VOLUME XVIII POEMS OF SCHILLER il W'' i *H \ " To eveiy one she' gave a share'' I'hotogravure from the painting by A. Liczen-Mayer Poetical Wot'ks OF Friedrich Schiller .j^^^iKs^ Edited by Nathan Haskell Dole Boston ^ Francis A. Niccolls & Compan\' «^ Publishers lEtfttton ©c (3xmti Huxc This Edition is Limited to Two Hundred and Fifty Copies, of which this is copy No,..a.4 _... Copyright, tgoz By Francis A. Niccolls & Co Cnlonfal press Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. Boston. Mass. U S. A. SRLF URL pt Translator's Preface. I CLAIM no more for the following translations than that they are a tolerably faithful rendering of the original poems of Schiller. I have made no attempt to seize upon Schiller's supposed meaning and clothe it in language of my own. My object has been to reproduce not only Schiller's thoughts, but Schiller's method of describing those thoughts, as accurately as was consistent with a change of language and the exigencies of verse. Where Schiller used the Elegiac metre, that metre has been adhered to in the translation. It is true, indeed, that the technical accuracy and niceties of the Classic verse can never be attained in a modern tongue, but the English language rdapts itself at least as well to the Elegiac metre as does the German. It may be that there is no very large number of English persons who desire to read in their own lan- guage the foreign poetry of an age gone by ; but I entertain the hope and belief that there are many Germans who, in the course of their systematic study of English, may find it useful and agreeable to have at hand a faithful rendering into that language of the works of their own respected poet. E. P. Arnold - Forster. Cathedine, Burley - in - Whakfedale, July, 1901. Contents Hector and Andromache Amalia ... A Funeral Fantasie . Fantasie — To Laura Rapture — To Laura The Mystery of Reuiinis cence . The Infanticide Fortune and Wisdom Group from Tartarus Elysium . The Flowers . The Triumph of Love Hymn to Joy . Resiguation The Meeting . The Secret The Assignation Longing . Evening . The Ideals Mountain Song The Alpine Hunter . The Four Ages of the World ... The Maiden's Lament is'adowessian Death-La ment The Cranes of Ibycus Hero and Leander . Tlie Hostage . The Knight of Toggen- burg . . . . The Fight with the Dragon Naturalists and Transcen- dental Philosophers The Count of Hapsburg . PAGE 1 2 •-> o 6 8 9 11 15 16 16 17 19 25 29 32 33 34 30 37 38 41 44 47 48 49 55 64 ()9 72 80 81 PAGE The Ideal and the Actual Life .... 85 Parables and Riddles . 89 The Lay of the Bell . 91 Honour to Woman . . 104 The German Art . . 106 The Antiques at Paris . 107 Thekla . . . .107 The Maid of Orleans . 108 The Proverbs of Con- fucius .... 109 Breadth and Depth . .110 Votive Tablets . .111 Goodness and Greatness . 114 The Impulses . . .114 German Genius . .114 Theophania . . .115 Trifles . . . .115 The Moral Poet . . 115 The Philosophers . .116 The Homerides . .117 The Sublime Subject . 117 The Artifice . . .117 Immortality . . .117 Jeremiads . . .118 The Rivers . . .119 Pegasus in Harness . .120 To Goethe . . . 123 Verses Written in the Folio Album of a Learned Friend . . 125 The Journalists and Minos . . . .126 Laura at the Spinet . 129 To Laura . . .130 The Greatness of the World . . . .134 vu VUl CONTENTS Eletry on the Death of a Youth . Tlie Battle Friendship Rousseau The Fugitive . The Flowers . To Spriug To Minna The Diiiuity of Manhood To a Moralist . The Grim Count Fber hard of Wiirttemberi;- The Invincible Armada The Gods of Greece . A Celebrated Woman Lines Written in a Young Lady's Album The Artists The Pilgrim . The Youth at the Brook The Favour of the Mo- ment . Pnnch Song To My Friends Punch Song A Trooper's Song . The Feast of Victory The Lament of Ceres The Eleusinian Festival The Ring of Polycrates Cassandra The Diver The Walk to the Foundry The Glove The Veiled Image at Sais The Partition of t li e World . The Strange Maiden Parables and Riddles The Walk The Power of Song . Hope The Sower Tiie Merchant . Ulysses . Carthage ... The Knights of St. Johi German Honour Columbus PAGE 1.35 138 140 141 143 144 145 146 147 150 151 154 150 100 164 165 179 180 182 183 184 185 187 189 103 197 204 207 211 217 224 22() 229 230 231 235 244 245 246 246 246 247 247 248 248 Pompeii and Hercula- neum The Iliad . Zeus to Heracles The Antique to the North eru Wanderer The Minstrels of Old Time Nenia The Child at Play . The Sexes The Influence of Woman The Dance Fortune . Genius The Philosophical Egotist The Words of Faith The Words of Error Light and Warmth . The Guides of Life . Archimedes and th Scholar Human Knowledge . Honours . The Two Paths of Virtue Zenith and Nadir Ideal Freedom . The Child in the Cradle The Unchangeable . Votive Tablets The Best Form of Govern meut To Legislators . The Worthy . A P'alse Impulse to Study Rejuvenescence The Circle of Nature The Genius with the In verted Torch The Virtue of Woman Beauty at its Best . The Forum of Woman Feminine Judgment The Feminine Ideal Hope and Fulfilment The Conmiou Lot Human Performance The Father Love and Desire Trifles Germany and Her Princes PAGE 249 251 252 252 252 253 254 254 256 256 258 261 263 264 265 266 267 267 268 268 269 269 269 269 269 270 276 276 276 276 276 277 277 277 277 277 278 278 278 279 279 279 279 279 280 CONTENTS IX To Proselytisers The (Joimectiug Link The Mouieut . Geruuiu Comedy A Bookseller's Advertise- uieut Daugerous Consequences The Greek Spirit Children of the Sabbath The Philosophers G..G. A T'rick . Knowledge Kant and His Interpreters Shakespeare's Ghost The Rivers The Metaphysician . The Worldly Wise . PAGE 280 280 281 281 281 281 281 282 28-i 284 284 284 284 287 288 288 PAGE The Puppet-Show of Life 21)0 To a Young Friend about to Take up Philosophy 291 The Poetry of Life . 292 To Mademoiselle Sle- voight .... 293 Greek Genius . 294 Lines Written in a PYieud's Album . 294 The Gift . 294 William Tell . 294 To the Hereditary Prince of Weimar . 295 The Beginning of the New Century 29(3 The Poet's Farewell 298 Semele .... 299 List of Illustrations PAGE "To EVERY ONE SHE GAVE A SHARE " {See pttQC SSI) Frontispiece "Blushing, he glides where'er she moves" "And Concordia we will name her" "Forth I went afar to roam" "One cry of horror from all — he dives". "'His case is settled,' they replied". 93 103 179 213 223 Poems of Schiller Poems of Schiller POEMS OF THE FIRST PERIOD. HECTOE AND ANDROMACHE. [This and the following poem are, with some alterations, intro- duced in the play of "The Robbers."] ANDROMACHE. Will Hector leave me for the fatal plain, Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus slain, Stalks Peleus' ruthless son ? Who, when thou glidest 'mid the dark abodes. To hurl the spear and to revere the gods. Shall teach thine orphan one ? HECTOR. Woman and wife beloved — cease thy 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 mv fatherland ! POEMS OF SCHILLER ANDROMACHE. No more I hear thy martial footsteps fall — Thine arms shall hang, dull trophies, on the wall — Fallen the stem of Troy ! Thou goest where slow Cocytus wanders — where Love sinks in Lethe, and the sunless air Is dark to light and joy ! HECTOR. Longing and thouglit — yes, 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 ! Gird on my sword. — Beloved one, dry the tear — Lethe for love is not ! AMALIA. Angel - fair, Walhalla's charms displaying, Fairer than all mortal youths was he ; Mild his look, as May-day sunbeams straying Gently o'er the blue and glassy sea. And his kisses ! — what ecstatic feeling ! Like two flames that lovingly entwine, Like the harp's soft tones together stealing Into one sweet harmony divine, — * Soul and soul embraced, commingled, blended. Lips and cheeks with trembling passion burned, Heaven and earth, in pristine chaos ended, Eound the blissful lovers madly turn'd. POEMS OF SCHILLER He is gone — and, ah ! with bitter anguish Vainly now I breathe my mournful sighs ; He is gone — in hopeless grief I languish, Earthly joys I ne'er again can prize ! A FUNEEAL FANTASIE. 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 ! 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. With dim, deep-sunken eye, Crutched on his staff, who trembles tottering by ? As wrung from out the shattered heart, one groan Breaks the deep hush alone ! Crushed by the iron fate, he seems to gather All life's last strength to stagger to the bier. And hearken — Do these cold lips murmur " Father ? " The sharp rain, drizzling through that place of fear, Pierces the bones gnawed fleshless by despair, And the heart's horror stirs the silver hair. Fresh bleed the fiery wounds Through all that agonising heart undone — Still on the voiceless lips " my Father " sounds. And still the childless Father murmurs " Son ! j> 4 ' POEMS OF SCHILLER Ice-cold — ice-cold, in that white shroud he lies — Thy sweet and golden dreams all vanished there — The sweet and golden name of " Father " dies Into thy curse, — ice-cold — ice-cold — he lies ! Dead, what thy life's dehght and Eden were ! Mild, as when, fresh from the arms of Aurora, While the air like Elysium is smiling above, Steeped 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 mirrored the smile of his face ; Dehght, like a flame, kindled up at his kiss, And the heart of the maid was the prey of his chase. 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 unfurled. Swept 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 ; That throws to the wind the wild stream of its mane, Strode he forth by the prince and the slave ! Life like a spring day, serene and divine, In the star of the morning went by as a trance ; His murmurs he drowned in the gold of the wine. And his sorrows were borne on the wave of the dance. Worlds lay concealed 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 ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 5 Not to be was that manhood ! — The death-bell is knelling, The hinge of the death-vault creaks harsh on the ears — How 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, Eise, 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. Again (in that thought what a heahng is found !) To meet in the Eden to which thou art fled ! — Hark, the coffin sinks down with a dull, sullen 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 ; Higher and higher swells the sullen mound — Never gives back the grave ! POEMS OF SCHILLER FANTASIE — TO LAURA. Name, my Laura, name the whirl-compelling Bodies to unite in one blest whole — Name, my Laura, name the wondrous magic By which soul rejoins its kindred soul ! See ! it teaches yonder roving planets Eound the sun to fly in endless race ; And as children play around their mother, Checkered circles round the orb to trace. Every rolling star, by thirst tormented. Drinks with joy its bright and golden rain — Drinks refreshment from its fiery chalice. As the limbs are nourished by the brain. 'Tis through Love that atom pairs with atom, In a harmony eternal, sure ; And 'tis Love that Hnks the spheres together — Through her only, systems can endure. Were she but effaced from Nature's clockwork. Into dust would fly the mighty world ; O'er thy systems thou wouldst weep, great Newton, When with giant force to chaos hurled ! Blot the goddess from tlie spirit order, It would sink in death and ne'er arise. Were love absent, spring would glad us never ; Were love absent, none their God would prize ! What is that, which, when my Laura kisses, Dyes my cheek with flames of purple hue. Bids my bosom bound with swifter motion. Like a fever wild my veins runs through ? POEMS OF SCHILLER Every nerve from out its barriers rises, O'er its banks, the blood begins to flow ; Body seeks to join itself to body, Spirits kindle in one blissful glow. Powerful as in the dead creations That eternal impulses obey, O'er the web Arachne-like of Nature, Living Nature, — Love exerts her sway. Laura, see how joyousness embraces E'en the overflow of sorrows wild ! How e'en rigid desperation kindles On the loving breast of Hope so mild. Sisterly and blissful rapture softens Gloomy Melancholy's fearful night, And, dehver'd of its golden children, Lo, the eye pours forth its radiance bright ! Does not awful Sympathy rule over E'en the realms that Evil calls its own ? For it's Hell our crimes are ever wooing. While they bear a grudge 'gainst Heaven alone Shame, Repentance, pair Eumenides-like, Weave round sin their fearful serpent-coils : While around the eagle-wings of Greatness Treach'rous danger winds its dreaded toils. ^o Ruin oft with Pride is wont to trifle, Envy upon Fortune loves to cliug ; On her brother. Death, with arms extended, Lust, his sister, oft is wont to spring. On the wings of Love the future hastens In the arms of ages past to lie ; 8 POEMS OF SCHILLER And Saturnus, as he onward speeds him, Long hath sought his bride — Eternity Soon Saturnus will his bride discover, — So the mighty oracle hatli said ; Blazing worlds will turn to marriage torches When Eternity with Time shall wed ! Then a fairer, far more beauteous morning, Laura, on our love shall also shine, Long as their blest bridal-night enduring : — So rejoice thee, Laura — Laura mine ! KAPTUEE— TO LAUKA. From earth I seem to wing my flight, And sun myself in Heaven's pure light, When thy sweet gaze meets mine. I dream I quaff ethereal dew, When my own form I mirrored view In those blue eyes divine ! Blest notes from Paradise afar, Or strains from some benignant star Enchant my ravished ear : My Muse feels then the shepherd's hour When silvery tones of magic power Escape those lips so dear ! Young Loves around thee fan their wings — Behind, the maddened fir-tree springs, As when by Orpheus fired : The poles whirl round with swifter motion, When in the dance, like waves o'er Ocean, Thy footsteps float untired! POEMS OF SCHILLER Thy look, if it but beam with love, Could make the lifeless marble move, Aud hearts in rocks enshrine : My visions to reality Will turn, if, Laura, in thine eye I read — that thou art mine ! THE MYSTERY OF REMINISCENCE. TO LAUKA. Who and what gave to me the wish to woo thee- Still, hp to lip, to cHng for aye unto thee ? Who made thy glances to my soul the link — Who bade me burn thy very breath to drink — My hfe in thine to sink ? As from the 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 link 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 ? lo POEMS OF SCHILLER Yes, it is so ! — And thou wert bound to me In the loug-vauish'd Eld eternally ! In the dark troubled tablets which enroll The Past — my Muse beheld this blessed scroU — " One with thy love my soul ! " Oh, yes, I learned in awe, when gazing there, How once one bright inseparate hfe we were, How once, one glorious essence as a God, Unmeasured space our chainless footsteps trod — All Nature our abode ! Eound us, in waters of delight, for ever Voluptuous flowed the heavenly Nectar river ; We were the master of the seal of things, And where the sunshine bathed Truth's mountain- springs Quivered our glancing wings. Weep for the godlike Hfe we lost afar — "Weep ! — thou and I its scattered fragments are ; And still the unconquered 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 hp, 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. So, when to life's unguarded fort, I see Thy gaze draw near and near triumphantly — Yieldeth my soul to thee ! POEMS OF SCHILLER • ll Therefore my soul doth from its lord depart, BecaiLse, 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 — though exiles from the homeward hill — One hf e — all glowing still ! THE INFANTICIDE. Hark where the bells toll, chiming, dull and steady ; The clock's slow hand hath reached 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 ! Farewell, ye suns that once to joy invited, Changed for the mould beneath the funeral sliade ; 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. Swanlike the robe which innocence bestowing, Decked with the virgin favours, rosy fair. 12 • POEMS OF SCHILLER In the gay time when many a young rose glowing, Blushed thruugli the loose train of the amber hair. Woe, woe ! as white the robe that decks me now — The shroud-like robe hell's destined victim wears ; Still shall the fillet bind this burning brow — Tliat sable braid the Doomsman's hand prepares ! Weep ye, ^v^lo 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 ^ doomed to be ; Woe — for the false man's arm around me steahng. Stole the lulled virtue, charmed 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 the kiss her lip enamoured brings, When the dread block the head he cradled presses, And high the blood his kiss once fevered springs. Thee, Francis, Francis,^ 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. On thy fresh lemau's lips when love is dawning, And the lisped music glides from that sweet well — Lo, in that breast a red wound shall be yawning. And, in the midst of rapture, warn of hell ! 1 "Und Empfindung soil mein Richtschwert seyn." A line of great vigour in the original, but which, if literally translated, would seem extravagant in English. 2 Joseph, in the original. POEMS OF SCHILLER 13 Betrayer, 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 ! Proud flew the sails — receding from the land, I watched them waning from the wistful eye, Eound the gay maids on Seine's voluptuous strand, Breathes the false incense of his fatal sigh. And there the babe ! there, on the mother's bosom, Lulled 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 softening love and the despairing madness. " Woman, where is my father ? " — freezing through me. Lisped the mute innocence with thunder-sound ; "Woman, where is thy husband?" — called unto me, In every look, word, whisper, busying round ! Alas, for thee there is no father's kiss ; — He fondleth other children on his knee. How thou wilt curse our momentary bliss, When bastard on thy name shall branded be ! 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. In every infant cry my soul is barkening. The haunting happiness for ever o'er, And all the bitterness of death is darkening The heavenly looks that smiled mine eyes before. 14 POEMS OF SCHILLER Hell, if my sight those looks a moment misses — Hell, when my sight upon those looks is turned — The avenging furies madden in thy kisses, That slept in his what time my lips they burned. Out from their graves his oaths spoke back in thunder ! The perjury stalked like murder in the sun — For ever — God! — sense, reason, soul, sunk under — The deed was done ! 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 ! 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 — Hark, 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 ! Francis — a God that pardons dwells in heaven — Francis, the sinner — yes — she pardons thee — POEMS OF SCHILLER 15 So let my wrongs unto the earth be given : Flame seize the wood ! — it burns — it kindles — see! There — there his letters cast — behold are ashes — His vows — the conquering fire consumes them here: His kisses — see — see — all are only ashes — All, all — the all that once on earth were dear ! 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 ! FORTUNE AND WISDOM. Enkaged against a quondam friend, To Wisdom once proud Fortune said : " I'll give thee treasures without end, If thou wilt be my friend instead. " My choicest gifts to him I gave. And ever blessed him with my smile ; And yet he ceases not to crave, And calls me niggard all the while. " Come, sister, let us friendship vow ! So take the money, nothing loth ; Why always labour at the plough ? Here is enough I'm sure for both ! " l6 POEMS OF SCHILLER Sage Wisdom laughed — the prudent elf! — Aud wiped her brow, with moisture hot : "There ruus thy friend to haug himself, — Be reconciled — I need thee not ! " GEOUr FROM TARTARUS. Hark ! like the sea in wrath the heavens assailing. Or like a brook through rocky basin wailing. Comes from below, in groaning agony, A heavy, vacant torment-breathing sigh ! Their faces marks of bitter torture wear, While from their lips burst curses of despair ; Their eyes are hollow, and full of woe, And their looks with heartfelt anguish Seek Cocytus' stream that runs wailing below, For the bridge o'er its waters they languish. And they say to each other in accents of fear, " Oh, when will the time of fulfilment appear ? " High over them boundless eternity quivers, And the scythe of Saturnus ail-ruthlessly shivers ! ELYSIUM. Past the despairing wail — And the 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 jocunti meads, His merry west-winds blithely leads The ever-blooming May ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 17 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, Lulled 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 streamed 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 enamelled couch of summer-plains Mingles sweet kisses with the zephyr's breath. Here, crowned at last, love never knows decay, Living through ages its one bridal day. Safe from the stroke of death ! THE FLOWERS. Ye offspring of the mornmg sun, Ye flowers that deck the smihng plain, Your lives, in joy and bliss begun, In Nature's love unchanged remain. l8 , POEMS OF SCHILLER With hues of bright and godhke splendour Sweet Flora graced your forms so tender, And clothed ye in a garb of hght ; Spring's lovely children weep for ever, For hving souls she gave ye never, And ye must dwell in endless night ? The nightingale and lark still sing In your tranced ears the bliss of love : The toying sylphs, on airy wing, Around your fragrant bosoms rove. Of yore, Dione's daughter ^ twining In garlands sweet your cup so shining, A pillow formed where love might rest ! Spring's gentle children, mourn for ever, The joys of love she gave ye never. Ne'er let ye know that feeling blest ! But when ye're gathered by my hand, A token of my love to be, Now that her mother's harsh command From Nanny's ^ sight has banished me — E'en from that passing touch ye borrow Those heralds mute of pleasing sorrow, Life, language, hearts and souls divine ; And to your silent leaves 'tis given, By Him who mightiest is in heaven. His glorious Godhead to enshrine. 1 Venus. 2 Originally Laura, this having been one of the " Laura-Poems," as the Germans call them, of which so many appeared in the An- thology (see Preface). English readers will probably not think that the change is for the better. POEMS OF SCHILLER i^ THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. A HYMN. By love are blest the gods on high, Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given ; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine ' With hues more radiant, more divine. And turns dull earth to heaven ! In Pyrrha's rear (so poets sang In ages past and gone), The world from rocky fragments sprang — Mankind from lifeless stone. Their soul was but a thing of night, Like stone and rock their heart ; The flaming torch of heaven so bright Its glow could ne'er impart. Young loves, all gently hovering round. Their souls as yet had never bound In soft and rosy chains ; No feeling muse had sought to raise Their bosoms with ennobling lays. Or sweet, harmonious strains. Around each other lovingly No garlands then entwined ; The sorrowing springs fled toward the sky. And left the earth behind. From out the sea Aurora rose With none to hail her then ; 20 POEMS OF SCHILLER The sun unbailed, at daylight's close, In ocean sank again. In forests wild, man went astray, Misled by Luna's cloudy ray — He bore an iron yoke ; He pined not for the stars on high, With yearning for a deity No tears in torrents broke. But see ! from out the deep-blue ocean Fair Venus springs with gentle motion : The graceful Naiad's smiling band Conveys her to the gladdened strand. A May-like, youthful, magic power Entwines, like morning's twilight hour. Around that form of godlike birth, The charms of air, sea, heaven, and earth. The day's sweet eye begms to bloom Across the forest's midnight gloom ; Narcissuses, their balm distilhng, The path her footstep treads are filling. A song of love, sweet Philomel Soon carolled through the grove ; The streamlet, as it murmuring fell, Discoursed of nought but love. Pygmalion ! Happy one ! Behold ! Life's glow pervades thy marble cold ! Oh, Love, thou conqueror all-divine, Embrace each happy child of thine ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 21 By love are blest the gods on high, — Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given ; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven ! The gods their days for ever spend In banquets bright that have no end, — In one voluptuous morning-dream, And quaff the nectar's golden stream. Enthroned in awful majesty KronTon wields the bolt on high : In abject fear Olympus rocks When wrathfully he shakes his locks. To other gods he leaves his throne. And fills, disguised as earth's frail son, The grove with mournful numbers ; The thunders rest beneath his feet, And lulled by Leda's kisses sweet, The Giant-Slayer slumbers. Through the boundless realms of light Phoebus' golden reins, so bright. Guide his horses white as snow. While his darts lay nations low. But when love and harmony Fill his breast, how willingly Ceases Phoebus then to heed Eatthng dart and snow-white steed ! See ! Before KronTon 's spouse Every great immortal bows ; 422 POEMS OF SCHILLER Proudly soar the peacock pair As her chariot throne they bear, While she decks with crown of might Her ambrosial tresses bright. Beauteous princess, ah ! with fear Quakes before thy splendour, love, Seeking, as he ventures near, With his power thy breast to move ! Soon from her immortal throne Heaven's great queen must fain descend, And in prayer for beauty's zone. To the heart-euchainer bend ! By love are blest the gods on high, Erail man becomes a deity When love to him is given ; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine With hues more radiant, more divine. And turns dull earth to heaven ! 'Tis love illumes the realms of night, For Orcus dark obeys his might. And bows before his magic spell : All-kindly looks the king of hell At Ceres' daughter's smile so bright, — Yes — love illumes the realms of night ! In hell were heard, with heavenly sound. Holding in chains its warder bound. Thy lays, Thracian one ! A gentler doom dread Minos passed, While down his cheeks the tears coursed fast POEMS OF SCHILLER 23 And e'en around Megiera's face The serpents twined in fond embrace. The lashes' work seemed done. Driven by Orpheus' lyre away, The vulture left his giant-prey ; ^ With gentler motion rolled along Dark Lethe and Cocytus' river, Enraptured Thracian, by thy song, — And love its burden was for ever ! By love are blest the gods on high, Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given ; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine With hues more radiant, more divine, And turns dull earth to heaven ! Wherever Nature's sway extends, The fragrant balm of love descends, His golden pinions quiver ; If 'twere not Venus' eye that gleams Upon me in the moon's soft beams, In sunlit hill or river, — If 'twere not Venus smiles on me From yonder bright and starry sea, Not stars, not sun, not moonbeams sweet. Could make my heart with rapture beat. 'Tis love alone that smilingly Peers forth from Nature's blissful eye. As from a mirror ever ! 1 Tityus. 24 POEMS OF SCHILLER Love bids the silvery streamlet roll More gently as it sighs along, And breathes a hving, feeling soul In Philomel's sweet plaintive song ; 'Tis love alone that fills the air With streams from Nature's lute so fair. Thou wisdom with the glance of fire, Thou mighty goddess, now retire, Love's power thou now must feel ! To victor proud, to monarch high. Thou ne'er has knelt in slavery, — To love thou now must kneel ! Who taught thee boldly how to climb The steep, but starry path sublime, And reach the seats immortal ? Who rent the mystic veil in twain, And showed thee the Elysian plain Beyond death's gloomy portal ? If love had beckoned not from high. Had we gained immortality ? If love had not inflamed each thought, Had we the master spirit sought ? 'Tis love that guides the soul along To Nature's Father's heavenly throne ! By love are blest the gods on high. Frail man becomes a deity When love to him is given ; 'Tis love that makes the heavens shine With hues more radiant, more divine. And turns dull earth to heaven ! POEMS OF SCHILLER «$ POEMS OF THE SECOND PERIOD. HYMN TO JOY. Joy, thou goddess, fair, immortal, Offspring of Elysium, Mad with rapture, to the portal Of thy holy fame we come ! Fashion's laws, indeed, may sever, But thy magic joins again ; All mankind are brethren ever 'Neath thy mild and gentle reign. CHORUS. Welcome, all ye myriad creatures ! Brethren, take the kiss of love ! Yes, the starry realms above Hide a Father's smiling features ! He, that noble prize possessing — He that boasts a friend that's true, He whom woman's love is blessing. Let him join the chorus too ! Aye, and he who but one spirit On this earth can call his own ! — He who no such bliss can merit, Let him mourn his fate alone ! CHORUS. All who Nature's tribes are swelling Homage pay to Sympathy ; For she guides us up on high, Where the unknown has his dwelling. 26 POEMS OF SCHILLER From the breasts of kindly Nature All of joy imbibe the dew ; Good aud bad alike, each creature Would her roseate path pursue. 'Tis through her the wine-cup maddens, Love and friends to man she gives ! Bhss the meanest reptile gladdens, — Near God's throne the cherub lives ! CHORUS. Bow before him, all creation ! Mortals, own the god of love ! Seek him high the stars above, — Yonder is his habitation ! Joy, in Nature's wide dominion, Mightiest cause of all is found ; And 'tis joy that moves the pinion, When the wheel of time goes round ; From the bud she lures the flower, — Suns from out their orbs of light ; Distant spheres obey her power. Far beyond all mortal sight. CHORUS. As through heaven's expanse so glorious In their orbits suns roll on, Brethren, thus your proud race run, Glad as warriors all-victorious ! Joy from truth's own glass of fire Sweetly on the searcher smiles ; Lest on virtue's steeps he tire, Joy the tedious path beguiles. POEMS OF SCHILLER 27 High on faith's bright hill before us, See her banner proudly wave ! Joy, too, swells the angels' chorus, — Bursts the bondage of the grave ! CHORUS. Mortals, meekly wait for heaven, Suffer on in patient love ! In the starry realms above, Bright rewards by God are given. To the gods we ne'er can render Praise for every good they grant ; Let us, with devotion tender, Minister to grief and want. Quenched be hate and wrath for ever, Pardoned be our mortal foe — May our tears upbraid him never, No repentance bring him low ! CHORUS. Sense of wrongs forget to treasure — Brethren, live in perfect love ! In the starry realms above, God will mete as we may measure. Joy wdthin the goblet flushes. For the golden nectar, wine, Every fierce emotion hushes, — Fills the breast with fire divine. Brethren, thus in rapture meeting. Send ye round the brimming cup, — Yonder kindly spirit greeting, While the foam to heaven mounts up ! 28 POEMS OF SCHILLER CHORUS. He whom seraphs worship ever, Whom the stars praise as they roll, Yes — to him now drain the bowl — Mortal eye can see him never ! Courage, ne'er by sorrow broken ! Aid where tears of virtue flow ; Faith to keep each promise spoken ! Trutli alike to friend and foe ! 'Neath kings' frowns a manly spirit ! — Brethren, noble is the prize — Honour due to every merit ! Death to all the brood of lies ! CHORUS. Draw the sacred circle closer ! By this bright wine plight your troth To be faithful to your oath ! Swear it by the Star-Disposer ! Safety from the tyrant's power ! Mercy e'en to traitors base ! Hope in death's last solemn hour ! Pardon when before His face ! Lo, the dead shall rise to heaven ! Brethren hail the blest decree ; Every sin shall be forgiven, Hell for ever cease to be ! CHORUS. When the golden bowl is broken. Gentle sleep within the tomb ! Brethren, may a gracious doom By the Judge of man be spoken ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 29 EESIGNATIOK Yes ! even I was in Arcadia born, And, in mine infant ears, A vow of rapture was by Nature sworn ; Yes ! even I was in Arcadia born, . And yet my short spring gave me only — tears ! Once blooms, and only once, life's youthful May ; For me its bloom hath gone. The silent God — brethren, weep to-day — The silent God hath quenched my torch's ray. And the vain dream hath flown. Upon thy darksome bridge. Eternity, I stand e'en now, dread thought ! Take, then, these joy-credentials back from me ! Unopened I return them now to thee, Of happiness, alas, know nought ! Before Thy throne my mournful cries I vent. Thou Judge, concealed from view ! To yonder star a joyous saying went : With judgment's scales to rule us thou art sent, And call'st thyself Eequiter, too ! Here, — say they, — terrors on the bad alight, And joys to greet the virtuous spring. The bosom's windings thou'lt expose to sight, Riddle of Providence wilt solve aright. And reckon with the suffering ! Here to the exile be a home outspread, Here end the meek man's thorny path of strife ! A godlike child, whose name was Truth, they said. 30 POEMS OF SCHILLER Known but to few, from whom the many fled, Restrained the ardent bridle of my hfe. " It shall be thine another life to live, — Thy youth to me surrender ! To thee this surety only can I give" — I took the surety in that life to live ; And gave to her each youthful joy so tender. " Give me the woman precious to thy heart. Give up to me thy Laura ! Beyond the grave will usury pay the smart." — I wept aloud, and from my bleeding heart With resicfnation tore her. 'O' " The obHgation's drawn upon the dead ! " Thus laughed the world in scorn ; " The lying one, in league with despots dread, For truth, a phantom palmed on thee instead, Thou'lt be no more, when once this dream has gone ! " Shamelessly scoffed the mockers' serpent-band : " A dream that but prescription can admit Dost dread ? Where now thy God's protecting hand, (The sick world's Saviour with such cunning planned). Borrowed by human need of human wit ? " What future is't that graves to us reveal ? What the eternity of thy discourse ? Honoured because dark veils its form conceal, The giant-shadows of the awe we feel. Viewed in the hollow mirror of remorse ! " An image false of shapes of living mould, ( Time's very mummy, she ! ) Whom only Hope's sweet balm hath power to hold POEMS OF SCHILLER 31 Within the chambers of the grave so cold, — Thy fever calls this immortality ! " For empty hopes, — corruption gives the lie — Didst thou exchange what thou hadst surely done ? Six thousand years sped death in silence by, — » His corpse from out the grave e'er mounted high, That mention made of the Requiting One ? " I saw time fly to reach thy distant shore, I saw fair Nature he A shrivelled corpse behind him evermore, — No dead from out the grave then sought to soar Yet in that Oath divine still trusted I. My ev'ry joy to thee I've sacrificed, I throw me now before thy judgment throne ; The many's scorn with boldness I've despised, — Only thy gifts by me were ever prized, — I ask my wages now. Requiting One ! " With equal love I love each child of mine ! " A genius hid from sight exclaimed. " Two flowers," he cried, " ye mortals, mark the sign, — Two flowers to greet the Searcher wise entwine, — Hope and Enjoyment they are named. " Who of these flowers plucks one, let him ne'er yearn To touch the other sister's bloom. Let him enjoy, who has no faith ; eterne As earth, this truth ! — Abstain, who faith can learn ! The world's long story is the world's own doom. " Hope thou hast felt, — thy wages, then, are paid ; Thy faith 'twas formed the rapture pledged to thee. Thou might'st have of the wise inquiry made, — The minutes thou neglectest, as they fade, Are given back by no eternity ! " 32 POEMS OF SCHILLER POEMS OF THE THIRD PERIOD. THE MEETING. I SEE her still — by her fair train surrounded, The fairest of them all, she took her place ; Afar I stood, by her bright charms confounded, For, oh ! they dazzled with their heavenly grace. With awe my soul was filled — with bliss unbounded, While gazing on her softly radiant face ; But soon, as if upborne on wings of fire. My fingers 'gan to sweep the sounding lyre. The thoughts that rushed across me in that hour, The words I sang, I'd fain once more invoke ; Within, I felt a new-awakened power. That each emotion of my bosom spoke. My soul, long time enchained in sloth's dull bower, Through all its fetters now triumphant broke, And brought to light unknown, harmonious numbers, Which in its deepest depths, had lived in slumbers. And when the chords had ceased their gentle sighing, And when my soul rejoined its mortal frame, I looked upon her face and saw love vying. In every feature, with her maiden shame. And soon my ravished heart seemed heavenward flying. When her soft whisper o'er my senses came. The blissful seraphs' choral strains alone Can glad mine ear again with that sweet tone. Of that fond heart, which, pining silently. Ne'er ventures to express its feelings lowly, POEMS OF SCHILLER 23 The real and modest worth is known to me — 'Gainst cruel fate I'll guard its cause so holy. Most blest of all, the meek one's lot shall be — Love's flowers by love's own hand are gathered solely — The fairest prize to that fond heart is due, That feels it, and that beats responsive, too ! THE SECEET. She sought to breathe one word, but vainly ; Too many listeners were nigh ; And yet my timid glance read plainly The language of her speaking eye. Thy silent glades my footstep presses, Thou fair and leaf-embosomed grove ! Conceal within thy green recesses From mortal eye our sacred love ! Afar with strange discordant noises. The busy day is echoing ; And 'mid the hollow hum of voices, I hear the heavy hammer ring. 'Tis thus that man, with toil ne'er ending, Extorts from heaven his daily bread ; Yet oft unseen the gods are sending The gifts of fortune on his head ! Oh, let mankind discover never How true love fills with bliss our hearts 1 They would but crush our joy for ever, For joy to them no glow imparts. Thou ne'er wilt from the world obtain it — 'Tis never captured save as prey ; Thou needs must strain each nerve to gain it, E'er envy dark asserts her sway. 34 POEMS OF SCHILLER The hours of night and stilhiess loving, It comes upon us silently — Away with hasty footstep moving Soon as it sees a treacherous eye. Thou gentle stream, soft circlets weaving, A watery barrier cast around, And, with thy waves in anger heaving. Guard from each foe this holy ground ! THE ASSIGNATION. [Note. — In Schiller the eight long Hues that conclude each stanza of this charming love-poem, instead of rhyming alter- nately as in the translation, chime somewhat to the tune of Byron's " Don Juan " — six lines rhyming with each other, and the two last forming a separate couplet. In other respects the translation, it is hoped, is sufficiently close and literal.] 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. Hush ! what amidst the copses crept — So swiftly by me now ? No — 'twas the startled bird that swept The light leaves of the bough ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 35 Day, quench thy torch ! come, ghostlike, 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 hsteners none. The froward witness of the light will flee ; Hesper alone, the rosy silent one, Down-glancing may our sweet familiar be ! What murmur in the distance spoke, And like a whisper died ? No — 'twas the swan that gently broke In rings the silver tide ! Soft to my 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 ! Hark ! through the alley hear I now A footfall ? Comes the maiden ? No, — 'twas the fruit shd from the bough, With its own richness laden ! Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death, And pale and paler wane 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 silentlv ; Slides from each charm the slowly-loosening zone ; And round all beauty, veilless, roves the eye. 1 The peach. 36 POEMS OF SCHILLER What yonder seems to glimmer ? Her white robe's glaucing hues ? No, — 'twas the colunm's shimmer Athwart the darksome yews ! Oh, longing heart, no more delight-upbuoyed Let the sweet airy image thee befool ! The arms that would embrace her clasp the void : This feverish breast no phantom-bliss can cooL Oh, waft her here, the true, the living one ! Let but my hand her hand, the tender, feel — The very shadow of her robe alone ! — So into life the idle dream shall steal ! As ghde from heaven, when least we ween, The rosy hours of bliss, All gently came the maid, unseen : — He waked beneath her kiss ! LONGING. Could 1 from this valley drear, Where the mist hangs heavily, Soar to some more blissful sphere, Ah ! how happy should I be ! Distant hills enchant my sight. Ever young and ever fair ; To those hills I'd take my flight Had I wings to scale the air. Harmonies mine ear assail. Tunes that breathe a heavenly calm ; And the gently-sighing gale Greets me with its fragrant balm. POEMS OF SCHILLER 37 Peeping through the shady bowers, Golden fruits their charms display, And those sweetly-blooming flowers Ne'er become cold winter's prey. In yon endless sunshine bright, Oh ! what bliss 'twould be to dwell ! How the breeze on yonder height Must the heart with rapture swell ! Yet the stream that hems my path Checks me with its angry frown, While its waves, in rising wrath, Weigh my weary spirit down. See — a bark is drawing near, But, alas, the pilot fails ! Enter boldly — wherefore fear ? Inspiration fills its sails. Faith and courage make thine own, — Gods ne'er lend a helping hand ; 'Tis by magic power alone Thou canst reach the magic land ! EVENING. (after a picture.) Oh ! thou bright-beaming god, the plains are thirst- ing, Thirsting for freshening dew, and man is pining; Wearily move on thy horses — Let, then, tliy chariot descend ! 38 POEMS OF SCHILLER Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows, Lovingly nods and smiles ? — Thy heart must know her! Joyously speed on thy horses, — Tethys, the goddess, 'tis nods ! Swiftly from out his flaming chariot leaping, Into her arms he springs, — the reins takes Cupid, — Quietly stand the horses, Drinking the cooling flood. Now from the heavens with gentle step descending, Balmy night appears, by sweet love followed ; Mortals, rest ye, and love ye, — Phoebus, the loving one, rests ! THE IDEALS. And wilt thou, faithless one, then, leave me, With all thy magic phantasy, — With all the thoughts that joy or grieve me, Wilt thou with all for ever fly ? Can nought delay thine onward motion, Thou golden time of life's young dream ? In vain ! eternity's wide ocean Ceaselessly drowns thy rolhng stream. The glorious suns my youth enchanting Have set in never-ending night ; Those blest ideals now are wanting That swelled my heart with mad delight. The ofispring of my dream hath perished, My faith in being passed away ; The godlike hopes that once I cherished Are now reality's sad prey. POEMS OF SCHILLER 39 As once Pygmalion, fondly yearning, Embraced the statue formed by him, Till the cold marble's cheeks were burning, And life diffused through every limb, — So I, with youthful passion fired, My longing arms round Nature threw. Till, clinging to my breast inspired. She 'gan to breathe, to kindle too. And all my fiery ardour proving. Though mute, her tale she soon could tell, Eeturned each kiss I gave her loving, The throbbiugs of my heart read well. Then hving seemed each tree, each flower. Then sweetly sang the waterfall. And e'en the soulless in that hour Shared in the heavenly bhss of all. For then a circling world was bursting My bosom's narrow prison-cell. To enter into being thirsting. In deed, word, shape, and souud as well. This world, how wondrous great I deemed it, Ere yet its blossoms could unfold ! When open, oh, how little seemed it ! That little, oh, how mean and cold ! How happy, winged by courage daring. The youth life's mazy path first pressed — No care his manly strength impairing. And in his dream's sweet vision blest! The dimmest star in air's dominion Seemed not too distant for his flight ; His young and ever-eager pinion Soared far beyond all mortal sight. 40 POEMS OF SCHILLER Thus joyously toward heaven ascending, Was aught for his bright hopes too far ? The airy guides his steps attending, How danced they rouud hfe's radiant car! Soft Love was there, her guerdon bearing. And Fortune, with her crown of gold. And Fame, her starry chaplet wearing. And Truth, in majesty untold. But while the goal was yet before them, The faithless guides began to stray ; Impatience of their task came o'er them, Then one by one they dropped away. Light-footed Fortune first retreating, Then Wisdom's thirst remained unstilled, Wliile heavy storms of doubt were beathig Upon the path Truth's radiance filled. I saw Fame's sacred wreath adorning The brows of an unworthy crew ; And, ah ! how soon Love's happy morning. When spring had vanished, vanished too ! More silent yet, and yet more weary, Became the desert path I trod ; And even Hope a glimmer dreary Scarce cast upon the gloomy road. Of all that train, so bright with gladness, Oh, who is faithful to the end ? Who now will seek to cheer my sadness. And to the grave my steps attend ? Thou, Friendship, of all guides the fairest, Who gently healest every wound ; Who all life's heavy burden sharest. Thou, whom I early sought and found ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 41 Employment too, thy loving neighbour, Who quells the bosom's rising storms ; Who ne'er grows weary of her labour. And ne'er destroys, though slow she forms ; Who, though but grains of sand she places To swell eternity sublime, Yet minutes, days, ay ! years effaces From the dread reckoning kept by Time ! MOUNTAIN SONG. [The scenery of Gotthardt is here personified.] To the solemn abyss leads the terrible path, The life and death winding dizzy between ; In thy desolate way, 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 ! High over the marge of the horrible deep Hangs and hovers a bridge with its phantom-like span,2 Not by man was 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. 1 The avalanche — the equivoque of the original, turning on the Swiss word Lawine, here called Lowin, the lioness, it is impos- sible to make iutelligible 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 roarinLC stream. 2 The Devirs Bridge. The Land of Delight (called in " Tell "' " a serene valley of joy ") to which the dreary portal (in "Tell " the black rock gate) leads, is the Urse Vale. The four rivers, in the next stanza, are the Reus, the Rhine, the Tessiu, and the Rhone. 42 POEMS OF SCHILLER Black-yawning, a portal thy 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 *&^ sprmg 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 ever- more. High over the races of men in the blue Of the ether, the mount in twin summits is riven ; There, veiled 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 earth-born surveys. August on a throne which no ages can move. Sits a queen, in her beauty serene and sublime,^ The diadem blazing with diamonds above The glory of brows, never darkened by time ; His arrows of light on that form shoots the sun — And he gilds them with all, but he warms them with none ! 1 The everlasting glacier. See " William Tell," act v. scene 2. POEMS OF SCHILLER 43 THE ALPINE HUNTER. Wilt thou not the lambkios guard ? Oh, how soft and meek they look, Feeding on the grassy sward, Sporting round the silvery brook ! " Mother, mother, let me go On yon heights to chase the roe ! " Wilt thou not the flock compel With the horn's inspiring notes ? Sweet the echo of yon bell, As across the wood it floats ! " Mother, mother, let me go On yon heights to hunt the roe ! " Wilt thou not the flow'rets bind, SmiHng gently in their bed ? For no garden thou wilt find On yon heights so wild and dread. " Leave the flow'rets, — let them blow ! Mother, mother, let me go ! " And the youth then sought the chase. Onward pressed with headlong speed To the mountain's gloomiest place, — Nought his progress could impede ; And before him, like the wind. Swiftly flies the trembling hind. Up the naked precipice Clambers she, with footsteps light, O'er the chasm's dark abyss Leaps with spring of daring might ; But behind, unweariedly, With his death-bow follows he. 44 POEMS OF SCHILLER Now upon the rugged top Stands she, — on the loftiest height, Where the chfis abruptly stop, And the path is lost to sight. There she views the steeps below, — Close behind, her mortal foe. She, with silent, woeful gaze. Seeks the cruel boy to move ; But, alas ! in vain she prays — To the string he fits the groove. When from out the clefts, behold ! Steps the Mountain Genius old. With his hand the Deity Shields the beast that trembling sighs ; " Must thou, even up to me, Death and anguish send ? " he cries. — Earth has room for all to dwell, — " Why pursue my loved gazelle ? " THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD. The goblet is sparkling with purpled-tinged wuie, Bright ghstens the eye of each guest, When into the hall comes the Minstrel divine, To the good he now brings what is best ; For when from Elysium is absent the lyre, No joy can the banquet of nectar inspire. He is blessed by the gods with an intellect clear, That mirrors the world as it glides ; He has seen all that ever has taken place here. And all that the future still hides. He sat in the gods' secret councils of old And heard the command for each thing to unfold. POEMS OF SCHILLER 45 He opens in splendour, with gladness and mirth, That life which was hid from our eyes ; Adorns as a temple the dwelhng of earth, That the Muse has bestowed as his prize ; No roof is so humble, no hut is so low, But he with divinities bids it o'erflow. And as the inventive descendant of Zeus, On the unadorned round of the shield. With knowledge divine could, reflected, produce Earth, sea, and the stars' shining field, — So he, on the moments, as onward they roll, The image can stamp of the infinite whole. From the earUest age of the world he has come. When nations rejoiced in their prime ; A wanderer glad, he has still found a home With every race through all time. Four ages of man in his lifetime have died. And the place they once held by the fifth is supplied. Saturnus first governed, with fatherly smile, Each day then resembled the last ; Then flourished the shepherds, a race without guile — Their bliss by no care was o'ercast ; They loved, — and no other employment they had, And earth gave her treasures with willingness glad. Then labour came next, and the conflict began With monsters and beasts famed in song ; And heroes upstarted, as rulers of man, And the weak sought the aid of the strong. And strife o'er the field of Scamander now reigned. But Beauty the god of the world still remained. At length from the conflict bright victory sprang. And gentleness blossomed from might ; 46 POEMS OF SCHILLER In heavenly chorus the Muses then sang, And figures divine saw the hght ; — The age that acknowledged sweet phantasy's sway Can never return, it has fleeted away. The gods from their seats in the heavens were hurled. And their pillars of glory o'erthrown ; And the Son of the Virgin appeared in the world For the sins of mankind to atone. The fugitive lusts of the sense were suppressed. The man now first grappled with thought in his breast. Each vain and voluptuous charm vanished now, Wherein the young world took delight ; The monk and the nun made of penance a vow. And the tourney was sought by the knight. Though the aspect of life was now dreary and wild, Yet love remained ever both lovely and mild. An altar of holiness, free from all stain. The Muses in silence upreared"; And all that was noble and worthy, again In woman's chaste bosom appeared ; The bright flame of song was soon kindled anew By the minstrel's soft lays, and his love pure and true. And so, in a gentle and ne'er-changing band, Let woman and minstrel unite ; They weave and they fashion, with hand joined to hand. The girdle of beauty and right. When love blends with music, in unison sweet. The lustre of life's youthful days ne'er can fleet. POEMS OF SCHILLER 47 THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. The clouds fast gather, The forest-oaks roar — A maideu is sitting Beside the green shore, — The billows are breaking with might, with might, And she sighs aloud in the darkling night, Her eyelid heavy with weeping. " My heart's dead within me. The world is a void ; To the wish it gives nothing. Each hope is destroyed. I have tasted the fulness of bliss below I have lived, I have loved, — Thy child, oh, take now. Thou Holy One, into Thy keeping ! " " In vain is thy sorrow, In vain thy tears fall. For the dead from their slumbers They ne'er can recall ; Yet if aught can pour comfort and balm in thy heart. Now that love its sweet pleasures no more can impart. Speak thy wish, and thou granted shalt find it ' " 1 " Though in vain is my sorrow, Though in vain my tears fall, — Though the dead from their slumbers They ne'er can recall, Yet no balm is so sweet to the desolate heart. When love its soft pleasures no more can impart. As the torments that love leaves behind it ! " 48 POEMS OF SCHILLER NADOWESSIAN DEATH - LAMENT. See, he sitteth on his mat Sitteth there upright, With the grace with which he sat While he saw the hght. Where is uow the sturdy gripe, — Where the breath sedate, That so lately whiffed the pipe Toward the Spirit great ? Where the bright and falcon eye, That the reindeer's tread On the waving grass could spy. Thick with dewdrops spread ? Where the limbs that used to dart Swifter through the snow Than the twenty-membered hart, Thau the mountain roe ? Where the arm that sturdily Bent the deadly bow ? See, its life hath fleeted by, — See, it hangeth low ! Happy he ! — He now has gone Where no snow is found : Where with maize the fields are sown, Self-sprung from the ground ; Where with birds each bush is filled. Where with game the wood ; Where the fish, with joy unstilled, Wanton in the flood. POEMS OF SCHILLER 49 With the spirits blest he feeds, — Leaves us here in gloom ; We can only praise his deeds, And his corpse entomb. Farewell-gifts, then, hither bring, Sound the death-note sad ! Bury with him everything That can make him glad ! 'Neath liis head the hatchet hide That he boldly swung ; And the bear's fat haunch beside, For the road is long ; And the knife, well sharpened, That, with slashes three. Scalp and skin from foeman's head Tore off skilfully. And to paint his body, place Dyes within his hand ; Let him shine with ruddy grace In the spirit-land ! THE CEANES OF IBYCUS. A BALLAD. Once to the song and chariot-fight, Where all the tribes of Greece unite On Corinth's isthmus joyously, The god-loved Ibycus drew nigh. On him Apollo had bestowed The gift of song and strains inspired ; So, with hght staff, he took his road From Ehegium, by the godhead fired. 50 POEMS OF SCHILLER Acrocorinth, on mountain high, Now burns upon the wanderer's eye, And he begins, with pious dread, Poseidon's gi-ove of firs to tread. Nought moves around him, save a swarm Of cranes, who guide him on his way ; Wlio from far southern regions warm Have hither come in squadron gray. " Thou friendly band, all hail to thee ! Who led'st me safely o'er the sea ! I deem thee as a favouring sign, — My destiny resembles thine. Both come from a far distant coast. Both pray for some kind sheltering place ; Propitious toward us be the host Who from the stranger wards disgrace ! " And on he hastes, in joyous mood. And reaches soon the middle wood When, on a narrow bridge, by force Two murderers sudden bar his course. He must prepare him for the fray. But soon his wearied hand sinks low ; Inured the gentle lyre to play, It ne'er has strung the deadly bow. On gods and men for aid he cries, — No saviour to his prayer replies ; However far his voice he sends. Nought living to his cry attends. " And must I in a foreign land. Unwept, deserted, perish here. Falling beneath a murderous hand, Where no avenger can appear ? " POEMS OF SCHILLER 51 Deep-wounded, down he sinks at last, When, lo ! the cranes' wings rustle past. He hears, — though he no more can see, — Their voices screaming fearfully. " By you, ye cranes, that soar on high, If not another voice is heard, Be borne to heaven my murder-cry ! " He speaks, and dies, too, with the word. The naked corpse, ere long, is found, And, though defaced by many a wound, His host in Corinth soon could tell The features that he loved so well. •< And is it thus I find thee now, Who hoped the pine's victorious crown To place upon the singer's brow. Illumined by his bright renown ? " The news is heard with grief by aU Met at Poseidon's festival ; All Greece is conscious of the smart. He leaves a void in every heart ; And to the Prytauis ^ swift hie The people, and they urge him on The dead man's manes to pacify And with the murderer's blood atone. But where's the trace that from the throng, The people's streaming crowds among, Allured there by the sports so bright. Can bring the \'illain back to light ? By craven robbers was he slain ? Or by some envious hidden foe ? Tliat Hehos only can explain, Whose rays illume all things below. 1 President of Council of Five Hundred. 52 POEMS OF SCHILLER Perchance, with shameless step and proud, He threads e'en now the Grecian crowd — Whilst vengeance follows in pursuit. Gloats over his transgression's fruit. The very gods perchance he braves Upon the threshold of their fane, — Joins boldly in the human waves That haste yon theatre to gain. For there the Grecian tribes appear, Fast pouring in from far and near ; On close-packed benches sit they there, — The stage the weight can scarcely bear. Like ocean-billows' hollow roar, The teeming crowds of living man Toward the cerulean heavens upsoar, In bow of ever-widening span. Who knows the nation, who the name. Of all who there together came ? From Theseus' town, from Aulis' strand, From Phocis, from the Spartan land. From Asia's distant coast they wend, From every island of the sea, And from the stage they hear ascend The chorus's dread melody. Who, sad and solemn, as of old. With footsteps measured and controlled, Advancing from the far background, Circle the theatre's wide round ? Thus, mortal women never move ! No mortal liome to them gave birth ! Their giant-bodies tower above. High o'er the puny sons of earth. POEMS OF SCHILLER 53 With loins in mantle black concealed, Within their fleshless hands they wield The torch, tliat with a dull red glows, — Wliile in their cheek no life-blood flows ; And where the hair is floating wide And loving, round a mortal brow, Here snakes and adders are descried. Whose bellies swell with poison now. And, standing in a fearful ring, The dread and solemn chant they sing, That through the bosom thrilling goes, And round the sinner fetters throws. Sense-robbing, of heart-maddening power, The furies' strains resound through air ; The listener's marrow they devour, — The lyre can yield such numbers ne'er. " Happy the man who, blemish-free. Preserves a soul of purity ! Near him we ne'er avenging come. He freely o'er life's path may roam. But woe to him who, hid from view. Hath done the deed of murder base ' Upon his heels we close pursue, — We, who belong to night's dark race ! " And if he thinks to 'scape by flight. Winged we appear, our snare of might Around his flying feet to cast, So that he needs must fall at last. Thus we pursue him, tiring ne'er, — Our wrath repentance cannot quell, — On to the shadows, and e'en there We leave him not in peace to dwell ! " 54 POEMS OF SCHILLER Thus singing, they the dance resume, And silence, hke that of the tomb, O'er the whole house hes heavily, As if the Deity were nigh. And staid and solemn, as of old, Circling the theatre's wide round. With footsteps measured and controlled, They vanish in the far background. Between deceit and truth each breast Now doubting hangs, by awe possessed, And homage pays to that dread might, That judges what is hid from sight, — That, fathomless, inscrutable, The gloomy skein of fate entwines, That reads the bosom's depths full well. Yet flies away where sunlight shines. When sudden, from the tier most high, A voice is heard by all to cry ! " See there, see there, Timotheus ! Behold the cranes of Ibycus ! " The heavens became as black as night, And o'er the theatre they see, Far overhead, a dusky flight Of cranes, approaching hastily. " Of Ibycus ! " —That name so blest With new-born sorrow fills each breast. As waves on waves in ocean rise. From mouth to mouth it swiftly flies ! " Of Ibycus, whom we lament ? Who fell beneath the murderer's hand ? What mean those words that from him went ? What means this cranes' advancing band ? " POEMS OF SCHILLER 55 And louder still become the cries, And soon this thought foreboding flies Through every heart, with speed of light — " Observe in this the furies' might ! The poets manes are now appeased : The murderer seeks liis own arrest ! Let him who spoke the word be seized, And him to whom it was addressed!" That word he had no sooner spoke, Than he its sound would fain invoke ; In vain ! his mouth, with terror pale. Tells of his guilt the fearful tale. Before the judge they drag them now, The scene becomes the tribunal ; Their crimes the villains both avow, When 'neath the veugeance-stroke they fall. HEEO AND LEANDEPv. A BALLAD. [We have already seen in "The Ring of Polycrates," Schiller's mode of dealing with classical subjects. In the poems that i'ollow, derived from similar sources, the same spirit is maintained. In spite of Humboldt, we venture to think that Schiller certainly does not narrate Greek legends in the spirit of an ancient Greek. The Gothic sentiment, in its ethical depth and mournful tenderne.ss, more or less pervades all that he translates from classic fable into modern pathos. The grief of Hero, in the ballad subjoined, touches closely on the lamentations of Thekla, 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 founded, by the introduction of the ethical sentiment at the close, borrowed, as a modern would apply what he so borrows, from the moralising Horace. Nothing can be more foreign to the Hellenic genius (if we except the very disputable in- tention of the " rrometheus"), than the interior and typical design S6' POEMS OF SCHILLER which usually exalts every couception in Schiller. But it is per- fectly open to the modern poet to treat of ancient legends in the modern spirit. Tliough he selects a Greek story, he is still a modern who narrates — he can never make himself a Greek any more than ^^schylus in the " Perste " could make himself a Per- sian. But 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 must has its limits. Shakespeare's wonderful power of self- transfusion has no doubt enabled him, in his plays 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 CtBsar," or "Coriolanus," or "Antony and Cleopatra," The portraits may be Roman, but they are painted in the manner of the Gothic school. The spirit of antiquity is only in them, inasmuch as the representation of human nature, under certain circumstances, is accurately, though loosely, outlined. When the poet raises the dead, it is not to re- store, 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, cannot Eend 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 hunter'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. POEMS OF SCHILLER 57 Alone on Sestos' rocky tower, Where upward sent in stormy shower, The whirling waters foam, — 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 ; No boatman shoots from yonder shore, Yet Love has found the way. — That love, which could the labyrinth pierce — Which nerves the weak and curbs the fierce. And wings with wit the dull ; — That love which o'er the furrowed land Bowed — tame beneath young Jason's hand — The fiery-snorting bull ! Yes, Styx itself, that ninefold flows. Has love, the fearless, ventured o'er, And back to dayhght borne the bride, From Pluto'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 strikes 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, $8 POEMS OF SCHILLER 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. 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 are driven Upon the fearful shores of hell. Plucked fruits that taste of heaven ! Now changing in their season are, The morning and tlie 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 see, 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, 1 This notes the thne of year — not the time of day — viz., about the 23d of September. — Hoffmeisteb. POEMS OF SCHILLER 59 Lingers the girl with wistful eyes That watch the suu-steeds down the skies, Careering towards the deep. Lulled 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 : They — only they — have witnessed love 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 ghde. Dost safe my lover bear. 1 Hecate as the mysterious goddess of Nature. — Hoffmeister. 6o POEMS OF SCHILLER 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 gold, Bright Helle, with her brother bore, How stirred the waves she wandered o'er. How stirred 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 ! And still she smooths 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, goddess — guide my love Along the wonted way ! " Now twihght dims the waters' 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 eyes shall strain ? Hark ! sounds moan threatening from afar — From heaven the blessed stars are gone — More darkly swells the rising sea — The tempest labours on ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 6i Along the ocean's boundless plains Lies night — in torrents rush the rains From the dark -bosomed cloud — Ked 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 — " Have 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 refuge in the creek. " Ah, still that heart, which oft has braved The danger where the daring saved, Love lureth o'er the sea ; — For many a vow at parting morn. That nought but death should bar return, Breathed those dear lips to me ; And whirled 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 hailed, The awaiting murder darkly veiled — The lulled pellucid flow. 62 POEMS OF SCHILLER The smiles in which thou wert arrayed, Were but the snares that love betrayed To thy false realm below ! Now in the midway of the main, Eeturn relentlessly forbidden, Thou loosenest on the path beyond The horrors thou hadst liidden." 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 Unshattered by the shock. Dies in the blast the guiding torch To hght the straggler 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 vow — 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 ! " Hearken the anguish of my cries ! From thy green halls, arise — arise, Leucothoe the divine ! Who, in the barren main afar. Oft on the storm-beat mariner Dost gently-saving shine. POEMS OF SCHILLER 63 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 arched horizon, blushing, Day's chariot gleams on high ! Back to their wonted channels rolled, 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 ! 'Tis he ! — who even 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 ghde down her hueless cheeks ; Cold — numbed in her despair — She looked along the silent deep, She looked upon the brightening heaven, Till to the marble face the soul Its light subhme 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 ! " 64 POEMS OF SCHILLER Flashed the white robe along the air, And from the tower that beetled there She sprang into the wave ; Housed 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 murmured music seems, A gush from unexhausted urns His everlasting streams ! THE HOSTAGE. A BALLAD. The tyrant Dionys to seek, Stern Mcerus with his poniard crept ; The watchful guard upon him swept ; The grim king marked his changeless cheek : " What would st 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," Eephed that haughty man, " to live ; Enough, if thou one grace wilt 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 smiled, — and said With gloomy craft, " So let it be ; Three days I will vouchsafe to thee. But mark — if, when the time be sped, Thou fail'st — thy surety dies instead. POEMS OF SCHILLER 65 His life shall buy thine own release ; Thy guilt atoned, my wrath shall cease." He sought his friend — " The king's decree Ordains my life the cross upon Shall pay the deed I would have done ; 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 uuquailing, He hastes to hold the pledge unfailing. Down the great rains unending bore, Down from the hills the torrents rushed, In one broad stream the brooklets gushed ; The wanderer halts beside the shore. The bridge was swept the tides before — The shattered arches o'er and under Went the tumultuous waves in thunder. Dismayed he takes his idle stand — Dismayed, he strays and shouts around ; His voice awakes no answering sound. No boat will leave the sheltering strand. To bear liim to the wished-for land ; No boatman will Death's pilot be ; The wild stream gathers to a sea ! 66 POEMS OF SCHILLER Sunk by the banks, awhile he weeps, Then raised his arms to Jove, and cried, " Stay thou, oh stay the maddening 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 ! " 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 — rushed the band That find, in woods, 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 Hfe — I take it to the king ! " — and here He snatched 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 hast saved me from the robbers' hand, Through wild floods given the blessed land ; POEMS OF SCHILLER 6; And shall the weak limbs fail me now ? And he ! — 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 sweet waves he bends him o'er. And the sweet waves his strength restore. o» 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 muttered words his ear dismay : " Now — now the cross has claimed its prey ! Despair his winged path pursues. The anxious terrors hound him on — There, reddening in the evening sun, From far, the domes of Syracuse ! — When toward 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 ! " 68 POEMS OF SCHILLER " Too late ! what horror hast thou spoken ! Vaiu life, since it cannot 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 looms dismal on the ground — The eager crowd gape murmuring round. His friend is bound the cross unto. . . . Crowd — guards — all bursts he breathless through " Me ! Doomsmau, me ! " he shouts, " alone ! His life is rescued — lo, mine own ! " Amazement seized the circling ring ! Linked in each other's arms the pair — Weeping for joy — yet anguish there ! Moist every eye that gazed ; — they bring The wondrous tidings to the king — His breast man's heart at last hath known, And the friends stand before his throne. Long silent, he, and wondering long, Gazed 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 three ! " This story, the heroes of which are more properly known to us under the names of Damon and Pythias (or Phintias), Schiller took from Hyginus, in whom tlie friends are called Mcerus and Selinuntius. Schiller has somewhat amplified the incidents in the original, in which the delay of Mcerus is occasioned only by POEMS OF SCHILLER 69 the swollen stream — the other hiudrauces are of Schiller's inven- tion. The subject, like "The Ring of Polycrates," does not admit of that rich poetry of description witli which our author usually adorns some single passage in his narratives. Tlie poetic spirit is rather shown in the terse brevity with which pic- ture after picture is not only sketched but finished — and in the great thought 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 robbers is commonplace and poor. The de- lay occasioned by the thirst of Moerus 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 — iior, in the traveller's preoccupied state of mind, is it probable that he would have so much felt the mere physical want. With less reason has it been urged by other critics, that the sudden relenting of the tyrant is contrary to his character. The tyrant here has no individual character at all. He is the mere personation of disbelief in truth and love — which the spectacle of sublime 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 KNIGHT OF TOGGENBUKG. A BALLAD. " I CAN love thee well, believe me, As a sister true ; Other love, Sir Knight, would grieve me, Sore my heart would rue. Calmly would I see thee going, Calmly, too, appear ; For those tears in silence flowing Find no answer here." Thus she speaks, — he hears her sadly, — How his heartstrings bleed ! In his arms he clasps her madly. Then he mounts his steed. 70 POEMS OF SCHILLER From the Switzer land collects he All his warriors brave ; — Cross on breast, their course directs he To the Holy Grave. In triumphant march advancing, Onward moves the host. While their morion plumes are dancing Where the foes are most. Mortal terror strikes the Paynim At the chieftain's name ; But the knight's sad thoughts enchain him Grief consumes his frame. Twelve long months, with courage daring, Peace he strives to find ; Then, at last, of rest despairing, Leaves the host behind : Sees a ship, whose sails are swelling, Lie on Joppa's strand ; Ships him homeward for her dwelling, In his own loved land. Now behold the pilgrim weary At her castle gate ! But alas ! these accents dreary Seal his mournful fate : " She thou seek'st her troth hath plighted To all-gracious heaven ; To her God she was united Yesterday at even ! " To his father's home for ever Bids he now adieu ; Sees no more his arms and beaver, Nor his steed so true. Then descends he, sadly, slowly, — None suspect the sight, — POEMS OF SCHILLER 71 For a garb of penance lowly- Wears the noble knight. Soon he now, the tempest braving, Builds an humble shed, Where o'er the lime-trees darkly waving, Peeps the convent's head. From the orb of day's first gleaming, Till his race has run, Hope in every feature beaming, There he sits alone. Toward the convent straining ever His unwearied eyes, — From her casement looking never Till it open flies, Till the loved one, soft advancing, Shows her gentle face. O'er the vale her sweet eye glancing. Full of angel-grace. Then he seeks his bed of rushes, Stilled all grief and pain. Slumbering calm, till morning's blushes Waken life again. Days and years fleet on, yet never Breathes he plaint or sighs, On her casement gazing ever Till it open flies. Till the loved one, soft advancing, Shows her gentle face, O'er the vale her sweet eyes glancing. Full of angel-grace. But at length, the morn returning Finds him dead and chill ; — Pale and wan, his gaze, with yearning, Seeks her casement still. 72 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE FIGHT WITH THE DEAGON. Why run the crowd ? What means the throng That rushes fast the streets along ? Can Khodes a prey to flames, then, be ? In crowds they gather hastily, And, on his steed, a noble knight Amid the rabble, meets my sight ; Behind him — prodigy unknown ! — A monster fierce they're drawing on ; A dragon seems it by its shape. With wide and crocodile-like jaw. And on the knight and dragon gape, In turns, the people, filled with awe. And thousand voices shout with glee : " The fiery dragon come and see. Who hind and flock tore limb from limb ! — The hero see, who vanquished him ! Full many a one before him went. To dare the fearful combat bent, But none returned home from the fight ; Honour ye, then, the noble knight ! " And toward the convent move they all, While met in hasty council there The brave knights of the Hospital, St. John the Baptist's Order, were. Up to the noble master sped The youth, with firm but modest tread ; The people followed with wild shout. And stood the landing-place about, While thus outspoke that daring one : " My knightly duty I have done. The dragon that laid waste the land Has fallen beneath my conquering hand. POEMS OF SCHILLER 73 The way is to the wanderer free, The shepherd o'er the plains may rove Across the mountains joyfully The pilgrim to the shrine may move." But sternly looked the prince, and said : " The hero's part thou well hast played : By courage is the true knight known, — A dauntless spirit thou hast shown. Yet speak ! What duty first should he Regard, who would Christ's champion be, Who wears the emblem of the Cross ?" And all turned pale at his discourse. Yet he replied, with noble grace, While blushingly he bent him low : " That he deserves so proud a place Obedience best of all can show." " My son," the master answering spoke, " Thy daring act this duty broke. The conflict that the law forbade Thou hast with impious mind essayed." — " Lord, judge when all to thee is known," The other spake in steadfast tone, — • " ¥oT I the law's commands and will Purposed with honour to fulfil. I went not out with heedless thought. Hoping the monster dread to find ; To conquer in the fight I sought By cunning, and a prudent mind. " Five of our noble Order, then (Our faith could boast no better men), Had by their daring lost their life, When thou forbadest us the strife. And yet my heart I felt a prey To gloom, and panted for the fray ; 74 POEMS OF SCHILLER Ay, even in the stilly night, In vision gasped I in the fight ; And when the glimmering morning came, And of fresh troubles knowledge gave, A raging grief consumed my frame, And I resolved the thing to brave. " And to myself I thus began : ' What is't adorns the youth, the man ? What actions of the heroes bold, Of whom in ancient song we're told, Blind heathendom raised up on high To godhke fame and dignity ? The world, by deeds known far and wide, From monsters fierce they purified ; The lion in the fight they met, And wrestled with the minotaur, Unhappy victims free to set. And were not sparing of their gore. " ' Are none but Saracens to feel The prowess of the Christian steel ? False idols only shall be brave ? His mission is the world to save ; To free it, by his sturdy arm. From every hurt, from every harm ; Yet wisdom must his courage bend, And cunning must with strength contend.' Thus spake I oft, and went alone The monster's traces to espy ; When on my mind a bright light shone, — ' I have it ! ' was my joyful cry. " To thee I went, and thus I spake : ' My homeward journey I would take.' Thou, lord, didst grant my prayer to me, — Then safely traversed I the sea ; POEMS OF SCHILLER 75 And, when I reached my native strand, I caused a skilful artist's hand To make a dragon's image true To his that now so well I knew. On feet of measure short was placed Its lengthy body's heavy load ; A scaly coat of mail embraced The back, ou which it fiercely showed. " Its stretching neck appeared to sweU, And, ghastly as a gate of hell. Its fearful jaws were open wide, As if to seize the prey it tried ; And in its black mouth, ranged about, Its teeth in prickly rows stood out ; Its tongue was like a sharp-edged sword, And lightning from its small eyes poured ; A serpent's tail of many a fold Ended its body's monstrous span, And round itself with fierceness rolled. So as to clasp both steed and man. " I formed the whole to nature true. In skin of gi'ay and hideous hue ; Part dragon it appeared, part snake. Engendered in the poisonous lake. And, when the figure was complete, A pair of dogs I chose me, fleet. Of mighty strength, of nimble pace. Inured the savage boar to chase ; The dragon, then, I made them bait, Inflaming them to fury dread. With their sharp teeth to seize it straight, And with my voice their motions led. " And, where the belly's tender skin Allowed the tooth to enter in. 76 POEMS OF SCHILLER I taught them how to seize it there, And, with their fangs, the part to tear. I mounted, then, my Arab steed. The oif spring of a noble breed ; My hand a dart on high held forth, And, when I had inflamed his wrath, I stuck my sharp spurs in his side. And urged him on as quick as thought, And hurled my dart in 'circles wide As if to pierce the beast I sought. " And though my steed reared high in pain, And champed and foamed beneath the rein, And though the dogs howled fearfully, Till they were calmed ne'er rested I. This plan I ceaselessly pursued. Till thrice the moon had been renewed ; And when they had been duly taught, In swift ships here I had them brought ; And since my foot these shores has pressed Flown has three mornings' narrow span ; I scarce allowed my limbs to rest Ere I the mighty task began. " For hotly was my bosom stirred When of the land's fresh grief I heard ; Shepherds of late had been his prey, When in the marsh they went astray. I formed my plans then hastily, — My heart was all that counselled me. My squires instructing to proceed, I sprang upon my well-trained steed. And, followed by my noble pair Of dogs, by secret pathways rode, Where not an eye could witness bear. To find the monster's fell abode. POEMS OF SCHILLER ' 77 " Thou, lord, must know the chapel well, Pitched on a rocky pinnacle, That overlooks the distant isle ; A daring mind 'twas raised the pile. Though humble, mean, and small it shows, Its walls a miracle enclose, — The Virgin and her infant Son, Vowed by the three kings of Cologne. By three times thirty steps is led The pilgrim to the giddy height ; Yet, when he gains it with bold tread, He's quickened by his Saviour's sight. " Deep in the rock to which it clings, A cavern dark its arms outflings. Moist with the neighbouring moorland's dew, Where heaven's bright rays can ne'er pierce through. There dwelt the monster, there he lay, His spoil awaiting, night and day ; Like the hell-dragon, thus he kept Watch near the shrine and never slept ; And if a hapless pilgiim chanced To enter on that fatal way, From out his ambush quick advanced The foe, and seized him as his prey. '* I mounted now the rocky height ; Ere I commenced the fearful fight, There knelt I to the infant Lord, And pardon for my sins implored. Then in the holy fane I placed My shining armour round my waist. My right hand grasped my javelin, — The fight then went I to begin ; Instructions gave my squires among. Commanding them to tarry there ; Then on my steed I nimbly sprung. And gave my spirit to God's care. 78 POEMS OF SCHILLER " Soon as I reached the level plain, My dogs found out the scent amain ; My frightened horse soon reared on high, — His fear I could not pacify, For, coiled up in a circle, lo ! There lay the fierce and hideous foe. Sunning himself upon the ground. Straight at him rushed each nimble hound ; Yet thence they turned, dismayed and fast, When he his gaping jaws op'd wide, Vomited forth his poisonous blast, And lilvC the howling jackal cried. " But soon their courage I restored ; They seized with rage the foe abhorred ; While I against the beast's loins threw My spear with sturdy arm and true : But, powerless as a bulrush frail, It bounded from his coat of mail ; And ere I could repeat the throw. My horse reeled wildly to and fro Before his basilisk-like look. And at his poison-teeming breath, — Sprang backward, and with terror shook. While I seemed doomed to certain death. " Then from my steed I nimbly sprung, My sharp-edged sword with vigour swung ; Yet all in vain my strokes I plied, — I could not pierce his rock-like hide. His tail with fury lashing round. Sudden he bore me to the ground. His jaws then opening fearfully, With angry teeth he struck at me ; But now my dogs, with wrath new-born, Rushed on his belly with fierce bite, So that, by dreadful anguish torn, He howling stood before my sight. POEMS OF SCHILLER 79 " And ere he from their teeth was free, I raised myself up hastily, The weak place of the foe explored, And in his entrails plunged my sword, Sinking it even to the hilt ; Black gushing forth, his blood was spilt. Down sank he, burying in his fall Me with his body's giant ball, So that my senses quickly fled ; And when I woke with strength renewed. The dragon in his blood lay dead, While round me grouped my squires all stood." The joyous shouts, so long suppressed. Now burst from every hearer's breast, Soon as the knight these words had spoken ; And ten times 'gainst the high vault broken, The sound of mingled voices rang, Ee-echoing back with hollow clang The Order's sons demand, in haste. That with a crown his brow be graced, And gratefully in triumph now The mob the youth would bear along, When, lo ! the master knit his brow, And called for silence 'mongst the throng. And said, " The dragon that this land Laid waste, thou slew'st with daring hand ; Although the people's idol thou, The Order's foe I deem thee now. Thy breast has to a fiend more base Than e'en this dragon given place. The serpent that the heart most stmgs. And hatred and destruction brings. That spirit is, which stubborn lies. And impiously cast off the rein, 8o POEMS OF SCHILLER Despising order's sacred ties ; 'Tis that destroys the world amain. " The Mameluke makes of courage boast, Obedience decks the Christian most ; For where our great and blessed Lord As a mere servant walked abroad, The fathers, on that holy ground. This famous Order chose to found, That arduous duty to fulfil. To overcome one's own self-will ! 'Twas idle glory moved thee there : So take thee hence from out my sight ! For who the Lord's yoke cannot bear. To wear his cross can have no right." A furious shout now raise the crowd, The place is filled with outcries loud ; The brethren all for pardon cry ; The youth in silence droops his eye — Mutely his garment from him throws, Kisses the master's hand, and — goes. But he pursues him with his gaze, Eecalls him lovingly, and says : " Let me embrace thee now, my son ! The harder fight is gained by thee. Take, then, this cross — the guerdon won By self-subdued humility." NATUKALISTS AND TRANSCENDENTAL PHILOSOPHERS. Enmity be between ye ! Your union too soon is cemented ; Ye will but learn to know truth when ye divide in the search. POEMS OF SCHILLER 8i THE COUNT OF HAPSBUKG.i A BALLAD. At Aix-la-Chapelle, in imperial array, In its halls renowned in old story, At the coronation banquet so gay King Rudolf was sitting in glory. The meats were served up by the Palsgrave of Pthine, The Bohemian poured out the bright sparkling wine, And all the Electors, the seven. Stood waiting around the world-governing one, As the chorus of stars encircle the sun. That honour might duly be given. And the people the lofty balcony round In a throng exulting were filling ; While loudly were blending the trumpets' glad sound. The multitude's voices so thrilling ; For the monarchless period, with horror rife, Has ended now, after long baneful strife. And the earth had a lord to possess her. No longer ruled blindly the iron-bound spear. And the weak and the peaceful no longer need fear Being crushed by the cruel oppressor. And the emperor speaks with a smile in his eye. While the golden goblet he seizes : " With this banquet in glory none other can vie. And my regal heart well it pleases ; Yet the minstrel, the briuger of joy, is not here, Whose melodious strains to my heart are so dear. And whose words heavenly wisdom inspire ; 1 The somewhat irregular metre of the original has been pre- served in this ballad, as in other poems ; although the perfect anapaestic metre is perhaps more familiar to the English ear. 82 POEMS OF SCHILLER Since the days of my youth it hath been my delight And that which I ever have loved as a knight, As a monarch I also require." And behold ! 'mongst the princes who stand round the throne, Steps the bard, in his robe long and streaming, While, bleached by the years that have over him flown, His silver locks brightly are gleaming : " Sweet harmony sleeps in the golden strings. The minstrel of true love reward ever sings, And adores what to virtue has tended — What the bosom may wish, what the senses hold dear ; But say, what is worthy the emperor's ear At this, of all feasts the most splendid ? " " No restraint would I place on the minstrel's own choice," Speaks the monarch, a smile on each feature ; " He obeys the swift hour's imperious voice, Of a far greater lord is the creature. For, as through the air the storm-wind on-speeds, — One knows not from whence its wild roaring pro- ceeds, — As the spring from hid sources up-leaping, So the lay of the bard from the inner heart breaks — While the might of sensations unknown it awakes, That within us were wondrously sleeping." Then the bard swept the cords with a finger of might, Evoking their magical sighing : " To the chase once rode forth a valorous knight, In pursuit of the antelope flying. His hunting-spear bearing, there came in his train His squire ; and when o'er a wide-spreading plain On his stately steed he was riding. POEMS OF SCHILLER 83 He heard in the distance a bell tinkling clear, And a priest, with the Host, he saw soon drawing near. While before him the sexton was striding. " And low to the earth the Count then inclined. Bared his head in humble submission, To honour, with trusting and Christian-like mind. What had saved the whole world from perdition. But a brook o'er the plain was pursuing its course, That, swelled by the mountain stream's headlong force, Barred the wanderer's steps with its current ; So the priest on one side the blest sacrament put, And his sandal with nimbleness drew from his foot, That he safely might pass through the torrent. " * What wouldst thou ? ' the Count to him thus began. His wondering look toward him turning : ' My jouruey is, lord, to a dying man, Who for heavenly diet is yearning ; But when to the bridge o'er the brook I came nigh, In the whirl of the stream, as it madly rushed by, With furious might 'twas uprooted. And so, that the sick the salvation may find That he pants for, I hasten with resolute mind To wade through the waters barefooted.' "O' " Then the Count made him mount on his stately steed. And the reins to his hands he confided, That he duly might comfort the sick in his need. And that each holy rite be provided. And himself, on the back of the steed of his squire. Went after the chase to his heart's full desire, While the priest on his journey was speeding : 84 POEMS OF SCHILLER And the following morning, with thankful look, To the Count once again his charger he took, Its bridle with modesty leading. " ' God forbid that in chase or in battle,' then cried The Count with humility lowly, * The steed I henceforward should dare to bestride That had borne my Creator so holy ! And if, as a guerdon, he may not be thine. He devoted shall be to the service divine. Proclaiming His iufiuite merit. From whom I each honour and earthly good Have received in fee, and my body and blood, And my breath, and my life, and my spirit.' " ' Then may God, the sure rock, whom no time can e'er move. And who lists to the weak's supplication, For the honour thou pay'st Him, permit thee to prove Honour /terc and hereafter salvation ! Thou'rt a powerful Count, and thy knightly command Hath blazoned thy fame through the Switzer's broad land ; Thou art blest with six daughters admired ; May they each in thy house introduce a bright crown. Filling ages unborn with their glorious renown ' — Thus exclaimed he in accents inspired." And the emperor sat there ail-thoughtfully, While the dream of the past stood before him ; And when on the minstrel he turned his eye, His words' hidden meaning .stole o'er him ; For seeing the traits of the priest there revealed; In the folds of his purple-dyed robe he concealed His tears as they swiftly coursed down. And all on the emperor wonderingly gazed, And the blest dispensations of Providence praised, For the Count and the Caesar were one. POEMS OF SCHILLER 85 THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE. For ever fair, for ever calm aud bright, Life flies on plumage, zephyr-light. For those who ou the Olympian hill rejoice — Moons wane, and races wither to the tomb, Aud, 'mid the universal ruin, bloom The rosy days of gods — Witli 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. Seekest thou on earth the life of gods to share, Safe in the realm of death ? — beware To pluck the fruits that ghtter 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 cham of waves that bound Thy daughter, Ceres, to the Stygian river — She plucked the fruit of the unholy ground, And so — was hell's for ever ! The weavers of the web — the fates — but sv/ay The matter and the things of clay ; Safe from 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 ou its joyous wing ? Cast from thee, earth, the bitter and the real. High from this cramped and dungeon being, spring Into the realm of the ideal ! 1 "Die Gestalt " — form, the Platonic archetype. 86 POEMS OF SCHILLER 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, Ere down to flesh the immortal doth descend : — If doubtful ever in the actual life Each contest — here a victory crowns the end Of every nobler strife. 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 ! 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. But life, whose source, by crags around it piled. Chafed while confined, foams fierce and wild. Glides soft and smooth when once its streams expand, When its waves, glassing in their silver play. POEMS OF SCHILLER 87 Aurora blent with Hesper'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. When, through 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 thought 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. 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, tbe cares, the weary toils it cost Leave not a trace wben once the work is done — The artist's human frailty merged and lost In art's great victory won ! ^ If human sin confronts the rigid law Of perfect truth and virtue,^ awe iMore literally translated thus by the author of the article ou Schiller in the Foreign and Colonial Review, July, 1843 — "Theuce all witnesses for ever banished Of poor human nakedness." 2 The law, i. e., the Kantian ideal of truth and virtue. This stanza and the next embody, perhaps with some exaggeration, the Kautian doctrine of morality. 88 POEMS OF SCHILLER Seizes and saddens thee to see how far Beyond thy reach, perfection ; — if we test By the ideal of the good, 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 ! But fly the boundary of the senses — live The ideal life free thouglit can give ; And, lo, the gulf shall vanish, and the chill Of the soul's impotent despair be gone ! And with divinity thou shares t the throne, Let but divinity become thy will I Scoru 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 ! If, in the woes of actual human life — If tliou 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 human 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. But in the ideal realm, aloof and far, Where the calm art's pure dwellers are, Lo, the Laocoon writhes, but does not groan. 1 " But in Gocr.s sight submission is command." " ,(onah " by the Rev. F. Hodgson. Quoted in Foreign aud Colonial Beview, July, 1843 : Art. Schiller, p. 2L POEMS OF SCHILLER 89 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, Gleaming through grief's dark veil, the peaceful blue Of the sweet moral heaven. So, in the glorious parable, behold How, bowed to mortal 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-browed 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 — 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 smiling Hebe, from the ambrosial stream, Fills for a god the bowl ! t3"^ PAEABLES AND EIDDLES. T. There stands a dwelling, vast and tall. On unseen columns fair ; No wanderer treads or leaves its hall. And none can linger there. 90 POEMS OF SCHILLER Its wondrous structure first was planned With art no mortal knows ; It lights the lamps with its own hand 'Mongst which it brightly glows. It has a roof, as crystal bright, Formed of one gem of dazzling light ; Yet mortal eye has ne'er Seen him who placed it there. IL Among all serpents there is one, Born of no earthly breed ; In fury wild it stands alone, And in its matchless speed. With fearful voice and headlong force It rushes on its prey, And sweeps the rider and his horse In one fell swoop away. The highest point it loves to gain ; And neither bar nor lock Its fiery onslaught can restrain ; And arms — invite its shock. It tears in twain, like tender grass. The strongest forest-trees ; It grinds to dust the hardened brass, Though stout and firm it be. *o' And yet this beast, that none can tame, Its threat ne'er twice fulfils; It dies in its self-kindled flame, And dies e'en when it kills. POEMS OF SCHILLER 91 III. A bird it is, whose rapid motion With eagle's flight divides the air; A tish it is, aud parts the ocean, That bore a greater monster ne'er ; An elephant it is, whose rider On his broad back a tower has put ; 'Tis like the reptile base, the spider, Whenever it extends it foot ; And when, with iron tooth projecting. It seeks its own hfe-blood to drain. On footing firm, itself erecting, It braves the raging hurricane. 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 ! Who would honour obtain. With the sweat aud 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. ^"I call the living — I mourn the dead — I break the light- ning." These words are inscribed on the great bell of the Mins- ter of Schaffhausen — 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 bell, broke the electric fluid of a thunder-cloud. 92 POEMS OF SCHILLER 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 gathered 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, Eouse 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. 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 ; . ""Blushing He Glides IV here' er She CMoves" Photogravure from the pahiting Ity A. l-iczeii-Mayer -*?^; POEMS OF SCHILLER 93 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 cherished child shall welcome in ; What time the rosy dreams of life. In the first slumber's arms begin. As yet, ill Time's dark womb unwarning, Eepose the days, or foul or fair ; And watchful o'er that golden morning, The mother-love's untiring care ; And swift the years hke 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 staff the wide world measures ; And, wearied with the wish to roam, Again seeks, stranger-hke, 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 compassions 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 hfe's first age of gold ; When the heart, swelling, seems to see The gates of heaven unfold ! love, the beautiful and brief ! prime. Glory, and verdure, of life's summer-time ! 94 POEMS OF SCHILLER Browning o'er, the pipes are simmering, Dip this wand of clay ^ within ; If hke 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. Kings 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 the virgin wreath, the bride! To the love-feast clearly ringing, Tolls the church-bell far and wide ! With that sweetest holiday, Must the May of life depart ; With the cestus loosed — away Flies illusion from the heart ! Yet love lingers lonely, When passion is nnite, 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, 1 A piece of clay pipe, wliicli becomes vitrified if the metal is sufficiently heated. POEMS OF SCHILLER 95 Must wager and venture And hunt down his fortune ! Then flows in a current the gear and the gain, And the garners are filled 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 Employed 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 the dwelhng ; And she hoards in the presses, well polished and full, The snow of the linen, the shine of the wool ; Blends the sweet with the good, and from care and endeavour Rests never ! Bhthe the master (where the while From his roof he sees them smile) Eyes the lauds, and counts the gain ; There, the beams projecting far, And the laden storehouse are, And the granaries bowed beneath The blessed golden grain ; There, in undulating motion. Wave the corn-fields like an ocean. Proud the boast the proud lips breathe : — " My house is built upon a rock, 96 POEMS OF SCHILLER 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. Now the 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 about What vapour, what vapour — God help us ! — has risen ? — Ha ! the tlame like a torrent leaps forth from its prison ! What friend is like the might of fire When man can watch and wield the ire ? Whate'er 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 free Nature's free-born child. 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 ! Avengingly out from the cloud Come the levin, the bolt, and the ball ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 97 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 flood The sky ! What a clamour awaking Roars up through the street, What a hell-vapour breaking Eolls on through the street, And higher and higher Aloft moves the column of fire ! Through the vistas and rows Like a whirlwind it goes, And the air Kke the stream from the furnace glows. Beams are crackling — posts are shrinking — Walls are sinking — windows chnking — 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 garners it crackles and streams ! As if they would rend up the earth from its roots. Rush the flames to the sky Giant-high ; 98 POEMS OF SCHILLER 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 blauk voids that cheerful casements were, 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 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 ! Now clasped 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 mmgled the fear — And, ev'n now, while we speak, the mishap may be near ! To the dark womb of sacred earth This labour of our hands is given, As seeds that wait the second birth, And turn to blessings watched by heaven ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 99 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 dirge-note — solemn, sad, and slow. To the last home earth's weary wanderers know. It is that worshipped wife — It is that faithful mother ! ^ Wliora the dark prince of shadows leads benighted, From that dear arm where oft she clung delighted ; Far from those blithe companions, born Of her, and blooming in their morn ; On whom, when couched her heart above, So often looked the mother-love ! Ah ! rent the sweet home's union-band, 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 ! Wliile the mass is cooling now, Let the labour yield to leisure, As the bird upon the bough, Loose the travail to the pleasure. ^The translator adheres to the original, in forsaking the rhyme in these lines and some others. loo POEMS OF SCHILLER 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, Through 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, Eeels 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 ! Though darkness is spreading O'er earth — the upright And the honest, undreading, Look safe on the night — Which the evil man watches in awe, For the eye of the night is the law ! Bliss-dowered ! daughter of the skies. Hail, holy order, whose employ Blends like to like in light and joy — Builder of cities, who of old Called the wild man from waste and wold. POEMS OF SCHILLER loi And, in his hut thy presence steahng, Roused each famihar 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 linked the master with the man. Each in Ms rights can each revere. And while they march in freedom's van. Scorn the lewd rout that dogs the rear ! To freeman 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, Linms 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 ! to^ Now, its destined task fulfilled. 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 : — I02 POEMS OF SCHlLLliR For not till we shatter the wall of its cell Can we Uft from its darkness and bondage the bell. To break the mould, the master may, If skilled the hand and ripe the hour; But woe, when on its tiery 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 tlie red destruction come ! Wlien 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 but things of peace to tell. Becomes the ghastliest voice of war : " Freedom ! Equality ! " — to blood Eush the roused people at the sound ! Through street, hall, palace, roars the flood, And banded murder closes round! The hyena-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 hollow — burst the ties Of life's sublime and reverent awe ; Before the vice the virtue flies. And universal crime is law ! " zAnd Concordia We Will Name Her''' Photogravure from the painting by A. Liezen-Mayer POEMS OF SCHILLER 103 Man fears the lion's kingly tread ; Man fears the tiger's fangs of terror ; And still the dreadliest 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 ! Eejoice 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 sunbeam. And even the scutcheon, clear-graven, shall tell That the art of a master has fashioned the bell ! Come in — come in. My merry men — we'll form a ring The new-born labour christening ; And " Concord " we will name her ! — To union may her heartfelt 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-pavilioned heaven afar To dwell — the neighbour of the thunder. The borderer of the star ! Be hers above a voice to rise Like those bright hosts in yonder sphere, 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 — Fanned by the fleeting wings of time ! — I04 POEMS OF SCHILLER No pulse — no heart — uo 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 ! Slowly now the cords upheave her ! From her earth-grave soars the bell ; Mid the airs of heaven we leave her ! In the music-realm 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 hallowed to peace ! ^ HONOUR TO WOMAN. [Literally " Dignity of Women."] Honour to woman ! To her it 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 conceahng. She tends on each altar that's hallowed to feeling And keeps ever-living the fire ! G' 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, 1 Written in the time of the French war. POEMS OF SCHILLER 105 Chasing his own dream for ever, On through many a distant star ! But woman, with looks that can charm and enchain, Lureth hack at her heck the wikl truant again, By the spell of her presence beguiled — In the home of the mother her modest abode. And modest the manners by Nature bestowed Ou Nature's most exquisite child ! Bruised and worn, but fiercely breasting, Foe to foe, the angry strife ; Man, the wild one, never resting, "Roams along the troubled life ; What he planneth, still pursuing; Vainly as the Hydra bleeds, Crest the severed crest renewing — Wish to withered 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 reigueth o'er The mighty dominion of genius and lore, And the infinite circle of song. ^O" Strong, and proud, and self-depending, Man's cold bosom beats alone ; Heart with heart divinely blending, In the love that gods have known. Soul's sweet interchange of feeling, Melting tears — he never knows. Each hard sense the hard one steeling, Arms against a world of foes. "O^ Alive, as the wind-harp, how lightly soever If wooed by the zephyr, to music will quiver, Is woman to hope and to fear ; Io6 POEMS OF SCH1LLI:R Ah, tender one ! still at the shadow of grieving, How quiver the chords — huw thy bosom is heaving How trembles the glance through the tear ! Man's dominion, war and labour ; Might to riglit the statue gave ; Laws are in the Scythian's sabre ; Where the Mede reigned — see the slave ! Peace and meekness grimly routing, Prowls the war-lust, rude and wild ; Eris rages, hoarsely shouting. Where the vanished graces smiled. But woman, the soft one, persuasively prayeth — Of the life ^ that she charmeth, the sceptre she sway- eth ; 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 GERMAN ART. By no kind Augustus reared, To no Medici endeared, German art arose ; Fostering glory smiled not on her, Ne'er with kingly smiles to sun her, Did her blooms unclose. No, — she went by monarchs slighted. Went unhonoured, unrequited. From high Frederick's throne ; 1 Literally "the manners." The French word moeurs corre- sponds best with the German. POEMS OF SCHILLER 107 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 ANTIQUES AT PAPJS. That which Grecian art created. Let the Frank, with joy elated, Bear to Seine's triumphant strand, And in his museums glorious Show the trophies all-victorious To his wondering fatherland. They to him are silent ever, Into life's fresh circle never From their pedestals come down. He alone e'er holds the Muses Through whose breast their power diffuses, To the Vandal they're but stone ! THEKLA. A SPIRIT VOICE. Whither was it that my spirit wended, When from thee my fleeting shadow moved ? Is not now each earthly conflict ended ? Say, — have I not lived, have I not loved ? loS POEMS OF SCHILLER Art thou for the nightiugales inquiring Who entranced thee in the early year With their melody so joy-inspiring ? Only whilst they loved they lingered here. Is the lost one lost to me for ever? Trust me, with him joyfully I stray There, where nought united souls can sever, And where every tear is wiped away. And thou, too, wilt find us in you heaven, When thy love with our love can compare ; There my father dwells, his sins forgiven, — - Murder foul can never reach him there. And he feels that him no vision cheated When he gazed upon the stars on high ; ^ For as each one metes, to him 'tis meted ; Who believes it, hath the Holy nigh. Faith is kept in those blest regions yonder With the feelings true that ne'er decay. Venture thou to dream, then, and to wander : Noblest thoughts oft lie in childlike play. THE MAID OF ORLEANS. Humanity's bright image to impair, Scorn laid thee prostrate in the deepest dust ; Wit wages ceaseless war on all that's fair, — In angel and in God it puts no trust ; The bosom's treasures it would make its prey, — Besieges fancy, — dims e'en faith's pure ray. See "Piccolomini," act ii. sc. 6 ; and " The Death of Wallen- stein," act v. sc. 3. POEMS OF SCHILLER 109 Yet issuing like thyself from humble Hue, Like thee a gentle shepherdess is she — Sweet poesy affords her rights divine, And to the stars eternal soars with thee. Around thy brow a glory she hath thrown ; The heart 'twas formed thee, — ever thou'lt live on ! The world dehghts whate'er is bright to stain, And in the dust to lay the glorious low ; Yet fear not ! noble bosoms still remain, That for the lofty, for the radiant glow ; Let Momus serve to fill the booth with mirth, A nobler mind loves forms of nobler worth. THE PROVERBS OF CONFUCIUS. L Threefold is the march of time : While the future slow advances, Like a dart the present glances, Silent stands the past sublime. No impatience e'er can speed him On his course if he delay ; No alarm, no doubts impede him If he keep his onward way ; No regrets, no magic numbers Wake the tranced one from his slumbers. Wouldst thou wisely and with pleasure, Pass the days of life's short measure, From the slow one counsel take, But a tool of him ne'er make ; Ne'er as friend the swift one know, Nor the constant one as foe ! no POEMS OF SCHILLER II. Threefold is the form of space : Length, with ever restless motion, Seeks eternity's wide ocean ; Breadth with boundless sway extends ; Depth to unknown realms descends. All as types to thee are given ; Thou must onward strive for heaven, Never still or weary be Wouldst thou perfect glory see ; Far must thy researches go Wouldst thou learn the world to know ; Thou must tempt the dark abyss Wouldst thou prove what Being is. Nought but firmness gains the prize, — Nought but fulness makes us wise, — Buried deep, truth ever hes BREADTH AND DEPTH. Full many a shining wit one sees. With tongue on all things well conversing ; The what can charm, the what can please. In every nice detail rehearsing. Their raptures so transport the college, It seems one honeymoon of knowledge. Yet out they go in silence where They whilom held their learned prate ; 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. POEMS OF SCHILLER iii With wanton boughs and pranksome hues, Aloft in air aspires the stem ; The ghttering leaves inhale the dews, But fruits are not concealed in them. From the small kernel's undiscerned repose The oak that lords it o'er the forest grows. VOTIVE TABLETS. DIFFERENT DESTINIES. Millions busily toil, that the human race may con- tinue ; But by only a few is propagated our kind. Thousands of seeds by the autumn are scattered, yet fruit is engendered Only by few, for the most back to the element go. But if one only can blossom, that one is able to scatter Even a bright living world, filled with creations eterne. THE PRESENT GENERATION. Was it always as now ? This race I truly can't fathom. Nothing is young but old age ; youth, alas ! only is old. TO THE MUSE. What I had been without thee, I know not — yet, to my sorrow See I what, without thee, hundreds and thousands now are. THE DUTY OF ALL. Ever strive for the whole ; and if no whole thou canst make thee, Join, then, thyself to some whole, as a subservient limb! 112 POEMS OF SCHILLER A PKOBLEM. Let none resemble auother; let each resemble the highest ! How can that happen ? let each be all complete in itself. TO MYSTICS. That is the only true secret, which in the presence of all men Lies, and surrounds thee for aye, but which is wit- nessed by none. THE KEY. WouLDST thou know thyself, observe the actions of others. Wouldst thou other men know, look thou within thine own heart. POLITICAL PEECEPT. All that thou doest is right ; but, friend, don't carry this precept On too far, — be content, all that is right to effect. It is enough to true zeal, if what is existing be perfect ; False zeal always would find finished perfection at once. THE BEST STATE. " How can I know the best state ? " In the way that thou know'st the best woman ; Namely, my friend, that the world ever is silent of both. MY FAITH. Which religion do I acknowledge ? None that thou namest. " None that I name ? And why so ? " — Why, for rehgion's own sake. POEMS OF SCHILLER 113 GENIUS. Understanding, indeed, can repeat what already existed, — That which Nature has built, after her she, too, can build. Over Nature can reason build, but in vacancy only ; But thou, Genius, alone, nature iii nature canst form. THE INQUIRERS. Men now seek to explore each thing from within and without too ! How canst thou make thy escape, Truth, from their eager pursuit ? That they may catch thee, with nets and poles ex- tended they seek thee ; But with a spirit-like tread, glidest thou out of the throng. TO THE poet. Let thy speech be to thee what the body is to the loving ; Beings it only can part, — beings it only can join. LANGUAGE. Why can the living spirit be never seen by the spirit ? Soon as the soul 'gins to speak, then can the soul speak no more ! THE MASTER. Other masters one always can tell by the words that they utter ; That which he wisely omits shows me the master of style. 114 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE FAVOUR OF THE MUSES. Fame with the vulgar expires ; but, Muse immortal, thou bearest Those whom thou lovest, who love thee, into Mnemosyne's arms. homer's head as a SEAL. Trusty old Homer ! to thee I confide the secret so tender ; For the raptures of love none but the bard should e'er know. GOODNESS AND GREATNESS. Only two virtues exist. Oh, would they were ever united ! Ever the good with the great, ever the great with the good ! THE IMPULSES. Fear with his iron staff may urge the slave onward for ever ; Eapture, do thou lead me on ever in roseate chains ! GERMAN GENIUS. Strive, German, for Roman-like strength and for Grecian-like beauty ! Thou art successful in both ; ne'er has the Gaul had success. POEMS OF SCHILLER 115 THEOPHANIA. When the happy appear, I forget the gods in the heaveus ; But before me they stand, when I the suffering see. TEIFLES. THE EPIC HEXAMETEK. Giddily onward it bears thee with resistless impetuous billows ; Nought but the ocean and air seest thou before or behind. THE DISTICH. In the hexameter rises the fountain's watery column, In the pentameter sweet falhng in melody down. THE OBELISK. On a pedestal lofty the sculptor in triumph has raised me. " Stand thou," spake he, — and I stand proudly and joyfully here. THE GATE. Let the gate open stand, to allure the savage to precepts ; Let it the citizen lead into free nature with joy. THE MORAL POET. Man is in truth a poor creature, — I know it, — and fain would forget it ; Therefore ( how sorry I am ! ) came I, alas, unto thee ! ii6 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE PHILOSOPHERS. PUPIL. I AM rejoiced, worthy sirs, to find you in pleno as- sembled ; For I have come down below, seeking the one needful thing. PUPIL. So much the better! So give me (I will not depart hence without it) Some good principle now^ — one that will always avail ! SEVENTH PHILOSOPHER. There is conception at least ! A thing conceived there is, therefore ; And a conceiver as well, — which, with conception, make three. PUPIL. All this nonsense, good sirs, won't answer my purpose a tittle : I a real principle need, — one by which something is fixed. EIGHTH PHILOSOPHER. Nothing is now to be found in the theoretical province ; Practical principles hold, such as; thou canst, for thou shouldst. DAVID HUME. Don't converse with those fellows ! That Kant has turned them all crazy ; Speak to me, for in hell I am the same that I was. POEMS OF SCHILLER 117 THE HOMERIDES. Who is the bard of the Iliad among you ? For since he Hkes puddings, Heyne begs he'll accept these that from Gottingen come. " Give them to mc ! The kings' quarrel I sang ! " — " I, the fight near the vessels ! " — " Hand me the puddings ! I sang what upon Ida took place ! " Gently ! Don't tear me to pieces ! The puddings will not be sufficient ; He by whom they are sent destined them only for one. THE SUBLIME SUBJECT. 'Tis thy Muse's dehght to sing God's pity to mortals : But, that they pitiful are — is it a matter for song ? THE ARTIFICE. WouLDST thou give pleasure at once to the children of ea raw t well! of earth and the righteous ? Draw the image of lust — adding the devil as IMMORTALITY. Dreadest thou the aspect of death ! Thou wishest to live on for ever ? Live in the whole, and when long thou shalt have gone 'twill remain ! Ii8 POEMS OF SCHILLER JEREMIADS. All, both in prose and iu verse, in Germany fast is decaying ; Far behind us, alas, lieth the golden age now ! For by philosophers spoiled is our language — our logic by poets. And no more common sense governs our passage through life. From the iesthetic, to which she belongs, now virtue is driven. And into pohtics forced, where she's a troublesome guest. Where are we hastening now ? If natural, dull we are voted, And if we put on constraint, then the world calls us absurd. Oh, thou joyous artlessness 'mongst the poor maidens of Leipzig, Witty simplicity come, — come, then, to glad us again ! Comedy, oh, repeat thy weekly visits so precious, Sigismund, lover so sweet, — Mascarill, valet jocose ! Tragedy, full of salt and pungency epigrammatic, — And thou, minuet-step of our old buskin preserved ! Philosophic romance, thou mannikin waiting with patience. When, 'gainst the pruner's attack. Nature de- fendeth herself ! Ancient prose, oh return, — so nobly and boldly ex- pressing All that thou thinkest and hast thought, — and what the reader thinks too ! All, both in prose and in verse, in Germany fast is decaying ; Far behind us, alas, lieth the golden age now ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 119 THE KIVERS. RHINE AND MOSELLE. Many a year have I clasped in my arms the Lorrain- ian maiden ; But our union as yet ne'er has been blest with a son. MAIN. Ay, it is true that my castles are crumbling ; yet, to my comfort, Have I for centuries past seen my old race still endure. SAALE. Short is my course, during which I salute many princes and nations ; Yet the princes are good — ay ! and the nations are free. ILM. Poor are my banks, it is true ; but yet my soft-flowing waters Many immortal lays hear, borne by the current along. MINERAL WATERS AT Singular country ! what excellent taste in its foun- tains and rivers ' In its people alone none have I ever yet found ! THE RIVERS. We would gladly remain in the lands that own as their masters ; Soft their yoke ever is, and all their burdens are light. I20 POEMS OF SCHILLER PEGASUS IN HAENESS Once to a horse-fair, — it may perhaps have been Where other things are bought and sold, — I mean At the Haymarket, — there the muses' horse A hungry poet brought — to sell, of course. The hippogriff neighed shrilly, loudly, And reared upon his hind legs proudly ; In utter wonderment each stood and cried : " The noble regal beast ! But, woe betide ! Two hideous wings his slender form deface, The finest team he else would not disgrace." — " The breed," said they, " is doubtless rare. But who would travel through the air ? " — Not one of them would risk his gold. At length a farmer grew more bold : " As for his wings, I of no use should find them. But then how easy 'tis to chp or bind them 1 The horse for drawing may be useful found, — So, friend, I don't mind giving twenty pound ! " The other, glad to sell his merchandise, Cried, " Done ! " — and Hans rode off upon his prize. The noble creature was, ere long, put-to. But scarcely felt the unaccustomed load, Than, panting to soar upwards, off he flew, And, filled with honest anger, overthrew The cart where an abyss just met the road. " Ho ! ho ! " thought Hans ; " no cart to this mad beast I'll trust. Experience makes one wise at least. To drive the coach to-morrow now my course is, And he as leader in the team shall go. The hvely fellow'll save me full two horses; As years pass on, he'll doubtless tamer grow." POEMS OF SCHILLER 121 All went on well at first. The nimble steed His partners roused, — like lightning was their speed. What happened next ? Toward heaven was turned his eye, — Unused across the solid ground to fly, He quitted soon the safe and beaten course, And true to nature's strong resistless force, Ean- over bog and moor, o'er hedge and pasture tilled ; An equal madness soon the other horses filled — No reins could hold them in, no help was near. Till, — only picture the poor travellers' fear ! — The coach, well shaken, and completely wrecked, Upon a hill's steep top at length was checked. " If this is always sure to be the case," Hans cried, and cut a very sorry face, " He'll never do to draw a coach or wagon ; Let's see if we can't tame the fiery dragon By means of heavy work and httle food." And so the plan was tried. — But what ensued ? The handsome beast, before three days had passed. Wasted to nothing. " Stay ! I see at last ! " Cried Hans. " Be quick, you fellows ! yoke him now With my most sturdy ox before the plough." No sooner said than done. In union queer Together yoked were soon winged horse and steer. The griffin pranced with rage, and his remaining might Exerted to resume his old-accustomed flight. 'Twas all in vain — his partner stepped with circum- spection, And Phoebus' haughty steed must follow Ids direc- tion ; 122 POEMS OF SCHILLER Until at last, by long resistance spent, When strength his limbs no longer was controlling, The noble creature, with affliction bent. Fell to the ground, and in the dust lay rolling. " Accursed beast ! " at length with fury mad Hans shouted, while he soundly phed the lash, — " Even for ploughing, then, thou art too bad ! — That fellow was a rogue to sell such trash ! " Ere yet his heavy blows had ceased to fly, A brisk and merry youth by chance came by. A lute was tinkling in his hand, And through his light and flowing hair Was twined with grace a golden band. "Whither, my friend, with that strange pair?" From far he to the peasant cried. " A bird and ox to one rope tied — Was such a team e'er heard of, pray ? Thy horse's worth I'd fain essay ; Just for one moment lend him me, — Observe, and thou shalt wonders see ! " The hippogriff was loosened from the plough, Upon his back the smiling youth leaped now ; No sooner did the creature understand That he was guided by a master-hand, Than 'ginst his bit he champed, and upward soared While lightning from his flaming eyes outpoured. No longer the same being, royally A spirit, ay, a god, ascended he ; Spread in a moment to the stormy wind His noble wings, and left the earth behind, And, ere the eye could follow him, Had vanished in the heavens dim. POEMS OF SCHILLER 123 TO GOETHE. ON HIS PRODUCING VOLTAIRE'S " MAHOMET " ON THE STAGE. Thou, by whom, freed from rules constrained and wrong, On truth and nature once again we're placed, — Wlio, in the cradle e'en a hero strong, Stiflest the serpents round our genius laced, — Thou whom the godhke science has so long With her unsullied sacred fillet graced, — Dost thou on ruined altars sacrifice To that false muse whom we no longer prize ? This theatre belongs to native art. No foreign idols worshipped here are seen ; A laurel we can show, with joyous heart, That on the German Pindus has grown green : The sciences' most holy, hidden part The German genius dares to enter e'en, And, following the Briton and the Greek, A nobler glory now attempts to seek. For yonder, where slaves kneel, and despots hold The reins, — where spurious greatness lifts its head, Art has no power the noble there to mould, 'Tis by no Louis that its seed is spread ; From its own fulness it must needs unfold. By earthly majesty 'tis nevei fed ; Tis with truth only it can e'er unite, Its glow free spirits only e'er can light. 'Tis not to bind us in a worn-out chain Thou dost this play of olden time recall, — 124 POEMS OF SCHILLER 'Tis not to seek to lead us back again To days when thoughtless childhood ruled o'er all. It were, in truth, an idle risk and vain Into the moving wheel of time to fall ; The winged hours for ever bear it on, The new arrives, and, lo ! the old has gone. The narrow theatre is now more wide, Into its space a universe now steals; In pompous words no longer is our pride, Nature we love when she her form reveals ; Fashion's false rules no more are deified ; And as a man the hero acts and feels. 'Tis passion makes the notes of freedom sound, And 'tis in truth the beautiful is found. Weak is the frame of Thespis' chariot fair. Resembling much the bark of Acheron, That carries nought but sliades and forms of air ; And if rude hfe should venture to press on, The fragile bark its weight no more can bear. For fleeting spirits it can hold alone. Appearance ne'er can reach reality, — If nature be victorious, art must fly. For on the stage's boarded scaffold here A world ideal opens to our eyes, Nothing is true and genuine save — a tear ; Emotion on no dream of sense rehes. The real Melpomene is still sincere. Nought as a fable merely she supplies — By truth profound to charm us is her care ; The false one, truth pretends, but to ensnare. Now from the scene, art threatens to retire, Her kingdom wild maintains still phantasy ; POEMS OF SCHILLER 125 The stage she like the world would set on fire, The meanest aud the noblest mingles she. The Frank alone 'tis art can now inspire, And yet her archetype can his ne'er be ; In bounds unchangeable confining her. He holds her fast, and vainly would she stir. The stage to him is pure and undefiled ; Chased from the regions that to her belong Are Nature's tones, so careless and so wild, To him e'en language rises into song ; A realm harmonious 'tis, of beauty mild, Where limb unites to Hmb in order strong. The whole into a solemn temple blends, And 'tis the dance that grace to motion lends. And yet the Frank must not be made our guide, For in his art no living spirit reigns : The boasting gestures of a spurious pride That mind which only loves the true disdains. To nobler ends alone be it applied, Returning, like some soul's long-vanished manes To render the oft-sullied stage once more A throne befitting the great muse of yore. VERSES WRITTEN IN THE FOLIO ALBUM OF A LEARNED FRIEND. Once wisdom dwelt in tomes of ponderous size. While friendship from a pocketbook would talk ; But now that knowledge in small compass lies, And floats in almanacs, as light as cork, Courageous man, thou dost not hesitate To open for thy friends this house so great ! Hast thou no fear, I seriously would ask, That thou may'st thus their patience overtask ? 126 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE JOURNALISTS AND MINOS. I CHANCED the other eve, — But how I ne'er will tell, — The paper to receive That's puhhshed down in hell. In general one may guess, I little care to see This free-corps of the press Got up so easily ; But suddenly my eyes A side-note chanced to meet, And fancy my surprise At reading in the sheet : — " For twenty weary springs " (The post from Erebus, Remark me, always brings Unpleasant news to us) " Through want of water, we Have well-nigh lost our breath ; In great perplexity Hell came and asked for Death ; "'They can wade through the Styx, Catch crabs in Lethe's flood ; Old Charon's in a fix. His boat hes in the mud, POEMS OF SCHILLER 127 « ' The dead leap over there, The youug and old as well ; The boatmau gets no fare, And loudly curses hell.' " King Minos bade his spies lu all directions go ; The devils needs must rise, And briog him news below. " Hurrah ! The secret's told ! They've caught the robber's nest ; A merry feast let's hold ! Come, hell, and join the rest ! " An author's countless band. Stalked round Cocytus' brink, Each bearing in his hand A glass for holding ink. "And into casks they drew The water, strange to say. As boys suck sweet wdne through An elder-reed in play. « Quick ! o'er them cast the net, Ere they have time to flee ! Warm welcome ye will get, So come to Sans-souci ! « Smelt by the king ere long, He sharpened up his tooth, And thus addressed the throng (Full angrily, in truth) : 128 POEMS OF SCHILLER " ' The robbers is't we see ? What trade ? What land, perchance ? ' ' German news-writers we ! ' — Enough to make us dance ! " ' A wish I long have known To bid ye stop and dine, Ere ye by Death were mown, That-brother-in-law of mine. " ' Yet now by Styx I swear, Whose flood ye would imbibe, That torments and despair Shall fill your vermin-tribe ! " ' The pitcher seeks the well, Till broken 'tis one da ' ; They who for ink would smell, The penalty must pay. " ' So seize them by their thumbs. And loosen straight my beast ; E'en now he hcks his gums. Impatient for the feast.' — *' How quivered every limb Beneath the bull-dog's jaws ! Their honours bated him, And he allowed no pause, " Convulsively they swear, Still writhe the rabble rout, Engaged with anxious care In pumping Lethe out." POEMS OF SCHILLER 129 Ye Christians, good and meek, This vision bear in mind : If journalists ye seek Attempt their thumbs to find. Defects they often hide, As folks whose hairs are gone We see with wigs supplied : Probatum ! I have done ! LAURA AT THE SPINET. When the strings thy fingers sweep, Laura, all my spirits fail, Marble-cold my forces sleep, Life and Death before thee quail. For thy sovereign powers impress Hearts — a very sorceress. Gentle zephyrs rustle by, Hanging on thy melody, And, enraptured by the strain. Dancing round and round remain. Nature's self is calm and still. Drinking in thy every thrill : Victim to thy music she, 'Tis thy glance that conquers me. Heaven-born harmonies arise In voluptuous accord, Sweet, as though from azure skies, New-born Seraphim upsoared. As, bursting from Creation's womb. And quitting Chaos' dreary zones. The Sun dispersed primeval gloom So streams the magic of thy tones. I30 POEMS OF SCHILLER Gentle now, as down their course Silver twinkling ripples leap, Gathering now majestic force Like an organ grave and deep ; Bursting anon in storm, as from the rock Descends the cataract with foaming shock ; Then they murmur once again In coquetting notes of love, As the wanton airs complain To the quivering aspen grove. And now in slow and melancholy wail, As flutter ghosts upon the midnight gale, The damned proclaim their lamentable fears, And dark Cocytus passes, big with tears. Ah ! maiden, dost thou in communion dwell With heavenly spirits ? I adjure thee, tell ! And is their language (answer, I beseech. And hide it not) the true Elysian speech ? TO LAURA. MELANCHOLY. Laura, morning's waking rays In thy golden glances flame, O'er thy cheek the crimson strays, And thy pearl-like tears proclaim Ecstasy thy mother's name. Happy he who can assign To those tears a source divine, For to him new suns arise, Shining from unclouded skies. And thy soul — a vision clear, Like a silver, sunlit mere, POEMS OF SCHILLER 131 Autumn's dreary tints of gray Can transform to smiling May, Deserts to a radiant sphere. O'er the future's dread unseen Spreadest thou a golden sheen ; Thou smilest at Nature's harmony And grace ; but I can only sigh. Powers of darkness ever creep Underneath this earth of ours ; Castles frowning on the steep, Cities with their stately towers. All on mouldering bones are piled. Thy carnations owe their bloom To corruption, and defiled, Fountains issue from the tomb. As the planets upward sail. Let them, Laura, tell their tale ! Under their commanding zone Thousand thousand springs have flown, Countless thrones have been upraised, Countless battle-fields have blazed. Wouldest thou the story trace ? Seek it in some iron-bound place ; Sooner or later, when the end is nigh, Away the planet's chariot wheels will fly. 'Tis but a twinkle — and the Sun In the sea of Death goes down ! Prithee, whence thy glances ? Say, Boastest thou that brilliant eye, Or thy cheek's empurpled dye. Borrowed all from mouldering clay ? Maid, expensive was the loan ; To Death thou must restore his own. And heavy interest pay. 132 POEMS OF SCHILLER Speak not of Death in careless tone ! The rosier thy cheeks appear, The more exalted is his throne. Beneath that skin so fresh and fair The foeman marks thee for his own. Laura, — my words no fancy deem, — Death ward alone thine eye is bent ; With every glance is nearer spent Thy life-lamp's little gleam. " But my pulses strong and blithe Bound along," I hear thee say. Ah ! But the tyrant's creatures writhe Insidiously towards decay. Death thy smiles away shall sweep. As the tempest o'er the deep Drives the many-coloured foam. Vain it is to seek their trace Limned in Nature's smiling face, In life itself, as though his home. The dread Destroyer takes his place. Alas ! thy roses wind-shorn lie, Thy lovely mouth is hushed and pale. The levelling storm, the winter's gale Thy cheeks' entrancing beauty try. The misty light of drooping years The silver stream of youth will dull ; In Laura's love will come a lull, As her attraction disappears. Maiden, thy Poet, sturdy as an oak, Stands; on his hardy youth descends in vain The piercing shaft, the death-compelling stroke ; My glances — blazing as the lamps which reign In heaven's self — my soul more ruddy bright Than even heaven's everlasting fires, POEMS OF SCHILLER 133 Such sea-swept heavens as alternate smite In fury, then up-build the craggy spires. Through boundless space my thoughts unfettered move, And nothing fear but their own narrow gi'oove. With pride, my Laura, does thy bosom swell ? Know then, fair maid, the waters of this well. This cup from which the Godhead seems to speak, With poison reek ! Ah ! thrice unhappy who essay To strike the spark divine from clay. Before the bold harmonious note The trembling harp-strings leap and burst, And Genius' rays in space which float On life's poor flame alone are nursed. Subservient guardians before him prone Lie, and detach him from his living throne ! Alas ! my spirits, stirred to impious fire. In league are bound, and 'gainst myself conspire. Let two brief springs, my Laura, pass — But two — and then this house of clay Will fall, a tottering ruined mass. Extinguishing my feeble ray. Dost weep, my Laura ? — Dry those tears, Which but lament my tale of years ! Nay, dry those tears for very shame ! Would Laura see my forces fail. Would she behold me shrink and quail, Who knew me in my youthful fame ? She hear my frozen spirit chide The fervour of my early pride. And mark my ageing conscience pour Rebuke on favourite sins of yore ? Nay, dry those tears for very shame ' 134 POEMS OF SCHILLER Yes ! Cull the flower in its bloom, And thou, good youth, enwrapped in gloom, My life's torch quench in tears. As falls the curtain on the tragic stage And, rustling down, conceals the fairest page, The shadows fly : — the crowd still sits and hears. THE GREATNESS OF THE WORLD. TVliD the burst of Creation from Chaos unfurled. On the wings of the wind I soar over the world ; On the uttermost strand Of its ocean I land ; And anchor where never a zephyr is known. And Creation has planted its boundary stone, I saw the young stars from their cradle arise, And start on their infinite course through the skies ; I watched them at play To their goal as they sway ; — It was but a moment, and looking again, I gazed upon void — not a star in the Main ! To the regions of space I courageously steer, Outspeeding the light in mine airy career ; The heavens are dim 'Neath the mists as they skim ; Whole systems of planets, whole oceans in flood Hound the track of the sun-hunting wanderer scud. Lo ! A pilgrim I meet on my desolate way. — " Hold, there, brother Palmer, thy purpose display ! " *' To the world's very end My direction I bend. To the harbour where never a zephyr is known, And Creation has planted its boundary stone." POEMS OF SCHILLER 135 " Thou courtest the Infinite, sailest in vain ! " " Good pilgrim, thou sail'st on a similar plane ! — Thy wings thou must fold, Be they never so bold ! However adventurous Phantasy's ship, The anchor of Phantasy never can grip." ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH.i Such dismal moaning as a storm precedes With smothered echoes fills the house of woe, The death-chime from the Minster tower pleads ! A youth is carried forth with footsteps slow. A stripling — not yet ripened for the tomb, Plucked prematurely in his early days, His pulses strong, his cheeks in ruddy bloom, The fire yet flashing from his eager gaze. A son — his mother's darling (you may tell From that long, lamentable cry of pain) My bosom friend — alas ! my brother too — An ye be men, follow the mournful train ! Boast ye, ye lofty, hoary-headed pines Who shrink not from the storm, nor thunders fear ? Ye mountain tops on which the heavens recline ? Ye heavens, that whole suns march in your sphere ? Dost boast, thou graybeard, that this honoured name On great achievement's swelling wave relies ? And does the hero boast his ancient fame, Safe in his glorious temple in the skies ? Let once the canker worm the bud assail. And who but fools will battle with decay ? Above or here below what can avail When Death in such a striphng finds a prey ? ^The youth's name was Johanu Christian Wecliherlin. 136 POEMS OF SCHILLER His early years slid by with flying feet, Each day a rosy-coloured garment wore, And — ah ! to him the world was very sweet, The future promised an enchanting store. He saw a life of Paradise unfold. And all things glitter in eternal gold. Yet even as the mother's tear-drop fell, The realms of Death before him opened wide ; The fatal threads were severed, and the spell Swept heaven and earth relentlessly aside. Thoughts of the grave in vain he would defy - Ah ! sweet the world to those about to die ! Deaf is that narrow house, and silence reigns. Its tenant's slumbers are prolonged and deep ; No scope for thine exalted hope remains, Beloved brother, in this endless sleep. Oft in the sunshine basks thy favourite hill. But what to thee are those inspiring rays ? Though to the breeze the flowers curtsey still, Their rustle nothing to thine ear conveys. Thy glance will sparkle never more with love, In thine embrace no bride will ever sigh. And though our tears a very torrent prove, Thine eyes must close for ever — thou must die. Yet not amiss ! — Well earned is thy repose; At peace thou art within thy straight domain ; Thy pleasures perish, but no less thy woes. And thou hast respite from this world of pain. Over thee now calumnious tongues may wag. Temptation issue from its poisoned well, The sleek-faced Pharisee may smirk and brag, And hypocrites consign thy soul to hell. Swindlers through apostolic masks may leer, And stern uprightness' bastard daughter play, POEMS OF SCHILLER 137 Throwing the dice of chance, with mortals here, And on for ever to the Judgment day. And may Dame Fortune on thy steps attend, As on her favourites she loves to fawn ; One moment men a tottering throne ascend, Anon behold them through a quagmire drawn. Eest thou at peace within thy narrow grave ! This tragi-comical extravagance. This hazard borne on a tempestuous wave, This stupid lottery — this game of chance, This idle throng which does but seem to toil. The weary tasks which counterfeits repose, Brother ! — From all this hellish Heaven recoil. On sights like these thine eyes for ever close. Farewell, thou trusty confidant, farewell, Our loving blessings gently round thee soar ! Slumber in peace in thy sepulchral cell. Slumber in peace until we meet once more ! Till o'er these hills swelling with human clay The trumpet of th' Omnipotent shall sound. And, Death's benumbing fetters swept away, Before God's blast the startled corpses bound ; Until, impregnated with God's own Ijreath, The graves bring forth : and at the blare of doom, Amid the smoke of bursting planets. Death The very dead surrenders from the tomb. Though not in worlds imagined by the wise, Nor yet in heavens, as the bards pretend. Nor in some artificial Paradise — Yet we shall overtake thee in the end. Can it be true that, as the Pilgrim said. Beyond the tomb there still is room for thought ? That virtue o'er the grave a bridge can spread ? Or are these fancies which must count for nought ? 138 POEMS OF SCHILLER To thee these mysteries are now laid bare, Aud Truth refreshes thiue euraptured soul, The very Truth, illumined by the glare Which flashes from th' Almighty Father's bowL Advance, thou grim aud silent bearer train, E'en he nmst garnish the Avenger's board ! Cease your laments and from your cries abstain, Let dust on dust over the mound be poured ! Who is the man to question God's decree ? And whose the eye th' abysses to explore ? God of the dismal tomb, we worship thee. But tremble, shuddering, as we adore. Dust may in dust again its fellow find, But from its crumbling home the soul will fly ; His ashes may be scattered to the wind, His love remains for ever and for aye. THE BATTLE. In solid grim array. Like a storm-cloud moist and gray. They stagger on their march across the plain, Through the never-ending zone Where the iron dice are thrown : A stealthy backward glance who can restrain ? Hearts almost beat aloud. When before the pale-faced crowd The Major sharply gallops to the front. Halt! The ranks respond to the abrupt command. Silent and motionless the regiments stand. What is that, in the dawning glow, Glimmering over the height ? POEMS OF SCHILLER 139 Do the enemy's standards show ? Yes, they are well in sight. God be with you, wife and child ! Do they sing as they come ? Hark to the scream of their piping wild And the rolling of the drum ! A burst of barbaric, melodious tone : It curdles the marrow and shivers the bone ! God keep you, comrades, in His love Till we meet again in the world above ! Lightning flashes seem to glare, Crashing thunders split the air. Eyelids quiver 'neath the blast. Watchwords through the hosts are passed. Be it so ! The watchwords tell ; Bolder now our bosoms swell. Death stalks abroad : an iron hail Pours through the murky sulphur veil. In grim embrace the hosts are locked. " Ready ! " 's the word ; the guns are cocked. Kneehng the foremost rank Fires ; some fall to rise no more. Volleys of grape in torrents pour. Yet filled is every blank. Death right and left and all around ; Whole regiments welter on the ground. The sun goes down, yet still they fight. And over the army descends the night. God keep you, comrades, in His love Till we meet again in the world above ! The living mingle with the dead. On corpses falls the stumbling tread. MO POEMS OF SCHILLER And spouting streams of blood descend. — " What, Frank, thou there ? My Charlotte greet, good friend ! " (Wilder the tide of battle rolled.) " I will ! " But oh, my lads, behold ! The grape is bursting in our rear ! " Thy Charlotte I will greet, friend ; have no fear ; Eepose in peace ! Where most the bullets fly. Forlorn and friendless, comrade, there stand I." Hither, thither sways the light. Dark over the army broods the night. God keep you, comrades, in His love Till we meet again in the world above ! Ha ! what was that went crashing by ? In every direction the gallopers fly. The dragoons are right in the thick of the foe, And his murderous thunders feebler grow. Comrades, 'tis Victory ! Their craven limbs in terror quail, And in the dust his standards trail. Decided is the bloody fight ; Victorious day dispels the night ! The rolling drums, the fifers shrill — The air with strains of triumph fill ! Farewell, dear comrades, who linger here : We shall meet again in another sphere ! FEIENDSHIP. The maker of the Universe, my friend, Finds not in little thoughts themselves an end, Ranged in laborious and ordered row. The fly-wheel once in motion, it will turn POEMS OF SCHILLER 141 (As my dear Newtou failed not to discern) Pinions in realms above and those below. It drives the spheres with overmastering rein, The world's great heart in fetters to enchain, As in their labyrinthine course they ghde — And spirit-forms, in intertwining throng, Toward the great master-spirit press along, As press the rivers to the ocean tide. And was it not this influence divine Which knit our hearts for ever — thine and mine — In an exultant fellowship of love ? Ah ! Kaphael, leaning on thine arm, e'en I Dare press in glad, confiding ecstasy To the great master-spirit up above. Ah ! happy moment, when I found thy trace, Held thee, 'mid millions, in my fond embrace ; (For amid millions thou alone art mine.) Even if Chaos split the world in twain, Yet kindred atoms will unite again ; Happen what may, our spirits will combine. ROUSSEAU. A MONUMENT to point our Age's shame, A blot for ever on thy country's fame, Grave of Rousseau, to me thou art right dear! Over thy ruined life may quiet reign — That quiet peace thyself had sought in vain — Quiet and peace at least thou findest here ! When will these ancient wounds be covered o'er ? The wise oft perished in dark days of yore ; 142 POEMS OF SCHILLER Now days are brighter, yet they die as then. Socrates to the Sophists fell a prey, Rousseau yields to the Christian s of to-day ; — Eousseau ! — who out of Christians fashioned men. Mine own voluptuous joy I recognise Truly reflected in thy flasliing eyes. I marvel at myself — in thee ! The earth is painted in still warmer tints, And my beloved's attitude imprints On heaven itself his own divinity. Its darker moods dejection lightly cheers By throwing off her heavy load of tears On to the gentle breast of love divine. Why, do not even rapture's torturing throes In thine eyes' eloquence bespeak repose — And find therein a lasting, happy shrine ? If in the Universe I stood alone, I would imagine souls in every stone, And each with ravishing caresses greet. The winds of heaven should hear my bitter cry, And if the abysses only made reply, Fool that I am ! — still, sympathy is sweet ! Insensate bodies are we when we hate — Gods, when in love our anger we abate ! After the gentle thrall of bonds we yearn ! Up and along the many-threaded course Of countless souls, which lack creative force. The overmastering impulse bids us turn. So, arm in arm, in lofty course we steer Down from tlie Mongol to the Grecian seer, (Nearest of kinsmen to the Seraph host). And on with rhythmical accord we sweep. POEMS OF SCHILLER 143 Till in the glory of the eternal deep The sense of Time and Measurement is lost. Unfriended was the ruler of the skies : He felt his need, and bade the Spirits rise His glory, mirror-like, to testify. No peer that wondrous Being ever knew ; From the vast cup of Spirit-hfe he drew The foaming opulence — Eternity ! THE FUGITIVE. Fkesh rustles the morning's enhvening breeze ; The newly-born light through the gloom of the trees Eight rosily peeps ; through the bushes it shines, And wmks in the glades of the sorrowful pines. The cloud-capped mountains raise Their heads in golden blaze. In happy, melodious, twittering tone The awakening larks pay their court to the Sun, As he smilingly rises with juvenile grace, Aglow with the thrill of Aurora's embrace. Ah ! blessed ye beams, Whose irradiance streams In cherishing warmth over pasture and plain. What a silvery tint On the fields as they glint Like thousands of suns from the dewdrops again ! In the genial shade, Like a frolicsome maid, Young Nature is caught at her play. The breeze interposes, And coaxes the roses, And sprinkles an odorous balm on its way. 144 POEMS OF SCHILLER Tall curtains of smoke o'er the cities are wreathing ; And neighing and snorting and stamping and breathing Come horses and kine : The wagons inchne Towards the billowy vale. To life the wood springs ; Hawk, falcon, and eagle unfetter their wings, And balance and poise in the beams as they sail. Ah ! where may I hope For repose, as 1 grope And totter along in despair ? The world may be glad, But my heart remains sad, For 'tis only a grave which is there. Arise, thou rosy morning light, and tinge With purple kiss the wooded plain unfurled ; And may the blush of gentle even fringe The peaceful slumbers of the dying world. Morning ! alas, thy gilded hue O'er a death-haunted prospect glows. And rays of evening but bedew My everlasting deep repose. THE FLOWERS. Ye children of the youthful Sun, Ye flowers of the varied field. In bliss your early days were run. And Nature's kiss your childhood sealed ; Clad in embroidery of light. And by fair Flora's hands bedight. Godlike, with every radiant hue. And yet, my children, ye must sigh. POEMS OF SCHILLER 145 For Flora did a soul deny, And darkness must your life imbrue. Lark and nightingale may sing In your ears with loving plea, Twinkhug, amorous sylphs may cling Wantonly about your knee. Aphrodite's self may trace Calyx crowns your heads to grace, As on love they cushioned He. Yet, my children, ye must weep : — Love with all its feelings deep She has chosen to deny. But, though my mother's stern command Forbids my darling to behold. Yet when in my ecstatic hand Thy dainty love-pledge I enfold, Then life and speech and soul and heart, From contact, into being start, Tokens of calm and soothing grief. Then all that highest Heaven sends Within your gentle petals blends, And brings divine relief. TO SPRING. Hail in thy youthful beauty, In Nature's fairest mien ! With flowery baskets laden. Be welcome on the scene ! What ho ! art thou returning, Who art so bhthe and gay ? Then heartily we greet thee, And meet thee on the way. 146 POEMS OF SCHILLER Bethink thee of my maiden ; Ah, dear one, dost thou mind ? That maiden loved me dearly, And still that maid is kind. Full many a little flower I begged for her from thee — Once more I come entreating What will thine answer be ? Hail in thy youthful beauty, In Nature's fairest mien ! With flowery baskets laden, Be welcome on the scene ! TO MINNA. Am I dreaming ? Is mine eye Dimmed ? Do I distinctly see ? What! My Minna passing by. And she will not look at me ! On some dandy's arm to glide. With a flippant fan to play. Lost in vanity and pride — That is not my Minna's way. On her dainty bonnet toss Lordly plumes — my gift they were. Bows which o'er her bosom cross Whisper : " Minna, have a care ! " Flowers which myself I grew On her hair and breast are spread : Ah ! that breast has proved untrue, Yet the flowers are not dead ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 147 Go, thy flatterers at thy side ! Let me from thy memory fade. Veual toadies are thy guide ; I despise thee, fickle maid. Go ! For thee beat once a heart. Throbbing to a noble key ; Now it knows the bitter smart Of adoring fools hke thee. In thy beauty's wrecked remains I behold thee all forlorn, Doomed, in these thy present pains, Happy days of youth to mourn. Swallows whicli in Spring-time pair riy before the Northern blast. Gathering years your wooers scare, And your friend aside is cast. Those who once for Minna's kiss With enraptured fervour sighed, Now thy vanished beauty miss. And thy drooping years deride. Shall not I, then, mock thee too ? Mock thee, Minna ? — God forefend ! Rather bitter tears and true O'er my Minna will I spend. THE DIGNITY OF MANHOOD. I AM a Man ! Who more than I ? If any, let him spring Into the light of God's free sky. And frisk his best and sing. God's own presentment I can claim, And can tlie die display ; 148 POEMS OF SCHILLER The bourn from which the heavens came I know, nor fear the way. And well that I both dare and can ; Let but a maiden pass, My spirit cries : — Thou art a Man ! And so I kiss the lass. A blush comes o'er the maiden fair, Her bodice grows too tight ; I am a Man, she is aware — That's why her dress is tight. How does she scream for grace if I Surprise her deshabille ! I am a Man ! Why did she cry ? She wishes me no ill. I am a Man ! It is enough, And in that name I dare A Kaiser's daughter to rebufif, Despite the rags I wear. Princesses at this golden spell Their charms to me unfold : Dost hear them call ? — Ha, mark it well, Ye varlets clad in gold ! I am a Man ! That ye may know When I my lyre install ; With triunipli tones it seems to glow, Else would it only crawl. From out this same creative fount In which we men have birth, Powers divine and genius mount — All that is great on earth. POEMS OF SCHILLER 149 Tyrants my talisman abhors, And spurns beneath its tread ; Or, failing that, as guide explores The regions of the dead. By Granicus my talisman Laid the proud Persian low, And when Rome German soil o'erran, Rome's might could overthrow. How proud the Roman looks, since first To Africa he came ! With fiery darts his eyeballs burst, As Hecla belches flame. Then comes a knave of jolly mien, And to the world he cries : " Proclaim that ye have Marius seen Where Carthage ruined lies ! " So cries the Roman in his pride, Still mighty in his fall. A man he is, and nought beside, Yet domineers o'er all. His grandsons thereupon began Their heritage to drain, And set to work, just as one man. To crow in dulcet strain. Shame on the miserable horde ! Wretches who treat in jest Man's lofty rights, man's high reward, Great heaven's very best. They saunter aimlessly through life. Like pumpkins rudely fraught 150 POEMS OF SCHILLER As human heads by yokel's knife, And in then- skulls is — nought. As in retorts a chemist tries An alcoholic wine, Their spirit to the devil flies, And they remain supine. A woman's look their souls unman, They dread to meet her eye ; And if they dared — yet never can Why, they had better die. And so an honest man they fear, His fortune gives them pain ; Who cannot make a man, can ne'er For man love entertain. And so I hold my head on high, And plume myself, and sing : — I am a Man ! Who more than I ! And frisk my best and sing. TO A MOEALIST. Why check youth's ardour with thy dull advice, And teach that love is labour thrown away ? Thou shiverst there amid the Winter's ice And speakst, contemptuous, of Golden May. Time was when thou didst storm the maidens' charms, — A hero of the waltzing crowd, forsooth — Carried a heaven-born burden in thine arms, And sippedst nectar from the hps of youth. POEMS OF SCHILLER 151 If at that moment this terrestrial ball From its accustomed axis had been thrown, 'Tis likely thou wouldst ne'er have heard it fall, Absorbed iu Julia's blandishments alone. Look back, then, kindly on that happy state Even Philosophy will falter when The ageing pulses in their course abate : — Immortals never yet were born of men ! 'Tis well when wisdom, clarified by years, Infusions of some warm young blood receives. Leave it to denizens of higher spheres To accomplish that which mortal ne'er achieves. And yet my earthly counsellor delights My heaven-begotten spirit to enchain. He will not let me rise to Angel heights, Let me as man, then, follow in his train. THE GEIM COUNT EBERHAED OF WURT- TEMBERG. Attend, I say, all ye who can ! I'll have you understand That many a right worthy man. And heroes ever in the van, Were born in Suabia's land. Edward and Charles I disregard : Frederick and Louis — Tush ! Why, all the set I would discard ; — Give me our Count of Eberhard, Fierce as the storm-cloud's rush. 152 POEMS OF SCHILLER And Ulrich too, his worthy son, Who loved the clash of steel ; By Ulrich, fighting once begun, No forward step was e'er undone In battle's dread appeal. The Reutlingers at our array Vow vengeance loud and deep, Keen for the laurels of the day ; Eight valiantly their sabres play, Or from their girdles peep. He fell upon them — but in vain. And came bespattered home. His father glanced in fierce disdain ; The youthful warrior fled amain. And tears began to come. ■"O^ Abide, ye rogues ! he cried, beware ! (Ashamed and smarting sore) For by my father's beard I swear This trifling error to repair And steep in burghers' gore. And soon the tumult raged again, And men and horses pressed To Doffingeu with clanging train : Scarce could the youth his fury chain, And shouted with the best. Passed was the watchword of the day — It was " the battle lost." Like whirlwinds whistled round the fray, And smeared with blood we forced our way Amid the Lancer host. POEMS OF SCHILLER 153 With lion rage the youthful knight Tosses his gleaming brand ; Before him wildly heaves the fight, Behind him oaths and groans unite, Lo, death on every hand. Ah ! woe is me, a sabre slash Full on his neck descends. His comrades haste to tend the gash, In vain, — His teeth unconscious gnash, And his last breath he spends. The victor's onward path was stayed, Wept friend and foe ahke. Then did the Count his knights upbraid : " Like other men my son is made ! Forward, my sons, and strike ! " With doubled rage the lances ply, All hearts for vengeance thrill ; Heap upon heap the bodies lie, Until pell-mell the burghers fly O'er wood and dale and hill. Then back with merry trumpet sound Into the camp we came ; And old and young with joyful bound Danced as the foaming cup went round, Our triumph to proclaim. But our old Count — ay, what of him, Confronted with his dead ? Within his tent, alone and grim, He sits and views with eyelids dim Tlie son whose soul has fled. 154 POEMS OF SCHILLER And thus it is we deeply rue Our lord, whom we have lost ; The thuuders did his arms endue, Him as our country's star we knew — Himself a hero-host ! Then, hearken to me all who can ! I'll have you understand That many a right worthy man, And heroes ever in the van, Were born in Suabia's land. THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA. (Imitated from an ancient poet.) It comes, it comes — the haughty Southern fleet (The very ocean 'neath its weight complains). Bearing a brand-new God, who has his seat 'Mid thousand thunders and the clank of chains. Of frowning citadels a floating host (Its equal never stemmed the ocean's tides), Invincible men call it, as it glides Over the frighted waters toward the coast. Terror gives meaning to the boastful name, Terror its mien and attitude proclaim. Onward in slow and stately guise it pressed (And Neptune staggering his burden bore). The end of all things hidden in its breast, And, as it neared, the tempest ceased to roar. Great-hearted Britain, mistress of the deep. Before thy shores the hostile navies stand. And threaten with their countless hosts to sweep From end to end thy happy, sea-girt land ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 155 Woe to thy free-boru race ! A thimder cloud, Pregnant with ill, hangs o'er it like a shroud. Who was it that tliis priceless treasure gained. And made thee Queen of all the nations round ? It was thyself, by tyrant kings constrained, Who that supremest law of empire found — That glorious charter, which thy princes brings Down to the ranks, lifts citizens to kings. A milUon foes thine undisputed might At sea has vanquished in unequal fight. Let neighbouring peoples own with one accord Thy spirit wrought it and thy trusty sword ! Unhappy land ! Before these ponderous keels With thunders charged, thine aacient glory reels ; The very earth stands gazing with affright. And all free hearts beat faster at the sight, And noble souls await with sorrowing shame Th' impending ruin of thine ancient fame. But God almighty, watching from on high, Saw thy foe's lion-blazoned ensigns wave. " Shall I," said He, " commit without a sigh Mine own dear Albion to a certain grave, Witness the fall of this heroic stock Which stems oppression like a wall of rock, Suffer extinction from this rolHng sphere Of the one dam 'gainst Tyranny's career ? " " Never," He cried, " this cradle of the Free, This home of manly valour shall go down ! " Th' Almighty breathed, and over every sea, To every wind the Armada's might was strown.^ iThe last two lines refer to the medal which Queen Elizabeth caused to be struck in commemoration of her victory. It repre- sents a fleet founderins: in a storm, and bears the inscription, Afflavit Deus, et dissipati sunt. 156 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE GODS OF GREECE. What time the happy world was guided, Ye Gods, by your indulgent hand, When over happy men presided Fair beings born of Fable-land, Ah ! what another age existed When your mysterious rites were paid, When garlands for thy shrines were twisted, Venus, enchanting Cyprian maid. When luminous imagination Wrapped Truth in Fiction's airy fold, Then life's blood flowed throughout creation. And, wavelike, o'er its limits rolled. In nature then a nobler merit Man recognised with grateful love, And all things felt the hallowed spirit, Whose charm betrayed the Gods above. Where now, if we shall trust the sages. Insensate whirls an orb of fire. There Hehos in far-of!' ages, Majestic, drove his golden tire. Nymphs sported in these mountain passes, A Dryad dwelt in yonder tree. While winsome Naiads from their vases The silver-twinkling burns set free. Good service wrought these laurel buslies, Sleeps Niobe in yonder stone. Sad Syrinx wails amid those rushes, This grove hears Philomela's moan. When her Persephone was ravished, This brook received Demeter's tears. POEMS OF SCHILLER 157 And here Cythera vainly lavished Her suasion on unheeding ears. ■o The Gods themselves their homage yielded To daughters sprung of Pyrrha's race, And for their sakes Hyperion wielded The shepherd's crook with lowly grace. For then were Heroes, Gods, and Mortals United in the bond of love ; Equal in Amathusiau portals, Men bowed with those who rule above. All sceptic gloom and duluess vanished Where your inspiring cult was known ; Untuneful souls were rightly banished, And glad contentment ruled alone. Then Beauty for itself was treasured ; No need your godlike joys to rein While blushing Nymphs and Graces measured The hmits of your happy chain. Your shrines were decked in gayest dressing, The Heroes in your honour strove, And for the Isthmian laurels pressing, Intent, the thundering chariots drove. The changing dance in briglit procession Before your glowing altars wound. And triumph-crowns with light oppression Your free and fragrant tresses bound. - ^o"- The thyrsus-bearers' cries are pealing, The leopards in their harness strain. And Fauns and Satyrs, gaily reeling. Herald the jolly Bacchus' train. Half-frenzied Ma?nads wildly crying. The glories of the wdne-cup boast 158 POEMS OF SCHILLER In words and action, ever plying With fuller bowls their willing host. No grisly spectre dared to sadden The parting mortal at his death, For angel-guards were there to gladden, Then quenched the flame with loving breath. Necessity by airy visions Was measured on a kinder scale. And even Destiny's decisions Seemed milder through a human veil. The friends of yore were reunited On still Elysium's shadowy plain ; True lover's vows afresh are plighted, The victor's team careers again. Once more the wail of Linus rises, Her spouse reviews Alceste's charms, His friend Orestes recognises. And Philoctetes finds his arms. With worthier prize was he commended Who trod the stony path of right, And Heroes, when their course was ended. Shared with the blest eternal hght. The Gods with silent acquiescence Beheld tlie summoned dead depart ; On high the great Twin bretlireu's presence Gave courage to the pilot's heart. Farewell ! Thou happy world, whose graces Attested nature's earhest Spring ; Now can we only seek tliy traces As fable tells and fairies sing. Alas ! the happy scene has vanished, Before me yawns an empty frame ; POEMS OF SCHILLER 159 The godhead, from the picture banished, Leaves but a shade, a thought, a name. Those buds have all untimely perished Before the scathing Northern blast. Farewell, ye Gods, so dearly cherished ; Ye pass away that One may last. In vain I seek with sad devotion Selene in the starry dome ; The woods reply not, and the ocean, Unheeding, churns th' eternal foam. Blind to the joy which she dispenses, And careless of her own great name, Unconscious that my yearning senses Demand her all-inspiring flame ; Whose pulse no longer Art can waken. Blank as the stroke which marks the hour, Nature herself, by God forsaken, Bows, slavish, to a soulless power. ^ Behold ! to-day her grave she hollows, To-morrow sees her rise anew ; Month upon mouth serenely follows, The days march on in order due. The Gods depart, in sorrowing token That happy childhood is outgrown ; The leading-strings at length are broken. The ungrateful world can soar alone. All lovely form with them was taken To grace the home whence erst they came ; So was the world by Art forsaken, And Beauty left us but her name. 17. e. , the power of gravitation. [6o POEMS OF SCHILLER The Gods on Pindus' heights find leisure, Untroubled by the tide of time ; And Fancy, crushed by life's stern pressure, Lives but in Poetry sublime. A CELEBKATED WOMAK Shall I condole, my friend ? — Dost rue With curses deep thy marriage bond ? And why ? — Because thy spouse untrue Has found in other arms more fond That which in thine was not her share ? Hear others' woes ere thou despond. And learn thy lighter grief to bear. Dost grumble that in thy domains Another shares ? — Why, lucky man, My wife to the whole human race pertains. Eight from the Belt to the Moselle, To Apennine's abysses fell, Where fashions their precedence keep ; In every booth she's offered cheap ; In diligences, on the deep, She must the curious muster pass Of every pedant, every ass. And brave the cad's censorious glass ; And, as some petty critic may control. On flowers trips or treads on burning coal — Pantheon, or the pillory, her goal. A Leipzig man — God grant he have his due — Took her dimensions, off'ered her for sale In fragments to the jmblic by retail — Fragments which I — but, sure, none other — knew. Thy wife, thanks to the canon, is aware That 'tis an honour thy good name to bear ; POEMS OF SCHILLER i6i She uuderstauds, and her good sense is shown. (As " Ninon's liusband " only I am known.) You say that at the tables, in the pit, Your entry rouses each malicious wit ; Fortunate man, the world might envy thee Such luck as that. — Why, brother, as for me — A whey-cure had the fortune to provide An honoured place for me at her left side. On me no kind of interest is spent, While on my better half all eyes are bent. The dawn scarce shows its crest, When the stairs creak 'ueath blue and yellow coats. With unstamped letters, packages, and notes. To " the illustrious lady " all addressed. I must arouse her, calmly though she lies : — " Madam, the papers — Berlin, Jena news ! " At once the lovely sleeper raised her eyes, And pounced with eager glance on the reviews. The fair blue eye — never a look for me — Skims through some stupid puerility — (Screams in the children's nursery she hears) Pausing, she asks, how are the little dears ? And now her toilet waits. But side-looks only at the glass she flings. And mutters sullen, discontented threats Which give her terrified attendant wings. The Graces from her dressing-table fly, And where fair Cupids should their office ply, A band of Furies in attendance springs. Anon the carriage-folk approach, And lackeys spring from every coach. The perfumed abbot, the seigneurial lord, The Briton (who the German tongue ignored), i62 POEMS OF SCHILLER Gossing & Co., the Messrs. Thingumbob, — All wish with the great lady to hobnob. With what a supercilious eye they stare To see a thing — a husband — crouching there ! Here may the dullest flat, the seediest wight, (Dare your wife's friend as much ?) express delight, And as admirers of the fair one pose ; And this, withal, before my very nose. I must look on, and, merely to behave, His precious " company to dine " must crave. At table, friend, begins my misery. Short work is made of my poor cellar's store ; Burgundy (which the doctor bans for me) Down their approving gullets I must pour. My hard-earned daily bread I must subscribe To stuff this greedy, parasitic tribe. This immortality — confound its ways ! — With my good Niersteiuer havoc plays. Away with all who use the printing-press ! And what my meed of thanks? I bid thee guess — A shrug, a gesture, some unmaunered bluff — Dost understand? — Oh, I see plain enough ! Who such a woman — such a priceless gem — To live with such a noodle would condemn ? Spring-time approaches, and fair Nature flings Her varied tapestry o'er glade and field ; A kindly green the shrubs and flowers yield. Loud trills the lark ; to life the forest springs. — To her no more the Spring appeals ; The songstress of our pleasures gay, Of groves where we were wont to play. Now nothing to her heart reveals. The nightingales ! — they cannot read ; The lilies ! — they can not admire ; And Nature's triumphs, as they plead, POEMS OF SCHILLER 163 Do but an epigram inspire. To travelling the time of year invites ; — Why, Pyrmont must just now be crowded out ; In praise of Carlsbad every one unites — And there she is, amid the motley rout, Where princely riband, doctor's gown. With every kind of fashion blends ; Show themselves off, strut up and down, And seem to be the best of friends. From many climes they come with languid zeal, Their tattered virtue of its wounds to heal. — Learn thine advantage, friend ; there strolls my wife, And seven orphans palms on me for life ! Ah ! my first love — my young romantic days ! How quickly have ye vanished from the scene ! A paragon, beyond all human praise — Such was my wife — a goddess in her mien. Of brilliant wit, expansive mind. She was of character refined. I gladly bore her soft control, And by her playful side reclined. The words — "I love thee, thou art mine ! " Sprang eloquently from her eyes : I led her to the sacred shrine, And who so happy with his prize ? A vista of entrancing years Mirrored before me seemed to rise. And open lay the very spheres. I saw fair children gambol round With circling dance her kindly knee — The fairest of the circle she — Her heart with mine in harmony, Our souls for ever firmly bound. l64 POEMS OF SCHILLER And then appeared — oh, cursed be his name ! — A mighty man of quite superior cast. This mighty genius did but breathe a blast, And down my house of cards in atoms came. What have I left ? — Ah ! transformation fell ! As from me fades the intoxicating spell, What of my angel now remains ? A virile spirit, but arrayed In sexless form — nor man nor maid, Not fit to love, nor hold the reins ; A child in giant's armour clad, A mean betwixt the wise and mad. Who has renounced her native grace In coarser scenes to find a place. Down from her throne-hke pinnacle of fame She falls, and quits her dear mysterious home. Struck out from Cytherea's golden tome,^ To earn — a sorry newspaper acclaim. LINES WEITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM. Like a fair child, with merry native jest, My dear young friend, the world around thee plays ; Yet think not that the character impressed Upon thy heart, and mirrored in its rays Presents the truth. — The silent reverence Which from thy soul's nobility has grown, The marvels of thine own omnipotence, The living grace, essentially thine own, — These thou dost count as hfe's habitual prize iThe " Goldeu Book" i. e., the Roll of Nobility, as kept in the Italian Republics. POEMS OF SCHILLER 165 Promiscuously granted to mankind. If he exist, let me the mortal find Who youth's untainted magic can despise, Or to the charm of innocence be blind. How dost thou revel in the fragrant band Of flowers which around thy footsteps press, Of souls beatified at thy command, Which spell-bound, thine ascendency confess ! Remain, then, happy in thy fond conceit. And may no wakenii;ig illusion cheat The stately tenour of thy dream's caress. As in thy beds the shining flowers blaze, Thy fancies plant — but with averted gaze ! Watch them, indeed, but never venture nigh ; They do but hve to satisfy the eye. E'en at thy feet they end their little day : — The nearer thee, the nearer to decay ! THE ARTISTS. Man, to what dignity dost thou attain, Marking the Century's descending plane In all the glory of thy prime ; Of spirit cultivated and refined. Of gentle mien, but of determined mind, The ripest son thou art of Time ; Of large discretion, yet by rule impressed, In meekness strong, and of a prize possessed Of which thy conscience long was unaware ; Lord of fair Nature, who thy chains adores. Who in a thousand tests thy strength explores. And quits the wilderness thy fate to share ! Intoxicated by the triumph gained, Do not forget to thank the kindly hand l66 POEMS OF SCHILLER Which found thee orphaned, wandering at large In tears along life's solitary marge, Found thee a veritable toy of chance, But breathed upon thee Arts' divine romance, And silently thy youthful heart inspired ; Taught thee to bind in a controlhug chain Passions which might thy tender conscience stain. With easy touch the highest virtues taught, Showed that sublime perfection might be sought In simple parables and there acquired. That hand remember which, on teaching bent, Its darling to the hands of strangers lent ; Ah ! to the mistress, Art, be ever true. And never stoop her waiting-maids to woo ! The bee for diligence the palm may bear, The worm can teach thee aptitude and zeal. Thy learning with the spirits thou mayst share. But Art, man, can but to thee appeal. Through beauty's morning gate thou foundest place. In lands where knowledge holds her sturdy sway, And Wisdom dons the attributes of grace And learns to pose in delicate array. The stirring spirit of the Muses' lyre Which all thy chords with sweet emotion thrilled Woke in thy slumbering heart the natural fire And knowledge of the universe instilled. That which deliberate Eeason understood When whole millenniums had passed away, A symbol of the beautiful and good To infant faculties discovered lay. Its fair presentment bade us love the right, Its gentle image battled against crime, Ere ever Solon did his laws indite, Slowly to ripen in the lap of time. POEMS OF SCHILLER 167 Before philosophers had learned to peer Into the wonders of eternal space, Did any gaze upon the starry sphere And not in awe his boldest thoughts abase ? Urania in her tremendous state Wearing Orion's glories on her brow, Visible only to the good and great — Pure spirits, who her majesty avow — Urania sweeps above the starry spheres, And, with her flaming chaplet laid aside, Upon her sun-illumined throne appears — Beauty personified — our hght and guide. With every attribute of grace endued, Her childlike innocence appeals to youth, And that which is to-day as Beauty viewed Anon will prove to be the very Truth. When the Creator banished from His sight Poor man, and immortality denied. And bade him struggle back as best he might With laboured mental efi'ort to his side, When all the gods had turned away in scorn, She to his aid with impulse warm repaired. And with the exiled fugitive forlorn His mortal troubles generously shared. Here upon tranquil pinion she sways About her darling, where the Senses dwell, And with affectionate deceit portrays Elysium upon his prison cell. What time, supported in that soft embrace, Tender Humanity such nursing knew, No murder legalised could show its face. No guiltless blood the smoking soil imbrue. The heart which she in gentle fetters guides The slavish leading-strings of duty spurns ; i68 POEMS OF SCHILLER , The twinkling of her sinuous path subsides Where'er Morahty's effulgence burns. Those who to her their modest service yield, No meanness recognise, no perils fear ; With power from above their hearts are steeled — Before them lies the Spirit-world revealed. In all the freedom which they hold so dear. Most fortunate of all the myriads those — And purest — who her loving cult maintain, Whose lips the mighty Being's thoughts disclose, Within whose bosom she elects to reign ; Who tend her altars, and by her desire Cherish the inextinguishable fire ; Unveiled she stands before their favoured eyes. And draws them to her with bewitching ties ! Rejoice, then, in the honourable state To which by lofty rule ye are ordained, The glories of the Spirit-world attained, The highest posts humanity await ! Before proportion to the world ye brought — Proportion, which all essences obey — A shapeless building stood with darkness fraught, Illumined only by a feeble ray ; The tumult of a visionary host. Bound all the senses in a captive chain, And in its turn, to gentle manners lost. The foe a thousand various missiles hurled, — Thus to the savage was portrayed the world. Only by undiscerning passions bound To the phenomena which crowded round, He failed the soul of Nature to descry. And let her pass unmarked, untasted by. Yet as on fluttering wings away she fled, Ye strained after the vision's friendly Shade POEMS OF SCHILLER 169 With tender hope and reverential hand, And learned that o'er that blithe, harmoniou.s band The toils of fellowship were lightly shed. And more ethereal became your glance, Marking the pliant cedar's lofty crest Lovingly pictured on fair Ocean's breast. And shimmering as the crystal ripples dance. How could ye fail those lessons to descry Which Nature in such friendly measure gave ? For she bade Art with her own image vie, Learning from that reflection on the wave ; From her own being sundered, of free will. Her fairy form she cast upon the stream. Mirrored upon its dancing silver gleam. And yielded to the imitator's skill. So the fair craft within tliy breast awoke. The sacred image which thou had'st conceived In sand, in plastic clay thou didst invoke, And Art's sublime existence was achieved. The charm of labour did your soul arrest. The first creation harboured in thy breast. Beneath your constant observation held. And ever marked by your all-curious eye, Those gentle visions found themselves impelled To yield the talisman for which ye sigh. The wondrous laws which Beauty can impose. The marvels which her treasuries disclose, Were knit together in a single band By the light touch of your inquiring hand. Rose obelisk and pyramid on high, Upstood the Hermes, and the pillar sprang ; From woodland reeds melodious numbers rang, And doughty feats were told in minstrelsy. The choicest blossoms of the flowery field With dainty judgment in one posy found — I70 POEMS OF SCHILLER So first did Nature Art's addresses yield, So were the posies in one garlaud bound ; More subtly did th' artistic sense expand Beneath the touch of man's creative hand. The child of beauty, perfect of its kind, Shaped and completed by your loving skill, Loses the wreaths which round its temples wind As with Reality it learns to thrill. The pillar, yielding to Proportion's law, Must with its neighbours form a common chain, The hero must amid the ranks withdraw, Inspiring, clashes the Mseonian strain. Then the Barbarians in wonder came, These new creations curious to scan : " See," you might hear their jovial hosts exclaim, " All this is fashioned by the hand of man ! " In happy, careless, sociable array Agape they crowded round the minstrel's lyre, And while he still attuned his rousing lay Of Titans, umrderous beasts, and giant fray, So long did lofty thoughts their souls inspire. Thus first the soul to real bliss is stirred, Awakened thus to calm, reposeful joy. Borne from a distant sphere, without alloy. Existence by no crying need is blurred ; Quiet remains, and pleasures do not cloy. Now, shaking off its sensuous repose. To freedom sprang th' emancipated mind ; Released by you, the careworn slave arose, Sought happiness and left his cares behind. Mere brute existence with its narrow scope Came to an end ; man's noble brow was plain, The glorious alien, Reason, ceased to grope, And bounded from the free and startled brain. POEMS OF SCHILLER 171 Then did man stand, aud to the stars upturned The kingly lineaments which now he wore ; His radiant eye beneath the sunbeams burned And boundless space delighted to explore. His features glowed with a contented smile, The soul-inspired music of his cry Bursting in song, his moments would beguile. And feeling glistened in his softened eye. His quickened lips in happy blend expressed Now serious tones and now some merry jest. Working in darkness like the grovelling worm, And moved alone by sensuous desire, Within his swelling breast ye might admire The spiritual essence in its germ. And if his sensuous ignoble fire The glorious germ of noble love could stay. He owed it to that first Arcadian Lay. — Exalted to nobility of thought. He saw his passions to subjection brought, And from his lips harmonious measures rolled. His cheeks with liquid l)lushes were bedewed. And what remaining aims he now pursued A spiritual fellowship foretold. The wisdom of the wisest, and the might Of wasting force, retiring timid grace, All these within cue picture frame unite And glorify sweet Nature's radiant face. From the unknowable men shrank in dread. Yet clung to its reflection unaware ; And brilliant heroes burned to have it said That with the miglity one they could compare. Ye caused ideal Beauty's fairy spell Through all the bounds of Nature's realm to swell. *o' The reckless fury of the passions' play, Th' ungoverned ups and downs of changing Fate, 172 POE.MS OF SCHILLER Instinct and Duty all in disarray, Thine ordered touch did gently elevate, And firmly set upon the upward way. What Xature grasps in her majestic course, Hurls to the winds, and into tatters tears, On stage, in song alike, acquires a force Wliich shows that ordered harmony is theirs. So may ve mark the secret murderer quail Before the Furies' melancholy wail : Their solemn chant his awful doom declares. Long ere the wise could their opinion state. An Iliad had declared the mystic fate Of first antiquity, and made it plain. An d Providence in observation sat. The w^orld considering from Thespis' wain. But in the great procession of the world Your fair proportions were too soon unfurled. When Destiny, with its mysterious hand, Eefused those mighty forces to disband Which it had harmonised before thy sight, Life was enshrouded with a fatal blight Before its lovely course was fully spanned. Then, trusting to your potency alone, Your arch ye hurled across the dark unknown ; Boldly ye plunged, regardless of the cost, Into Avernus rolling through the gloom, And found that life which seemed for ever lost In resions which exist beyond the tomb. There in a blaze of undiluted light See Castor on the blooming Pollux lean ; O'er the moon's surface mark the shadow's flight Till the whole orb presents a silver sheen. Yet higher still — and to the highest spheres, Th' inventive faculty extends its sway ; POEMS OF SCHILLER 173 Creation on creation fast appears, And harmony to harmony gives way. What here can merely captivate the eye, There fashions perfect beauty at its best ; The graceful charms on which the nymphs rely, Purified there, Athene's self suggest. The power which the wrestler's muscle swells Need not the gentle deity endow ; In the Olympian shrine depicted dwells — The age's wonder — Jove's illustrious brow. The world, transfigured by laborious care, The human heart, by new emotions fanned, Which all the trials of existence share. For you Creation's limits can expand. Awakening man on swelling pinions flies, Clinging to Art the closer as he soars, And realms of beauty all unknown arise From the enlightened world's prolific stores. The narrow bounds of knowledge cUsappear ; The soul, accustomed 'neath your easy rein, Th' artistic whole of Beauty to attain With rapid and accommodating grace. Plants Nature's distant columns in their place, And passes by her on her dark career. Now man can judge her by a human scale, With weights appraise her which herself suppUes ; Now must she cast away the envious veil And manifest her glories to his eyes. With youthful satisfaction he inspires The very spheres with his harmonious strains, And if the world's construction he admires, 'Tis that symmetrical proportion reigns. 'Mid all the seething life which round him flows Dainty Proportion ever holds its place ; 174 POEMS OF SCHILLER And Beauty's golden girdle lightly throws Its fetters round him in his earthly race. The consummated work its balm bestows, And crowns your labours with triumphant grace. Where happiness is found without alloy, Wherever hides the head of silent grief, Where contemplation dwells in lonely joy, Where misery from tears invites relief. Where terrors thousandfold about him press — There follows an harmonious rippling strain ; The Graces sport in wanton idleness. And with a chastened mien and soft address Around him cast their all-entrancing chain. Softly, as lines of beauty interlace. As the phenomena, which round him play, In melting outlines give each other place. So gently fleets Ms latest breath away. His soul dissolves in the harmonious swell, His senses with voluptuous dreams are fraught, Focussing all their fading powers of thought On Cvtherea's influence to dwell. His fate estabhshed in eternity, On Muse and Grace alternate he relies, And bares his bosom with an eager cry To the impending weapon as it flies From the mild bowstring of necessity. Ye favourites of Harmony divine, Cheery companions on life's dull road, The noblest, dearest gift she can assign. Who gave us life, on us she has bestowed ! That man enlarged liis duties should pursue And love the fetters which his soul endue. That he no longer is the tool of fate — He owes it all to your eternal state. And your reward is found within your breast. If round the bowl whence thoughts of freedom swell POEMS OF SCHILLER 175 The merry deities delight to jest, If sweet deluding visions o'er it dwell, For this be lovingly caressed ! And for that Spirit whose commanding might Even Necessity with grace surrounds, Who bids his ether and the starry bounds With delicacy shed their welcome light. Who, clad in terrors, still is hailed with joy, And moves in splendour even to destroy — Him imitate, for his is Art supreme. As o'er the telltale surface of the stream The varied banks liglit-footed seem to glide, With flowers 'neath the sunset rays unfurled. So o'er hfe's trials happily preside The pleasant fictions of the Shadow world. Ye led us forth in nuptial array To where the great unknown exert their sway, To where the unrelenting Fates abide. The sorrows by the dismal choir expressed, With magic charm ye tenderly invest, As your fair urns their sacred ashes hide. A thousand thousand years I have surveyed The boundless realm of times that are gone by ; Humanity adored you while ye stayed. And your departure witnessed with a sigh ! Humanity, which on impetuous wing From your creative hand its impulse drew. In later days rejoiced again to cling To your protecting arm, as wrinkles grew. As time began to leave its certain trace, When the strong limbs were conscious of decay. And with a slow and hesitating pace The tottering graybeard hobbled on his way. Then issued bounteous from your living well A stream of life all suffering to dispel ; 176 POEMS OF SCHILLER Twice did the count of Time begin anew Thanks to the quickening seed which thou didst strew. Ejected by the wild barbarian train, Ye snatched the latest sacrificial brand From the polluted oriental fane, And bore it glowing to the western land. The exile, from his eastern setting torn, Eose, a new day, upon the western scene, And, in Hesperian surroundings born, Ionian flowers peeped in early green. A fairer Nature shed upon the soul A clear reflection well defined and bright, And o'er the favoured spirit proudly stole Th' illuminating Goddess of the Light. A thousand thousand fetters fell away, Then slaves experienced the rights of man ; 'Neath the new generation's milder sway Mankind, like brothers, owned a common clan. With inner consciousness of noble pride Ye revelled in the happiness ye wrought ; Then, veiled in modesty, ye stepped aside As though thy favours were accounted nought. If with the right to think — now all his own — Th' inquiring spirit confidently strays, And reaches prematurely for the crown. Exulting in his own triumphant praise ; Should he dismiss with a contemptuous wage His glorious leader and consummate guide, And a mere slave of higher rank engage Near Art's high throne, indifferent, to preside : — Forgive his confidence ! For even now Perfection's garland decorates your brow. Your early blossoms were the first to spring 'Neath bounteous Nature's soul-inspiring wing; POEMS OF SCHILLER 177 From you, the harvest chaplet safely won, Nature departs, her gracious duties done. Creative Art, which simple stone and clay Peoples with life, holds its victorious sway Where'er the mind can pass it in review. The learning which discoverers display. Which they have conquered, is displayed for you. The treasure which th' abstracted tliinker hoards First in your arms full recompense affords When beauty plays with science equal part — The whole ennobled as a thing of Art. When by your side some mountain he ascends And, as the setting sun with even blends, Perceives the beauteous landscape with a start. The more ye realise that hasty glance, The more will lofty creatures of romance Mingle with ordered beauties of the mind In systematic harmony combined. The more that noble sentiment and thought With higher strains of harmony are fraught. And beauty flowing in a fuller stream, — So much the more the parts of Nature's scheme, Which now a mutilated medley lie. Will shape themselves to perfect symmetry ; Fairer will mysteries from darkness rise. The world be richer which before him hes, Broader the ocean upon which he glides. Feebler the power chance alone decides. The more his aims aspire to things above. Less will he think of self, tlie more of love. So by poetic instinct he is led With undeterminate, unconscious tread. Through purer forms, striking a finer key, To beauty in its infinite degree. At length, at the appointed goal of time He savours one more ecstasy sublime — 178 POEMS OF SCHILLER The generation's new poetic ring — And to Truth's faithful arms he longs to cling. And she herself, the gentle Cyprian maid, Illumined with a crown of fairy light, Appears before her grown-up son, arrayed In splendour — as Urania bedight. The readier she submitted to his sway, The fairer he on his departing way. No less enchanting was the sweet surprise Of great Ulysses' sou, where 'neath his eyes. Mentor's familiar hneaments gave place To wise Athene's heaven-imparted grace. Ye hold in trust the honour of mankind ; Guard it ! With yours 'tis closely intertwined. The charm of poetry we rightly deem Part of creation's well-appointed scheme. Let it roU on and melt into the sea Of a divinely blended harmony ! When Truth is taunted by its proper age, Let her appeal to the poetic page And seek a refuge in the Muses' choir. Her real claims more readily inspire Eespect, that they are shrouded o'er with grace. May she in Song for ever find a place. And on her dastard enemies shall rain Avenging paeans in triumphant strain. Ye free-born scions of a mother free, Press onward firmly with exalted eyes; Perfected beauty only may we see. And lesser crowns ye need not stoop to prize ! The sister missing in this present sphere Clasped to her mother's bosom ye shall find ; fl .t.fUl III . ' Forth I -ucent afar to loam ' ' Photogravure from a painting by ¥ . Kirchbach POEMS OF SCHILLER 179 What lofty souls as beautiful revere Must noble be, and perfect of its kind. Poised high above your life-appointed span, Let your ecstatic pmious freely swell ! The dawniug image in your mirror scan. And the approaching century foretell. By thousand paths and many devious ways Through every varied turning ye shall ghde To w^elcome in the fulness of her days Harmonious concord, your delight and guide ! As breaks the pure disseminated ray Into its seven gently blended tints, And as the seven tinted rainbow gay, Dissolving, with one white presentment glints, So in a thousand magnitudes will glow. Entrancing, yet bewildering the sight, The gathering rills of Truth, which ever flow Into the stream of universal Light. THE PILGRIM. All the strength of youth enjoying, Forth I went afar to roam ; Giving up the childish toying Of my dear parental home. All my wealth, on faith relying, Willingly I left behind ; With a pilgrim's staff defying All the world with simple mind. For a mighty inspiration Urged me on in tones sincere : — Saying " go, 'tis thy vocation To pursue a high career. i8o POEMS OF SCHILLER " If thou seest a golden portal Enter it without delay : Things of earth are there immortal And shall never pass away." Morn and eve in due procession Followed ; never did I rest ; But I sought in dark depression, Never nearer to my quest. In my way stood precipices, Torrents hemmed my path below ; Over rivers and abysses Crazy bridges I must throw. Then at last I found a river Eolling toward the glowing East, And with a confiding quiver, Hurled myself upon its breast. Down to the unbounded ocean The resistless waters roll. Tossing me with merry motion — But no nearer is my goal ! For no bridge can span the distance ; And, alas ! the heavenly sphere Lends to earth no close assistance And the There is never Here ! THE YOUTH AT THE BROOK. By the brook the youth was sitting And a wreath of flowers wound. Watched the dancing petals flitting In the ripples round and round. POEMS OF SCHILLER i8i So my days are passing, passing, Ever restless like the burn, And my youth is fading, fading. As the drooping garlands turn ! Ask me not why I am mourning In my budding youthful days, When the bloom of Spring returning Hope and joy to all conveys. Ah! the thousand voices darting From awakening Nature round, In my secret bosom smarting, Do but grave a deeper wound. What avails to me the pleasure Offered by the fairy May ? One I seek — one only treasure, Ever near, yet far away. Wide my arms are strained to clasp her, Press the vision to my breast. But, alas ! they fail to grasp her, And my soul despau-s of rest. Ah ! descend, my sacred beauty, From thy proud embattled keep ! Flowers it shall be my duty In thy fragrant lap to heap. Hark ! with songs the grove is swelling, Purls the brook serene and fair. Spacious is the lowliest dwelhng, To a happy loving pair. i82 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE FAVOUR OF THE MOMENT. Thus it is we meet again In the merry realm of song : Fitting garlands let us train To bedeck the tuneful throng. But of all the godlike host Which deserves our tribute first ? Surely he deserves it most Who with pleasure slakes our thirst. For what boots it that a soul Ceres breathes into the shrine, Or that Bacchus fills the bowl With his rich empurpled wine, If the spark be not from heaven Which excites the sacred fire, If the spirit be not riven, If the heart do not aspire ? Fortune must from heaven fall As the mighty gods allow ; But the greatest chance of all Is the present moment — Novj ! Since infant Nature had its birth In distant ages far away, The godliest triumph upon earth Is thought, and thought's enlightening ray. Slowly, in the ages' course, Stones are fitted, tier on tier ; To the soul with lightning force Shall th' accomplished work appear. POEMS OF SCHILLER 183 As the sun on earth below Fairy-coloured fabrics limns. As upon her brilliant bow Iris through the ether skims, So is every priceless boon Fleeting as the lightning wave ; Night is nigh, and all too soon It must sink into the grave. PUNCH SONG. Elements four Bound in one thrall, Counterfeit life, Constitute all. Juice of the lemon — Squeeze it and pour ! Sharpness of hfe Is the real core. Now let the sugar, Mellow and sweet, Soften the bitter, Temper its heat. Now for the water ! Fill up the bowl. Water well measured Mixes the whole. Dashes of spirit It will require : Nothing like spirit Life to inspire ! i84 POEMS OF SCHILLER Ere it evaporates Quaff it in haste ! Only when strong It refreshes the taste. TO MY FRIENDS. 'Tis true, dear friends — and no one will deny - That fairer times than ours have long gone by ! A nobler people here has had its birth, As — did a jealous history not teach — A thousand stones would testify in speech, Hewed from the very bosom of the earth. But those majestic times have passed away, And we remain — the present day is ours. That favoured race has mouldered in decay, And we who live must exercise our powers. Happier spheres there are in which to dwell. My friends, as travellers for ever tell, Than this our own perplexed and weary land. But if by Nature we are shorn of much, At least our hearts are quickened by the touch Of Art bestowed with no reluctant hand. 'Tis true, from us the laurel may recoil, The myrtle shrink before our Winter's grip, But merry vines spring freely from the soil To deck our brows with goodly fellowship. In the great life without the tumults swell Where continents tlieir treasures buy and sell Along the Thames, the market of the world. All that is costly there you may behold, And ships arriving with their canvas furled, And ruling everywhere — the God of Gold. POEMS OF SCHILLER 185 Not upon turbid and torrential streams The mirrored image of the sunshine plays ; But on the silent brook with gentle beams In friendly warmth twinkle the glancing rays. More dignified than in our Northern lands The beggar at the " Angel Portal " stands, For what he looks on is — Eternal Rome ! Essence of beauty floats upon the air, And Peter's great incomparable dome To heaven within a heaven may compare. Yet Rome with all her glory and her pride Is but the sepulchre of days gone by : Only in healthy plants can life abide, Such as can sip the moments as they fly. Greater events and things there may have been Than in this narrow life of ours are seen : New ! — why, beneath the sun is nothing new ! All that is worthiest of every age Is duly mustered on this worldly stage, And passed deliberately in review. The life of yesterday recurs to-day. And Phantasy alone is ever young : That only never suffers from decay Which into actual being never sprung. PUNCH SONG. TO BE SUNG IN THE NOKTH. On the slopes of lofty mountains Where the long-drawn summers shine. By the generous radiance quickened. Nature bears the golden vine. i86 POEMS OF SCHILLER Her mysterious operations Are concealed from mortal sight, Her intention is unfathomed, And inscrutable her might. Sparkhng hke a son of morning, Flashing like a fiery stream, From the cask the liquor rushes Crystal clear, with ruddy gleam. It rejoices all the senses. And the timid heart inspires ; Calm and soothing hopes induces, Strengthens life with new desires. In our Northern clime the sunbeams Spiritless and slanting lie ; Leaves indeed they tinge with colour. But the fruit they cannot dye. Yet the North must live — and living, Life with pleasure must combine ; How then solve the knotty problem, Grapeless, to dispose of wine ? Pale and feeble is the liquor We laboriously prepare ; That which Nature's soul provideth Sparkles ever bright and fair. Let us gaily drain the goblet, Even though the wine be sad ; Art itself, which came from heaven, Once an earthly being had. All the majesty of power Is enlisted on her side ; POEMS OF SCHILLER 187 With her own creative spirit She can new from old provide. By her overwhelming forces Elements apart are riven, And her artificial altar Emulates the light of heaven. To the happy favoured islands Far away, the bark she steers, And the fruits of Southern regions Carries to our Northern spheres. Let us see an allegory In this rich, inspiring juice : — Given will, and given power, What can mortal not produce ? A TEOOPEE'S SONG. To horse with you, comrades ; saddle and mount ! To the field and to freedom away ! To the field where a hero is still of account, And the valorous still has his day. On nobody else can a man rely, He must trust to himself to do or die. From the world true freedom has disappeared, But masters and slaves remain. With guile and deceit it is domineered By men of inferior strain. Who looks death straight in the face, is free — The warrior bold — and none but he ! i88 POEMS OF SCHILLER The troubles of life he hurls aside ; By fears aud cares unvexed, Right on his fate content to ride, If nut one day, on the next ; And if on the next — why, the present employ, And what remains of our time enjoy. His lot by heaven is gilded with mirth, He need not struggle and toil ; The servitor probes in the bowels of earth And labours in search of spoil. He shovels, as long as he lives, for pelf. And ends by digging a grave for himself. The trooper and his redoubtable horse A terrible glamour invests. While the wedding banquet pursues its course, They come as unbidden guests. His wooing is short, not with gold he charms, But his love he imposes by force of arms. Why is the maiden so pale and sad ? No questions ! Let it pass ! No regular home has he ever had For the love of an honest lass. His wandering lot gives no repose, And his heart is intact wheresoever he goes. Then, boot and saddle, my hearties ! Come, Your breasts to the battle square While your youthful forces bubble and hum And the fighting spirit is there ! Think not to compass a good old age, Long life is none of your heritage. POEMS OF SCHILLER 189 THE FEAST OF VICTORY. Fallen were the walls of Troy, Priam's town in ashes lay ; And the victor Greeks with joy Bearing all their spoils away, To the stately vessels wound On the Hellespontine shore, Happy people, homeward bound To their glorious Greece once more. Into songs of triumph break ! Westward we will plough the foam. Turn the ships, and let them take Their rejoicing course for home. And in long despondent row, Mournful, sat the Trojan fair ; Beat their breasts in bitter woe, Pale, and with dishevelled hair. With the sounds of revelry Mingled their dejected song As they told with flowing eye Of their sacred country's wrong. " Fare thee well, beloved soil. And the homes where we were bred ! After strangers we must toil — Ah ! how happy are the dead ! " To the gods who dwell on high See how Calchas' altar smokes ; Pallas, who can vivify Towns, or raze them, he invokes. Neptune too, whose billows fling Stormy girdles round the land, Zeus, the terrifying King, With the aegis in his hand. 190 POEMS OF SCHILLER Now the long-drawn strife is past, Patient force has won its prize ; Time has worked its will at last, And the city captive lies. Atreus' son, the army's lord. Counted up the dismal tale Of the peoples who had poured Erst into Scamander's vale. Sorrow o'er his visage spread. Drooped his kingly eye with grief. For of those whom once he led Few remained around their chief. Break, then, into joyful song, Ye who cherish thoughts of home, Ye who still are hlithe and strong! For, alas ! not all may come. " Nor all those who safe return Shall enjoy their native land ; Where their own dear altars burn May be clenched the murderer's hand. Spared in battle, many a one Lives to fall by felon's stroke." — Thus Ulysses' warning tone. Prompted by Athene, spoke. Happy he whose spouse is true, Keeps his household chaste and pure ; Woman longs for something new, And her faith is never sure. And Atrides swells with pride As he marks his captive's charms. Presses closer to her side, Clasps her in his favoured arms. Evil deeds cannot prevail, Vengeance dogs each grave offence, POEMS OF SCHILLER 19J Gods in heaven never fail Even justice to dispense. Evil must to evil lead, Zeus with his avenging hand Punishes with lightning speed The inhospitable band. "Favoured mortal well may vie," Cries O'ileus' valiant son, " To extol the gods on high, Seated on their heavenly throne ! Fortune's gifts at random pour, Here and there by chance they rain ; For Patroclus is no more. While Thersites lives again. Since, then. Fortune's careless wheel Heedlessly her favours gives. He may truly favoured feel Who a lucky lot receives. " War sweeps all the best away ! Where, my breather, Greeks are met, Never shall thy name decay. None thy powers shall forget. When the Grecian navies burned, Thine the arm which brought relief. Yet the glorious prize was earned By yon sly, accomplished thief. Gently may thine ashes rest ! Never foe thy might compelled, Anger sweeps away the best, Ajax 'twas who Ajax felled." There it was that for his sire Pyrrhus poured the golden wine ; " Could I to all lots aspire, Father, I would covet thine. 192 POEMS OF SCHILLER 'Mid the gifts of earthly life None there is so great as fame ; When the body falls in strife, Still abides the glorious name. Thy renown, by poets penned, Hero, never shall decay : True, this earthly life may end. But the dead remain for aye." " Lest the bards in duty fail, Lest the vanquished 'scape their lays, I," quoth Diomed, " my tale Testify in Hector's praise ! Fighting valiantly, he fell For his sacred altar's flame : If the victor's fame excel, Still was his the nobler aim ! For his hearth and home he died, Verily his people's shield. Till his direst foes decide Honour to his name to yield." And now, Nestor, jolly soul. Who three generations saw. Hands the leaf-embowered bowl To the weeping Hecuba : " Drink of tliis : it will restore, And forget thy grievous smart ; Wonderful is Bacchus' power To relieve a tortured heart. Drink of this ; it will restore, And forget thy grievous smart ; Wonderful is Bacchus' power To relieve a tortured heart. " Even Niobe, who fell To the wrath of Heaven a prey, POEMS OF SCHILLER 193 Could her sufferings dispel. Tasting of the fruity spray. While the everlasting stream To the lips in ardour leaps, Sorrow flies — is but a dream, Borne away in Lethe's deeps ! Wliile the foaming, living stream To the lips in ardour leaps, Sorrow flies — is but a dream, Borne away in Lethe's deeps !" Godlike, with transfigured brow, See the prophetess arise ! As she mounts the vessel's prow, Smoking homesteads meet her eyes : — " Life is but a smokelike veil ! As the wreathing pillars wane, Earthly glories surely fail, And the gods alone remain. Care attends the horseman's hand, Round the ship misfortunes weigh : Not to-morrow we command, Therefore hve we for to-dav ! " THE LAMENT OF CERES. Is this Spring upon the scene ? Has the earth grown young again ? Sunlit hills are clothed with green. Loosened is the ice-bound chain. Mirrored in the azure rill, Smile serene and cloudless skies; Zephyr's breath has lost its chill, Dainty flowerets ope their eyes. Warbling notes the bushes cheer, Cries the nymph in dulcet key ; 194 POEMS OF SCHILLER All the blossoms reappear, But thy daughter, where is she ? By what long and devious ways Have I sought her darling trace ! Titan, all thy piercing rays Have assisted in the chase. Yet not one has cast its eye On the form I love so well ; Daylight, which should all descry, Fais my dimness to dispel. Has Zeus seized her for his own ? Or, to her fair charms a slave, Has grim Pluto whirled her down By black Orcus' dreadful wave ? Who upon that dismal strand My misfortunes will make known ? Oft the vessel leaves the land, But it bears the dead alone ! Ne'er did happy eye behold Light on yonder plains forlorn ; And so long as Styx has rolled, Living thing it ne'er has borne. Thither many a path descends, Never one returns above ; None those bitter tears commends To the Mother's anxious love. Mothers sprung of Pyrrha's race, Mortal, such indeed may brave Hades, and their darlings trace Past the terrors of the grave. Only Jove's immortal heirs May not see that gloomy land ; Blest are they whom Fate forbears To oppress with vengeful hand. POEMS OF SCHILLER 195 Plunge me in the night of nights Far from Heaven's Inight domain ; Reck not of the goddess' rights, For they mean a mother's pain. Wliere she sat in joyless state On her spouse's gloomy throne, There did I, a supphant, wait 'Mid the silent shades, unknown. Ah ! her eye with tearful trace Strains through those unlighted halls, Wanders vaguely into space, Never on her mother falls, Till at length lier love discerns — To each other's breasts they fly ! Orcus' self with pity yearns, Marks with sympathetic sigh. Empty hope ! Unheeded cry ! In their order, calm and sure. Steadily the days roll by ; Jove's decrees shall aye endure. From tliat dark forbidding sight Turns he his anointed head ; Once euwrapt in yonder night, She is distant as the dead — Till that darkling stream shall glow 'Neath Aurora's roseate spell ; Till fair Iris strains her bow Eight athwart the realms of Hell. Surely, something must remain ! Some convincing proof that space Ileal love can not restrain. Of her hand some gentle trace ! Does no love-knot wind its thread Eound the mother and her own ? 196 POEMS OF SCHILLER 'Twixt the living and the dead Has no bond of union grown ? Not too deeply must I sigh, Still she bides within my reach ; For the gods who dwell on liigh Grant at least a common speech ! When Spring's children pass away, When before the Northern air Leaf and floweret decay, Stands the tree bereft and bare ; Then the germs of life I shake From Vertumnus' bounteous horn. Praying Styx the seed to take And return the golden corn. Sad, I hide it in the ground, Lay it on my darling's breast, That a language it may found And my love and grief attest. When the Hours in rhythmic dance Bring the Spring-time in their train, Sunshine will dispel the trance, What was dead will rise again. Germs concealed from human eye Li the chilly womb of Earth, 'Neath the genial, tinted sky Eevel in a second birth. Heavenward as the stem ascends, So the root in darkness hides ; Styx with ethers justly blends. Night with day its care divides. For the attributes they share Equally of life and death ; From Cocytus' banks they bear Welcome tones with gentle breath. POEMS OF SCHILLER 197 Though a prisoner she be In the dreary depths below, Spring's young blossoms call to me, And this healing balm bestow : — " Tell that where the shadows reign. Where no golden sunbeams thrill. Love its might can yet maintain. Loving hearts are faithful still." Hail, ye children of the field, Children born of pastures new ! Your auspicious cup shall yield Draughts of nectar's purest dew. In the sunshine ye shall play. Bathed in Iris' fairest beams ; And your leaves I will array In Aurora's golden gleams. Whether Spring or Autumn reign. Cheering glow, or withered leaf, Let no tender heart disdain Or my pleasure or my grief. THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL. Fashion the ears in a chaplet of gold Deftly commingled with corn-flowers blue ! The Queen is approaching ; her presence behold 1 And every eye may rejoice at the view. She comes all inordinate habits to tame, And man with his fellow in peace to compose. The wandering nomads of earth to reclaim. And the peaceable comforts of home to disclose. In the rocky clefts concealed Humble Troglodytes lie low : 198 POEMS OF SCHILLER Nomad races let the field Perish, as they erraut go. Armed with deadly bow and spear, Strides the hunter through the laud. Woe to strangers who appear, Cast upon that fateful strand ! Ceres visited that shore, Vainly seeking for her child ; But a dreary face it bore, And the land was stern and wild. Ne'er a roof its refuge gave As in anxious quest she trod. And no temple's architrave Testified an honoured god. No refreshing corn or fruit Her distressing need await. Human bones the fanes pollute. And the altars violate. Wheresoe'er her footsteps turned Nought but sorrow could she scan. And her lofty spirit burned, Grieving for the fall of man. Can this, then, be man indeed. Fashioned on our godlike lines ? This the well appointed breed Upon which Olympus shines ? Did he not in trust receive Earth for his appointed home ? Is this all he can achieve — Desolate, abroad to roam ? Will no god his pity lend ? None of the celestial choir POEMS OF SCHILLER 199 An almighty arm extend To uplift him from the mire ? True, high Heaven little heeds, Looking on terrestrial woe, But my anguished spirit bleeds ^ Human grief and pain to know. And, that men be men indeed, All their troubles let them share With their mother Earth, and plead For her kind maternal care ; Eeverence th' eternal laws Which control the flight of time, And the moon, who knows no pause, In its orbit's course subhme. Soft she sweeps the mists aside Which her silver glory shroud, And in all her heavenly pride Bursts upon th' uncultured crowd. All the guzzliug horde is there, Bevelling without control, And the sacrifice they bear In a foul blood-reeking bowl. Horror-struck, she turns away From the bloody, sickening sight : Tiger-feasts no charm convey To a godlike appetite. Fairer gifts a god beseem — Fruits which Nature's Autumn yields ; Those who dwell on high esteem Offerings from the simple fields. And she tears the murderous shaft From the hunter's clumsy hand. 200 POEMS OF SCHILLER And with its bloodthirsty haft Graves a furrow in the sand. Then she gathers from her crown Just one germ-containing cell ; In the furrow lays it down Into generous growth to swell, Till, adorned with blades of green, All the earth transfigured hes, Nodding with a golden sheen Like a wood before her eyes. And she blessed the smiling Earth As the earhest sheaves she tied, Chose the landmark as her hearth, And in intercession cried : " Father Zeus, who dwell'st in space, Ruler of the gods on high, Give a token that thy gi-ace On this offering will he ! On these people pitying glance. People who ignore thy name ; Wake them from their grievous trance That their god they may acclaim ! " And his sister's earnest prayer Eose to Zeus enthroned on high. Crashed his thunders through the air, Jagged lightnings tore the sky. Whirhng round the altar roared Angry crackling tongues of fire, And above the eagle soared In its stately circhng spire. Then prone at the feet of that ruler divine The rapturous crowds in an ecstasy throng. POEMS OF SCHILLER 201 And Humanity's sentiments tend to refine The barbarous spirits untutored so long. Their murderous weapons behind them are cast, Their darkened perception grows clear and serene, And the heavenly lesson they welcome at last From the eloquent hps of the glorious Queen. Then the Deities descend, Each from his exalted throne ; Themis marks the furrows' end, And directs the hmit-stone. Under her impartial hand Every man receives his share. And the bidden Stygian band Witness to her justice bear. And the godlike smith behold, Son of Zeus, whose facile skill Bronze or plastic clay can mould Slaves to his artistic will. Deft his tongs and pincers clang, Art his bellows doth endow : — From his potent hammer sprang First the civihsing plough. And in front with ponderous spear See ! Minerva takes her post, Speaks in accents trumpet-clear And arrays the godlike host. Hers it is to found and build, Hers protection to afford, Scattered worlds may be instilled. Thanks to her, with warm accord. And the heavenly band she leads Through the wide-extended plam ; 202 POEMS OF SCHILLER Landmarks, wlieresoe'er she treads, Marking boundaries, remain. And her measured links she throws Eouud the emerald-capped liill ; And the torrent, as it flows. Learns an ordered bed to fill. Nymphs and Oreads, who pursue Artemis the bold and swift, Form a merry retinue As their hunting spears they lift. All advance to lend their aid, And the joyful tumult swell. As the pine-trees' darksome glade With their crashing tools they fell. Then from green and sedgy deeps Kises the weed-bearing god. And his raft complaining creeps Where he marks the goddess nod. Now the Hours in light attire Their accustomed task attend, And the modest trunks acquire Shape, and to persuasion bend. And the Sea-God too appears — With his trident's awful thrust, Granite masses he uptears From the Earth's tenacious crust; Swings them in his mighty fist Like some trifling airy ball, And, with Hermes to assist. Crowns the battlemented wall ^ Then Apollo's golden strains Conjure Harmony sublime ; 1/. e., the Wall ofTroy. POEMS OF SCHILLER 203 Music weaves its subtle chains, True in melody and time. And the Muses join, and sing With their measured ninefold tone, Till, entranced, together spring. Unassisted, stone and stone.^ Cybele the wide-winged gate Fashions with experienced hand, Cunning locks does she create. Bolts and bars by her are planned. Quickly by immortal aid Finished is the wondrous pile ; Festal scenes its walls pervade. And with pomp its temples smile. And anon the godlike Queen ^ With a myrtle crown proceeds, And the youth of fairest mien To the fairest damsel leads. Venus and her darling boy Deck the first assorted pair, And the gods with bounties cloy These first objects of their care. On the new-fledged burghers press To the hospitable gate, While celestial bodies bless And confirm their proud estate. Ceres at Zeus' altar tends And the priestly office plies. Hands in intercession bends, And to all the people cries : " Freedom seek the beasts of prey, Free th' Immortals dwell in space ; 1 An allusion to the building of Thebes. ^ j. g.^ Juno. 204 POEMS OF SCHILLER Be their passions what they may, Nature will assert its place. But a man can only thrive By rehance on his kind ; He must live as others live Strength and liherty to find," Fashion the ears in a chaplet of gold Deftly commingled with corn-flowers blue ! The Queen is approaching ; her presence behold ! And every eye may rejoice at the view. 'Tis she who has taught us our homesteads to prize, And she who has reconciled man with his mate ; To her let our songs in festivity rise — The beautiful mother, indulgent and great. THE RING OF POLYCRATES. Upon the battlements he stood, Regarding in complacent mood Samos, o'er which he ruled in state. " All this is subject to my sway," To Egypt's king he 'gan to say ; " Confess that I am fortunate." " Of heavenly favours great thy share ! And those who once thine equals were Now recognise thy sceptre's might. But one there lives t'avenge them all ; Thee fortunate I can not call While he keeps guard in angry spite." Ere from his lips the words had died. Subservient at the Tyrant's side, A herald from Miletus bows : POEMS OF SCHILLER 205 " Let sacrificial fumes ascend, And joyous leaves of laurel blend, My lord, around thy radiant brow. " Thy foe lies stricken by a spear, And Polydorus sent nie here — Thy faithful chief — the news to tell." So speaking from a bowl he drew, And offered to their shudd'ring view, A bloody head they both knew well. The king recoiled with horror struck : " I warn thee still, beware of luck, And," he pursued with anxious glance, " Remember that thy squadron braves The fickle winds and treacherous waves. Of loss by storm how great the chance ! " And scarcely had he said the word Ere sounds of revelry were heard, And cheering from the harbour borne. Eich laden from a foreign land. To the familiar native strand The many-masted ships return. Astonished seems the royal guest : " Thy luck to-day is manifest. Yet tremble for its constancy. The Cretan hosts in armed swarms Threaten thy land with war's alarms, And even now their van is nish." ^&^ And ere the words had 'scaped his Hps, Signals of joy pervade the ships. And shouts of " Victory " ascend : " Delivered are we from the foe. 2o6 POEMS OF SCHILLER The storm has laid the Cretans low. Triumph ! The war is at an end." Amazed, his guest the tidings hears. " Truly, thy fortune great appears ! Yet still I tremble for thy joy. I fear the jealous wrath of Heaven, YoT never yet to man was given Pure happiness without alloy. " I also have been fortunate ; Each stroke of my despotic state Has met with heav'uly favour kmd. But when I saw my chosen heir God-stricken, I became aware That fortune leaves a debt behind. " Wouldst thou immunity from grief ? Then pray the gods, in kind relief. To shade thy luck with sorrow's tone. No man true happiness has gained On whom the generous gods have rained Untempered benefits alone. "And if the gods thy prayer deny, Upon a friend's advice rely. And call misfortune to thy side. Whate'er thine heart accounts most dear Amidst thy treasures, bring it here And hurl it into yonder tide." Oppressed with fear, replies his host : " Of all the wealth our isle can boast. This ring in first esteem I keep. An this can calm the Furies' rage, The peril of my luck assuage, I here consign it to the deep." POEMS OF SCHILLER 207 And as the morrow's daylight broke. Thus to the Prince a fisher spoke, With pleasure sparkling in his eyes : " My lord, this noble fish behold ! Never its like did net enfold. To thee I humbly give my prize." But when the cook his knife applied, In loud astonishment he cried, And ran the marvel to disclose. « The ring. Sire, which thou used to wear I found in yonder fish : 'tis here. Truly, thy luck no hmit knows." Exclaims the horror-stricken guest : " With thee no longer can I rest, Thy friendship I no longer own. The gods, 'tis clear, thy death design ; I must away, or hazard mine." He spoke, embarked, and straight was gone. CASSANDRA. MiKTH through Trojan halls was ringing Ere succumbed the fortress bold ; Hymns of joy the bards are singing To the harpists' strings of gold. Men their weapons are forsaking, Thoughts of battle lay aside, Peleus' mighty son is taking Priam's daughter for his bride. Laurel every brow is binding, And the crowd in surging bands To the holy fanes is winding Where the Thymbrian altar stands. 2o8 POEMS OF SCHILLER Vaguely humming, wildly heaving, Sweeps the Bacchanalian host Down the lanes and alleys, leaving One sad heart in sorrow lost. Joyless 'mid the joy prevailing, Silent, did Cassandra rove, And from human presence quailing. Sought Apollo's laurel grove. In the forest's dark recesses Found the Priestess a retreat. Tore the fillet from her tresses. Crushed it grimly 'neath her feet. " Happiness in ample measure To all other hearts is weighed ; My old parents find new pleasure, Gay my sister stands arrayed. But o'er me there ever lowers Gloom, all sweet illusion flies, And I see these hoary towers Crumble with prophetic eyes. (( I can see a torchlight glowing, But 'tis not in Hymen's hand Up to heaven I see it growing, But no sacrificial brand. Feasts I see in preparation, Then th' approaching god I feel, And with horrid fascination Mark the blows he grieves to deal. ti' " And they mock my bitter anguish, And they cavil at my grief. All alone my heart must languish, Solitude my one relief. POEMS OF SCHILLER 209 By no glad acquaintance greeted, Scorned by every joyous band, Truly, I am sore entreated, Harsh Apollo, by thine hand. " Why should I — ah ! cruel mission — Thy dark oracles expound, And unfold my prescient vision To a town in darkness bound ? Why should I see prematurely Evils I can not allay ? Fate's decrees are fashioned surely, What we fear we can not stay. « Is it well, impending terror To expose, the veil to raise ? Human hfe is nought but error. Knowledge only Death conveys. Take, ah ! take this penetration From my eyes which probe too deep. Ill it suits my mortal station Secret thy dread truths to keep. " Give, ah ! give me back my bhndness. Let me in the gloom rejoice ! I have sung no human kindness Wliile the mouthpiece of thy choice. True, the future thou dost grant me, But the present says me nay. Sere is life which should enchant me : Take thy cursed gift away. " Never have my locks been plaited In their bridal garb again Since my life I consecrated To thy melancholy fane. 2IO POEMS OF SCHILLER Youth for me was void of gladness, Grief and pain were all my share, And my dear ones' every sadness Brought my gentle heart despair. " See, my playmates are contented, All around me loves and lives ; Joy is everywhere presented, Mine the only heart that grieves. Spring brings me no satisfaction Though the earth its glories cheer. Who in life can find distraction If beneath its depths he peer ? " E'en in her deluded yearning, Blest Polyxene I hold, Who the noblest Greek is burning In her bridal clasp to fold. Proudly is her bosom heaving, Scarce her rapture she conceals ; And, in her fond dream believing, For no heavenly boon appeals. " And I too have been permitted On my chosen one to gaze. Marked the supphant glance which flitted From his eye with loving blaze. Nought my spouse from me should sever. Toying in my home serene : — But a Stygian shade would ever Nightly thrust itself between. " All her pale-faced spectres yonder, Dark Proserpina doth bring. And where'er my footsteps wander Hordes of ghosts around me cling. POEMS OF SCHILLER 211 In the sports of childhood nimbly Gambolling, my path they chain In a horrid, grim assembly ! Never can I smile again ! Lo ! the blade is elevated, And the murderous eyes I see ; By my terror fascinated, If I would, I can not flee. And I can not look behind me, Calmly seeing, hearing all ; Conscious of the fates which bind me In an alien land to fall." Still her doleful words were ringing When a murmuring clamour spread. From the distant temple springing : — Thetis' mighty son lay dead ! Eris shakes her snaky tresses. All the gods in haste are gone, And the angry storm-cloud presses On devoted Ihon. THE DIVEE. " Is there a knight or squire who dare Dive into yonder abyss ? A golden goblet hes buried there. Above it the waters boil and hiss. Who ever presents it again to my sight Shall keep it for ever : I grant him the right." Thus spake the King, and speaking, hurled The cup from the cliff where he stood, Into the seething gulf which whirled Far below in Charybdis' flood. 212 POEMS OF SCHILLER " Again, I demand, is there any so bold As to search in these depths for my goblet of gold ? " Never a word spake Knight or Squire, But stood with downcast eyes ; Nor does one of the band aspire To earn for himself the golden prize. " Is there none," once more the monarch cried, " Who will venture to fathom the depths of the tide ? " Yet, never a one the silence broke Till a noble Squire and proud. Hurling aside his girdle and cloak. Stepped from the ranks of the faltering crowd ; And there was not a witness of the scene But noted with wonder his gallant mien. And as he approached the angry brow And gazed beneath, he saw The flood which Charybdis swallowed but now Rolling back from her terrible maw. And with the distant thunder's boom, Burst foaming from that dismal womb. ^o It writhes and it bubbles, it curdles and seethes, Like water and flame at bay ; And billow on billow in steaming wreaths Break sky-high in eternal spray. — Yet no relief : - — and it seems that the main Is great witli an ocean, yet labours in vain. But at last the tumult abates, and lo ! A black and silent well Gapes through the foam, and seems to go To the very bottom-most depths of Hell. And the bounding waves in the pride of their might Are drawn to the vortex, and vanish from sight. " One cry of horror from all — he dives " Photogravure from the painting by Michaelis POEMS OF SCHILLER 213 Quickly the youth, ere the fury revives, Commits his soul to God : One cry of horror from all — he dives, And disappears in the hurtling flood. The cruel jaws close over their prey, Th' adventurous swimmer is lost for aye. All is still save a hoarse and muttering sound Borne from the depths without cease ; And from lip to lip the prayer goes round : — " Noble young hero, rest in peace ! " But hoarser and hoarser resounds the cry, And the critical moments will never go by. If the crown itself in the gulf were thrown. And the finder should wear it as King, Yet would I not choose, for the sake of the crown, So dear a prize from the deep to bring. No living soul shall ever tell What is hid in the womb of this watery Hell. Full many a craft in yon terrible reel Has vanished beneath the wave : But at most some shattered mast or keel Eeturns from the all-devouring grave. — And the sigh of the storm comes clearer and clearer. The moan of the tempest ever nearer. It writhes and it bubbles, it curdles and seethes Like water and flame at bay ; And billow on billow in steaming wreaths Break sky-high in eternal spray. And with the distant thunder's boom Rise boiling from that dismal womb. 2 14 POEMS OF SCHILLER — But see ! Through the darkling waters there A sometliing of suowy white ! A glistening neck the sea lays bare, And an arm which wrestles with desperate might. — " It is he ! In his other hand, behold ! He brandishes gaily the goblet of gold." And a deep and powerful breath he drew As he hailed the light of day. And the joyful shout resounds anew : — " He is safe ! It cannot drag him away. His arm has been able his spirit to save From the boiling depths of the watery grave." He lands, and the people press around, A cheering and jubilant ring ; As lowly kneeling upon the ground, He proffers the golden cup to Ms King. The King to his daughter makes a sign. And she fills the goblet with sparkling wine. " Long live the King ! Ah ! happy ye Who live in this rosy light ! It is awful yonder beneath the sea ! To tempt the gods can never be right. And never, I warn you, be so bold As to seek what the gods in their mercy withhold. " With lightning speed I was downwards whirled. When from a rocky seam A counter-torrent was upwards hurled, And I writhed in the grip of a double stream. And like a top in its dizzy course, Was hurried away by the mastering force. POEMS OF SCHILLER 215 " But God, unto whom I fervently cried (As I thought) with my latest breath, Showed me a coral ledge at my side : — I clutched it, and thus eluded death. And there on the rocks hung the goblet of gold, Which else had descended to fathoms untold. " For below me it still lay fathoms deep In a distant, purple gloom : And although the ear should happily sleep, No rest for the eye in that horrible tomb ; For Salamanders and Dragons dwell Kampant there in the jaws of Hell. " Around in an odious crowd they press, — And in loathsome masses sway ; The Dog-fish, marvel of ugliness. The staring Cod, and the spiny Ray ; And, with cruel teeth full grinning at me. The Shark, that ubiquitous scourge of the sea. "And there I clung, with terror possessed, Alone with the hideous brood ; One only living human breast In the midst of this awful solitude ; Far from the voice or help of men. Deep interned in the monsters' den. " And methought, in my terror one crept toward me. With a hundred arms outhung : He snatched — and in my agony I released the coral to which I clung. — Again I was seized by the whirl in its might ; But 'twas well, for it hurried me back to the light." 2i6 POEMS OF SCHILLER Almost bewildered stood the King, And said : " The goblet is won ; And I promise thee also this costly ring Enriched with many a royal stone, If thou plunge again, and bring me word What visions the bottommost depths afford." His daughter hsteued with anxious heart, And from coaxing hps came the prayer : — " Nay, father, enough of this terrible sport, He has done for you what none other dare. And if your keen mind further knowledge desire, 'Tis the turn of the knights to abash the young squire." Then the monarch flung the cup amain Into the whirling sea. " Bring me," he cried, " the goblet again, And I dub thee knight of the first degree. And this very day thou shalt her embrace, As thy spouse, who now pleads with such earnest grace." Then a heaven-bom might possessed his soul, And his eyes with ardour flashed. As over her features the blushes stole, Then faded and left her pale and abashed. Such a glorious prize he is bound to win. — For life or for death he plunges in. The roaring breakers come and go As the thundering echoes proclaim ; All eyes are bent on the gulf below. But the waves come ever and ever the same. Boihng they rise, and boiling retire. But none bears back the gallant young squire. POEMS OF SCHILLER 217 THE WALK TO THE FOUNDRY. A PIOUS youth was Fridolin, And in all godly fear He held the Countess of Savern Who was his mistress dear. She was so gentle and so good ; And e'en in her more hasty mood, He would have hastened to fulfil Her every wish with hearty will. From the first dawning streak of day Until the vesper bell His only wish was to obey, In duty to excel. And did his lady counsel rest, Into his eyes the tear-drops pressed ; He thought his duty left undone If not by wearying efforts shown. Him, then, o'er all the menial train The Countess chose to raise ; From her fair lips did ever rain Unmeasured words of praise. Her servant he no longer seemed, Eather her darhng son esteemed ; Upon his handsome face her eye Was ever dwelHng joyfully. Thereat in huntsman Robert's heart A dark resentment rose. (With lust to play some cruel part Long time his bosom glows.) To the hot-blooded Count he went, Whose ear was all too hghtly lent, 2x8 POEMS OF SCHILLER And coming from the hunting-field The seeds of doubt he thus instilled. "How fortunate, Sir Count, art thou," Quoth he with cunning deep, " Suspicion's poisoned voice, I trow, Ne'er mars thy golden sleep ; For what a noble wife is thine, Girdled with chastity divine ; Loyal fidelity t' ensnare Drives the seducer to despair." Then rolls the Count his flashing eye: " What dost thou tell me, knave ? On woman's virtue to rely — As fickle as the wave ? A flattering tongue she aye demands. My faith on sounder footing stands. None dares, I hope, his eyes to turn Upon the Countess of Savern ! " The other spake: "Thou thinkst aright; Only thy passing scorn Should he, who so presumes, excite, — A fool and menial born — Who on his mistress dares to raise His wicked thoughts and wanton gaze." — *' What ! " — thus the trembling Count began — " Dost speak of any living man ? " " Was that which filled the mouths of men Still from my Lord concealed ? Then let not what has 'scaped thy ken By me be first revealed." — " Speak ! for thy life, thou villain, speak," The other cries with frenzied shriek : POEAIS OF SCHILLER 219 " Who dares on Cunigond to look ? " " — Well, it was of the Page I spoke. " The youth is of no common frame," He craftily pursued, While hot and cold the Count became, And quivered as he stood. " Then didst thou never notice, Sir, That he had eyes alone for her ? For thee at table had no care, But ever languished round her chair ? " See here the verses which he sent His passion to confess " — " Confess ! " — " And which, impertinent, For mutual ardour press. The Countess, with compassion filled. Doubtless the truth from thee concealed : My hasty words I now regret ; — But, Sir, what cause for thee to fret ? " Into the little wood hard by The Count in fury turns, To where in roaring industry His iron-furnace burns. By many a busy toiling hand Early and late the blast is fanned ; The sparks out-fly, the bellows groan. As though to fuse the solid stone. 'O' The might of fire, the water's force. Are here united found ; The mill-wheel in the current's course Goes ever round and round. All day and night the workshops ring, In time the ponderous hammers swing, 220 POEMS OF SCHILLER And yielding to those mighty blows, The very iron plastic grows. Two of the men he bids attend, And thus explains their task : " The one whom first I hither send. And who proceeds to ask : ' Have ye obeyed our master well ? ' Him cast into yon fiery hell, Till but his ashes shall remain, Nor let him vex my sight again ! " Thereat rejoiced th' inhuman pair, With murderous lust possessed. For hard and cold as iron were The hearts within their breast. With zeal the bellows do they ply And heap the raging furnace high. And with bloodthirsty zest prepare The fated victim to ensnare. Then Kobert to his fellow cries With black hypocrisy : " Hither, my lad, at once ; arise ! My lord has need of thee." The master speaks to Fridoliu : " Make haste the iron works to gain. And ask the men who labour there If my behests have had their care." Replied the youth : " I haste to go." And girded him with speed : But paused, reflecting that she too His services might need. Unto the Countess then he went : " Down to the foundry I am sent ; POEMS OF SCHILLER 221 What can I do to please thee, say ? For thy commauds I first obey." On this the lady of Savern Replied in gentlest tone : " To hear the blessed mass I yearn, But suffering lies my son. So go, my child, and, kneehng, tell A pious prayer for me as well. And if repentant be thy prayer, I too, perchance, thy grace may share." And on this welcome errand bound, He took his course amain With joy, and time had scarcely found The village end to gain, When on his ear in tones sublime Resounded the sonorous chime Which, telling of forgiveness sent. Bids sinners to the Sacrament. " Do not the loving God evade When in thy path He hes ! " So saying, for the church he made. No sounds of worship rise. 'Tis harvest and the reaper wields His sickle in the glowing fields. No choir is present to sustain The mass with disciplined refrain. The resolution straight he made The Sacristan to play ; " That which leads heavenward," he said, " Is surely no delay ! " About the Priest with mien abased The stole and bands he humbly placed. 222 POEMS OF SCHILLER Then set himself with pious care The holy vessels to prepare. And when the altar he had dressed He meekly took his stand. As an assistant, by the Priest, The Office in his hand. To left and right in turn he knelt, And on each slightest signal dwelt, And when the holy Sanctus came Eang thrice to greet the sacred name. And as the Priest devoutly bends And o'er the altar, calm, The very present God extends In his uplifted palm, The Sacristan proclaims the spell Upon the clear and silvery bell. And all kneel down, and every breast Is crossed before Christ manifest. Each function thus in order due He did with ready thought ; The ritual of God's house he knew, By inner conscience taught, Nor wearied till the service ceased. And to the parting folk the Priest The Doniinus vobiscum said, And a devout departure bade. First all to order he restored And set in fair array, And swept the sanctuary adored. And then he went his way With mind at peace aloug the road To where the iron foundry stood ; ■• V ^;,^,> ' < ' ,-' " ' His case is settled,' they replied'' Photogravure from the painting by II. Knochl I POEMS OF SCHILLER 223 And the full number to uphold, A dozen Paternosters told. And when the chimneys came in view, He shouted to the hands : — "Have ye been careful, lads, to do Our noble Count's commands ? " A leer upon their features came, And pointiug to the raging flame ; — " His case is settled" they replied ; " The Count will learn our work with pride." Straight to his master this reply With utmost haste he took. Who gazed upon him drawing nigh With wonder-stricken look. " Unhappy one, whence com'st thou, say ? " " Sir, from the iron foundry. " — " Nay ! Then on the road thou hast delayed ! " " Sir, it was only while I prayed. " For when tliis day I left thy side (For this thy pardon. Sir !) First to my mistress I apphed : — My duty is to her. — The holy mass she bade me hear. And this I did with joy sincere, And told four Aves at the shrine For her salvation and for thine." At this the Count in agony Shuddered with bitter pain • — " And at the foundry what reply, My lad, didst thou obtain ? " " My lord, their answer was obscure. For, pointing to the furnace door, 224 POEMS OF SCHILLER ' His case is settled^ they replied, ' The Count will learn our work with pride.' '' " And Eobert," thus the Count pursued, Seized with a chilly sweat, " I sent him also to the wood : Surely, ye must have met ? " " Sir, neither wood nor open field Did any trace of Eobert yield." " Then," cried the Count wdth awe-struck tone, « The will of God Himself is done ! " And gentler than had been his wont, He took his servant's hand, Led him the Countess to confront, (Who failed to understand) And said : " This child is angel pure : Let him, I pray, thy grace secure ! If evil counsellors were ours, On him the grace of Heaven showers ! " THE GLOVE. Before his Lion Court, Keen for the tourney's sport, King Francis sat on a day. Around were the mighty ones of the land, And up in a balcony, close at hand. The ladies in bright array. And as with his finger a sign he made, Wide opened the gates in the pahsade ; A lion is seen With stately mien. He glares around, But makes no sound POEMS OF SCHILLER 225 He yawns disdain, Anil shakes his mane, And stretchuag once more, Lies down on the floor. Another sign is made by the King, A neighbouring portal open to fling — .With a furious crash And a ponderous dash A tiger springs in. The lion he views. And with roaring pursues, And lashes his tail Like the sweep of a flail ; He exhibits his fangs. And cautiously hangs At a distance secure From the lion demure, And snarls and howls — Then quietly prowls And lies at the lion's side. Again a signal is made by the King. The doors of a den are opened wide, And forth a couple of leopards glide. With lust of battle they prowl around, Then furious on to the tiger bound. But they succumb to the terrible paws, And next the hon opens his jaws And roars aloud : then all is still. With glaring eyes with lust which thrill, There the terrible beasts of prey, Eanged in an awful circle, lay. Then some fair hand from the terrace above Into the lists let fall her glove. 226 POEMS OF SCHILLER Fluttering down from the gallery gay. Between the hon and tiger it lay. With a bantering tone fair Cunigonde To the Knight Delorges cried : " An thy love for me, Sir Knight, be as fond As often thou hast sighed, Then bring me, I pray thee, my glove again." The Knight, unanswering, vaulted amain Into the lists from above. With confident stride and an easy grace He boldly affronted that horrible place, And rescued the delicate glove. With terrified wonder the stirring sight Was witnessed by every lady and knight. And as he returned with the glove in his grip His praises resounded from hp to lip. And Cunigonde with a tender glance. Which seemed to augur his fortunate chance. Stepped forward her lover to greet. But he hurled the rescued glove in her face : " Thy thanks, my Lady, are out of place ! " — And they parted, never to meet. THE VEILED IMAGE AT SAIS. A YOUTH there was who, burning with a thirst For knowledge, to Egyptian Sais came In hopes the wisdom of the Priests to learn. Some grades his ready wit soon left behind, But his inquiring spirit urged him on Until the Priest could hardly satisfy The inquirer's zeal. — " Why, what do I possess," Exclaimed the youth, " unless possessed of all ? POEMS OF SCHILLER 227 Is there, then, here a greater and a less ? And are thy verities, as fancy bids, Only a sum which, be it great or small. May be obtained and utilised at will ? Are they not indivisible and one ? Take from a perfect harmony one tone. Deprive the rainbow of a single tint, And what remains is nothing, if there fail Complete perfection in those notes and hues." And thus conversing once they found themselves Wandering into a sequestered fane, Where to his wonderment the youth observed An image deeply veiled, of giant size. And turning to his guide : " What," he demands, " Does yonder veil beneath its folds conceal ? " " The Truth," is the reply. — " What," cried the hoy, " 'Tis nothing else but Truth that I pursue, And must I find that just that Truth is veiled ? " " That with the Deity thou must arrange," Replied the Priest. " No mortal, 'tis ordained, Shall lift this veil till I do so myself. And he who w^ith unconsecrated hand Shall earlier the mystery expose, He, saith the god " — " Well ? " — " He shall see the Truth." " A strange oracular decree ! and thou. Hast thou thyself the secret never probed ? " " I ? No indeed ! And have not even felt So tempted." — " That I can not understand. If but this veil divided me from Truth." — "And a command, my son," struck in his guide. " More weiglity than perchance thou dost divine Is this thin gauze — light truly to thine hand, But on thy conscience hundredweights it loads." O'erwlielmed in thought, homeward the youth re- turned ; But the consuming eagerness to Icnow 228 POEMS OF SCHILLER Eobbed him of sleep, he tossed iipou his couch, And rose at midnight. — To the temple straight, In spite of him, his faltering footsteps turned. An easy task it was to scale the wall. And with one leap the bold adventurer stands Eight in the inner precincts of the fane. Here he makes pause, and notices with awe The lonely, lifeless silence which prevails. Only disturbed by the reechoing clang Of his own footfall in the secret vault. Above, athwart the breaches in the dome. The moon projects a pale and silvery ray. And, awful, as a very-present God, Clear in the shadow of the arched recess In its long shroud the image brightly gleams. Anon advancing with uncertain stride. He lifts his hand the holy thing to touch, When hot and cold his bones alternate thrill. And by an unseen arm he is repulsed. " Unhappy man, what wouldst thou do ? " So cries Within his consciousness a warning voice. " Wouldst thou presume the holiest to tempt ? No mortal, so the oracle declared, Shall raise this veil till it is raised by me." " Thus spoke he, but did not the speaker add : ' Whoever hfts this veil shall see the Truth ? ' " " Be what there may behind, raise it I will." In rising tones he cries : " I will behold ! " " Behold ! " Thus does the mocking echo make reply. The last is said : — and he has drawn the veil. " Now," ye will ask, " what object met his gaze ? " I know not. — Void of consciousness and pale, So on the morrow was he prostrate found POEMS OF SCHILLER 229 By the attending Priests at Isis' feet. Whate'er he saw, whatever then lie learned, His lips have never told : but gone for aye Was all the former gladness of his life, And sorrow bore him to an early grave. " Woe be to him," his warning voice would say When urgent questioners around him pressed, " Woe he to him who seeks for Truth through sin ! For Truth so found no happiness will yield." THE PAETITION OF THE WOKLD. " Here, take the world," cried mighty Zeus, addressing Mankind at large from his higli throne above. " I give it you for ever with my blessing ; But share it with fraternal love." Then hastened every hand to the partition : With equal ardour young and aged came. The crops aroused the husbandman's ambition. The young blood fixed upon the game. The merchant ran to fill his stores with treasure. The Abbot singled out the oldest wine, The King blocked roads and bridges at his plea.^ure, And cried : " A tithe of all is mine." Just at the last, when all had been provided, The Poet came : he came from far away. Alas I no more remained to be divided, And all things owned some master's sway. " Ah ! Woe is me ! am I alone neglected, Of all mankind thy dearest, truest sou ? " Thus wailing loud, in attitude dejected. He crouched before Jove's awful throne. 230 POEA^S OF SCHILLER " If thou to dwell in dreamland hast elected," Replied the god, " lay not the blame on me. Where wast thou when the sharing was effected ? " " I was," the Poet said, « by thee." " Mine eye upon thy countenance was dwelling. Thy heavenly harmony entranced mine ear ; Forgive the mind thine influence compelling Rendered oblivious of this sphere." " Wliat can I do ? " said Zeus, " for all is given ; The harvest, sport, the markets, all are seized. But an thou choose to live with me in heaven. Come when thou will'st, and I shall be well pleased." THE STRANGE MAIDEN. A VALE there was, whose simple folk Perceived with each returning year, Just as the earhest larks awoke, A strange and lovely maid appear. Her birth the valley could not boast. Where she had come from none could teU ; And every trace of her was lost The moment she had bid farewell. Her presence caused an honest mirth All hearts and spirits to invade, And yet her dignity and worth Familiarity forbade. Enchanting blooms and fruits she bore With gay profusion in her hand, POEMS OF SCHILLER 231 Grown on some more prolific shore, The products of a sunnier land. To every one she gave a share — To this some fruit, to that a bloom ; And whether young or bowed with care. All turned their footsteps richer home. Welcome were all, but if by chance. Hand clasped in hand, some lovers passed. For them was her most favoured glance. And they received her very best. PARABLES AND EIDDLES. On an illimitable mead Sheep silver white in thousands graze ; And where to-day we see them feed. There have they been since ancient days. They never age, and mildly quaff Life from a ne'er-exhausted burn ; A shepherd tends them, and his staff Presents a crescent silver horn. As through the golden gates they press His precious flock he nightly counts. And never has a lamb the less Although the steep so oft he mounts. A dog controls the wandering train, A lusty ram points out the way ; What is that flock ? Canst thou explain ? And who the careful shepherd ? — Say ! ^ 1 The Moon aud Stars. 232 POEMS OF SCHILLER IL Two buckets, hanging side by side, Over a well depend : If to the surface one you guide, The other will descend. Alternate on the rope they pull, Now one and then the other full, And while you take a sip from this. That is immersed in the abyss. The cooling draught for which you sigh, Together they can ne'er supply.^ III. This picture dost thou recognise Which its own lustrous light provides. Assumes an ever-changing guise. Yet constant and undimmed abides ? 'Tis compassed in the smallest space, Its framework is the narrowest bound, Yet all dimensions leave their trace. And through it everything is found. Then give this crystal gem a name, Its worth all precious stones transcends ; It blazes, yet without a flame. And all the world it comprehends. The very heaven is portrayed Within that httle magic ring, And visions which its zone invade Still fairer from the circle spring. ^ IV. A structure built in days of yore ! No house it is, nor yet a fane. ^ Day and Night. 2 xhe Eye. POEMS OF SCHILLER 233 Eide for a hundred days or more To girdle it — the task is vain ! o^ While generations passed away It braved the stress of storm and time ; It courts the sky-roofed ocean spray, And cloud ward its free turrets climb. In no vainglory was it reared, It serves to cherish and protect. Its Hke on earth has ne'er appeared, Yet human was its architect.^ We number six, and owe our birth And training to no common pair : Our sire was ever full of mirth, Our mother was a slave to care. Some of our worth to each we owe — Softness to her, lustre to him — Round you in circling dance we go, And, ever young, we lightly skim. All dark secluded nooks we hate, And revel in the light of day ; The world itself we animate And charm with our mysterious sway. We come with Spring-time's earhest breath, And its inspiring numbers tell ; We shrink from the domain of death, For all around us life must well. None with our succour can dispense, When men are happy, we are by. 1 The Great Wall of China. 234 POEMS OF SCHILLER Talk of a king's magnificence — 'Tis we the dignity supply ! ^ VL Although inadequately prized, Yet suited to the greatest king, Like a keen sword, it is devised To violate. — What is that thing ? Though wounding oft, no blood it sheds, Makes many rich, takes nought by stealth ; Earth's surface it has overspread, And brought it happiness and health. Kingdoms have risen through its might, - The oldest cities it could rear ; The torch of war it ne'er did light, And happy they who hold it dear!^ VIL I dwell in a rigorous mansion of flint, And quietly sleeping I lie Till the impact of iron impresses a dint, When forth in a moment I hie. Invisible first, I was little and weak, With a puff you might blow me away; One dewdrop could smother me just in a freak; But my pinions soon obtain play. If my powerful sister but come to mine aid, I will spread in my wrath till the world is afraid. ^ VIII. A dial is my coursing ground ; I never take a moment's rest ; ^The Six Primary Colours. 2 The Ploughshare. 3 A Spark from Flint and SteeL POEMS OF SCHILLER 235 Small is my orbit, and its bound Were by a pair of hands compressed. Yet swift as arrows from the bow, Swift as the tempest roars through space, Full many a thousand miles I go Ere I complete my httle race.^ THE WALK. Hail to thee ! roseate hill, thou luminous peak of the mountain, Welcome to thee, good Sun, spreading thy bountiful rays. Hail to the bustling plain, and to you, ye murmuring lindens. Hail the melodious air sighing the branches among. Hail to thee, azure serene, whose limitless canopy shimmers Over the brown hillside, over the newly green wood — Over me too, who at length escaping my 'prisoning chamber And everlasting talk, joyfully summon thine aid. Softly thine odorous breath pervades and quickens my forces, And a clear flood of light strengthens my famishing eye. Many and strongly defined are the various hues on the meadows. But the dehghtful array yields an harmonious blend. Freely I enter the fields with their rolling carpet of verdure ; Through the enchanting green winds a scarce visible path. 1 The Shadow on the Sun-DiaL 2i6 POEMS OF SCHILLER •J Kound me the bee is busily humming, and skirting the clover. Slowly the butterfly floats, poised on ambiguous v. iug. Glowing strike the rays of the sun, the Zephyrs are idle, Only the song of the lark sounds in the uppermost air. Ah ! but anon in the copse a rustle is heard, and the alders Bow their heads, and the wind swells through the silvery reeds. Lo! I plunge into night ; and rich in ambrosial odours, Beeches over my head tent me in glorious shade. Here in the depths of the wood the landscape has sud- denly vanished. And I steadily mount, led by a sinuous patli. Here and there by stealth through the leafy trellis of branches Pierces a wandering ray, showing the heavens above. Suddenly rises the veil, and the opening glades of the forest Bring my startled eyes back to the glory of day. Far as the eye can reach the scene lies open before me, And yon hazy-blue chain governs the limits of earth. Down at the foot of the hill which opens steeply below me Bubbles a mirror-like stream, eddying merrily by. Both at my feet and above I gaze on the limitless ether, Dizzily look up above, glance with a shudder below. But from the heights above to the everlasting abysses Reaches a guarded stair guiding the wanderer down. Smiling before my eyes are the banks in their wealthy abundance, And the whole blooming vale tells of industrious toil. Look at the rows which mark th' extent of the country- man's holding. Woven by Ceres' self into the tapestried field. POEMS OF SCHILLER 237 Kindly decree of the law, of the Deity watching above us, Since from the brazen world charity faded away. But with a bolder sweep, dividing the orderly [)astures, Sometimes lost in the wood, now on the slope of the hill, Glitters a silvery streak, the broad highway of the country. And the rafts glide by down the immaculate stream. Multiplied over the plain the bells of the cattle are tinkling. And the herdsman's song echoes the only reply. Villages brighten the stream, and hamlets peep through the tliickets. Others behind the hill right on the precipice hang. Loving feelings exist 'twixt man and his neighbourly acres When his own peaceful fields compass his humble abode. Like a familiar friend the vine climbs in at the window, And an affectionate bough circles the house in its arm. Fortunate race of the fields, still all unawakened to freedom. Sharing ahke with thy plains all that the law can bestow. Bound are thy limited hopes by the peaceable cycles of harvest, And thy life rolls on e'en as the task of a day ! — — But what steals away this charming prospect ? A spirit All unknown to me spreads o'er the alien plain. Lightly it sets apart what erst was happily blended. Like consorts with hke ; kin is attracted to kin. Eank I see maintained : the proud generation of poplars, Eanged in orderly pomp, marches with dignified air ; All is ordained by rule, all proves considered intention, And this disciplined train points to the master of all. 238 POEMS OF SCHILLER Gaudily blaze from afar the glittering domes in his honour, Out of the rocky gorge rises the pinnacled town. Into the desert without the fauns of the forest are driven, But devotion lends loftier life to the stone. Closer the bonds are drawn uniting man to his fellows, And a more active world rolls through his orbit of hfe. See ! how the envious forces inflame in the fiery con- test : Much their strife achieves : ah ! but their unity more. Thousands of eager hands by a single spirit are quickened, Deep iu a thousand breasts glows an unanimous heart ; Glows for native land and the honoured laws of their fathers ; Here in the sacred soil rest their illustrious bones. Down from heaven to earth descend the blessed Im- mortals, And in the favoured site plant their decorous abode. Gracious on earth they appear, distributing heavenly bounties ; Ceres gives the plough, Hermes an anchor bestows. Bacchus presents the grape, Minerva the flourishing olive ; And with the warlike steed mighty Poseidon appears. Cybele's hous are yoked to the pole of the peaceable wagon, In through the gate, as a friend, passes the Mother of all. Sacred stones ! From you have the roots of humanity issued, Carrying morals and art down to the isles of the sea. POEMS OF SCHILLER 239 Here at these friendly gates their judgment sages have uttered ; Heroes, rushing to arms, fought for the gods of their home. High on the battlements stood the mothers nursing their infants. And, till lost to their view, gazed on the warrior train. Then they knelt in prayer, and prostrate in front of the altars, Victory asked and fame, begged for your happy return. Victory, honour, were yours ; but there came back only the glory. And the pathetic stone renders account of your deeds. " And if thou comest to Sparta, proclaim, good traveller, yonder How thou hast seen us he here where our duty ordained," Kest, ye beloved, in peace ! by the blood ye so cheer- fully sprinkled, Th' olive thrives, and the seed thanks to your agony swells. Proud of its own free rights, im trammelled industry prospers. Out of the reeds in the brook signs the coerulean God. Crashes the axe on the tree, you may hear the lament of the Dryad ; High from the mountain crest masses are thundering down. Out of its setting of rock the stone by the lever is shifted, And the miner descends into the bowels of earth, Eing the ponderous tones of the hammer on Mulciber's anvil. Splutter the sparks of steel under the sinewy hand. 2 40 POEMS OF SCHILLER Gaily the golden flax winds round the rollicking distaff. 'Tvvixt the threads of warp whizzes the shuttle along, Out in the roadstead cries the pilot, and, resting at anchor, Ships lie ready to bear fruits of our labour abroad ; Others arrive meanwhile, the gifts of the foreigner yielding, Bearing on each high mast fluttering emblems of joy. See how the markets swarm, the centre of active exist- ence. Where such a medley of tongues puzzles the wonder- ing ear. Ou to the neighbouring quays the merchant discharges the harvest Born of a glowing soil, nurtured in Africa's sun. All that Arabia sends, the products of Ultima Thule, All Amalthea receives into her bountiful horn. Godlike children are born to fortune with talent united. Weaned upon freedom's breast flourishes every art. With realistic hfe the painter gladdens the eyesight, And, by the chisel inspired, murmurs the animate stone. Counterfeit heavens repose on slender Ionian pillars, And a Pantheon includes all the Olympian host. Light as the rainbow's leap into space, or the feathering arrow, Springs the arch of the bridge over the blustering stream. — But in his silent cell, designing significant emblems. Muses the sage, and gropes after the secret of life ; Tests the power of matter, the loves and hates of the loadstone. Follows the wavelets of sound, chases in ether the ray, Seeks a familiar law in the terrible marvels of hazard, Seeks th' eternal Pole, all apparitions defied. POEMS OF SCHILLER 241 Letters lend a form and voice to unuttered reflections Down through the centuries' course, borne on the eloquent page. So from the wondering eye rolls back the mist of illusion, And the creations of night yield to the graces of day. Man is bursting his bonds. — The happier ! So that he break not With the shackles of fear, also the bridle of shame. Eeason freedom claims, demands with inordinate ar- dour. Shakes off Nature's yoke, eager to wander alone. See how, caught in the storm, the vessels are dragging their anchors Far from the sheltering land : off they are borne by the tide. Into eternity swept, the coast-Hne vanished behind her, Mastless rolls the bark high on the mountainous wave. Lost in the clouds, the Wain's immutable stars are extinguished. Nothing abides, and doubt lurks in the bosom of God. Banished is truth from speech, from life all faith and religion. And, as it fouls the lips, even the oath is a lie. Into the innermost realms of the heart, of private affection. Severing friend from friend, forces the toady his way. Innocence shrinks from the eye of treachery leering upon her. And with a poisoned shaft slays the calumnious tongue. 242 POEMS OF SCHILLER In the dishonoured breast coarse, venal opinion hovers, Love casts rudely aside sensitive feeling and grace. Thy fair badges, Truth, are assumed by fraud and deception, And they dare to pollute Nature's adorable tones — Tones which the suffering heart in its instants of pleas- ure devises ; Struck untimely dumb, sentiment hardly exists. Justice vaunts on the Bench, unanimity brags in the cottnge. Only the ghost of the law sits on the throne of the King. Long may the mummy endure ; for years to come, and for ages May its deceitful form pass for the fulness of hfe, Until Nature awakes ; and, with hand of heavy correc- tion, 'Gainst this structure of straw time and necessity rise. Like a tigress who, burst through the iron bars of her prison. Suddenly, terribly, dreams of the Numidian groves. So in the madness of crime and want humanity rises. And in the burnt-out town seeks for the Nature of yore. Oh ! then open, ye walls, restore to the prisoner free- dom ! Let him turn with relief back to his pastures again ! — But, where am I ? — The path is lost, and dreadful abysses. Yawning before and behind, hinder my faltering steps. Left behind is the garden's and hedge's familiar escort. And there fades from sight every vestige of man. POEMS OF SCHILLER 243 Matter alone remains from which life's germs are de- veloped, And th' unwrought basalt waits for a fashioning hand. Down through the channels of rock the torrent, noisily plunging, Under the roots of the trees angrily forces a way. Dreary is all around ; in the desolate ocean above me Only the eagle soars, heaven uniting with earth. Never a quivering air buoys up to my lonely position The old sounds which announce human affliction and joy. Am I really alone ? — In thine arms, on thy glorious bosom. Nature, again I repose : and — it was only a dream, Which so filled me with awe : with life thus terribly pictured. And with the wreck of the vale happier visions return. Purer my life I receive from thine immaculate altars. And am cheered once more by the bright promise of youth. Will is for ever changing its laws and purpose; and ever. Clad in a manifold garb, deeds in a circle revolve. But in perennial youth and eternally varying beauty, Nature, thou honourest stdl all the good precepts of old; Ever preservest intact in thy loyal keeping, for man- hood, That which childhood or youth to thy fidelity trusts; Nurturest at one breast the changing cycles of ages. Under the same blue vault, on an identical sward. Neighbourly, hand in hand, are the differing races united, And old Homer's son bhnks upon us with a smile. 244 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE POWER OF SONG. A TORKENT from the fissured rocks With all the din of thunder rolls, The sohd earth its impact shocks, Before it bow the oaken boles ; Transfixed with a voluptuous fear. The wanderer hstens in dismay ; The rock-bound stream bursts on his ear- Yet whence it flows he cannot say. So roll impetuously along The unsuspected floods of song. The minstrel shares the awful might Of those who forge life's tangled chain. Who can his magic members shght, And who ignore his wild refrain ? His cry, by godlike powers sped, Appeals to each impassioned soul ; He seeks the regions of the dead, And soars to where the heavens roll. 'Twixt jest and earnest he can sway Men's minds, and all the gamut play. As when into a scene of mirth Some giant apparition strides — Some phantom of mysterious birth — And, charged with dreadful portents, glides, The earth's exalted recognise The stranger from the other world. No longer senseless revels rise. And every mask aside is hurled ; For falsehood seeks to thrive in vain In mighty Truth's triumphant reign. POEMS OF SCHILLER 245 And so mau's grievances abate When noble song enchants his ear ; He rises to a god's estate And steps into the heavenly sphere. Not gi-eater are the gods than he, No earthly thoughts his soul molest ; From all distractions he is free, No fateful vision mars his rest. Smoothed are the wrinkled lines of care While music's charms the soul ensnare. And as, after heartbreaking pain And separation's bitter grief, The child repentant seeks again Upon his mother's breast relief. So to the thoughts of early days. When innocence was yet unstained, From foreign lands and foreign ways Song brings the wanderer home, regained, To learn in Nature's loving school What ne'er was taught by formal rule. HOPE. Men often speak and dream in hope Of happier days in store ; And toward th' ideal goal they grope, And dream and hope the more. The world grows old and young again. And man goes hoping on in vain. Hope is a witness at his birth, It flutters round his early bloom, Its magic clothes his youth with mirth. Nor quits the graybeard in his tomb. 246 POEMS OF SCHILLER Life's troubles o'er, we still enthrone Hope over his memorial stone. It is no vain deluding thought Which from disordered fancy springs. By hope our hearts are plainly taught That we are born for better things. That inward voice, if we believe, The hoping soul will not deceive. THE SOWER Full of .hope, to the earth the golden seed is entrusted, And thou lookest in Spring for an unmeasured return. But in the furrows of time such deeds art careful to scatter As, in wisdom sown, may to eternity rise ? THE MEECHANT. Whither is bound yon ship ? A Sidonian company mans her, And she hails from the North, loaded with amber and tin. Dandle her softly, winds ; and be thou merciful, Nep- tune, In some sheltering cove find her a potable rill. Dedicated to you, ye gods, is surely the merchant. Wealth he seeks ; but shares with the good vessel his gain. ULYSSES. Traversing every sea on his homeward journey, Ulysses Past Charybdis steered only on Scylla to fall. POEMS OF SCHILLER 247 Subject to perils of earth and the horrible tumults of ocean, Lay liis wandering course, guided him even to hell, Till in the end he was borne asleep to his Ithacan island ; Yet his awakening eyes failed to acknowledge his home ! CARTHAGE. Oh, degenerate child of a noble and glorious mother. Who to the vigour of Eome added the Tyrian's craft ! Eomans sternly ruled the worlds they had taken in action, While the Tyrian taught worlds he had cunningly won. What thine historical fame ? Thou conquerest true, like a Eoman, Sword in hand ; but thy rule savours of Tyrian gold. THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN. Nobly invested are ye, the cross on your panoply wear- in cr Lionlike as ye stand, fighting for Acre and Rhodes, As the trembling palmer ye guide in the Syrian desert, And with a cherubim's sword on to the Sepulchre press. Yet still fairer thy garb when clad in the merciful apron Which (ye lions of fight, sons of a conquering race) Ye endue at the bed of the sick and suffering needy, And with a menial hand render him Christian aid. Faith of the holy Cross, in a merciful chaplet united Round thee, like twin palms, might and humility blend. 248 POEMS OF SCHILLER GEKMAN HONOUR Germany's sceptre to wield claimed both Bavarian Louis And the Hapsburg Fritz, equally summoned to reign. But the fortune of war delivered the Austrian over. Still in the ardour of youth, into the hand of the foe. Eausom ? — the throne he renounced, and swore to abandon his party. And to wield his sword on the victorious side. Under coercion he swore : but free, he repented his error, And of his own free will back to his prison he came. Full of emotion, the foe embraced him, and ever there- after As two friends they shared beaker and trencher alike. Sharing a common couch the princes in harmony slum- bered, While an inveterate hate sundered their peoples apart. Now 'gainst Frederick's host must Louis amain ; and a warder Over Bavaria leaves whom — but his actual foe ? " Ay, and the story is true ! It is true, for I have it in writing ! " When he was told the tale, so did the Pontifex cry. COLUMBUS. On, thou mariner bold ! though wags look on in deri- sion, Tliough the sailor o'ercome drop from the tiller his hand. POEMS OF SCHILLER 249 On, ever on to the West ! for the land is undoubtedly westward, As thy reason avers and a presentiment tells. Trust in the guiding of God and the murmuring paths of the ocean. Were it till now unborn, ocean would come to thine aid. Genius hand in hand with Nature is ever united. Genius animates hope, Nature the promise performs. POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM. What new marvel is this ? We prayed for drinkable waters, What strange fruit is this, dear Mother Earth, of thy womb ? Is there life in the pit ? Is there dwelling under the lava ? Some generation unknown ? Does the departed return ? Come, ye Eomans and Greeks ! Behold your ancient Pompeii Rises, and here stands Hercules' city anew. Gable on gable ascends, the generous portal is open. Hither approach with speed, hasten to people its halls ! Lo ! the theatre invites ; let the populace, earnestly pressing Through its seven-fold doors jostle their emulous way. And do ye, Mimes, come forth ; complete thine obla- tion, Atrides, While to Orestes' ear sadly the chorus appeals. Whither conducts yon arch ? Dost thou distinguish the Forum ? Look at the curule chair : whose are the figures I see ? 250 POEMS OF SCHILLER Lictors, bear your fasces on high ! In front of the Praetor At the judgment seat witness and plaintiff appear. Orderly streets their breadth display ; with loftier pavement Branch the narrow lanes winding the houses among. Far the sheltering eaves project, the dainty apartments Eound the sequestered court nestle in cosy array. Open the shutters wide and the doors with long- stiffened hinges ! Where black night has prevailed enter the glamour of day ! See, how round by the wall the rows of benches are ordered. And as with precious stones sparkles the floor in relief. Merrily glow the walls with fresh and brilhant colours ; Where is the artist, whose brush toiled but a moment ago ? Rich with swelling fruit and chosen blossoms, the garlands Compass a charming view set in a flowery frame. Here with his baskets filled a Cupid is gliding, and yonder Eed-stained toilers stand busily treading the wine. High the Bacchante leaps in her dance, or in slumber reposes. While the lurking faun peeps with insatiate eye. Hither in whimsical course the galloping Centaur she urges ; Hovering on one knee, gaily the thyrsus applies. Lads, why tarry ye ? Here ! the well-fashioned vessels await you ; Hither, ye maidens, and draw from the Etrurian jar ! Is not the tripod at hand, upborne by the wings of the sphinxes ? Stir the fire ! and haste, minister, slaves, to the hearth ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 251 Purchase ! and here are coins by the powerful Titus imprinted ; Even the scale lies here, never a weight is astray. Place the burning lights in the dainty and elegant sockets, Let the lamp be charged full of diaphanous oil ; What does tliis box contain ? Ah ! see what the bridegroom has ordered, Maiden, circlets of gold ; jewels thy dress to adorn ! Lead the bride to the odorous bath, the ointments are handy, In the crystal vase, traces of rouge I espy. — But, say, where are the men ? In the sterner do- main of the study Lie in a priceless heap numbers of curious scrolls. Here are tablets of wax and styles — all writing uten- sils : — Never a thing lost, faithfully guarded in earth. All the Penates are here, each god puts in an appearance ; How is it all are found saving the Priesthood alone ? Merrily waving his wand, behold the hght-footed Hermes, And from his steady hand victory surely proceeds. Eeady and waiting stand the altars : oh ! come and ignite them ; Long has waited the god : offer th' oblation at last. THE ILIAD. Pluck from the garland of Homer, and number the tale of the Fathers, Who have contributed all, parts of the epic sublime ! But one mother above it acknowledges, and her ap- pearance Her personality tells — Nature, her features are thine ! 252 POEMS OF SCHILLER ZEUS TO HEEACLES. Not my nectar it was to thee which godhead ac- corded ; Thy god-grauted might pounced on the nectar amain. THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHEEN WAN- DEEEE. EiVERS have been no bar, thou hast faced the terrors of ocean, And in the loftiest alps dizzying arches hast dared Me in my home to see, and yield me intimate honour, Such as the voice of the world yields in inspired acclaim. Now in my presence thou art, my sanctified essence is o'er thee. Yet are we nearer akin ? Which can appreciate which ? THE MINSTEELS OF OLD TIME. Where is that glorious host of strong and melodious minstrels Whose inspiring strains ravished the senses of men — Who could conjure the gods to earth, waft mortals to heaven, And exalted the soul to a poetical flight ? Singers indeed there are : 'tis heroic achievements are wanting. POEMS OF SCHILLER 253 And a receptive ear, lyrical passion to rouse, Happy ye minstrels of old, when the voices of each generation Passed your stories down to generations unknown. Welcoming him as a God, the world devoutly accepted What his genius bore, what he created and taught. By the romance of his song was kindled the listener's ardour, And the emotion aroused fed the poetical fire — Fed it and also purged ! Ah, fortunate he, that a peo- ple With universal acclaim joyfully echoed his lay, And that here in the world existed a spirit to aid him. Such as a bard of to-day scarce can awake in his heart. NENIA. Beauty itself must die ! Though it subjugate men and immortals, Yet it can never appeal unto the Stygian god. Love but once in his life could move the ruler of Hades, Who on the threshold then sternly regretted his vow. Not Aphrodite herself could heal the wounds of Adonis, Torn in his delicate skin by the redoubtable boar. Nor was the hero saved at Troy by his mother immor- tal When at the gate he died, falling as destiny bade. But from the deep she rose with all the daughters of Nereus, Wailing long and loud for her illustrious son. Gods and goddesses all lament in unanimous an- guish That the beautiful dies, fades the ideal away. 254 POEMS OF SCHILLER Even a dirge of lament we prize from the lips of our dear ones, For the dishonoured and mean creep into Orcus un- sung. THE CHILD AT PLAY. Play in thy mother's lap ! In that holy inviolate island, Child, no cares exist, nor does anxiety frown. Dandled above the abyss in the loving embrace of a mother, Smihng thou mayst glance down on the tumult of earth. Play, then, innocent child ! Arcadia still is around thee, Nature uncontrolled loves an hilarious mood. Eor the voluptuous art fictitious borders arranges, Willing as is thy soul, lacking are duty and aim. Play ! For anon will come the days of compulsory labour, And from a task imposed pleasure and humour re- coil. THE SEXES. Lo ! in the tender child two charming flowers united ! In one common bud maiden and youth are concealed. Gently the bond is relaxed, diverge the different in- stincts. And from the blushes of grace passionate energy parts. Grudge not the boy his sport, let him revel in boister- ous ardour ; Natural vigour appeased, grace and refinement appear. POEMS OF SCHILLER 255 Bursting its swollen bud, the twofold flower emerges, But the blooms demand more than thy passionate heart. Swells the maidenly form in soft exuberant outline. And her pride safeguards, stern as the girdle, her charms. Shy as the tremulous roe that the horn alarms in the forest, Man she hates and shuns, all unacquainted with love. Stubbornly glares the youth from under his lowering eyebrows. And for the fray prepared, stretches his every nerve. Into the thick of the fight and into the dusty arena Blithely he pushes his way honour and glory to win. Nature, defend thy work ! what should be for ever united Surely will break apart but for thy fostering hand. Mighty one, thou art there already ; from angry con- fusion Thou hast been able to call forth an harmonious peace. Hushed is the sound of the chase, the day's perpetual murmurs Die away, and the stars gently drop into the sphere. Whispering sigh the reeds, the brooks flow murmuring onward, And Philomela's song fills the harmonious grove. What provokes this sigh from the heaving breast of the maiden ? Stripling, whence are the tears silently dimming thine eye ? _ Vainly an object she seeks for her soft confiding em- braces. And the rich ripe fruit bows to the earth with its weight. 2S6 POEMS OF SCHILLER Striving ever, the youth is consumed in the flame he has kindled, Nor is the wasting glow cooled by a tempering air. Lo! in the end they meet: 'tis love that has brought them together. And to the wings of the god pinioned victory cleaves. Love divine, it is thou who joinest humanity's blossoms, Parted though they be, and dost unite them for aye ! THE INFLUENCE OF WOMAN. Mighty thou art in the strength of thy calm unruffled enchantments ; For tranquillity's spell bustle can never achieve. Force I expect in man, defending the canons of order ; But let woman alone through her amenity rule. Many indeed have ruled by dint of ideas and action, But they had not thee, noblest adornment of all. No true queen there is but woman's womanly beauty, By mere presence it rules, dominant where it appears. THE DANCE. See, how the couple revolve in undulatory motion Gliding, the winged foot scarcely oppresses the earth. Are these phantoms of air that I see, released from the body ? Or are they moonlight elves winding in merry array ? Light as the smoke which wreathes through space at the touch of the Zephyr, Light as the dancing skifl" borne on the silvery tide, Capers the disciplined foot to the tune's melodious measure ; And the murmuring strings buoy up the body in air. POEMS OF SCHILLER 257 Now, as though they would burst by force through the ranks of the dancers, Eight in the thick of the crowd whirls an hilarious pair. Eapidly opens a path in front, and closes behind them ; Opened and shut is the way as by a magical hand. Lo ! they have vanished from sight ; involved in utter confusion • Crumbles the edifice fair built of this versatile world. Stay, it rises again, its intricate fetters escaping ; Tis the established rule, only with varying charm. Oft destroyed, so oft new life creation engenders. And to a silent law each metamorphosis owns. Say, how is it that, ever replaced, the figures are reeling, Yet there exists repose in the light, fl!exible form ? How that each one is free, his own heart's counsel obeying. The true path to find, spite of his hurrying course ? Wouldst thou know the reason ? 'Tis euphony's might that imposes Form on the sociable dance, curbs the too-boisterous bound ; Which, like Nemesis, calms with the golden bridle of measure Over-exuberant mirth, and the intractable tames. Do they appeal in vain, the sphere's harmonious num- bers ? Art thou not carried away, rapt, in the rhythmical stream ? Eapt, in the cadence subhme which all creation is beating ? Eapt, in the eddying dance, which through the ocean of space Launches ghttering suns in bold meandering courses ? Measure, all honoured in sport, thou dost in action abjure. 2S8 POEMS OF SCHILLER FORTUNE. Happy the man whom the gods have graciously held in affection Yet unborn, whose youth Venus has nursed in her arms. Phoebus has shaped his eyes, his lips are chiselled by Hermes, And the signet of might Zeus has impressed on his brow ! What an illustrious fate, what a godlike future awaits him. Ere the strife has begun gaily liis temples are crowned. Ere he has lived, to him the measure of life is awarded, Ere he has met with pain Charis has flown to his aid. Surely the man is great who, by his original instinct And by Virtue's aid, singly encounters the Fates. Fortune alone he fails to compel ; what Charis denies him. Jealously holding her hand, valour can never attain. From whatever is base an earnest will can preserve thee, All that is worthy the gods freely and amply be- stow. As thou art loved by thy love, so shower the bounties of Heaven ; Equally Cupid and Jove give partiality rein. Favourites have the gods ; they love the natural ring- lets Crowning youth, for the gay happiness bring in their wake. Not unto those who can see do the gods vouchsafe their appearance ; Their magnificent pomp realise only the blind. POEMS OF SCHILLER 259 Gladly they light for choice on the mind of innocent childhood, And to the modest void heavenly notions impart. Unexpected they come and cheat proud anticipations, Their spontaneous course no jurisdiction compels. Straight to the man of his choice the Father of men and Immortals Sends his eagle down, summoning him to the skies. Guided alone by his will, from amidst the many he chooses. And on the brow he prefers twines with affectionate hand Now the laurel wreath, and anon the fillet of power, But the Deity crowns only established success. On the fortunate waits Phcebus, the Pythian hero, And the compeller of hearts, jovial, smiling Amor. Even the sea for him Poseidon levels, and easy Glides the keel which bears Caesar and all his success. Low at his feet the lion hes down, and the arrogant dolphin Rising out of the sea, piously offers his back. Blame not the fortunate man that the gods have aided his triumph, And that her pet from the fight Venus has hurried away. Him, whom the goddess preserves, the favoured of Heaven, I envy, Not the man she ignores, wrapt in the blindness of night. Was the renown of Achilles a whit less great that Hephaestus Forged his ponderous shield, tempered his terrible blade — That the concerns of men should occupy mighty Olympus ? Eather his fame is enhanced that he was worthy such love, 26o POEMS OF SCHILLER That it respected his wrath and, wilhng to add to his glory, Plunged in the fathomless pit all the selected of Greece. Blame not beauty because she is beautiful, and without effort, Thanks to Venus' gifts, fair as the lily-cup shines ! Grant that Fortune is hers, still fortunate thou in beholding ! Is she so easily fair ? still thou enjoyest her charms. Happy thou that the gift of song has descended from Heaven, And for thee the Bard sings what he learns from the muse ! Quickened himself by the god, a god he becomes to his hearers. Thanks to his Fortune it is thou canst fehcity share. Guarding the busy exchange, let Themis attend with her balance. And mete out the reward strictly according to toil ; None but a god can summon delight to the face of a mortal. Where no miracle works Fortune to none can accrue. All that is human must first be born, grow fuller, and ripen. And the improver. Time, cherishes every stage ; But nor Fortune nor Grace canst thou mark as they come into being ; All complete they are, born of Eternity's womb. Every Venus of earth, like the Venus of heaven, arises, A mysterious birth, out of the depths of the sea. Just as Minerva of old came forth equipped in her aegis Springs from the Tlmnderer's head every luminous thought. POEMS OF SCHILLER 2G1 GENIUS. " Do I," thou askest, " believe what the masters of learning have taught me ? What their disciples' band boldly and promptly affirm ? Can erudition alone to true satisfaction upraise me, And does System alone justice and fortune uphold ? Shall I the impulse distrust, or neglect the whispering precepts Which thy very self, Nature, has stamped in my heart. Till on the wearisome theme the schools their seal have imprinted, And the volatile mind Formula's fetters have bound ? Tell me — for thou didst once in these profundities flounder, And from the mouldering grave compassed a happy return — Knowest thou what is stored in the vaults of ambiguous language. Whether the hopes of the world hold where the mummies abide 1 Must I travel this dismal path? — I shudder — and own it ! — Travel I will if it lead really to justice and truth." — Friend, hast heard of the Golden Age ? The poets have left us Many a tale thereanent, simply and touchingly told. Happy days ! ere yet from life the holy had vanished ; When was held in esteem maidenly gentle reserve ; When the omnipotent law, which rules the celestial courses, Lying concealed in the germ, quickened the atom to life ; 262 POEMS OF SCHILLER When necessity's law, in calm unvarying silence, E'en in the hearts of men roused a more liberal wave ; When the unerring mind, exact as the hand on the dial, Pointed above to truth, only to what could endure. Then no scoffer arose, no special priesthood existed, What was brimming with life nobody sought iu the tomb. Patent to every heart stood forth the unchangeable precept, But the scource was concealed whence it so happily flowed. Ah ! those joyous days are gone ! And an obstinate blindness, Founded on absolute will, Nature's repose has destroyed. In the polluted sense no longer the voice of the God- head Sounds ; in the blunted heart silent the oracle grows. Only in innermost self the straining spirit may hear it, Where the sense is preserved safe by the mystical word. Here with purest heart the inquirer gravely adjures it. And the instinct old gives him his wisdom again. If it was never thy fate to lose thy guardian angel, Nor with indifferent ear warnings of conscience to heed. If in thine unblanched gaze immaculate truth is depicted. And her voice still rings clear in thine innocent breast, If thy placid mind to mutinous doubt is a stranger. If thou canst now predict doubt will be silent for aye. If thy tumultuous thoughts ne'er stand in need of an umpire. Nor sound sense be dulled by an insidious heart — POEMS OF SCHILLER 263 Fortunate man, then go thy way in thine innocent virtue ! Science has nothing for thee ; rather her teacher be thou ! Yonder brazen law, which rigidly governs the masses. Is not thine. — Thy law is what thou likest and dost. And as a word of command goes forth to all generations, . What from thy hand proceeds, falls from thy sancti- fied lips. Will with amazing force affect the excited emotions : Only thou failst to perceive, throned in thy bosom, the God, And the powerful seal which humbles all spirits before thee, But through the vanquished world calmly pursuest thy way. THE PHILOSOPHICAL EGOTIST. Hast thou observed the babe who, ignorant of the affection Which his cradle surrounds, sleeps through each changing embrace, Till in a natural burst the passions of youth are awakened, And the first conscious flash suddenly shows him the world ? Hast thou the mother observed, who purchases sleep for her darling At the cost of her own, tenderly guarding his dreams, With her own very hfe supporting his feeble existence, And in her deep concern finds a sufficient reward ? And dost thou speak ill of Nature which, Mother and infant, Gives, receives, and exists, but as necessity bids ? 264 POEMS OF SCHILLER Wouldst thou, self-contained, withdraw from the heavenly circle, Which in affectionate bonds creature with creature connects ? Willst thou pose alone, and alone of deliberate pur- pose, When by exchange of force even Eternity stands ? THE WORDS or FAITH. Three words of significant import I name, And lips to each other impart ; From no indiscriminate sources they came, But their origin have in the heart. And unless these words form part of his creed, Man is a pitiful creature indeed. Man was created, and man is, free, No matter if born in chains : Let the cry of the rabble pass over thee, And the howl of extravagant swains ! Of no free man stand thou in fear, Nor of slave who has conquered a free career. And Virtue is more than an echoing call. For it serves man day by day. And though he may blunder and stumble and fall, He can aim at the virtuous way. And what from the wiseacre oft is concealed Is as oft to the soul of the simple revealed. And a God there is, whose will compels The wavering mind of men, And thought of the loftiest order swells Beyond time's wildest ken. POEMS OF SCHILLER 265 Though the world in eternal vicissitude roll, There is ever repose for the peaceable soul. Preserve these three great words that I name, One lip to another impart, Though not from extraneous sources they came. But their origin have in the heart. So long as these words form part of his creed, Man is a creature of worth indeed. THE WORDS OF EEROR Three words of significant meaning there are In the mouths of the wisest and best. Yet vainly they echo, like tones from afar, And yield no assistance or rest. Man forfeits the fruits he could lightly attain If after impalpable shadows he strain. So long as he pictures a glorious age, Rejoicing in honour and right — Those gifts will assuredly combat engage With a foe who for ever will fight. Thou must at him in air, for a contact with earth Supplies to his force a regenerate birth. So long as he thinks that success will attend On nobility's conduct and aims — He will find that she looks upon wrong as a friend, That the world what is worthy disclaims. A wanderer he, and his duty to roam To discover elsewhere an immutable home. So long as he dreams that the reason of man Can with absolute verities close — He will find an abyss which no mortal can span ; We can but assume and suppose. 266 POEMS OF SCHILLER In a word, it is true, thou canst prison the mind, But it surges away on the wings of the wiud. Then hasten thy soul from illusions to wean, And a higher religion endue ! What the ear never heard, and the eye has not seen EemaiDS what is lovely and true ! It is not abroad, as the foolish contends, 'Tis withiu, and upon thine own ardour depends. LIGHT AND WAKMTH. The worthy man with trust receives What in the world he fiads ; And, self ignoring, he believes In hope for noble minds ; And dedicates, with ardour warm, In Truth's defence, his trusty arm. But all too soon, alas, he learns How puny life has grown ; And in the struggle only yearns To guard and keep his own. His heart, with cold, indifferent pride Even from love now turns aside. Ah ! Even Truth's celestial rays Can lose their wonted fire. Woe be to them whose conscience pays For knowledge they acquire. 'Tis well th' enthusiast's warmth to share With worldly-wise yet prudent care ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 267 THE GUIDES OF LIEE; OB THE BEAUTIFUL AND THE SUBLIME. Two mysterious powers in life's excursion attend thee. Happy it is for thee if they unite in thine aid. One with enlivening art beguiles the wearisome journey : — light, as thou hangst on his arm, duty and destiny seem. Merrily he conducts till, liigh on the pinnacle stand- ing, Down he bids thee peer over Eternity's sea. Here with a resolute mien and grim the other awaits thee, Bears thee over the deep with an imperious arm. Never alone in one confide: To the former thine honour Thou must never entrust, nor to the latter thine aims. AECHIMEDES AND THE SCHOLAR Once on a time an inquisitive youth approached Archimedes : " Teach me, I pray," he cried, " teach me the heavenly art, Which in thy competent hand to the State such profit has yielded, And has guarded our walls 'gainst the beleaguering host." 268 POEMS OF SCHILLER " ' Heavenly ' namest thou Art ? ' Divine ' she is, of a surety," Quoth the sage, " and was, ere she protected our arms. Just her fruit to attain the merest mortal is able ; But, an a goddess ye woo, seek not a woman alone ! " HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. Just because thou readest in Nature what thou hast written, Just because thine eye all her phenomena marks, Eeckoning on the bonds which man upon Nature im- poses. Does thy mind presume infinite Nature to know. So the Astronomer's art lays out the chart of the heavens Better his way to steer through inaccessible space ; Suns in a focus he brings though by infinity parted, Mates the distant swan with the redoubtable bull. But can he comprehend the spheres' mysterious orbit Merely because on a globe planets in order appear ? HONOURS. How do the flashes of hght on the mirror-like rivulet sparkle Seems the golden marge with its own ardour aglow. But the ripples are carried adown the glittering highway Forcing each other along, feather, and hasten away : — Such is the fugitive spark which man denominates honour ; Not he shines, but the scene, where he may happen to be. POEMS OF SCHILLER 269 THE TWO PATHS OF VIRTUE. Twofold is the road by which a man is exalted ; If in the one he fail, open the other appears. This to patience appeals, and that to vigorous action, Happy the man whose fate grants him a portion of each. ZENITH AND NADIR EoAM as thou willst through space, thy zenith and nadir unite thee Both to the heaven above, and to the axis of earth. Whatsoever thou dost, let heaven be fraught of thy purpose. And let earth itself witness afford to thy deed ! IDEAL FREEDOM. When life comes to an end, two roads before thee are open ; To th' ideal this, that to eternity leads. While time still permits, be sure thou choose the ideal. Lest to death thou drift under the finger of fate. THE CHILD IN THE CRADLE. Fortunate babe, for thee there is infinite space in a cradle. But to accommodate man even the universe fails. THE UNCHANGEABLE. Time irrevocably flies, toward changeless eternity wending. Thou canst fetter time if thou art honest and true. 270 POEMS OF SCHILLER VOTIVE TABLETS. INSPIRATION. In the organic, sensitive world no novelty rises, Save where flowers bloom — highest achievement of earth. TWO METHODS. Do what is good, and man thou teachest all that is holy ; Picture the fair, and so sprinkle the heavenly seed. DIFFERENT STANDPOINTS. Fashion has degrees in the world : contemptible natures Reckon on what they do ; noble assert what they are. WORTH and worthiness. If thou anything hast, why, let me purchase an item ; If thou anything art, let us effect an exchange. MORAL force. Lacking a sense of the fine, ye can always cultivate reason ; What to the man is a blank, imagination achieves. shares. Even an impious hand can Truth's omnipotence order: But the measure to fill Beauty availeth alone. to X. Give me a share of thy knowledge, and, friend, I will eagerly take it. But an thou offer thyself, pray my excuses accept. POEMS OF SCHILLER 271 TO X. X. Thou wouldst teach me truth ? — Nay, spare the trouble ! the object Not through thee do I seek ; by it will estimate thee. TO X. X. X. Thee would I have for a mentor and friend. Thy hving ideal Teaches me, and thy words sink to the depth of my heart. THE LEARNED WORKMAN. Never a taste has he of the fruit which springs from his labour ; Appetite only enjoys what erudition has sown. THE PROPER IDEAL. All may share thy thoughts : thine own is only thy feeling. Wouldest thou own him, feel, do not imagine, thy God. THE CRITIC. Strict as my conscience itself, thou noticest all mine offences : Therefore I love thee as well as — mine own con- science, at least. WISDOM AND PRUDENCE. Wouldst thou attain, my friend, to the highest circles of wisdom ? Venture on every risk ; prudence can whisper aside : The short-sighted observe the receding river bank only, Never the one that will he presently under thy feet. 272 POEMS OF SCHILLER AGREEMENT. Truth we both of us seek ; thou in life's strenuous action, I in the heart, and so each his desire attains. From without the eye, if healthy, regards the Creator, And beholds within, as in a mirror, the heart. MAJESTAS POPULL Majesty of maukiud ! In the haunts of man shall I seek thee ? Thou hast been hitherto with a minority found. Only a few there are who count, the others are ciphers ; And what prizes exist in the commotion are lost. TO A REFORMER. " I HAVE given my all," thou sayst, " for human advan- tage ; But in vain, for I earned enmity only and hate." Shall I explain, my friend, what my relation to man is ? Trust the proverb, which yet never has led me astray. As for Humanity's self, who can too highly esteem it? Be it impressed in deeds as to thy soul it appears. If in the struggle of life some mortal jostle against thee, Help him, if thou mayst, with a benevolent hand. But — for the rain and dew and the general good of the people — Leave it to heaven, my friend : heaven exists, as of yore. MY ANTIPATHY. Crime sincerely I hate, and hate with a special aversion Since it brings in its train wearisome prattle of good. " Good thou mockest ? " — Nay, let all continue its practice, But, for heaven's sake, prate of it never again. POEMS OF SCHILLER 273 TO THE ASTRONOMERS. Tell me no more, I pray, of your suns and nebulous hazes ; Think you Nature is vast only to set you a sum ? Nothing in infinite space is so august as your object, But there is nought august, friend, in indefinite space. ASTRONOMICAL LORE. Measureless an it extend — the noble arena of heaven. Heaven is dragged by fools down to the level of earth. WITHIN AND WITHOUT. " God alone sees into the heart." 'Tis an adequate reason Why we too should see something of wholesome repute. FRIEND AND FOE. Dearly I honour a friend, but an enemy too has his uses ; Friends point out what I can, enemies show what I ought. LIGHT AND COLOUR. Make thy lasting abode where fixed Eternity dwelleth ! Come, ye varying hues, come and illuminate man ! true INDIVIDUALITY. Single it is thy lot to be — not part of a total — Reason plants thee alone, and acquiesces the heart. Thou and thy heart are one, thy reason is only a frag- ment. Fortunate thou if for aye reason abide in thine heart. 2 74 POEMS OF SCHILLER VAKIETY. Plenty are good and wise, but they only count as a sample, For o'er them not heart, but an idea has sway. And the idea is sad, from a thousand varying emblems Nothing bringing to light but a necessitous one. But life rollicks along content in the presence of beauty, Knows in a thousand forms to metamorphose that ONE. THE THKEE AGES OF NATUKE. Fable endowed her hfe, by later learning arrested ; But to an active life reason attracts her anew. THE IMITATOR. Good from good to extract — that hes in the power of all men ; Good to derive from ill Genius only achieves. Only on what is achieved 'tis worth to found imita- tions ; What is original pleads only to natures inspired. GENIALITY. How does Genius stamp its presence ? Why, as the Creator With His presence adorns Nature and infinite space. Clear is the ether above, and yet 'tis a measureless ocean, Eye may see it indeed, but the intelligence fails. AN AWKWARD COUPLE. Why are taste and genius only so rarely united ? Taste is afraid of strength, genius hates to be held. POEMS OF SCHILLER 275 COKRECTNESS. Free from blame to appear is at once the meanest and highest ; It is achieved by the great and by the feeble alone. THE LAW OF NATURE. So it has always been, my friend, and will be for ever : Feebleness works by rule ; vigour achieves a result. CHOICE. If thy work and deeds are not attractive to all men, Try to attract the few : — folly to humour a crowd. THE SCIENCE OF MUSIC. Art may imitate hfe, and a bard may quicken our instincts ; But the appeal of a soul only Polymnia knows. THE GIRDLE. Under a girdle her grace Aphrodite in mystery harbours ; Modesty veiled it is which her attraction adorns. THE DILETTANTE. Just on the strength of a verse achieved, with an adequate accent, Which thy judgment approves — art thou a poet indeed ? THE TATTLER OF ART. All that in Art is best, thou askest ? But were it fitting ? Art thou worthy the good, antagonistic in aim ? 276 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE PHILOSOPHIES. Which will abide amid all the philosophies ? Marry, I know not ; But Philosophy's self — may it eternally live. THE BEST FOPwM OF GOVERNMENT. That I reckon as best which renders it easy to all men Good to think, and yet forces a moral on none. TO LEGISLATORS. Ye may ever assume that man, as a corporate body, Means well, but take heed never to reckon on one. THE WORTHY. Pay respect to the whole : individuals only I honour But each one I regard only as part of a whole. A FALSE IMPULSE TO STUDY. Ah ! How many a foe has Truth ! My soul is in an- guish As the owls I observe forcing a way to the light. REJUVENESCENCE. Nay, 'tis not a romance — in streams adolescence aboundeth. Where ? thou askest : — Apply to the poetical art. POEMS OF SCHILLER 277 THE CIKCLE OF NATUEE. In thy happy domain is all comprised, and a graybeard Harks in childlike age back to the days of his youth. THE GENIUS WITH THE INVERTED TORCH. Fair he is to behold with torch no longer illumined ; But, my good friends. Death is no apostle of art. THE VIRTUE OF WOMAN. Virtues a man must have through life's wild medley to bear him ; So with a fortune assured into the battle he goes. But for a woman enough is a single virtue, appealing Lovingly to the heart, and, let us hope, to the eye ! BEAUTY AT ITS BEST. Hast thou never beheld the fair in a moment of anguish ? Then never hast thou observed absolute beauty at all. Hast thou marked how pleasure illumines adorable features ? No ? — Then pleasure to thee still is a pleasure un- known. THE FORUM OF WOMAN. Woman, do not judge man's each individual action Harshly ; but, an ye will, criticise man as a whole. 278 POEMS OF SCHILLER FEMININE JUDGMENT. Man relies on facts, but love is the test of a woman ; If she do not love, sentence is entered at once. THE FEMININE IDEAL. TO AMANDA. Woman in all things yields to man, except in the highest ; There the strongest man is of a woman the slave. And what is the highest ? A radiant halo of glory. Such as, Amanda, compels from thine immaculate brow. When the mist floats over the orb, his splendour ob- scuring. Fairer appears the scene drawn in the shimmering air. Is man free ? Thou art ! Thine indispensable free- dom No hesitation knows, never necessity heeds. What thou givest is ever a wJwle ; complete thou art always, And thy gentlest chord is thine harmonious whole. Here is eternal youth in never exhausted abundance, And thou pluckest at once flower and harvest alike. HOPE AND FULFILMENT. Confident in his ship, the youth goes down to the ocean : Gray he returns, and wrecked, into the harbour again. POEMS OF SCHILLER 279 THE COMMON LOT. How do we quarrel and hate, divided in hope and in- tention ; Yet thy locks, hke mine, steadily grizzle the while. HUMAN PEKFOEMANCE. At the beginning appears the road to eternity open, But the shghtest bend even the wisest appals. THE FATHER. Steive as best thou may, a lonely position awaits thee, TUl perforce thou become part of the natural whole. LOVE AND DESIRE. Teue ! Man loves what he has, and hopes for all that he has not ; None but rich minds love, only the indigent ask. TRIFLES. THE EIGHT-LINED STANZA. Stanza thou wert by love in its yearning fancy created — Thrice thou fliest away, thrice to be with us again. THE TKIUMPHAL AECH. " Feae ye not," the master exclaimed, " my bow in the heavens ; Like it, so shalt thou into eternity reach." 28o POEMS OF SCHILLER THE BEAUTIFUL BRIDGE. Under me are the waves, the wagons thunder above me; Kindly the master allows me to pass over as well. GERMANY AND HER PRINCES. Many a monarch has earned thy faithful worthy allegiance, Only the subject's will strengthens the governor's arm. Germany, if thou canst, for thy rulers render it harder Great as kings to appear, easy to posture as men. TO PROSELYTISERS. " Give me a scrap of soil outside the bounds of the planet," Said the godlike man, " so can I lever the earth." But for an instant take mine own identity from me. And in the flash of an eye I will appropriate yours. THE CONNECTING LINK. How does Nature proceed the high and lowly to mingle Here upon earth ? She lets vanity balance between. THE MOMENT. With the Century comes a great and critical epoch ; But that epoch finds no generation of worth. POEMS OF SCHILLER 281 GEEMAN COMEDY. Fools and caricatures we have indeed by the dozen ; But unluckily these comedy do not abet. A BOOKSELLER'S ADVERTISEMENT. Nothing imports a man so much as to have a vocation ; For twelve groschen in cash, friend, you may purchase one here. DANGEROUS CONSEQUENCES. Fkiends, take heed before your deeper feelings avowing; Once committed, you'll have every one on to your back. THE GREEK SPIRIT. Scarce has the agued chill of Gallomania left us, Than in a feverish blind heat Grecomauia comes. What did Greekism mean ? Intelligence, easy Pro- portion ! Then, good sirs, I beg, let Grecomania lie ! Worthy the cause ye espouse ; but pray pursue it in reason, Lest to derision it lead, and to derision alone. CHILDREN OF THE SABBATH. Years the master strives, his object seldom achieving ; To a receptive race all were explained in a dream. What they yesterday learned to-day they would urge upon others ; Ah, these gentlemen have little compassion indeed. 282 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE PHILOSOPHEES. AKISTOTLE. Come to the point, my friend ; we take the Jena Gazette here Down in Hell, so we know all that a body may need. FIRST PHILOSOPHER. Cogito, ergo sum. — I think, so have an existence ! Is the premiss assured, certainly true is the rest. PUPIL. Then if I think, I am ; but I can't be eternally think- ing. And I have lived for long, guiltless of ever a thought. SECOND PHILOSOPHER. Since existence there is, there is also a super-existence ; In that state we float, floundering, every one. THIRD PHILOSOPHER. I say just the reverse. / only have an existence ; Everything outside me is but a bubble of air. FOURTH PHILOSOPHER. I will admit two things exist — a world and a spirit ; Nothing more, and these really synonymous are. FIFTH PHILOSOPHER. Of your existence I know — well, nought — and nought of your spirit ; Both I vaguely discern, but they are phantoms alone. POEMS OF SCHILLER 283 SIXTH PHILOSOPHEK. I am I, and establish myself, and if I establish That disestablished I am, there is a negative proved. PUPIL. Oh ! I observe when a man has no more sensible answer, Plump he makes a plunge into the conscience at once. A POINT OF LAW. Many a year have I used my nose for the purpose of smelling; Now I desire to know, have I, as user, a right ? PUFFENDOKF. Eather an awkward point ! But you prove early possession, Which is much : so I say, use it again and again ! SCRUPLES OF CONSCIENCE. Ever I seek my friends to oblige, and, unluckily, like it; For then conscience asks: where does the virtue come in ? CONCLUSION. Only one method I see, do what you can to despise them; Then you may sulkily yield all that a conscience demands. 284 POEMS OF SCHILLER G. G. Man, considered alone, is a sensible creature accounted ; But regard him in bulk, and what a blockhead is he! A TRICK. WouLDST thou please at a stroke the pious and also the earthly ? Paint a voluptuous scene, throwing the Evil One in. KNOWLEDGE. Knowledge to one appeals as a goddess indeed ; to another Knowledge is only a cow, milkable every day. KANT AND HIS INTEEPRETERS. How one wealthy man can make the indigent easy ! When a sovereign builds, carters have plenty to do. SHAKESPEARE'S GHOST. (a paeody.) In the end I beheld great Hercules' wondrous achieve- ments. And his shade. — Himself was not, alas, to be seen. Like birds screaming aloft, I heard the Tragedians' out- cry, And like yelping dogs, bayed Dramaturgists around. POEMS OF SCHILLER 285 Terrible stood the monster there. His bow was ex- tended, And th' impatient bolt steadily bore on the heart. "What adventurous act wouldst thou, unfortunate, hazard, That thou seekst the damned here in a bottomless hell ? " — " I am here to ask the seer Tiresias only • Where I may hope to find haply the buskin of old." — " If they Nature despise and the ancient Greeks, 'tis a pity Vainly to drag to the fore thy dramaturgy for them." — Nature postures again in our dramatic arena. Naked as she can be, evident every rib. " What, can you let me see that old and adorable bus- kin, Which to attain I plunged into the Stygian night ? " — Such apparitions are past, and tragedy. Scarce in a yard's length Goes thy harnessed soul grudgingly on to the boards. " Good ! Philosophy has your finer feelings exalted, And a humourous sense drives irritation away." — " Give me a downright dry old jest — 'tis agreeable fool- Though, if humid enough, sorrow is able to please." — " Can I note at a glance Thalia's exquisite motions And the stately step taught by Melpomene's art?" — " Neither ! We only regard the moral, Christian affec- tions, Simple and homelike truths, which popularity bring." — " What ! No Caesar upon your boards, no mighty Achilles ? Is Andromache gone ? does not Orestes appear ? " — 286 POEMS OF SCHILLER " No ! But there are priests and shrewd commercial attaches, Subalterns aud scribes, majors enough of hussars." — " But, I pray you, my friend, what can such a laughable medley Do that is really great ; greatness how can they achieve ? " — " What ? Why, nurture cabals, lend money at usury, pocket Silver spoons, nor hold pillory even in awe." — " Whence, then, dost thou procure tliis Fate of appal- ling appearance, Which at a single stroke lifts and abases a man ? " — " Nonsense ! What we seek is self and friends of ac- quaintance, All our griefs and woes — and, by the rood, they are here." — " But all this ye possess at home with greater advan- tage ; Since ye seek yourselves, why do ye try to es- cape ? " — " Do not take it amiss, but that is a separate problem ; Fate — why, fate is bhnd ; poets are trusty for aye." — " So on your own poor boards your own poor nature is acting. While the good and great never are witnessed at all ? " — " Well, the poet is host, and a last act brings retribu- tion ; When crime shirks the repast, virtue can elbow a place." POEMS OF SCHILLER 287 THE EIVERS. THE RHINE. True, as a Switzer should, I guard Germania's borders ; But the patient stream leaps the excitable Gaul. the DANUBE IN XX. Bright - eyed men I see of Phaeacia dwelling around me ; Merrily whirls the spit, Sunday is ever at hand. the ELBE. Gibberish all of you talk — of all Germania's waters I true German speak — truly, in Meissen alone. THE spree. Eamler a language supplied, my Cnesar furnished a subject ; Choked at first, since then never I utter a word. THE WESER. Never a single word, not an epigrammatic allusion, Now I think it o'er, unto the Muse I supply. THE PEGNITZ. Long have I suffered, alas, from an hypochondriacal ailment ; And if I flow at all — well, 'tis my habit to flow. THE anonymous RIVER. Lenten meats to provide for the pious board of a bishop, Placed in an arid land by the Creator, I flow. 288 POEMS OF SCHILLER LES FLEUVES INDISCRETS. EiVERS, hold your peace ! Your lack of modesty equals That which exhibited once Diderot's intimate friend. THE METAPHYSICIAN. *' The Universe far, far below me lies ! I scarcely see the mannikins of earth ! How does my art, in its transcendent worth Noblest of all, exalt me to the skies ! " So brags the slater from his lofty perch, So does that little self-important man, Hans Metaphysicus, learned in research. Tell me, thou little self-important man. Yon pile, on which so grandly thou dost glose — Whence came it — on what base does it repose ? How cam'st thou there — and, for its callow height, What serves it, but to bring the plain in sight ? THE WOELDLY WISE. The law by which each mundane thing Its pristine bulk and shape attained. The peg whereon this earthly ring By thoughtful Zeus was made to cling, For fear it should perchance be strained,- A real genius I proclaim The man who can announce its name, Unless I choose to aid his ken — 'Tis : Twelve is different from Ten. Snow makes us cold, a fire is hot. Upon two feet a mortal goes, POEMS OF SCHILLER 289 Across the sky the sun doth trot, And, knowing logic ne'er a jot. All this a man by reason knows. But he who Metaphysics learns Knows that what freezes never burns, That wet is wet, and dry is dry, That bright is bright can testify. His noble epic Homer sings. The hero is by peril cheered, The valiant man to duty springs — And did so long before such things As the Philosophers appeared. The heart and genius have wrought What Locke and Descartes never thought, Such do their instincts only move The possibilities to prove. In life the strong is ever right. The weak must feel the mighty's rage ; Who rules not is a slavish wight ; Else things were in a sorry plight Upon this little earthly stage. Yet what would happen could we scan Now in its birth the cosmic plan, From moral systems may be gained, And everything at once explained. " Man stands in need of human aid To compass his appointed goal ; On the large scale he loves to trade. Of many drops the sea is made, Whole torrents through the mill-wheel roll So flies the wolf's ferocious brood And states renounce internal feud." Thus Puffendorf and Feder teach. And " ex cathedra " love to preach. 290 POEMS OF SCHILLER Yet since the professional saw To some will e'er appeal in vain, Nature takes heed that not a flaw Shall mar the chain, and by her law Bids ripening fruit its hold retain. Till, then, philosophy succeeds The world in ruling with its creeds, Its motive power she supplies By hunger and by lovers' sighs. THE PUPPET-SHOW OF LIFE. What ? Wouldst thou see my puppet-show — Life and the world in miniature ? That privilege you may secure. But do not stand too close, you know. 'Tis only by love's gentle hght Or Cupid's torch-flame seen aright. Yes, look ! The stage is never bare : Behold the little child in arms. The bouncing boy, the boisterous youngster's charms. The upgrown fighting man, who all will dare. Each has his own success in mind. But narrow is th' appointed way ; The axles smoke, the chariots sway, The hero pushes on, the weakling lags behind ; Pride meets with an amusing fall, And the judicious conquers all. And at the goal behold fair woman stands. With fairy fingers and with eyes that plead, Eeady to give the conqueror his meed. POEMS OF SCHILLER 291 TO A YOUNG FEIEND ABOUT TO TAKE UP PHILOSOPHY. Many a task in his youth the Grecian had to ac- compHsh Ere he a coveted home could in Eleusis attain. Art thou ready thyself to approach that holy of holies, Where her wondrous stores Pallas Athene preserves ? Knowest thou all that awaits thee there, how dear is the bargain, Which at a cost defined purchases what is un- known ? Hast thou vigour enough that hardest battle to venture. Where the reflecting mind, heart and the conscience oppose ? Hast thou courage to face fell doubt's irresistible demon. And like a man to meet foes who do battle within ? Hast thou an innocent heart, and an eye sufhciently healthy Trickery to detect garbed in the semblance of truth ? Then, an thou be not sure of the guide in thine inti- mate bosom. Fly from the edge in time, fly from the yawning abyss ! Many who seek for light plunge headlong into the darkness ; But a child can walk safe in the glimmer of eve. 292 POEMS OF SCHILLER THE POETEY OF LIFE. TO X. X. X. "Who could be satisfied alone with dreams, Which life illumine v/ith but borrowed gleams, With mock procession leading hope astray ? To me must Truth her charms unveiled display. Should with my dream my heaven disappear, Should my free spirit, in its bold career Towards unknown possibility's domain. Be hampered by the present's galling chain, 'Twill learn at least itself to bear a thrall ; And to the sacred sound of duty's call, Or to the more imperious call of need, Will know to render a more willing heed. How can a man truth's gentle rule forswear, And yet necessity's hard fortunes bear ? " Thus, my superior friend, I hear thee cry From the safe niche which thine own qualms supply. Leaving mere semblance rigidly alone. Struck by the serious import of thy tone. Disperses in alarm th' immortal train, The Muse is hushed, the dancing hours refrain. The Goddess twins, now a dejected pair. Ruefully twine the garlands in their hair, Apollo snaps in twain his golden strings, Hermes his magic wand in fragments flings. From life's pale face falls dreamland's roseate bloom, And lo, the world unveiled is but a tomb. Fair Venus' child tears from before his eyes Th' enchanted veil ; his mother, shrieking, flies Her godlike son a mortal to behold, His ardent youthful beauty sere and cold. And even thy sweet lip and kiss grow chill. And petrifaction blurs their ancient thrill. POEMS OF SCHILLER 293 TO MADEMOISELLE SLEVOIGHT. ON HER MARRIAGE TO DOCTOR STURM. Blessings attend thee, graceful bride, Down Hymen's path about to ghde ! With honest pleasure we have seen The sweetness of thy mind unfold, Thy charms assume a shapelier mould. Beneath the sway of love serene. Happy the lot which thou hast found ; And friendship yields without a smart To the soft god who holds thee bound, Who asks, and has intact, thy heart. Thy wedding garland bids prepare For loving duties, sacred care. To which thy youthful heart was blind ; The trifling thoughts of childhood's day, The sports of youth, have passed away, And half-forgotten lie behind. Now Hymen's fetters have control Where fluttering love had spread its bowers ; But for the deeply-feeling soul Those fetters are but chains of flowers. And wouldest thou the secret find The bridal garland so to wind That it shall last for ever green ? It lies in purity of heart Which grace unfading can impart And temper with a modest mien, Which Hke the sun's reflected glow, To hearts the smihng lustre lends. And can a modest air bestow On dignity which ne'er unbends. 294 POEMS OF SCHILLER GREEK GENIUS. TO MEYEK IN ITALY. Dumb to the commonplace host, who ply deaf-hearted inquiries, Speaks his spirit to thee, as to an intimate friend. LINES WRITTEN IN A FRIEND'S ALBUM. TO HERE VON MECHELN OF BASLE. Of inexhaustible charm is the youthful beauty of nature, And no less are the charms of inexhaustible art. Hail, esteemed old man, for tliine heart doth equally cherish Both, and so thy life is a perennial youth. THE GIFT. Ring and Stafif, all hail on a flask of genuine Rhenish ! Who thus waters his sheep, he is a shepherd indeed. Heavenly draught ! prescribed, and sent to me by the Muses, And upon which the Church gladly impresses her seal. WILLIAM TELL.1 When angry forces 'gainst each other rise, And by bhnd rage the flame of war is stirred ; When 'mid the virulence of party cries The voice of justice is no longer heard ; 1 These stanzas were sent by the author to the Electora Chan- cellor, together with a copy of his play — " William Tell." POEMS OF SCHILLER 295 When every crime starts rampant to the skies, And Ucense at the very shrine will gird, Cutting the cable which the State maintains — Here is no matter for triumphant strains. But when a pastoral and simple race, Sufficient for itself, with no desires, Hurls off the yoke it suffered in disgrace, Which in its wrath Humanity admires, And in its triumph wears a modest face — This is immortal, and our song inspires. Such a presentment to unfold be mine, But what is worthy is already thine. TO THE HEEEDITAEY PKINCE OF WEIMAR. ON THE OCCASION OF HIS JOURNEY TO PARIS. (Sung in a circle of intimate Friends.) Now let us one last bumper drain To speed our traveller's way, Who quits anon this quiet plain In which he saw the day. He leaves his own ancestral halls, From loving arms he goes To the proud capital, whose walls Whole nations' spoils enclose. Discord makes pause, the thunders cease. The very wars repose, The craters we may sound in peace From which the lava rose. 296 POEMS OF SCHILLER May luck thy devious steps attend Wherever they may roam ! An honest heart did Nature lend, Oh, bring it honest home ! Lands thou wilt cross v^^hich bore the stress Of war's terrific strain ; Yet now their smiling fields caress In peace the golden grain. Old Father Rhine thou willst bestride, Who never will ignore, So long his waters seaward glide, Thine ancestor of yore. Do homage to the hero's fame, And pledge the noble Rhine, Old bulwark of the German name, In his own matchless wine. Let German spirit be thy guide. And fail thee ne'er a jot When quivering to that other side Where German faith is not. THE BEGINNING OF THE NEW CENTURY. TO X. X. X. Where shall we find a refuge, noble friend ? For peace and freedom on this troubled earth ? The Century in tumult has its end, And murder dogs the new one at its birth. POEMS OF SCHILLER 297 Burst are the links uniting land with land, And ancient dignities and forms decline ; The rush of war the sea cannot withstand, Nile cannot stem it, nor the hoary Khine. Two mighty nationahties contend For the supreme possession of the world ; Others their hopes of freedom may suspend While thunderbolts and tridents here are hurled. For them must every land its gold afford. And as did Brennus in his ruder day, So does the Frank his heavy iron sword Throw in, the even balance to outweigh. The Briton spreads his all-pervading fleet. Its greedy tentacles abroad are thrown ; Amphitrite's domain he would estreat, And claim the whole of ocean for his own. To unseen regions of the Southern Pole His never-wearied footsteps he directs ; All shores and islands he would fain control, And Paradise alone he still respects. No map or chart there is, alas ! I ween, In which that happy country we shall find Where freedom's garden is for ever green, And youth perennial adorns mankind. In boundless range the world before thee lies, Even the shipping thou canst scarce compute : Yet on its platform of unstinted size For elbow room some dozen must dispute. 298 POEMS OF SCHILLER In the calm sanctuary of the heart Fly to a refuge from this earthly throng ! Dreamland alone true freedom can impart And beauty only flourishes in song. THE POET'S FAEEWELL. The Muse is silent. On her maiden cheek The blushing hues of modesty appear, As she steps forth thy judgment to bespeak, With due respect indeed, but not with fear. His commendation only she would seek Who all subordinates to truth austere. No heart but that for which pure beauty glows Is worthy beauty's garland to impose. So long alone these songs of mine shall live As they can find a sympathetic mind, To wliich some brighter fancies they can give, And urge a part more noble and refined. To distant ages they will not survive, Their task is done, and they will fall behind. Merely the inspirations of a day, In the hght dance of time they pass away. The Spring returns ; the comfortable land New youth attains beneath the vernal fire ; Entrancing odours from the shrubs expand, Gay peals in heaven the celestial choir ; The young and old in one united band Through all their senses happiness respire. But Spring departs ! To seed the flowers fall, And of the past no trace remains at all. Semele In Two Scenes Dramatis Personse Juno. Semele, Princess of Thebes. Jupiter. Mercury. Scene — The Palace of Cadmus at Thebes. Semele Scene I. Juno. {Descending from her chariot enveloped in a cloud.) Away, ye peacocks, with my winged car ! Upon Cithseron's cloud-capped summit wait ! \_The chariot and cloud vanish. Hail, hail, thou house of my undying anger ! A fearful hail to thee, thou hostile roof, Ye hated walls ! — This, this, then, is the place Where Jupiter pollutes his marriage-bed Even before the face of modest day ! 'Tis here, then, that a woman, a frail mortal, A dust-created being, dares to lure The mighty Thunderer from out mine arms, And hold him prisoner against her hps ! Juno ! Juno ! thought of madness ! Thou all lonely and in sadness Standest now on heaven's bright throne ! Though the votive smoke ascendeth. Though each knee in homage bendeth. What are they when love has flown ? To humble, alas, each too-haughty emotion That swelled my proud breast, from the foam of the ocean 301 302 POEMS OF SCHILLER Fair Venus arose, to enchant gods and men ! And the Fates my still deeper abasement decreeing, Her offspring Hermione brought into being. And the bliss once mine own can ne'er glad me again ! Amongst the gods do I not reign the queen ? Am I not sister of the Thunderer ? Am I not wife of Zeus, the lord of all ? Groans not the mighty axis of the heavens At my command ? Gleams not Olympus' crown Upon my head ? Ha ! now I feel myself ! In my immortal veins is Kronos' blood. Eight royally now swells my godlike heart. Revenge ! revenge ! Shall she unpunished ridicule my might ? Unpunished, discord roll amongst the gods, Inviting Eris to invade the courts, The joyous courts of heaven ? Vain, thoughtless one ! Perish, and learn upon the Stygian stream The difference 'twixt divine and earthly dust! The giant-armour, may it weigh thee down — Thy passion for a god to atoms crush thee ! Armed with revenge, as with a coat of mail, I have descended from Olympus' heights. Devising sweet, ensnaring, flattering words ; But in those words, death and destruction lurk. Hark ! 'tis her footstep ! she approaches now — Approaches ruin and a certain death ! Veil thyself, goddess, in a mortal form ! [Exit. Semele. (^Calling behind the scenes.^ The sun is fast declining ! Maidens, haste, Scatter ambrosial fragrance through the hall. Strew roses and narcissus flowers around. Forgetting not the gold-embroidered pillow. He comes not yet — the sun is fast declining — Juno. (Hastily entering in the form of an old woman.) Praised be the deities, my dearest daughter ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 303 Semele. Ha ! Do I dream ? Am I awake ? Gods ! Beroe ! Juno. Is't possible that Semele can e'er Forget her nurse ? Semele. 'Tis Beroe ! By Zeus ! Oh, let thy daughter clasp thee to her heart ! Thou livest still ? What can have brought thee here From Epidaurus ? Tell me all thy tale ! Thou art my mother as of old ? Juno. Thy mother ! Time was thou call'dst me so. Semele. Thou art so still. And wilt remain so, till I drink full deep Of Lethe's maddening draught. Juno. Soon Beroe Will drink oblivion from the waves of Lethe ; But Cadmus' daughter ne'er will taste that draught. Semele. How, my good nurse? Thy language ne'er was wont To be mysterious or of hidden meaning ; The spirit of gray hairs 'tis speaks in thee ; Thou say est I ne'er shall taste of Lethe's draught ? Juno. I said so, yes ! But wherefore ridicule Gray hairs ? 'Tis true that they, unlike fair tresses, Have ne'er been able to ensnare a god ! Semele. Pardon poor thoughtless me ! What cause have I To ridicule gray hairs ? Can I suppose That mine for ever fair will grace my neck ? But what was that I heard thee muttering Between thy teeth ? A god ? Juno. Said I a god ? The deities in truth dwell everywhere ! 'Tis good for earth's frail children to implore them. The gods are found where thou art — Semele ! What wouldst thou ask ? Semele. Mahcious heart ! But say : 304 POEMS OF SCHILLER What brings thee to this spot from Epidaurus ? 'Tis not because the gods delight to dwell near Semele ? Juno, By Jupiter, nought else ! — What fire was that which mounted to thy cheeks When I pronounced the name of Jupiter ? Nought else, my daughter ! Fearfully the plague At Epidaurus rages ; every blast Is deadly poison, every breath destroys ; The son his mother burns, his bride the bridegroom ; The funeral piles rear up their flaming heads, Converting even midnight to bright day, While howls of anguish ceaseless rend the air ; Full to overflowing is the cup of woe ! — In anger, Zeus looks down on our poor nation ; In vain the victim's blood is shed, in vain Before the altar bows the priest his knee ; Deaf is his ear to all our supplications — Therefore my sorrow-stricken country now Has sent me here to Cadmus' regal daughter, In hopes that I may move her to avert His anger from us — " Beroe, the nurse. Has influence," thus they said, " with Semele, And Semele with Zeus " — I know no more. And understand still less what means the saying, That Semele such influence has with Zeus. Semele. {Eagerly and thoiightlessly.) The plague shall cease to-morrow ! Tell them so ! Zeus loves me ! Say so ! It shall cease to-day ! Juno. [Starting up in astonishment) Ha ! Is it true what fame with thousand tongues Has spread abroad from Ida to Mount Hsemus ? Zeus loves thee ? Zeus salutes thee in the glory Wherein the denizens of heaven regard him, When in Saturnia's arms he sinks to rest ? Let, O ye gods, my gray hairs now descend To Orcus' shades, for I have hved enough ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 305 In godlike splendour Kronos' mighty son Comes down to her, — to her, who on this breast Once suckled — yes ! to her — Semele. Oh, Beroe ! In youthful form he came, in lovelier guise Than they who from Aurora's lap arise ; Fairer than Hesper, breathing incense dim, — In floods of ether steeped appeared each hmb ; He moved with graceful and majestic motion, Like silvery billows heaving o'er the ocean, Or as Hyperion, whose bright shoulders ever His bow and arrow bear, and clanging quiver ; His robe of light behind him gracefully Danced in the breeze, his voice breathed melody, Like crystal streams with silvery murmur falling. More ravishing than Orpheus' strains enthralling. Juno. My daughter ! Inspiration spurs thee on, Raising thy heart to flights of Helicon ! If thus in strains of Delphic ecstasy Ascends the short-hved blissful memory Of his bright charms, — Oh, how divine must be His own sweet voice, — his look how heavenly ! But why of that great attribute Kronion joys in most, be mute, — The majesty that hurls the thunder, And tears the fleeting clouds asunder ? Wilt thou say nought of that alone ? Prometheus and Deucahon May lend the fairest charms of love, But none can wield the bolt save Jove ! The thunderbolt it is alone Which he before thy feet laid down That proves thy right to beauty's crown. Semele. What sayest thou ? What are thunder- bolts to me ? Juno. {Smiling.) Ah, Semele ' A jest becomes thee well ! 3o6 POEMS OF SCHILLER Semele. Deucalion has no offspring so divine As is my Zeus — of thunder nought I know. Juno. Mere envy ! Fie ! Semele. No, Beroe ! By Zeus ! Juno. Thou swearest ? Semele. By Zeus ! by mine own Zeus ! Juno. {Shrieking.) Thou swearest ? Unhappy one ! Semele. {In alarm.) What meanest thou, Beroe % Juno. Repeat the word that dooms thee to be- come The wretchedest of all on earth's wide face ! — Alas, lost creature ! 'Twas not Zeus ! Semele. Not Zeus ? Oh, fearful thought ! Juno. A cunning traitor 'twas From Attica, who, 'neath a godhke form, Eobbed thee of honour, shame, and innocence ! — [Semele sinks to the ground. Well mayest thou fall ! Ne'er may est thou rise again ! May endless night enshroud thine eyes in darkness, May endless silence round thine ears encamp ! Remain for ever here a hfeless mass ! Oh, infamy ! Enough to hurl chaste day Back into Hecate's gloomy arms once more ! Ye gods ! And is it thus that Beroe Finds Cadmus' daugliter, after sixteen years Of bitter separation ! Full of joy I came from Epidaurus ; but with shame To Epidaurus must retrace my steps. — Despair I take with me. Alas, my people ! E'en to the second Deluge now the plague May rage at will, may pile mount Q^ta high With corpses upon corpses, and may turn All Greece into one mighty charnel-house, Ere Semele can bend the angry gods. I, thou, and Greece, and all, have been betrayed ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 307 Semele. {Tremhling as she 7nses, and extending an arm towards her.) Oh, Beroe ! Juno. Take courage, my dear heart ! Perchance 'tis Zeus ! although it scarce can be ! Perchance 'tis really Zeus ! This we nuist learn ! He must disclose himself to thee, or thou Must fly his sight for ever, and devote The monster to the death-revenge of Thebes. Look up, dear daughter — look upon the face Of thine own Beroe, who looks on thee With sympathising eyes — my Semele, Were it not well to try him ? Semele. No, by heaven ! I should not find him then — Juno. What ! Wilt thou be Perchance less wretched, if thou pinest on In mournful doubt ? — and if 'tis really he, — Semele. (Hiding her face in Juno's lap.) Ah ! 'tis not he ! Juno. And if he came to thee Arrayed in all the majesty wherein Olympus sees him ? Semele ! What then ? Wouldst thou repent thee then of having tried him ? Semele. {Springing up.) Ha ! be it so ! He must unveil himself ! Juno. [Hastily.) Thou must not let him sink into thine arms Till he unveils himself — so hearken, child, To what thy faithful nurse now counsels thee, — To what affection whispers in mine ear, And will accomplish ! — Say ! will he soon come ? Semele. Before Hyperion smks in Thetis' bed, He promised to appear. Juno. (^Forgetting herself hastily.^ Is't so, indeed ? He promised ? Ha ! To-day ? {Recovering herself.) Let him approach, And when he would attempt, inflamed with love, 3o8 POEMS OF SCHILLER To clasp his arms around thee, then do thou, — Observe me well, — as if by lightning struck, Start back in haste. Ha ! picture his surprise ! Leave him not long in wonderment, my child ; Continue to repulse him with a look As cold as ice — more wildly, with more ardour He'll press thee then — the coyness of the fair Is but a dam, that for awhile keeps back The torrent, only to increase the flood With greater fury. Then begin to weep : 'Gainst giants he might stand, — look calmly on When Typheus, hundred-armed, in fury hurled Mount Ossa and Olympus 'gainst his throne : But Zeus is soon subdued by beauty's tears. Thou smilest ? — Be it so ! Is, then, the scholar Wiser, perchance, than she who teaches her ? — Then thou must pray the god one little, little Most innocent request to grant to thee — One that may seal his love and godhead too. He'll swear by Styx. The Styx he must obey ! That oath he dares not break ! Then speak these words : " Thou shalt not touch this body, till thou comest To Cadmus' daughter clothed in all the might Wherein thou art embraced by Kronos' daughter!" Be not thou terrified, my Semele, If he, in order to escape thy wish, As bugbears paints the horrors of his presence — Describes the flames that round about him roar, The thunder round him rolUng when he comes : These, Semele, are nought but empty fears — The gods dislike to show to us frail mortals These the most glorious of their attributes ; Be thou but obstinate in thy request, And Juno's self will gaze on thee with envy. Semele. The frightful ox-eyed one ! How often he POEMS OF SCHILLER 309 Complains, in the blest moments of our love, Of her tormenting him with her black gall — Juno. {Aside, furiously, hut with embarrassment.) Ha ! creature ! Thou shalt die for this contempt ! Semele. My Beroe ! What art thou murmuring there ? Juno, (/ti confusion.^ Nothing, my Semele ! Black gall torments Me also — Yes ! a sharp, reproachful look With lovers often passes as black gall — Yet ox-eyes, after all, are not so ugly. Semele. Oh, Beroe, for shame ! they're quite the worst That any head can possibly contain ! And then her cheeks of green and yellow hues. The obvious penalty of poisonous envy — Zeus oft complains to me that that same shrew Each night torments him with her nauseous love, And with her jealous whims, — enough, I'm sure, Into Ixion's wheel to turn all heaven. Juno. (Baimig up avid down in extreme confusion.) No more of this ! Semele. What, Beroe ! So angi-y ? Have I said more than what is true ? Said more Than what is wise ? Juno. Thou hast said more, young woman, Than what is true — said more than what is wise ! Deem thyself truly blest, if thy blue eyes Smile thee not into Charon's bark too soon ! Saturnia has her altars and her temples. And wanders amongst mortals — that great goddess Avenges nought so bitterly as scorn. Semele. Here let her wander, and give birth to scorn ! What is't to me ? — My Jupiter protects My every hair, — what harm can Juno do ? But now, enough of this, my Beroe ! 3IO POEMS OF SCHILLER Zeus must appear to-day in all his glory ; And if Saturuia should on that account Find out the path to Orcus — Juno. (Aside.) That same path * Another probably will find before her, If but Kronion's lightuiug hits the mark ! — {To Semele.) Yes, Semele, she well may burst with envy "When Cadmus' daughter, in the sight of Greece, Ascends in triumph to Olympus' heights! — Semele. (Smiling gently.) Thiukest thou they'll hear in Greece of Cadmus' daughter ? Juno. From Sidon to Athens the trumpet of fame Shall ring with no other but Semele's name ! The gods from the heavens shall even descend. And before thee their knees in deep homage shall bend, While mortals in silent submission abide The will of the giant-destroyer's loved bride ; And when distant years shall see Thy last hour — Semele. (Springing up, and falling on her neck.) Oh, Beroe ! Juno. Then a tablet white shall bear This inscription graven there : Here is worshipped Semele ! Who on earth so fair as she ? She who from Olympus' throne Lured the thunder-liurler down ! She who, with her kisses sweet. Laid him prostrate at her feet ! And when fame on her thousand wings bears it around, The echo from valley and hill shall resound. Semele. (Beside herself.) Pythia ! Apollo ! Hear ! When, oh, when will he appear ? Juno. And on smoking altars they Eites divine to thee shall pay — POEMS OF SCHILLER 311 Semele. (Inspired.) I will harken to their prayer, And will drive away their care, — Quench with my tears the lightning of great Jove, His breast to pity with entreaty move ! Juno. {Aside.) Poor thing! that wilt thou ne'er have power to do. (Meditating.) Ere long will melt . . . yet — yet — she called me ugly ! — No pity only when in Tartarus ! {To Semele.) Fly now, my love ! Make haste to leave this spot, That Zeus may not observe thee — Let him wait Long for thy coming, that he with more fire May languish for thee — Semele. Beroe ! The heavens Have chosen thee their mouthpiece ! Happy I ! The gods from Olympus shall even descend, And before me their knees in deep homage shall bend, While mortals in silent submission abide — But hold ! — 'tis time for me to haste away ! \^Exit hurriedly. Juno. {Looking after her with exultation) Weak, proud, and easily deluded woman ! His tender looks shall be consuming fire — His kiss, annihilation — his embrace, A raging tempest to thee ! Human frames Are powerless to endure the dreaded presence Of him who wields the thunderbolt on high ! {With raving ecstasy) Ha ! when her waxen mortal body melts Within the arms of him, the fire-distilling. As melts the fleecy snow before the heat Of the bright sun — and when the perjured one, In place of his soft tender bride, embraces A form of terror — with what ecstasy Shall I gaze downward from Cithseron's height, Exclaiming, so that in his hand the bolt 312 POEMS OF SCHILLER Shall quake : " For shame, Saturnius ! Fie, for shame ! What need is there for thee to clasp so roughly ? " [Exit hastily. (A Symphony.) Scene II. — Tlie Hall as before. — Sudden brightness. Zeus in the shape of a youth. — Mercuky in the distance. Zeus. Thou son of Maia ! Mercury. {Kneeling, with his head bowed reveren- tially.) Zeus ! Zeus! Up! Hasten! Turn Thy pinions' flight toward far Scamander's bank ! A shepherd there is weeping o'er the grave Of his loved shepherdess. No one shall weep When Zeus is loving. Call the dead to life ! Mercury. {Rising.) Let but thy head a nod almighty give, And in an instant I am there, — am back In the same instant — Zeus. Stay ! As I o'er Argos Was flying, from my temples curling rose The sacrificial smoke : it gave me joy That thus the people worship me — so fly To Ceres, to my sister, — thus speaks Zeus : " Ten thousandfold for fifty years to come Let her reward the Argive husbandmen ! " — Mercury. With trembling haste I execute thy wrath, — With joyous speed thy messages of grace. Father of all ! For to the deities 'Tis bliss to make man happy ; to destroy him Is anguish to the gods. Thy will be done ! Where shall I pour into thine ears their thanks, — Below in dust, or at thy throne on high ? POEMS OF SCHILLER 313 Zeus. Here at my throne on earth — within the palace Of Semele ! Away ! [Exit Mercury. Does she not come, As is her wont, Olympus' mighty king To clasp against her rapture-swelling breast ? Why hastens not my Semele to meet me ? A vacant, deathlike, fearful silence reigns On every side around the lonely palace, So wont to ring with wild bacchantic shouts — No breath is stirring — on Citheeron's height Exulting Juno stands. Will Semele Never again make haste to meet her Zeus ? (A pause, after which he continues.) Ha ! Can yon impious one perchance have dared To set her foot in my love's sanctuary ? — Saturnia — Mount Cithseron — her rejoicings ! Fearful foreboding ! — Semele — yet peace ! — Take courage ! — I'm thy Zeus ! the scattered heavens Shall learn, my Semele, that I'm thy Zeus ! Where is the breath of air that dares presume Eoughly to blow on her whom Zeuz calls His ? I scoff at all her malice. — Where art thou, O Semele ? I long have pined to rest My world-tormented head upon thy breast, — To lull my wearied senses to repose From the wild storm of earthly joys and woes, — To dream away the emblems of my might. My reins, my tiller, and my chariot bright. And live for nought beyond the joys of love ! Oh, heavenly inspiration, that can move Even the Gods divine ! What is the blood Of mighty Uranus — what all the flood Of nectar and ambrosia — what the throne Of high Olympus — what the power I own, The golden sceptre of the starry skies — What the omnipotence that never dies. 314 POEMS OF SCHILLER What might eternal, immortality — Wliat e'eu a god, oh, love, if reft of thee ? The shepherd who, beside the murmuring brook, Leans on his true love's breast, nor cares to look After his straying lambs, in that sweet hour Envies me not my thunderbolt of power ! She comes — she hastens nigh ! Pearl of my works, Woman ! the artist who created thee Should be adored. 'Twas I — myself I worship : Zeus worships Zeus, for Zeus created thee. Ha ! Who will now, in all the being-realm. Condemn me ? How unseen, yes, how despised Dwindle away my worlds, my constellations So ray-diffusing, all my dancing systems, What wise men call the music of my spheres ! — How dead are all when weighed against a soul ! (Scniele approaches, vntliout looking up) My pride! my throne on earth ! Oh, Semele ! {He rushes toward her ; she seeks tofiy.) Thou flyest ? — art mute ? — Ha ! Semele ! thou flyest ? Semele. {Repulsing him.) Away ! Zeus. {After a pause of astonishment) Is Jupiter asleep ? Will Nature Rush to her fall ? — Can Semele speak thus ? — What, not an answer ? Eagerly mine arms Toward thee are stretched — my bosom never throbbed Responsive to Agenor's daughter, — never Throbbed against Leda's breast, — my lips ne'er burned For the sweet kiss of prisoned Danae, As now — Semele. Peace, traitor ! Peace ! Zeus. ( With displeasure, hut tenderly.) My Semele ! Semele. Out of my sight ! Zeus. {Looking at her with majesty). Know, I am Zeus ' Semele. Thou Zeus ? POEMS OF SCHILLER 315 Tremble, Salmoneus, for he fearfully Will soon demand again the stolen charms That thou hast robbed him of — thou art not Zeus ! Zeus. (With dignity.) The mighty universe around me whirls, And calls me so — Semele. Ha ! Fearful blasphemy ! Zeus. {More gently.) How, my divine one ? Where- fore such a tone ? What reptile dares to steal thine heart from me ? Semele. My heart was vowed to him whose ape thou art ! Men ofttimes come beneath a godlike form To snare a woman. Hence ! thou art not Zeus ! Zeus. Thou doubtest ? What ! Can Semele still doubt My godhead ? Semele. {Mournfully.) Would that thou wert Zeus ! No son Of morrow-nothingness shall touch this mouth ; This heart is vowed to Zeus ! Would thou wert he ! Zeus. Thou weepest ? Zeus is here, — weeps Semele ? (Falling down before her.) Speak ! But command ! and then shall slavish nature Lie trembling at the feet of Cadmus' daughter ! Command ! and streams shall instantly make halt — And Hehcon, and Caucasus, and Cynthus, And Athos, Mycale, and Ehodope, and Pindus, Shall burst their bonds when I order it so. And kiss the valleys and plains below, And dance in the breeze hke flakes of snow. Command ! and the winds from the east and the north, And the fierce tornado shall sally forth, While Poseidon's trident their power shall own. When they shake to its base his watery throne ; The billows in angry fury shall rise, And every sea-mark and dam despise ; 3i6 POEMS OF SCHILLER The lightning shall gleam through the firmament black While the poles of earth and of heaven shall crack, The ocean the heights of Olympus explore, From thousandfold jaws with wild deafening roar The thunder shall howl, while with mad jubilee The hurricane fierce sings in triumph to thee. Command — Semele. I'm but a woman, a frail woman ! How can the potter bend before his pot ? How can the artist kneel before his statue ? Zeus. Pygmalion bowed before his masterpiece — And Zeus now worships his own Semele ! Semele. ( Weeping bitterly.) Arise — arise ! Alas ! for us poor maidens ! Zeus has my heart, gods only can I love, The gods deride me, Zeus despises me ! Zeus. Zeus who is now before thy feet — Semele. Arise ! Zeus reigns on high, above the thunderbolts, And, clasped in Juno's arms, a reptile scorns. Zeus. {Hastily.) Ha ! Semele and Juno ! — which tlie reptile ! Semele. How blessed beyond all utterance would be Cadmus' daughter — wert thou Zeus ! Alas ! Thou art not Zeus ! Zeus. (Arises.) I am ! (He extends his hand, and a rainhotv Jills the hall ; music accompanies its appearance.) Knowest thou me now ? Semele. Strong is that mortal's arm whom gods protect, Saturnius loves thee — none can / e'er love But deities — Zeus. What ! art thou doubting still Whether my might is lent me by the gods POEMS OF SCHILLER 317 And not god-born ? The gods, my Semele, In charity oft lend their strength to man ; Ne'er do the deities their terrors lend — Death and destruction is the godhead's seal — Bearer of death to thee were Zeus unveiled ! (ZTe extends his hand. Thunder, fire, smoke, and earthquake. Music accom].) aides the spell here and subsequently .) ■Semele. Withdraw, withdraw thy hand ! — Oh, mercy, mercy, For the poor nation ! Yes, thou art the child Of great Saturnius — Zeus. Ha ! thou thoughtless one ! Shall Zeus, to please a woman's stubbornness, Bid planets whirl, and bid the suns stand still ? Zeus ivill do so ! — oft has a god's descendant Eipped up the fire-impreguate womb of rocks. And yet his might's confined to Tellus' bounds. Zeus only can do this ! {He extends his hand — the sun vanishes, and it becomes suddenly night.) Semele. (Falling down before him.) Almighty one ! Couldst thou but love ! [J^<^1/ reappears. Zeus. Ha ! Cadmus' daughter asks Kronion if Kronion e'er can love ! One word and he throws off divinity — Is flesh and blood, and dies, and is beloved ! Semele. Would Zeus do that ? Zeus. Speak, Semele ! What more ? Apollo's self confesses that 'tis bliss To be a man 'mongst men — a sign from thee. And I'm a man ! Semele. (Falling on his neck). Oh, Jupiter, the Epidaurus women Thy Semele a foolish maiden call. Because, though by the Thunderer beloved, She can obtain nought from him — 3i8 POEMS OF SCHILLER Zeus. {Eagerly.) They shall blush, Those Epidaurus women ! Ask ! — but ask ! And by the dreaded Styx — whose boundless might Binds e'en the gods like slaves — if Zeus deny thee, Then shall the gods, e'en in that selfsame moment, Hurl me despairing to annihilation ! Semele. {Sjiringing up jogfidly.) By this I know that thou'rt my Jupiter ! Thou swearest — and the Styx has heard thine oath ! Let me embrace thee, then, in the same guise In which — Zeus. {Shrieking with alarm) Unhappy one ! Oh, stay ! oh, stay ! Semele. Saturnia — Zeus. {Attempting to stop her mouth.) Be thou dumb ! Semele. Embraces thee. Zeus. {Pale, and turning away.) Too late ! The sound escaped ! — The Styx ! — 'Tis death Thou, Semele, hast gained ! Semele. Ha ! Loves Zeus thus ? Zeus. All heaven I would have given, had I only Loved thee but less ! {Gazing at her with eold horror.) Thou'rt lost — Semele. Oh, Jupiter ! Zeus. {Speaking furiously to himself.) Ah ! now I mark thine exultation, Juno ! Accursed jealousy ! This rose must die ! Too fair — alas ! too sweet for Acheron ! Semele. Methinks thou'rt niggard of thy majesty ! Zeus. Accursed be my majesty, that now Has blinded thee ! Accursed be my greatness, That must destroy thee ! Cursed be I myself For having built my bliss on crumbling dust ! Semele. These are but empty terrors, Zeus ! In truth I do not dread thy threats ! POEMS OF SCHILLER 319 Zeus. Deluded child ! Go ! take a last farewell for evermore Of all thy friends beloved — nought, nought has power To save thee, Semele ! I am thy Zeus ! Yet that no more — Go — Semele. Jealous one ! the Styx ! — Think not that thou'lt be able to escape me. \^Exit. Zeus. No! Juno shall not triumph. — She shall • tremble — Ay, and by virtue of the deadly might That makes the earth and makes the heavens my foot- stool, Upon the sharpest rock in Thracia's land With adamantine chains I'll bind her fast. But, oh, this oath — [Mercury appears in the distance. What means thy hasty flight ? Mekcury. I bring the fiery, winged, and weeping thanks Of those whom thou hast blessed — Zeus. Again destroy them ! Mercury. {In amazement.) Zeus ! Zeus. None shall now be blessed ! She dies — [The curtain falls. THE END. •ic >-^;k^ L^. mm *^^'W^^ *M '■#v ^7k ♦v *f' v^^a'f' ii !<*■' >««a^Li:T-* •■_ ^.1