields ye dwell, Reared to delight and joy — in sooth, Kind Nature loves ye well ; Broidered with light the robes ye wear, And liberal Elora decks ye fair. In gorgeous-coloured pride : Yet woe — Spring's harmless Infants — Woe, Mourn, for ye wither while ye glow — Mourn for the soul denied ! The Skylark and the Mghtbird sing To you their Hymns of Love, And Sylphs that wanton on the wing Embrace your blooms above ; "Woven for Love's soft pillow, were The Chalice crowns ye blushing bear, By the Idalian Queen : Yet weep, soft Children of the Spring, The feelings Love alone can bring To you denied have been ! But me in vain my Laura's * eyes. Her Mother hath forbidden ; For in the buds I gather, lies Love's symbol-language hidden — Mut'e Heralds of voluptuous pain I touch ye — life, speech, heart, ye gain, And soul, denied before : And silently your leaves enclose The mightiest God in arch repose. Soft cradled in the core ! * Nanny ^ in the Editions of Schiller's collected Works; but Laura, when the Poem was first printed in the Anthology. In the earlier form of the poem, it was not, however, the Poet who sent the flowers to Laura, but Laura who sent the flowers to him. TO MINNA. 265 TO MINJSTA. I. Do I dream ? can I trust to my eye ? My sight sure some vapour must cover ? Or, there, did my Minna pass by — My Minna — and knew not her lover ? On the arm of the coxcomb she crost, Well the fan might its zephyr bestow j Herself in her vanity lost, That wanton my Minna ? — Ah, no ! II. In the gifts of my love she was drest, My plumes o'er her summer-hat quiver ; The ribbons that flaunt in her breast Might bid her — remember the giver ! And still do they bloom on thy bosom, The flowerets I gathered for thee ! Still as fresh is the leaf of each blossom, 'Tis the Heart that has faded from me ! III. Go and take, then, the incense they tender ; Go, the one that adored thee forget ! Go, thy charms to the Feigner surrender, In my scorn is my comforter yet ! Go, for thee with what trust and belief There beat not ignobly a heart. That has strength yet to strive with the grief To have worshipp'd the trifler thou art ! IV. Thy beauty thy heart hath betray'd — Thy beauty — shame, Minna, to thee ! To-morrow its glory will fade, And its roses all withered will be ! The swallows that swarm in the sun Will fly when the north winds awaken. The false ones thine Autumn will shun, For whom thou the true hast forsaken ! 266 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. *Mid tlie wrecks of thy charms in December, I see tliee alone in decay, And eacli Spring shall but bid thee remember How brief for thyself was the May ! Then they who so wantonly flock To the rapture thy kiss can impart, Shall scoff at thy winter, and mock Thy beauty as wreck'd as thy heart ; VI. Thy beauty thy heart hath betray'd — Thy beauty — shame, Minna, to thee ! To-morrow its glory will fade — And its roses all withered will be ! O, what scorn for thy desolate years Shall I feel ! — God forbid it in me ! How bitter will then be the tears Shed, Minna, O, Minna, for thee ! TO THE SPRING. Welcome, gentle Stripling Nature's darling, thou ! With thy basket full of blossoms, A happy welcome now ! Aha ! — and thou returnest, Heartily we greet thee — The loving and the fair one, Merrily we meet thee ! Think'st thou of my Maiden In thy heart of glee ? I love her yet, the Maiden — And the Maiden yet loves me ! For the Maiden, many a blossom I begg'd — and not in vain ! I came again, a-begging. And thou — thou giv'st again : THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 267 Welcome, gentle Stripling, Nature's darling thou — With thy basket full of blossoms, A happy welcome, now ! THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. A HYMN. Blessed through love are the Gods above — Through love like the Gods may man be ; Heavenlier through love is the heaven above, Through love like a heaven earth can be ! Once, as the poet sung, In Pyrrha's time 'tis known, From rocks Creation sprung, And Men leapt up from stone ; Rock and stone, in night The souls of men were seal'd, Heaven's diviner light Not as yet reveal'd ; As yet the Loves around them Had never shone — nor bound them With their rosy rings ; As yet their bosoms knew not Soft song — and music grew not Out of the silver strings : No gladsome garlands cheerily Were love-y-woven then ; And o'er Elysium drearily The May-time flew for men,* The morning rose ungreeted From ocean's joyless breast ; Unhail'd the evening fleeted To ocean's joyless breast — Wild through the tangled shade. By clouded moons they stray'd, "The "World was sad, the garden was a wild. And Man, the Hermit, sigh' d— till Woman smiled." — Campbell a68 POEMS AND BALLADS OP SCHILLEK. The iron race of Men I Sources of mystic tears, Yearnings for starry spheres, Wo God awaken' d then ! « « # # # Lo, mildly from the dark-bine water, Gomes forth the Heavea's divinest Daughter, Borne by the Kymphs fair-floating o'er To the intoxicated shore ! Like the light-scattering wings of morning Soars universal May, adorning As from the glory of that birth Air and the ocean, heaven and earth ! Day*B eye looks laughing, where the grim Midnight lay coil'd in forests dim ; And gay narcissuses are sweet Wherever glide those holy feet — Now, pours the bird that haunts the eve The earliest song of love, ISTow in the heart — their fountain — ^heave The waves that murmur love ! O blest Pygmalion — blest art thou — It melts, it glows, thy marble now ! Love, the God, thy world is won ! Embrace thy children, Mighty One. ***** Blessed through love are the Gods above — Through love like the Gods may man be ; Heavenlier through love is the heaven above. Through love like a heaven earth can be. ***** Where the nectar bright-streams. Like the dawn's happy dreams. Eternally one holiday, The life of the Gods glides away. Throned on his seat sublime. Looks He whose years know not time ; At his nod, if his anger awaken, At the wave of his hair all Olympus is shaken, Yet He from the throne of his birth, Bow'd down to the sons of the earth. THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. Through dim Arcadian glades to wander sighinj LuU'd into dreams of bliss — Lnll'd by his Leda's kiss — Lo, at his feet the harmless thunders lying ! The Sun's majestic coursers go Along the Light's transparent plain, Curb'd by the Day-god's golden rein ; The nations perish at his bended bow j Steeds that majestic go, Shafts from the bended bow, Gladly he leaves above — For Melody and Love ! Low bend the dwellers of the sky, When sweeps the stately Juno by ; Proud in her car, the Uncontroll'd Curbs the bright birds that breast the air, As flames the sovereign crown of gold Amidst the ambrosial waves of hair — Ev'n thou, fair Queen of Heaven's high throne, Hast Love's subduing sweetness known ; From all her state, the Great One bends To charm the Olympian's bright embraces, The Heart- Enthraller only lends The rapture-cestus of the Graces ! o » «» o « Blessed through love are the Gods above — Through love like a God may man be ; Heavenlier through love is the heaven above. Through love like a heaven earth can be I o o tt o • Love can sun the Realms of Night — Orcus owns the magic might — Peaceful where She sits beside, Smiles the swart King on his Bride ; Hell feels the smile in sudden light- Love can sun the Realms of Night ! Heavenly o'er the startled Hell, Holy, where the Accursed dwell, O Thracian, went thy silver song ! Grim Minos, with unconscious tears, Melts into Mercy as he hears — 270 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. The serpents in Megara's hair, Kiss, as they wreathe enamour' d there ; All harmless rests the madding thong ; — From the torn breast the Vulture mute Flies, scared before the charmed lute — Lull'd into sighing from their roar The dark waves woo the listening shore — Listening the Thracian's silver song ! — Love was the Thracian's silver song ! o * # « o Blessed through love are the Gods above — • Through love like a God "may man be ; Heavenlier through love is the heaven above. Through love like u heaven earth can be ! e o « «j o Through Nature, blossom-strewing, One footstep we are viewing, One flash from golden pinions ! — If from Heaven's starry sea, If from the moonlit sky ; If from the Sun's dominions, Look'd not Love's laughing eye ; Then Sun and Moon and Stars would be Alike, without one smile for me ! But, oh, wherever Nature lives Below, around, above — Her happy eye the mirror gives To thy glad beauty, Love ! Love sighs through brooklets silver- clear. Love bids their murmur woo the vale ; Listen, O list ! Love's soul ye hear In his own earnest nightingale. No sound from Nature ever stirs. But Love's sweet voice is heard with hers ! Bold Wisdom, with her sunlit eye, Retreats when Love comes whispering by — For Wisdom's weak to Love ! To victor stern or monarch proud, Imperial Wisdom never bow'd The knee she bows to Love ! Who through the steep and starry sky, Goes onward to the Gods on high, TO A MORALIST. 271 Before thee, hero-brave ? Who halves for thee the land of Heaven ; Who shows thy heart, Elysium, given Through the flame-rended Grave ? Below, if we were blind to Love, Say, should we soar o'er Death, above ? Would the weak soul, did Love forsake her, E'er gain the wing to seek the Maker ? Love, only Love, can guide the creature Up to the Father-fount of Nature ; What were the soul did Love forsake her ? Love guides the Mortal to the Maker ! o o « o «J Blessed through love are the Gods above — Through love like a God may man be ; Heavenlier through love is the heaven above, Through love like a heaven earth can be ! TO A MORALIST. Are the sports of our youth so displeasing ? Is love but the folly you say ? Benumb'd with the Winter, and freezing, You scold at the revels of May. For you once a nymph had her charms. And oh ! when the waltz you were wreathing, All Olympus embraced in your arms — All its nectar in Julia's breathing. If Jove at that moment had hurl'd The earth in some other rotation, Along with your Julia whirl'd, You had felt not the shock of creation. Learn this — that Philosophy beats Sure time with the pulse, — quick or slow As the blood from the heyday retreats, — But it cannot mako gods of us — No ! 272 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. It is well, icy Reason should thaw In the warm blood of Mirth now and then, The Gods for themselves have a law Which they never intended for men. The Spirit is bound by the ties Of its Gaoler the Flesh ; — if I can Not reach as an Angel the skies, Let me feel on the earth as a Man ! FORTUNE AND WISDOM. In a quarrel with her lover To Wisdom Fortune flew ; " I'll all my hoards discover — Be but my friend — to you. Like a mother I presented To one each fairest gift, Who still is discontented, And murmurs at my thrift. Come, let's be friends. What say you ? Give np that weary plough. My treasures shall repay you. For both I have enow ! " " Nay, see thy Friend betake him To death from grief for thee — He dies if thou forsake him — Thy gifts are nought to me f^' COUNT EBERHARD, THE QUARRELLER (DER GREINER) OF WURTEMBERG. [Count Eberhard reigned from 1344-92. His son Ulrick was defeated before Eeutling in 1377, and fell the next year in battle, at Doffingen, near Stuttgai'd, in a battle in which Eberhard was victorious. There is some- thing of national feeling in this fine war-song, composed in honour of tJie old Suftbian hero, by a poet himself a Suabian.] COUNT EBERHAED, THE QUARRELLER. 273 Ha, ha ! — take heed, — ha, ha ! take heed — * Ye knaves both South and North ! For many a man both bold in deed. And wise in peace the land to lead, Old Suabia has brought forth. Proud boasts your Edward and your Charles, Your Ludwig, Frederick — are ! Yet Eberhard's worth, ye bragging carles ! Your Ludwig, Frederick, Edward, Charles — A thunder-storm in war ! And Ulrick, too, his noble son. Ha, ha ! his might ye know ; Old Eberhard's boast, his noble son, Not he the boy, ye rogues, to run, How stout soe'er the foe ! The Reutling lads with envy saw Our glories, day by day ; The Reutling lads shall give the law — The R-eutling lads the sword shall draw — O Lord — how hot were they ! Out Ulrick went, and beat them not — To Eberhard back he came — A lowering look young Ulrick got — Poor lad, his eyes with tears were hot — He hung his head for shame. " Ho — ho " — thought he — " ye rogues beware ; Nor you nor I forget — For by my father's beard f I swear Your blood shall wash the blot I bear, And Ulrick pay you yet ! " * " Don't bear the head too high." Ihr, ihr dort ausaen in der Wolt, Die Nasen eingespannt ! — t Count Eberhard had the nickname of Rush-Board, from the rustling of that appendage, with wliich he was favoured to no ordinary extent. T ZH POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER. Soon came tHe hour ! witli steeds and men The battle-field was gay ; Steel closed on steel at Doffingen — And joyous was our stripling then, And joyous the hurra! " The battle lost " our battle-cry ; The foe once more advances : As some fierce whirlwind cleaves the sky, We skirr, through blood and slaughter, by. Amidst a night of lances ! On, lion-like, grim Ulrick sweeps — Bright shines his hero-glaive — Her chase before him Fury keeps, Far-heard behind him, Anguish weeps. And round him — is the Grave ! Woe — woe ! it gleams — the sabre-blow — Swift-sheering down it sped — Around, brave hearts the buckler throw — Alas ! our boast in dust is low ! Count Eberhard's boy is dead ! Grief checks the rushing Victor- van — Fierce eyes strange moisture know — On rides old Eberhard, stern and wan, " My son is like another man — March, children, on the Foe ! " And fiery lances whirr'd around, Revenge, at least, undying — Above the blood-red clay we bound- Hurra ! the burghers break their ground, Through vale and woodland flying ! Back to the camp, behold us throng, Flags stream, and bugles play — Woman and child with choral song, And men, with dance and wine, prolong The warrior's holyday. FAREWELL TO THE READER. 275 And oar old Count — and what doth he ? Before him lies his son, Within his lone tent, lonelily, The old man sits with eyes that see Through one dim tear — his son 1 So heart and soul, a loyal band, Count Eberhard's band, we are ! His front the tower that guards the land, A thunderbolt his red right hand — His eye a guiding star ! Then take ye heed —Aha ! take heed, Ye knaves both South and North ! For many a man, both bold in deed And wise in peace, the land to lead, Old Suabia has brought forth ! With this ballad conclude all in the First Period, or early Poems which Schiller himself thought worth preserving, and which are retained in the editions of his collected works; — except the sketch of "Semele," which ought to be classed amongst his dramatic compositions. FAREWELL TO THE READER. (transferred from the third period.) The Muse is silent ; with a virgin cheek, Bow'd with the blush of shame, she ventures near She waits the judgment that thy lips may speak. And feels the deference, but disowns the fear. Such praise as Virtue gives, 'tis hers to seek — Bright Truth, not tinsel Folly to revere ; He only for her wreath the flowers should cull Whose heart, with hers, beats for the Beautiful. Nor longer yet these lays of mine would live, Than to one genial heart, not idly stealing. There some sweet dreams and fancies fair to give, Some hallowing whispers of a loftier feeling. T i 276 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILIk", those cultivators by spade-labour now so common in France. The "sarculum" was a lighter tool than a spade or mattock (with which Forcelliui observes tixuL llc^-»oPi here confounds it by synecdoche), and was used as a hoe for digging up weeds. The author of the article on "Agriculture" in Smith's "Dictionary of Greek and lloman Antiquities " says that " it was an implement by which, after cover- ing up the seed, the husbandman loosened the roots of the young blades in order that air and moisture might gain free access." X " IndocUis pauperiem pati." " Pauperies " does not here mean what is commonly understood by poverty, but, as Macleane expresses it, "a humble estate." Macleane, indeed, states " that * pauperies,' ' paupertas,' ' pauper,' are never by Horace taken to signify privation, or anything beyond a humble estate." This assertion is, however, too sweeping. In the lines (Epod. xvii. 47, 48), " Neque in sepulcris pauperum prudens anus Novendiales dissipare pulveres," BOOK I. — ODE r. 285 Lo, one who scorns not beakers of old Massic, Nor lazy honrs cnt from the solid day, Now with limbs stretched beneath the verdant arbute, Now by soft well-head of nymph-hallowed streams. Camps delight many ; clarion shrill, deep trumpet Commingling stormy melodies ; and war, Hateful to mothers. His young bride forgetting, In wintry air the hunter stands at watch. If start the deer in sight of his stanch beagles, Or burst through close-knit toils the Marsian boar. Me, prize of learned brows, the wreathen ivy. Associates with the gods ; me woodlands cool And the light dance of nymphs with choral satyrs, Set from the many and their world apart ; If with no checked and hesitating utterance Euterpe lend her breath unto her flutes ; And for my touch the harp- strings heard in Lesbos If Polyhymnia scorn not to retune. But amid lyric bards if thou enrol me, With crest uplifted I shall strike the stars. Excursus. " Me doctarum hederae prsemia frontium." Wolff, Hare, Tate, and some other commentators, would substitute "Te" for "Me" — appljing the line to Maecenas, ^^ Thee the ivy — the prize of learned brows — associates with gods above; Me the cool woods, &c., set apart from the conmion crowd." This reading is rejected by the highest critical authorities, including Orelli and Macleane ; but it appears in itself entitled to more respect than is shown by the latter. For there is some force in the remark, that in referring to the various tastes and characteristics of men, Horace woruld scarcely avoid all complimentary reference to Maecenas himself; and there is yet more force in another remark that, if Horace says that the ivy wreath associates him with the higher or celestial gods, there is a certain bathos, if not contradiction, in immediately afterwards saying that his tastes associate him with tlie inferior or terrestrial deities — t. ^., nymphs and satjTS. It is said, in vindication of " Me" instead of *' Te," that "doctus" is a word very appropriate to poets ; that the ivy, sacred to Bacchus, was the ' ' pauper ' ' clearly means a person of the very poorest class. May not the same be 3^ of *' Pauperum tabernas" in contradistinction to " Kcgum turrcs" ? Lib I. Od. iv. 13, 14. The words "pauper," "pauporics,' "paujpertas," have, indeed, some of the elastic sense of our own Poor Man, or Poverty, which may imply only comparatively restricted means, or sometimes abso- lute want. The English language has expressions denoting the gradations of stinted circumstances correspondent to those in the Latin. The Englisli has poverty, penury, destitution : the Latin, paupcrtas, inopia, egestas . So iilso the Greek language lias ^r€v^ honourable poverty ; wtcdxc^ discredit- able poverty ; IrSeto, destitution. 286 THE ODES OF HORACE. fit and usual garland for a lyric poet ; and tliat Horace could never stoop to the absurd flattery of insinuating that Ma)cenas was a greater poet than himself. But, in answer to all this, it may be urged that Horace elsewhere especially applies the word " doctus " to Mrocenas ; in Lib. HI. Od. viii. line 4, — " Docte sermones utriusque linguae ; " and again, more emphatically, Epist. xix. Hue 1, — " Prisco si credis, Maecenas docte, Cratino." And though the ivy was appropriate to poets, it was not appropriate to poets alone. Horace (Lib. I. Epist. iii., addressed to Julius Florus) speaks of it as the reward of excellence in forensic eloquence or jurisprudence as well as of song : — " Seu linguam causis acuis sen civica jura, Eespondere paras seu condis amabile carmen, Prima feres liederce victricis^r<5WM«." And if the ivy crown may be won by pleading causes or giving advice to clients, it can be no inappropriate reward to the brows of a statesman so ac- complished as Maecenas. Thus, I think, there is much to be said in favour of the construction — " Thee, Mcecenas, the ivy wreath — prize of learned or skilled brows — associates with the higher gods {i. e., with those who watch over states and empires) ; me, the love of rural leisure and the dreams that it begets set apart from the crowd." On the other side, Kitter has the best vindication I have seen of the alleged contradiction or bathos in the Poet's boasted association, first, with the higher gods, and, next, with the inferior deities. According to him, Horace is speaking of two kinds of lyric poetry —the lofty and the sportive. The first, symbolised by the ivy, associates him with gods in heaven ; the second, connecting him with the pastimes of nymphs and satyrs, separates him from the popular pursuits of men. For the first, he trusts to the aid of Polyhymnia, presiding over the Lesbian l}Te (of Alcaeus) ; for the second, to the livelier inspiration of Euterpe. ODE II. TO C^SAE. The exact date of this ode has been matter of controversy, but most recent authorities concur in assigning it to about A.u.c. 725, after the taking of Alexandria, and at the height of Augustus's popularity on his return to Home. Ritter argues strongly in favour of the later date, A.u.c. 732. The prodigies described in the earlier verses are those which followed the death of Julius Caesar, A.u.c. 710, and Horace therefore, at the opening of the poem, ti-ansports himself in imagination to that time — See Orelli's excursus, Macleane's introduction, and Kitter' s prooemium. On the merit of the ode itself opinion diff'ers. By some it is highly praised for its imagery, the delicacy with which it flatters Augustus, and the humane art with which it insinuates that his noblest revenge for his uncle's murder is in becoming the protector and father of his people. Against this praise it may be said, not Avithout reason, that the poem has blemishes of a kind from which Horace is free in odes of similar importance ; that there is something forced and artificial in the kind of humour admitted into the description of Pyrrha's flood ; that the idea of the uxorious River bursting his banks out of complaisance to the complaints of his A\ife is little better than a frigid BOOK I. — ODE 11. 287 conceit; and that the " extravangaza " contained in the transfiguration of Mercury into the earthly fonn of Augustus, fails in that manliness of genuine enthusiasm with which Horace celebrates Augustus in Odes B. III. and IV. Whatever weight may be attached to these objections, they suffice to render the ode one of the most difficult to translate so as to impress an English reader with some sense of the beauties ascribed to it by its admirers. Now of dire liail and snow enongh the Sire Has launched on earth, and with a red right hand. Smiting the sacred Capitolian heights * Startled the City, Startled the nations, lest the awful age Of Pyrrha, wailing portents new, return, When Proteus up to visit mountain-peaks Drove his whole sea-flock. When fishes meshed in topmost boughs of elms Floundered amidst the doves' familiar haunts, And deer, through plains f above the old plains heapen, Swam panic-stricken. We have seen the tawny Tiber, with fierce waves Wrenched violent back from vents in Tuscan seas, March on to Numa's hall and Vesta's shrine, J Menacing downfall ; Vaunting himself the avenger of the wrong By Ilia too importunately urged, The uxorious River leftward burst his banks, Braving Jove's anger. § * " Sacras— arces," the sacred buildings on the Capitoline HiU. t ' Et superjecto pavidic natarunt iLquore damee." " iEquor " is a plain or level surface, whether of land or sea. The former appears to have been its original and simple meaning, though the poets applied it afterwards to the latter (Cicero, Acad. 2). Though the word here implies " water," the point would be lost in so translating it. There would be no prodigy in deer swimming through water — the prodigy is in their swimming through plains cast over those on which they had been accus- tomed to range. t The palace of Numa adjoined the temple of Vesta at the foot of Mount Palatine. Fea says that the Church of Sta Maria Liberatrice occupies this site. § Ilia, mother of Romulus, was, according to legend, thrown into the Tiber bv Amulius— hence the fable that she became wife to the god of that river. She complains to her husband of the murder of Julius Ciesar, to whom she 288 THE ODES OF HOPvACE. Thinned by parental crime, the younger race Shall hear how citizens made sharp the steel By which should rather have been slain the Mede : Hear — of what battles ! Who is the god this people shall invoke To save a realm that rushes to its fall ? By what new prayer shall sacred virgins tire Vesta to hearken ? To whom shall Jove assign the part of guilt's Blest expiator ? Come, at last, we pray, With shoulder brightening through the stole of cloud, Augur Apollo ! Or com'st thou rather, Venus, laughing queen, Eyinged by the hovering play of Mirth and Love ; Or satiate with, alas, too lengthened sport, Thou, Parent War-god, Joying in battle-clang and glancing helms And the grim aspect of the unhorsed Moor,* Fixing his death- scowl on the gory foe, Come, if regarding Thine own neglected race, thine offspring, come ! Or thou, mild Maia's winged son, transformed To mortal youth,t submitting to be called 083sar's avenger ; claims affinity. The special reason for Jove's displeasure at the river-god's incursion on the left bank is variously conjectured : it may be either that on that side he threatened the temple of Jove himself, or that Jove, as supreme guardian of all temples and of Rome itself, resented the outbreak as an offence to himself, or, as Macieane interprets it, " He disapproved the presumption of the river-god, because he had reserved the task of expiation for other hands and happier means.' * All recent editors have " Mauri peditis." Munro, though retaining that reading in his text, is " not convinced that * Marsi peditis ' is not far finer and more appropriate." The Moors fighting habitually on horseback, the interpretation of *' peditis " most favoured by the commentators is that jn the translation ; the rider being unhorsed is rendered more fierce and stub- born by despair. t Mercury in the form of Augustus. Orelli drvly observes that Augustus Avas forty years old at the date when he is here called " juvenem." No doubt "juvenis" and "adolescens" were words descriptive of any age between "pueritia" and "senectus," and Cicero called himself "adoleecens" at the BOOK I. — ODE III. 289 Stay tliy return to heaven : long tarry here Well pleased to be this Roman people's guest, Nor with our vices wroth, untimely soar, Rapt by the whirlwind. Here rather in grand triumphs take glad rites, Here love the name of Father and of Prince, No more unpunished let the Parthian ride, Thou our chief — Caasar.* ODE III. ON Virgil's voyage to Athens. There is a well-known dispute as to tlie date, and the occasion of this ode, and it has been even called in question whether the Virgil addressed were the poet. It is, no doubt, difficult to reconcile the received chronology of • the publication of the first three books of Odes witli the supposition that this ode was addressed to Virgil the poet, on the occasion of the voyage to Athens, from which he only returned to die : but there is no reason why Virgil should not have made or contemplated such a voyage before the last one ; and Macleane, here agreeing with Dillenburger, is " inclined to think such must have been the case."— See his introduction to this ode. So may the goddess who rules over Cyprus, So may the brothers of Helen, bright stars, So may the Father of Winds, while he fetters All, save lapyx, the Breeze of the West, age of forty-four, when he crushed the conspiracy of Catiline ; but still a *• juvenis " of forty, or even of thirty years old, would have little resemblance to the popular effigies of the smooth-faced son of Maia (Mercury) ; and considermg the whole space of time which this poem reviews and condenses, starting from the death of Julius Caesar, is it not probable that Horace here applies the word *' juvenis" to Augustus in reference to the age in which bo first announced himself as " Ccesaris ultor " (Coesar's avenger), and in order to achieve that name and fulfil that object descended from his celestial rank as Mercury, or (to define more clearly the mythical functions of Mercury) as the direct messenger from Jove to man ? Augustus, then, was a youth in every sense of the word. In fact he was barely twenty when he declared it to be his resolve and his mission to avenge the death of Ms uncle. At that age, judging by his effigies in gems, the resemblance of the young Octavius to the face of Mercury in the statues is sufficiently strikmg t« have created general remark, and to save from extravagant flattery tho lines in the ode. For of tho two faces that of the young Octuvius is of a higher and more godlike type of beauty than appears in any extant statuo of Mercury. * " The way in which he introduces the name of Cajsar unexpectedly at the end, has always appeared to me an instance of consummate art." — Macleane. 290 THE ODES OF HORACE. <^ Speed thee, Ship, as I pray thee to render * Virgil, a debt daly lent to thy charge, "Whole and intact on the Attican borders, Faithfnlly guarding the half of my sonl. Oak and brass triple encircled his bosom. Who first to fierce ocean consigned a frail bark, . Jlearing not Africns, when, in wild battle. Headlong he charges the blasts of the North ; Fearing no gloom in the face of the Hyads ; Fearing no rage of mad Notus, than whom, Never a despot more absolute wieldeth Hadria, to rouse her or lull at his will. What the approach by which Death could have daunted Him who with eyelids unmoistened beheld ' Monster forms gliding and mountain waves swelling, And the grim Thunder- Crags dismally famed ? Vainly by wastes of an ocean estranging God, in his providence, severed the lands, Vainly if nathless, the ways interdicted Be by our vessels profane traversed o'er. Rushes man's race through the evils forbidden, Lawlessly bold to. brave all things and bear : Lawlessly bold did the son of the Titan Bring to the nations fire won through a fraud. Fire stolen thus from the Dome Empyrean, Meagre Decay swooped at once on the earth, Leagued with a new-levied army of Fevers — Death, until then the slow- comer, far off, * I side with Dillenburger, Eitter, Munro, and Jfaeleane in rejecting the punctuation of Orelli, who places a comma before "procor," putting the word in parenthesis, for the reason thus ably stated in the following note, for which I am indebted to a friend, than wbom there is no higher authority in critical scholarship : " It is not commonly observed, but certainly true, that the 2d pers. pi-es. subj. (reddas) is never used as a mere imperative, = * redde.' It may be used precatively in addressing a deity, a superior (or in politeness), as 'serves' in Ode xxxv. 1. 29. Where it is used with 'precor,' the verb is not in parenthesis, but distinctly governs 'reddas,' *I pray you to render.' There should therefore be no comma between them ; and this view shows ' precor ' to be the true apodosis of the passage." BOOK I. — ODE IV. 291 Hurried his stride, and stood facing his victiili ; Diedalus sounded the void realms of air, Borne upon wings that to man are not given : Hercules burst through the portals of hell. Nought is too high for the daring of mortals ; Hcav'n's very self in our folly we stornl. Never is Jove, through our guilty aspiring, Suffered to lay down the bolt we provoke. ODE IV. TO LUCIU« SESTIUS. The Lucius Sestius here addressed was the son of the Sestius or Sextius defended by Cicero in an oration still extant. Lucius served under Brutus in Macedonia, and after his chieftain's death continued to honour his memory and preserve his images. He did not on tliat account incur the displeasure of Augustus, who made him Consul Suffectus in his own place, B,c.23. There is no other ode in this metre, which has its name (Archilochian) from Archilochus of Pares. The difference in rhythm between the first and second verse of the strophe is remarkable, and suggests the idea of being chanted by two voices in alternate lines. Keen winter melts in glad return of spring and soft Fa- vonius ; And the dry keels the rollers seaward draw ; No more the pens allure the flock, no more the hearth the ploughman ; Nor glint the meadows white with rime-frost hoar — Beneath the overhanging moon, now Venus leads her dances, And comely Graces, linked with jocund Nymphs, Shake with alternate foot the earth, while ardent Vulcan kindles The awful forgo in which the Cyclops toils,* * Venus dances — ^Vulcan toils : i. e. in spring man reawakens both to pleasure and labour. " Urit'^ — "Though I have retained the ordinary reading of editions here, I believe that MS. authority, propei-ly interpreted, indicates tiissit {i. e. visit, as Bcntley and, before Ivini, Itutgersius read) . . Venus dancing in the moonsliino, while her husband is away visiting the stithies of the Cyclops, is a beautiful picture." — Munro, Introduction, xxix. XXX. See there the elabonito argument by which this eminent scholar supports tho reading he would prefer. V 2 292 THE ODES OF HORACE. ISTow well becomes anointed brows to wreathe witb verdant myrtle, Or such rath flowers as swards, relaxing, free ; And well becomes the votive lamb, or kid if more it please him, Offered to Faunus amid shadowy groves. Pale Death with foot impartial knocks alike at each man's dwelling, The huts of beggars and the towers of kings. Blest Sestins, life's brief sum forbids commencing hope too lengthened ; Ev*n now press on thee Night and storied ghosts, And Pluto's meagre hall, which gained, the wine-king's reign is over — No more the die allots the frolic crown.* * ^ ^ # # ODE V. TO PYEEHA, I cannot presume to attempt any rhymeless version of this ode in juxta- position with Milton's famous translation, which I therefore annex. " Any resemblance between the metre he selects and that of the original depends/' as Mr. Conington observes, " rather on the length of the respective linos than on any similarity in the cadences," and his rhythm is perhaps somewhat too cramped to convey the lyrical spirit in lighter and livelier odes of the same measure in the original ; — even in this translation such contractions as " T' whom thou untried seem'st fair ! Me, in my vowed Picture, the sacred wall declares t' have hung — are not without a certain harshness. But all minor defects are amply com- pensated by the masterly closeness and elegance of the general vei'sion. The metre is ranked with the Asclepiadeans, and is repeated, Book I. 14, 21, 23 ; III. 7, 13 ; IV. 13. * The Ilomans chose by cast of the die the symposiarch or king of the feast. Book i. — ode vt. 293 "What slender youth, bedewed with liquid odours,* Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave,t Pyrrha ? for whom bind'st thou In wreaths thy golden hair. Plain in thy neatness ? O, how oft shall he On faith and changed gods complain, and seas Rough with black winds, and storms Unwonted shall admire ! Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold, Who always vacant, always amiable Hopes thee, of flattering gales Unmindful. Hapless they T'whom thou untried seem'st fair ! Me, in my vowed Picture, the sacred wall declares t'have hung My dank and dropping weeds To the stern god of sea.J ODE VI. TO M. VIPSANIUS AGRIPPA. No public man among the partisans of Augustus is more remarkable for the union of extraordinary talents with extraordinary fortune than the Vipsanius Agrippa to whom this ode is addressed. Sprung from a very obscure family, he might have failed in obtaining a fair career for his po^vers but for the accident of beiug a fellow-student with the young Octavius at Apollonia. He thus, at the age of twenty, became one of the most intimate associates, and one of the most influential advisers, of the * Tlie reader will observe that the first line is the only one in the transla- tion which ends with a dissyllable. "Whether Milton makes this variation of the rliythm he selects through oversight or intention, the reader can con- jecture for himself. Probably Milton regarded the two first lines of each strophe simply as heroic blank verse, in which the termination of a monosyllable or dissyllable is optional. t "Grato, Pyrrha, sub antro." *' Some pleasant cave" appears scarcely to give the sense of the original. " Antrum" means the grotto attached to the houses of the luxurious, and in which was placed a statue of Venus. Grottoes are still in use among the richer Italians, and it is not some cave to wliich Horace alludes, but with a certain tenderness of reproach to the grotto in which Pyrrha had been accustomed to receive Mm. j " Potcnti — maris deo" Milton transhites "the stem god of sea," not observing that "potena" governs "maris," as "potens Cypri."— Macleane, 294 THE ODES OF HORACE. future emperor of the world. While he was yet in youth he had acnieved the highest distinctions, and secured the most eminent station. He had passed through the office of praetor and consul, and established, by a series of brilliant successes, the fame of a great general. As a naval commander he became yet more illustriously distinguished. He constructed the Eoman nayy ; defeated Sextus Pompeius, then master of the sea ; commanded the fleet against M. Antony ; and the victory at Actium was mainly owing to his skill. It was soon after that last victory that this ode is supposed to have been written. All the honours Augustus could confer were heaped on him ; the emperor united him to his own family, first by a marriage with his niece Marcclla, subsequently, yet more closely, by marriage with his daughter Julia. Fortune never deserted Agrippa to the close of his life at the age of fifty-one. His character seems to have been a union of qualities rarely found together, — sagacity of design, rapidity of action, a brilliant genius in construction, devoted to practical purposes. When ho was forming a fleet he turned the Lucrine Lake into a harbour for a school to the mariners by whom he afterwards defeated the tried sailors of Sextus Pompeius. As sedile his first care was to supply Eome with water, restoring the Appian, Marcian, and Anienian aqueducts, and building a new one fifteen miles long from the Tepula to Eome. With this utility of purpose he combined great magnificence in taste, adorning the city with public buildings and statues by the ablest artists he could find. All these daring and splendid qualities were accompanied by a modesty or a prudence which preserved the affection of the people and avoided all chance of exciting the jealousy of Augustus. He twice refused a triumph. The reader will observe with what ease Horace avoids all servility in the brief homage he delicately renders to Agrippa, and the playfulness of the concluding stanza would seem to intimate a certain familiarity of inter- course, or at all events that there was nothing in the temper of Agrippa, two years younger than himself, so austere as to be shocked by the poet's fiwourite subjects for song. Of the poems of Varius, to whose muse Horace refers the due celebration of Agrippa' s deeds, only a few fragmentary lines have been preserved. Among these is the description of a hound, which is rigorous and striking. The fragment has been imitated by Yirgil, whom he preceded as an epic poet. His tragedy of " Thyestes" seems to have sur- vived in repute his epics, since Quintilian does not mention those, while he accords to "Thyestes" the high praise of saying " that it might have stood comparison with any of the Greek dramatic master-pieces." 'Tis by Varius that Song, borne on pinions Homeric, Shall exalt thy renown as the valiant and victor, Whatsoe'er the bold soldier by land or by ocean With thee for his leader achieved. Themes so lofty we slight ones attempt not, Agrippa, Not the terrible wrath of Pelides nnyielding, Not the course through strange seas of the crafty * Ulysses, Not the fell House of Pelops, we sing. * " Duplicis—Ulixci." Horace very naturally, in speaking of Ulysses, adopts the characteristic epithet employed from the Greek. In Latin "duplex" is very rarely used in the sense of crafty or deceitful. I know not of any other instance in which it is so used by the Latin poets except in Catullus, Ixviii. 51, " duplex Aniuthusia." BOOK I. — ODE VII. 295 While the Muse that presides over late-strings un warlike, And my own sense of shame would forbid me to lessen. By the inborn defect of a genius unequal, The glories of Caesar and thee. Who can worthily sing Mars in adamant tunic, Or Merion all grim with the dust-cloud of Ilion, Or Tydides, when, thanks to the favour of Pallas, He stood forth a match for the gods ? We of feasts, we of battles, on youths rashly daring Waged by maids armed with nails too well pared for mach slaughter. Sing, devoid of love's flame ; or, if somewhat it scorch us, Still wont to make light of the pain. ODE VII. TO PLANCUS. This ode is generally supposed to be addressed to L. Munatius Plancus, than whom those versatile times did not engender a more selfish renegade or a more ungrateful traitor. Estre, loath to grant that Horace condescended to immortalise this person (who, however, contrived to make himself im- portant to all parties, and died safe, wealthy, and honoured at least by Augustus, who even conferred upon him the censorship, B.C. 27), thinks that it was some other Plancus, possibly his son, designated as Munatius, Lib. I. Ep. iii. v. 31. Horace, however, in this ode does not ascribe any vii-tues to the person addressed at variance with the general character of the successful renegade, and only bids him not take giief much to heart, but enjoy himself as much as ho could, whether in the camp or at his villa— an admonition which he was not likely to disregard. The measure of the ode takes its name from Alcman. It consists of a complete hexameter alter- nated with a verse made uj) of the last four feet of a hexameter. Horace only employs this metre twice again, Book I. Ode xxviii., and Epode xii. Other bards shall extol brilliant Rhodes, Ephesus, or Mytilene, Or, queen of two seas, stately Corinth, n Embattled Thebes, famous through Bacchus, Delphi as famed through Apollo, Or Thessaly's beautiful Temp^. 296 THE ODES OF HORACE. Some are whose sole task is to land the city of Pallas the spotless, Prolonging the hymn into Epic,* On every side plncking a leaf to garland their brows with the olive ; And many, in honour of Juno, Tell of Argos, the breeder of steeds, and the rich stores of Mycen^ ; But me more have stricken with rapture Than patient Laconia's defiles, than fertile Larissa*s ex- panses The grot of Albunea f resounding, The Anio's precipitous rush, the woodlands and orchards of Tibur, All dewy with quick-winding waters. As the white southern wind often clears clouds from a sky at its darkest, Nor teems with a rain that is lasting, So, Plancus, let those weary hours, when life seems but labour and sorrow, Be lulled to their end in the wine- cup ; Whether camps with banners ablaze hold thee now, or shall hold thee hereafter The thick-leaved shades of thy Tibur, When from Salamis and from his sire, Teucer was passing to exile, 'Tis said that he crowned with the poplar J Brows first besprinkled with drops from the strength-giving boon of LyaBus, To friends as they sorrowed thus speaking : * " Carmine perpetuo celebrare." I adopt the interpretation of Orelli, Macleane, and Yonge — a continuous poem, like an epic, culling all the asso^ ciations and myths connected with Athens, and formed into a whole like Ovid's Metamorphoses. t Albunea, the Sibyl, who gave her name to a grove and fountain, and apparently to a grotto at Tibur. lEmblematic of coui'age and adventure. The poplar was consecrated to Hercules, BOOK T. — ODE VIII. 297 " Go WE wheresoever a fate more kind than the heart of a parent May bear us, associates and comrades ; Despair of nought, Teucer your chief — of nought nndel auspice of Teucer, Unerring Apollo predicts us " A Salamis built on new soil, which Fame shall confound with the lost one ; * Brave friends who have borne with me often Worse things as men, let the wine chase to-day every care from the bosom. To-morrow — again the great Waters." ODE VIII. TO LYDIA. This ode has been paraphrased by Henry Luttrell into that_ elegant and playful satire upon the manners of his own day, called " Advice to Julia." The names are clearly fictitious. Whether the persons designated by the names existed is another matter — probably enough : their types are always existing. There is no reason for supposing the various Lydias whom Horace addresses were the same person ; every reason, judging by the internal evidence of the several poems, to suppose they were not. There is no other ode in this metre. By all gods, Lydia, say Why haste to ruin Sybaris thro' loving ? Why has the Campus grown To him, of dust and sun so patient, — hateful ? 'Mid comates why no more Parades that martial rider, with sharp wolf -bit Breaking in Gallic f mouths ? Why shuns that athlete oil * " Ambiguam tellure nova Salamina futuram "—a new Salamis, which might in future be confounded with the old one. The new Salamis was in Cypms. t " Gallica nee lupatis Temperat orat frenis." Gallic mouths — horses from Gaul. These were considered very high mettled, but, when well broken-in, so serviceable in war that they were in great request in the Koman cavalry. "Lupatis," a bit, jagged liked wolves' teeta. ^98 THE ODES OF HORACE, More than the froth of vipers ; why no longer Baring arms nobly bruised ; He, for so many a feat of dart and discus Hurled beyond mark — renowned ? Where lurks he, as the son of ocean-Thetis From funeral fates in Troy Lurked, — they say — hidden, lest to Lycian squadiunf And carnage, rapt away If once detected m the guise of manhood ? ODE IX. TO THALIARCHUS. Tlialiarchus signifies in Greek " ai-biter bibendi" — commonly translated "feastmaster." Some editors, as Dillenburger and Macleane, refusing to consider it meant to be a proper name, print, " thaliarche," "0 feast- master," Orelli and Yonge, however, retain the capital T, and it is perhaps nioi-e agreeable to Horace's habit of individualising generals, and is cer- tainly more animated in itself, to consider, with Buttmann, that the word is meant for a proper name, though of course a fictitious one, and invented to signify the official character of the person addressed. I may also add that there is no instance, I believe, in Latin authors, in which the word thaliarchus is used as a feastmaster ; and that, therefore, if Horace did not mean it to be considered a proper name, it would have been unintelligible to those of his readers who did not understand Greek ; and to those Avho did, would have appeai'cd a pedantic affectation, which was precisely the reproach that a man of Horace's good taste and keen sense of the ridiculous would not voluntarily have incurred. The references to the manner in which Thaliarchus may spend his day, all belong to the life of a town ; and there is no reason to suppose the scene otherwise than at Rome. Walckenaei* says that the isolated and singular form of Soracte strikes the eye on quitting the city by one of the two gates to the north. Though, to judge by a fragment preserved in Athenaeus, the poem ia more or less imitated from an ode by Alca)us, the scene and manners are altogether Roman ; in fact, the more the fragments left of Greek poets are fairly com- pared with the verses in which they are imitated by Horace, the more Horace's originality in imitating becomes conspicuous. See how white in the deep-fallen snow stands Soracte ! Labouring forests no longer can bear up their burden j And the rush of the rivers is locked, Halting mute in the gripe of the frost. BOOK I. — ODE X. 299 Thaw the cold ; more and more on the hearth heap the fagots — More and more bringing bounteously out, Thaliarchus, The good wine that has mellowed four years In the great Sabine two-handled jar. Leave the rest to the gods, who can strike into quiet Angry winds in their war with the turbulent waters, Till the cypress stand calm in the sky — Till there stir not a leaf on the ash. Shun to seek what is hid in the womb of the morrow ; Count the lot of each day as clear gain in life's ledger ; Spurn not thou, who art young, dulcet loves ; Spurn not, thou, choral dances and song. While the hoar-frost morose keeps aloof from thy verdure. Thine the sports of the Campus,* the gay public gardens ; Thine at twilight the words whispered low ; Each in turn has its own happy hour : Now for thee the sweet laugh of the girl — ^which betrays her Hiding slyly within the dim nook of the threshold, And the love-token snatched from the wrist. Or the finger's not obstinate hold. ODE X. TO- MERCURY* The scholiast Porphyrion says this ode was taken from Alcocus, who, he nsserts, and Pausanias confimis it, invented the story about Apollo's cows or * "Campus et areoo"— the Campus Martius, in which, in the forenoon, athletic sports were practised, and tlie public promenades (are?c) in different parts of tne city, and especially round the temples, which were the resort of loungers in the afternoon. Orclli thus gracefully elucidates the concluding verse. "The scene," lie says, "is this: the lover goes at the appointed hour to the door of his mistress, which stands ajar ; he calls upon her with low whispers : the girl keeps silence, having playfully hid herself behind the threshold, until at last she beti-ays herself by her laugh. The lover '.hen rushes in, and carries off as a love-pledge her bracelet or ring, after a struggle on her part not too pertinaciously coy." 300 THE ODES OF HORACE. oxen. The story is celebrated in the Homeric hymn to Hermes, as well as the invention of the lyre by stringing a tortoise-shell, at whatever date that hjTiin was written. Horace always ascribes to Mercury the characteristics of the Greek Hermes, with whom the Mercurius of the Latins had little in common. Mercury, tliou eloquent grandson of Atlas, Who didst tlie rude manners of earth's early races First mould into form, botli by graceful Palaestra,* And by skilled language — Of tliee will I sing, to great Jove and Olympus Light herald ; — sing thee of wreathed lute the inventor, So cunning to hide whatsoe'er the whim took thee Gaily to pilfer. When Phoebus in wrath sought to frighten thy childhood If thou didst not restore the kine tricksomely stolen, While threatening his shafts he was robbed of his quiver ; Laughed out Apollo ! So too, led by thee, Priam bearing his treasures From Ilion, eluded the vaunting Atrida3,f The watchlights of Thessaly and the remorseless Tents of the Argive. Thou placcst pure souls in the calm of blest dwellings, With golden staff shepherding ghost-flocks of shadow To gods, whether throned in Olympus or Hades, Equally welcome. * No English paraphrase can adequately render Palaestra, Avhich was especially attributed to the invention of Hermes. It appears to have been originally distinct from the gymnasia, and appropriated chiefly to the training of the athletse in wrestling and the Pancratium. TVhen towards the decline of the Eepublic the Komans imitated the Greeks in these and other less manly customs, they attached to their villas places for exercise called indiscriminately Gymnasia or Palaestra). The meaning of the stanza is that Mercury taught the early races how to discipline body by skilled exercise, and express thought by cultivated language; and I agree with Orelli in construing " voce " thus, and not as song or music, which is rather the gift of Apollo. t " Quin et Atridas." Here Horace abruptlv elevates the astuteness of Mercury from the playful thefts of infancy to the wise caution with which he leads the innocent and helpless through the severest dangers ; and then naturally, and with all his inmiitable terseness, the poet represents him as conducting no less safely the souls of the dead. Throughout all those stanzas, BOOK I. — ODE XI. 301 ODE XI. TO LEUCONOE. The desire to solve the doubts by which man is beset in the present, will, Serhaps, so long as the world lasts, give an audience to those who pretend to ivine the future ; and of all modes of divination, astrology has been, from time immemorial, the most imposing, because it arrogates the rank of a science, and asserts that it bases its predictions upon deductions from a vast accumulation of facts. Kome, of course, abounded in astrologers, who called themselves Chaldajans, as Cicero calls them ; and were probably as much Chaldaeans as the Gipsies of Norwood are Bohemians or Indians. Horace gives his fair friend a brief admonition, which, in proof of the common-sense that keeps him always modern, might be equally given to ladies, and even to the ruder sex, in our o^vn day. For wherever we travel in England or Europe, it is rare to find a toAvn, hoAvever deficient in books, in which a prophetic astrological almanac may not be seen in the shop-Avindows. Nay, Leuconoe, seek not to fathom wliat death unto me — unto thee (Lore forbidden) the gods may assign; nor the schemes of the Chaldee consult.* How much better it is whatsoever the future shall bring to endure ! Whether Jove may vouchsafe our existence more winters, or this be the last. Which now breaks Tuscan ocean in spray on the time- eaten rocks that oppose, Be thou wise ; strain thy wine from the lees ; and to space which thine eye can survey Cut the length thou allottest to hope. While we talk — grudging Time will be gone ; Seize the present ; as little as may, confide in a morrow beyond. from the theft of oxen, when Mercury was an infant in his cradle, to liis crowning mission as the conductor of souls departed, the same ruling idea of stealth is preserved and deified. Mercury steals the kinc from Apollo, ho steals Priam through the Grecian camp, he steals souls through the passage between earth and Hades, — all with a union of guarded secrecy and imper- turbable serenity which, throughout the more playful attributes of Hermes, imply the grandeur and inspire the awe that characterise a supernatural being. No deity can be more exclusively Greek in this combination of open joyousness and mystic power. It was a type of divinity as impossible to bo conceived by the Latins as by the Germanic and Scandinavian races, though they all worshipped a Mercurixis. * "Nee Babylonios tentaris numeros," — i. e. the astrological calculations, or, in technical phrase, " schemes," for which the Chaldecs were so famous. 802 THE ODES OF HORACE, ODE XII. IN CELEBRATION OF THE DEITIES AND THE WORTHIES OF ROME. This poem is commonly inscribed very inappropriately " Do Augusto," and sometimes more accurately " De laudibus Deorum vol hominum." It was certainly composed before the death of the young Marcellus, a.u.c. 731 ; and Orelli and Macleane agree in accepting Franke's date, a.u.c. 729. What man, what hero, or what god select'st thou. Theme for sweet lyre or fife sonorous, Clio ? Whose honoured name shall that gay sprite-voice, Echo, Hymn back rebounding. Whether on Helicon's umbrageous margent, Whether on heights of Pindus or cold Hsemus, Whence woods, at random, vocal Orpheus followed ? He who stayed rivers In their swift course, and winds in their wild hurry By art maternal ; * and with bland enchantment Led the huge oaks at his melodious pleasure List'ning his harp-strings. Whom should I place for wonted rites of homage Before the Father- King of gods and mortals, Who earth, and ocean, and heaven's varying seasons f Orders and tempers. From whom not greater than Himself proceedeth — To whom exists no semblance and no second ? Yet where, he hath a nearest, be its honours Sacred to Pallas. Left not unsung be Liber, bold in battle ; Nor she, the brute- world's foe — virgin Diana : Nor thou, dread Lord of the unerring arrow, Phoebus Apollo. * " Arte materna " — the Muse Calliope, mother of Orpheus. f " Qui mare ac terras yariisque mundum Tcmpcrat horis." "Mundum" here means "coelum," "sky" — i.e. the -whole framework of nature, in sea, earth, and heaven, is under the dominion of Jove. BOOK I. — ODE XII. 303 Siiig let me, too, the demigod Alcides, And Leda's twins, the rider and the athlete — At whose joint star, what time on storm-beat seamen Dawns its white splendour. Back from the rocks recedes the rush of waters, Winds fall, clouds fly, and every threatening billow, Lulled at their will, upon the breast of ocean Sinks into slumber. Should, after these, be Romulus first honoured, Numa's calm reign, or Tarquin's haughty fasces ? I pause in doubt ; or is it rather Cato's Noble self-slaughter ? Regulus, and the Scauri,* and ^milius Lavish of his great life when Carthage triumphed, Grateful I name for song's most signal honours ; — Thee, too, Fabricius ; He and rude unkempt Curius and Oamillus, — These were the men whom hardy thrift, rude nurture, The ancestral farm, and unluxurious homestead Fitted for warfare. Tree-like grows up through unperceived increases Marcellus' f fame. As the moon throned in heaven 'Mid lesser lights, the Julian constellation Shines out resplendent. Father and Guardian of all human races, Saturnian Jove, to thee the Fates have given Charge o'er great Caesar ; mayst thou reign supremely, Next to thee Cassar. * Either the Scauii enjoyed at that time a higher reputation than they have i-etained in history, or Horace had some special reason, personal or political, now inexplicable, for placing them in the rank of Rome's foremost worthies. jEmilius Paulus, having advised the disastrous battle of Canna), refused the horse offered to him by a tribune of the soldiers, and remained to perish on the field. •f " As the name of Marcellus, whom I understand, with Orelli, to be the Marcellus who took Syracuse, stands for all his family, and particularly the young Marcellus, so the star of Julius Coosar, and the lesser lights of that family, are meant by what folloAvs." — Macleane. 304 THE ODES OF HORACE. Whetlier the Parthian s over Rome impending Grace liis full * triumph, or the farthest dwellers, Indian and Seric, upon Orient margins Under the sunrise,t Wide earth with justice he shall rule, thy viceroy ; With awful chariot Thou shalt shake Olympus ; Thou through the sacred groves profaned impurely Launch angry lightnings .J ODE XIII. TO LYDIA. In this ode is expressed naturally enough the sort of jealousy which a Lydia would be likely to inspire in a general lover, such as Horace repre- sents himself in his poems — "sive quid urimur non prajter solitum leves." The ode in itself, whether borrowed or not from a Greek original, is replete with the elegance which characterises Horace's love-poems, and there is a tenderness which seems genuine and heartfelt in the concluding stanza. The metre in Horace is the same as in Ode iii., but no English measure seems to me so well to express the sense and spirit of the ode as the graver and more elegiac form in which the translation is cast. When thou the rosy neck of Telephus, The waxen arms of Telephus, art praising, Woe is me, Lydia, how my jealous heart Swells with the angaish I would vainly smother. * " Justo triompho." " ' Justo,' 'regular, full, complete,' in which sense this adjective is attached to such nouns as exercitus, Icgio, acies, proelium, victoria."— YoNGE. t " Sive subjectos Orientis orte Seras et Indos." f he Seres, whom some conjecture to be the Chinese, represent the nations at the farthest east known to the Eomans. " Subjectos orte," " unde the edge or extremity of the East." — ^Yongb. :|: " Tu gravi curru quaties Olympum, Tu parum castis inimica mittes Fulmina lucis." The general meaning seems to be, that Jove left the political government of earth to Augustus, his vicegerent; but he reserved to himself alone the dominion of heaven, and the task of avenging such crimes as offended the gods, or polluted the sanctity of the temples. feOOK i. — ODE XlV. 305 Then in my mind thought has no settled base. To and fro sliifts upon my cheek the colour, And tears that glide adown in stealth reveal By what slow fires mine inmost self consumeth. I burn, or whether quarrel o'er his wine, Stain with a bruise dishonouring thy white shoulders, Or whether my boy-rival on thy lips Leave by a scar the mark of his rude kisses. Hope not, if thon wonldst hearken unto me, That one so little kind prove always constant ; Barbarous indeed to wound sweet lips imbued By Venus with a fifth part of her nectar.* Thrice happy, ay more than thrice happy, they Whom one soft bond unbroken binds together, Whose love, serene from bickering and reproach, Ends not before the day when life is ended. ODE XIY. THE SHIP — AN ALLEGORY. I know not what safer title for this poem can be selected from the many assigned to it in the MSS. All or most critics nowadaj's arc agreed that it is a political allegory, and not, as GraD^vdus, Bentley, and others contended, an address to the actual ship that brought Horace from I'hilippi, and in which his friends were about to re-embark. Quinctilian illustrates the meaning of the word "allegoiy" by a reference to the ode, and the ode itself is an imitation of an allegorical poem by Alcaeus on the political troubles of Mitylene, of which a fragment is extant. Quinctilian's inter- pretation of the allegory, though still popularly received— viz., that the ship means the Commonwealth or Kepublic — is not without eminent disputants ; and unless there were more assured data as to the time in which the poem was written, and under what political circumstances, the dispute is not likely to be settled. The opinion advanced by Acron and supported with * ** Quinta parte sui nectaris." It has been disputed Avhethcr Horace means by this expression the Pythagorean quintessence, which is ether. Most modem translators so take it — "an interpretation," says Macleane, " which I am surprised to find Orelli adopts with others, that does not com- mend itself to my mind at all." Neither does it to mine. I think the interpretation rendered by Dillcnburger much less pedantic and much more poetical. The ancients supposed that honey contained a ninth or tenth part of nectar, and therefore the lips of Lydiu were imbued with double the nectar bestowed on honey. X 306 THE ODES OP HORACE. mucli force by Buttmann is, that the poem is addressed, not to the Commoli- wealth, but to a remnant of the political party with which Horace had fought under Brutus, and in remonstrance against their launching once more into civil war under Sextus Pompeius. This view has been somewhat rudely assailed, and the generality of critics remain loyal to the good old simile of Ship and State. But of late the argument of a critic at once so acute and so profound as Buttmann has been silently gaining ground with reflective scholars, and has much in its favour. Nothing in itself is more probable than that Horace should have sought to express to his old comrades in an allegorical poem his dissuasion from the hazardous junction "with S. Pompeius, and place on record his own vindication for refusing to put forth in so shattered a vessel, and resting in port — i. e. with the government established imder Augustus. The other supposition most favoured as to the date of the poem is that which places it in the year before the battle of Actium, when M. Antony and Augustus were making their preparations for war. This does not seem so probable a date as the other. The images of the poem would ill accord with it. Horace could scarcely have said then that the ship under Augustus was disabled, destitute of rowers and chiefs, and could not last through a storm ; and as in that war Ca?sar went forth against Antony rather than Antony against Caesar, the expostulation to keep in port would have been very ill received by Augustus, and very contrary to the spirit with Avhich Horace always speaks of that war and its results, and to the willingness expressed in Epode i. to have taken a share in the enterprise, had Maecenas been appointed to command in it. At the outbreak of the Avar Avith Antony, Horace Avas a decided pai'tisan of the established government, and this poem is evidently Avritten by a man who has aflTection and fear for those about to hazard some new enterprise against the existent order of things. He cer- tainly Avould not have addressed that warning to Antony's supporters. "Whether the poem allegorises the entire Republic, or that party belonging to it Avith Avhich Horace had been so intimately connected, and with whose rencAved hazards he declined to associate himself, does not, hoAvever, very materially signify ; for a Avriter who has been a strong party- man generally l)as his party in his mind whenever he proposes to address the State. But if Horace really designed the allegory for his old comrades under Brutus, about to cast their fortunes Avith Sextus Pompeius, he could not more aflcclionately part from them, nor more delicately imply his own rational excuses for doing so. O ship, shall new waves drift thee back into ocean ? What wonldst thou ? Make fast, O, make fast for the haven ! Ah ! dost thou not see how thy sides Are all naked of even the rowers ? * Thy mast by the south wind in fury is shattered, And loud groan thy mainyards, and scarce,t without cables Undergirding the keel, couldst thou strive With the sway of the tyrannous waters. * J. e., Avhethcr the lines apply to the State or to a party in it, men and appliance^ are Avanting to the cause. t " Sine funibus vix durare carintc." The usual interpretation of BOOK I. — ODE XV. 807 Thy sails are not whole, and the gods thou wouldsfc call on Once more, in the stress of thy peril have left thee, August Pontic pine,* though thou art Of a forest illustrious the daughter. All useless the race, and the name that thou vauntest ; Scared sailors trust nought to the stern's painted colours. Beware, beware, lest thou owe But a mock to the winds thou wouldst hazard. Thou, lately the cause of my wearisome trouble. And now of deep care and regretf al affection, Mark well where the Cyclades shine, And avoid the waves flowing between them. ODE XV. THE PEOPHECT OF NEEEUS. This ode is considered by critics to bear the stamj) of an early composition. It has certainly the vigour and fire of youth, but it is seldom that the poetry of youth is equally terse and condensed. "funibus," " gu'diog-ropes," is here adopted. M&cleane construes "de- prived of her rigging." — See his note. * In translating these lines I feel very strongly how much they favour Acron's opinion and Buttmann's argument for the application of the allegory to the old Brutus party about to share the fortunes of the great Pompey's Bon, Sextus. The old gods, or the statues of the tutelary deities niched in the stem, were indeed gone ; the cry for Eepublican liberty or Senatorial rights was hushed in the gi-aves of Brutus and Cassius. Assimiing with Acron and Buttmann that by the Pontic pine is symbolised Pompey, whose chief successes were achieved in Pontus as the conqueror of Mithridates, his name and race were indeed idly vaunted by Sextus. Ilecruits distrusted the colours painted on the battered, ship to which they were invited. Applying the lines to the cause of the old Brutus party, well might Horace exclaim, "Nuper solUcitum quae mihi tajdium," in reference to the anxieties and to the disgusts with which his share in that cause had subjected him, the loss of friends and hopes and fortune ; and well and tenderly might he add, in affection for former comrades and deprecation of the perils they were about to risk, "Nunc desidcrium curaque non levis." "Desiderium" is a word that implies affection, and " a missing of something — a regret." The whole of the poem thus construed seems to me in complete hannony with all the poems in which Horace takes a retrospective view of his connection with Brutus' 8 pait)'^, and the attachment he retained for his old friends, so strongly evinced in his welcome to Pompeius Varus, Lib. ii. Ode ^'ii. X 2 308 THE ODES OF HORACE. "When tlie false Shepherd bore througli the waters lu Idasan ships, Helen his hostess, Nereus buried swift winds in loathed slnmber That Fate's fell decrees he might sing. ^' Woe the day that thou, lead'st to thy dwelling Her whom Greece shall ask back by great armies, Sworn in league to dissolve, with thy nuptials. The ancient dominion of Troy. " Ah ! what death-sweat to war-horse and warrior ! Ah ! what funerals that move with thy rowers Bring'st thou home to the race of the Dardan ! Already stern Pallas prepares "Helm, and segis, and chariot, and fury ; Vainly, bold in the safeguard of Venus, Shalt thou trim thy sleek locks and charm women With songs set to chords — not of war ; * " Vainly shun in thy paramour's chamber f Pond'rous spears and the darts of the Cretan, And the roar of the battle ; — and Ajax So swift when he follows a foe ; " Late, alas ! dust shall yet smear thy love-locks. Lo behind thee, thy race's destroyer, Lo Ulysses ! — lo Nestor ! — Thee, Teucer, Thee, Sthenelus, skill'd in the fight " Or the chariot-chase, fearlessly follow : Merion, too, thou shalt know, — but look yonder, Through the battle comes raging to find thee Tydides, more dread than his sire ! ' " Ah ! from him, as a hart in the valley Sees the wolf and f orgetteth its pasture. All unnerved and deep-panting thou fliest ; Not such was the pledge to thy love. * " Carniiua divides " — i.e., accompany your harp with singing. — Yonoi t Horn. II. ill. 381. BOOK I. — ODE XVI. 809 " Though the wrath in the fleet of Achilles Bring a respite to Troy and Troy's mothers ; Ilion's domes, after winters predestined, Shall sink in the flames of the Greek ! " ODE XYI. RECANTATION. There is no ground for safe conjecture as to the person here addressed. Tlie old inscriptions applying it to Tyndaris, the daughter of Gratidia, cele- brated as Canidia in the Epodes, or the assertion in Cruquius that it is Gratidia herself, are now generally considered to be purely fictitious. Horace, no doubt, in his youth wrote a great many satirical or vituperative poems which he had too good taste to republish,, and which, happily for his fame, have perished altogether. To some lady so libelled we may well suppose this ode to have been addressed, for it has an air of reality about it. It may have been suggested by the poem in which Stesichorus recanted his slanders on Helen, but to what extent Horace here imitates that poem, there are no means of judging. O, of mother so fair thon the yet fairer daughter, To such end as thou wilt put my guilty iambics, Fling them into the flames to consume, Or the Ocean of Hadria to drown. Phrygian Oybele, no, nor the Pythian Apollo In the innermost shrines soul- convulsing his priesthood, No, nor Liber, nor Corybants mad When their cymbals redouble the clash, Craze the mind like the woeful disorders of anger, Which are scared from their vent, nor by ISTorican falchion, Wreckful oceans — nntameable fires, Nor ev'n Jove though himself thunder down. It is said that Prometheus to man's primal matter Was compelled to add something from each living creature, And thus from the wild lion he took Rabid virus to place in our gall. Anger shattered in ruins the House of Thyestes ; Anger stands forth the cause by which cities have perished, And the ploughshare of insolent hosts Has passed over the site of their walls. •310 THE ODES OF HORACE. Be appeased tlien : that vehement heat of the bosom In the sensitive heyday of youth tempted me too, And it whirled me all frantic away Down the torrent of scurrilous song. 'Now I seek to exchange rude emotions for soft ones Provided my penitence move thee to pardon, And my full recantation thus made, O be friends, and restore me thy heart. ODE XYII. INVITATION TO TTNDARIS. It is impossible to do more than conjecture whether the person addressed under the feigned name of Tyndaris actually existed or not. There are one tr two touches in the poem which seem to individualise her as a creature of he earth — such as the selection of one particular song about the rivalry of Penelope and Circe, which is not a theme especially appropriate to the place of invitation, and may well have been the favourite song of some fair lute- player ; and the reference to the jealous violence of Gyi'us looks like an allusion to some incident that had previously occurred. On the one hand, nothing is more likely than that Horace should have known, and invited to his villa, some such accomplished freed-woman as is here addressed. On the other hand, nothing is more consonant to his exquisite art than the inven- tion of attributes and incidents for the purpose of giving the interest of reality to a purely imaginary creation. A compliment to the beauty of the person addressed is insinuated by the name of Tyndaris, " as if," says Orelli, "she were another Helen." For Lucretilis oft nimble Faunus exchanges, So delightful its slopes, his Arcadian Lyc^eus — From my she-goats still turning aside Rainy winds and the scorch of the sun. All in safety the waves of the strong-scented husband Jlovc where arbute and thyme lurk in woodlands secreted : Never green adder daunts them, nor there Martial wolf from Heedilia descends, Whilesoever, my Tyndaris, round and about us Ring the smooth sheeny lime-rocks of sloping Ustica, And the valleys embosomed below, ' With the sweet haunting pipe of the god. BOOK I. — ODE XVIII. 311 Over me watcli the gods with an aspect of favour, To the gods dear at heart are the muse and my worship. Hero our rich rural honours shall flow From a brimmed cornucopia to thee. Here, within the deep vale, thou shalt shun the red dog. star, And shalt sing us that tale on the lute strings of Toos, How Penelope vied with the Sea's Crystal Circe, for one human heart ; Safely here shalt thou quaff, under cool leafy shadows, Sober cups from the innocent vineyards of Lesbos ; 'Tis not here that gay Semele's son * Shall with Mars his encounters confound ; Dread not here lest pert Cyrus, suspecting thee vilely, Lay rash hands on that form not a match for rude anger. Rend the garland which clings to thy hair, Or the robe — which deserves no such wrong. ODE xvin. TO VAEUS. Varus was no uncommon name, and it has been a dispute with eommen- tators what Varus is here addressed. It is generally oelieved to be the Quinctilius Varus for whose death Horace seeks to console VirgU, Ode xxiv. of this Book. By the way in which Bacchus and Venus are here addressed, Horace implies a temperate and elegant conviviality ; Bacchus is hailed as " father," benignant, not cruel; and Venus as "decens" — that is, accompanied with the Graces, "ipsa decens est, cum comites sint dccentcs Gratia; " (Carm. i. 4, 6 ; Dillenburger) ; and the poet proceeds to contrast a Bacchus and a Venus so characterised with the braAvl and lust of the Centaurs, who, invited to the marriage-feast of Peirithous, King of the LapitliK, attempted in their drunkenness to caiTy off the bride and the other women, which of course led to a fight with the Lapithce and with the Sithonians, a people in Thrace, who were afflicted by Bacchus with the curse of never drinking" without fighting. Bacchus. 31 a THE ODES OF HOUACE. Of all trees that thou plantest, Varus, the vine, holy vino be the first, On the soil that surrounds genial Tibur and Catilus' ram- parted walls To the lips of the dry does the godhead taint all with a taste of the sour, And only by wine are the troubles gnawing into the bosom dispersed. Fresh from wine who complains of the hardships he bears or in want or in war ? Who not more hails thee, Bacchus, as father ; thee, Venus, as linked with the Grace ? But Evius himself has forewarned us by his curse on the Thracians of old. And the battle o'er riotous wine-cups which the Centaurs with Lapithee fought. How the drunkard divides right from wrong by the vanish- ing line of his lust. And not to pass over the limit the Unbinder of Care has imposed. 'Tis not I who will shake, comely Bacchus, the thyrsus against thy consent,* Or drag forth to daylight thy symbols covered over with manifold leaves. * Silence ! hush, savage horn Berecynthian ! let the clash of the timbrel be hushed. Making music which Self-conceit follows, dull egotist reeling stone blind, Idle Vainglory over-exalting her empty and arrogant head, And a Faith which is lavish of secrets, — with bosom more geen through than glass. * " Non ego te, candide Bassareu, Invitum quatiam, nee variis obsita frondibus Sub divum rainam." - "Uuatiam," poetically applied to the god himself, refers to the shaking of the thrysus, cymbals, or images in the wild dance of the Orgies. " Variis obsita frondibus " means the A^essels in which the mystical symbols of Bacchus were concealed, covered over with various leaves, chiefly of vine and ivy. BOOK I. — ODE XIX. 313 ODE XIX. TO QLYCERA. "Whether Glyccra and Cinara be the saiiic person— whether the Glycera here addressed be tlie same Glyccra as is elsewhere mentioned — whether she existed anywhere or under any name except in Horace's fancy — are questions that have been as fiercely debated as if they could be decided, or were of the slightest consequence if they could. The poem itself is charmingly pretty, and has much more the air of complimentary gallantry than of real affection. Methought I had finislied witli love When the mother herself of the Cnpids, a merciless mother she is, And the Theban boy, Semele's son, And the goddess called Wantonness bade me to love again render my soul. Me the beauty of Glycera burns. Shining out with a delicate light than the marble of Paros more pure ; It burns me that dear saucy charm. And that face in its dazzle too sheen for the eye without danger to rest.* All Yenus, in rushing on me Has deserted her temples in Cyprus. She will not permit me to sing Of Scythian, or Parth who exults Tn the feints of the swift-wheeling steeds, or of aught which belongs not to love. Quick, slaves, here ! an altar in haste — Pile it up with the green living sod ; hither vervain and frankincense bring. And wine winters two have matured : Thus appeased by the blood of a victim, more gently the goddess may come. * " Yoltus nimium lubricus adspici." This bold expression, which will not bear a translation too literal, is, according to some recent commentators, taken from the glitter and smoothness of ice ; as ice is too slippery for the foot, so Glycera'a face is too slippery for the gaze. Earlier critics, coupling the previous reference to the Parian marble, suggest that the allusion 13 314 THE ODES OF HOEACE. ODE XX. TO MAECENAS. Nothing can be more simple in form and spirit than this ode, in which Horace invites Mfficenas to a homely entertainment in language equally unostentatious. In this, as in other of Horace's purely occasional odes, one feels the presence of the genuine poet by his abstemious avoidance of the would-be poetical. The date of the poem has been variously conjectured. Judging by the reference to the Sabine Avine which Mascenas is invited to drink, and which came into use in its second year, reaching its prime in its fourth, the poem would have been written between two and four years after the reception that the audience at the theatre gave to Maecenas on his recovery from his illness. But the date of that event is not determined. Franke and Liibker refer the composition of the ode to a.u.c. 729-730.. Macleane favours the latter year. Orelli inclines to Weber's date, from A.u.c. 726-727. Sabine wine poor thoul't drink in modest goblets, Into Greek cask I myself racked and sealed it, Knigbtly and dear MsDcenas, when the applausive Theatre hailed thee ; So that the banks of thine ancestral river, So that in choral symphony the Sprite- voice Haunting the Vatican mountain — sportive Echo — Rang back the plaudits. Elsewhere the costly Ceecuban thou quaffest, Or of the grape tamed in Calenian presses : No Formian hill-side, no Falernian cluster, Flavour my wine- cups. ODE XXI. IN PEAISE OF DIANA AND APOLLO. It was supposed by Franke that this hymn was composed for the first Celebration of the quinquennial games — Ludi Actiaci — instituted by Augustus In honour of Apollo and Diana, when he dedicated a temple to Apollo on the Palatine after his return from the taking of Alexandria, a.u.c. 726. rather to a statue like that of Hecate, in the temple of Diana at Ephe»s, which Pliny tells us the spectators were warned by the priests not to suffer the eye to rest upon too intently, so blindingly bright was the shine of the marble. BOOK I. — ODE XXII. 315 There are two objections to this supposition : — the one, observed bj^ ]^^acIeano, is in the word " priiicipc," for Augustus did not get that title till the idea of January, a.u.c. 727; and therefore after the first celebration of the Actian eames. I'he other objection is in the nature of the poem itself, which, as Orelli remarks, is of too light a quill for the ceremonial pomp of solemn games or earnest supplication. The reference to the Persians and Britons at the close would seem to intimate the same date as the 29th Ode of this Book, Avhen Augustus was preparing a military expedition against Britain and the East, viz. a.u.c. 727. The notion of Sanadon, that the ode was an introduction to the Secular Hymn, has long been exploded. Hyinu ye the praise of Diana, young maidens, Hymn ye, striplings, the unshorn Apollo. And hymn ye Latona, so dear To the Father Supreme in Olympus. Maidens, sing her who delights in the rivers. And the glad locks on the brow of the forests That nod over Algidus cold, Verdant Cragus and dark Erymanthus ; * Youths, sing of Tempe with emulous praises,' Delos, the fair native isle of Apollo, And sing of the shoulder adorned With the quiver, and shell of the Brother, f Moved by your prayer, may the god in his mercy Save, from war and from pest and from famine. Our people, and Ceesar our prince. And direct them on Persia and Britain. ODE XXII. TO ARISTIUS FUSCUS. Of Aristius Fuscus Horace speaks (Epp. i. 10) with particular affection. He says " they were almost twins in their tastes and sentiments." Fuscus appears to have been an author, but there is some doubt as to what he ♦ " Nigris aut Eryraanthi Silvis, aut viridis Cragi." The epithet "viridis" applied to Cragus is in opposition to "nigi-is" applied to Erymanthus, from the different kinds of foliage on either moun- tain, Ci-agus being covered with oak and beech, Erymanthus with pine and fir. t "Fratemaquo humcrum lyra"— tho shell invented by his brother Mercury. 316 THE ODES OF HORACE. ■wrote, — Acron says "Tragedies" — Porphyrian, "Comedies;" which lasr supposition seems more in keeping with the humorous joke he plays upon Horace, Sat. i. 9. Cruquius says he was a grammarian. He of life without flaw, pure from sin, need not borrow Or the bow or the darts of the Moor, my Fuscus ! He relies for defence on no quiver that teems with Poison-steept arrows ; Though his path be along sultry African Syrtes, Or Caucasian ravines, where no guest finds a shelter, Or the banks which Hydaspes, the River of Story, Licks languid-flowing. For as lately I strayed beyond pathways accustomed, And with heart free from care was of Lalage singing, A wolf in the thick of the deep Sabine forest Met, and straight fled me. All unarmed though I was ; yet so deadly a monster Warlike Daunia ne'er bred in her wide acorned forests, Nor the thirst-raging nurse of the lion — swart Juba's African sand-realm. Place me lone in the sterile wastes, where not a leaflet Ever bursts into bloom in the breezes of summer ; Sunless side of the world, which the grim air oppresses, Mist- clad and ice-bound ; Place me lone where the earth is denied to man's dwelling All so near to its breast glows the car of the day-god ; And I still should love Lalage — her the sweet-smiling, Her the sweet-talking.^' * " Dulce ridentem Lalagen amabo, Dulce loquentem." If i might have alloAved myself to expand the literal words of the original into what seems to me the sense implied by the poet, I should havp proposed to translate the lines thus : — "I still should love Lalage— see her, sweet smiling/ Sear her, sweet talking." For I take it that Horace does not merely mean that he would still love Lalage "sweetly smiling" and "sweetly talking" — an assui-ance Avhich seems in itself to belong to a school of poetry vulgarly called namby-pamby — but rather that, however solitary, still, and lifeless be the place to which he might be transported, he would still bo so true to her image, that in the BOOK I. — ODE XXIII. 817 ODE XXIII. TO CHLOK. This ode has the appearance of being imitated, though but slightly, from a fragment in Anacreon preserved in " Athenajus," ix. p. 396. Eut it is not the less an illustration of the native grace with which Horace invests his more trivial compositions. Like a fawn dost thou fly from me, Chloe, Like a fawn that, astray on the hill-tops, Her shy mother misses and seeks, Vaguely scared by the breeze and the forest. Shudders Spring,* newly bom, thro* quick leaflets ? Slips the green lizard stirring a bramble ! She is seized with a panic of fear, And her knees and her heart are one tremble. Nay, but not as a merciless tiger, Or an African lion I chase thee ; Ah ! cling to a mother no more. When thy girlhood is ripe for a lover. solitude he -would see her sweetljr smiling, and amidst the silence hear her sweetly talking. So Constance, in Shakespeare, says : — " Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in her bed, walks up and down with me, Futs on her pretty looks, repeats her tvords." * Munro, though preserving " veris " in the text, argues (Introduction, p. xxi.) in favour of the reading vepris, commended by Bentley and some earlier commentators. The main reason for his preference is, " that the advent of Spring must mean when the genitabilis aura Favoni begins to blow freshly and steadily ; that is, on some day in the month of February : but in the Italian forests the lightly moving leaves come almost, or quite, as late as in the English, and the zephyr blowing steadily for days together would be the last thing to startle a faAvn." This criticism is founded on nice observation of details in extenial nature, but I do not think such nicety of observation is a characteristic of Horace. The simile itself of the fawn is rather a proof of the con- trary; for the fawn just missing her dam is by no means of an age to be wooed, nor does she attract the courtship of the male till she hai parted company with the mother altogether, and ia mingling with the Okther doe*. •^ 318 THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE XXIV. TO VIRGIL ON THE DEATH OF QUINCTILIUS YARDS. Quinctilius died A.VA-.. /_30. Little is known of him beyond the mention with which he is immortf lised by Horace. In the Ars Poetica he is spoken of as dead, and as having been a frank and judiciously severe critic, who, if 3^ou trusted your verses to him, would bid you correct this and that. If you replied you could not do better — that you had tried twice or thrice in vain — he would tell you to strike the lines out altogether, and put them anew on the forge. This character as critic is in harmony with the character here assigned to him as man (verses 7, 8). What slianie or wliat restraint nnto the yearning For one so loved ? Music attuned to sorrow Lead * thou, Melpomene, to whom the Father ^ Gave liquid voice and lyre. So, the eternal slumber clasps Quinctilius, Whose equal when shall shame-faced sense of Honour, Incorrupt Faith, of Justice the twin sister. Or Truth disguiseless, find ? By many a good man wept, lie died ; — no mourner Wept with tears sadder than thine own, O Virgil ! Pious, alas, in vain ! thou redemandest Quinctilius from the gods ; \ Not on such terms they lent him ! — Were thy harp-strings Blander than those by which the Thracian Orpheus Charmed listening forests, never flows the life-blood Back to the phantom form. Which Hermes, not reopening Fate's closed portal At human prayer, amid the dark flock shepherds With ghastly rod. Hard ! yet still Patience lightens That which admits no cure. ♦ "Prsecipe"— "lead."--YoNGB. BOOK I.— ODE XXVI. 819 ODE XXV. TO LYDIA. Little need be said about this poem. The reader has been already warned against the assumption that in the application of names, evidently fictitious, to poems of this kind, the same person is designated by the same name. It is obviously too absurd to suppose that the blooming Lydia of the 13th Ode in this very book is identical with the faded hag lampooned in the following ode. The poem itself is, with others of the same kind, only valuable as illustrative of Horace's character on its urban or town-bred side — its com- bination of the man of a fashionable world when at Eome, and of the solitary poet wrapped in his fancies, and meditating his art amidst Sabine Avoods or in the watered valleys of Tibur. In the translation, the third and fourth stanzas of the original are omitted. In these omitted stanzas the taste is sufficiently bad to vitiate the poetry. Horace never Avrites worse than when he is cynical. Cynicism was in him a spurious affectation, con- trary to his genuine nature, which was singularly susceptible to amiable, graceful, generous, and noble impressions of man and of life. More rarely now shake thy closed windows With quick knocks of petulant gallants, — They break not thy sleep ; to thy threshold Fondly the door clings Once turning so glib on its hinges. Thou hear'st less and less, " Lydia, sleep'st thou ? 'Tis I — all night long for thee dying — I thine own lover ! " Now thou whin'st that this new generation Likes but young shoots of ivy and myrtle, And dedicates dry leaves to Hebrus * Winter's cold comrade ? ODE XXVI. TO ti. MLlVa LAMIA. Horace addresses this same Lamia again. Lib. Hr. Ode xviii. Lamia must have been vciy youug when tliis ode was written, the date of which is to be guessed from the reference to Tiridates and the Parthian disturbances. * " Hebro "—a river in Thiace : as we should say, " to the north pole.' 320 THE ODES OF HORACE. Assuming with Orelli, Macleane, and others, that it was composed A.u.c. 729, just before Tiridates fled from his kingdom, Lamia survived fifty-seven years, dying A. u. c. 786 (Tac. Ann. vi. 27). I, the friend of tlie Mnses, all fear and all sorrow Will consign to wild winds as a freight for Crete's ocean ; I, the one man who feels himself safe, Whatever king reigns at the Pole — Whatever the cause that appals Tiridates. Muse, thou sweetener of Life, haunting hill-tops Pimpleian, Whose delight is in founts ever pure, Weave the blooms opened most to the sun — O weave for the brows of my Lamia the garland t Nought my praise without thee. Let thyself and thy sisters Make him sacred from Time by the harp Heard at Lesbos ; but new be its strings. ODE XXVII. TO BOON COMPANIONS. In this poem, as in others of a convivial nature, Horace transports himself as it were into the midst of the company, and imparts an air of reality to an imaginary scene, so that it seems as if actually an impromptu. Brawl and fight over cups which were born but for plea- sure* Is the custom in Thrace. Out on manners barbaric, ' Do not put modest Bacchus to shame By the scandal of bloody affrays. In what strange want of keeping with wine-cups and lustres Are the dirks of the Mede. Hush that infamous clamour, Be quiet ! Companions ! seats — seats ! Lean in peace on prest elbows again ! Do you wish me to share a Falernian so doughty ? Well then, let the young brother of Locrian Megilla Reveal by what wound, by what shaft He is smitten and dies — happy boy. * " Natis in usum lastitiae scyphis." " Natis " — " bom," as if made by nature, and destined exclusively for that purpose.— Orelli. BOOK i. — ODE XXVIII. 321 What, refuse ? tut ! I drink on no other condition, Come, no matter what Venus may conquer thee — blush not, For we know that thy sins in that way Must be always high-bred and refined. Nay, thy secret is safe in these faithful ears whispered, Ha ! indeed luckless wretch ! whirled in what a Charybdis ! How I pity thy struggles, youth, Thou, so worthy less dismal a flame ! what witch or, with potions Thessalian, what wizard — Nay, what Grod could avail from such coils to release thee ? From that triple ChimaDra's embrace Scarce could Pegasus carry thee off. ODE XXVIII. ARCHYTAS. No ode in Horace lias been more subjected than this one to the erudite ingenuity of conHicting commentators ; nor are the questions at issue ever likely to find a solution in which all critics will be contented to agree. The earlier commentators took for granted that the ode was composed as a dialogue between the ghost of Archytas and a voyager. The voyager, landing on the shore of Matinus, finds there the unburied bones of Ajrchytas, and indulges in a sarcastic soliloquy, which ends either at verse 6, verse 16, verse 20, or, as Macleane was once of opinion, in the middle of verse 15 — " Sed omnes una manet nox." Two other theories have been started, by both of which Archytas is got rid of altogether. According to the first theory, the moralising voyager continues his reflections over the grave of the great geometrician, till (whether at verse 15, 16, or 20) the ghost, not of Archytas, but of another, whose bones are bleaching on the sand, rises up, accosts him, and prays to be sprinkled with the dust that may serve for burial and tit him for the Styx. The second theory, favoured by Macleane, and supported by Mr. Long, dispenses not only with Archytas, but with the notion of dialogue. Ac- cording to this conjecture, the whole poem is assigned to the ghost of a ship- wrecked and unburied man, who moralises over Archytas and the certainty of death, &c., till, seeing a living sailor approach, he asks for burial. Tliis supposition, the simplest in itself, and sanctioned by great critical autho- rities, appears to be gaining a more general, if recent, assent with scholars than any other hypothesis — and, after nmch consideration, I have adopted it in my vei-sion. If the poem is, however, to be considered a dialogue, I should not agree with Macleane in placing the division at verse 15,* but at * I believe that most ciitics are now agreed that if the poem be a Y 322 THE ODES OF HORACE. verse 20 — "Mequoque devexi," &c. The very abruptness of the inter- position of the ghost at that line, which has been considered by many critics objectionably harsh, appears to me a special merit. The ghost, commencing his appeal at that verse, goes at once to the purpose. He, being dead, has no need to say that all must die ; but, contenting himself with briefly infomiing the voyager that he has been drowned, hastens to implore the handfuls of dust which suffice for burial. That it is not Archytas himself Avho speaks, whether in monologue or dialogue, is, I think, made perfectly apparent by the second and third verses of the ode — " MoDsorem cohibent, Archyta, Pulveris exigui prope litus parva Matinum Munera," which I agree with Macleane in considering clearly to intimate that the body of Archytas has already received that wliicli he is supposed so earnestly to pray for. " For," thus continues this judicious scholar, " though many, I am aware, get over this difficulty by supposing "cohibent munera" to mean that the ^vant of the scanty gift of a little earth was keeping him back from his rest, I do not see how the words will bear that sense ; nor can I translate "cohibent" Avith Dillenburger and others as if it was meant that his body occupied only a small space on the surface of the ground. The words can only mean tnat he was under the sand, whether partially or otherwise, and in either case he could not require dust to be cast three times on him." — Macleane, "Introduction to Ode xxviii. Lib. I." The conjecture of Liibker and others that Horace is supposing himself to be a ghost drowned off Palinurus, is too far-fetched and fantastic for serious refutation. For these and other points in controversy the reader is referred to Orelli's Excursus and Macleane' s Introduction to this ode. The poem itself is singularly striking. Though abounding in those observations of the brevity of life and the certainty of death in which Horace so frequently indulges, with the half-sportive melancholy of a nature eminently sensuous, the poem has, on the whole, something almost of a Gothic character. The humour takes the sombre colour of the mediaeval Dance of Death, and is not Avithout a touch of the genius which speaks in the grave-diggers of Hamlet. It is impossible to fix a date for its composi- tion ; bu.t I incline to rank it among Horace's earlier odes, from a certain likeness in its tone and treatment to the 5th Epode, which has also some- what of the Gothic character in its gloomy earnestness of descriptioa, and its employment of the gi-otesque as an agency of terror. I concur in the general opinion that the scene is laid at the promontory of ]\[atinus, where Archytas is said to have had his tomb. Macleane sees no occasion for that supposition, and thinks the subject of the ode is more likely to have been suggested at Tarentum than elsewhere. He deems dialogue the first speaker cannot be interrupted at verse 6, or before Terse 15. The lines U, 15— " Judice te non sordidus auctor NatursD verique," seem to settle that question. Archytas, if commencing at line 16, could scarcely appeal to the sailor as a judge of the learning of Pythagoras, while the first speaker would very appropriately say that Archytas was a judge of i't. The attempt to get over this difficulty by corrupting a text sanctioned Iby all the MSS., and substituting "me judice" for "te judice," is nowa- days rejected by rational commentators, who rightly oppose unauthorised amendments of texts supported by the concurrence of MSS. BOOK I. — ODE XXVIII. 328 ' ' that the words ' Nei)tuno custode Ttirenti ' seem to fix the scene, and that it docs not appear why a person si)eaking at Mutiuus should talk of Neptune particularly as the * custos Tarenti.' " I do not sec the force of this objection. Neptune was particularly Jionourcd at Tarentuni, where he is said to have had a temple, and of which his son Tarus was the mythical founder. On the coins of Tarentum Neptune is represented as the tutelary deity. It would appear, therefore, quite natural that Neptune should be mentioned as tlie guardian of Tarentum, as Fortune is elsewhere mentioned as the guardian of Antium, Avithout supposing that the person so referring to the deity was in the neighbourhood of the place specially protected ; while the length at which Archyt as is addressed at the commencement seems to indicate the scene as that in wliich the philosopher so emphatically selected Avas buried. Archytas himself was a Greek of Tarentum, which would render yet more api)ropriate a reference to that city whoever may be supposed to be speaking — the poem having conunenced with the address to the shade of the great Tarentian. Archytas was amongst the most illustrious of the ancient worthies — a gcneraf, a statesman, a philosopher, and especially a mathematician. He belonged to the Pythagorean school, but is supposed to have founded a new sect. The alleged inventor of analytical geometry, he is said to have originated* the api)lication of mathematics to mechanics, and constructed a tlying dove of Avood, which was to the myths of the ancients what Roger Bacon's brazen head is to those of the moderns. He is considered to have been a contemporary of Plato, and Aristotle wrote a life of him Avhich is lost. The metre is the same as in Ode vii., but I have not employed the same meu: ui'e in the translation, thinking that the spirit of it requires the more elegiac rhythm which I have appropriated to some of the Epodes, and, indeed, to some other of the Odes. Thee, arcli-surveyor of the earth and ocean And the innumerous sands, Archytas, thee, Pent in a creeklet margined by Matinus, The scanty boon of trivial dust keeps close. What boots it now into the halls of Heaven To have presumed, and drawn empyreal air, Hanged through the spheres and with thy mind of mortal Swept through creation to arrive at death ? The sire of Pelops with the gods did banquet, And yet he died ; — remote into thin air Vanished, if lingering long, at last Tithonus ; Minos shared Jove's high secrets, — yet he died. The son of Panthous, though he called to witness * His ancient buckler and the times of Troy, That to grim Death ho gave but skin and sinew, Tartarus regains, — and, this time, holds him fast; * The shield of Euphorbus, son of Panthous (the valiant Trojan who Y 2 3£4 THE ODES OF HORACE. Yet he of Truth and Nature, in thy judgment, Was an authority of no mean rank. But one Night waits for all, and one sure pathway Trodden by all, and only trodden once. Some do the Furies to stern Mars exhibit On the red stage in which disports his eye ; The greedy ocean swallows up the sailors ; Old and young huddled swell the funeral throng : And not a head * escapes the ruthless hell -queen, Me also, Notus,t hurrying on to join His comrade setting amidst storm, Orion, Plunged into death amid Illyrian waves. But thou, sailor, churlishly begrudge not A sand-grain to my graveless bones and skull ; So may whatever the east wind shall threaten To waves Hesperian, pass thee harmless by And waste its wrath upon Venusian forests : So from all-righteous Jove and him who guards Tarentum's consecrated haven, Neptune, Be every profit they can send thee showered. Think'st thou 'tis nought to doom thy guiltless children To dread atonement for their father's wrong ? Nay, on thyself may fall dire retribution And the jusfc laws that give back scorn for scorn. I'll not be left, with prayers disdained, revengeless, No expiation could atone such crime ; Whate'er thy haste, this task not long delays thee— A little dust thrice sprinkled — then away. wounded Patroclus), was preserved with other trophies in the temple of Juno at or near Mycena) ; and, according to a well-known legend, Pytha- goras recognised this shield as that which he had borne when he li\-od in the person of Euphorbus. The son of Panthous, therefore, means Pythagoras, whom the speaker sarcastically compliments as no mean judge of truth and nature in the opinion of Archytas, who belonged to his school. * " Xnllum sccva caput Proserpina fugit" — in allusion to the lock of hair wliicli, according to the popular superstition, Proserpine cut ofi' ft-om the head of the dying. t"Me also, Notus," &c. If the poem be supposed a dialogue, it seems to me that this is the place at which the second speaker, as tlio ghost of an uuburicd man, suddenly starts up and interposes.— See Intro- duction. BOOK I. — ODE XXX. 325 ODE XXIX. TO ICCIUS. In the 12th Ode of tliis Book Horace refen-ed to tlie expedition into Arabia Felix meditated by Augustus, and which was sent from Egypt, A.u.c. 730, under the command of the Governor of Egypt, ^lius Gallus. Many Roman youths were attracted to this expedition by love of adventure and hope of spoil; among others, the Iccius here addressed, who survived to become the peaceful steward to Vispanius Agrippa's estates in Sicily. The good-natured banter on the warlike ardour conceived by a student of philosophy, was probably quite as much enioyed by Iccius liimself as by any one. They who suppose that so well-bred a man of the world as Horace is always insinuating moral reproofs to the friends he publicly addresses, are the only persons likely to agree with the scholiasts that he means gravely to rebuke Iccius for avarice in coveting the wealth of tlie Arabs. So, Iccius, thou grudgesfc their wealth to the Arabs, Wouldst war on kings Sheban, as yet never conquered, And art sternly preparing the chains For the limbs of the terrible Mede ? What virgin barbaric shall serve thee as handmaid, Her betrothed being laid in the dust by thy falchion ? And what page, born and bred in a court, Nor untaught Seric arrows to launch From a bow-string paternal, with locks sleek and perfumed, Shall attend at thy feasts, and replenish thy goblets ? Who that rivers can flow to their founts. And the Tiber runs back, will deny, If the sage of a promise so rare can surrender All that priceless collection, the works of Panastius, And the school in which Socrates taught. In exchange for a Spanish coat-mail ? ODE XXX. VENUS INVOKED TO GLYCERA's FANE. This ode has the air of a complimentary copy of verses to some fair freed- woman who had fitted up a pretty fane to Ve^jus, probably in the grotto, or antrum, attached to her residence. 326 THE ODES OF HORACE. Venus, queen of Cnidos and of PapTios, Spurn thy loved Cyprus — here transfer thy presence : Decked is the fane to which, with incense lavish, Glycera calls thee. Bring with thee, glowing rosy red, the Boy-god, Nymphs and loose-girdled Graces, and — if wanting Thee, wanting charm — bring Youth, nor let persuasive * Mercury fail us. ODE XXXI. PRAYER TO APOLLO. After the battle of Aetiuin, Augustus, in commencing tlie task of social reformer, restored the ancient temples and built new ones. Amongst the latter, A.u.c. 726, he dedicated to Apollo a temple, with a library attached to it, on the Palatine. This charming poem expresses the poet's private supplication to the god thus newly installed. What demands at Apollo's new temple the poet ? For what prays he ontpouring new wine in libation ? Not fertile Sardinia's rich sheaves, Not sunny Calabria's fair herds ; Neither prays he for gold, nor the ivory of Indus, Nor the meadows whose margin the calm-flowing Liris Eats into with murmurless wave. Let those on whom Fortune bestows So luxurious a grape, prune the vine-trees of Cales, And let trade's wealthy magnate exchange for the vintage Spiced cargoes of Syria, and drain Cups t sculptured for pontiffs in gold ; Dear, indeed, to the gods must be he who revisits Twice and thrice every year the Atlantic, unpunished : To me for a feast, mallows light. And endives and olives suffice. * For the addition of this explanatory epithet, see the notes of Orelli and Dillenburger. t " CuluUis," sculptured cups used by the pontiffs and Yestal virgins in the sacred festivals. BOOK I. — ODE XXXIII. 327 Give mo health in myself to enjoy the things granted, thou son of Latona ; sound mind in sound body ; Keep mine age free from all that degrades, And let it not fail of the lyre, ODE XXXII. TO HIS LYEE. This short invocation to his lyre has the air of a prelude to some medi- tated poem of jxreatcr importanoe. Several of the ifanuscripts commence " Poseimus," whieli reading Bentlc}' adopts. The modern editors agree in preferring " Poscimur," which has moi'e of the outburst of song, and renders the poem more directly an address to the lyre. We are summoned. If e'er, under shadow sequestered, Has sweet dalliance with thee in light moments of leisure Given birth to a something which lives, and may, haply. Live in years later, Rouse thee now, and discourse in the strains of the Roman, Vocal shell, first attuned by the patriot of Lesbos, Who, in war though so fierce, yet in battle, or mooring On the wet sea-sand His bark, tempest- tossed, chaunted Liber, the Mnses, Smiling Venus, the Boy ever clinging beside her. And, adorned by dark locks and by eyes of dark lustre, Beautiful Lycus. O thou grace of Apollo, charm in Jove's banquets, Holy shell, dulcet solace of labour and sorrow, O respond to my greeting, when I, with rite solemn, Duly invoke thee. ODE XXXIII. TO ALBIUS TIBULLUS. This poem is addressed to the most touching of all the Latin elegiac poets, TibuUus. Various but not satisfactory attempts have been made to identify Glycera with one of the two mistresses, Nemesis and Delia, celebrated in Tibullus's extant elegies. 328 THE ODES OF HORACE. Nay, Albius, my friend, set some bounds to tliy sorrow, Let not this ruthless Glycera haunt thee for ever, Nor, if in her false eyes a younger outshine thee, Such heart-broken elegies dole. With passion for Cyrus glows low-browed Lycoris,* Cyrus swerving to Pholoe meets with rough usage : When with wolves of Apulia the roe has her consort. With that sinner Pholoe shall sin. 'Tis ever the way thus with Venus — it charms her To mate those that match not in mind nor in person ; In jest to her yoke she compels the wrong couples ; Alas ! cruel jest, brazen yoke ! Myself, when a far better love came to woo me, Myrtale the slave-born detained in fond fetters ; And Hadria can fret not the bay of Tar en turn So sorely as she fretted me. ODE XXXIV. TO HIMSELF. In this poem Horace appears to recaut the Epicurean doctrine, Avliich referred to secondary causes, and not to the providential agency of Divine power, the government of the universe, and which he professed, Sat. I. v. 101, and Epp. I. iv. 16. But, in fact, he candidly acknoAvledges his own inconsistency in all such matters, and is Stoic or Epicurean by fits and starts. In this ode he evidently connects the phenomenon of thunder in a serene sky with the sudden revolutions of fortune. The concluding verses are generally held to refer to the Parthian revolution, in wliich power was * "Insignem tenui fronte Lycorida." So again, " Nigros angusta fronte capillos." — Epp. I. vii. 26 : a low forehead seems to have long remained in fashion. Petronius, c. 126, in describing a beautiful woman, says, " Frons minima et qua? apices capillorum retro flexerat." Low foreheads came into fashion again at the close of the last century with the French Republic. Both with men and women the hair was then brought down to the very eye- brow, as may be seen in the portraits of that time. Yet the Greek sculptors in the purer age of art did not give low foreheads to their ideal images of beauty, and it is difficult to guess why an intellectual people like the Eomans should have admired a peculiarity fatal to all frank and noble ex- pression of the human countenance. The Roman ladies were accustomed to hide their foreheads by a bandage, elegantly called "nimbus" — i.e., the cloud which accompanied the appearance of the celestials. BOOK I. — ODE XXXIV. 329 transfen-ed now from Phraates to Tiridates, and again from Tiiidates back to Phraates. In the last stanjca — "Hinc apicem rapax Fortuna cum stridore acuto Sustulit, hie posuisse gaudet" — it was suggested in the " Cambridge Philological Museum," May, 1832, that Horace had in his mind tlie legend of the eagle taking off the cap of Tarquinius. For the convenience of the general reader the story may be briefly thus told. Demaratus, one of the Bacchiadae of Corinth, flying from his native city when Cypselus destroy(3d the power of that aristocratic order, settled at Tarquinii, in Etruria, and manled an Etruscan wife. His son Lucumo succeeded to his wealth, and married Tanaquil, of one of the noblest families in Tarquinii, but being, as a stranger, excluded from state offices, Lucumo, urged by his wife, resolved to remove to Rome. Just as he and his procession reached the Janiculum, within sight of Home, an eagle seized his cap, soared with it to a great height — " cum magno clangore " — and then replaced it on his head. Tanaquil predicted to him the highest honours from this omen, and Lucumo, who assumed the name of Tarquinius Priscus, ultimately obtained the Roman throne. ]\[acleane, in referring to the legend, and to the reference to Phraates, thinks it not probable that Horace meant to allude to both these historical facts together, and is there- fore inclined to suppose that he intended neither one nor the other. His objection does not impress me. Nothing is more probable than that Horace should exemplify the sudden act of fortune in the Parthian revolution and render his allusion more lively by a metaphor borrowed from a familiar Roman myth. Worshipper rare and niggard of the gods, While led astray, in the Fool's wisdom versed, Now back I shift the sail, Forced in the courses left behind to steer : For not, as wont, disparting serried cloud With fiery flash, but through pure azure, drove Of late Diespiter His thundering coursers and his winged car ; Wherewith the fixed earth and the vagrant streams — Wherewith the Styx and horror-breathing realms Of rayless Teenarus, shook — Shook the world's end on Atlas. A god reigns, Potent the high with low to interchange. Bid bright orbs wane, and those obscure come forth : Shrill-sounding,* Fortune swoops — Here snatches, there exultant drops, a crown. * " Cum stridore acuto." These words (if Horace really had, here, the Tarquinian legend in his mind) are very suitable to the swoop of the eagle, descriptive alike of the noise of its scream and the shrilly whirr of its wings. 330 THE ODES OF HORACE, ODE XXXY. TO FOETUNE. Maeleane places the date of this ode a.u.c. 728, when Augustus was medi- tating an expedition against the Britons and another against the Arabs, Fortune is here distitiguished from Necessity, and recognised as a Divine Intelligence, rather with the attributes of Proridence than those of Fate. As Fortune had her oldest temples in Rome, so she seems to have been the last goddess ^vhose worship was deserted by the Eoman emperors. Goddess, wlio o*er tMne own loved* Antium reignest Potent alike to raise aloft the mortal From life's last mean degree, Or change his haughtiest triumphs into graves ; — To thee the earth's poor tiller prays imploring — To thee, Queen-lady of the deeps, whoever Cuts with Bithynian keel A passing furrow in Carpathian seas.f Thee Dacian rude — thee Scythia's vagrant nomadf — Thee states and races — thee Rome's haughty children — Thee purple tyrants dread, And the pale mothers of Barbarian kings. Lest thou spurn down with scornful foot the pillar Whereon rest States ; § lest all, from arras yet ling'ring. To arms some madding crowd Bouse with the shout to which an empire falls. * " Gratum — Antium." Orelli prefers interpreting "gratum" (\\ " dileetum," "dear to the goddess," rather than as "amoonum," or "pleasant." t i. e., whether man ploughs earth or sea he equally prays to Fortune. ;|; " Profugi Scythia)." The epithet " profugi " applies to the nomad character of the Scyth, not to simulated flights as those of the Parthian cavalry. § " Stantem columnam." The standing column was the emblem of fixity and firmness. "In ancient monuments," saj's Dillenburger, "the column is thus assigned to images of Peace, Security^ Felicity." Tlocacc naturally writes in the spirit of his land and age in deprecating civil tumult as the most formidable agency for the overthrow of the column and the destruction of government and orcl VIC ier. BOOK I. — ODE XXXV, 831 Thee doth Tintaniod Necessity for ever Stalk fierce before ; — the ship nails and the wedges Bearing in grasp of bron:5e, Which lacks nor molten lead nor stedfast clamp.* But thee Hope follows, and rare Faith, the white-robed, True to thee, cv'n when thou thyself art altered, And from the homes of Power Passest away, in moux^ning weeds, a foe ; While the false herd, the parasite, the harlot, Shrink back : their love is dried up with the wine-cask, Their lips reject its lees ; Their necks will halve no yoke that Sorrow draws. Guard Ctesar, seeking on earth's verge the Briton, — Guard Rome's young swarm of warriors on the wing. Where they alight, to awe The rebel East and Araby's red sea. Shame for the scars, the guilt, the blood of brothers ! What have we shunned — we, the hard Age of Iron ? What left undared of crime ? What youthful hand has fear of heaven restrained, Where stands an altar sacred from its rapine ? Dread goddess, — steel made blunt in impious battles On anvils new reforge ; And turn its edge on Arab and on Scyth ! * Most recent coninicntators of autliority agree in rejecting the notion of the commentator in Cruquius, adopted by earlier editors, that " uncus" and "phimbura" are used here as emblems of punishment and crime, and con- sider them as emblems of tenacity and fixity of purpose. Macleane observes tliat the metaphor of molten lead for strengthening buildings is employed b^' Euripides, " Androin.," 267. Herder suggests that the whole pietui-e of Necessity and her attributes is taken from some picture in the temple of Fortune at Antium. 33a THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE XXXVI. ON NU MI da's return FROM SPAIN. Horace congratulates Numida on his return from Spain — probably from the amiy with Augustus, A.r.c. 730. "Who Numida was cau be only matter of conjecture. Repay both with incense and harp-string, Repay with the heifer's blood due, Numida's guardians divine ; Safe back from Hesperia the farthest. Now among loving friends shares he many a brotherly kiss, But the portion of Lamia is largest ; Mindful of childhood subjected to the same monarch's * control. And how they both, donning the toga, Leapt into manhood together. Let not this happy day lack Its record of white by the Crete stone : Be there no stint to the wine- cask, be there no pause to the feet, Blithe in the bound of such measure Salii on holidays dance to ! Bassus shall gallantly vie With Damalis, queen of she-topers. Toss off his cup with a swallow like the grand drinkers of Thrace ; f And banquets shall want not the roses, Garlands of parsley the long-lived, garlands of lilies the brief. All eyes shall for Damalis languish ; But yet more encircling than ivy, climbing its way as it winds. Shall Damalis, proof to their glances. Turning aside from the old loves, cling root and branch to the new. * " Memor actae non alio rege puertiae." Most modem scholars by "rege" undei'staud schoolmaster. t " Threicia amystide." " Amystis " was a deep draught taken without drawing breath. «3(i-:\ BOOK I. — ODE XXXVII. 883 ODE XXXVII. ON THE FALL OF CLEOPATRA. Ill this ode Horiice conspicuously manifests his unrivalled art of com- bining terseness and completeness. "^ The animated rapidity with which the images succeed each other docs not render them less distinct. The three pictui-es of Cleopatra constitute the action of a drama ; her insolent power with its Oriental surroundings,— her flight and fall,— her undaunted deatli. j\nd while, with his inherent manliness of sentiment, Horace compels ad- miration for the foe who defrauds the victor of his triumph, and dies i^ q^ueen, that very generosity of his serves more to justify the joyous exulta- tion with Avhich the poem commences, since it implies the determined nature of the great enemy from whom Rome is delivered. The date of the poem is sufficiently clear. M. Tullius Cicero, son of the orator, brought to Home the news of the taking of Alexandria, and the deaths of Antony and Cleopatra, Sept. A.u.c. 724, suggesting this exhortation to private and public rejoicings. It Avill be observed here, as elsewhere, how Horace avoids naming Mark Antony. Two lines from a fragment of Alcieus arc cited by commentators to show that the commencement of this ode is imitated from them. They rather serve to show with what sedulous avoidance of servility Horace does imitate, and how thoroughly lloman the whole treatment of his poem is, whatever be the lines to which a Greek poem may furnish hint and suggestion. Now is the time, companions, for caronsal, Free now the foot to strike the earth in dances, For Salian banquets * now Deckt be the couches on which gods repose. Sinful before were Caecuban wines time-mellowed, While for the Capitol the crash of ruin — While for the life of Rome — Funereal fates, the madding Queen prepared. Girt with a herd obscene of tainted outcasts, Fooled by false hope and drunken with sweet Fortune ; Tamer her frenzy grew When from the flames slunk, scarcely slunk, one ship! * The Salii were the priests of Mars Gradlvus, twelve in number. Tlieir habitual festival was in Marqh, when they paraded the city in their official robes, carrying with them the twelve sacred shields of Mars, which they Btruck with rods, keeping time to the stroke by song and dance. At the conclusion of the festival the Salii partook of a bancjuet, proverbial for its magniticence, in the temple of Mars. " Pulvinaria " are the couches on ■which the Btutucs were placed, as if the gods themselves were bauiiueters. 334 THE ODES OP HORACE. Speeding to change to real forms of terror Yain dreams by Mareotic fnmes * engendered, Fast on her hurrying flight From Latian coasts press C^esar^s rapid oars. As on the cowering do7e descends the falcon, As the keen hunter thro' the snows of Haemus Chases the hare, he comes To bind in chains this fatal Prodigy. For chains too nobly born, she dies and spurns them, She from no sword recoils with woman shudder, — She crowds no sail to shores Where life might save itself and lurk obscure. Brave to face fallen grandeur and void palace With, look serene ; brave to provoke the serpents That, where they fixed, their fangs Her form might readiest drink the poison in ; Sterner thro' death deliberate, she defrauded The fierce Liburniansf of the victor's triumph ; She, forsooth, captive, She ! No, the grand woman to the last was Queen ! ODE XXXVIII. TO HIS WINE-SEEYER. Boy, I detest the pomp of Persic fashions — Coronals wreathed with linden rind| displease me ; Cease to explore each nook for some belated Rose of the autumn. *"Mentemque lympbatam Mareotico." " Lymphatam " denotes panic or visionary terrors ("lymphata somnia"). "Lympha" and " nympha," as Maeleane observes, are the same word. Nympholepsy was tlie madness occasioned by the sight of the nymph flashing up from the fountain, scaring the traveller out of his senses; and *' lymjdiatus " literally means "driven mad by the glare of Avater." Horace ascribes this effect to the fumes, or perhaps rather the sparkle, of the Mai-eotic wine, produced on the banks of Lake Mareotis, in the neighbourhood of Alexandria. t " Liburnians," light swift- sailing vessels, which constituted a chief porWon of Augustus's fleet at Actium. i " rhilyia," the rind of the lime-tree used in elaborate garlands. BOOK I. — ODE XXXVIIT. 385 Weave with plain myrtle nothing else, I bid thee j Thee not, in serving, misbecomes the myrtle, Me not, in drinking, underneath the trcllised Bowery vine-leaves.* * " Sub ai-ta vite " — " artu," " close," " embowering ; " as in the trellised vine-arbours still common in Italy and parts of Gei'many. BOOK IL— ODE I. TO ASINIUS POLLIO. Pollio was among Caesar's generals when he crossed the Rubicon, and at the battle of Pharsalia. After Ctesar's death he joined M. Antony, and sided with him in the Perusian war. He remained neutral after the battle of Actium. Indeed he retired from an active shai-e in public life after his victorious expedition against the Parthini, an Illyrian people bordering on Dalmatia, and it is to that victory which Horace refers as the " Dalmatian triumiA." He then gave himself up to literature. His tragedies, of Avhich there are no remains, are highly praised by Virgil, who says they were worthy of Sophocles. Porphyrion says he was the only one of his time Avho could write tragedy well. But the author of the " Dialog, de Oratoribus " asserts that both as a tragic writer and an orator his style Avas hard and dry. His History appears to have been in seventeen books ; and it is after having heard him read a part of it (he is said to have introduced at Rome the cus- tom of such readings to assemblies, more or less familiar, before publication) that we may suppose Horace to have written the ode, of which the date is uncertain. Pollio appears to have been one of the most truly illustrious, and certainly one of the most accomplished, personages of the Augustan era. The civil feuds wliicli from Metellns date, The causes, errors, conduct of the war, Fortune's capricious sport, The fatal* friendships of august allies, And arms yet crusted with inexpiate blood ; — Such work is risked upon a perilous die ; Thou tread'st on smouldering fires, By the false lava heaped on them concealed. Let for awhile the tragic Muse forsake Her stage, till thou set forth the tale of Rome, Then the grand gift of song, With the Cecropian buskin, reassume, Pollio, in forum and in senate famed. Grief's bold defender, counsel's thoughtful guide, For whom the laurel, won In fields Dalmatian, blooms forth ever green. BOOK II.-— ODE II. 337 Now, now, thou strik'st the ear with murmurous threat From choral horns — now the loud clarions blare ; Lightnings from armour flashed, Daunt charging war- steeds * and the looks of men ! Now, now, I seem to hear the mighty chiefs, Soiled with the grime of no dishonouring dust, And see all earth subdued, Save the intrepid soul of Cato. Foiled Of her revenge, Juno, with all the gods, Quitting the Afric they had loved in vain, Back to Jugurtha's shade Brought funeral victims in his conqueror's sons. What field, made fertile by the Roman's gore, Attests not impious wars by ghastly mounds, And by the crash, borne far To Median ears, or falling Italy ? What gulf, what stream, has boomed not with the wail Of dismal battle-sfcorms ? What sea has hues From Daunian carnage pure. What land has lacked the tribute of out blood ? Hush, wayward Muse, nor, playful strains laid by. Strive to recast the Cean's t dirge-like hymn ; In Dionsean grot, With me, seek measures tuned to lighter quill. ODE II. TO C. SALLUSTIUS CRISPUS, GRAND-NEPHEW OF THE HISTORIAN. Many years before this ode, wliich is assigned to A.u.c. 730, Horace satirises tlie frailties of this personage, who was then a young man (Sat. I. * "Fugaces terret equos." "Fugaces" here does not mean steeds in flight, but rather in charge— it applies to their swiftness.— Poupiiyrion. Orelli adopts that interpretation. t " Cea) — neniffi." llorace docs not confine this word to the usual sense of a dirge; but it suits the quality of Simonidcs's poetry, which was of a severe and melancholy cast.— Macleane. Z 338 THE ODES OF HOKACE. ii. 48). He was now second only to Msecenas in the favour of Augustus, to whom he subsequently became tne chief adviser, Tacitus gives a vigorous sketch of his character. He died a.d. 20. Yes, Sallust, scorn tlie mere inactive metal ; There is no lustre of itself in silver, While niggard earth conceals ; from temperate usage Comes its smooth polish. Known by the heart of father for his brethren, Time's latest age shall hear of Proculeius.* Him shall uplift, and on no waxen pinion, Fame, the survivor. Wider thy realm, a greedy soul subjected, Than if to Libya joined the farthest Gades, And either Carthage t to thy single service Ministered riches. The direful dropsy feeds itself, increasing ; To expel the thirst we must expel the causes, And healthier blood must chase the watery languor From the wan body. Virtue, dissentient from the vulgar judgment. Strikes from the list of happy men Phraates, Ev'n when restored to the great throne of Cyrus ; Virtue unteaches Faith in false doctrines mouthed out by the many, Holding safe only his realm, crown, and laurel, Whose sight nor blinks, nor swerves, though, heaped before it. Shine the world's treasures. * Proculeius, a friend and near connection of Maecenas, with whom he is coupled by Juvenal (S. vii. 94) as a patron of letters, is said by tlie scholiasts to have divided his fortune with his brothers Licinius Murena, and Fannius Cffipio, whose property had been despoiled in the civil wars. It is doubted, however, whether Licinius was his brother or cousin, and whether Caepio was related to him. Proculeius was among the Koman knights on whom Augustus thought of bestowing Julia in marriage. t "Either Carthage"— viz., the African Carthage and her colonies in Spain. BOOK II. — ODE IIJ, 339 ODE III. TO Q. DELLIUS. The commentator in Cruauius has Gellius for Dellius, assuming the per- son addressed to be L. Gellius Poplicola, bi-othcr of Mcssalla, the famous orator. But the common supposition is that the poem is addressed to Q. Dellius, to whose changeful and adventurous life its admonitions would be very appropriate. Dellius sided first with Dolabella, then went over to Cassius, then to M. Antony and Cleopatra. To Cleopatra he is said to have dictated the advice that she should rather subjugate.M. Antony than be subjugated by him. Not long before the battle of Actium, he gave some offence to Cleopatra, probably more serious than that which has been assigned — viz., a sarcasm on the mcagreness of her entertainments — and deserted Antony for Augustus, by whom he Avas cordially received. Like so many other public men of Ids time he cultivated literature, and wrote a history (now lost) of the war against the Partliians, in which he served under Antony. A terse sketch of his versatile career will be found in Estre, "Pros. Herat.," 314. With a mind undisturbed take life's good and life's evil, Temper grief from despair, temper joy from vainglory ; For, through each mortal change, equal mind, O my Dellius, befits mortal-born. Whether all that is left thee of life be but trouble, Or, reclined at thine ease amid grassy recesses. Thy Falernian, the choicest, records How serenely the holidays glide. Say, for what do vast pine and pale poplar commingle Friendly boughs that invite to their welcoming shadow ? * Wherefore struggles and murmurs the rill Stayed from flight by a curve in the shore ? f * "The oldest and best MSS. have 'quo,' which signifies 'to what pur- pose; ' as, *Quo mihi fortunam, si non conceditur uti.^' (Epp. I. v. 12). He seems to mean, ' What were the stream and the cool shade given for ? Bring out the wine and let us drink.' " — Macleane. Youge, in his notes, cites parallels, from English poets with the elegance of taste which characterises his edition. t "Laborat — trepidare." The stream struggles or labours to huiTV on (trepidare), being obstructed by the curve in the bank (oblique rivo), from wliich delay comes its pleasant muimur."— Ouelli. z 2 340 THE ODES OF HORA.CE. Thither, lo, bid them bring thee the wine and the per- fumes, And the blooms of the pleasant rose dying too swiftly ; While thy fortune, and youth,* and the woof Of the Three Fatal Sisters allow. Woodlands dearly amassed f round the home proudly builded, Stately villa with walls laved by Tibor's dun waters, Thou must quit ; and the wealth piled on high Shall become the delight of thine heir. For no victim has Death either preference or pity. Be thy race from the king who first reigned o'er the Argive, Or thy father a beggar, thy roof Yonder sky, — 'tis the same to the G-rave. Driven all to that fold ; | in one fatal urn shaken. Soon or late must leap forth the sure lot for an exile In the dark passage-boat which comes back To the sweet native land never more. ODE lY. TO XANTHIAS PHOCEUS. Xanthias Phoeeus is evidently a "fictitious designation. Xanfhias is a Greek name, and given by Aristophanes to slaves ; and Phoeeus character- ises the person named as a Phocian. The date of the ode is clearly a.u.c. 729, or the beginning of 730, when Horace, bom A.u.c. 689, was just con- cluding his eighth lustre. * " -iEtas," which Acron translates "youth," an interpretation approved by Estre and Macleane. It more accurately, however, means " the time of life," including every period before that in which old age deadens the sense of such holiday enjoyments. Dellius was not young at the date of this poem ; but, at yeai's more advanced, M. Antony was young enough to enjoy the present hour rather too much. t " Coemptis saltibus." "Bought up," "extensive properties added together. ' ' — Yonge . J"Cogimur." "Gregis instar compellimur" — "we are driven like sheep." — Orelli. BOOK It.— ODE V. 34 L Love for thy handmaid, Xanthias, need not shame thee : Long since the slave Brisc'is, with white beauty, O'ermastering him who ne'er before had yielded,* Conquered Achilles ; So, too, the captive form of fair Tecmessa Conquered her captor Telamonian Ajax ; And a wronged maiden, in the midst of triumph, Fired Agamemnon, What time had fallen the barbarian forces Before the might of the Thessalian victor, And Hector's loss made easy to worn Hellas Troy's mighty ruin. How dost thou know but what thy fair-hair'd Phyllis May make thee son-in-law to splendid parents ? Doubtless she mourns the wrong to race and hearth-gods Lijured, but regal. Believe not thy beloved of birth plebeian ; A girl so faithful, so averse from lucre. Could not be born of an ignoble mother Whom thou wouldst blush for. That lovely face, those arms, those tapering ankles — Nay, in my praises never doubt mine honour : The virtuous man, who rounds the age of forty, Hold unsuspected. ODE Y. TO GABINIUS. This ^ocm is designated variously in the MSS. as " I-alago," " To the Lover ot Lalage," &c. According to one early MS. (the Zurich), it is in- scribed to Gabinius. But even Estre cannot tell us who Gabinius was, though Orelli conjectures him to have been son or ^i-uiulson to A. Gabinius, Cicero's enemy. The poem is of very general application, and the leading idea is expressed with great elegance and spirit. * " lusolentcm — Achillem." I agree with Yongo in his suggestion that ♦* insolentem " means " not wont to be moved." 34?. THE ODES OP HORACE. Not yet can she bear, witli neck supple, the yoke. Not yet with another submit to be paired ; Immature for the duties of mate, And the fiery embrace of the bull, Thine heifer confines all her heart to green fields ; Now pausing to slake summer heats in the stream,. Now with steerlings yet younger at play Midst the sallows that drip on the shore. Till ripe, do not long for the fruit of the grape ; Anon varied Autumn shall deepen its hues, And empurple the clusters that now Do but pallidly peep from the leaf : Anon, 'tis thyself she will seek ; fervent Time Speeds on, adding quick to her youth's crowning flower Blooming seasons subtracted from thine ; Then shall Lalage glow for a spouse : And then not so lovely the coy Pholoe, Nor Chloris resplendent with shoulders of snow. As a moon in the stillness of night Shining pure on the calm of a sea ; Nor even Cnidian Gryges, whom, placed amid girls. No guest the most shrewd could distinguish from them, So redundant the flow of his locks. And his face so ambiguously fair. ODE yi. TO SEPTIMIUS. It is a reasonable conjecture, though nothing more, that thia is the same Septimius whom Horace introduces to Tiberius, Ep. I. ix., and whom Augustus mentions in a letter to Horace, preserved in the life attributed to Suetonius. The scholiast in Cruquius says that he was a Roman knight, and had been fellow-soldier with Horace ; that a Titius Septimius wrote lyrics and tragedies in the time of Augustus ; and there are those Avho make the Septimius of the ode identical with the Titius of whom Horace speaks in his Epistle to Julius Florus, lib. i. 3, v. 9, ct scq. All this is uncertain ; not less uncertain is the date at which the ode Avas composed. BOOK II. — ODE VIL 343 To tho world's end fhou'dst go with mo, Septimius, View tribes Cantabrian, for our yoke too savage ; And barbarous Syrtes, where the Moorish billow Whirls, ever-seething ; No, my Septimius, may mine age close calmly In that mild Tibur by the Argive founded ; There, tired of ranging lands and seas, and warfare, Reach my last limit. Or if such haven the hard Fates deny me, Thee will I seek, Galoesus, gentle river. Dear to flocks skin-clad ; * and thy rural kingdom, Spartan Phalanthus.f Out of all earth most smiles to me that corner. Where the balmed honey yields not to Hymettus, Where olives vie with those whose silvery verdure Gladdens Venafrum ; Where Jove bestows long springs and genial winters. And Anion's mount, friend to a fertile Bacchus, Never has cause the purple of Falernian Clusters to envy. Both thee and me that place, those blessed hill-tops, Invite ; thy tear shall there l3edew the relics Of thy lost poet-friend, while yet there lingers Warmth in the ashes. ODE VII. TO POMPEIUS VAETJS. The person addressed in this charming ode must not be confounded with the rich Pompeius Grosphus, to whom the 16th Ode, Book II., is inscribed. « "Pcllitis o\ibu8." " Pellitis" is supposed by Orelli and others to refer to the hides with which the fleeces of the sheep were protected from thorns and brambles and atmospheric changes. t Tarcntum, of which Phalanthus, the leader of the emigrant Parthenie, after the first Messenian war, got possession. 344 THE ODES OF HORACE. Ob, oft with me, in last extremes of peril,* Brother in arms, what time our chief was Brutus, — Who to thy native gods, To skies Italian and the Roman rights, Hath thee restored, — chief of my friends, Pompeius ? With whom how oft has loitering day been broken O'er brimmed cups, our locks Flower-crowned, and glistening with Arabian balms ! With thee I shared, in field and flight, Philippi ; — Where, not too bravely, left behind my buckler, f When Valour's self gave way, And tongues that threatened loudest~licked the dust. But me swift Mercury J rapt thro' lines of foemen, And bore aloft in cloud, secure but trembling ; Thee did the stormy surge Into the whirl of battle drag once more. To Jove, then, give the feast thou ow'st his mercy, And rest the limbs with lengthened warfare wearied Under my laurel. Come, Nor spare yon casks :— they were reserved for thee. * " Tompus in ultimiim" — "in sunimuin vita) diserimen " (in extremest danger of life). See Catullus, 64, 151 — " Supremo in tempore ; " et v. 169 — "Extreme tempore sseva fors," &c. — Orelli. t " Relicta non bene parmula ; Cum fracta virtus, ct minaces Turpe solum tetigere mento." Horace's modest confession of having left his shield behind him at Philippi has been very harshly perverted into a proof of cowardice —probably the last accusation to which a soldier who had shared with his friend the extremest dangers of Brutus Avould be fairly subjected. The accusation derived from his own playful reference is confuted by the lines that imme- diately follow: — When valour was broken, and those who had most menaced touched ground with their chins — i, c, as Orelli construes it, begged for quarter, than which flight itself was more honourable. In fact, Brutus himself advised flight. We much prefer this interpretation to that which would make Horace sneer at those haughty boasters for bchif/ slain. Horace was the last man to sneer at the soldier who fell bravely in battle, wliile he has specially singled for contempt the soldier who asks for quai-ter —(Lib. III. Ode V. 1. 36.) X ^lercury was the tutelary god of poets, whom, according to astrologers, liis planet still favours. In C. iii. 4, 26, Horace ascribes his preservation, not to Mercury, but to the Muses. BOOK 11. — ODE VIII. 845 Boys, fill the cnps — smooth-wide-lipp'd cups of Egypt * — With lulling Massic that makes Care forgetful ; Shed balms from amplest shells. Who parsley fresh and myrtle first will wreathe ? Ah ! whom will Venus f single for our wine-king ? As for myself, I will out-drink a Thracian : Sweet to go mad with joy — Joy for the friend whom I regain once more ! ODE VIII. TO BARINE. Some of the MSS., upon what authority is unknown, prefix Julia to Barinc. Bentley objects to the name as being neitlicr Greek nor Latin. Orelli shrewdly suggests that there Avere plenty of gay ladies at Home who were of other nations besides Greece and Rome. The name, howevei-, is very likely invented by Horace himself — as no doubt Cinara was — and may possibly be an adaptation from Bapivos, a kind of fish. There is not a line in the poem to justify the wild assumption of some commentators that Horace himself was in love Avith Barine, whoever she was. Judging by internal evidence, it seems to me that a real person Avas certainly thus addressed, and in a tone AA-hich to such a person Avould have been the most exquisite iiattery ; and as certainly that the person is not so addressed by a lover. If for thy vows forsworn the least infliction Came from the gods ; were one white tooth less pearl- like, One very nail less rosy, then, Barine, I might believe thee. But in proportion as that head perfidious Thou doom'st to Orcus, brighter shines thy beauty, And grows still more the universal theme of Youthful adorers. Clearly with thee it prospers to be perjured : Oaths " by a mother's urn," " night's starry silence," "All heaven," "the deathless gods," obtain thee bless- ings Only when broken. * " Ciboria," cups shaped like the pod of the Egj-ptian bean. " Ore supcrius lato, inferius angusto." — Orelli. t " Quern Venus arbitrum dicct bibendi." Venus Avas the highest throw on the dice, Canis the lowest. 346 THE ODES OF HORACE. Afc all this treason Yemis laughs, then ? laugh ont The very nymphs,* so truthful, and fierce Oupid, Sharpening his fiery arrows on a whetstone, Red with men's heart-blood. Meanwhile, new youths grow np beneath thy thraldom ; Grow np new slaveries ; and the earlier lovers Threaten each day to quit thy faithless threshold — Threaten, and throng there. For their raw striplings tremble all the mothers, And all the fathers of a thrifty temper ; And, as a gale retarding home-bound husbands,t Weeping brides fear thee. ODE IX. TO C. VALGIUS EUFUS. {In Consolation.) This Valgius, of consular rank, appears to have been much esteemed in his time as a poet. He wrote elegies and epigrams, and had even a high claim to the pretensions of an epic poet, according to the author of the "Panegjaic on Mcssala" — " Est tibi, qui posset magnis se accingerc rebus, Yalgius, setemo propior non alter Homcro." Horace might therefore well call upon him to lay aside his elegiac com- plaints and sing the triumphs of Augustus. He is said also to have -written in prose on the nature of plants, &c. Ton-entius endeavours, " nullo argu- mento," to distinguish between C. Valgius Kufus the consul and prose writer, and T. Valgius Rufus the poet. The Mystes whose loss Valgius deplores must have been a slave, or of servile origin, as the name denotes — not, as Dacier and Sanadon suppose, the son of Valgius. — See Estre, p. 457. 'Tis not always the fields are made rough by the rains, 'Tis not always the Caspian is harried by storm ; Neither is it each month in the year That the ice stands inert on the shores of Armenia ; * " Simplices Nympha) "— " ab omni fraude aliena)."— Okelli. t " Tua ne retardet Aura maritos." There arc many conjectures as to the sense of tbe word " aura" in this pas- sage, for which see Orelli's note. Yongc interprets it " a metaphor for intlucnco." BOOK II. — ODE IX. 347 Nor on lofty Garganus the lond-groaning oaks Wrestle, rocked to and fro with the blasts of the north, Nor the ash-trees droop widowed of leaves. my friend, O my Valgius, shall grief last for ever ? Yet for ever, in strains which we weep at, thy love ^lourns its Mystes bereaved ; not for thee doth the star Which rises at Eve, not for thee when it flies From the rush of the Sun, respite love from its sorrow. But the old man, who three generations lived through, For Antilochus lost did not mourn all his years ; Nor for Troilus, nipped in his bloom. Flowed for ever the tears of his parents and sisters. Wean thy heart then at last from such softening laments. Chant we rather fresh trophies our Caesar has won. Linking on, to the nations subdued. Bleak Niphates '^" all ice-locked, the Mede's haughty river. Now submissively humbling the crest of its waves ; While the edict of Rome has imprisoned the Scyths In the narrow domain of their steppes. And the steed of each rider halts reined at the borders. * " Eigidum Niphaten, Medumque flumen. That Niphates was tho name of a mountain-range east of the Tigris is certain ; whether there was also a river of that name is much disputed, tliough Lucan and Juvenal take it for granted. Possibly the Tigris, which, according to Strabo, rises on the mountain-range of Niphates, may be the river here meant. There was a small river called Medus which flowed into the Araxos, but this was too insignificant for the mention Horace makes of the " Mcdum flumen," even if he knew of its existence ; and most of the later commentators concur in thinking the river thus designated was tho Euphrates. 348 THE ODES OF HOJIACE. ODE X. TO LICINIUS. Licinius Miirena was the son of the llurena whom Cicero defended, sub- sequently adopted by A. Tcrentius A'arro. He was then caUed A. Terentius VaiTO Murena. Maecenas married his sister ; and Horace speaks of him subsequently (C. iii. 19) as one of the College of Augurs. The caution to discretion and moderation contained in this ode has a melancholy interest as that of a foreboding. He was put to death despite the intercession of ^Ma'cenas and Proculeius, on the charge, whether true or false, of having entered Avlth Fannius Cajpio and others into a conspiracy against Augustus. As his death occurred A.ir.c. 732, this ode must have been composed before that date. Dio speaks of the unrestrained license he allowed to his tongue, and his words may have incriminated him more than his actions, the guilt of Avhich Dio leaves doubtful. Licinius, wouldst thou steer life's wiser voyage, Neither launch always into deep mid- waters, Nor hug the shores, and, shrinking from the tempest, Hazard the quicksand. He who elects the golden mean of fortune, Housing life safely, not in sordid hovels Nor in proud halls, shuns with an equal prudence Pen'ry and Envy. Winds rock most oft the pine that tops the forest, The heaviest crash is that of falling towers, The spots on earth most stricken by the lightning Are its high places. The mind well trained to cope with either fortune, Fears when Fate favours, hopes when Fate is adverse. Jove, at his will, brings back deforming winters, Jove, when he wills it, Scatters them. Sad days may have happy morrows. His deadly bow not always bends Apollo, His hand at times the silent muse awakens With the sweet harpstring. In life's sore straits brace and display thy courage.* Boldness is wisdom then : as wisely timid When thy sails swell with winds too strongly fav'ring, Heed, and contract them. *"Animosus atquc fortis apparc " — not only be, but show thyself ^ courageous. BOOK II, — ODE XI. 341) ODE XI. TO QUINTIUS HIRPINUS. "Who this nirpinus was wc do not know. Orelli considers it probable that he is the (iuiutius to whom Ep. I. xvi. is addressed. But ^Macleane observes " that the hitter appears to have been younger than the fonner, whom Horace addresses (v. 15) as if he were a contemporary." But the question is immaterial ; for we know no more about the Quintius of the Epistle than the Hii-pinus of the Ode. What the warlike Cantabrian or Scythian, From ourselves by an ocean disparted, Take it into their heads to devise, Do not class with the questions that press. Be not over-much anxious, Hirpinus, For the things of a life that needs little ; See how Beauty recedes from our side With her beardless * twin playfellow Youth. Grizzled Ago, dry and sapless, comes chasing Frolic Loves and the balm of light Slumbers ; Not the same glory lasts to the flower, Not the same glowing face to the moon : Why to fathom the counsels eternal Strain the mind without strength for such labour ? Why not rather, yon plane-tree beneath, Or this pine, fling us carelessly down, While we may ; letting locks whiten under Syrian nard and the fragrance of roses ? Drink ! Evius dispels eating cares. Ho ! which of you, boys, will assuage This Falernian in yon running waters ? Which entice that sequestered jade, Lyde,t With her iv'ry lute, and with her locks, Like a Spartan maid's, simply knit back ? * "Levis" here means "beardless," as ia "Levis Agyieu," Book IV. Ode vi. 28. t " Quis devium scortum elicietdomo Lydeu?" It need scarcely be said the word " scortum " is not used here in its most 350 THE ODES OF HOUACE. ODE XII. TO M^CENAS. The Licymnia (or, as the scholiasts spell it, Licinia) celebrated in this ode was most probably Terentia, the wife of Majcenas ; and if so, the poem was evidently written within a few years after their marriage. It is not pleasant to think that the wedded happiness so charmingly described was of Drief duration, and that the faults laid to the charge of the lady embittered the life of Maecenas at its close. Some of the commentators have, however, doubted whether Horace could have ventured to speak so freely, as in the concluding lines, of a Roman matron of rank so illustrious as Terentia, and would therefore assume Licymnia to have been rather the mistress than the wife of Maecenas. This supposition is incompatible with the de- scription of Licymnia joining in the festivals of Diana; and probably Horace suflficiently preserved such respect to the wife of his patron as the manners of the time required by substituting a feigned name for her own. Ask not thou to attune to this lute's relaxed numbers Tales of long wars Numantian, or Hannibal direful, Or the hues which, bestowed by the life-blood of Carthage, Incarnadined KSicily's seas ; Or of Lapithas fell, and the great drunken Centaur ; Or of Earth's giant sons, overborne by Alcides, Threat'ning perils that shook to its starry foundations Old Saturn's refulgent abode. And far better thy prose than my verse, Maecenas, Shall record, in grave story, the battles of Caesar, And the necks of the kings who have loftily threatened His Rome, to pass under her yoke. Me the Muse has enjoined for the theme of my praises, The Lady Licymnia. — her dulcet- voiced singings. And the sunshine of eyes that illumine her beauty, And the loving heart true to thine own. Graced alike, whether joining at home in the dances, Or contesting the palm in gay wit's playful skirmish. Or amid holy sports on the feast-day of Dian, With virgins entwining the arm. uncomplimentary sense. " Doium " — " one Avho lives out of the way," as Ovid, Heroid. ii. 118, " Et cecinit msestum devia carmen avis."— Okelli, Macleane. BOOK II.— ODE XTII. 351 Say, for all that AchoDmenes boasted of treasure, All the wealth which Mygdonia gave Phrjgia in tribute, All the stores of all Araby — say, wouldst thou barter One lock of Licymnia's bright hair ? — When at moments she bends down her neck to thy kisses, Or declines them with coy but not cruel denial ; Rather pleased if the prize be snatched off by the spoiler. Nor slow in reprisal sometimes. ODE XIII. TO A TREE. Few of the odes arc more remarkable than this for the wonderful ease with which Horace rises from humorous pleasantry into the higher regions of poetic imagination. His escape from the falling tree seems to have made a deep and lasting impression on him. The more probable date of the poem is a.u.c. 728, or perhaps, 729. Evil-omened the day whosoever first planted, Sacrilegious his hand whosoever first raised thee, To become the perdition of races unborn. And a stain on the country, thou infamous tree. Ah ! I well may believe that the man was a monster, Had at night stabbed his hearth-guest, and strangled his father, Dealt in poisons of Colchis — committed, in short. Every crime the most fell which the thought can con- ceive ; — He, the villain who, bent upon treason and murder, Stationed thee, dismal log, stationed thee in my meadow, With remorseless design coming down unawares On the head of a lord who had done thee no wrong. Who can hope to be safe ? who sufficiently cautious ? Guard himself as he may, every moment's an ambush. Thus the sailor of * Carthage, alarmed at a squall In the Euxino, beyond it no danger foresees. * " Navita Bosporum Pceuus pcrhorrescit." See Munro, Introduction, xxii. Ill, for accepting Lachmann's Thynus or 352 THE ODES OF HORACE. Thus the soldier of Rome mails his breast to the Parthian, And believes himself safe if secure from an arrow ; And the Parthian, in flying Rome's dungeon * and chains Fondly thinks that in flight he escapes from the grave i Death has seized, and shall seize, when least looked for, its victims. Ah ! how near was I seeing dark Proserpine's kingdom, And the Judge of the Dead and the seats of the Blest, Sappho wailing melodious of loves unreturned ; t Ay, and thee, too, with strains sounding larger, Alcceus, To thy golden shell chanting of hardships in shipwreck, And of hardships in exile, and hardships in war. While the Shadows admiringly hearken to both ; - Due to either is silence as hushed as in temples. But more presses the phantom mob, shoulder on shoulder, Drinking into rapt ears the grand song, as it swells With the burthen of battles and tyrants o'ertln^own. No wonder, when spelled by the voice of the charmer. The dark hell-dog his hundred heads fawningly crouches. And the serpents that writhe interweaved in the locks Of the Furies, repose upon terrible brows ; And Prometheus himself and the Father of Pelops, By the dulcet delight are beguiled from their torture, While the hand of Orion the arrow lets fall. And the spectres of lions unheeded flit on. Thoonus for Poenus — "Horace says that men only guard against dangers near at hand and expected. The Punic skipper has no special business in the straits of the Bosporus, all along the shore of which lived the Th} ni, Thuni, or Thoeni." * " Italum robur." Orelli gives the weight of his authority in favour of interpreting " robur" as the Eoman prison (" Tullianum "), an inner cell in which malefactors were placed, and in which the State captives, as Jugurtha, Avere also sometimes immured. Yonge adopts the same interpre- tation. 13illenburgcr translates it in the simple sense of the strength or power of Italy, which Macleane also favours. t " Quercntem Sappho puellis de popularibns." " Incertum autem est quid quereretur." — Estre, Herat. Prosop. 26. Estre BOOK II. — ODE XIV. 353 ODE XIV. TO P S T U M U S. Who this Postumus may have been is, in spite of the various conjectures of various commentators, as uncertain as, happily, it is immaterial. It is, at all events, an agreeable supposition that he may be identical with the Posti;mus whom Propertius (Lib. iii. Eleg. 10) reproached for leaving his Avife Galba to ioin a military expedition, possibly that of JFA'nis GUllus against the Arabians. This supposition would give a more pathetic signifi- cance to the "placens uxor " of the ode. Postunms, Postumus, the years glide by us, Alas ! no piety delays the wrinkles, Nor old age imminent, Nor the indomitable hand of Death. Though thrice each day a hecatomb were ofFered, Friend, thou couldst soften not the tearless Pluto, Encoiling Tityus vast, And Geryon, triple giant, with sad waves — Waves over which we all of us must voyage, All whosoe'er the fruits of earth have tasted ; Whether that earth we ruled As kings, or served as drudges of its soil. Vainly we shun Mars and the gory battle. Vainly the Hadrian hoarse with stormy breakers. Vainly, each autumn's fall. The sicklied airs through which the south wind sails.* Still the dull-winding ooze of slow Cocytus, The ill-famed Danaids, and, to task that ends not, Sentenced, -bolides ; These are the sights on which we all must gaze. cites the various intei5)retations, and inclines to that of the commentators in Cruquius — viz., Sappho complained of the girls of her couutry that they loved Phaon wliom she loved. This is, at all events, the most agreeable conjecture. "Welcker has written with ingenious eloquence in vindication of Sappho's memorv from the scandal, "quod nimia diu ei adha»sit." * " Auster," '* the sirocco." 354 THE ODES OF HORACE. Lands, home, and wife in whom thy soul delightcth, Left ; and one tree alone of all thy woodlands, Loathed cypress, faithful found, Shall follow to the last the brief-lived lord. The worthier heir thy Ccecuban shall scjuander, Bursting the hundred locks that guard its treasure. And whines more rare than those Sipped at high feast by pontiffs,* dye thy floors. ODE XV. ON THE IMMODEIUTE LUXUEY OF THE AGE. This ode is generally considered to be among those written to assist Augustus in his social reforms, and, as Maclcane observes, it should be read in connection with the earlier odes of Book III. Dillenburger assigns the date to A.u.c. 79-6, in which year Octavius, then Censor, restored and adorned the public temples fallen into decay. Macleane favours that date. Eut the poem alludes also to the sumptuary laws passed by Augustus at various periods; — practically inoperative, as sumptuary laws always must be in rich communities. Lo, those regal piles rising ! methinks, to the harrow They will leave but few acres ; on every side round us Vasty stewponds for fishes extend Wider bounds than the Lake of Lucrinus. Yield the vine- wedded elms f to that Calebs the plane- tree; Then the violet, the myrtle, the whole host of odours Scatter sweets where the owner of old Placed his pride and his wealth in the olive ; * As the English say, " A dinner fit for an alderman," so the Romans said, "A banquet fit for a pontiff." " Pontificum dapes, Saliares coena;." t " Platanusque caelebs, Evincet ulmos." I have added to ulmos the explanatory epithet "vine-wedded," without which the genex-al reader could not understand the author's intention. The elm, as supporting the vine, was useful and remunerative, the plane-tree not. — norace intimates that the growth of luxury was hostile to the "re- sources of industry," — that garden flowers and plants appropriated the soil in which the vine and the olive had sufficed for the income of other and simpler owners — Poets and Communiste sometimes agree in contempt for the rudiments of Political Economy. BOOK II.— ODE XVI. 355 Serried laurel must, next, screen each stroke of a sun- beam. Ah ! not such the decrees left by Rome's hardy Founder, Kor the auspice of Oato unshorn, Nor the customs bequeathed by our fathers. Petty then was to each man the selfish possession, Mighty then was all to men the Commonwealth's trea- sure ; No one sought the cool shade of the North Under peristyles planned out for temples ; * The chance turf next at hand roofed the citizen's dwelling, But the State, at its charge, rarest marble devoted To the State's sacred heirlooms ; — the shrines Of the gods, and the courts of a people. ODE XVI. TO POMPEIUS GROSPHUS. According to the scholiast in Cruquius, this Pompeius Grosphus, a Sicilian hy origin, was of the Equestrian order. Cicero (in Cic. Verr. II. iii. 23) speaks of Eubulides Grosphus Centuripinus, as a man of eminent worth, noble birth, and princely wealth. Estre conjectures that this Grosphus was made a Roman citizen by Pompey, and took his name, which descended to the Grosphus of the ode as son or grandson. In Epist. i. 12, Horace com- mends hmi to Iccius, then acting as superintendent or steward to Vipsanius Agrippa's estates in Sicily, as one whom Iccius might willingly oblige, for he Avould never ask anything not honest and just. For ease prays he who in the wide ^gsean Storm-seized, looks up on clouds that heap their dark- ness O'er the lost moon, while dim the constellations Fade from the sailor. * " Nulla deccmpedis Metata privatis opacam Porticus excipiebat Arcton." No private man had porticoes measured by a ten-foot rule, which appears to have been a measurement for temples and public buildings. The peristyles at Pompeii, which form an inner court to the house, give suQicient idea of these conidors, oj)ening to the north for coolness iu summer, and to the south for sunshine iu winter. A A 2 85 G THE ODES OF HORACE. Ease, still for ease, sighs Thracia fierce in battle, Still for ease sighs the quivered Mede. Ah, Grosphus ! Nor gems nor purple, no, nor gold can buy it ; Ease is not venal. Bribed by no king,* dispersed before no lictor. Throng the wild tumults of a soul in trouble. And the cares circling round a sleepless pillow, Under ceil'd fretwork. f He lives on little well who, for all splendour. Decks his plain board with some prized silver heirloom. J From him no greed of gain, of loss no terror, Snatch the light slumbers. Why, briefly strong, with space in time thus bounded, Launch we so many arrows into distance ? Why crave new suns ? What exile from his country Flies himself also ? Diseased Care § ascends the brazen galley, And rides amidst the armed men to the battle, || Fleeter than stag, and fleeter than, when driving Rain-clouds, the east wind. The mind, which now is glad, should hate to carry Its care beyond the Present ; what is bitter With easy smile should sweeten : nought was ever Happy on all sides. * " Non euim gazae." " Gazse," from a Persian word, means " the king's treasury," "the royal coffers." t " Laqueata tecta," "non totius domus sed cuhiculorum et tricliniarum." — DlLLENBURGER. X " Paternuni salinum " — " the paternal or hereditary salt-cellar." HcTace here, as elsewhere, distinguishes the comparative poverty of a small independence from absolute neediness and squalor. The poverty he praises is not without its own modest refinements. The board may be simple, but still it can display the old family salt-cellar, kept with religious cai-e. If the owner has not increased the paternal fortune, he has not diminished it. § " Vitiosa cura." In the translation, Orclli's interpretation of " vitiosa," "morbosa" — i.e. morbid or diseased, from the vice of the mind whence it springs — is adopted. But this hardly gives the full force of the word, llorace means that Care, which sjmls or infects everything, ascends the galley, &c. II " Turmas equitum." " This properly refers to the horsemen riding to battle made anxious by the hope of booty or the fear of death." — Orelli. BOOK II. — ODE XVII. 357 Untimely deatli snatched off renowned Achilles ; Tithonus lived to dwindle into shadow ; And haply what the Honr to thee shall grant not Me it will prefer.* Around thine home a hundred flocks are bleating, Low the Sicilian heifers, neighs the courser Trained to the race-car ; woofs in Afric purple Twice-tinged array thee : To me the Fate, that cannot err,t hath given Some roods of land, some breathings, lowly murmured. Of Grecian Muse, and power to scorn the malice Of the mean vulgar. ODE XVII. TO M^CENAS. This ode is addressed to Maecenas in illness, but the date of the illness is necessarily uncertain in the life of a valetudinarian like Maecenas. Though, as Macleane observes, the last two lines of this ode, showing that Horace had not yet paid the sacrifice he had vowed to Faunus for his preservation from death, make it most probable that it was written not long after C. 13 of this book, the composifion of which has been assigned, with some hesita- ""With 'turraas equitum' is usually compared 'post equitem sedet atra cura,' but the sense there is a little different. Here he speaks of care following a man to the field of battle; there he refers to the I'ich mau ambling on his horse." — Macleane. * " Et mihi forsan, tibi quod negarit, Porriget Hora." I think, with Orelli, that this simply means, " Fortune, or the Hour, will perhaps give something of good to me which she denies to you ; and I dissent altogether from the usual interpretation — viz., " Time may'perhaps give me a longer life than it concedes to you." That interpretation would be very little in keeping with Horace's general politeness m addressing a friend. Nothing can well be worse-bred than telling a man that perhaps you will live longer than he will. Besides, Horace immediately proceeds to define that which is granted peculiarly to himself in opposition to the riches bestowed upon Grosphus. t " Parca non mendax " — "sure," "unfailing in the fulfilment of thviv decrees." Compare "veraces," C. Ssecul, 25, and Persius, v. 42, ''Parca tonax veri."— So Orelli. " Genius is represented as {ho i,nft of Fate in Piud. Od. ix. 26, 28 ; also in Nem. iv. 41-43, where the \)wt iiifcrs from it his own eventual triumpli over detraction ; as Horace nui} be said to do here." — Yongk. 358 THE ODES OF HORACE. tion, to A.u.C. 728. Maecenas was subject to what appears to have been a low nervous fever, attended with loss of sleep. According to the verses attributed to him, and censured with a stoic's lofty disdain by Seneca (Epp. 10^), Majcenas had a passionate and clinging desire for life, very uncommon in a Koman, deeming that, under any suflerbig or infirmity, life Avas etili dear — " Vita dum superest bene est : Hanc mihi vel acuta Si sedeam cruce sustine." * If this sentiment was sincerely expressed, the pathos of the poem is increased. A man so dreading death may well desire a companion in the last joumev. And it is not unlikely that the melancholy view which Horace habitually takes of the next world, and his exhortations to make the best of this one, may have been colom-ed, perhaps insensibly to himself, by his conversations and intercourse with Maecenas. Why destroyest tliou mo with the groan of thy sufferings ? Neither I nor the gods will let thee die before me, Mcecenas, the glory and grace, And the column itself, of my life. Ah ! if some fatal force, prematurely bereaving, Wrenched from me the one half of my soul, could the other Linger on, with its dearer part lost. And the fragment of what was a whole ? Ko ! in thy life is mine ; both, the same day shall shatter. I have made no false vow ; where thou lead'st me I follow ; Fellow-travellers, the same solemn road We will take, we will take, side by side. ^tc, no flames bursting forth from the jaws of ChimaBra, xvie, no Gyas once more rising up hundred-handed, Could dispart from thyself, — such the will Of omnipotent Justice and Fate. * The fragment is thus very happily rendered into English by Mr. Farrar in the biographical essay on Seneca, which forms the larger portion of his impressive and eloquent work, " The Seekers after God " : — "Numb my hands with palsy, Rack my feet with gout. Hunch my back and shoulder, Let my teeth fall out ; Still, if life be granted, I prefer the loss — Save my life and give me Anguish on the cross." BOOK il. — ODE XVIlt. 359 Whether Libra, or Scorpio with aspect * malignant, In mine horoscope, ruled o'er the Houses of Danger, Or moist Capricorn, lord of the west ; It is strange how our stars have agreed. Thee, thine own native Jupiter snatched from fell Saturn, And outshining his beam, stayed the wings of the Parcse, When the theatre hailed thee restored. And the multitude thrice shouted joy. Mo the fall of the tree would have brained, had not Faunus, To men born under Mercury, guardian benignant, O'er my head stretched the saving right hand, And made lighter the death- dealing blow. Then forget not to render to Jove, the Preserver Of a life so august, votive chapel and victims. While I, to mine own sylvan god, Offer grateful mine own humble lamb. ODE XVIII. AGAINST THE GRASPIXG AMBITION OF THE COVETOUS. This ode is in a metre of whicli there is no other example in Horace. It is said to have been invented by Hipponax of Ephesus, and is called generally * "Adspicit," "aspected," is still the technical tcnri in use among astrologers, according to whom the native star may be evilly aspocted in various ways. But " pars violcntior " would apply to'tlic hostile intluenccs affecting " the Lord of life," chiefly found in the significations of the 8th and I'ith House. By his allusion to Capricorn, Horace clearly refers to his dangers by sea — *' Sicula unda." To astrology (a science then so much in fashion) Hoi-ace often refers— sometimes with scorn, sometimes with a seeming credulity — always as a man avIio knew very little about it. But Avhere he speaks oi" it ■\nth scorn, as in addressing Lcuconoii, Book I. Ode xi., it is less to denounce astrology itself as an imposture, than to dissuade from all attempts to divine the future — "better that the future should remain unknown and uncon- jectured." On the other hand, where, as in this ode, he seems to aftecl credulity, it is only for a playful purpose. He regarded " the Science of tho Chaldee," as he did most of the popular beliefs affecting the future, without serious examination of its truth or falsehood, as a question of speculative philosophy, but to be freely used, whe^bpr in pport or in onmost for the pui-poscs of poetic art. 360 ICHE ODES 01^ HORACE. by his name ; though sometimes Euripidian, because often used by Euripides. It abounds in trochees. I can only attempt to give a general idea of its trippingness and brevity of sound. It treats, with more than usual beauty, Horace's favourite thesis of declamation against the grasping nature of avarice ; and, as Dillcnburger observes, it takes up and expands the senti- ment with which he had closed Ode xvi. To me nor gold nor ivory lends Its shine to fret my ceiling ; Nov shafts, in farthest Afric hewn, Prop architraves Hymettian."' I do not claim, an nnknown heir, The spoils of Orient kingdoms,! No wives :j: of honest clients weave For me Laconian purples. Yet mine is truth and mine some vein Of inborn genius kindly ; Though poor, I do not court the rich, But by the rich am courted. I do not weary heaven for more ; I tax no kindly patron ; Content with all I own on earth. Some rural acres Sabine. Day treads upon the heels of day, New moons wane on to perish ; Thou on the brink of death dost make Vain contracts for new marble ; * The Numidian or Libyan marble, known to us as the Giallo antico. The " architraves Hymettian" (" trabes Hymettiae") are the white marble of Hymettus. t "NequeAttali Ignotus heres regiam occupavi." Attains the third made by will the Eomans his heii-s ; the older commentators suppose that the lines satirically imply the will to have been fraudulently obtained. But the word "ignotus" does not necessarily bear that signfica- tion. As Orelli observes, the irony consists in the fact that Attains did not know the persons he enriched. Torrentius supposes the lines to refer to Aristonicus, who, after the death of Attains, seized on the throne by false pretences, defeated Licinius Crassus, was afterwards conquered by Perpenna, carried to Rome, and strangled in prison by orders of the Senate. The former interpretation is preferable. X " * Honesttc clientaj.' I have seen no satisfactory explanation of the words 'honesta) clientu).' Mr. Long hsis stiggestcd to me that they may refer to the rustic women on a man's farms— the wives of the Coloni."— Macleaxe. BOOK 11. — ODE XVIir. 361 Building prond homes, and of tliy last — The sepulchre — forgetful ; As if the earth itself too small Thou robb'st new earth from ocean, And, urging on a length of shore Upon the deep's foundation. Thou thrustest back the angry wave That wars in vain on Baiae.* What, must thou also, greeding still, Remove thy neighbour's landmark — Must ruthless avarice overleap Each fence of humble clients ? And man and wailing wife, expelled The dear paternal dwelling, Clasp ragged babes and exiled gods To wandering homeless bosoms ? And yet no surer hall awaits The wealthy tyrant-master, Than that which yields yet ampler room In yet more greedy Orcus. Where farther tend ? Impartial earth Opes both for prince and peasant ; No gold bribed Charon to row back The crafty-souled Prometheus. Death holds the haughty Tantalus ; Death holds his children haughty : Invoked or not. Death hears the poor, And He gives rest to labour. * In allusion to the practice of the wealthy Romans in building villas out into the sea, on artificial foundations— as, long afterwards, rose the whole city of Venice- 36^ THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE XIX. IN HONOUR OF BACCHUS. !N[acleane appears to me greatly to undeiTate the beauty of this poem, in •which he says the 'Greek fire is wanting. This is not the opinion of the earlier critics, nor of readers in general. It has as much of the character of the dithyramb as tho taste of a Koman audience Avould sanction and the character of tlie Latin language allow. The date of the poem is uncertain. JNIacleane suggests that it was perhaps composed at the time of the Libcralia, though in what year there are no means of determining. From its dithy- rambic character, Orelli conjectures it to have been a copy from some Greek poem. The metre rn tliis and tho translation immediately following has some slight deviations from the preceding versions of the Alcaic, but not such as to affect the general character and form of the rhythm. Amid sequestered rocky glens, — ye future times believe it!— Bacchus I saw, in mystic verse his pupil nymphs in- structing — Instructing pricked ears intent Of circling goat-hoofed Satyrs. Q3voe, with the recent awe is trembling yet my spirit, Filled with the god, my breast still heaves beneath the stormy rapture. CEvoe ! spare me ; Liber, spare, Dread with the solemn thyrsus ! Vouchsafed to me the glorious vighi to chant the head- strong Thyads, The wine that from the fountain welled, the rills with milk o'erflowing, And, from the trunks of charmed trees, The lapse of golden honey. Vouchsafed to sing thy consort's crown which adds a star to heaven,* Or that just wrath which overwhelmed the house of Theban Pentheus, And doomed to so disastrous end The frantic king Lycurgus.t * Ariadne. t Lycurgus, the King of the Edoncs, persecuted Encchiis on his passage throug'h Thrace, and imprisoned liis train of Satyrs. 'J'he mythologists vary as to the details of his punishment for this oflencc, ))ut ho \va^ fir.st afflicted with madness, and finally torn to pieces by horses. BOOK II. — ODE XIX. 363 Thou bow*st the rivers to thy will, barbarian ocean rulest ; * Bcdowcd with wine in secret hills, thy charm compels the serpents To interweave, in guileless coil, The locks of Thracian Moenads. Thou, when aloft through arduous heaven the impious host of giants Scaled to the Father's realm, didst hurl again to earth huge Rhoetus — Fronting his might with lion-fangs, And jaws of yawning horror ; Albeit thou wert deemed a god more fit for choral dances, For jest and sport the readiest Power, of slenderer use in battle ; Yet peace and war found thee the same, Of both the soul and centre. When flashed the golden horn that decks thy front through Stygian shadows. Harmless the Hell- dog wagged his tail to greet thy glorious coming, And gently linked with triple tongue Thine hallowed feet receding.f * "Tu flectis amncs, tu mare barbarum." " Flectis amncs" docs not ino!in, as it is usually translated, " thou tiu-ncst aside the course of the rivers; " the reference is to the Ilydnspes and Orontes, over wliich Bac<;hu3 is said to have walked dryshod ; and " flecto " here must be taken either in the sense of " to bow " or " direct," or, in its more metaphorical sense, " to appease." By " mare barbarum " is meant the Indian Ocean. t Orelli observes that in this stanza there are two imap^es, — one at the entrance of Liber into Uadcs, when Cerberus gently wap:s his tail to greet him — the other when Liber is leaving and the Hell-dog licks his feet. The poet thus expresses the security with which the god passes through the terrors of tlic nether world. 864 THE ODES OF HOEACE. ODE XX. OF HIS FUTURE FAME. Horace has no ode more remarkable than this for liveliness of fancy and fervour of animal spirits. It is composed half in sport, half in earnest, though I cannot agree with Macleane that it has in its style anything of " the mock heroic," properly so called, still less that it was written im- promptu. Its rapid vivacity is no proof of want of artistic care. Dillen- burger (in his Qu. Hor.) conjectures the ode to have been Avritten in youth, and on the occasion of Maicenas's first invitation (recorded Sat. I. vi.), so interpreting " qucm vocas, dilecte Maecenas." But, as Macleane observes, " the epithet ' dilecte,' implying a familiarity of some standing, is opposed to this view ; " to which I may add the remark, that it is scarcely probable that Horace would have spoken with such confidence of his future fame till his claims as a lyrical poet were acknowledged by competent judges, to Avhom most of the odes in the first two, or perhaps the first three, books, if not yet collected into one publication, were familiarly known. It was probably enough written in some moment of joyous excitement occasioned by a success more signal than any private invitation from Maecenas could confer; but we know too little of the various stepping-stones in Horace's poetical career to form any reasonable conjecture as to its date and occasion. It is enough that the poem itself so wonderfully vindicates the pretension of the poet to be also the prophet. I shall soar throngli the liquid air buoyed on a pinion Not familiar, not slight ; I will tarry no longer On this earth ; but victorious o'er envy, two- formed, Bard and bird, I abandon the cities of men. Born of parents obscure though I be, Maacenas, I who still from thy mouth hear the title "Beloved," * I shall pass not away through the portals of death, I shall not be hemmed round by the waters of Styx. * " Quem vocas dilecte." I agree with Mr. Conington in accepting Hitter's interpretation that "dilecte" is Maecenas's address to Horace. Upon this disputed point a very illustrious scholar, to whom, indeed, I f.m in- debted for line 6 in the translation, writes to me thus : — " I rather doubt the naked use of ' vocas ' in the sense of ' invite to your society ' (* revocas ' is used Sat. I. vi. 61, but then of a particular repeated invitation, n.ot of a general one) ; I therefore incline to prefer the interpretation ' Quom, Maxjenas, vocas "dilecte," ' though I admit the boldness of this construc- tion." Munro prints " dilecte." BOOK II. — ODE XX. 365 Now, now on my nether limbs rougher skin settles ; Now above to the form of white bird I am changing ; * Swiftly now from the hands and the shoulders behold Smooth and smoother the down of the plumes springing forth ! Than the swift son of Daedalus swifter f I travel. I shall visit shores loud with the boom of the Euxine, And fields Hyperborean and African sands, And wherever I wander shall sing as a bird. Me the Colchians shall know, me the Dacian J dis- sembling His dismay at the might of his victor the Roman ; Me Scythia's far son ; — learned students in me Shall be Spain's rugged child and the drinker of Rhone. § * "Album mutor in alitem supeme." The white bird is, of course, the swan — " Multa Dii'cajum levat aura cycnuni." — Lib. IV. Od. ii. 25. t " Horace did not Avrite ' Daidaleo ocior.' The old Bernese and other liigh authorities have ' notior,' wliieh, if a gloss, suits the souse and context admirably, far better than ' tutior,' * audacior,' or any other conjecture."— MuNBO, Introd. xxvi. Bentley has " tutior." J " Et qui dissimulat metum Marsae cohortis Dacus." The Marsian infantry was the flower of the Eoman annies, and the Marsian here represents the might of Home. Either the interruption to the rapidity of the verse by the allusion to the Dacian' s haughty dissimulation of the teiTor with which he regards the Roman arms must be considered, as it has been considered by critics, one of those "impertinences," for the sake of a po])ular hit. which is noticed in the preliminary essay as a defect in Horace ; or It may possibly escape that reproach, and, pertinently to the purpose of the poem, mean that whatever the disguised terror in which tne Dacian holds the Koraan soldier, he will welcome the Eoman poet. § " Me peritus Discet Hiber, Rhodanique potor." *' Peritus Hiber " does not mean " the learned Spaniard," as it is commonly translated. The adjective applies, as in similar cases is habitual with Horace, both to "Hiber" and "Rhodani potor;" and as Dillenburgcr, OroUi, and Macleane agree, the meaning is, "that these barbaric nations will become versed in me." Macleane thinks that by " Hiber" is probably meant the Caucasian people of that name ; I follow, "however, the interpre- tation popularly accepted — and sanctioned by OrcUi — that "Hiber" means " the Spaniard." The " Drinker of Rhone ''^ is the Gaul. 366 THE ODES OF IIORA.CE. Not for me raise tlie death-dirge, mine nrn sliall be empty ; * ^ Hush the vain ceremonial of groans that degrade me, And waste not the honours ye pay to the dead On a tomb in whose silence I shall not repose. * "Absint inani funcre ncnino." " Inani fuuere," because the bodj- is not Iherc—OiiELLi. BOOK III.— ODE I. ON THE WISDOM OP CONTENT. This ode opens with a stnnza Avhich modern critics generally consider to bo an iutroduction not only to the ode itself, but also to the five following — all six constituting, as it were, serial parts of one vaiiod poem, written about the same time and for tlie same object — vi/. to aid in the reformation of manners which Augustus undertook at the close of the civil wars. The date of these and other odes conceived in the same spirit (as Lib. II. Od, xv. and xviii.) would therefore be referable to the period from A.u.c. 725 to A.u.c. 728. The first line of the introductory stanza to this ode imitates the formal exhortation of the priest at the Mysteries, warning away the profane. The conclusion of the stanza, " Virgmibus ^nierisque canto," if, as recent interpreters assume, addressed to the cliorus ol boys and girls sur- rounding the priests and singing the praises of the gods, has also, according to the scholiasts, a much wider significance, and is a special addi-ess to the rising generation. "Horace," says Maclcane, '* speaks as if he despaired of impressing his precepts on any but the young, and bids the rest stand aside, as incapable of being initiated in the true wisdom of life." It is not easy to assign an appropriate heading to this ode. That which I select appears, on the whole, better than any other in use, though not quite satisfactory. The whole ode, which ranks high among tho noblest attempts of a poet to embody didactic purpose in lyrical form, consists in a succession of brilliant images or pictures, seemingly detached, but constituting a moral whole : Istly, The solemn recognition of the supreme God triumphant over brute force (*' Clari Giganteo tiiumpho"), and governing the universe; 2ndly, The impartiality of Fate, and the certainty of death ; 3rdly, The misery of the guilty conscience not to be soothed bv sensual or artistic enjoyments. At luie 25, " Desiderantem quod satis est, ' the main object of the poem — viz. in the inculcation of that wisdom of contentment by which Horace contrives to unite Epicurean with Stoic philosophy — develops itself, and is continued to the close. I hate the uniuitiate crowd — I drive it lieuce away ; Silence, while I, the Mnses' priest, chant hymns nnheard before ; I chant to virgins and to youths, I chant to listeners pure. Dread kings control their subject flocks ; o'er kings them- selves reigns Jove, Glorious for triumph won in war when giants stormed . his heaven, And moving, Avith almighty brow,* The universe of things. * " Cuncta supcrcilio moventis." With hia usual felicity of wording, Horace avoids the commonplace expression of "the Olympian nod," thougii 368 THE ODES OF HORACE. Man vies with man — 'tis so ordained j this, wider sets his vines,* That, nobler-born, the Campnst seeks, competitor for power With one who boasts of purer life. And one of clients more : Necessity with equal law assorts the varying lots ; Though this may bear the lofty name and that may bear the low, Each in her ample urn she shakes, And casts the die for all. J To him above whose guilty neck hangs down the naked sword, Sicilian feasts shall famish not the sweets that flavour food, Nor song of bird nor chord of lute Charm back the truant sleep. § the line implies that and something more ; it implies the Beitv's intellectual government of all things, and explains the connection with the stanzas that immediately follow, — the nod of Jove confirms the law of Fate to which all men are suhjected. * " Est ut viro vir latins ordinet Arbusta sulcis." " Est ut," " it is the case, it is ordained that men should vary in wealth and condition." — Yonge. " Latius ordinet arbusta sulcis " — viz., one man may compete with another man in extent of possessions : literallj-, that he may marshal trees — chiefly, but not exclusively, vines — in parallel lines, or in the shape of the quincunx, to a greater extent than another. t " Descendat in Campum." It was on the Campus Martins that the Comitia Centuriata, at which the election of magistrates took place, were held. The Campus was on low ground ; but Yonge observes that " descendat ' * is the exact word to express a contest, to descend into the arena. X " Omne capax movet urna nomen." The image is taken from the use of the dice, so familiar to the Eomans. Fate is represented as holding the urn which contains the lots of all men. This she keeps shaking (as we shako or rattle the dice-box), and casts out the lots indifferently. § " Non avium cithar8ec|ue cantus." It must not be supposed that the natural song of the wild bird out of doors is here meant. Horace is speaking of artificial luxuries in contradistinction to the banks and vales of the following stanza, to which the song of the wild bird would apply. Hero he means the singing-birds which the Romans kept in aviaries within their houses. Their notes, and the sound of distant music, and the trickling of water, were among the artificial means for soothing the nerves and inducing sleep, practised by the luxurious. Maecenas, who suffered from insoumia during that kind of nervous depression which saddened his later yeai's, is said by Seneca to have endeayoured to lull himself to sleep by the aid of BOOK lit.— ODi) t. 369 Sleep does not scorn the lowly cots that shelter rural toil, Nor banks that find their pall of state in shadowy summer boughs, Nor vales in Tempo never vexed Save by the Zephyr's wing. To him who curbs desire within the bounds of " The Enough," The wildest blasts that heave the sea awake no fear of wreck : He quails not though Arcturus set, Or Haedus rise, in storm ; Though reel the vines beneath the hailj though cfops belie the hope, Though trees despoiled of fruit accuse now spring's corrod- ing showers. Now summer's scorch and fiery stars, Now winter's crowning wrongs. Lo, where the mighty moles extend new lands into the deep. The scaled races feel their sea shrink round the invading piles ; As many a builder's burly gang Heaves the huge rubble down,* Obedient to a lord who scorns so small a bound as earth, Yet Conscience, whispering fears and threats, ascends with him the tower, Black Care sits by him in the bark, Behind him, on the steed.f distant music. It is not to Mnocenas, however, that Horace here alludes, for such an allusion in this place would have been an unfeeling afli'ont. * " Hue frcquens Caementa domittit redemptor Cum famulis." " Caementa," the rough mixture of large and small stones, mortar, &<'. (rubble'), which served for foundations. "Eedemptor," literally the "con- tractor or " architect." t *« Sed Timor et Mina) Scandunt eodoai, q^uo dominus ; neque Decedit a)rata tnremi, et Post cquitcm scdct atra Cura." h D 370 Me odes of HORACE. Since Phrygian marble * nonglit avails to soothe a mind diseased, And nought the pomp of purple robes albeit outshining stars, And nought the Achoemenia,n balm, Nought the Falernian vine ; Why should I rear some hall sublime to Rome's last taste refined, With pillared doors f which never ope but envy enters in?— Oh, why for riches, wearier far, Exchange my Sabine vale ? ODE II. TfiE DISCIPLINE OF YOUTH. As ill the preceding ode the virtue of contentment is enforced, so tMs cx)mmenccs with enjoining that early training in simple and hardy habits which engenders the spirit of content, because it forms the mind betimes to disdain luxury. Discipline of this kind is the foundation of courage, love of country, the independence of character which loves virtue for its own sake, and the self-restraint which is essential to social good faith and honour. To bear privation J as a friend — to love its wholesome stint, Train the youth nerved by hardy sports which form the school of wa-r, A rider dread, with practised spear, To harry Parthian foes, " Minse interna) propter facinora commissa." — Orelli. *' Threats of conscience." *'Scandunt," ascend the lofty tower or belvidere, wliich Avas then the fasliionable appendage to the villas of the wealthy. " The ' terata triremis ' was the lich man's private yacht."— Macleane. The distinction between " Post equitcm scdet atra Cura," and " Cura ncc turmas cquitum relinquit," Lib. II. Od. xvi. 22, has been noticed in the note to the luie last mentioned. « "Phrygius lapis," a costly marble from Synnada in Phrygia, white, with red spots, in great esteem for columns, &c. t " Postibus invidendis." " Postos " were the jambs, columns, or pilasters that flanked tlie entrance door, and the Avord is often used for the door itself. I do not know of any authority for interpreting "postes" as the rows of pillars tvithin the "atrium" itself, Avhich some conunentators are inclincil to do. I ask indulgence for my paraphrase of invidouHs. I " Paupericm." It is difficolt here, as elsewhere, to find an English BOOK III. ODE II. 371 Inured to danger and to days beneath unsheltered skies. On him from high embattled walls of kings at war with Rome, Matron and ripening maid shall gaze And inly sigh, " Alas ! " never may our princely lord in arms unskilled, provoke Yon lion whom 'twere death to touch ; by the fell rage for blood, Where most the slaughters thicken round, Hurried, in rapture, on ! " Glorious and sweet it is to die — when for our native land ; * Kv'n him who runs away from Death, Death follows fast behind — Death does not spare the recreant back. And hamstrings limbs that flee. Virtue ne'er knows of a defeat which brings with it dis- grace ; t The blazon of her honours ne'er the breath of men can stain; Her fasces she nor takes nor quits As veers the popular gale. -word that correctly reudors the sense of " pauperics." In this passage I can think of no hotter word than " privation," interpreted as the privation of luxuries. Poverty would be hero Avholly inapplicable, this ode being addressed, with the one that precedes and the three that follow it, to youths quite as much of the richer classes as of the poorer. " llobustus acri niilitia puer : " I take "robustus" with "militia" — the boy made robust by martial exercise and discipline. Among the llomans, the age for military exercise began at seventeen. * "Duke et decorum est pro patria mori." "In Horace's mind there was a close connection between the virtue of frugal contentment and devo- tion to one's country." — Macleane. t " Virtus, repulsae nescia sordidse. Intaminatis fulget honoiibus. The meaning of these lines has been much disputed, but seems to mc sufficiently clear. The point is in the epithets, " sordid*," " intaminatis." It cannot be truly said that Virtue is ignorant or unconscious of a defeat or rejection (" repulsa? " applies to the defeat at a popular election (a) ), but it is (a) Thus, in the Epistles, I. i. 42, Horace says, — " Vides, qua) maxima credis Esse mala, exiguum censum turpemquo repulsam ; " which Macleane, referring to " repulsu)— sordidau " of this ode, interprets (juaintly, "He who would secure an election must have a command of money." B B 2 372 THE ODES OP HORACE. Virtue essays lier flight tlirougli ways to all but lier denied ; To tliose who do not merit death she opes the gates of heaven, And, spurning vulgar mobs and mire, Soars with escaping wing. There is a silence unto which a safe reward is due. With him whose tongue the sacred rites of Ceres blals abroad, May I ne'er sit beneath a roof, Nor launch a shallop frail ! For Jove neglected oft confounds the good man with the bad; And though avenging Punishment is lame indeed of foot, Yet rarely lags she long behind The swiftest flisrht of Crime. ODE III. ON STEADFASTNESS OF PL-liPOSE. The two preceding odes, addressed to youth, inculcate the formation of private character ; this ode and the two that follow have a political inten- tion and bearing. In this ode Horace commences with his famous picture of the steadfast man not turned aside from that which his reason and conscience hold to be right, either by the excitement of a populace or the threat of a tjTant. Among the mortals which the exercise of this virtue has raised to the gods he places Augustus, who certainly did not want firmness of purpose in founding and cementing his authority, and to whom the Senate had already decreed the honours habitually paid only to the Divine Powers. The poet's mention of llomulus among those thus promoted to the rank of immortals, leads on to what in itself appears, at first sight, a somewhat prolix and irrelevant digression — viz., the speech of Juno pre- dicting the glories of Home, and prohibiting the restoration of Troy. Closely said truly that Vii'tue knows not an}' such defeat as can disgrace her (sordidse). The honours that Virtue seeks are distinguished from civil honours, insomuch as the latter, being conceded by tlie people or the state, are by the people or the state to be reversed or sullied ; but the honours Avhich Virtue seeks, being acquired by herself alone, cannot by others bo stained or touched (iutaminatis) . Cicero has exactly the same sentiment (Fro Sestio, 28, 60), and Horace almost literally versifies the passage, "Virtus lucet in tenebris — splendetque per sese semper, neque alienis unquam sordibus obsolescit."— See Orelli's note, vol. i. p. 315. BOOK III. — ODE TIL 873 examined, the digression is not purely episodical, but in harmony with tlie preceding verses, and a development of the purpose of the whole poem ; for it is in the nature of the steadfast man, unswayed by the fickle passions of the time, to adhere firmly to the interests of his country, and c-lierish the memory of its glories and heroes. "VVe are told by Suetonius (" Life of Julius Cfcsar," c. 79), that it was a cm-rent report that Julius Ctcsar medi- tated a design of transferring the seat of empire from Rome to Alexandria, or to Ilium. Lucan, ix. 997, ascribes to him the same intention. But we are not to suppose, witli some, that Augustus entertained any such notion : this ode in itself is a proof to the contrary ; for Horace would certainly not have volunteered a direct opposition to the wish of Augustus in poems intended to praise and support his policy, and, no doubt, composed with his entire approval. But it is possible enough that, when Augustus commenced his work of reformation, there were many among the broken remains of the old political parties who, whether from the dilapidation of their fortune, the (Ustaste for Koman institutions, the supremacy of Augustus himself and aversion to bis reforms, the animosities of faction — which, if crushed down, were still sore and rankling — or the restless love of change and adventure, might have entertained and proclaimed a desire for establisliing a settlement in the East, for Avhich the ancestral site of Troy would have been a popular selection. If Julius Cujsar really did entertaiii, or Avas commonly supposed to have entertained, the design imputed to him by Suetonius and Lucan, many of his foUoAvers and disbanded soldiers may have shared in this project, and rendered it a troublesome subject for Augustus to deal with. The idea, is not likely to have gone to the extent of a transfer of the seat of empire from Rome to Troy (nor does Horace intimate that notion in this ode). More probably it was confined to establishing at Troy, or in its neighbour- liood, a colonial or branch government, with special privileges and powers. Nor would there have been wanting plausible political reasons for thus planting a military Roman settlement to guard the empire acquired in the East. Upon tlie assumption that such an idea had favourers sufficientl}' numei-ous to raise it to importance, and that Augustus wislied to discourage it, the intention of Horace, in the speech he ascribes to Juno, becomes clear. Not the rage of the million commanding things evil, Not the doom frowning near in the brows of the tyrant, Shakes the upright and resolute man In his solid completeness of soul ; No, not Auster, the Storm-King of Hadria's wild waters, No, not Jove's mighty hand when it launches the thunder ; If in fragments were shattered the world, Him its ruins would strike undismayed. By this virtue * did Pollux and wandering Alcides Scale, with toil, starry ramparts, and enter on heaven, * " Hac arte," " operp," " by the virtue of this constancy, unwearied by labours, unswerving in purpose, men, becoming the heroes and benefactoi-s of the human race, attain to the glory of immortals." — bee Orelii, note 9 to this ode. 374 THE ODES OP HORACE. Whom between, now Augustus reclined, Quaffs the nectar that purples his lip ; * By this virtue deservedly, thee, Father Bacchus Did the fierce tigers draw t with necks tamed by no mortal ; By this virtue Quirinus escaped, Rapt on coursers of Mars — Acheron : Juno having thus spoken words heard with approval By the gods met in council, J " Troy, Troy lies in ruins — ■ By a fatal and criminal judge § And the false foreign woman o'erthrown ; " Condemned from the day when Laomedon || cheated Vengeful gods of the guerdon agreed ; — forfeit debtor With its people and fraudulent king Unto me and Minerva the pure. " But now the vile guest of the Spartan adult'ress Glitters forth nevermore ; — the forsworn race of Pri'am By the aid of its Hector, no more Breaks in fi-agments the force of the Greek ; " Sunk to rest is the war so prolonged by our discords, Ever henceforth to Mars I give np my resentment, And my grudge to the grandson ^ who springs From the womb of a priestess of Troy. * " Pui'pureo bibit ore nectar." Horace speaks in the present tense, and no doubt with reference to the decree of the Senate after the battle of Actium — viz., that libations should be offered to Octavian in private as well as in public tables, and his name should be inserted in the hymns of praise equally Avith those of the gods. — Dio. 51, 19. Compare Lib. IV. Od. v. 33 ct seq., and Lib. II. Ep. i. 15. f " Vexei-e tigres," i.e. to the seats of the gods, to Olympua. The tigers ai'o the symbols of the savage ferocity tamed by Bacchus.— Orelli. Bacchus is here represented as the civiliser of life. X Met in council to deliberate whether Eomulus should be admitted among the gods. § Paris adjudging the golden apple to Venus. II " Ex quo destituit deos Mercede pacta Laomedon." Troy is here represented as doomed by the crime of its founder Laomedon, who, according to legend, defrauded Neptune and Apollo of the reward promised them for building the walls of the city. It is Laomedon who is meant by "the fraudulent king," " duce fraudulento" — not Priam, on whom, innocent himself, the fraud of his nnccstor is visited. % llomulus being Juno's grandson, born of Mars her son, and Ilia the Trojan priestess. BOOK III, — ODE JIT. 875 "I admit liim to enter the luminous dwellings ; I admit him to sip * of the juices of nectar, And, enrolled in the order serene Of the gods, to partake of their calm. " While between Rome and Ilion there rage the wide ocean, May the exiles be blest wheresoever their dominion ; So long as the wild herd shall range, And the wild beast shall litter her cubs " Undisturbed, 'mid the barrows of Priam and Paris, May the Capitol stand, brightening earth with its And dauntless Rome issue her laws To the Mede she subdues by her arms. " Wide and far may the awe of her name be extended To the uttermost shores, where the girdle of ocean Doth from Africa Europe divide. And where Nile floods the lands with his swell, *' Be she stronger in leaving disdainfully buried In the caverns of earth the gold — better so hidden, Than in wringing its uses to men. With a hand that would plunder the gods.t " What limit soe'er may obstruct her in nature Let her reach by her arms ; and exultingly visit Either pole, where the mist or^he sun Holds the orgies of w^ater or fire. * "Ducerenectarissuccos." "Ducere," i.e. "sorbillere," to sip. — Orelli. Several MSS. have " discore," which reading is favoured by Dillenburger, Orelli, Munro, and Macleane prefer "ducere," "which," as the last observes, " is in very common use in tlic sense of ' quaflBng.' " t " Quam cogere humanos in usus Onnie sacrum rapiente dextra." The point here, as Orelli observes, is in the antithesis between " humanos " and " sacrum." Mncleunc paraphrases the general meaning of the passage thus, — " Let Rome extend her arms as t^he will, only let her not, as her possessions increase, learn to prize gold above virtue." The more literal meanin?, according to Dillenburger and Orelli, is, that in the lust of gold the hand of rapine sacrilegiously despoils the sacred vessels dedicated to gods in then- shrines and temples. 376 THE ODES OF HORACE. " I to Rome's warlike race speak such fates, on con- dition That they never, too pious to antique forefathersi, Nor confiding too far in their power, Even wish Trojan roofs to restore. *' What though Troy could revive under auspices fatal — All her fortunes should be repetition of carnage ; I myself leading hosts to her doom — I the consort and sister of Jove ! " Rose her brazen wall thrice, with Apollo for founder,* Still her brazen wall thrice should be ;*azed by my Argives ; Thrice the captive wife mourn for her lord, Thrice the mother her children deplore." Ah, this strain does not chime to my lute's lively measures ! Whither tendest thou, Muse? Cease, presumptuous, to mimic The discourses of gods ; nor let down To a music low-pitched, lofty themes. ODE IV. INVOCATION TO CALLIOPE. It is observable that in this ode as well as in the last, and in Odes v7 and vi., composed for political purposes, Horace indulges much more in the flights and fancies and seeming digressions proper to poetry purely lyrical than in Odes i. and ii., in which, inculcating moral or noble sentiments applicable to men of all parties, he is earnestly didactic. But treating political subjects, on which men's minds were divided, he shows wonderful delicacy of art in conveying his purpose tlirough forms of poetry least likely to oflend. In Ode iii., dissuading from the project of a settlement in Troy, it is not he that speaks, it is Juno. In Ode iv., desiring to imply that tlic ascendancy of Augustus is the intellectual and godlike mastery over irrational force, he begins by an invocation to Calliope, intimating his ambition to accomplish a majestic or sustained poem Avithout revealing its purport ; passes on to the "lovely stanzas descriptive of his own devotion to poetry from childhood ; links this description with inimitable subtlety of touch to Augustus's culture of the humanising arts (v, 37, "Vos Cicsarem," &c.) ; implies the union of such literary tastes with the policy of peace (" militia * " Auctore Phoebo," the founder of the first Troy. BOOK Tir. — ODE IV. 377 simul Fessas coliortes addidit oppidis," &c.), and with conciliatory and clement dispositions (" lene consilium," «S:c.) ; and tlien, with a lyrical suddenness, bui-sts into the theme for which he had invoked the muse at the commcucoment,--" Scimus ut impios ; " insinuathig, in the myth of the victory obtained over brute force by the jj^ods that represent wisdom ^Pallas), industry (Yulcan), social and domestic order (Juno), tlie ennobling arts (Apollo), not only the victory of Augustus, but the social and civilising influences to wliich the victory is ascribed, and by which it is lastingly maintained. Descend, Qaeen Calliope, from heaven, And on thy fife discourse in lengthened music ; * Or lov'st thou more the lyre By Phoebus strung ; or thrill of vocal song? Hear ye, or doth the sweet delirium fool me ? I seem to hear her, and with her to wander Where gentle winds and waves Steal their soft entrance into hallowed groves. Me, when a child, upon the slopes of Vultur Strayed, truant, from my nurse Apulia's threshold, f And tired with play and sleep, Did mythic doves with budding leaves bestrew ; A miracle to all who hold their eyrie In beetling Acherontia, or whom forests Embower in Bantian glens. Or rich Forentum's lowland glebes enclose. That, safe from prowling bear and baleful adder— That, heaped with myrtle and the hallowing laurel. Calm I should slumber on. Infant courageous under ward divine. Yours, yours am I, Muses, whether lifted To Sabine hills— or whether cool Prasnestc, Or Tibur's sunny slopes, Or limpid Baite J more my steps allure. * " Longum— nielos." "In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness, long drawn out." — MiLTON. Macleane says "longum" means a sustained and stately song. Yonge observes, that though it may be so translated, it is enough to understand it, with Orelli, as a mode of saying " Come, and leave me not hastily or soon." t See Excursus at the end of the ode. X " Liquido) Uaiaj." The epithet applies either to the salubrity and 378 THE ODES OF HORACE. The lines arrayed and routed at Philippi, The accursL^d tree, the rock of Palinurus,* Stormed by Sicilian waves, Spai^ed mo, the lover of your choirs and fountfs. Where ye be with me I would go undaunted ; Tempt, a glad mariner, the madding Euxine ; Or, a blithe traveller, brave The sands that burn upon Assyrian shores Visit the Briton, terrible to strangers, Concanian hordes, drunk with the blood of horses, And, safe from every harm. Quivered Geloni and the Scythian stream. High Cessar, seeking to conclude his labours, Settling in peaceful towns war- wearied cohorts,t Ye solace and refresh In the Pierian grotto's placid shade. purity of the waters, or to the clearness of the air at Baia). — Schol. Cruq. Orelh prefers the latter interiiretation. "Limpid" appears the best trans- lation of "liquidae," being applicable equally to either air or water, which " liquid," in our sense of the* word, would not be. * " Nee Sicula Palinurus unda." Cape Palinurus, a promontory on the western coast of Lucania. All attempts to ascertain at what period of his life, or on what occasion, Horace escaped shipwreck off Palinurus, are but mere conjectures. t " Militia simul Fessas cohortes addidit oppidis." The MSS. vary in the reading— " addidit," "abdidit," and "reddidit." Dillenburger prefers " abdidit," which the scholiasts explain as being sent to winter quarters. Orelli powerfully contends for " addidit," as significant of new towns or colonies, in favour of which he cites Tacitus, Ann. xiii. 31, " Colonia) Capua atque Nuceria additis veteranis firmat© sunt." After the conquest of the Salassi, a people of the Gaulish Alps (a.u.c. 729), Augustus assigned their territory to the Prastorian troops, who built Augusta Pnetoiia (Aosta). To other troops were assigned lands in Lusitania, Augusta Emerita (Merida). Macleane agrees with Orelli. Munro, a higher autliority on such questions than Macleane, prefers and adopts " abdidit." The true reading being, however, uncertain, I have left it equally vague in the translation. I may observe, however, that as Macleane, in common with other eminent commentators, considers this ode written between a.u.c. 725 and 728, the line cannot refer to the new towns in the territory taken from the Salassi, A.u.c. 729. BOOK TIL — ODE IV. 379 Ye are the natural givers of mild counsel, Yonr joy to give it, ye yourselves so gentle ! * t We know how He, whose law Tempers the sluggish earth and windy sea, He who, the Sole One, rules with tranquil justice The 'stablished states — the varying crowd of mortals, Gods, and the Ghastly Realms — Smote with prone bolt the Titan's impious crew, And banded giants towering into battle : That horrid youth in strength of arm confiding — Brethren who sought to pile Pelion on dun Olympus, and to Jove Himself sent fear. But what availed Typhoous, AVhat Mimas or Porphyrion's stand of menace,! What Rhoetus, or the bold Hurler of trees uptorn, Enceladus, Rushing against Minerva's sounding aegis ? Here, keen, stood Vulcan — here the matron Juno, And he, who never more Will from his shoulders lay aside the bow, * " Vos lone consilium et datis, et dato Gaiuletis, alniic." " Ye give peaceful counsel, and rejoice in giving it because ye are gentle." — Maclkaxe. t Here Horace, starting from the picture of Augustus cultivating tlie Muses, and taking from tliem liumane counsels, proceeds with poetic abiupt- ness to symbolise the victory of Augustus over the violent and irrational forces hostile to tlie great social interests of man. The reader must not suppose (as some critics have inconsiderately done) that Horace signifies Augustus himself in the attributes he assigns to Jove. He ■would very imperfectly understand Horace who could conceive him thus to abaso to the level of an eartlily vicegerent that supreme divinity, to whom tliere is no likeness and no second. Horace does but imply that the same Divine Powers who defeated the brute forces of the Titans and giants were on the side of Augustus in the civil wars. X '* Aut quid minaci Porphyrion statu." As more poetic and expressive, I have adopted the literal translation of " status" — i. e. " a standing still," as opposed to motion — rather than that of •' attitude," in which sense Poiceilini interprets the word in these lines, — an interpretation commended by Youge. 3S0 THE ODES OF HORACE. Who, in tlie pure dew of Castalia's fonntain, Laves loosened hair,* who holds the Lycian thicket And his own native wood, Apollo, Delian, and Patarean king. By its own weight sinks force, when void of counsel : Let force be tempered and the gods increase it : But force which urges on To each unhallowed deed — the gods abhor. Witness this truth, the hundred-handed Gryas — Witness the doom of Dian's vast assailer, Lustful Orion, quelled By the chaste conqueror with the virgin shaft. Earth heaped above them mourns her buried monsterr,, And wails her offspring, into lurid Orcus Hurled by the heavenly bolt ; The swiftest fires consume not ^tna, piled Over the struggling giant ; f the wing'd jailer J Of lustful Tityus never quits its captive ; Three hundred fetters hold The ravisher Pirithous fast in hell. * Every reader of taste will be struck by the exquisite grace with which Horace lingers on this lovely picture of Apollo (Augiistus's favourite deity), in contrast, as Orelli observes, to the monstrous images to which he is opposed. " Delius et Patareus : " Apollo is mythically said to have resided (or given oracles) at Patara, in Lycia, for six months in the year — the other six at Delos, his native isle. Macleane remai-ks that, " In enumerating the principal gods who assisted Zeus in the battle, Horace means to say, that although they were present, it was Pallas to whom the victory is mainly owing, otherwise the force of his argument is lost." But, as is said in the introduction, Horace appears to me to have desired emphatically, though symbolically, to intimate the nature of the Powers that were ranged on the side of Pallas, i.e. in the cause of Augustus — Yulcan, the representative of industry — Juno, of social order and marriage— Apollo, of arts and letters. This supposition is in accordance with the social or politicar objects to which these odes are devoted, and with the special benefits which Horace elsewhere ascribes to the reign of Augustus. t " Nee peredit Impositam celer ignis iEtnam." Tlie fires of JEtna, however swiftly they burst forth, cannot consume the heap piled above Enceladus, so a.s ever to free him. — Orelli. Horace does not say who was the giant crushed xmder iEtna. Callitnachus says it was Enceladus, and also Briareus ; Pindar and iEschylus say it was Typhoeus. I have left this question in the translation as vague as Horace It avcs it, though I have been compelled to take the licence of adding the words, " the BOOK III. — ODE IV. 381 Excursus. " Me fabulosae Volture in Apulo Altricis extra limen Apulitu Ludo fatigatumquc soinno." I omit in the translation the adjective Apulian (Apulo) applied to Vultur, because, as between Apulo in one line and Apulia) in the next, the text is generally supposed to be corrupt. Apu(lo) in the first line, is Apu(licc) in the second ; and though there are sufficient instances of variation of quantity in proper names — such as Priamus, Prlamides, Sicanus, Sicania, Italus, &c. — yet it is thought improbable that in so elaborate a poem Horace would have A'aried the quantity in two consecutive lines, and, says Munro, " to shorten an esscntijUly long Italian syllable like Apulia or Appenninus would be portentous in classical times." Passing by the prosodiacal objection^ a graver difficulty has been found in the construction, "Me in Apulian Vultur bevond the threshold of my nurse Apulia." The Appenninc range, still called " Monte Vulture," was partly in Apulia, partly in Lucania. And Horace, Satire ii. 1, says it is doubtful Avhether he was a Lucanian or an Apulian, for the farmers of Venusia (his birthplace) ploughed the boundaries of both these provinces. Had he said " Lucanian Vultur," " beyond the threshold of Apulia," the passage, therefore, would have been clear; but " in Apulian Vultur, out of Apulia," is a puzzle for commentators. It is not to be wondered at that Bentley, ever ready upon slighter ground to disturb a text and hazard an invention, shoxild vehemently repudiate this reading ; and getting rid of Apulia and poetry altogether, boldlj^ propose to blood, has discovered her name to be Pulia, " extra limina Puliae which case the lines may be imitated thus : — " Me on the slope of Bi-ighton Downs, IJeyond the threshold of nurse Downie." The most recent and the most plausible conjecture will be found in the preface to Mr. Yonge's edition, p. vi., "Altricis extra limina viUuleD," "beyond the precincts of my native homestead." To this Munro objects " that diminutives used to such excess in the language of the people, in the comic poets, in Catullus and others, almost disappeared from the higher poetry of the Augustan and later ages." Mr. Yonge suggests, p. vii., a yet bolder, but a less acceptable emendation, "Nutricis extra limma villica»," observing, that the " villica" was an important person in a plain country- house — tne responsible manager for every part of tho household arrange- ments. The consti-uction would then be, " oeyond the threshold of my nurse the bailiff's wife." As the obscurity of this passage has tasked the subtlest criticsj I feel that I shall gratify all Horatian scholars by subjecting the following communication from a very high authority : — " I cannot see any difficulty about the Apulia) and Apulo ; the adjective and substantive often differ in accent, as galldnt and gallant. Horace claims Vultur as an Apulian mountain, but says that he has strayed beyond its Apulian side; just as a child at Macugnaga might say that he had strayed ou the ' Pietlmontese Monte Moro' beyond the limits of Piedmont." struggling giant," in order to prevent a misconception of the meaning, — such as occurs, for inatance, in Smart, " Isor docs tho active fire consume ^I'tna, that is placed over it." 1 The vulture. 882 THE ODES OF HOrvACE. ODE V. THE SOLDIER FORFEITS HIS COUNTRY WHO SURRENDERS HLMSELF TO THE ENEMY IN BATTLE. In tliis ode the political object of Horace is to stigmatise the lloman soldiers, who, being made prisoners— or, to use an appi-opriate French word, detenus — after the defeat of Crassus, had accustomed themselves to the country in Avhich they were detained, married into barbarian families, and accepted military service under the conqueror ; and in thus energetically representing the moral disgrace of these men, Horace is veiy evidently opposing some proposition then afloat for demanding their restoration from the Partliians. Such demand, which would no doubt be urged by the relatives of the detenus, and perhaps by many old fellow-soldiers in the Roman army, might easily have acquired the importance of what we call a party question. And if Horace here opposes it, it is pretty certain that Augustus opposed it also at that time. Hence the ode would have been written before Augustus redemanded (a.u.c. 731) the Eoman captives and standards from Phraates. And the date a.u.c. 728 or 729, assigned to the ode by Orelli, is probably the true one. A demand which circumstances rendered reasonable and politic in 731, might have been very inopportune and unwise two or three years before. In aiming at his political object, Horace skilfully eludes its exact definition. He begins by sajdng, that as it is by his thunder we believe in Jove, so the power of Augustus will be recognised when he shall have added the Bi'itons and Parthians to his empire. Thus, agreeably ^vith the oratorical character of his poetry, on wliich I have obseiwed in. the. preliminary essay, his exordium propitiates the ear of the party he is about to oppose, viz. those clamorous for the restoration of the Parthian prisoners. He follows this exordium with a rapid outburst on the ignominy of these very prisoners, and then, with admirable boldness, places the argument against their restoration in the mouth of the national hero Eegulus. It is in these and similar passages that Horace not only soars immeasurably above the level of didactic poetr}- properly so called, but justifies his claim to a far higher rank even in lyrical poetry than many of his modern critics are disposed to accord to him. He attains to that region of the sublime which bel(Jngs to heroic sentiment, and which is the rarest variety of the sublime even in the tragic drama, 'Tis by liis thunder we believe Jove reigns In heaven : on earth,* as a presiding god, When to his realm annexed Briton and Persian,t Ccesar shall be held ! What ! hath the soldier who with Crassus served, Lived the vile spouse of a barbarian wife ? Shame to Rome's Senate ! % shame On manners that invert the Rome of old ! * " ' Pra^sens divus ' is obviously ' j)ra)sens in terris,' as opposed to ' cajlo.' " — Macleane. t Persian for Parthian, as Lib. I. Od. ii. 22. X *' Pro Curia," &c. — viz., " Shame to the Senate for the scandal to its dignity iu having so long endured a disgrace so ignominious."— OiiELLi. BOOK III. — ODE V. 883 Marsian, Apulian, sons-in-law to foes Of tbeir own sires ! grown grey in hireling mail Bencatli a Median king ! Oblivious of tlie sacred shields of Mars, Oblivious both of toga and of name, And Vesta's unextinguishable fire,* While yet live Jove and Rome ! f Ah ! this the provident mind of Regulns Foresaw, when arguing that to buy from Death Captives unworthy pity, on vile terms, Would serve in after days, As the sure precedent of doom to Rome. " I," thus he said, *' have with these eyes beheld The Roman standards nailed to Punic shrines ; From Roman soldiers seen The bloodless weapons wrenched without a blow j " Seen the stout arms of Roman citizens Twisted, all slave-like, behind free-born backs, While foes retillcd safe fields, And left expanded portals sentryless. " The soldier, ransomed by your gold, forsooth. Comes back the braver ! you add loss to shame. | Never the wool regains Gone hues, when once drugg'd with the sea-wucd's dye j *' Never true valour, when it once departs, Deigns to resettle in degenerate souls. If, when from toils set free. The hind vnll fight, the captive will be bravo I * " Horace collects the most distinguished objects of a Roman's reverence —his name, his citizenship (togfc), tlie shield of Miirs only to be lost, and the fire of Vesta only to be extinguished, when liome should perish." — Macleans. t Incolurai Jove." " Salvo Capitolio," Schol. — vi«., the Capitol in which stood the temple of Capitolinc Jove. X " Flagitio additis Damnum." Orelli, Dillenburger, and Madeano agree in considering that " damnum" docs not refer, iis some suppose, to the loss of the ransom, but to the damage done by the e.\a:uple of ransoming eaptivcs who had evinced so little coui'age. -7 v< 384 THE ODES OF HORACE. "Who hath consigned himseH to faithless foes, He will crush Carthage in fresh battle-fields, He — who hath felt the thong On passive wrists, — and owned the fear of death. *' How to hold life ignoring, — he hath made Peace for himself amidst his country's war,* shame ! great Carthage hail, Throned on the ruins of a Home disgraced ! " Then it is said, he turned from the embrace Of his chaste wife and babes, as one to whom All the old rights are lost ; f Stern, and with manly face bent earthward down. Until the unexampled counsel fixed The wavering senate on its author's side, And, pauseless, through the ranks Of mournful friends, the glorious exile passed. Albeit he knew what the barbarian skill Of the tormentor for himself prepared, He motioned from his path The opposing kindred, the retarding crowd, Calmly as if, some client's tedious suit Closed by his judgment,^ to Venafrian fields Or mild Tarentum, built By antique Spartans, went his quiet way. ^ * '* Hie, unde vitam sumeret inscius, Pacem duello miscuit." That is, such a man, not eomprehending that it is only by his own un- jdelding valour that he should save his life, confounds peace and Avar by nuiking peace for himself on the field of battle. Conditions of peace belong to the state, not to the individual soldier, upon -whom the state imposes the duty to fight at any hazard of life. — See Orelli's note. t " Capitis minor." The expression signifies the man who has lost his civil rights, as did the Eoman citizen taken prisoner by the enemy. X The patrons were accustomed to settle the dispute between their clients. BOOK III. — ODE VI. 885 ODE VI. ON THE SOCIAL CORRUFnON OF THE TIME. Macleane observes that, " As the former (five) odes are addressed more to qualities of young men, this refers more especially to the vices of young women, and so Horace discharges the promise with which this series of odes begins." To me, on the contrary, it is precisely because of the lines which so freely describe the vices of young women, single and married, that I hesitate to class this ode among those to which the introductory verse of the first ode applies. Let any man consider if a poet, as the Muse's priest, could have addressed, in the original, lines from 21 to 32, not to freed-women and singing-girls, but to the well-bom maidens and brides of Eome. That the poem was written about the same time as the others is a reasonable conjecture, and probably with the same intention of assisting the reforms of Augustus, among which Horace subsequently celebrates the stricter laws regulating and affecting marriage. But I do not think the poem was or could be one of those specially addressed to the young ; and, independently of the lines I have referred to, the concluding stanza, in fierce condemna- tion of themselves and their immediate parents, would be very unlike the skilful way in which Horace " admissus cii'cum proecordia ludit." Roman, tlie sins thy fathers have committed, From thee, though guiltless, shall exact atonement, Till tottering fanes * and temples be restored, And smoke-grimed f statues of neglected gods. Thou rul'st by being to the gods subjected, To this each deed's conception and completion Refer ; full many an ill, the gods contemned Have showered upon this sorrowing Italy. Twice have Monseses J and the Parthian riders Of Pacorus crushed our evil-omened onslaught, And to their puny torques smiled to add The spoils of armour stripped from Roman breasts, * The restoration of the temples and fanes decayed by time, or buniod down in the civil wars, was among the chief reforms of Augustus.— Suet., Oct. XXX. t "Smoke-grimed," — partly by conflagrations commemorated by Tacitus and Suetonius, partly by the fumes from the sacrifices. Stated times for the washing of the statues, with solemn rites, were appomted. X Pacorus, son of the Parthian king Arsaces XIV., defeated Decidius Saxa, legate to M. Antony. Four years later, when Pacorus was dead, the Parthians defeated Antony commanding in person. It is not known who is meant by Monaises. Plutarch mentions a Parthian of that name who fled to Antony, but it nowhere appears that ho bore arms against the Romans. Orelli and Macleane favour the conjecture that by Mona)se3 is meant Surenas, who defeated Crassus, A.u.c. 701 — supposing Surcnas to be merely an Oriental title of dignity, and Moasesea to have been the proper name of Crassus' 8 conqueror. 386 THE ODES OF HORACE. Daoian and yEtMopian,* dread-inspiring — One with his archers, with his fleets the other — Well-nigh destroyed this very Rome herself, While all her thought was on her own fierce brawls. This age, crime-bearing, first polluted wedlock. Hence race adulterate, and hence homes dishallowed ; f And from this fountain flowed a poisoned stream. Pest-spreading through the people and the land. The ripening virgin, blushes, learns delighted Ionic dances ; in the art of wantons Studiously fashioned ; even in the bud, Tingles, within her, meditated sin.J Later, a wife — her consort in his cups. She courts some younger gallant, whom, no matter, Snatching the moment from the board to slip. And hide the lover from the tell-tale lights. § * This is an allusion to the threats of Antony and Cleopatra against Rome— "Dum Capitolio Regina dementes ruinas, Funus et imperio parabat." — Lib. I. Od. xxxvii. The Dacian archers were auxiliaries in Antony's army at Actium. By the Ethiopians is meant the Egyptian fleet. The ode must therefore have been written alter the battle of Actium. t Here Horace, tracing the corruption of the times to the contempt of the marriage-tie, whether by adultery or the excess to which the licence of divorce was carried, aids Augustus in the reforms he effected in the law of marriage. J " Jam nunc et incestos amores. De tenero meditatur uugui." I have adhered to the received and simplest interpretation of " de tenero ungui," " from earliest youth or tender years," But another interpretation, which Orelli considers very ingenious and appears to approve, will be found in his note to the passage, "penitus ex mtimis nervis" — as we say in English, "tingling to the Anger-ends;" or, as the French say, clever or wicked, " au bout des ongles." ^ " Irapermissa raptim Gaudia, luminibus remotis," " Raptim non est ' furtim ' sed ' celeriter,' ita est statini post venerem in triclinium redeat/' &c. — Orellt. BOOK III. — ODE VII. 887 Prompt at the bock (her venal spouse conniving) Of some man-milliner * or rude sea-captain Of trade-ship fresh from marts of pilfered Spain, Buying full dearly the disgrace she sells. Not from such parents sprang that race undaunted, Who reddened ocean with the gore of Carthago, Beat down stout Pyrrhus, great Antiochus, And broke the might of direful Hannibal. That manly race was born of warriors rustic, Tutored to cleave with Sabine spades the furrow, And, at some rigid mother's bluff command, Shouldering the logs their lusty right hands hewed, What time the sun reversed the mountain shadows, And from the yoke released the wearied oxen, As his own chariot slowly passed away, Leaving on earth the friendly hour of rest. What does time dwarf not and deform, corrupting ! Our father's age ignobler than our grandsires* Bore us yet more depraved ; and we in turn Shall leave a race more vicious than ourselves. ODE VII. TO A S T E R I A. This poem tells its own tale. It has that peculiar grace in which Horace is inimitable. Orelli says, " On account of its elegant pleasantry, and the mode in which the action is brought out into evidence— although the whole scene, and the three persons wlio play their part in it, are pure poetic in- ventions — it may be classed among Horace's liappiest poems." It is indeed a miniature lyrical comedy, and, slight though it be in substance, may be cited as an example of the skill with which Horace can give to a few stanzas the lively effect of a drama. The date is unknown, but is referred by some to a.u.c. 729. * " ' Institor,' * an agent, a trader in articles of dress or for the toilet.' " — YoNQE. I have tnui.slated this " man-millinor," for there seems some kind of antithesis intended between the effeminate occupations of the "institor" and tho rough numncrs of the shipmaster. 2 3S8 THE ODES OF HORA.CE. Nay, Asteria, wliy weep'st thou for Gjges, Whom, enriched with Bithynia's rich cargoes, The first sparkling zephyrs of spring- Shall waft back to thee, constant as ever ? By the south wind on Oricus driven. At the rise of the turbulent goat-star, Unsleeping, he weeps, through the night, The dull chill of his partnerless pillow, But the agent of Chloe, his hostess. Tells the youth that in her he has kindled A flame no less ardent than thine. In a thousand ways craftily tempting : Warns him how the false consort of Proetus Duped her credulous lord, by feigned charges. Into plotting Bellerophon's death, For too chastely regarding his hostess.* Tells how Peleus Hippolyte t slighted. And was all but consigned to dark Hades ; Then seeks to allure him by tales Teaching lessons for sinning in safety : All in vain ! To his words is thy true-love Deaf as rocks to the breakers Icarian ; But keep sharp look-out on thyself, Lest too charmed with thy neighbour Enipeus ; * Proetus, believing tlie story of his wife Anteia, that Bellerophon had attempted to seduce her, but unwilling himself to slay his guest, sent him to his father-in-law lobates, king in Lycia, with sealed letters, in which lobutes was requested to destroy the bearer. t This lady, otherwise called Astydamia, made the same charge against Peleus to her husband Acastor that Anteia did to Proetus against 13ellerophon, and for the same reason. Acastor, like Pra'tus, having scruples of con- science which forbade him to slay his guest with his own hand, invited Peleus to hunt Avild beasts in Mount Pclion ; and when Peleus, overcome with fatigue, fell asleep on the mountain, Aciivstor concealed his sword, and left him alone and unarmed to be devoured by the beasts. Peleus on waking and searching for his sword was attacked by Centaurs, but saved by Chiron. BOOK III.— ODE VIII. 389 Though no ridor so skilled and so noticed Wheels a steed on the turf of the Campus ; * JN'o swimmer so lustily cleaves Rapid way down the stream of the Tuscan. Make thy door fast at eve, never looking Down the street if shrill fifes serenade thee ; And be but more rigidly cold Whensoe'er he complains of thy coldness. ODE VIII. TO M-SCENAS, ON THE ANNIVEESARY OP HORACE'S ESCAPE FROM THE FALLING TREE. According to Franke, Horace's escape from the tree was in A.r.c. 728. Eitter places it in 724. This poem commemoratee the anniversary of that accident, Learn'd as thou art in lore of either language,t Thou marvellest why these hymeneal Kalends Of March J I keep — I, solitary Caelebs, Wherefore these flow 'rets ? This censer full of incense ? this heaped fuel On the live sod ? Know that, escaped the death-blow Of the dire tree, I a white goat to Bacchus Vowed, and feast off'rings. The day, thus sacred, with the year returning. Shall free from pitch-seal'd cork-bonds which confine it, That jar § which first imbibed the smoke-reek under Tullus the Consul. * " Flectcre cquuni." This was to wheel the horse round in a small circle. — Macleane. t Viz., Greek and Latin, which, as the commentators observe, compre- hended all the learning a lloinan could well acquire. X The Matronalia, in honour of Jvmo Lucina, were held in the March Kalends. § " Amphone fumum." The jar, or amphora, was kept in the apotheca, and ripened bj^ the smoke from the bath below it. The pitch and cork which fastened it protected the wine itself from being smoked. The wino in the amphora now to be broached, dating back to Tullus the Consul, A.u.C. 683, would have been a year older thtin Horace himself. 390 THE ODES OF HORACE. In honour of thy friend thus saved, Maecenas, Quaif brimming cups — a hundred be the number ; Let the gay lights watch with us for the morning, Noise and broil banished. Give to thy provident cares for Rome a respite, Routed are Ootiso's fierce Dacian armies, Mede wroth with Mede, upon fraternal slaughter, Wastes his wild fury.* Subject to Rome, and curbed in tardy fetters, The old Cantabrian foe on shores Hispanian ; Lo ! the grim Scythians meditate retreating — Lax are their bow-strings. As one who takes in private life his leisure, A while forego the over-care for nations ; Leave things severe ; life offers one glad moment — Seize it with gladness. ODE IX. THE RECONCILIATION. " One of Buttmann's remarks with reference to this Ode is well worth quoting : ' The ancients had the skill to construct such poems so that each speech tells us by Avhom it is spoken ; but we let the editors treat us aU our lives as schoolboys, and interline such dialogues after the fashion of our plays Avith the names. To their sedulity we are indebted for the alternation of the lyrical name Lydia with the name Horatius in this exquisite work of art ; and yet even in an English poem Ave should be offended by seeing Collins at the side of Phyllis.' " — Macleane. The poem itself is, perhaps, an imitation from the Greek. Maclean? observes, *' It is just such a subject as one might expect to find among the erotic poetry of the Greeks." He. " While I yet to fchee was pleasing, While no dearer youth entwined lavish arms round thy white neck, * The precise dates of these historical allusions are matters of contro- versy, and not possible to determine. By the Mede is meant the Parthian, distnicted by the civil feuds between Phraates and Tiridates. BOOK in. — ODE IX. 391 Happy then, indeed, I flonrished, Never Persian king * was blest with such riches as were mine."t She. " While no other more inflamed thee, -. And below no Ohloe's rank Lydia in thy heart was placed. Glorious then did Lydia flourish, Roman Ilia's lofty name not so honoured as was mine."t He. " O'er me now reigns Thracian Chloe, Skilled in notes of dulcet song and the science of the lute ; If ray death her life could lengthen. So that Fate my darling spared, I without a fear could dic."J She. " From a mutual torchlight kindled Is my flame for Calais, son of Thurian Ornytus,§ If my death his life could lengthen, So that Fate would spare the boy, I a double death would die ! " He. " What if Venus fled — returning. Forced us two, dissevered now, back into her brazen yoke; If I shook off auburn Chloe, And to Lydia, now shut out, opened once again the door ? " * " Persarum vigui rogc bcatior." The opposition between the lover's comparison in this stanza and the girl's in the next ('* Romana vigui clarior Ilia") is this: The lover means that he was richer in her love than the wealthiest king ; the girl that she (the humble frecd-wonian) was more honoured in his love than the most illustrious matron. t Ilia, as the mother of llomulus, queen and priestess, stands here as the noblest type of Iloman matrons, " llomanorum nobilissima." :t " Si parcent animai fata supcrstiti." '* Anima) mca) " denotes a familiar expression of endearment, as in Ci('(>ro, ad. Fam. xiv. 14 ; and as the Italians still call their mistress, " Auima mia." ^"Thurini Calais — Thi-essa Chloe." The alliteration between the names hero selected seems studied. In making Chloe a Thracian and 392 THE ODES OF HORACE. She. *' Than a star thougli he be fairer, Lighter thou than drifted^ cork — rougher thou than Hadrian wave,* Yet how willingly J answer, 'Tis with thee that I would live — gladly I with thee would die." ODE X. TO LYCE. This humorous ode belongs to a kind of serenade common enough with the Greeks, and is probably imitated from a Greek original. There is no reason for supposing the Lyce whose cruelty is here complained of, to be identical with the Lyce who is lampooned in Book IV. Ode xiii. Didst thou drink at the uttermost waters of Don, To some savage barbarian, Lyce, the spouse. Still, thy heart with compassion might think of me stretched Where the north winds are quartered outside of thy door. Hark ! the hinge of thy gate ; hark ! the plants in thy hall,t With what dissonant howl they re-echo the blasts, And with what icy clearness the frost-air above Renders crisper the snows that are heapen below ! Calais the son of a Sybarite (Thurium, a town of Lucania, near the site of the ancient Sybaris), the poet perhaps insinuates that the lady who had replaced Lydia was somewhat too rude or masculine — the gentle- man who had replaced the lover of the dialogue somewhat too soft and effeminate. * " Improbo — Hadria." Orelli interprets *'improbo" by *'to6enb," "raging." The poets use the word "improbus" to imply anything in violent excess, Ritter, with perhaps over-subtlety, considers that the com- parison to a cork refers, not to levity of temperament, but to the insigni- ficant stature of the poet in conti-ast to the beauty of Calais. f "Nemus Inter pulcUra satum tccta." Small trees were sometimes planted round the impluvium of a Roman house. This is the interpretation adopted by Orelli. Ritter contends that the line refers to one of the two sacred groves situated between the two heights of the Capitoline. BOOK III. — ODE XI. 393 Lay the Laughtincss hateful to Venus aside, Lest the wheel should run back and the rope should be snapped,* Thy gay parent Tyrrhenian ne'er meant to produce A Penelope cruel to suitors in thee. Ah ! although thou art proof against presents and prayers, And the pale-blue complexion of lovers disdained ; Nor ev'n bowed to revenge on the spouse led astray By a roving Pierian f less chaste than a Muse ; Yet, while granting thy heart is not softer than oak, And as mild as the snakes in the land of the Moor, Spare the life of a suppliant ! I am of flesh. And can bear not for ever this porch and that sleet. { ODE XI. TO THE LTEE. "The common inscription, *Ad Mercuriuni' (to Mercury), adopted by Bentley and others, is plainly wrong, and calculated to mislead. The in- scription should be 'Ad testiidinem ' (to the lyre or shell) if anything, for Mercury disappears after the first two verses. The miracles alluded to, except Amphion's, were those of Orpheus, and of the lyre in his hands, not Mercury's — Avhich Orelli not perceiving, contradicts himself." — Macleane. Mercury (for, tutored in thy lore, Amphion Charmed into motion rocks by his sweet singing). And thou, my lyre, with sevenfold chord resounding Measures not skill-less, * " Ne currente retro funis eat rota." This line has been tortured to many interpretations. " Lest the wheel turn back and the rope with it," is Orelli' 8, accepted by Macleane, who observes, the metaphor in that case is taken from a rope wound round a cylinder, which, being allowed to run back, the rope runs down, and the weight or thing attached goes with it. "The rope may break and the wheel run back," is the construction Macleane gives in his argument to the ode. t " Pieria pellice," Macedonian lady of pleasure. — Orelli, Ritter. There is some humour as well as wit in coupling " pellico " with an epithet 80 suggestive of an opposite idea. X ♦' Aquaj Ca^lestis patiens." The expression can scarcely apply to rain, since the night has been described as one of wind and frost : — ** Glaciet nives Pure numine Juppiter ; " "puro" being, as Macleane observes, "an epithet well suited to a clear, 394 THE ODES OF HORACE. Albeit once, unmusical, unheeded,* Now welcome both in banquet-halls and temples, Teach me some strain resistlessly beguiling Lyde to listen. "Wild as the filly in its third year, frisking Through the wide meadows, the least touch dismays her ; Never yet won, she views as saucy freedom Even the wooinor. But thouf hast power to lead away the tigers, And in their train the forests ; stay swift rivers ; Cerberus himself, dread jailer of dark thresholds, Soothed into meekness. Yielded to thy bland voice his hundred strongholds Of fury-heads, each garrisoned with serpents, And hushed the triple tongue in jaws whose breath-reek Tainted the hell- gloom ; The tortured lips of Tityos and Ixion Reluctant smiled ; awhile their urn stood thirsty As paused the Danaids, to the charmer's music Dreamily list'ning. Let Lyde hear the guilt of those stern virgins, Hear, too, their well-known penance; doomed for ever To toil at filling up a sieve-like vessel ; Tell her how surely frosty night," The wind would keep off the snow, but there might be gusty showers of sleety hail. Horace, however, no doubt, uses the expres- sion in a general sense, such as the " floods of heaven," whether they bo snow, rain, or sleet. * " Nee loquax," i.e., "canora," — Dillenburger, Orelli. Horace, though a born poet, if ever there was one — and telling us that even as an infant, when the doves covered him with bay and myrtle, he was marked out for the service of the Muses — does not disdain, here and elsewhere, to intimate that, if a born poet, he had taken very great pains to make himself a good one. t " Thou " refers not to Mercmy, but to the lyre — i. ^., symbolically to the power of song and music, as exercised by Orpheus. BOOK III. — ODE XI. 395 Slow fates await such crimes, — though under Orcus ; Impious — for can impiety be greater ? Impious in giving to the sword their bridegrooms, Ruthlessly murdered.* Amidst the many. One alone was worthy The nuptial torch ; — a maid, through all the ages, By glorious falsehood to her perjured father, Nobly immortal. " Rise," to her youthful bridegroom, thus she whispered ; " Rise, lest there come, and whence thou dost suspect not^ Into thy lids the everlasting slumber ! Baffle my father ; ** Elude my blood-stained sisters — lionesses ; Each — woe is me ! — her separate victim rending : Softer than they, I can nor strike nor hold thee Pent in these shambles ! " Let my sire load me with his barbarous fetters, "Wroth with the pitying love that spares a husband, Or ship me outlawed to Numidian deserts ! Be it so ! Hasten ! " Go wheresoe'er swift foot or sail can bear thee ; Blest be the auspice ! Night and Venus favour ! Go ; be some word that mourns me and remembers Carved on my tombstone ! " t * The old mytliologists differ among themselves as to the fable of Danaus and the fate of his daughters. Horace licrc adopts the common story that Danaus, having reason to tliink that the fifty sons of his brother iEgyptus were plotting against him, fled with his fifty daughters from Libya (the domam assigned him by his father Belus, iEgyptus having Arabia), and ultimately became King of Argos. His nephews came to his new realm and demanded his daughters in marriage. Danaus consented, but, in distrust or revenge, enjoined his daughters to murder their bridegrooms with the swords he gave them for that amiable purpose. On alone, Hypermnestra, spared her husband, Lj-nceus. According to the earlier writers, the Danaides Avere purified of then- crime, and even married again. Later poets, deeming it perhaps more prudent to make a severe example of such dan- gerous bed-fellows, sent them to Orcus; t It is pleasant to think that the modem law of what is called " poetic justice," has a precedent in the final restoration of this young lady to the arms of the husband she had so mercifully spared. Ovid's Epistle of Ilypemmestra to Lynceus, supposed to be written while imprisoned by her father, is much indebted to Horace's lines. But perhaps both poets bor- rowed from a common source wliich is lost to modem discoverers. 396 THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE XIL neobule's soliloquy. Most of the earlier commentators took it for granted that the poet is here addressing Neobule. Dillenbiirger, Orclli, and JNIacleane prefer to consider that Neobule is throughout the ode addressing herself. The poem is, perhaps, more or less imitated from one bv Alcajus, of which only a single verse is preserved. The metre of the ode nas given much trouble to com- mentators, especially to those who insist uvoii the theoij that all Horace's odes are reducible to quatrain stanzas, while this ode is in a stanza of three lines, according to the authority of MSS. (with the exception of the Turinese one). An attempt to remodel it into quatrain will be found in Orelli's excursus to the ode, and is adopted by Yonge in his edition. How nnhappy the lot of poor girls ; neither play to their fancies in love, Neither balm for their sorrows in wine ! frightened out of their souls by the lash In the tongue of some testy relation.* Neobule, wing'd Love has flown off with thy spindles and basket of wools ! And thy studious delight in the toils of Minerva is chased from thy hearfc By young Hebrus, the bright Liparaean. Hardy swimmer in Tiber to plunge gleaming shoulders anointed with oil ! Sure, Bellerophon rode not so well ; as a boxer no arm is so strong ; And no foot is so fleet as a runner. Skilful marksman, when over the champaign the hounds drive and scatter the deer, To select the right stag for his dart ; and as nimble to start the wild boar, Lurking grim in the dense forest-thicket. * Literally " uncle." "Uncles," Torrentius observes, "had considerable power over their nephews and nieces by the Roman law, and, being less in- dulgent than fathers, their severity passed into a proverb." BOOK III. — 0D£ XIII. ' 397 ODE XIII. TO THE BANDUSIAN FOUNTAIN. The site of this fountain has heen a matter of controversy, interesting to those who seek to ascertain the localities of places endeared to them by the poets. Acron and others assumed it to be in the neighbourhood of Horace's Sabine home, and identify it with the rivulet of Digentia (Licenza). It is, however, generally now agreed, upon what appears sufficiently com- petent authority, that Bandusia was in Horace's native soil, about six miles from the site of Yenusia (Dillenburger, Orelli, Macleane). If so, it is con- jectured that the poem would have been written in earlier life, when Horace revisited his native spot— perhaps a.u.c. 717— since it is held scarcely probable that he would have thought of consecrating the fountain in Venusia, when he was settled in the remote district of his Sabine fai*m. It may, however, be likely enough, as Tate contends (Herat. Restit. p. 88), that Horace transferred the name, endeared to him by early association, to the spring near his later home. Yonge suggests the query, *' Was Bandusia the name of the place, or of the presiding nymph of the fountain? " — See Orelli's full and very elegant note on this subject. Fount of Bandusia, more lucid than crystal, Worthy of honeyed wine, not without flowers, I will give thee to-morrow a kid, Whose front, with the budded horn swelling, Predicts to his future life Venus and battles ; Vainly ! The lymph of thy cold running waters He shall tinge with the red of his blood, Fated child of the frolicsome people ! The scorch of the Dog-star's fell season forbears thee ; Ever friendly to grant the sweet boon of thy coolness To the wild flocks that wander around, And the oxen that reek from the harrow. I will give thee high rank and renown among fountains, When I sing of the ilex o'erspreading the hollows Of rocks, whence, in musical fall,* Leap thy garrulous silvery waters. * " 5te dicente cavis impositam ilicem Saxis" — the cavern ovei-shadowed with the ilex from which the fountain gushes.— Oup.lli. 398 THE ODES OF HOEACE. ODE xiy. " Composed at the close of the Cantabrian war, a.u.c. 729, when Augustus's return was expected, or on his return the following year." — ]\[acleane. In noticing the critical animadversions on this ode " as unequal to the occasion," Macleane observes justly that "it was evidently only a private affair." The familiar lightness of the concluding stanzas Avould indicate a merry-making kept with a few personal friends. Joy, O ye people ! it was said tliat Co6sar Went forth like Hercules, in quest of laurels Bouglit but by death ; now home from shores Hispanian Comes he back victor. Let her whose joy in her sole lord is centred* Join, in thanksgivings due, the glad procession — Join with the sister of our glorious chieftain — Join with the mothers, Chastely adorned by sacrificial filletsf — Mothers of children now no more imperilled ; Youths and young brides hush, at such time ill-omened, Each lighter whisper. Truly to me this holiday is sacred. And its bright sunshine chases cloudy troubles. I fear nor open feud nor stealthy murder, J Earth yet holds Ciesar ! Up, boy, and bring the perfume and the garlands. And wine that to the Marsian war bears witness, If one jar, baffling Spartacus the Rover, Somewhere lurks hidden. § * " Unico gaudens mulier marito." See Orelli's note on " unico," wliich some have interpreted in the sense of "unique" or "peerless;" Dillen- burgcr, as " dear or "beloved." t Worn by the Eoman matrons to distinguish them from freed women. I " Nee tumultum, Nee mori per vim metuara." " Tumultum " here evideiatly means "intestine feud" or "popular out- break;" "vim," "assassination," or "personal violence." With Ca)sar is identified tlie prevailing security of law. § " The Marsic or Social war was continued from A.u.c. 6G3 to 665 ; and the Servile war, headed by Spartacus, lasted from A.u.c. 681 to 683; there- fore the wine Horace wanted would have been Tixty-five years old at least. BOOK III. — ODE XV. 399 Go, and bid silver-tongued Netera hasten, Binding in Spartan knot her locks myrrh-scented;* But, if obstructed by that brute her porter, Quietly come back. Nothing cools fiery spirits like a grey hair ; In every quarrel 'tis your sure peacemaker ; In my hot youth, when Plancus was the consul, I was less patient, f ODE XV. ON AN OLD WOMAN AFFECTING YOUTH. The names in this poem are, of course, fictitious, and the satire itself is of very general application even in the present day. Its date is un- discoveraole. Mend thy life — it is time ; cease such pains to be vile, Flaunting wife of the indigent Ibycus ; Fitter far for the grave, do not gambol with girls. Interspersing a cloud 'mid the galaxy. That which Plioloe thy daughter may suit well enough, In thee, hoary Chloris, is horrible : J 'Tis permitted to her to besiege the ycsang rakes' In their homes, with much greater propriety : ' No Bacchante the timbrel excites with its clash, Than that daughter of thine can be livelier ; And her fancy for Nothus so warms her and stings. That no roe on the hills is more frolicsome. There seems to have been something remarkable in the vintage of that period, so as to make it proverbial ; for Juvenal, one hundred }'oars after- wards, speaking of the selfish gentleman who keeps his best wine for Ms own drinking, says :— ' Ipse capillato difiusum consul o potat, Calcatamque tenet bellis soeiahbus uvara.' " — S. V. 30, 80. — Macleane. ♦ " Myrrheum crincm." The scholiasts interproted this expression "myrrh-coloured." Orclli and other recent commentators support the in- terpretation " mvrrh-sccntcd." t i.e., wlion liorace was in his twenty-third year. 1 " Anus cum ludit, Morti dclicias fucit." — 1'. Syrus. 100 THE ODES OF HORACE. What becomes thee the best is a warm woollen dress ; Get thee fleeces from famous Luceria ; * What become thee the least are the lute and the rose, And the cask tippled dry with young rioters. ODE XVI. GOLD THE COERUPTOR. This ode is among Horace's most striking variations of the moral he so fiequently preaches — content versus gold. But here he does full justice to the power of gold as the corruptor. I have not adopted for this ode the frins of metre I have elsewhei'o employed for rendering odes in the same measure (Asclepiadean, with a Glyconean in the 4th line), but one by which I have not unfrequently rendered the Alcaic stanza, with the slight varia- tion of a monosyllabic termination in the second verse, while the termina- tion of the first verse is dissyllabic. The brazen tower, the solid doors,t the vigil Of dismal watch-dogs sentried night and day, Might have sufficed to guard From midnight loves imprisoned Danae ; But Jove and Venus laughed to scorn Acrisius, The timorous jailer of the hidden maid, J Opening at once sure way, The god transformed himself into — a Bribe. More subtle than the flash of the forked lightning, Gold glides amidst the armed satellites ; More potent than Jove's bolt, Gold through the walls of granite bursts its way : * A town in Apulia now called Lucera. In its neighbourhood was one of the largest tracts of public pasture-land. The wools of Luceria wer3 celebrated. t " Robustsecjue fores." Orelli suggests " finnissima)," and objects, not without fine critical taste, to the interpretation of Forcellini and others — viz., " oaken doors," as a descent in poetic expression, just after insisting on "brazen tower." Certainly, in line 9, Ode iii., " Illi robur et aes ti'iplex," "robur" comes first. t Acrisius shut up his daughter in a brazen tower from fear of the oracle, who had predicted that she should bear him a son who would cause his death. He is therefore timorous or panic-stricken (pavidus) because of the oracle. BOOK III. — ODE XVI. 401 So fell tlie Argivo Augur with his kindred,* Grain, tempting one, whelmed in destruction all ; The man of Maccdont By gifts cleft gates, by gifts sapped rival thrones — Gifts have ensnared a Navy's fiercest chiefs, J Care grows with wealth, with wealth the greed for more. O my Majcenas ! gem Of Roman knighthood, § ever have I feared To lift a crest above the crowd conspicuous — Rightly ; the more man shall deny himself. The more shall gods bestow. I do not side with wealth, but, lightly armed, Bound o'er the lines, deserting to Contentment ; Owner more grand in means the rich despise, Than were I said to hide, In mine own granaries, all Apulia yields . *^ . Her toiling sons, want-pinched amidst heaped plenty : — A brooklet pure, some roods of woodland cool, Faith in crops, sure if small — Are a lot happier, though he knows it not, Than his who glitters in the spoils of Afric. Though not for me toil the Calabrian bees. Nor wines in Formian jars Languish their fire in length of years away, * Amphiaraus ; hia wife Eriphyle, bribed by her brother Polynices, persuaded liim to join in the siege of Thebes. There he fell, ordering his sons to put their mother to death. Alcma3on obcj^ed, and finally perished himself in attempting to get the gold necklace with which Eriphyle had been bribed. + Philip of Maccdon. X This 18 held to refer to Menas, alias Menodonis, commander of Sextus Pompeius's fleet. He deserted from Pompeius to Augustus, then again to Pompeius, and again to Augustus. He had been freed-man to C. M. Pompeius. § " Maicenas, cquitum decus." By this significant reference to Maecenas ns the ornament of knighthood, Horace associates Maecenas with liimself in the philosophy of contentment — !Ma!cenas, having always remained in the equestrian order, to wliich lie was born, declining promotion to the senatorial. D » 40 -^ THE ODES OF HOUACE. Nor fleecy wools gain weight in Gallic pastures, Yet Penury keeps aloof ; nor, lacked I more, More wouldst thou me deny : Widening my means by narrowing my desires, I shall have ampler margin for true riches Than if to Lydia adding Phrygian realms. Who covets much, much wants ; God gives most kindly giving just enough. ODE XVII. TO L. iELIUS LAMIA. This personage was the son of the L. JE. Lamia who supported Cioero in the suppression of the Catiline conspiracy, and appears during the civil wars to have espoused the party of Caesar. Horace's friend was consul A.D. 3 ; afterwards appointed by Tiberius governor of Syria, but not allowed to enter on the administration of the province. He became, a.d. 32, " Prsefectus Urbi," anff died the following year. Mitscherlich says : " His own good sense will easily show any well-bred gentleman (urbanum) that Horace here, in a well-bred, gentlemanlike way, offers himself as a guest; in plain words, hints that Lamia should ask him to dine." On which the commentator in Orelli observes, with much feeling asperity : " In the whole poem there is not a vestige of this sort of gentlemanlike good- breeding, if gentlemanlike good-breeding it be, which it is permitted vehe- mently to doubt." Evidently the commentator is an Italian. A gentleman of that country would certainly dispute the good-breeding of any friend offering to drop in at dinner. JSToble ^lius, whose house hath its rise in that Lamus From whom both the first and the later descendants (As attesting memorials* record) The great name of Lamia inherit, Thou canst trace back, indeed, to an absolute monarch, Holding sway, it is said, over Pormia's walled ramparts, And the waters of Liris, that flow Into grassy domains of Marica. To-morrow the east wind shall send us a tempest, Which — if true be the crow, that old seer of foul weather — Shall strew in the grove many leaves ; On the shore,t many profitless sea- weeds. *"Per memores— fastos." "Family records," not the "fasti con- sulares." — Macleane. t The shore of Minturna, on the borders of Latium and Campania, where [the nymph Marica was worshipped. BOOK III. — ODE XVIIT. 403 Wliilo thou canst, then, protect from the rains the dry faggots ; Spend to-morrow in resting th^^self and thy household ; Feast thy genius with wine — but not mixed j And do not forget a young porker. ODE XVIII. TO FAUNUS. Faunus was not a stationary dh-inity. He was sunposed to come in the spring, and depart after tlie celebration of Ms festiA'al m December. From "parvis alumnis " (translated *' young weanlings"), we may suppose this ode was Avrittcn in spring. — Macleane. Eitter denies that by "parvis alumnis" young animals are meant; and contends that the words refer to young plants, transferred from the nursery to fields or orchards. Eitter also dissents from the general interpretation, which I have followed, that " Veneris sodali " is to be coupled with " craterse." According to him, the companion of Yenus is Faunus, the lover of the Nymphs, and not the wine-bowl. Faunus, thou lover of coy nymphs who fly thee, Enter my bounds, and fields that slope to sunlight ; Enter them gently ; and depart, propitious To my young weanlings, If tender kid, when the year rounds, be offered ; If to the bowl, Venus's boon companion, Fail not libation due ! * — With ample incense Steams thine old altar, * " Si tener pleno cadit haedus anno, Larga nee desunt Veneris sodali Vina cratenc. Vetus ara multo Fumat odorc," &c. As I have here adopted a novelty in the punctuation, suggested by Slac- Icane, it is well to subjoin his reasons for the innovation. " I have not followed the usual punctuation, which makes 'fumat ' depend upon 'si,' with a comma at ' craters?,' and a period at ' odore.' Horace claims the protection of Faunus for his lambs in the spring on the ground of his duo observance of the rites of December, which he then goes on to describe. ' Pleno anno ' means at the end of the year when the Faunalia took place." Therefore the division in the poem at Avhich, after the invita- tion to Faunus in the spring, Horace passes on to describe the festival in the winter, is more intelligible, and far less abrupt, by commencing it with the Bacrifice on the altar. D D 2 40 i THE ODES OF HORACE. Loose strays the herd on grassy meads disporting, What time December's Nones bring back thy feast-day Blithe, o'er the fields, streams forth the idling hamlet, Freed — with its oxen. Fearless the lambs behold the wolf prowl near them ; The woodland strews its leaves before thy footstep ; And on his hard task-mistress Earth, exulting. Thrice stamps the delver ! * ODE XIX. TO TELEPHUS. — IN HONOUR OF MURENA's INSTALLATION IN THE COLLEGE OF AUGURS. A. Terentius Varro Murena, adopted by A. Terentius Vavro, whose name he took, according to custom, subdued the Salassi, an Alpine tribe, and divided their territory among Praetorian soldiers, who founded the town of Augusta, now Aosta. He was named Consul Suffectus for B.C. 23. In B.C. 22 he was involved in the conspiracy of Fannius Csepio against the life of Augustus, and, though his guilt seems doubtful, executed. This is the same person whom Horace addresses under the name Licinius, Book II. Ode X., "Eectius vives Licini," &c. The metre in the original is the second Asclepiadean ; but I have found it easier to preserve fidelity to the sense and spirit of the poem by employing one of the varieties of rhythm which I have appropriated to the Alcaic. You inform us how long after Inachus flourished Royal Codrus, who feared not to die for his country ; What noble descendants from ^acus sprung. What battles were fought under Ilion the sacred ; * " Gaudet invisam pepulisse fossor Terpede terram." « "'Fossor' is put generally, I imagine, for a labouring husbandman, who may be supposed to have no love for the earth that he digs for another." — Macleane. This triple stamp is a dancing measure, which is likened tc the anapaest, where two feet are short and one long. Macleane quotes Sir John Davies's poem (Orchestra) in explanation of this measure — " And still their feet an anapaest do sound," &c. But it is perhaps best understood by anyone who ha})pcns to have learned, in the old-fashioned hornpipe, tliat step familiarly called *' toe, heel, and cloe," — touching the ground lightly with the toe, next witli the heel, and then bringing down the whole sole of the foot with, a stamp. I have seen that step, or something veiy like it, performed in a village dance in the south of Italy. '^- BOOK III. — ODE XIX. 405 But you say not a word upon things more important — "What the price one must pay for a cask of old Chian ? Baths,'"" rooms — where and whose ? What the moment to thaw These frost-bitten limbs in the sunshine of supper ? Hillo, boy, there, a cup ! f Brim it full for the New Moon ! Hillo, boy, there, a cup ! Brim it full for the Midnight ! And, boy, there, a cup ! Brim it full — to the health Of him we would honour ! — Murena the Augur. Let the bowls be proportioned to three or nine measures, As each comrade likes best ; J the true poet will ever Suit his to the odd-numbered Muses, and quaff Thrice three in the rapture the Nine give to brim- mers. But the Grace, with her twin naked sisters, shuns quarrel, And to more than three measures refuses her sanction. Ho ! ho ! what a joy to go mad for a time ! Why on earth stops the breath of that fife Berecyn- thian? And pray, why is that harp so unsocially silent. And the lively Pandean pipe idly suspended ? Quick, roses — and more ! Let it rain with the rose ! There's nothing I hate like the hand of a niggard. * " Quis aquam temperet ignibus." Orelli considers tliis refers to the water to bo warmed for the baths ; Ritter, to the water to be wanned for admixture with wine. I have adopted the former interpretation, though I think it doubtful. ^ t " Here, in a kind of phantasy, the poet ti-ansports himself with Tele- pnus into the midst of the entertainment." — Orelli. X " Tribus aut novem Miscentur cyathis pocula commodis." " The ' cyathus ' was a ladle with which the drink was jpasscd from the mixing-bowl to the drinking-cup. The ladle was of certain capacity, and twelve *cyathi' went to the Sextarius. Horace says, in effect, 'Let the wine be mixed in the proportion of tlu-eo cyathi of wine to nine of water, or of nine of wine to three of water.' . . . ' Commodis,* ' fit and proper,' — 'cyathi,' that is, 'bumpers.'" — Macleane. The above seems the best and most intelligible interpretation of a passage in which, if con- jectures were cyathi, the commentators would have greatly exceeded the number allowed to the nine Muses. 4.06 THE ODES OF HORACE. Let the noise of our mirtli split the ears of old Lycus. He is envions-^onr riot shall gorge him with envy. The ears of our neighbour, his wife, let it reach. 'No wife could suit less the grey hairs of old Lycus.* Thee, Telephus, radiant with locks of thick cluster, Thee, with face like the star of the eve at its clearest, Budded Rhode is courting ; I too am on fire. But me Glycera keeps in the flames, burnin;^ slowly, t ODE XX.— Omitted. ODE XXI. TO MY CASK. This poem appears composed in honour of some occasion in which Horace entertained the famous L. Valerius Messala Corvinus. No man in that great age was more remarkable for the variety of his accomplishments than this Corvinus. Sprung from one of the greatest consular families, he espoused the senatorian party in the civil wars, and attached himself especially to Cassius. He held the third place in the command of the Re- publican army, and at Philippi turned Augustus's flank, stormed his camp, and nearly took him prisoner. Subsequently he made terms mth Antony, whom he left for Augustus, after Antony's league with Cleopatra— and at Actium commanded the centre of the fleet with great distinction. Besides his eminence as a commander and a statesman, he was conspicuous as an orator, a wit, a historian, and a grammarian. He also wrote poetry. — See Smith's Dictionary for fuller details of life, art. " Messala." * The graduated process of a drinking-bout is most naturally simulated in these verses. First stage, the amiable expansion of heart in the friendly toast — the toleration of different tastes ; — each man may drink as much as he Hkes. Secondly, the consciousness of getting drunk, and thinking it a fine thing; — joy to go mad. Thirdly, the craving for noise ;— let the band strike up. Fourthly, a desire for something cool ; — roses in ancient Eome — soda-water in modem England. Fifthlj^, the combative stage ; — aggressive insult to poor old Lycus. Sixthly, the maudlin stage, soft and tender ; compKmentary to Telephus, and confidingly pathetic as to his o^vn less fortunate love-affairs. f Commentators have endeavoured to create a puzzle even here, where the meaning appears very obvious. Ehode runs after you (petit), who are so handsome — Glycera does not run after me, but keeps me languish- ing; the sense is consistent with the tone, half envious, half sarcastic, with which the poet always speaks of Telephus, the typical beauty-man and lady-killer. BOOK III. — ODE XXI. 407 Coeval with me, born when Manlius was consul, Whatsoe'er the effects of thy life, while in action — Spleen or mirth, angry brawl or wild love, Or, gentle cask,* ready slumber-— Under what head soe'er there be entered account of f The grapes thou hast kept since in Massicus gathered, Thou art worth being roused on a day Of good fortune ; descend J for Corvinus Asking wines by age mellowed ! He will not neglect thee, All imbued though he be with Socratical maxims. Father Cato, full often, 'tis said, Warmed his virtue with wine undiluted. § Thou givest a soft-pricking spur to the sluggish, Makest gentle the harsh, and confiding the cautious. Chasing care from the brows of the wise, Thou unlockest their hearts to Ly8eus.|| Hope and nerve thou restorest to minds worn and harassed, Add'st the horn that exalts to the front of the beggar ; Fresh from thee he could face down a king. Fresh from thee, brave the charge of an army. Thee, shall Liber and Venus, if Venus come merry, And the Graces, reluctant their bond to dissever, And the living lights gaily prolong. Till the stars fly from Phoebus returning. * " Pia testa." The exact meaning of " pia " here has given rise to much critical disputation. Maclcane says he knows no better translation than Francis's "gentle cask," for the meaning is to be derived from its connec- tion with "facilem somnum.' Yonge adopts the same interpretation, " gentle, kindly," — observiug " it would be ' impia' if producing ' querelas, rixas,' " &c. I have translated "testa" cask, as a word familar to the English reader, but it here properly means the amphora, a vessel into which the wine was, as we should say, bottled. t " Quocunque nomine," "on whatever account." On the technical meaning of " nomen," signifying " an entry in an account," see Mr. Long's note on Cicero in Verr, 11, 1, 38. " ' Lectum,' which Forcellini interprets * selected,' rather applies to the gathering of the grape fiom which the wine was made. Massic wine was from Mons Massicus in Campania." — Macleane. X " Desconde " — i. e. descend from the place where it was kept (apotheca), in the upper part of the house. \S " Mero," wine xmdiluted. Il " lletegis Lyii^o." "The dative case, *to' Ly«}us, appears here to be employed rather than the ablative."— Okelli. 408 THE ODES OP HORACE. ODE XXII. VOTIVE INSCEIPTION TO DIANA. Nothing more need be said of this ode than that it is one of the votive inscriptions common among the ancients, and that a pine-tree would be very fittinglj dedicated to Diana. The attempts made to extract a story out of the occasion and the offering are preposterous. That which is chiefly noticeable in this and other poems by Horace, more or less similar, is the rare and admirable merit of terseness. The poet has sufficient reliance on himself to be sure that, however briefly and simply he expresses himself on a subject to which brevity and simplicity belong, his unmistakable mark will appear on the work. Guardian of monntain-peaks, and forests — ^Virgin, Goddess triformed — who, thrice invoked, benignly Dost hear young mothers in their hour of travail, And from death save them ; Thine be this pine which overhangs my villa, To which each closing year shall be devoted A youthful boar, of sidelong thrusts indulging Vain meditations. ODE XXIII. TO PHIDTLE. Jani and other commentators have supposed the Phidyle here addressed to be Horace's country housekeeper, and that Horace in this ode answers some complaint of hers that her master did not permit her to sacrifice in a manner sufficiently handsome. Orelli observes that Phidyle could not be Horace's servant, for she is represented as sacrificing according to her own choice and will. But this no servant could do : the act of sacrifice for the whole family belonged exclusively to the head of the establishment. The ode, if addressed to any individual at all — which it probably was not— Avould luive been addressed, therefore, to some mistress of a plain country household. If with each new-born moon thou lift to Heaven thy sup- pliant hands, If with some grains of frankincense, fresh corn, and flesh of swine, My rustic Phidyle, thy rites Appease thy simple Lares, BOOK III. — ODE XXIV. 409 Thy fruitful vines shall neither feel the south wind's poisoned breath,* Nor mildew blight to sterile dearth thy harvests in the ear, Nor appled autumn sicklied airs Infect thy tender weanlings. Let victims whose devoted blood shall tinge the Pontiff's axe Pasture on snow-clad Algidus, mid oak and ilex groves, Or, fattening fast on Alban meads, Grow ripe for pompous slaughter : f But not from thee thy homely gods ask hecatombs of sheep ; Content are they with what thou giv'st — content with rural crowns ; So twine thy humble rosemary wreath, And weave thy fragile myrtle. The costliest offering softens not the household gods, if wroth, More sure than a votive cake or grains of crackling salt. Provided that no sin pollute The hands which touch the altar. ODE XXIV. ON THE MONEY-SEEKING TENDENCIES OP THE AGE. This ode, like those with which Book lU, commences, appears written with a design to assist Augustus in the task of social reform after the con- elusion of the civil wars. Orelli ascribes the date to A.u.c. 725, 72G, Macleane to 728. It is more purely didactic than the first five odes of this book — that is to say, it has less of the genuine lyrical mode of treating moral subjects. If in that respect inferior to those odes — as regards the higher range of poetry in the abstract — it is inferior to no ode in elevation of sentiment. * " Pestilentem Africum," the sirocco.— Orelli. t The Hocks and herds that belonged to the College of Pontiffs were fed on Algidus and the meadows of Alba Longa. 4)10 THE ODES OP HORACE. Thougli, as the lord of treasures wliicli outshine The unrifled wealth of Araby and Indus, The piles on which reposed thy palaces, Filled up both oceans, Tuscan and Apulia ; * Yet if dire Fate her nails of adamant Into thy loftiest wood-tree once hath driven,f Thou shalt not banish terror from thy soul, Nor from the snares of death thy head deliver. Happier the Scythians, wont o'er townless wilds To shift the wains that are their nomad dwellings ; Or the rude Getce whose unmeted soil Yields its free sheaves and fruits to all in common ; J There each man toils but for his single year — ' Rests, and another takes his turn of labour ; There ev'n the step-dame, mild and harmless, gives To orphans motherless again the mother. No dowered she-despot rules her lord, nor trusts The wife's protection to the leman's splendour. § There, is the dower indeed magnificent ! Ancestral virtue, chastity unbroken, * In reference to tlie custom of building palaces out into the sea. Munro adopts the reading " publicum " for " Apuhcum." t " Si figit adamantines Summis verticibus dira Necessitas Clavos." Various attempts have been made to explain the obscurity of this metaplior. I have adopted Orelli's interpretation, which he considers to be decidedly proved the right one by an Etruscan painting — viz., that while the rich man is busied in casting out the moles and raising the height of liis palace, Destiny is seen driving her nails into the top of the building, as if saying to the master, " Hitherto, but no farther ; the fated end is come to thyself." Macleane, however, prefers tlie interpretation of a commentator in Cruquius, who takes " verticibus " for the human head, the most fatal place for a blow. There is no disputing about tastes ; but I confess I like this in- terpretation less than any. Whatever Fate is about to do with her ada- mantine nails, it seems necessary, for connection with the preceding lines, that she should fix her mark on the ambitious piles which the man is building — not on himself. And if she has driven her nails into his head, she might spare for that head the net or snare to which the poet refers in the line that follows. X The habits of the Suevi, as described by Caesar, Bell. Gall. IV. i., are here imputed, correctly or not, to the Getse. § " Nee nitido fidit adultero." Macleane follows Orelli in considering that this means that she does not trust to the influence of the adulterer to protect her from the anger of the husband. BOOK III. — ODE XXIV. 411 Shrinking with terror from all love save one ; Or death the only sentence for dishonour. Oh, whosoe'er would banish out of Rome Intestine rage and fratricidal slaughter, If he would have on reverent statues graved This holy title, "Father of his Country," Let him be bold enough to strike at vice, Curb what is now indomitable — Licence, And earn the praise of after time ! Alas ! Virtue we hate while seen alive ; when vanished. We seek her — but invidiously ; and right The virtue dead to wrong some virtue living.* But what avails the verbiage of complaint — To rail at guilt, yet punish not the guilty ? What without morals profit empty laws ? If nor that zone, which, as his ow^n enclosure, The Sun belts round with fires — nor that whose soil Is ice, the hard land bordering upon Boreas — Scare back the avarice of insatiate trade, And oceans are the conquests of the sailor ; If dread to encounter the supreme reproach Of poverty, ordains to do and suffer All things for profit, and desert as bare The difficult way that only mounts to virtue ? were we penitent, indeed, for sins,t How we should haste to cast gems, gauds, gold, useless Save as the raw material of all ill, Amid the shouts of multitudes applauding, * These lines are, perhaps too boldly, paraphrased from the original iu order to bring out more clearly the latent meaning, as suggested with pretty general acauicscence by iJacier and Sanadon ; viv. " tlie envious man has a certain pleasure in regretting the dead because he can thus -wrong or insult the living. t I adopt the punctuation of Dillenburgcr, Orelli, and Munro — viz., that the full stop is at " bene pcenitet."— Sec note in Orelli to lines 49, 50. 412 THE ODES OP HORACE. Into the vaults of Capitolian Jove ; Or that safe treasure-house — the nearest ocean ! To weed out avarice dig down to the root, And minds relaxed rebrace by rougher training. Look at yon high-born boy — he cannot ride ! Horseback too rude for him — the chase too dangerous ! Skilful and brave — to trundle a Greek hoop ; And break the laws which interdict the dice-box : * While his mean father with a perjured oath Swindles alike his partner and his hearth-guest, Spurred by one passion — how to scrape the pelf — His worthless self bequeaths an heir as worthless. The immoderate f riches grow, forsooth, and grow, But ne'er in growing can attain completion j An unknown something, ever absent still. Stints into want the unsufficing fortune. ODE XXV. HYMN TO BACCHUS. Of this ode Orelli says, that it belongs more properly than any other ode of Horace to the dithyrambic genus, any closer imitation of which was denied to the language and taste of the Komans, as savouring of aflfectation or bombast. Nowhere in Horace is there more of the true lyrical enthu- siasm : the picture of the Bacchante, astonished by the landscape stretched below her, is singularly beautiful. Dillenburger and Orelli conjecture the poem to have been written a.u.c. 725-726 ; Macleane thinks it may have * " Grajco trocho." This hoop, made of metal, was guided by a rod like our hoops nowadays. It seems to have been used in the thoroughfares, and by youths as well as mere children. The laws against gambling were stringent, and in Cicero's time it was an offence sufficiently serious for Cicero to make it a grave charge against M. Antony that he had pardoned a man condemned for gambling, as he was himself a habitual gambler. Juvenal says that the heir still in his infancy (bullatus) learnt the dice from his father. t"Improba9 divitia)." "Improbaj" has not here the sense of " dis- honest " or " iniquitous," as it is commonly translated ; it means, rather, "immoderate," "out of all proportion." Macleane rightly observes that " impi'obus " is one of the most difficult words to which to assign its proper meaning. It implies excess, and that excess must be expressed according to the subject described. BOOK III. — ODE XXV. 4lo been on the announcement of the taking of Alexandria, A.u.c. 724. It was evidently Avliile some new triumph of Caesar's was fresh in the mind of the poet and of the public. Whither, full of thee, Bacchus, Am I hurried by thy rapture, with a spirit strange pos- sessed ? Through what forests, through what caverns ? Underneath what haunted grottoes shall my voice be heard aloud, Pondering words to lift up Cessar To his rank 'mid starry orders, in the council-halls of Jove? for utterance largely sounding, Never yet through mouth of poet made the language of the world ! As the slumberless Bacchante From the lonely mountain-ridges, stricken still with wonder, sees Flash the waves of wintry Hebrus, Sparkle snows in Thracian lowlands, soar barbarian Rhodope, Such my rapture, wandering guideless,* Now where river-margents open, now where forest- shadows close. Lord of Naiads, lord of Maenads, Who with hands divinely strengthened, from the moun- tain heave the ash : Nothing little, nothing lowly, Nothing mortal, will I utter ! Oh, how perilously sweet 'Tis to follow thee, Lenoeus, Thee the god who wreathes his temples with the vine- leaf for his crown ! * " Ut milii dcvio Eipas et vacuum nemus Mirari libet." Some of the MSS. have " rupes" instead of "ripas," and that reading is adopted by Lambinus and Muretus. Dillenburgcr, Orelli, Maclcane, Munro, and Yonge agree in preferring *' ripas," as having the authority of the best MSS. Assuming this latter reading to be riglit, it renders more appropriate 414 THE ODES OF HORACE. ODE XXVI. VENUS. This ode has heen generally supposed to be \n'itten -when Horace had arrived at a time of life sufficiently advanced to retire from the service of the ladies, and Malherbe, the French poet, had it in his eye when, at the age of fifty, he made fare\