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THE
POEMS AND BALLADS
Johann Christoph Friedrich von
SCHILLER.
TRANSLATED BY
/
SIR EDWARD BULWER LYTTON, BART.
From the Last London Edition.
U
NEW YORK:
THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO.
No. 13 ASTOR PLACE.
- Live one on the the west

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☺1-20-22 SiH.
94.
Vastile D Carives.
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Inscribed
N
A sta, man, mat
JAMES F. FERRIER, ESQ.,
PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY AND POLITICAL ECONOMY IN THE
UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS :
A SLIGHT TOKEN OF GRATITUDE
FOR CANDID CRITICISM,
AND OF RESPECT FOR ENLIGHTENED ERUDITION.
378197
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PREFACE.
THE previous Edition of this translation had the
good fortune to be received with favor, not least so
by those naturally most jealous of Schiller's fame,
and probably best fitted to estimate critically a trans-
lator's comprehension of his more essential charac-
teristics-viz., his own countrymen. In the present
Edition, no pains have been spared to correct and
improve an attempt to nationalize among us a poet
whose influence is, for the most part, of an eminent-
ly spiritual and elevated nature; and, after all due
allowance for the disparity of genius between the
German and the English translator, to obtain for
this volume a place amongst those translations
which, though first regarded as the representatives
of a foreign literature, are gradually admitted ast
denizens of our own.
The years that have passed since I first undertook
the translation of poems, of which the more abstract
are not unfrequently obscure even to German read-

6
ers, have added something to my own acquaintance
with the studies most favored by Schiller, as well as
with the subtleties of the language he employs.
They have added, also, something of more familiar
practice in poetical composition; and hence, wheth-
er to approach more nearly than before to the mean-
ing of the original, or to confer a more polished fa-
cility on my own version, many of the translations
have been wholly rewritten, most of them carefully
retouched. My general practice has been to trans
late line by line, and as literally as the transfer of
thought from the verse of one language into the verse
of another will permit. I have very rarely departed
from this rule, except where it seemed expedient to
give more distinct force to the poet's leading idea;
or where, in obscurer passages, it became necessary
to translate the meaning as well as the words. For
it sometimes happens that a construction literally
verbal may be essentially unfaithful, render the sense
unintelligible, or leave it exposed to total miscon-
ception—a danger of which Schiller himself was
so aware, that, in his correspondence, he takes pages
to explain what he desired to imply in a line. In
such more difficult passages I have diligently recon-
sulted the best German authorities and I have again
PREFACE.

PREFACE.
7
to record my especial obligations to the distinguished
critic to whom this translation is inscribed.
I have also for the most part adhered to the metres
in the original, except where they would be unmusi-
cal to an English ear, or where they would have im-
pressed our English associations with a sound at va-
riance with the object of the poet.
In such variations I have sought to select the
metres which Schiller might have sanctioned hud he
been as well acquainted with our language and its
poetical forms as an English translator may presume
to be.
My boldest deviation has been in the substitution
of familiar modern metres for the rhymeless hexa-
meter or pentameter which Schiller has occasionally
employed, against the impulse of his better taste,'
and which, just as the German poets are recovering
from a barbarous affectation that no genius could
establish inte lasting precedent, certain very eminent
writers have sought to introduce into the English lan-
guage. Monstrum, horrendum, informe, ingens! I
hold it a sufficient excuse for this license, in an at
tempt to render a German poet into English verse,
1 “I have bought Voss's translation of the Odyssey, and it is truly
admirable, with the exception of the hexameters, which I cannot
ut up with."-SCHILLER'S Corresponders with KÕRNER.
¡
..

8
that not even the admirable genius of Professor Long
fellow, nor the exquisite sense of classic rhythm and
cadence which prevades Mr. Lockhart's specimens
of translation from Homer into hexameters, has been
able to make pentameter or hexameter a metre pop-
ularly recognized as an English verse by our reading
public.
I shall not here enforce the ordinary objection to
an attempt at the adoption of classic metres; viz.,
the want in our modern languages of the syllabic
quantity, which is of such metres the alleged funda-
mental law. My belief in the failure of the attempt
rests upon far broader ground, and involves a difli-
culty which, I think, may account to the eminent
writers I have referred to, if they are admired in spite
of their hexameters, and not on account of them.
The essential charm of verse is in its harmony with
our previous associations. When we hear a rhythm
that we perceive at once to be musical, it is that it
strikes upon keys which we have already recognized
as music. But we have no more associations with
hexameters and pentameters in English verse, than
Ovid and Tyrtæus would have with the rhymes of the
Irish melodies. Every distinct race has its own dis
tinct forms of verse, according to its hereditary as
PREFACE.

PREFACE.
9
sociations; and it is difficult even to give to a metre
with which it is already familiar, the signification
which that metre takes in another tongue. That
measure which in France is dedicated to the march
of the epic and the swell of the tragic rhyme, is only
associated in English minds with a tripping rounde-
lay or a jovial ballad. The peculiar characteristic
of Racine in the pomp of his line, would vanish at
once from an English verse of the same measure.
The heroic line in one country can best be rendered
by the heroic line in another. Why?-simply be-
cause the line must, in order to produce the same
effect on either audience, consult the previous asso-
ciations which custom has peculiarized to each. It
will therefore rarely happen-when a language has
made considerable progress, its poetry received form
and substance, and the measures adopted by its poets
have become familiar to our ears and interwoven with
our notions of melody—that a new metre, wholly dif-
ferent in form and construction, will be permanently
and popularly received. It may have its hour of
fashion, like any other novelty-may please as a dis-
play of ingenuity-and, if unfortunately used by a
real poet, will command its short-lived crowd of im-
itators; but it will more probably obstruct the poet
|:

10
PREFACE.
who employs it, in his passage to the future, than
win its own way to our reluctant love. I have not,
therefore, employed the spurious classical metro em-
ployed by Schiller in "The Walk" and some other
poems, for the same reasons that I would not employ
it in translating Ovid or Tibullus. I employ a line
of that length which the best English poets of a for-
mer century adopted, when they had hexameters or
pentameters to translate, but, in the poem of "The
Walk," with a greater freedom of rhyme than our
own alternate elegiac quatrain or heroic couplet, be-
cause such freedom seemed necessitated by the quick
succession of scenes presented, and the general spir-
it of the whole composition.
In this Edition I have retained the general arrange-
ment adopted in the first. In the received Editions
of the original, Schiller's poems are classed in three
divisions, according as they were composed in the
three periods, which biographers have regarded as
the great epochs of his life. These divisions have
not been confounded in the translation, but the order
in which they are classified in the German Editions
is reversed the poems composed in the periods of
mature development placed first,' those written in
¹ And in this division I have not given to each poem the place it
}
:
:

PREFACE.
11
the period of struggle and transition next, those in
that of early youth last. It would not be doing jus-
tice to Schiller, in introducing him to the English
public, to give to his most imperfect performances
the place of honor; and perhaps, as a general rule,
it is always most interesting to follow the stream to
its source than to track from the turbid stream the
smoothness of the after-current.
Mr. Carlyle has quoted, with some approval, a
pert phrase, "that readers, till their twenty-fifth year,
usually prefer Schiller; after their twenty-fifth year,
Goethe." If Herder and Novalis are right in their
belief that the true elements of wisdom and poetry
are found freshest and purest in the young, this is
no disparagement to Schiller. It is, certainly, only
in proportion as the glow for all that is noble in
thought and heroic in character fades from the weak-
er order of mind, amidst the cavils, disgusts, and
scepticism of later life, that the halo around the gen-
ius of Schiller, which is but a reflection of all that
is noble and heroic, wanes also into feebler lustre.
occupies in the editions of the original. This deviation requires no
excuse. The poems are not printed in the German editions accord-
ing to chronological or systematic arrangement, and a translator is
therefore left at full liberty to select the order which appears to him
to give the most relief and variety.
1 CARLYLE'S Miscellanies, vol. iii., p. 65.
1
2
1
12
PREFACE.
...

For the stronger nature, which still "feels as the en-
thusiast, while it learns to see as the world-wise,'
there is no conceivable reason why Schiller should
charm less in maturity than youth. Goethe may
please a reader more in proportion as his mind can
embrace a wider circumference in life; but unless
his mind loses in elevation what it gains in expansion,
his eye will still turn with as fond a worship to the
lofty star, which is not less holy than the sun-light,
though it less fills the atmosphere immediately around
us. May I be permitted here to add, that I am ten
years older than I was when I began the study of
Schiller ?—since then I have investigated, with some
critical care, the characteristics of those poets whom
the world ranks amongst its greatest, and my admi-
ration for Schiller is more profound and reverential
than ever.
Nor do I think that Horace himself, in
his Odes, is more emphatically the representative of
classic civilization, in his perceptions of sensuous
beauty, and his inimitable grace of form, than Schil
ler, in the collection of Poems here translated, is the
representative of the civilization of Northern Man-
hood and Christian sentiment. Schiller is the type
of modern thought even in the faults imputed to him
See "Light and Warmth," p. 108.
1
}
STATE
.

PREFACE.
13
as poet-viz., an indifference to form in comparison
to substance, a perpetual desire to search, through
all phenomena submitted to contemplation, for an
ideal beauty or an abstract truth, and that noble ex-
travagance in the estimate of Art, and in the respect
for human dignity, not unnatural to those taught, by
influence of race and creed, to regard Art as a celes-
tial teacher-Man as an immortal soul.
I conclude these remarks with the following ex-
tracts from a critical commentary on Schiller, pre-
fixed to the former Edition:
"It is in the collection of his minor poems that
Schiller's true variety is best seen-a variety not of
character but of thought, of sentiment, of fancy, of
diction, and of metre. No single specimens of his
poems can give any accurate idea of the excellence
of the whole. It is the predominant merit of this
collection that it conveys the most transparent ex-
position of the poet; its contents are the confessions
of his soul, as well as the exercises of his genius.
For, with a little modification, what Jean Paul said
of Herder may be said of Schiller-' that he was less
a Poet than a Poem;' and, therefore, all his poetry
should be studied as illustrations of the Human Poem
-Schiller himself! Through the exuberant variety
2
a da A
14
i
PREFACE,
1

of his verse is discernible, as an elementary and har
monious principle, a character singularly frank,
thoughtful, elevated and pure; hence, as with some
great orator, favorite thoughts are often repeated,
because the earnestness of the man desires certain
truths to be impressed upon the memory. It is not
till we have concluded the entire collection that we
can thoroughly appreciate each single poem, or com-
prehend, in all its phases, the lofty nature of the
poet. Here, better than in all biographies, may be
traced the development of a great and laborious
mind: The exuberant fire of the First Period; the
subdued melody of the Second, whether in joy or in
doubt, in sorrowful passion or the first glimpses of
serene Art; the fullness of ripened knowledge, the
calm repose of mature genius, which characterize the
Third—all reflect, as in a glass, the changes of a pro-
gressive career, the development of a nature striving
for improvement, as a plant for the light..
As in the Life of Schiller the student may
gather noble and useful lessons of the virtue of man-
ly perseverance-of the necessity of continued self-
cultivation-of the alliance between labor and suc-
cess-between honesty and genius-so in his Poems
there is that which no deficiency in the translator can
.
Mg

Pastatoj Akt ERPEN FERNSE
PREFACE.
15
prevent from being living and distinct-a great and
forcible intellect ever appealing to the best feelings-
ever exalting those whom it addresses-ever intent
upon strengthening man in his struggles with his
destiny, and uniting with a golden chain the outer
world and the inner to the Celestial Throne. The
beauty of diction, the harmony of cadence, may es-
cape the translator. But Schiller's poetry is less in
form than in substance-less in subtile elegance of
words than in robust healthfulness of thought, which,
like man himself, will bear transplanting to every
clime. The vocation of his Muse is a Religious Mis-
sion; she loses not her spiritual prerogative, though
shorn of her stately pageantry, and despoiled of her
festive robes. Her power to convert and to enlight-
en, to purify and to raise, depends not on the splen-
dor of her appearance, but on the truths that she
proclaims."
IN
KON KANAKKAN PEMBEN ELLA STOKES,

፡፡
弯
​}

RESONU
TE DIVER: A BALLAD.
24
CONTENTS.
THE GLOVE: A TALE
THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG.
THE MEETING..
THE EXPECTATION..
THE SECRET.
To EMMA.
•
* ·
·
EVENING; FROM A PICTURE
THE SHARING OF THE EARTH
THE POET TO HIS FRIENDS; WRITTEN AT WEIMAR
THE LONGING
THE PILGRIM
THE DANCE..
THE NADOWESSIAN DEATH-DIRGE..
THE LAY OF THE MOUNTAIN
THE ALPINE HUNTER
THE GUIDES OF LIFE; THE SUBLIME AND THE BEAUTIFUL....
RUDOLF OF HAPSBURG; A BALLAD
THE FIGHT WITH THE Dragon
DITHYRAMB
• ..
•
··
•
***
1 •
THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN
THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR.
THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD.
THE MAIDEN' LAMENT
THE CHILD IN THE CRADLE
THE VAILED IMAGE AT SAIS..
•
FAST
28!
8C
88 + 8 =***
87
88
41
43
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46
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9 8 8 3 5 8 8 8 5 2 8 7 8 8 5 %
FREE JAREN
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57
59
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62
67
79
80
DISSAPORE I EN KNEESS
82

A RUSTAVAT TANGWANAKAN MEIGA is the MIRAMARAKENTACInelecht AK MUNKAIDRASEEN HEE
18
HONORS
THE RING OF POLYORATES: A BALLAD
THE IMMUTABLE
HOPE
THE PUILOSOPпIJAL EGOIST.
THE SEXES
J
•
POMPRII AND HBRCULANEUM.
Tп YOUTH BY TIM BROOK
FRIDOLIN; OR, THE MESSAGE TO THE FORGE.
PHILOSOPHERS..
TO THE IDEALS
PEGASUS IN HARNESS
PUNCH SONG
PUNCH SONG TO BE SUNG IN THE NORTH.
LIGHT AND WARMTH
BREADTH AND DEPTH..
HBRO AND LRANDER: A BALLAD
CASSANDRA
•
CONTENTS.
THE PLAYING INFANT.
TA VICTORY FEAST...
THE CRANES OF IBYOUS
THE HOSTAGE: A BALLAD.
THE COMPLAINT OF CERES.
THB ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL.
PARABLES AND RIDDLES.
THE MIGHT OF SONG..
THE MBROILANT.
HONOR TO WOMEN
THE WORDS OF BELIEF
TUR WORDS OF ERROR
GERMAN ART
THE WALK
THE LAY OF THE BELL
THE POETRY OF Life
THE ANTIQUE AT PARIS...
•
• •
•
+
••
+
• ་ ·
·
•
•
•
•
TAOK
91
228585
92
96
96
97
99
101
104
105
115
119
121
125
126
129
180
131
141
147
148
154
163
169
176
186
193
196
196
199
201
202
203
21€
256
237
ELLENCES, WH
FORSTANCETA NA STEDE MESA

20
HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE
AMALIA.......
A FUNERAL PHANTASIE
PHANTASIE TO LAURA.
••
•
TO LAURA PLAYING.
TO LAURA` RAPTURE
TO LAUEA, THE MYSTERY OF REMINISCENCE..
MELANCHOLY: TO LAura.
……….
First Period;
OR, EARLY POEMS.
·
•
THE INFANTICIDE
THE GREATNESS OF CREATION
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH.
THE BATTLE
ROUSSEAU
FRIENDSHIP
A GROUP IN TARTARUS
ELYSIUM.
**
•
·
··
*
•
CONTENTS.
·
►
•
• •
BERG
FAREWELL TO THE READER
THE FUGITIVE
THE FLOWERS
TO TIE SPRING..
TO MINNA
THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE; A HYMN..
FORTUNE AND WISDOM..
TO A MORALIST.
COUNT EBERHARD, THE GROWLER (DER GREINER) OF WURTEM-
*.*
•
•
C
C
**
PAQE
343
844
345
349
352
351
355
358
962
370
372
378
881
382
885
336
837
889
890
391
893
400
400
402
406
FANT GERAL TREA
CONGUE TENERE NAARBOERSTONE SIZE TUNE AİLE VESTIM

VENUESESTAVNICZE GENESTEVEZETE
VERMES ARMA VEDE MUNT THAT
ZEZANI BUNEEMSTONES
ĭ
THEKLA; A SPIRIT-VOICE.
WILLIAM TELL..
ARCHIMEDES
THE MAID OF ORLEANS
FAGI
237
239
240
240
241
242
243
244
245
253
255
255
259
261
261
264
265
271
272
TO THE HEREDITARY PRINCE OF SAXE WEIMAR..
To
A YOUNG FRIEND DEVOTING HIMSELF TO PHILOSOPHY ..... 274
275
277
277
CARTHAGE
COLUMBUS
VENIA
JOVE TO HERCULES
THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE
THE FAVOR OF THE MOMENT.
THE SOWER...
THE FORTUNE-FAVORED
SENTENCES OF CONFUCIUS
THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHERN WANDEREN
GENIUS
ULYSSES.
VOTIVE TABLETS.
OTHER EPIGRAMS, ETC.
0
--
--
•
•
CONTENTS.
•
* · •
THE PUPPET-SHOW OF LIFE
THE MINSTrels of old
THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE NEW CENTURY
YMN TO JOY
THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA
THE CONFLICT
...
••
曹
​Second Period.
..
•
•••
A •
•
...
TO A FELLOW-SUFFERER)
To A FEMALE FRIEND; WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM.
RESIGNATION'.
THE GODS OF GREECE.
THE ARTISTS ....
THE CELEBRated Woman (An Epistle BY A MARRIED MAN-
•
···
•
•
+
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**
•
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19
•
285
289
291
292
296
302
330
888
ZERGASHONALAN HAVANATOLEYANAZISUSPIR
S
GRAALIMWANZA

ů
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE DIVER;
A BALLAD.
THE original of the story on which Schiller has founded this ballad,
matonless perhaps for the power and grandeur of its descriptions, is
to be found in Kircher. According to the true principles of imitative
art, Schiller has preserved all that is striking in the legend, and en-
nobled all that is commonplace. The name of the Diver was Nich
olas, surnamed the Fish. The King appears, according to Hoffmeis-
ter's probable conjectures, to have been either Frederic I. or Frederic
II. of Sicily. Date from 1295 to 1877.
H, where is the knight or the squire so bold,
As to dive to the howling charybdis below?-
I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,
"O
And o'er it already the dark waters flow;
Whoever to me may the goblet bring,
Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his King."
He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep,
That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge
Of the endless and measureless world of the deep,
Swirl'd into the maëlstrom that maddened the
surge.
"And where is the diver so stout to go-
I ask ye again—to the deep below?”

KIT BENGALI
22
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And the knights and the squires that gather'd around.
Stood silent-and fix'd on the ocean their eyes;
They looked on the dismal and savage Profound.
And the peril chill'd back every thought of the
prize.
And thrice spoke the Monarch-"The cup to win,
Is there never a wight who will venture in ?”
And all as before heard in silence the King-
Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,
'Mid the tremulous squires-stept out from the ring
Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;
And the murmuring crowd, as they parted asunder,
On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder.
As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave
One glance on the gulf of that merciless main,
Lo! the wave that for ever devours the wave,
Casts roaringly up the charybdis again;
And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom.
And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
As when fire is with water commix'd and contend-
ing,
And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending;
And it never will rest, nor from travail be free,
Like a sea that is laboring the birth of a sea.
·
SPAGNEZIUNGERE DEHRING
ANTIERIGNACHÉS JINNAKOITTAMATOS ZONAS A
}
THE DIVER,
}

28
Yet, at length, comes a lull o'er the mighty commo-
tion,
And dark through the whiteness, and still through
the swell,
The whirlpool cleaves downward and downward in
ocean
A yawning abyss, like the pathway to hell;
The stiller and darker the farther it goes,
Suck'd into that smoothness the breakers repose.
The youth gave his trust to his Maker! Before
That path through the riven abyss closed again,
Hark! a shriek from the gazers that circle the shore,-
And, behold! he is whirl'd in the grasp of the main !
And o'er him the breakers mysteriously roll'd,
And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.
dpkg.
All was still on the height, save the murmur that went
From the grave of the deep, sounding hollow and
fell,
Or save when the tremulous sighing lament
Thrill'd from lip unto lip, "Gallant youth, fare-
thee-well!""
More hollow and more wails the deep on the ear-
More dread and more dread grows suspense in its fear.
If thou shouldst in those waters thy diadem fling,
And cry, "Who may find it shall win it and wear
God wot, though the prize were the crown of a king-
A crown at such hazard were valued too dear.
▼
INGERMENERUS
Call Me MsARLAND HOMESOKAN HATTONS ARE SI WAWEZALARAS SUALA
•
24
For never shall lips of the living reveal
What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Oh, inany a bark, to that breast grappled fast,
Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave;
Again, crash'd together the keel and the mast,
To be seen tost aloft in the glee of the wave!
Like the growth of a storm ever louder and clearer,
Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer.
And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
As when fire is with water commix'd and contend-
ing
And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending,
And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom.
And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom.
Like the wing of the cygnet-what gleams on the
sea?
Lo! an arm and a neck glancing up from the tomb !--
Steering stalwart and shoreward: O joy, it is he!
The left hand is lifted in triumph; behold,
It waves as a trophy the goblet of gold'
And he breathed deep, and he breathed long,
And he greeted the heavenly delight of the day.
They gaze on each other--they shout as they throng-
"He lives-lo, the ocean has render'd its prey!
P

THE DIVER.
25
And safe from the whirlpool and free from the grave,
Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave!"
And he comes, with the crowd in their clamor and
glee;
And the goblet his daring has won from the water.
He lifts to the King as he sinks on his knee ;—
And the King from her maidens has beckon'd his
daughter.
She pours to the boy the bright wine which they
bring,
And thus spoke the Diver-" Long life to the King!
"Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice,
The air and the sky that to mortals are given!
May the horror below nevermore find a voice-
Nor Man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven!
Nevermore —nevermore may he lift from the sight
The veil which is woven with Terror and Night!
"Quick bright'ning like light'ning the ocean rush'd
o'er me,
Wild floating, borne down fathom-deep from the
day;
Till a torrent rush'd out on the torrents that bore me.
And doubled the tempest that whirl'd me away.
Vain, vain was my struggle-the circle had won me,
Round and round in its dance the mad element spun
me.
CANSUGE
26
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
"From the deep then I call'd upon God-and He
heard me,
In the dread of my need, He vouchsafed to mine
eye
A rock jutting out from the grave that interr'd me;
I sprung there, I clung there-and Death pass'd
me by.
And, lo! where the goblet gleam'd through the abyss,
By a coral reef saved from the far Fathomless ·
"Below, at the foot of that precipice drear,
Spread the gloomy and purple and pathless Ob-
scure!
A silence of Horror that slept on the ear,
That the eye more appall'd might the Horror eu-
dure!
Salamander, snake, dragon-vast reptiles that dwell
In the deep-coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell.
"Dark crawl'd, glided dark the unspeakable swarms
Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast;
Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms;
Here the dark-moving bulk of the Hanmer-fish
pass'd;
And, with teeth grinning white and a menacing mo-
tion,
Went the terrible Shark-the Hyæna of Ocean.
There I hung, and the awe gather'd icily o'er me,
So far from the earth, where man's help there was
none !
1


THE DIVER.
The One Human Thing, with the Goblins before me-
Alone-in a loneness so ghastly—ALONE!
Deep under the reach of the sweet living breath,
And begirt with the broods of the desert of Death.
27
"Methought, as I gazed through the darkness. that
now
2
IT² saw a dread hundred-limb'd creature-its
prey!
And darted, devouring; I sprang from the bough
Of the coral, and swept on the horrible way;
And the whirl of the mighty wave seized me once
more,-
It seized me to save me, and dash to the shore."
On the youth gazed the Monarch, and marvel'd:
quoth he,
p
“Bold Diver, the goblet I promised is thine;
And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee-
Never jewels more precious shone up from the
mine-
If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again,
To say what lies hid in the innermost main ?"
Then outspake the daughter in tender emotion—
"Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest?
Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean—
He has served thee as none would, thyself hast
confest.
If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,
Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the
squire!"

1
28
The King seized the goblet, he swung it on high,
And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide;
But bring back that goblet again to my eye,
And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my
side;
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And thine arms shall embrace as thy bride, I decree,
The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee.”
And heaven, as he listened, spoke out from the space,
And the hope that makes heroes shot flame from
his eyes;
He gazed on the blush in that beautiful face-
It pales-at the feet of her father she lies!
How priceless the guerdon!-a moment, a breath,
And headlong he plunges to life and to death!
They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell,
Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell,
They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng,
Roaring up to the cliff-roaring back as before,
But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore!
LL
1 Und es wallet, und siedet, und brausel, and zischt,” &c. Goetho
was particularly struck with the truthfulness of these lines, of which
his personal observation at the Falls of the Rhine enabled him to
judge. Schiller modestly owns his obligations to Homer's description
of Charybdis, Odyss. lib. 12. The property of the higher order of
imagination to reflect truth, though not familiar to experience, is sin-
gularly illustrated in this description. Schiller had never seen even a
Waterfall.
2"Da Koch's heran," &c. The It in the original has been greatly
admired. The poet thus vaguely represents the fabulous misshapen
monster, the Polypus of the ancients.
我
​
AMEN AIR
THE DIVER.
NOTE.
29
THIS Ballad is the first composed by Schiller, if we except
his early and ruder lay of "Count Eberhard, the Quarrel-
ler," which really, however, has more of the true old ballad
spirit about it than those grand and artistical tales elabora.
ted by his riper genius, and belonging to a school of poetry
to which the ancient Ballad-singer certainly never pretended
to aspire. The old Ballad is but a simple narrative, without
any symbolical or interior meaning; but in most of the per-
formances to which Schiller has given the name of Ballad, a
certain purpose, not to say philosophy, in conception, raises
the Narrative into Dramatic dignity. Rightly, for instance,
has "The Diver" been called a Lyrical Tragedy in two Acts
-the first Act ending with the disappearance of the hero
amidst the whirlpool: and the conception of the contest of
Man's will with physical nature, together with the darkly
hinted moral not to stretch too far the mercy of heaven, be-
long in themselves to the design and the ethics of Tragedy.
There is another peculiarity in the art which Schiller em-
ploys upon his narrative poems. Though he usually enters
at once on the interest of his story, and adopts for the most
part the simple and level style of recital, he selects a subject
admitting naturally of some striking picture, upon which
be lavishes those resources of description that are only at
the command of a great poet; thus elevating the ancient
balla 1, not only into something of the Drama by conception,
but into something of the Epic by execution. The reader
will recognize this peculiarity in the description of the
Charybdis and the Abyss in the Ballad he has just concluded,
in that of the Storm in "Hero and Leander," of the Forge
and the Catholic Ritual in "Fridolin," of the Furies in thec
"Cranes of Ibycus," &c. We have the more drawn the
reader's notice to these distinctions between the simple
ballad of the ancient minstrels and the artistical narratives
3
{

STROKES AND MANGUNKANAPEUTRALAKIPIRANTAMARIA SUR, KERATSASTANKU KANNSTMALIKASITES
THESEORANG KA
80
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
THE GLOVE;
Ly, NON
A TAL E.
THE original of this well-known story is in St. Foix-Essai sur
Paris: dato, the reign of Francis L.
BEE
EFORE his lion-court,
To see the griesly sport,
Sate the King;
Beside him group'd his princely peers,
And dames aloft, in circling tiers,
Wreathed round their blooming ring.
of Schiller, because it seems to us that our English critics
are too much inclined to consider that modern Ballad-writing
succeeds or fails in proportion as it seizes merely the spirit
of the ancient. But this would lower genius to an exercise
of the same imitative ingenuity which a schoolboy or a col·
lege prizeman displays upon Latin lyrics-in which the mer-
it consists in the avoidance of originality. The great poet
cannot be content with only imitating what he studies; and
he succeeds really in proportion, not to his fidelity, but to
his innovations-that is, in proportion as he improves upon
what serves him as a model.
In the ballad of "The Diver" Schiller sought not only the
simple but the sublime. According to his own just theory
"The main Ingredient of Terror is the Unknown." He
here seeks to accomplish as a poet what he had before per-
ceived as a critic; and certainly the picture of his lonely
Diver amidst the horrors of the Abyss dwells upon the mem·
ory amongst the sublimest conceptions of modern Poetry.
DIELNICAMA MA

• Kant (aliyet Man Made in
THE GLOVE.
King Francis, where he sate,
Raised a finger-yawned the gate,
And, slow from his repose,
A LION goes!
Dumbly he gazed around
The foe-encircled ground;
And, with a lazy gape,
He stretched his lordly shape,
And shook his careless mane,
And-laid him down again!
A finger raised the King-
And nimbly have the guard
A second gate unbarr'd:
Forth, with a rushing spring,
A TIGER sprung!
Wildly the wild one yell'd
When the lion he beheld;
And, bristling at the look,
With his tail his sides he strook,
And roll'd his rabid tongue.
In many a wary ring
He swept round the forest-king,
With a fell and rattling sound;—
And laid him on the ground,
Grommelling!
The King raised his finger; then
Leap'd two LEOPARDS from the den
With a bound:
And boldly bounded they
}
31
T

SARAWAK SA and the ENEJ, JASENS
82
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Where the crouching tiger lay
Terrible!
And he griped the beasts in his deadly hold!
In the grim embrace they grappled and rolled
Rose the lion with a roar!
And stood the strife before;
And the wild-cats on the spot,
From the blood-thirst, wroth and hot,
Halted still!
From the gallery rais'd above,
A fair hand dropp'd a glove :—
Midway between the beasts of prey,
Lion and tiger; there it lay,
The winsome lady's glove!
Fair Cunigonde said, with a lip of scorn,
To the knight DELORGES-"If the love you have
Sworn
Were as gallant and leal as you boast it to be,
I might ask you to bring back that glove to me!"
The Knight left the place where the lady sate,
The Knight he has passed through the fearful gate;
The lion and tiger he stoop'd above,
And his fingers have closed on the lady's glove!
All shuddering and stunn'd, they beheld him there-
The noble knights and the ladies fair;
But loud was the joy and the praise the while
He bore back the glove with his tranquil smile'
M
INELTARAKE SHALL LASKEN SKRAISESTION

}
THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG.
88
With a tender look in her softening eyes,
That promised reward to his warmest sighs,
Fair Cunigonde rose her knight to grace-
He tossed the glove in the lady's face!
"Nay, spare me the guerdon, at least," quoth he,
And he left forever that fair ladye'
THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG.
In this beautiful ballad, Schiller is but little indebted to the true Le.
gend of Toggenburg, which is nevertheless well adapted to Narrative
Poetry. Ida, wife of Henry Count of Toggenburg, was suspected by
her husband of a guilty attachment to one of his vassals, and ordered to
be thrown from a high wall. Her life, however, was miraculously
saved;
she lived for some time as a female hermit in the neighboring
forest, till she was at length discovered, and her innocence recog-
nized. She refused to live again with the lord whose jealousy had
wronged her, retired to a convent, and was acknowledged as a saint
after her death. This Legend, if abandoned by Schiller, has found a
German Poet not unworthy of its simple beauty and pathos. Schil-
ler has rather founded his poem, which sufficiently tells its own tale,
upon a Tyrolese Legend, similar to the one that yet consecrates
Rolandseck and Nonnenworth on the Rhino. Hoffmeister implies
that, unlike "The Diver," and some others of Schiller's ballads, "The
Knight of Toggenburg" dispensos with all intellectual and typical
meaning, draws its poetry from feeling, and has no other purpose
than that of moving the heart. Still, upon feeling itself are founded
those ideal truths which make up the true philosophy of a Puet. In
these few stanzas is represented the poetical chivalry of an age-the
contest between the earthly passion and the religious devotion, which
constantly agitated human life in the era of the Crusades. How much
of deep thought has been employed to arouse the feelings-what in-
timate conviction of the moral of the Middle Ages, in the picture of
the Knight looking up to the convent of the Nun bowing calmly to
the vale!
Be
L
I
34
1
+

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
KNI
Κ
NIGHT, a sister's quiet love
Gives my heart to thee!
Ask me not for other love,
For it paineth me!
Calmly can I greet thee now,
Calmly see thee go;
Calmly ever,-why dost thou
Weep in silence so ?"
Sadly-(not a word he said!)—
To the heart she wrung,
Sadly clasped he once the maid,—
On his steed he sprung!
(6
Up, my men of Swisserland!”
Up awake the brave!
Forth they go-the Red-Cross band,
To the Saviour's grave!
High your deeds and great your fame,
Heroes of the Tomb!
Glancing through the carnage came
Many a dauntless plume.
Terror of the Moorish foe,
Toggenburg, thou art!
But thy heart is heavy! Oh,
IIeavy is thy heart!
Heavy was the load his breast
For a twelvemonth bore:
Never could his trouble rest,
And he left the shore.
Ĭ

i
1
THE KNIGHT OF TOGGENBURG.
Lo! a ship on Joppa's strand,
Breeze and billow fair
On to that beloved land,
Where she breathes the air!
Knocking at her castle-gate
Was the pilgrim heard;
Woe the answer from the grate!
Woe the thunder-word!
"She thou seckest lives-a Nun!
To the world she died,
When, with yester-morning's sun,
Heaven receiv'd a Bride!"
From that day, his father's hall
Ne'er his home may be;
Helm and hauberk, steed and all,
Evermore left he!
Where his castle-crowned hight
Frowns the valley down,
Dwells unknown the hermit-knight,
In a sackcloth gown.
Rude the hut he builds him there,
Where his eyes may view
Wall and cloister glisten fair
Dusky lindens through.'
There, when dawn was in the skies,
Till the eve-star shone,
Sate he with mute wistful eyes,
Sate he there-alone!
35
i
2 50
!

"
KEEPING tedna zozOLEADAANIKA NENATORERONA, a
23. SI SVOJIM PAK (EAS
36
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Looking at the cloister, still,
Looking forth afar,
Looking to her lattice-till
Clink'd the lattice-bar:
Till-a passing glimpse allow'd—
Paused her image pale,
Calm and angel-mild, and bow'd
Meekly toward the vale.
Then the watch of day was o'er,
Then, consoled awhile,
Down he lay, to greet once more
Morning's carly smile.
Days and years are gone, and still
Looks he forth afar,
Uncomplaining, hoping-till
Clinks the lattice-bar
Till-a passing glimpse allow'd—
Paused her image pale,
Calm and angel-mild, and bow'd
Meekly toward the vale.
So, upon that lonely spot,
Sate he, dead at last,
With the look where life was not
Toward the casement cast!
1 In this description (though to the best of our recollection it has es-
caped the vigilance of his many commentators), Schiller evidently has
his eye and his mind upon the scene of his early childhood at Lorch, a
scene to which in later life ho was fondly attached. The village of
Lorch lics at the foot of a hill crowned with a convent, before the
walls of which springs an old linden or limo tree. The ruined castle
of Hohenstamien is in the immediate neighborhood.
BENGA
B

}
l
THE MEETING.
THE MEETING.
THIS poem,
and the two that immediately follow, appear to have been
inspired by Charlotte von Lengefeld, whom Schiller afterwards mar-
ried. "The Meeting" is the only one of Schiller's poems that re-
minds us of the Italian poets. It has in it something of the sweet
mannerism of Petrarch.
I
SEE her still, with many a fair one nigh,
Of every fair the stateliest shape appear:
She seemed a sun to my delighted eye—
I stood afar, and durst not venture near
Seized, as the splendor spread before me, by
The trembling passion of voluptuous fear,
Yet swift, as borne upon some hurrying wing,
The impulse snatched me, and I swept the string.
87
What then I felt-what sung-my memory hence
From that wild moment would in vain invoke ;
It was the life of some discovered sense
That in the heart's divine emotion spoke;
Long years imprisoned, and escaping thence
From every chain, the SOUL enchanted broke,
And found a music in its own deep core,
Unguessed and godlike, that had slept before.
Not till the music long had died in space,
Back unto me the soul transported came;
And then I looked upon that angel face,
And saw dear love contend with charming shame;
I heard and heaven descended on the place!—
A voice low-murmuring bliss divine proclaim:
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SNOWRA CAN STEVEN LASSUNGSHAWANANGSAANSE WHO ARE
38
Only again in yonder choral skies
Can sounds so sweet my soul imparadise.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
"I know the worth within the heart which sighs,
Yet shuns, the modest sorrow to declare;
And what rude fortune niggardly denies,
Unto the noble shall my love repair.
Still to the poor reserved the wealthiest prize;
To cull love's flower is but for love to dare;
The wealthiest treasure to his lot shall fall
Whose heart, receiving, still returneth, all.”
THE EXPECTATION.
(DIE ERWARTUNG.)
NOTE.-In Schiller, the eight long lines that conclude each stanza of
his charming love-poem, instead of rhyming alternately, as in the
translation, chime somewhat to the tune of Byron's Don Juan-six
dnes rhyming with each other, and the two last forming a separate
couplet. I have also made a slight change in the rhythm of the short-
er verses in each stanza.
I.
"HEAR
EAR 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,
Take from her gracious looks the only light;
With shadowy boughs, whose secrets are star-proof
Build the still hall and weave the friendly night!
LA TENTATEN GUTAN AT ITUAL P
*5) 33-# Në Kurdu. Ikke ma
DE LA BAN RESONA

>
!
THE EXPECTATION.
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.
III.
"Hush! what amidst the copses crept
So swiftly by me now?
No 'twas the startled bird that swept
The light leaves of the bough!
89
"Day, quench thy torch! Forth, forth, O Night!
All hail
Thee and thine own loved Silence! Favoring
hour
Spiritual, round us spread thy purple vail,
And shroud yet more the secret-guarding bower
Love's paradise vouchsafes no listener's ear,
It flies the light-admits no eye to see;
Hesper alone, the Silent One, may hear!
Hesper, down-glancing, the sole witness be!
III.
“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;
With grateful murmur purls the waterfall;
1
4
\

40
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
To Zephyr's kiss the flowers are bending low;
All where I look exchange delight with all.
The rich grapes beckon; from the glossy lair
Of covert leaves the ripe peach swelling breaks.
Steep'd in the fragrance of the evening air,
Cool breezes drink the fever from my cheek.
IV.
“Hark! through the laurels hear I now
A footfall? Comes the maiden?
No,-'twas the fruit slid from the bough,
With its own richness laden!
"Day's lustrous eyes grow heavy in sweet death,
And his rich colors wane in slow degrees;
The flowers that shrunk before his glowing breath,
Bold in the twilight ope their chalices.
The bright face of the moon is still and lone,
Melts in vast masses the world silently;
Slides from each charm the slowly-loosening zone;
And round all beauty, vailless, roves the eye.
V.
“What yonder seems to glimmer?
Her white robe's glancing hues?-
No,-'twas the column's shimmer
Athwart the darksome yews!
⚫O, longing heart, no more, delight up-buoy'd
Let the sweet airy image thee befoul!
}
THE SECRET
The arms that would embrace her clasp the void.
This feverish breast no phantom-bliss can cool.
O, waft her here, the true, the living one!
Let but my hand her hand, the tender, feel---
The very shadow of her robe alone!—"
See where the vision into life doth steal!
And light, as comes, when least we ween,
From heaven the hour of bliss,
All gently came the maid, unseen;-
He waked beneath her kiss! -
THE SECRET.
A
ND not a word by her was spoken,
For many a listener's ear was by,
But sweetly was the silence broken,
For eye could well interpret eye.
Soft to thy green pavilion stealing,
Fair Beech, thy stilly shades I gain;
Oh, veil with boughs that droop concealing,
Two lovers from the world profane!
41
Far off, with dull, unquiet clamor,
Labors the vexed and busy day;
And, through the hum, the sullen hammer
Comes heaving down its heavy way.
}
?

- i

!
+
1
MAN →
42
ا
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Thus man pursues his weary calling,
And wrings the hard life from the sky,
While unbought happiness is falling
Down from God's bosom silently.
The charm to us in secret granted
May never mortal step destroy!
For they whom joy has ne'er enchanted
Are still the jealous foes of joy.
Bliss as a boon the world denieth,
And thou must chase her as the prey;
Insnare or seize her as she flieth,
Ere Envy snatch the prize away.
Soft, upon tiptoe, coyly stealing,
She loves the silence and the night;
From spies that watch, her steps concealing;
And seen,-to vanish from the sight.
O, gird us round, thou softest river,'
With broader waters clasp us round,
And let thy threatening waves forever
Protect Love's sanctuary ground.
1 Probably the river Saale, on the banks of which Schiller was ac-
customed to meet his Charlotte.
&

1
↓
}
ΤΟ ΕΜΜΑ.
TO EMMA.
A
MIDST the cloud-gray deeps afar
The Bliss departed lies;
Yet linger on one lonely star
The loving wistful eyes !
Alas—a star in truth!—the light
Shines but a signal of the night!
If lock'd within the icy chill
Of the long sleep, thou wert-
My faithful grief could find thee still
A life within my heart;-
But, oh, the worse despair to see
Thee live to earth, and die to me!
Can those sweet longing hopes, which make
Love's essence, thus decay?
Can that be love which doth forsake?-
That love-which dies away?
That earthly blessings fade, I knew-
Is light from Heaven as fading too?
1716
鼻
​43
& pati
{

3
44
b
1
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
EVENING;
FROM A PICTURE.
IN
INK, shining god-the parched fields are thirsting
For the fresh dews; man faints with labor wea-
ried.
Falter thy languid steeds;
Let thy car sink below!
See, who from out the ocean's crystal waters
Beckons thee smiling!-Does thy heart discern her'
Swifter the steeds fly on:
'Tis Thetis beckons thee!
Swift from the car springs to her lov'd embraces
The charioteer-the reins are seized by Cupid.
Still halt the guideless steeds,
And drink the cooling wave..
Upward in heaven, with noiseless steps ascending,
Comes balmy Night; sweet Love her footsteps for
lows-
J
To all be rest and love!-
Phoebus the lover rests.
they

|
او
THE SHARING OF THE EARTH.
THE SHARING OF THE EARTH.
"HERE, take the world!” cried Jove from out his
heaven
To mortals-"Be you of this earth the heirs;
Free to your use the heritage is given;
Brother-like choose the shares."
Then every hand stretch'd eager in its greed,
And busy was the work with young and old;
The Tiller settled upon glebe and mead,
The Hunter, wood and wold.
The Merchant grip'd the store, and lock'd the
ware-
The Abbot chose the gardens of the vine-
The King barr'd up the bridge and thoroughfare.
And cried, "The tolls are mine!"
And when the earth was thus divided, came
Too late the Poet from afar, to see
45
That all had proffer'd and had seiz'd their claim-
And is there naught for me?
"Shall I, thy truest son, be yet of all
Thy human children portionless alone?"
Thus went his cry, and Jove beheld him fall
Before the heavenly throne.
1
Sp
If in the land of dreams thou wert abiding,"
Answered the God, "why murmurest thou at Ma̸ ?
4

1
F
..
46
Say, where wert thou when earth they were divid-
ing?"
The poet said, "BY THEE!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
26
Upon thy glorious aspect dwelt my sight-
The music of thy heaven inthrall'd my ear;
Pardon the soul, if, drunken with thy light,
It lost its portion here!"
46
Yet," answered Jove, "the world no more is
mine-
Field, chase, and mart are given;-no place for
thee!
But come at will, since earth thou must resign,
To Heaven,-and live with me."
THE POET TO HIS FRIENDS;
WRITTEN AT WEIMAR,
FRIENDS! yes, the days of old
I grant more fair than those that we behold;
And there has lived a race of loftier worth.
Could even History cease the past to tell,
A thousand stones that truth would chronicle
Disburied from the bosom of the earth.
But yet that race, if more endowed than ours,
Is gone to dusty graves '-we-we survive,
We have our charter in the present hours,
We have life's right to live. ~
鼻
​1
1
1
}
Tu
THE POET TO HIS FRIENDS.
!

Though native not beneath our winters keen,
Or bays or myrtle-still our hands can twine
Wreaths for our temples of as fair a green,
Won from the clustering vine.
Suns are of happier ray
Than where, not ill, we while our life away,
If the far-wandering traveler speaks aright;
But much which Nature hath to us denied
Art, the kind friend, has lavishly supplied,
And warm'd our hearts with sunshine from her
light!
47
Well may proud hearts take pleasure
Where the four Regions interchange their treasure,
And greedy eyes the Pomp of Trade behold,
Where Thames receives the thousand sails unfurl'd
Which seek or leave the market of the world-
And in his splendor reigns the Earth-god,-GOLD.
Yet it is not the streams,-that hurrying pass,
Swell'd by the rains, and troubled as they run,
But the still waters,—that serenely glass
The image of the sun.¹
Prouder and more elate
Than we o' the North, beside the Angel's Gate³
The beggar dwells, and sees eternal Rome!
There to his gaze the Beautiful is given
In all its pomp, and, swelling into heaven,
A second heaven, St. Peter's wondrous Dome.
But Rome in all her glory is a grave,
1

¦
48
The gorgeous sepulcher of perish'd power.
Life only breathes in the fresh plants that wave,
Strewn by the present hour!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
Elsewhere are nobler things
Than to our souls our scant existence brings.
The New beneath the sun hath never been!
Yet still we see each grander elder age
Bid its great shades revive upon the stage-
And give the world its mirror in the scene.³
Life but repeats itself, all stale and worn;
Sweet Phantasy alone is young for ever;
What ne'er and nowhere on the earth was born
Along grows aged never.
• 1 These lines afford one of the many instances of the peculiar tona-
city with which Schiller retained certain favorite ideas. At the age
of seventeen he had said, "Not on the stormy sea, but on the calm
and glassy stream, does the sun reflect itself."-See Hoffmeister, Part
iv., p. 89.
2 St. Peter's Church.
The signification of these lines in the original has been disputed
-I accept Hoffmeister's interpretation-Part vi., p. 40.
"The light that never was on sea or land,
The Consecration and the Poet's Dream."
WORDSWORTH.
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THE LONGING.
THE LONGING.
HEA
EAVY vapors coldly hover,
Round the vale I cannot flee;
Outlet could I but discover,
Blessed were escape to me!
Ever green in fair dominion,
Yonder hill-top I survey;
Thither, could I find the pinion,
Thither would I wing my way!
Hark! I hear the music ringing—
Harmonies of heavenly calm,
And the gentle winds are bringing,
Breathing, bringing down the balm.
Yonder, fruits are golden-glowing,
Beckoning from the leafy shade,
And the blooms that there are blowing
Never doth the winter fade.
Beautiful must life be yonder,
Suns eternal there to see,
Airs that on the mountain wander,
Oh, how healing must they be!
Yet before me rolls a river—
Roaringly its waters roll;
And its waves, that swell forever,
Send a horrer to my soul.
On the surge a boat is tossing;
But, alas! the pilot fails!—
49
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NAKARAAN
*
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Enter-enter, dare the crossing-
Breath spiritual fills the sails!
Guarantees no gods concede thee;
Safety in believing dwells;
Only miracle can lead thee
To the land of Miracles!"
1
THE PILGRIM.
"YOUTH'S gay spring-time scarcely knowing
Went I forth the world to roam-
And the dance of youth, the glowing,
Left I in my Father's home.
Of my birthright, glad-believing,
Of my world-gear took I none,
Credulous as childhood, cleaving
To my pilgrim staff alone.
Goaded forth by mighty hope in
Dark and mystic words of Faith,
“Wander forth-the way is open,
Ever on the upward path—
Till thou gain the Golden Portal,
Till its gates unclose to thee,
There the Earthly and the Mortal,
Deathless and Divine shall be !"
Night on Morning stole, and stealeth,
Never, never stand I still,
1 "Wo kein Wunder geschlght, ist kein Beglückter zu sehn
--SCHILLER Das Glück.
ir
1

1
THE PILGRIM.
And the Future yet concealeth,
What I seek, and what I will!
Mount on mount arose before me,
Torrents hemmed me every side,
But I built a bridge that bore me
O'er the roaring tempest-tide.
Toward the East I reached a river,
On its shores I did not rest;
Faith from Danger can deliver,
And I trusted to its breast.
Drifted in the whirling motion,
Seas themselves around me roll-
Wide and wider spreads the ocean,
Far and farther flies the goal.
Ah! the pathway is not given;
Ah! the goal I cannot near-
Earth will never meet the Heaven,
Never can the THERE be HERE!
NOTE.
51
THE two poems of "The Longing" and "The Pilgrim'
belong to a class which may be said to allegorize Feeling,
and the meaning, agreeably to the genius of allegory or
parable, has been left somewhat obscure. The commenta-
tors agree in referring both poems to the illustration of the
Ideal. "The Longing" represents the desire to escape from
real world into the higher realms of being. The Pilgrim"
represents the active labor of the idealist to reach "the
Golden Gate." The belief in what is beyond Reality is
necessary to all who would escape from the Real; and in
"The Longing" it is intimated that that belief may attain
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
the end. But the Pilgrim, after all his travail, finds that
the earth will never reach the heaven, and the There never
can be Here. Many readers (especially in England) will be
inclined to give to the two poems an interpretation at once
loftier and more familiar, and to regard them as the expres-
sion of the natural human feeling-common not to poets
alone, but to us all-the human feeling which approaches
to an instinct, and in which so many philosophers have re.
cognized the inward assurance of a hereafter, viz,. the
desire to escape from the coldness and confinement,
"the
valley and the cloud," of actual life, into the happier world
which smiles, in truth, evermore upon those who believe
that it exists: for the desire of the poet is here identical
with the desire of the religious man. He who longs for
another world-only to be attained by abstraction from
the low desires of this-longs for what the Christian
strives for.
THE DANCE.
SEE
NEE how the couples whirl along the Dance's
buoyant tide;
And scarcely touch with winged feet the floor on
which they glide,
Oh, are they flying shadows, from material forms
set free?
Or elfin shapos, whose airy rings the summer moon-
beams see?
As, by the gentle zephyr blown, some light mist
flees in air,
Or as the skiff that softly rocks, when silver waves
are fair,
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THE DANCE.
53
So doth the docile footstep on the wave of measure
bound,
So doth the form ethereal float on murmuring airs
of sound,
See now, as if intent to break the light chain of the
dance,
Forth swinging from the crowded throng a bolder
pair advance,
The path they leave behind them lost-wide opes
the path beyond,
The way unfolds or closes up as by a magic wand.
Now snatched from sight—and now the press of each
impeding all,
That moving world's symmetric scheme in ruin
seems to fall,
No!-disentangled glides the knot, the gay disor-
der ranges-
The only system ruling here-a grace that ever
changes.
For aye destroyed-for aye renewed, that charm'd
creation rolls
Its dizzy course, and every change one tranquil law
controls.
Say, what upon the reeling maze the restless life
bestows,
And modulates the movement to the order of repose?
That each, a ruler to himself, doth but himself
obey,
Yet through the hurrying course still keeps his
own appointed way?
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54
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
Would'st know?-'tis Harmony divine; the Power
whose sovereign pleasure
Compels the eager bound of each into the social
measure.
That doth, like Nemesis, and with sweet rhythm, the
golden rein,'
The impetuous strength of wild delight, attuned to
grace, restrain.
And comes THE WORLD'S wide harmony in vain
upon thine ears?
The stream of music borne aloft from yonder choral
spheres ?
Perceiv'st thou not the measure which Eternal Na-
ture keeps?
The whirling Dance forever held in yonder azure
deeps?
The suns that wheel in varying maze?-That mea-
sure thou discernest?
No! Thou canst honor that in sport which thou
forget'st in earnest.ª
1"Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie,
To lull the daughters of Necessity,
And keep unsteady Nature to her law,
And the low world in measured motion draw,
After the heavenly tune which none can hear
Of human mold, with gross unpurgèd ear."
MILTON'S Arcades.
This poem is very characteristic of the noble case with which
Schiller often loves to surprise the reader, by the sudden introduc
tion of matter for the loftiest reflection, in the midst of the most
familiar subjects. What can be more accurate and happy than
the poet's description of the national dance, as if such description
!

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THE NADOWESSIAN DEATH-DIRGE.
were his only object-the outpouring, as it were, of a young gal-
Sud.
lant, intoxicated with the music, and dizzy with the waltz?
denly and imperceptibly the reader finds himself elevated from a
trivial scene. He is borne upward to the harmony of the spheres,
and listens to the law of the universe.
THE NADOWESSIAN DEATH-DIRGE.
THE idea of this Poen is taken from Carver's Travels through
North America. Goethe reckoned it amongst Schiller's best poems
of the kind, and wished he had made a dozen such. But, precisely
because Goethe admired it for its objectivity, William Von Humboldt
found it wanting in ideality.
SEE
EE there he sits, upon his mat,
There still he sits upright;
The same as when he living sat,
And looked upon the light.
But where the right hand's strength? and where
The breath that once did breathe,
To the Great Spirit aloft in air,
The pipe's pale vapor-wreath?
And where the eyes so falcon clear,
On waves of grass to view
The faintest track that wandering deer
Had left on blade or dew?
Are these the feet that could not flag,
But bounded through the snow,
As when, full-antlered, flies the stag,
Or the light mountain roe?
Are these the arms that proudly bore,
And stoutly bent, the bow?
55
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56
POEMS AND BALLADS OF CHILLER.
See, limp and loose-their life i o’er—
See, helpless hang they now!
Yet weal to him-c'er fields he rays,
Where snows no more can falı;
Gone hence-to meads that shine with maize
Which springs, self-sown, for all.
Where birds abound on every brake-
Where forests teem with deer-
Where swarm the fish through every lake-
One chase from year to year!
There, Spirits now he feasts amid-
And leaves us here bereft,
That we may praise the deeds he did,
And-bury what is left.
Here bring the last gifts!-and with these
The last lament be said;
Let all that pleased, and yet may please,
Be buried with the Dead.
Beneath his head the hatchet hide
That he so stoutly swung-
And place the bear's fat haunch beside,
The journey hence is long!
And let the knife new-sharpened be,
That, on the battle-day,
Shore with quick strokes he took but three-
The foeman's scalp away!
The paints that warriors love to use
Place here within his hand';
That he may shine with ruddy hues
Amidst the Spirit-land
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THE ALPINE HUNTER.
THE LAY OF THE MOUNTAIN.
THE SCENERY OF GOTTHARDT IS HERE PERSONIFIED.
THE three following ballads, in which Switzerland is the scene, betray
their origin in Schiller's studies for tho Drama of William Tell.
TH
HE dizzy Bridge hangs o'er the nether abyss,
Life and death it goes winding between;
In the desolate path, o'er the lone precipice,
The giants that threaten are seen:
That thou wake not the Lioness,' silently tread-
And still be thy breath in the pathway of Dread.
High over the marge springs the arch that doth span
The deeps that lie fearful below;
That Bridge was not built by the science of Man-
Such daring did Man never know:
Late and early the stream roars beneath it for ever,
Invading and storming,-and harming it never.
Black and dreary, a Portal expands to thy sight,
It seems like the Realm of the Dead-
57
Yet beyond it there smiles but a land of delight,
Where the Spring with the Autumn is wed.
Ah, if to that valley of bliss I could gain
From this life, ever weary with trouble and pain
Belew, to the plain (ever hidden their source),
Four Rivers rush roaringly forth-
l'he fourfold divisions of earth for their course;
The east and the west-south and north.
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58
On, fast as they spring from their mother, they roar,
Forth flying and rushing, and lost evermore,
THE POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Two peaks rise aloft in the blue of the air,
O'er the world that to mortals is given;
Veil'd in vapors of gold, dance eternally there
The Clouds,-silent Daughters of Heaven!
And there, where no breath of the earthborn may
breathe,
Their dance in the solitude noiseless they wreathe.
High, and bright to behold, sits a Queen; looking
down
From a throne never threatened by time,
And wondrous the diamonds that blaze in the crown
That encircles her temples sublime.
The sun shoots his arrows of light on that form,
But he only can gild it-he never can warm.
1 The Lioness-(Löwin for Lawine)-the avalanche. 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 roaring stream,
2 The Devil's Bridge. The Land of Delight (called in Tell “a se
rene 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 Tessin, and the Rhone.
e The everlasting glacier. See William Tell, act v. scene 2.
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THE ALPINE HUNTER.
THE ALPINE HUNTER.
FOUNDED ON A LEGEND OF THE VALLEY OF ORMOND, IN THE
PAYS DE VAUD.
f
"WILT thou
ILT thou not, thy lamblings heeding
(Soft and innocent are they!)
Watch them on the herbage feeding,
Or beside the brooklet play?"
"Mother, mother, let me go,
O'er the mount to chase the roe."
"Wilt thou not, thy herds assembling,
Lure with lively horn along?—
Sweet their clear bells tinkle trembling,
Sweet the echoing woods among!"
Mother, mother, let me go,
O'er the wilds to chase the roe."
"See the flowers that smile unto thee-
Wilt thou tend them not, my child?
On the height no gardens woo thee;
Wild is nature on the wild.”
"Leave the flowers in peace to blow;
Mother, mother, let me go!"
Forth the hunter bounds unheeding,
On his hardy footsteps press;
Hot and eager, blindly speeding
To the mountain's last recess
59
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60
THE POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Swift, before him, as the wind,
Panting, trembling, flies the hind.
Up the ribbed crag-tops driven,
Up she clambers, steep on steep;
O'er the rocks asunder riven
Springs her dizzy, daring leap:
Still unwearied, with the bow
Of death, behind her flies the foe.
On the peak that rudely, drearly
Jags the summit, bleak and hoar,
Where the rocks, descending sheerly,
Leave to flight no path before;
There she halts at last, to find
Chasms beneath the foe behind!
To the hard man
dumb-lamenting,
Turns her look of pleading woe;
the Unrelenting
Turns in vain
Meets the look and bends the bow, -
Yawn'd the rock; from his abode
Forth the mountain Genius strode;
And, his godlike hand extending,
From the hunter snatched the
prey,
"Wherefore, woe and slaughter sending
To my solitary sway?-
Why should my herds before thee fall?
THERE'S ROOM UPON THE EARTII FOR ALL!"

{
THE GUIDES OF LIFE.
TWO
61
THE GUIDES OF LIFE.
(THE SUBLIME AND THE BEAUTIFUL.)
VO genii are there. from thy birth through
weary life to guide thee;
Ah, happy when, united both, they stand to aid, be-
side thee!
With gleesome play, to cheer the path, the One
comes blithe with beauty-
And lighter, leaning on his arm, the destiny and
duty.
With jest and sweet discourse, he goes unto the
rock sublime,
Where halts above the Eternal Sea,' the shuddering
Child of Time.
The Other here, resolv'd and mute, and solemn
claspeth thee,
And bears thee in his giant arms across the fearful
sea.
Never admit the one alone!-Give not the former
guide
Thy honor-nor unto the last thy happiness con-
fide!
1 By this, Schiller informs us eisewhere that he does not mean Death
alone; but that the thought applies equally to every period in life,
when we can divest ourselves of the body, and perceive or act as
pure spirits; we are truly then under the influence of the Sublime.
5
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
RUDOLF OF HAPSBURG;
Α
HINEIous properly classes this striking ballad (together with the yet
grander one of the "Fight with the Dragon") amongst those designed
to depict and exa.t the virtue of Humility. The source of the story
is in Ægidius Tschudi, a Swiss chronicler; and Schiller appears to
have adhered, with much fidelity, to the original narrative. The
metre in the translation is slightly altered from that in the original,
which has, when strictly rendered into English, a certain jerk in its
rhythm, not pleasing to the ear.
A BALLAD.
T Aachen, in imperial state,
In that time-hallowed hall renown'd,
At solemn feast King Rudolf sate,
The day that saw the hero crown'd!
Bohemia and thy Palgrave, Rhine.
Give this the feast, and that the wine;'
The Arch Electoral Seven,
Like choral stars around the sun,
Gird him whose hand a world has won,
The anointed choice of Heaven.
/
In galleries raised above the pomp,
Pressed crowd on crowd their panting way
And with the joy-resounding tromp,
Rang out the million's loud hurra!
For after rapine, strife, and crime
Has closed the fearful kingless time,
Earth knows a JUDGE again :
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RUDOLF OF HAPSBURG.
No longer rules the iron spear,
No longer need the feeble fear
That Might alone shall reign.
¡
In Rudolf's hand the goblet shines-
And gayly round the board looks he;
And proud the feast, and bright the wines,
My kingly heart feels glad to me!
Yet where the Gladness-Bringer-blest
In the sweet art which moves the breast
With lyre and verse divine?
Dear from my youth the craft of song,
And what as knight I loved so long,
As Kaisar, still be mine."
Lo, 'mid the princely circle there,
With sweeping robe the Bard appears,
As silver white his gleaming hair,
Bleach'd by the winds of many years:
'Sweet music sleeps in golden strings-
Love's rich reward the minstrel sings;
The highest and the best
That heart can wish, or sense desire,
He praises;-dictate to my lyre
Theme for thy stateliest feast."
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69
The Great One smil'd-"Not mine the sway-
The minstrel owns a loftier power-
A mightier king inspires the lay-
Its hest-THE IMPULSE OF THE HOUR'
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64
]]
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
As spring the storm-winds to the skies,
And none can guess from whence they rise,
As streams from founts unseen,
Song gushes from within-revealing,
The while it wakes, the realm of Feeling,
Hush'd in the souls of men !"
Swift with the fire the minstrel glow'd,
And loud the music swept the ear:—
"Forth to the chase a Hero rode,
To hunt the bounding chamois-deer;
With shaft and horn the squire behind;—
Through greensward meads the riders wind-
A tinkling bell they hear.
Lo, with the HOST, a holy man,-
Before him strides the sacristan,
And the bell sounds near and near.
"The noble hunter bared his head,
And humbly to the earth inclin❜d,
Revering, as becomes our creed,
The meek Redeemer of Mankind!
Loud through the plain a brooklet raves,
And checks the path with swollen waves,
Down rushing from the hill.
His sandle shoon the priest unbound,
And laid the Host upon the ground,
To ford the angry rill!
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RUDOLF OF HAPSBURG.
"'What wouldst thou, priest?' the Count began.
And gazing, wondering, halted there.
• Sir Count, I seek a dying man,
Who hungers for the heavenly fare.
The bridge o'er which my journey lay
By the strong torrent swept away,
Drifts down the tide below.
That the sick soul of health may taste,
Now barefoot through the stream I haste,
God's healing to bestow.'
"The Count has placed him on the steed,
And given the priest the lordly reins,
That he might serve the sick man's need,
And speed the task that heaven ordains.
He took the horse the squire bestrode ;—
On to the chase the hunter rode,
The priest the sick man sought.
And back the steed, when morn was red,
All meekly by the bridle led,
With thankful looks he brought.
'Now Heaven forefend!' the Hero cried,
'That e'er to chase or battle more
These limbs the sacred steed bestride
65
That once my Maker's image bore;
If not a boon allowed to thee,
Thy Lord and mine its Master be.
To Him in tribute given,
sa
66
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​
pa papa de pe mam pa sa mga mapan pa
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
From whom I hold, as fiefs, since birth,
Honor and life, the goods of earth,
Soul-and the hopes of Heaven!'
"So may the Lord of Hosts, who hears
His lowliest servant's supplication,
Accord the man who Him reveres-
Honor on earth-in Heaven salvation.
Far-famed even now through Swisserland,
Thy kingly rule and knightly hand;
Six daughters thine; and they,'
Inspired he cries, shall crown thy stem
Each with a regal diadem,
2
Bright till the Judgment-day.'
99
The mighty Kaisar heard amazed!
His heart was in the days of old;
Into the minstrel's eyes he gazed,
That tale the Kaisar's own had told.
Yes, in the bard the priest he knew,
And in the purple vailed from view
The gush of holy tears!
All on the Kaisar fix their sight;
Each in the Kaisar sees the knight;
And God's elect reveres !
2 The office, at the coronation feast, of the Count Palatine of the
Rhine (Grand Sewer of the Empire, and one of the Seven Electors)
was to bear the Imperial Globe and set the dishes on the board; that
of the King of Bohemia was cup-bearer. The latter was not, how-
ever, present, as Schiller himself observed in a note (omitted in the
editions of his collected works), at the coronation of Rudolf.
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67
2 At the coronation of Rudolf was celebrated the marriage-feast of
three of his daughters-to Ludwig of Bavaria, Otto of Brandenburg,
and Albrecht of Saxony. His other three daughters married after-
ward Otto, nephew of Ludwig of Bavaria, Charles Martell, son of
Charles of Anjou, and Wenceslaus, son of Ottocar of Bohemia. The
royal house of England numbers Rudolf of Hapsburg amongst its an-
cestors.
WHY
THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON.
THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON.
HY run so fast the hurtling crowd
Adown the long streets, roaring loud?
Is Rhodes on fire ?-more fast the throng,
Wedg'd close and closer, storms along.
High o'er the train, he seems to lead,
Behold a Knight on warlike Steed!
Behind is dragged a wondrous load;
Beneath what Monster groans the road?
With wide jaws like the Crocodile,
In shape a Dragon to the sight,
All eyes in wonder gaze the while—
Now on the Monster, now the Knight.
A thousand voices shout in glee,
"This is the Dragon-come and see-
That did on herd and herdsmen feast,
And this the Knight who slew the beast,
Before him, in that dreadful strife,
Has many a champion ventured life,
But ne'er returned to mortal sight—
All honor to the victor Knight!"
¦
BARRE

**
68
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
So to the Convent Cloister all
The gathering crowd swept clamorous on;-
In haste convened within the hall,
Sate the vowed Knighthood of St. John.
Before the noble Master there,
The young Knight came with modest air;
The roaring crowd fill'd all the space
Beyond the rails that fenced the daïs:
The Victor took the word, and spake,--
"The duty knights with knighthood take
Is done; and, slain beneath my hand,
Lies the Devourer of the land.
Safe is the traveler from to-day,
And safe the grazing herds repose,
Safe to the shrine of grace, his way
Along the rocks the pilgrim goes!"
,
Stern look'd the Master,-"Thou hast done,”
He said, "a hero's deed, my son.
By valor knights are famous made;
A valiant soul thou hast display'd.
But to the knight, whose holier sword
Is vow'd to fight for Christ our Lord,
Who wears His cross-say, what is still
The first great law he must fulfill ?”
All round grew pale;-with downcast head
Replied the Victor of the day-
"To him who wears the cross," he said,
"The first great law is-TO OBEY!”

1
THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON.
"And yet that duty, son," replied
The chief, "methinks thou hast denied ;
And in the encounter which our law
Forbade, hast dared thy sword to draw.'
Master, when all is told, decide,"
With steadfast tone, the knight replied:
For I that law's true sense and will
But sought devoutly to fulfill.
Not blindly, with presumptuous heart,
Against the monster did I go;
But hoped, by stratagem and art,
To wrest the victory from the foe.
Five of our Order, whose renown
Flashed gem-like in Religion's crown,
Fell, rashly prodigal of life;-
'Twas then thy law forbade the strife.
Yet gloom was in my heart-desire
To share the conflict gnawed like fire:
In the still visions of the night,
Panting, I fought the fancied fight.
And when the morrow glimmering came,
With tales of ravage freshly done,
Indignant grief and fiery shame
Seized on me—and Resolve begun.
And thus my inward musings ran―
What graces youth and honors man?
How ived the great in days of old,
Whose fame to time by bards is told-
69

↓
畫
​70
Up to the Gods' renown and bliss
Raised by the blinded Heathenesse ?
By deeds that prove the hero's worth,
They cleared from monster broods the earth—
They sought the lion in his den—
They battled with the Minotaur—
Nor grudged to shed their blood for men,
And save from death one victim more.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Is but the Saracen to feel
(Has he such worth?)--the Christian's steel?
Are we to idols only brave?
Or is our mission earth to save-
From every ill, and every harın,
Freed by the Christian's stalwart arm?
Yet wisdom must his valor lead,
And sage device should force precede.'
Thus oft I mused, and went alone
The fell Devourer's tracks to spy;
I saw-and light upon me shone,
And Found, O Victory!' was my cry'
"Then, Prince, I sought thee with the prayer
To breathe once more my native air
The license given the ocean past-
I reached the shores of home at last.
Scarce hail'd the old beloved land,
Than huge, beneath the artist's hand,
To each well-mark'd dread feature true,
{
1
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THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON.
The Dragon's monster-model grew,
The dwarf'd, deformëd limbs upbore
The lengthened body's ponderous load;
The scales the impervious surface wore,
Like links of burnish'd harness, glow'd.
← Far stretch'd the grisly neck; and fell
As are the gaping gates of hell,
You might the horrent jaws survey,
Wide oped, as if to snatch their prey.
The black mouth's gloomy deeps disclose
Grim fangs that threat in bristling rows.
The tongue a sword sharp-pointed seeming-
The deep small eyes in sparkles gleaming.
Where the vast body ends, succeed
The serpent spires around it roll'd-
As if the rider and the steed
Alike in dreadful coils to fold.
All to the hideous life was true,
Ev'n to the gray and ghastly hue;
It stood half dragon and half snake,
As if spawn'd forth from poisonous lake.
And now began the mimic chase:
Two dogs I chose of noblest race,
That, fleet and fierce, ne'er turn'd before
The headlong rush of forest boar;
I train'd them on the shape to spring,
As on a living foe to fly,
71
Pattan vara ga
T

I
72
"
{
With fastening teeth to rend, and spring;—
And rous'd their rage with cheering cry.
"And where their gripe the best assails
The belly, left unsheath'd in scales,
I taught the dexterous hounds to hang,
And find the spot to fix the fang;
Whilst I, with lance and mailëd garb,
Lanch'd on the beast mine Arab barb.
From purest race that Arab came;
His fire my hand and voice inflame;
Beneath the sharp spur bounding fierce,
He fronts the beast in full career--
And there, as if the hide to pierce,
By turns I couch or hurl the spear.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Though when the Monster first it eyed,
It champ'd the bit and swerved aside,
Snorted and rear'd—and even they,
The fierce hounds, shrank with startled bay;
I ceased not, till, by custom bold,
After three tedious moons were told,
Both barb and hounds were train'd-nay, more,
Fierce for the fight;-then left the shore!
Three days have fleeted since I press'd
(Return'd at length) this welcome soil,
Nor once would lay my limbs to rest,
Till wrought the glorious crowning toil.
Type
It burn'd my heart within to know
New ravage done by that dread foe.
鼻
​
}
THE FIGHT WITH TIE DRAGON.
The bones of herdsmen, bleach'd and bare,
Lay round the hell-worm's swampy lair;-
Stung, on the sudden I depart,
Nor counsel take but from my heart;
And so my squires I call in speed,
Spring lightly on my proven steed,
Take my two gallant hounds, and by
Lone secret pathways gayly go,
To seek, unmark'd by human eye,
In its own deathful hold, the foe.
"Thow know'st the chapel glimmering o'er
The mountain rock, from ridges hoar;
Aloft it overlooks the isle-
Bold was the soul that built the pile.
Humble and mean, the sacred house
Contains a shrine miraculous-
Mother and Child, to whom of old
Came the Three Kings, we there behold.
By three times thirty steps must climb
The pilgrim to that steep abode,
To feel, in sudden strength sublime
Renewed, the Saviour's neighborhood.
Yawns wide within that holy steep
A mighty cavern dark and deep-
Damp with the marsh dews, dim and dun,
And never lit by heavenly sun;
And there by night, and there by day,
The worm unguest and greeding lay,
78
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SKRISTÁL

1
74
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
Ever at watch, in darkness screen'd
Under God's House,-like Hell's own fiend.
And when along that path of woe
The pilgrim came, upon the way
Forth from its ambush rushed the foe,
And down, devouring, dragg'd the prey.
"I stood upon that rocky hight
Ere yet I dar'd the dreadful fight-
Before the Infant Christ within
I knelt, and purg'd my heart from sin.
The mantle white on holy ground,
Above my coat of mail I bound.
In my right hand I grasp'd my spear,
Then downward strode with conscience clear;
There to my squires I gave the heed
To wait in refuge safe behind;
Nimbly I vaulted on my steed,
And unto God my soul consign'd
“The level plain before me lay—
Started the hounds with sudden bay—
Aghast the frighten'd charger slanting,
Refused the rein, and trembled, panting—
For curling there, in coilëd fold,
The Unutterable Beast behold,
Lazily basking in the sun!
Forth sprang the dogs. The fight 's begun.
But back the hounds, recoiling fast,
Before the jaws expanded fly,
EAN WAVE POLO mga uri satis dan but WA WAN
1

1
16
THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON
Scared by the reeking poison-blast,
And the howl'd dismal jackal cry.
But quickly cheered, again they go,
And fasten fiercely on the foe-
While full against the monster's hide
I lanch the spear-it slants aside
As harmless on the woven scale
As slender reed on coat of mail.
And ere I could renew the stroke
From rein and rule the charger broke-
That basilisk eye had spell'd the steed,
It felt the poisonous charnel breath—
Forsaken in my dreadest need,
Hope vanish'd, and I look'd on Death.
But light and quick to earth I leapt;
Swift from the sheath my falchion swept ;
Swift on that rock-like mail it plied—
The rock-like mail the sword defied:
The monster lash'd its mighty coil;
Down hurl'd, behold me on the soil.
O'er me the jaw's dark cavern hangs-
I feel the snap of those grim fangs,
When lo! the dogs-the flesh is found;
The scaleless parts their fury gain!
And the fell monster, writhing round,
Howls its immeasurable pain.
'No time to foil its fastening foes-
Light, as it writhed, I sprang, and rose
DRAMA. Jememeran 16, Pada kepadany
Gemeentence matte Paperga
75
KAN MACA CORSA TE VER

76
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The bare, unguarded place explor'd,-
And to the hilt I plunged the sword-
Up from the vitals sprang the blood,
Black-bubbling spouted forth the flood.
Then down it bore me in its fall;
Buried beneath that giant ball,
In dizzy swoon upon the ground
I lay till sense returns once more-
I see my squires that stand around,
And the dead dragon in its gore."
Then burst from every eager breast
The loud applause, so long supprest.
Scarcely the knight those words had spoke
Than, on the vaulted rafters broken,
Times ten re-echoing and ascending,
Came the vast shout of thousands blending
As loud, the knights their voices raise,
"His brows be crown'd with wreaths of bays
The crowd, in pomp, would lead him round.
From street to street his deed proclaim-
When the Grand Master sternly frown'd.
And calling silence, silence came.
And thus he spoke-" With valiant hand
Thou from the pest hast purged the land.
Let crowds their idol hail; in thee
A foe our Order can but see!
Thy breast has cherish'd to its bane
A worm more fell than Dragon slain-
S

•
THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON.
The snake that poisons hearts within,
And breeds dissension, strife, and sin.
That worm is WILL, superb and vain,
Which spurns at all restraints that bind—
Which sacred order rends in twain-
'Tis that which doth destroy mankind.
"The Turk from valor gains renown;
Obedience is the Christian's crown-
There, where from heaven descending, trod
In humblest guise the Saviour God,
Our fathers on that holy ground
Did first this knightly Order found,
That heaviest duty to fulfill,
By which we conquer strong self-will.
Our law thy thirst of glory broke-
Vain-glorious-from my sight depart.
Not he who scorns the Saviour's yoke
Should wear His cross upon the heart."
K
Then burst the angry roar of all,
As with a tempest shook the hall;
The noble Brethren plead for grace-
Mute stood the youth, with downward face;
Laid by the robe and sacred band,
And meekly kissed the Master's hand,
And went-the Master mark'd him part-
"Return," he cried, "and to my heart:
The harder fight of Christ is won:
Here, take this cross-meet prize for thee
R
77
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1
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78
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Thou hast battled with thyself, my son,
And conquered-through HUMILITY!"*
NOTE.
IN the poem just presented to the reader, Schiller designed, as be
wrote to Goethe, to depict the old Christian chivalry-hall knightly,
half monastic. The attempt is strikingly successful. Indeed, "The
Fight of the Dragon" appears to me the most spirited and nervous
of all Schiller's narrative poems, with the single exception of the
"Diver;" and if its interest be less intense than that of the match-
less "Diver," and its descriptions less poetically striking and
effective, its interior meaning or philosophical conception is at
once more profound and more elevated. In "The Fight of the
Dragon," is expressed the moral of that humility which consists
in self-conquest-evon merit may lead to vain-glory-and, after
vanquishing the fiercest enemies without, Man has still to contend
with his worst foe,-the pride or disobedience of his heart. "Every
one," as a recent critic has remarked, "has more or less his own
'fight with the Dragon'-his own double victory (without and within)
to achieve." The origin of this poem is to be found in the Annals of
the Order of Malta-and the details may be seen in Vertot's His-
tory. The date assigned to the conquest of the Dragon is 1842,
Helion de Villeneuve was the name of the Grand Master-that of
the Knight, Dieu-Donné de Gozon.. Thevenot declares that the
head of the monster (to whatever species it really belonged), or its
effigies, was still placed over one of the gates of the city in his time.
Dieu-Donne succeeded De Villeneuve as Grand Master, and on his
gravestone were inscribed the words "Draconis Exstinctor."
t
4
1
✰

+
!
DITHYRAMB.
DITHYRAM B.'
EVER, believe me,
Appear the Divinities,
Never alone.
NEVER
ז
Scarcely comes Bacchus, the joyous, unto me;
Than Cupid, the laughing child, hastens to woo me
And Phoebus his poet to own!
They come near and nearer,
Their numbers are swelling-
See! all the Celestials
Are filling my dwelling.
O guests!-heavenly chorus!
Say how can the earthborn
Regale ye as due ?-
Accord me, Immortals, the life that ye live!
To the Gods nothing worthy a mortal can give :
Take me up to Olympus with you,
The pleasures dwell only
In Jupiter's palace-
Oh, pour out the nectar,
Oh, reach me the chalice!
79
"Reach him the chalice,
Fill full to the Poet!
Oh, Hebe! brim high!
Steep his eyes in the dews of celestial delight.
And let Styx the abhorrent be shut from his sight;
Let him feel as a son of the sky.
****
;
S
f
I
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A
80
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
It murmurs, it sparkles,
The Fount of Delight;
From the heart falls the burden,
The scale from the sight.
1 This has been paraphrased by Coleridge.
THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN.
OH, nobly shone the fearful Cross upon your mail
afar,
When Rhodes and Acre hail'd your might, O lions of
the war!
When leading many a pilgrim horde, through wastes
of Syrian gloom;
Or standing with the Cherub's sword before the Holy
Tomb.
Yet on your forms the apron seem'd a nobler armor
far,
When by the sick man's bed ye stood, O lions of
the war!
When ye, the high-born, bow'd your pride to tend
the lowly weakness,
The duty, though it brought no fame,' fulfill'd by
Christian meekness-
Religion of the Cross, thou blend'st, as in a single
flower,
The twofold branches of the palm-HUMILITY AN,›
POWER.
The epithet in the first edition is ruhmlove.

1
THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR.
THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR;
OR, FROM ABROAD.
WI
ITHIN a vale, cach infant year,
When earliest larks first carol'd free,
To humble shepherds did appear
A wondrous maiden, fair to see.
Not born within that lowly place—
From whence she wander'd, none could tell;
Her parting footsteps left no trace,
When once the maiden sighed farewell.
And blessed was her presence there-
Each heart, expanding, grew more gay ;
Yet something loftier still than fair
Kept man's familiar looks away.
From fairy gardens, known to none,
She brought mysterious fruits and flowers—
The things of some serener sun-
Some Nature more benign than ours.
With each her gifts the maiden shared—
To some the fruits, the flowers to some;
Alike the young, the aged fared ;
Each bore a blessing back to home.
Though every guest was welcome there,
For some she hoarded blooms the sweeter,
And from her gifts she cull'd the best,
Whene'er two lovers came to greet her.
}
81
NOTE--It seems generally agreed that POETRY is allegorized in the se
stanzas.
Plant

CAND.
82
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD.
THIS Poem is one of those in which Schiller has traced the progress
of Civilization, and to which the Germans have given the name of
Cultaro-Historic.
BRIGHT-PURPLING the glass glows the blush
of the wine-
Bright sparkle the eyes of each guest;
But see where there enters the Poet divine,
And brings to the good what is best.
Ev'n Olympus were mean, with its nectar and all,
If the shell were not heard in the heavenly hall.
The gods give the Poet a spirit serene,
To be as the glass of the world!
Whate'er has been done on this earth he has seen,
And the future to him is unfurl'd
He sate with the gods in the councils of eld,
And all things in their primitive seeds he behold.'
The woof of this life, to the death from the birth,
He unfolds in the pomp of its hues;
And to deck, like a temple, the dwelling of earth,
Is a gift that he takes from the Muse.
No roof is so humble-no cabin so small-
But a heaven full of gods will descend at his call.
As the artist inventive, whose birth was from Jove,¹
In one type all creation revealed,

}
THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD.
When the ocean, the earth, and the star-realm
above,
83
Lay compressed in the orb of a shield,
So on sound he can image the thought of his soul—
And impress on the moment, the infinite whole."
Blithe pilgrim! his footsteps have passed in their
way,
Every time, every far generation:
He comes from the age when the Earth was at play
In the childhood and bloom of Creation.
Four Ages of men have decayed to his eye,
And fresh to the Fifth he glides youthfully by.
King Saturn first ruled us, the simple and true-
Each day as each yesterday fair:
No grief and no guile the calm shepherd-race.
knew-
Their life was the absence of care;
They loved, and to love was the whole of their
task-
Kind earth upon all lavished all they could ask.
Made
Then the LABOR arose, and the demi-god man
Went the monster and dragon to seek;
And the age of the hero, the ruler, began,
And the strong were the stay of the weak.
There was strife on Scamander; but still through
its rage
Reigned the Beautiful;-god of the earth in each
age.
ZAM

84
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Gentler days, when on strife followed conquest.
were given,
And mildness the flower of might,
From the young choral Nine came the sounds of
the Heaven,
Whose images rose on the sight.
The age of sweet Phantasy, godlike—and o'er!
Vanished hence, vanished hence, to return never
more '
From their thrones in the heav'n sunk the gods;
and down hurl'd
Into dust lay their columns forlorn;
And to heal and atone for the sins of the world-
The Son of the Virgin was born.
And, the light fleeting joys of the senses supprest,
Man seizing on THOUGHT, grasp'd it firm to his
breast.
P
Ever gone were those charms, the voluptuous and
vain,
Which had decked the young world with delight;
For the monk and the nun were the penance and
pain,
And the tilt for the iron-clad knight.
Yet, however that life might be darksome and wild
Love lingered with looks still as lovely and mild:
And still, by one altar they guarded unstain'd,
The Muses, though silently, stood

}
THE FOUR AGES OF THE WORLD.
For still the meek bosom of woman retain'd
The rites of the noble and good.
And woman, in truth, was the gentle song-bringer,
And its flame flash'd anew from the sweet Minne-
singer.
Gently thus, then, let woman and minstrel unite;
Hand in hand be the bond, never ending:
They work, and they weave, in a zone of delight,
The Good and the Beautiful blending!
Ah! asunder from love, song can never be torn,
And their union to life still preserveth the morn.
1" Then sing of secret things that came to pass
When beldam Nature in her cradle was."
MILTON: Vacation Exercise.
85
2 Vulcan. The allusion, which is cxquisitely beautiful, is to the
shield of Achilles.-IIOMER, Iliad, i., 18:-
"There Earth, thero Heaven, there Occan ho designed."-POPE.
8 This line is obscure, not only in tho translation, but in the original.
Schiller means to say that the Poet is the truo generalizer of the Infl-
nite-a position which he himself practically illustrates, by condensing,
in the few verses that follow, the whole history of the world. Thus,
too, Homer is the condenser of the whole heroic age of Greece. In
the Prologue to Wallenstein, the same expressions, with little altera-
tion, are employed to convey the perishable naturo of the Actor's
art.
4"Der Mensch griff denkend in scino Brust,'
i. e., Man strove by reflection to apprehend the phenomena of his own
being the principles of his own nature. The development of the
philosophical, as distinguished from the natural consciousness, forms
a very important era in the history of civilization. It is, in fact, the
great turning-point of humanity, both individually and historically.
Griff, Begriff-has a peculiar logical significanco in German.
7
19
KAMANDA MENEN * Bng đ
"
*
Konf

ANSPORT VEND, FORM AND DONELARIA AZEY ARE
AKKSZER a beaut
BARAZA NASSUNG, DIED.
86
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT.
THE first two Stanzas of this Poem are sung by Thekla, in the
third Act of the Piccolomini,
THE
HE oak-wood is roaring,
The clouds gather o'er;
There sitteth a maiden
Beside the green shore;
The breakers are dashing with might, with might.
And she sighs out aloud in the gloomy night,
And weeping, thus waileth she—--
"L
My heart it is broken,
The world is a void,
Nothing more can it give me,
For hope is destroyed.
All the bliss that the earth can bestow I have
proved;
Heavenly Father-Oh! take,-I have lived-I have
loved-
Oh! take back thy child to thee."
"The tears that thou weepest
Must vainly be shed;
For no sorrow awakens
The sleep of the Dead!
Yet say what can solace and comfort the breast,
When it mourns for the love by which once it was
blest,
And the balm shall descend from above."
+

THE CHILD IN THE CRADLE.
"Let the tears I am weeping
Still vainly be shed,
Though my sorrow can wake not
The sleep of the Dead;
Yet all that can solace and comfort the breast.
When it mourns for the love by which once it was
blest,
Are the tears and the sorrows of love."
THE CHILD IN THE CRADLE.
87
BLEST
Grow man, and narrower than this bed the bound-
less world shall be !'
babe! a boundless world this bed, so
narrow, seems to thee.
This epigram has a considerable resemblance to the epitaph on
Alexander the Great:
"Sufficit huic Tumulus, cui non suffecerat orbis:
Res brevis huic ampla est, cui fuit ampla brevis."
"A little tomb sufficeth him whom not sufficed all:
The small is now as great to him as once the great was small."
Vide BLACKWOOD'S MAGAZINE, April, 1888, p. 556.
G
88
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE VAILED IMAGE AT SAIS.
A
YOUTH, athirst for knowledge, (hot desire.)
To Sais came, intent to explore the dark
And hoarded wisdom of Egyptian priests.
Through many a grade of mystery, hurrying on,
Far, and more far, still pressed the inquiring soul,
And scarce the Hierophant could cool or calm
The studious fever of impatient toil.
j
"What," he exclaimed, "is worth a part of Truth?
What is my gain unless I gain the whole?
Has knowledge, then, a lesser or a more?
Is this, thy Truth,-like sensual, gross enjoyment,
A sum doled out to each in all degrees,
Larger or smaller, multiplied or minished?
Is not TRUTH one and indivisible?
Take from the Harmony a single tone-
A single tint take from the Iris bow,
And lo! what once was all, is nothing-while
Fails to the lovely whole one tint or tono!"
Now, while they thus conversed, they stood within
A lonely temple, circle-shaped, and still;
And, as the young man paused abrupt, his gaze
Upon a vail'd and giant IMAGE fell:
Amazed he turn'd unto his guide-" And what
Beneath the vail stands shrouded yonder ?”’
"TRUTH,"
Answered the Priest
..

SALATALAR SA

THE VAILED IMAGE AT SAI3.
"And do I, then, for Truth
Strive, and alone? And is it now by this
Thin ceremonial robe that Truth is hid?
Wherefore ?"
"That wherefore with the Goddess rests;
'T.LI'-thus saith the Goddess-' lift this vail,
May it be raised by none of mortal-born!
He who with guilty and unhallowed hand
Too soon profanes the Holy and Forbidden-
He,' says the Goddess".
89
"Well ?"
"HE-SHALL SEE TRUTH! 99
"A rare, strange oracle! And hast thou never
Lifted the vail ?"
"No! nor desired to raise !”
"What! nor desired? Were I shut out from Truth
By this slight barrier"—" And Command divine,"
Broke on his speech the guide. “Far weightier.
son,
This airy gauze than thy conjectures deem—
Light to the touch-lead-heavy to the conscience!"*
The young man, thoughtful, turn'd him to his
home,
And the fierce fever of the Wish to Know
Robb'd night of sleep. Upon his couch he roll'd;—
At midnight rose resolved-Unto the shrine'
Timorously stole the involuntary step-
But light the bound that scaled the holy wall.
you

1
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​90
And dauntless was the spring that bore within
That circle's solemn dome the daring man.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Now halts he where the lifeless Silence sleeps
In the embrace of mournful Solitude ;-
Silence unstirred,-save by the hollow echo
Answering his tread along mysterious vaults!
High from the opening of the dome above,
Came the wan shining of the silver moon.
And, awful as some pale presiding god,
Glistening adown the range of vaults obscure,
In its long vail concealed the Image stood.
play.
With an unsteady step he onward past,
Already touched with violating hand
The Holy-and recoil'd! A shudder thrilled
His limbs, fire-hot and icy-cold by turns,
And an invisible arm did seem to pluck him
Back from the deed.-"O miserable man!
What would'st thou ?" (Thus within the inmost
heart
Murmured the warning whisper.)
"Wilt thou dare
The All-hallowed to profane? May mortal-born
(So spake the oracular word) not lift the vail
Till I myself shall raise!" Yet said it not,
The same oracular word-Who lifts the vail,
He shall see Truth?' Behind, be what there may,
I dare the hazard-I will lift the vail-"
Loud rang his shouting voice-" and I will see!"
"SEE!"'

te
HONORS.
A lengthened echo, mocking, shrilled again!
He spoke and raised the vail! And ask ye what
Unto the gaze was there within revealed?
know not. Pale and senseless, at the foot
Of the dread statue of Egyptian Isis,
The priests beheld him at the dawn of day;
But what he saw, or what did there befall,
His lips disclosed not. Ever from his heart
Was fled the sweet serenity of life,
And the deep anguish dug the early grave:
"Woe-woe to him"-such were his warning
words,
..
Answering some curious and impetuous brain,
Woe-for she never shall delight him more!
Woe-woe to him who treads through Guilt to
TRUTH!"
91
HONORS.
1
PROBABI Y intended to apply to titles inherited or obtained with-
out personal merit.
A
S light its column on the clear brook glasses,
The golden track seems of itself to glow;
Yet wave on wave adown the pathway passes,
Each pressing each, and all as fleetly flow:
So on the mortal Honors glass their light;
The Place he moves through, not Himself is bright
1
2
¿
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}
92
•
"
*
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
* * ******

THE RING OF POLYCRATES:
A BALLAD.
PON his battlements he stands;
UPON
Look'd down on Samos-seas and lands-
And turned unto his guest;
And all," he said, "that we survey,
Egyptian king, my power obey-
Dost thou not call me blest ?"
"To thee the gods have favor shown,
And they who were thine equals own
Thy sceptered sovereignty!
Yet one there lives to avenge the rest,
Nor can my lips pronounce thee blest,
Watched by a foeman's eye.”
He spoke, and from Miletus sent,
Behold, a herald came, and bent
Before the tyrant there.
"Let incense smoke upon the shrine,
And with the lively laurel twine,
Victor, thy godlike hair!
"Smit by the spear the foeman fell;
I come, the joyful news to tell,
From thy true Polydore."
And from the grisly bowl he drew
(Grim sight they well might start to view!)
A head that dripped with gore.
1
M
1
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THE RING OF POLYCRATES.
The Egyptian king recoiled in fear,
"Deem not from cloud thy fortune clear--
Bethink thee yet,” he cried,
Thy Fleets are on the faithless seas;
Thy Fortune trembles in the breeze,
And floats upon the tide."
+4
Ere yet the warning ceased-aloud
Shouts from the joyous clamoring crowd-
It shouts from coast to street!
Laden from far with costliest stores,
Majestic come to homeward shores,
The Forests of the Fleet.
Astounded stood that kingly guest,
"This day, in truth, thou seemest blest,
Yet trust in Fate forbear!
New perils yet assail thy fleet-
Behold the flags and ships of Crete-
And lo, thy shores they near!"
K
Scarce spoke the Egyptian king-before
Hark, "Victory-Victory!" from the shore,
And from the seas, ascended;
"Escaped the doom that round us lowered,
Swift storm the Cretan has devoured,
And war itself is ended!"
Then shuddering, faltered forth the guest,
To-day I must pronounce thee blest.
Yet more thy doom I dread-
93
7

hingga ke
VUKAZAKKOL
TUOSOMESQUEA
94
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
The Gods oft grudge what they have given,
And ne'er unmixed with grief has Heaven
Its joys on mortals shed!
"No less than thine my rule has thriven,
And o'er each deed the gracious heaven
Has, favoring, smiled as yet.
But one beloved heir had I-
God took him!-I beheld him die,
His life paid fortune's debt.
Ka
“Sɔ, would'st thou 'scape the coming ill—
Implore the dread Invisible
Thy sweets themselves to sour!
Well ends his life, believe me, never,
On whom, with hands thus full forever,
The Gods their bounty shower.
"And if thy prayer the Gods can gain not,
This counsel of thy friend disdain not-
Invoke Adversity!
And what of all thy worldly gear
Thy deepest heart esteems most dear.
Cast into yonder sea!"
The Samian thrill'd to hear the king-
"No gems so rich as deck this ring,
The wealth of Samos gave:
By this- may the Fatal Three
My blissful fortunes pardon me !”—
He cast it on the wave.
:
VĒŠ
PATS BENZENTREN NOTIZIE
P

1
J
THE RING OF POLYCRATES.
And when the morrow's dawn began,
All joyous came a fisherman
Before the prince.-Quoth he,
• Behold this fish-a prize so rare
As never net till now did snare-
I bring my gift to thee !”
The cook to dress the fish begun—
The cook ran fast as cook could run-
Look, look! O master mine-
The ring the ring the sea did win,
I found the fish's maw within—
Was ever luck like thine !"
Kapak
In horror turns the kingly guest-
"Then longer here I may not rest,
I'll have no friend in thee!
:
The Gods have marked thee for their prey,
To share thy doom I dare not stay!"
He spoke and put to sea.
95
}
NOTE. This story is taken from the well-known correspondence
between Amasis and Polycrates, in the third book of Herodotus.
Polycrates-one of the ablest of that most able race, the Greek
tyrants-was afterward decoyed into the power of Orates, gov
ernor of Sardis, and died on the cross. Herodotus informs us, that
the ring Polycrates so prized was an emerald set in gold, the
workmanship of Theodorus the Samian.
affirms it to have been a sardonyx, and in his time it was supposed
still to exist among the treasures in the Temple of Concord. It is
worth while to turn to Herodotus, (c. 40-48, book 8,) to notice the
admirable art with which Schiller has adapted the narrative, and
hightened its effect.
Pliny, on the contrary,

96
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE IMMUTABLE.
OREVER haltless hurries Time, the Durable to
FOREVER
gain.
Be true, and thou shalt fetter Time with everlasting
chain.
HOPE
WE speak with the lip, and we dream in the soul.
Of some better and fairer day,
Forever beheld on our race to a goal
Shining golden afar on the way.
Through age and through youth goes the world,
yet befall
What there may, still doth Man hope The Better in
all.
Sweet guide into life that his destiny grants,
Hope hovers glad infancy o'er ;
She shines on the youth with the light that en
chants-
On the old with the smiles that restore;
And his eyes, as they close, still the charnel can
brave,
And, weary of life, he plants Hope on the grave.

THE PHILOSOPHICAL EGOIST.
97
It is not a smiling delusion that shames;
Nor a folly that Reason should scorn;
'Tis the voice of the heart which so loudly pro-
claims,
That we for the better were born.
And that which the inner voice bids us believe
Can never the Hope of a Spirit deceive
THE PHILOSOPHICAL EGOIST.
HAS
AST thou the infant marked that yet, unknow-
ing of the love
Which warms and cradles, calmly sleeps the moth-
er's heart above-
Wandering from arm to arm, until loud youth doth
passion wake.
And, glimmering on the conscious eye, the world in
glory break?-
And hast thou seen the mother there her anxious
vigil keep,
Buying with love that never sleeps the darling's
happy sleep?
With her own life she fans and feeds that weak
life's trembling rays,
And with the sweetness of the care, the care itself
repays
.
1
98
And dost thou Nature then blaspheme, that both
the child and mother
Each unto each unites, the while the one doth need
the other?-
A
}"

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
All self-sufficing wilt thou from that lovely circle
stand-
That creature still to creature links in close famil-
iar band?
Ah! dar'st thou, poor one, from the rest thy lonely
self estrange?
THE SEXES.
Eternal Power itself is but all powers in inter-
change!
SEE
NEE in the babe two loveliest flowers, united-for,
in truth,
While in the bud they seem the same-the virgin
and the youth.
But gently loosened is the bond, no longer side by
side-
From modest Shame the fiery Strength will soon it-
self divide.
Permit the youth to sport, and still the wild desire
to chase,
For, but when sated, weary Strength returns to seek
the Grace.
4

?
1
99
Out from the bud, the double flowers the future
strife begin,
How precious each-yet neither stills the longing
heart within.
Ir ripening charms the virgin bloom to woman shape
hath grown,
THE SEXES.
But pride doth watch the ripening charms, and guard
them like a zone;
Shy, as before the hunter's horn the doe all trembling
moves,
She flies from man as from a foe, and hates ere yet
she loves!
From lowering brows this struggling world the fear-
less youth observes,
And, harden'd for the strife betimes, he strains the
willing nerves ;
Far to the throng of spears and to the race prepared
to start,
Urged by alluring glory on, and his own stormy
heart:
ww
Protect thy work, O Nature, now! one from the
other flies,
Till thou unitest each at last that for the other
sighs.
There art thou, Mighty One! where'er the discord.
darkest frown,
Thou callest peaceful Harmony, the godlike soothe::
down.
}}
•..•

I
I
:
3
100
The noisy chase is lulled asleep, day's clamor dies
afar.
And gently into nightly rest sinks each returning
star.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHULLER,
1
Soft sigh the reeds, and, murmuring soft, the brook-
let glides along,
And all the wood the nightingale melodious fills with
song.
O virgin! now what instinct heaves thy bosom with
the sigh?
O youth and wherefore steals the tear into thy
dreaming eye?
She seeks in vain the something now round which
to gently twine,
With its own weight the ripening fruit doth down to
earth incline,
And restless strives the youth against his own con-
suming fire;
Ah, where the gentle breath to cool the flame of
young desire!
And now they meet-together Love has brought and
joined the two,
And fast as flies the wingèd god, doth victory still
pursue.
O heavenly Love!-'tis thy sweet task the human
flowers to bind,
Divided ever-yet by thee forever intertwined?
ئے
}
1

1
POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM.
101
POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM.
WHAT wonder this ?—we ask the limpid well,
T
O Earth, of thee !-and from thy solemn womb
What yield'st thou? Is there life in the abyss ?-
Hath a new race (concealed till now) its home
Under the lava ?-Doth the Past return ?-
O Greeks-O Romans!-Come!—Behold, again
Rises the old Pompeii, and rebuilt
The long-lost town of Dorian Hercules!
House upon house!-The spacious portico
Opens its halls! On, haste and fill with life
The void?-Wide open, too, before us spreads
The ample theater! Recall the crowd;
Through the seven mouths let the great audience
stream!
Where are ye, mimes? Come forth! Let crown'd
Atrides
Complete the sacrifice! Avenging Furies
Chase mad Orestes, chanting ghastly hymns!
But see!—the Arch of Triumph stands before us.
Whither to lead? We pass, and gain the Forum.
What shapes are seated on the curule chair?
Lictors, advance the fasces! Place the Prætor
On his judicial throne. Now call the witness,
And let the accuser open with his charge.
On stretch the clean, clear streets, with narrow
path
Commodious raised, and neighboring silent doors
i
४
?
•
102
1

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Under projecting roofs; and all around
The desolate Atrium, cordial and familiar
With Home's still smile, the graceful chambers
spread.
Open the shops, and every long-closed entry ;—
On dreary night let lusty sunshine fall.
See the trim benches ranged in order! See
The rich designs of tesselated floors,
And from the walls still freshly glitter out
The glowing colors. But the artist where?
Sure but this instant he hath laid aside
Pencil and pallet !-With elaborate flowers
And swelling fruits the lively, rich festoon
Borders and frames the charming images.
Here with heap'd basket steals a Cupid by,
There Genii press with purpling feet the grapes;
Here dancing springs the wild Bacchante, there
Fatigued she slumbers, while the listening Faun
Watches her sleep with never-sated eyes;
Now on the Centaur with one knee she rests,
And with light Thyrsus goads him, bounding on.
A M
Slaves, here! why loiter yo?-Neglected stand
The goodly vessels! Hither, O
Hither, O ye handmaids!
And fill the Etruscan urn! How gracefully
On the wing'd sphinges does the tripod rest!
Stir up the fire; the hospitable hearth
Prepare! Go to the market-take these coins,
'Fresh from the mintage of imperial Titus;
[

!
CART
POMPEII AND HERCULANEUM.
103
And-stay, the scales; look, not a weight is lost.
Now light the branches (with what delicate art
Fashioned !) and feed with lucent oil the lamp.
What holds this casket? Maiden, come and see
The gifts the bridegroom sends thee Golden
armlets,
I
And glittering trinkets-feigning gems in paste!
Into the fragrant bath conduct the bride;
Here are the unguents, and the artful blooms
For Beauty, still the hollow'd crystal hoards.
But where the men of old?-the Ancients where?
A costlier treasure yet do serious archives
Store in the still Museum. Look! the stylus,
And here the waxen tablets-naught is lost.
The earth, with faithful watch, has guarded all!
Still the Penates stand. Back every God
Comes to his haunts: why absent but the Priests ?
Lo! his Caduceus light-wing'd Hermes waves,
And Victory soars, escaping from his hand.
There are the Altars. Quick, O quick! and kindle-
(Long has the God without his incense been),
Kindle the votive sacrificial flame!
magandarījums PEKO A
'
104
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE YOUTH BY THE BROOK.
SUNG in The Parasite, a comedy which Schiller translated from
Picard-much the best comedy, by-the-way, that Picard ever wrote
BESI
ESIDE the brook the Boy reclined
And wove his flowery wreath,
And to the waves the wreath consigned-
The waves that danced beneath.
“So fleet mine hours," he sigh'd, "away
Like waves that restless flow:
And, so my flowers of youth decay,
Like those that float below.
·
Oh, ask not why I mourn and grieve
In youth's fair blooming time;
All life doth hope and joy receive
With spring's returning prime.
The voices that with Nature wake
In thousand hymns of glee,
But rouse the happy world, to make
My heart more sad to me.
Alas! in vain the joys that break
From Spring voluptuous, are ;
For only ONE 'tis mine to seek—
The Near, yet ever Far!
I stretch my arms, that shadow shape
In fond embrace to hold;
Still doth the shade the clasp escape-
The heart is unconsoled!
¿


{
}
FRIDOLIN.
"Come forth, fair Friend, come forth below,
And leave thy lofty hall;
The fairest flowers the spring can know
In thy dear lap shall fall!
Clear glides the brook in silver roll'd,
Sweet carols fill the air;
The meanest hut hath space to hold
A happy, loving Pair!"
FRIDOLIN;
OR, THE MESSAGE TO THE FORGE.
SONILLER, speaking of this Ballad, which he had then nearly con-
cluded, says that "accident had suggested to him a very pretty
theme for a Ballad;" and that "after having travelled through air
and water, alluding to "The Cranes of Ibycus" and "The Diver,"
"he should now claim to himself the Element of Fire." Hoffmeister
supposes from the name of Savern, the French orthography for
Zabern, a town in Alsatia, that Schiller took the material for his
tale from a French source, though there are German Legends anala-
gous to it.
The general style of the Ballad is simple almost to
homeliness, though not to the puerility affected by some of our own
Ballad-writers. But the pictures of the Forge and the Catholic Rit-
nal are worked out with singular force and truthfulness.
A
HARMLESS lad was Fridolin,
A pious youth was he;
He served, and sought her grace to win,
Count Saveru's fair lady;
105
And gentle was the Dame as fair,
And light the toils of service there,
量
​
Penkunde, dia, de
106 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And yet the woman's wildest whim
In her had been but joy to him.
Mga
Soon as the early morning shone,
Until the vesper-bell,
For her sweet hest he lived alone,
Nor e'er could serve too well.
She bade him oft not labor so:
And then his eyes would overflow—
For how could aught as toil appear,
Which served the one to him so dear!
And so of all her House, the Dame
Most favored him always;
And from her lip forever came
His unexhausted praise.
On him, more like some gentle child,
Than serving-youth, the lady smiled.
And took a harmless pleasure in
The comely looks of Fridolin.
The Huntsman, Robert, long beheld
The favor thus confest,
And poisonous envy, gathering, swell'd
His dark, malignant breast.
His Lord was rash of thought and deed,
A man whom guile might well mislead;
And thus, as from the chase they rode,
Suspicion's seed the traitor sowed:
(Na) je tada mas
KRAŠENE
GOOSE

..
Happy art thou, my Lord, in truth,”
The crafty knave did say ;
"Your golden sheep no venom'd tooth
Of Doubt doth gnaw away.
Your noble lady is secure
In virtuous shame-that girdle pure;
Her faith no snares from thee could gain,
The smooth seducer woos in vain."
FRIDOLIN.
"How now!-bold man, what sayest thou?'
The frowning Count replied-
"Think'st thou I build on woman's vow,
Unstable as the tide?
"L
Soft to her ear doth flattery sound ;-
I rest my faith on firmer ground;
The Count Von Savern's wife unto
No smooth seducer comes to woo!"
Right!"-quoth the other" and your scorn
Enough the fool chastises,
Who, though a simple vassel born,
Himself so highly prizes;
Who buoys his heart with rash desires,
And to the Dame he serves-aspires."
"How!" cried the Count, and trembled-"How
Of One who lives, then, speakest thou ?"
107
"Surely; can that to all revealed
Be all unknown to you?
Yet, from your ear if thus concealed
Let me withhold it too."
CLIPART 2 pugte att man kunder
SE
}

}
108 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Out burst the Count, with gasping breath—
“Fool—fool !—thou speak'st the words of death!
What brain has dared so bold a sin?"
"My Lord. I spoke of-Fridolin!
+6
His face is comely to behold”
He adds, with deadly art.
The Count grew hot-the Count grew cold-
The words had pierced his heart.
My gracious master sure must see
That only in her eyes lives he;
Behind your board he stands unheeding,
Close by her chair-his passion feeding.
“And then the rhymes."-"The rhymes!".
same-
Confessed the frantic thought."
Confessed!"-" Ay, and a mutual flame
The shameless knave besought!
All this my lady, soft and meek,
Might well from pity shun to speak;
Nor should my words have vex'd your ear--
What has my lord the Count to fear?"
Straight to a wood, in wrath and shame,
Away Count Savern rode-
Where, in the neighboring furnace-flame,
The molten iron glowed.
Hore, late and early, still the brand
Kindled the smiths, with crafty hand;
>
." The
J
|
}
FRIDOLIN.
The bellows heave, the sparkles fly,
As if to melt¹ the rocks on high.
}

Their strength the Fire, the Water gave,
In interleagued exdeavor;
The mill-wheci, grappled by the wave,
Rollsound for aye and ever-
Pe clattering works clang night and day,
While down the hammer times its way,
And, suppled in that mighty storm,
Iron to iron stamps a form.
Two smiths before Count Savern bend,
Forth-beckoned from their task:
“The first whom I to you may send,
And who of you may ask-
'Have you my lord's command obeyed?'
-Thrust in the hell-fire yonder made;
Shrunk to the cinders of your ore,
Let him offend mine eyes no more!”
Then gloated they-the inhuman pair-
They felt the hangman's zest;
For senseless as the iron there,
The heart in either breast.
And hied they, with the bellows' breath,
To strengthen still the furnace-death;
The murder-priests nor fag nor falter—
Wait the victim-trim the altar!
162
1
8

+
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The huntsman seeks the page-God wot,
How smooth a face hath he!
"Off, comrade, off nd tarry not;
Thy lord hath need of thee
Thus spoke his lord to Fridolin
Ilaste to the forge the wood within,
And ask the serfs who ply the trade
Have you my lord's command obeyed
•
It shall be done," and yet the task
One duty doth delay;
Had she no hest?-'twere well to ask.
To make less long the way.
Before the lady now he stands-
M
To seek the forge my lord commands;
But, ere I go, I come to thee:
Hast thou no orders, too, for me?"
The gentle dame replied, "Alas!”
(Her voice was soft and mild),
I fain would hear the holy mass;
Sore ailing lies my child.
Go thou, instead, and kneeling there,
Utter for me thy humble prayer;
Repent each sinful thought of thine-
Sc shall thy soul find grace for mine "
And now, with footstep fleet and fast,
Along the path he hies.
The hamlet now is nearly past,
When hark! what sounds arise?
1
SILICETTARILLAATSELIN

7
FRIDOLIN.
Swinging aloft with solemn swell,
Clear from the church-tower clangs the bell,
Knolling souls that would repent
To the Holy Sacrament.
• If God is found upon the way,
Thou must not pass him by!"
He stepped into the church to pray-
But all stood silently.
It was the Harvest's merry reign,
The scythe was busy in the grain;
And not a chorister was there,
The mass to serve the rites to share.
The impulse to his heart is given,
As sacristan to be:
"Whate'er promotes thy service, Heaven,
Is not delay," said he.
So, on the priest, with humble soul,
He hung the cingulum and stole,
And nimbly ranged each holy thing
To the high mass administ'ring.
To aid the priest (these duties o'er),
As ministrant, he stands :
Now, bowed the altar shrine before,
The mass-book in his hands.
Rightward, leftward kneeleth he,
Watchful every sign to see,
111
ART.........

ܝܼܹܼܼܵܵܿܵ
ܐ
ܐ
ܘܢܐܕܨ
1
I
-
112
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Tinkling, as the sanctus fell,
Thrice at the holy name, the bell.
Now the meek priest, bending lowly,
Turns unto the shrine,
And with lifted hand and holy,
Rears the cross divine.
While the clear bell, lightly swinging,
That boy-sacristan is ringing ;—
All then present, down inclining,
Strike their breasts, the symbol signing.
Still in every point excelling,
With a quick and nimble art—
Every custom in that dwelling
Knew the boy by heart!
To the close he tarried thus,
Till Vobiscum Dominus ;
Till the blessing of the priest,-
Till the holy service ceased!
Each thing in order, as before,
His pious hands array,
Asperge the shrine; and then once more
He takes his cheerful way.
Lightly-with conscience calm he goes;
Before his steps the furnace glows;
His lips, the while (the count completing)
Twelve paternosters slow-repeating.
1
#

FRIDOLIN.
He gained the forge-the smiths surveyed,
As there they grimly stand:
"How fares it, friends ?-Have ye obeyed,"
He cried, "my lord's command ?”
..
Ho! ho!" they shout, with ghastly grin,
And point the furnace-throat within :
“He's caught and cared for-go thy ways:
Well shall the Count his servants praise."
On, with this answer, onward home,
With fleeter step he flies;
But when the Count beheld him come-
He scarce could trust his eyes.
"Whence com'st thou ?"- -"From the furncae."
"So!
Not elsewhere? troth, thy steps are slow!
Thou hast loitered long !"-"Yet only till
My dame's command I did fulfil.
"For, pardon-but to her, to-day,
I went on quitting thee,
To ask if aught, upon the way,
She might intrust to me.
She bade me halt the mass to hear,
Sweet order to thy servant's ear;
Rosaries four I told, delaying,
For you both the Saviour praying."
113
All stunn'd, Count Savern heard the speech-
A wondering man was he;
{
}

114
*
"
gran take angler Jr Warran
"And when thou didst the furnace reach,
What answer gave they thee?"
They answered dark, with ghastly grin,
Pointing the furnace-throat within,
'He's caught and cared for-go thy ways:
Well shall the Count his servants praise.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
1
“And Robert?"—gasped the Count, as lost
In awe, he shuddering stood—
"Thou must, be sure, his path have cross'd-
I sent him to the wood."
999
"In wood nor field where I have been,
No single trace of him was seen.”
All deathlike stood the Count: " Thy might,
O God of heaven, hath judged the right ""
Then meekly, humbled from his pride,
He took the servant's hand;
S
Literally to glaze, vitrify (verglasen).
He led him to his lady's side,
She naught could understand.
This child—no angel is more pure—
Long may thy grace for him endure;
Our strength how weak, our sense how dim-
GOD AND HIS HOSTS ARE OVER HIM!"
|
J
-', a
*

PHILOSOPHERS.
PHILOSOPHERS
про
O learn what gives to every thing
The form and life which we survey,
The law by which the Eternal King
Moves all Creation's ordered ring,
And keeps it from decay-
When to great Doctor Wiseman we go-
If helped not out by Fichte's Ego-
All from his brain that we can delve,
Is this sage answer-" Ten's not Twelve."
The snow can chill, the fire can burn,
Men when they walk on two feet go;—
A sun in Heaven all eyes discern-
This through the senses we may learn
Nor go to school to know!
But the profounder student sees,
That that which burns-will seldom freeze,
And can instruct the astonished hearer,
How moisture moistens-light makes clearer.
Homer composed his mighty song,
The hero danger dared to scorn,
The brave man did his duty, long
Before (and who shall say I'm wrong?)—
Philosophers were born!
Without Descartes and Locke-the Sun
Saw things by Heart and Genius done,
115
ƒ
116
1

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Which those great men have proved, on viewing,
The possibility of doing!
Strength in this life prevails and sways-
Bold Power oppresses humble Worth-
He who cannot command obeys-
In short, there's not too much to praise
In this poor orb of earth.
But how things better might be done,
If sages had this world begun,
By moral systems of their own,
Most incontestably is shown!
Man needs mankind, must be confest-
In all he labors to fulfill,
Must work, or with, or for the rest;
'Tis drops that swell the ocean's breast-
'Tis waves that turn the mill.
The savage life for man unfit is,
So take a wife and live in cities."
Thus ex cathedra teach, we know,
Wise Messieurs Puffendorf and Co.
Yet since, what grave professors preach,
The crowd may be excused from knowing
Meanwhile, old Nature looks to each,
Tinkers the chain, and mends the breach,
And keeps the clockwork going.
Some day, Philosophy, no doubt,
A better World will bring about,
мало
1 There
{
KALAMA
&
1
PHILOSOPHERS.
Till then the Old a little longer,
Must blander on-through Love and Hunger!
1 "Wenn Ich nicht drauf ihm helfe
Er heisst; zehn ist nicht zwölfe."
117
If the Ich in the text is correctly printed with a capital initial
the intention of Schiller must apparently be to ridicule the absolute
Ego of Fichte-a philosopher whom he elsewhere treats with very lit-
tle ceremony-and thus Hoffmeister seems to interpret the meaning.
Hinrichs, on the other hand, quoting the passage without the capital
initial, assumes the satire to be directed against the first great law
of logic, which logicians call the Principle of Contradiction, viz., that
it is impossible for a thing to be and not to be at the same time; or,
as Schiller expresses it, that it is impossible for ten to be both ten
and twelve; a truth which is obvious to all men, and which, pre-
cisely because it is obvious to all men, Philosophers can state and
explain. According to this latter interpretation, the sense is not
correctly given in the translation, and Schiller seems rather to say,
"I should call that man exceedingly clever who could explain to me
the great law of the Universe, if I did not first explain it to him by
saying it is this, Ten is not Twelve-i. e., No philosopher can tell a
plain man any thing about a profound principle, which any plain man
could not just as well have told to the Philosopher."
1736
4
J

34

118
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
TO THE IDEALS.
To appreciate the beauty of this Poem, the reader must remember
that it preceded our own School,-we will not say of Egotism, but of
Self-expression; a school of which the great Byron is the everlasting
master-and in which the Poet reveals the hearts of others, by confess-
ing the emotions of his own. Of late years, we have been overwhelm-
ed with attempts at the kind of pathos which the following stanzas
embody with melancholy tenderness-yet with manly resignation.
But at the time Schiller wrote this, the loveliest, perhaps, of his
lyrical elegies, he had the merit of originality-a merit the greater,
because the Poem expresses feelings which almost all of us have
felt in the progress of life.
So,
10, wilt thou, with thy charming train,
Relentless, faithless, fly from me,
With all thy pleasure, all thy pain,
And all thy World of Fantasy?
Alas! can naught thy flight restrain?
Can naught mine age of gold delay ?
No-downward to the eternal main
The hurrying waters lapse away.
Extinct in night the suns are lost
That did my youth serenely gild:
Dissolved in air the Ideal host
That once the heart inebriate fill'd.
Gone is the sweet belief divine
In beings born to dreams! I see
The godlike realm, that once was mine,
Thy spoil, O stern Reality!
Į
}
1
!

!
די
TO THE IDEALS.
As round his form he art had wrought
Pygmalion's yearning arms were thrown,
Till life from love the statue caught,
And feeling glowed beneath the stone;-
So Nature, in my loving arms,
And with my young desire, I prest;
Till, warm'd to breath and living charms,
She kindled at my Poet's breast.
With mine impassion'd flame she burn'd,
Her silence found responsive tone;
My kiss of love her kiss return'd;
Her heart interpreted my own.
Then liv'd the flower-then liv'd the tree '-
Then sang the fountain's silver fall!
No thing without a soul to me!
My life its echo heard in all !
119
Pent in the bosom's narrow bound,
The circling whole in embryo lay,
And strove in deed, word, shape, and sound,
To burst existing into day.
How rich, while yet the germ conceal'd,
I thought that world of blooms must be;
But from the germ they rose reveal'd,
And oh, how mean the flowers I see'
Light, as by valor wing'd for air,
On life illumed by morning beams,
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120 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Sprang Youth, as yet uncurb'd by care,
And blest in error's happy dreams :
Up to the ether's faintest star,
Did wild design adventurous soar—
Oh, naught too high, and naught too far
For those strong pinions to explore.
Borne into heaven-there seem'd no strife
Too hard for him the prize to gain;
How danced before the car of life
The light Procession's airy train!
Love, with rewards to lovers known,
Fortune, with fillets golden-spun,
And Glory, with her starry crown,
And Truth, that glittered in the sun.
Ah! midway soon the radiant shapes
Forsaking, faithless from me stray,
As, one by one, the host escapes
And into distance fades away.
Light Fortune was the first to fly ;-
The thirst for knowledge linger'd still,
When Doubt in tempest vail'd the sky,
And-Truth no more was visible.
And holy Glory's crown sublime
I saw ignoble brows above;
And, oh, the brief sweet bloom of Time!
Oh, all too soon fled rosy Love!
And stiller yet, and yet more lone,
The desert path before me lay,
I
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J
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PEGASUS IN HARNESS.
Till Hope itself but feebly shone
Along the glimmering, gloomy way.
Who, loving, lingers yet to guide,
When all that train inebriate fled,
Who stands consoling by my side,
And follows to the House of Dread?
Thou, FRIENDSHIP-thou art faithful there,
As gentle still to heal the wound,
As strong the load of life to share,
O! thou the earliest sought and found
And Thou, that dost with her combine,
To lull the soul's unruly storm,
At least thy tasks, EMPLOYMENT MINE,
Destroy not, slowly though they form.
If swelling but by grains of sand,
Eternity that pile sublime-
Yet moments, days, and years, thy hand
Strikes from the great account of Time
5
PEGASUS IN HARNESS.
A
T Smithfield' once, as I've been told,
Or some such place where beasts are sold,
A bard, whose bones from flesh were all free,
Put up for sale the muse's palfrey.
The Hippogriff, majestic, neigh'd,
And pranced as if in proud parade
121
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3
122
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The crowd grew large, the crowd grew larger:
"In truth," they cried, "a splendid charger!
'Twould suit some coach of state !—the king's
But, bless my soul, what frightful wings!
No doubt the breed is mighty rare-
But who would coach it through the air?
Who'd trust his neck to such a flyer ?"-
In short, the bard could find no buyer.
At last a farmer plucked up mettle:
"Let's see if we the thing can settle.
Those useless wings my man may lop,
Or tie down tight-I like a crop!
"T might draw my cart, if kept in bounds;
Come, Friend, I'll venture twenty pounds!"
The hungry bard with joy consented,
And Hodge bears off his prize, contented.
The noble beast is in the cart;
Hodge cries, "Gee hup !" and off they start.
He scarcely feels the load behind,
Skirrs, scours, and scampers like the wind.
The wings begin for heaven to itch,-
And now the cart is in the ditch!
"So ho!" grunts Hodge, "'tis more than funny!
I've got a penn'orth for my money.
To-morrow, if I still survive,
I have some score of folks to drive;
As leader I will yoke the beast;
Twill save me one good pair at least
I
7
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PEGASUS IN HARNESS.
Choler and collar wear with time;
The lively rogue is in his prime.”
All's well at first-till, with a start,
Off goes the wagon like a dart.
Light bounding on, the fiery steed
Inspires the rest to equal speed;
Till, with tall crest, he sniffs the heaven,
Spurns the dull road so smooth and even.
True the impetuous instinct to,
Field, fen, and bog he scampers through.
The frenzy now has caught the team;
The driver tugs, the travelers scream.
O'er ditch, o'er hedge, splash, dash, and crash on
Ne'er farmer flew in such a fashion.
At last, all battered, bruised, and broken,
(Poor Hodge's state may not be spoken,)
Wagon, and team, and travelers stop,
Perched on a mountain's steepest top!
Exceeding sore, and much perplext,
"I' fegs!" the farmer cries, "what next?
This helter-skelter sport will never do,
But break him in I'll yet endeavor to:
Let's see if work and starving diet
Can't tame the monster into quiet!"
The proof was made; and, save us! if in
Three days you'd seen the hippogriffin,
You'd scarce the noble beast have known.
Starved duly down to skin and bone.
!
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128

$
124 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Cries Hodge, rejoiced, "I have it now,
Bring out my ox, he goes to plow."
So said, so done, and droll the tether,
Wing'd horse, slow ox, at plow together
The unwilling griffin strains his might,
One last strong struggle yet for flight;
In vain, for, well inured to labor,
Plods sober on his heavy neighbor,
And forces, inch by inch, to creep,
The hoofs that love the air to sweep;
Until, worn out, the eye grows dim,
The sinews fail the foundered limb,
The god-steed droops, the strife is past,
He writhes amidst the mire at last!
"Accursed brute !" the farmer cries;
And, while he bawls, the cart-whip plies,
"All toil, it seems, you think to shirk,
So fierce to run, so dull to work!
My twenty pounds !—Not worth a pin!
Confound the rogue who took me in!"
He vents his wrath, he plies his thong,
When, lo! there gayly comes along,
With looks of light and locks of yellow,
And lute in hand, a buxom fellow;
Through the bright clusters of his hair
A golden circlet glistens fair.
"What's this?-a wondrous yoke and pleasant!
Cries out the stranger to the peasant.
"The bird and ox thus leashed together-
Come, prithee, just unbrace the tether:
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PUNCH SONG,
But let me mount him for a minute-
That beast!—you'll see how much is in it.”
The steed released, the youthful stranger
Leaps on his back, and smiles at danger;
Scarce felt that steed the master's rein,
When all his fire returns again :
He champs the bit, he rears on high,
Light flashes from the kindling eye;
Changed from a creature of the sod,
Behold the spirit and the god!
As sweeps the whirlwind, heavenward springs
The unfurled glory of his wings;
Before the eye can track the flight,
Lost in the azure fields of light.
Literally "Haymarket."
PUNCH SONG.
OUR Elements, joined in
An emulous strife,
Build up the world, and
Constitute life.
First from the citron
The starry juice pour;
Acid to Life is
The innermost core.
Now, let the sugar
The bitter one meet
125
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124 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Cries Hodge, rejoiced, "I have it now,
Bring out my ox, he goes to plow."
So said, so done, and droll the tether,
Wing'd horse, slow ox, at plow together
The unwilling griffin strains his might,
One last strong struggle yet for flight;
In vain, for, well inured to labor,
Plods sober on his heavy neighbor,
And forces, inch by inch, to creep,
The hoofs that love the air to sweep;
Until, worn out, the eye grows dim,
The sinews fail the foundered limb,
The god-steed droops, the strife is past,
He writhes amidst the mire at last!
"Accursed brute !" the farmer cries;
And, while he bawls, the cart-whip plies,
All toil, it seems, you think to shirk,
So fierce to run, so dull to work!
My twenty pounds!-Not worth a pin!
Confound the rogue who took me in!"
He vents his wrath, he plies his thong,
When, lo! there gayly comes along,
With looks of light and locks of yellow,
And lute in hand, a buxom fellow;
Through the bright clusters of his hair
A golden circlet glistens fair.
"What's this?-a wondrous yoke and pleasant!
Cries out the stranger to the peasant.
"The bird and ox thus leashed together-
Come, prithee, just unbrace the tether :
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PUNCH SONG.
But let me mount him for a minute-
That beast!--you'll see how much is in it."
The steed released, the youthful stranger
Leaps on his back, and smiles at danger;
Scarce felt that steed the master's rein,
When all his fire returns again :
He champs the bit, he rears on high,
Light flashes from the kindling eye;
Changed from a creature of the sod,
Behold the spirit and the god!
As sweeps the whirlwind, heavenward springs
The unfurled glory of his wings;
Before the eye can track the flight,
Lost in the azure fields of light.
1 Literally "Haymarket."
PUNCH SONG.
OUR Elements, joined in
An emulous strife,
Build up the world, and
Constitute life.
First from the citron
The starry juice pour;
Acid to Life is
The innermost core.
Now, let the sugar
The bitter one meet
125
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126
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And the strength of the acid
Be tamed with the sweet.
Bright let the water
Flow into the bowl;
For water, in calmness,
Encircles the whole.
Next, shed the drops
Of the spirit within⚫
Life but its life from
The spirit can win.
Drain quick-no restoring
When cool can it bring;
The wave has but virtue
Drunk hot from the spring
PUNCH SONG;
TO BE SUNG IN THE NORTH,
ΟΝ
N the free southern hills
Where the full summers shine
Nature, quickened by sunlig it,
Gives birth to the vine'
Her work the Great Mother
Conceals from the sight,
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PUNCH SONG.
Untracked is the labor,
Unfathomed the might.
Like a child of the sunbeam,
A fountain of light,
It springs from the vat,
Crystal-clear-purple-bright.
All the senses it gladdens,
Gives Hope to the breast;
To grief a soft balsam,
To life a new zest.
But, our zone palely gilding,
The Sun of the North
From the leaves it scarce tinteth
No fruit ripens forth.
Yet life will ne'er freely
Life's gladness resign:
Our vales know no vineyard-
Invent we a wine'
Though wan the libation,
On hearth-altars here;
Living Nature alone gives.
The bright and the clear!
Yet still let the bowl
With its dim flood inspire;
127
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128
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Art too is Heaven's boon,
Though it borrow Earth's fire.
Wherever strength reacheth,
What kingdoms await her!
From the Old, the New shaping,
Art, ever-Creator!—
The Elements' union
Divides at her rod,
With the hearth-flame she mimics
The sun's glowing god.
To the isles of the Blessed
She sends the ship forth
Lo, the southern fruits lending
Their gold to the North!
So, this sap wrung from flame be
A symbol-sign still,
Of the wonders man works with
The Force and the Will!
21
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LIGHT AND WARMTH.
*
LIGHT AND WARMTH.
THE
HE nobler man, unchilled by doubt,
Doth cheerly life begin;
And deems the world he sees without
Pure as his soul within.
Warm in the generous trust of youth,
Ile vows his true arm to the truth.
The lowness and the littleness
Of all so soon is shown,
That through the throng, and from the press,
He guards himself alone;
His heart in haughty cold repose,
From love at last itself doth close.
The rays of truth that light bestow
Not always warmth impart;
Blest he who gains the boon TO KNOW,
Nor buys it with the heart!
World-wisdom clear, Enthusiasm bright,
Link-and enjoy both warmth and light.
مین پر
;
129
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
BREADTH AND DEPTH.
MAN
ANY bright wits in the world one sees,
Universal, indeed, in knowledge,
On the charm to attract and the art to please-
Their lore could perplex a college.
So fond of the Learning they show with such pride
That she seems, happy men, their monopolized
bride.
And yet they go out of the world quite still,
No trace of existence leaving;
Ah! he who would really the Great fulfill,
And win what is worth achieving,
Must silently gather, and, hour by hour,
In the smallest point, store the amplest power.
Though the stem may rise proud in the air aloft,
Broad shade through the branches render;
Though the leaves may be bright, and their fra-
grance soft,
'Tis not they that the fruit engender ;
From the kernel alone, though so small it be,
Comes the Pride of the Forest :-It hides the
TREE!
!
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HERO AND LEANDER.
131
HERO AND LEANDER;
A BALLAD.
WE have already seen, in "The Ring of Polycrates," Schiller's
mode of dealing with classical subjects. In the poems that follow,
derived from similar sources, the same spirit is maintained. In
spite of Humboldt, we venture to think that Schiller certainly does
not narrate Greek legends in the spirit of an ancient Greek. The
Gothic sentiment, in its ethical depth and mournful tenderness, more
or less pervades all that he translates from classic fable into modern
pathos. The grief of Horo, 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
moralizing Horace. Nothing can be more foreign to the Hellenic
Genius (if we except the very disputable intention of the "Pro-
metheus") than the interior and typical design which usually exalts
every conception in Schiller. But it is perfectly open to the Mod
ern Poet to treat of ancient legends in the modern spirit. Though he
select a Greek story, he is still a modern who narrates-he can never
make himself a Greck, any more than Eschylus in the "Persa"
could make himself a Persian, But this is still more the privilege
of the Poet in Narrative, or lyrical composition, than in the Drama,
forin the former he does not abandon his identity, as in the lat-
ter he must-yet even this must has its limits. Shakspeare's won-
derful power of self-transfusion has no doubt enabled him, in nis
Plays from Roman history, to animato his characters with much of
Roman life. But no one can maintain that a Rornan would ever
have written plays in the least resembling "Julius Cæsar," or "Co-
riolanus," or "Antony and Cleopatra." The Portraits may be
Roman, but they aro painted in the manner of the Gothic school.
The Spirit of antiquity is only in them, inasmuch as the representa-
tion of Human Nature, under certain circumstances, is accurately,
though loosely outlined. When the Poet raises the dead, it is not to
restore, but to remodel.

1
132 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
SEE Y
EE you the towers that, gray and old,
Amidst the sunlight's liquid gold,
Crown each confronting steep?
The Hellespont beneath them swells,
And roaring cleaves the Dardanelles.
The Rock-Gates of the Deep!
Hear you the surges storming on
Against the frowning cliffs above ?
Those waves from Asia Europe tore
They did not frighten Love.
In Hero's, in Leander's heart,
The god hath lodged his holy dart-
Sweet pain, to lovers known!
All Hebe's bloom in Hero's face-
And his the steps that seek the chase,
And roam the mountains lone.
Between their sires the rival feud
Forbids their plighted hearts to meet;
And Love suspends o'er Danger's gulf
The fruits that are so sweet.
Alone on Sestos' rocky tower,
Where, upward sent in stormy shower,
The eternal 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 ;

1
HERO AND LEANDER.
No boatman shoots from yonder shore,
Yet LOVE has found the way.-
That Love which could the Labyrinth dread
With slender clue securely thread,
Which gifts 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 nine-fold flows,
Has Love, the fearless, ventured o'er,
And back to daylight 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 strives for that dear strand afar;
Where high from Hero's lonely tower
Lone streams the Beacon-star.
In vain his blood the wave may chill,
These tender arms can warm it still-
And, weary if the way,
By many a sweet embrace, above
All earthly boons, can liberal Love
The Lover's toil repay,
S
133
A
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134
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
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,
Pluck'd fruits that taste of Heaven!
Now changing in their Season are,
The Morning and the Hesper Star;-
They mark no changing year,
No leaves that wither, fade and fall,
As grimly, from his Northern hall,
Comes Winter near and near;
Or, if they mark, 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—¹
Lone, on her rocky steep,
1
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.
++
HERO AND LEANDER.
Lingers the girl with wistful eyes
That watch the sun-steeds down the skies,
Careering toward the deep.
Lull'd 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,
Upswarming from their 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, wooes 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!
135
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136. POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
"Within these desert walls of stone,
Should I, repining, mourn alone,
And fade in ceaseless care,
VA
But thou, though o'er thy giant tide,
Nor bridge may span, nor boat may glide,
Dost safe my lover bear.
And darksome is thy solemn deep,
And fearful is thy roaring wave;
But wave and deep are won by love—
Thou smilest on the brave!
"Nor vainly, Sovereign of the Sea,
Did Eros send his shafts to thee:
What time the Ram of Gold
Bright Helle, with her brother, bore,
To Asian coasts, thy waters o'er,
From Ino's wrath, 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 favoring guides
The sailor to the port!
Beautiful Helle, bright one, hear
Thy lone adoring suppliant pray!
*
3

HERO AND LEANDER.
And guide, this eve-oh, guide my love
Along the wonted way!"
Now twilight dims the water's flow,
And from the tower, the beacon's glow
Waves flickering o'er the main,
Ah, where, athwart the dismal stream,
Shall shine the Beacon's faithful beam,
The lover's eyes shall strain !
And threat'ning howl the winds afar-
From heaven the blessed stars are gone-
More darkly swells the rising sea-
The tempest labors on!
Along the ocean's boundless plains
Lies Night-in torrents rush the rains
From the dark-bosom'd cloud-
Red lightning pants along the 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,
A hell-the ocean under!
K
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!
137
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
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 naught but death should bar return,
Breathed those dear lips to me;
And whirl'd around, the while I weep,
Amid the storm that rides the wave,
The giant gulf is grasping down
The rash one to the grave!
}
Now in the midway of the main,
Return relentlessly forbidden,
Thou loosenest on the path beyond
The horrors thou hadst hidden."
}
"False Pontus! and the calm I hail'd,
The deadly treason darkly vail'd;
The lull'd pellucid flow,
The smiles in which thou wert array'd,
Were but the snares that Love betray'd
To thy false realm below!
Loud and more loud the tempest raves,
In thunder break the mountain waves,
White-foaming on the rock-
}
}
1
,

.
HERO AND LEANDER.
No ship that ever swept the deep
Its ribs of gnarled oak could keep
Unshatter'd by the shock,
Dies in the blast the guiding torch
To light the struggler to the strand;
'Tis death to battle with the wave,
And death no less to land!
On Venus, daughter of the seas,
She calls, the tempest to appease―
To each wild-shrieking wind
Along the ocean-desert borne,
She vows a steer with golden horn-
Vain vow-relentless wind!
On every goddess of the deep,
On all the gods in heaven that be,
She calls to smooth to crystal calm
The tempest-laden sea!
Hearken the anguish of my cries!
From thy green halls, arise—arise,
Leucothea the divine!
Who, in the barren main afar,
Oft on the storm-beat mariner
Dost gently-saving shine.
Oh, reach to him thy mystic veil,
To which the drowning clasp may cling
And safely from that roaring grave,
To shore my lover bring!"
* 1
What cover ortalama v
139
1
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140
{
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And now the savage winds are hushing,
And o'er the arch'd horizon, blushing,
Day's chariot gleams on high!
Back to its bed the ocean creeps,
Clear as a mirror shine the deeps;
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 fulfill;
She looks-sees-knows him there!
From her pale lips no sorrow speaks,
No tears glide down the hueless cheeks,
Cold—numb’d in her despair—
She look'd along the silent deep,
She look'd upon the bright'ning heaven,
Till to the wan still face a flush
From fires sublime was 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 hat brought me happiness-
The fairest lot was mine!
Living have I thy temple served,
Thy consecrated priestess been-
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CASSANDRA.
My last glad offering now receive,
Venus, thou mightiest queen!"
Flash'd the white robe along the air,
And from the tower that beetled there
She plunged into the wave;
Roused from his throne beneath the waste,
Those holy forms the god embraced-
A god himself their grave!
Pleased with his prey, he glides along-
More blithe the murmur'd music seems,
As gush from unexhausted urns
His Everlasting Streams!
141
1 This notes the time of year-not the time of day-viz., about the
28d of September.-HOFFMEISTER
2 Hecate, as the mysterious Goddess of Nature.-HOFFMEISTER.
CASSANDRA.
THERE is peace between the Greeks and Trojans-Achilles is to wed
Polyxena, Priam's daughter. On entering the Temple, he is shot
through his only vulnerable part by Paris.-The time of the following
Poem is during the joyous preparations for the marriage. N. B.-The
meter is, in the translation, lengthened by a syllable from that in the
original, which seemed to me associated, to English ears, with a cer
tain sing song, at variance with the stately spirit of the poem.
Α'
ND mirth was in the halls of Troy,
Before her towers and temples fell;
High peal'd the choral hymns of joy,
Melodious to the golden shell.
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142
(al_at_pantat —
Jag har anbe
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The weary hand reposed from slaughter—
The eye forgot the tear it shed;
This day King Priam's lovely daughter
Shall great Pelides wed!
Adorn'd with laurel boughs, they come,
Crowd after crowd, the way divine,
To fanes where gods have found a home-
And on to Thymbra's' soleinn shrine.
Along the streets in Bromian madness
The wild uproarious revelers prest;
And left forsaken to its sadness
One solitary breast!
Unjoyous in the joyful throng,
Alone, and linking life with none,
Apollo's laurel groves among,
The still Cassandra wander'd on!
Into the forest's deed recesses
The solemn Prophet-Maiden pass'd,
And, scornful, from her loosen'd tresses,
The sacred fillet cast!
•All deem that grief at length is o'er,
All hearts the blessed union hail;
Mine aged parents hope once more,
My sister wears the bridal-vail-
And I alone, alone am weeping;
The sweet delusion mocks not me-
Around these walls destruction sweeping,
More near and near I see!
I
K

CASSANDRA.
"A torch before my vision glows,
But not in Hymen's hand it shines;
To Heaven a smoke ascending goes,
But not from holy offering-shrines;
Glad hands the banquet are preparing,
And near, and near the halls of state,
I hear the God that comes unsparing,
And brims the bowl of Fate.
And men my prophet-wail deride!
The solemn sorrow dies in scorn
And lonely in the waste, I hide
The tortured heart that would forewarn.
Amidst the happy, unregarded,
Mock'd by their fearful joy, I trod;
Oh, dark to me the lot awarded,
Thou evil Pythian god!
• Thine oracle, in vain to be,
Oh, wherefore am I thus consign'd
With eyes that every truth must see,
Lone in the City of the Blind?
Cursed with the anguish of a power
To view the fates I may not thrall,
The hovering tempest still must lower-
The horror must befall!
143
Delusion is the life we live,
And knowledge death-Oh, wherefore, then,
To sight the coming evils give,
And lift the vail of Fate, to Men?
which wer
کھو
44
I

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Take back the clear and awful mirror,
Shut from mine eyes the blood-red glare;
Thy truth is but a gift of terror
When mortal lips declare.
My blindness give to me once more²-
The gay dim senses that rejoice;
The Past's delighted songs are o'er
For lips that speak a Prophet's voice
To me the future thou hast granted;
To wrap the present hour in gloom,
To leave the moment disenchanted--
False God, thy gift resume!
"Never may I with nuptial wreath
The odor-breathing hair entwine;
My heavy heart is bow'd beneath
The service of thy dreary shrine.
My youth was but by tears corroded,-
My sole familiar is my pain,
Each coming ill my heart foreboded,
And felt it first-in vain!
"I see my blithe companions play
студент
Around, in youth's fair pastime free,
All live and love their hours away-
The heart is only sad to me.
For me no spring returns-oh, never
For me her revel Nature keeps!
The joy of life is lost forever
To eyes that read its deeps!
Sp
((
..
"I too might know the soft control
Of one the longing heart could choose,'
With look which love illumes with soul-
CASSANDRA.
Rapt in thy bliss, my sister, thine
The heart's inebriate rapture-springs ;-
Longing with bridal arms to twine
The bravest of the Grecian kings.
High swells the joyous bosom, seeming
Too narrow for its world of love,
Nor envies, in its heaven of dreaming,
The heaven of gods above!
t
The look that supplicates and wooes.
And sweet with him, where love presiding
Prepares our hearth, to go-but, dim,
A Stygian shadow, nightly gliding,
Stalks between me and him!
Forth from the grim funereal shore,
The Hell-Queen sends her ghastly bands;
Where'er I turn-behind-before-
Dumb in my path-a Specter stands '
Wherever gayliest, youth assembles-
I see the shades in horror clad,
Amidst Hell's ghastly People trembles
One soul forever sad!
“I see the steel of Murder gleam—
I see the Murderer's glowing eyes—
J
J
To right to left, one gory stream-
One circling fate—my flight defies
1

145
<< >
Se van die kantari del Bilgi, dan me djetij v Martin
146
I may not turn my gaze-all seeing,
Foreknowing all, I dumbly stand-
To close in blood my ghastly being
In the far strangers' land!"
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Hark while the sad sounds murmur round,
Hark, from the Temple-porch, the cries!
A wild, confused, tumultuous sound!
Dead the divine Pelides lies!
Grim Discord rears her snakes devouring-
The last departing god hath gone!
And, womb'd in cloud, the thunder, lowering,
Hangs black on Ilion.
At Thymbra there was a temple sacred to Apollo, who was thence
called Thymbræus. Here Paris is said to have slain Achilles.
2 "Everywhere," says Hoffmeister, truly, "Schiller exalts Idenl
Belief over real wisdom: everywhere this modern Apostle of Chris-
tianity advocates that Ideal, which exists in faith and emotion,
against the wisdom of worldly intellect, the barreu experience of
life," &c.
3 Agamemnon.
NOTE-Upon this poem, Madame de Staël makes the following
just and striking criticism.-L'Allemagne, Part II., c. 18. "One sces
In this ode the curse inflicted on a mortal by the prescience of a god.
Is not the grief of the Prophetess that of all who possess a superior
intellect with an impassioned heart? Under a shape wholly poetic,
Schiller has embodied an idea grandly moral--viz., that the true
genius (that of the sentiment) is a victim to itself, even when spared
by others. There are no nuptials for Cassandra: not that she is in-
sensible-not that she is disdained-but the clear penetration of her
soul passes in an instant both life and death, and can only repose in
Heaven."
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THE PLAYING INFANT.
THE PLAYING INFANT.
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147
PLAY
AY in thy mother's lap, fair child! for in that
holy isle
The trouble cannot find thee yet, the grieving, nor
the guile;
Held in thy mother's arms above the dark, abysmal
wave,
Thou lookest with thy fearless smile upon the
floating grave.
Play, loveliest Innocence !-Thee, yet Arcadia cir-
cles round,
Life's blooming vigor guards as yet the golden
poet-ground.
Each gleesome impulse Nature now can sanction
and befriend,
Nor to that willing heart as yet the Duty and the
End.
Play, for the haggard Laoor soon will come to seize
its prey:
Alas when Duty grows thy law, Enjoyment fades
away
··
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148
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE VICTORY FEAST.
In this Lyric, Schiller had a notion of raising the popular social song
from the prosaic vulgarity common to it, into a higher and more epic
dignity.
THE stately walls of Troy had sunken,
Her towers and temples strew'd the soil;
The sons of Hellas, victory-drunken,
Richly laden with the spoil,
Are on their lofty barks reclin'd
Along the Hellespontine strand;
A gleesome freight the favoring wind
Shall bear to Greece's glorious land;
And gleesome chant the choral strain,
As toward the household altars, now,
Each bark inclines the painted prow-
For Home shall smile again!
And link'd in lengthened rows, and weeping,
Sate the pale Trojan women there,
And smote their bosoms;-downward sweeping
Hung their loose dishevel'd hair.
No festive sounds that peal along,
Their mournful dirge can overwhelm ;
Through hymns of joy one sorrowing song
Commingled, wails the ruin'd realm.
"Farewell, beloved shores!" it said,
"From home afar behold us torn,
By foreign lords as captives borne-
Ah, happy are the Dead!"
{
}

THE VICTORY FEAST.
And Calchas, while the altars blaze,
Invokes the high gods to their feast!
On Pallas, mighty or to raise
Or shatter cities, called the Priest-
And Him, who wreathes around the land
The girdle of his watery world,
And Zeus, from whose almighty hand
The terror and the bolt are hurl'd.
Success at last awards the crown-
The long and weary war is past;
Time's destined circle ends at last-
And fall'n the Mighty Town!
The Son of Atreus, king of men,
The muster of the hosts survey'd,
How dwindled from the thousands, when
Along Scamander first array'd!
With sorrow and the cloudy thought,
The Great King's stately look grew dim-
Of all the hosts to Ilion brought,
How few to Greece return with him'
Still let the song to gladness call,
For those who yet their home shall greet'—
For them the blooming life is sweet:
Return is not for all!
Nor all who reach their native land
May long the joy of welcome feel—
Beside the household gods may stand
Grim Murder with awaiting steel;
149
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And they who 'scape the foe, may die
Beneath the foul familiar glave.
Thus He¹ to whose prophetic eye
Her light the wise Minerva gave
Ah! blest whose hearth, to memory true,
The goddess keeps unstained and pure-
For woman's guile is deep and sure,
And Falsehood loves the New!"
The Spartan eyes his Helen's charms,
By the best blood of Greece recaptured;
Round that fair form his glowing arms—
(A second bridal)-wreathe enraptured.
"Woe waits the work of evil birth-
Revenge to deeds unblest is given!
For watchful o'er the things of earth,
The Eternal Council-Halls of Heaven.
Yes, ill shall ever ill repay-
Jove to the impious hands that stain
The Altar of Man's Hearth, again
The doomer's doom shall weigh!"
p
Well they, reserved for joy to-day,"
Cried out Oileus' valiant son,
"May laud the favoring gods who sway
Our earth, their easy thrones upon;
With careless hands they mete our doom
Our woe or welfare Hazard gives-
Patroclus slumbers in the tomb,
And all unharm'd Thersites lives.
1

THE VICTORY FEAST.
If Fate, then, showers without a choice
The lots of luck and life on all,
Let him on whom the prize may fall,-
Let him who lives-rejoice!
Yes, war will still devour the best!—
Brother, remember'd in this hour!
His shade should be in feasts a guest,
Whose form was in the strife a tower!
What time our ships the Trojan fired.
Thine arm to Greece the safety gave-
The prize to which thy soul aspired,
The crafty wrested from the brave.
Peace to thine ever-holy rest-
Not thine to fall before the foe
Ajax alone laid Ajax low:
Ah-wrath destroys the best!"
Pelides, to thy memory, then,
Did Pyrrhus pour the votive wine :-
Of all the lots vouchsafed to men,
My soul, great Father, prizes thine.
Whate'er our earthly goods,-of all
The highest and the holiest-FAME!
For when the Form in dust shall fall,
O'er dust triumphant lives the Name!
Brave Man, thy light of glory never
Shall fade, while song to man shall last
The Living soon from earth are pass'd
THE DEAD-ENDURE FOREVER""
151

{
152
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
"Since Song be mute to mourn and praise
In Victory's hour, the vanquish'd Man-
Be mine at least one voice to raise
For HECTOR," Tydeus' son began:
"A Tower before his native town,
S
He stood and fell as fall the brave.
The conqueror wins the brighter crown,
The conquer'd has the nobler grave!
He in whose life his country knows
Her rock and rampart,-bravely slain,
Honored in death, shall glory gain
Out of the lips of Foes!"
Lo, Nestor now, the joyous chief
Who sees three races fade away,
The wine-cup-crowned with living leaf-
Extends to weeping Hecuba.
“Drink—in the draught new strength is glowing
The grief it bathes forgets the smart!
O Bacchus! wond'rous boons bestowing,
Oh, how thy balsam heals the heart!
Drink-in the draught new vigor gloweth,
The grief it bathes forgets the smart-
And balsam to the breaking heart,
The healing god bestoweth.
"As Niobe, when weeping mute,
To angry gods the scorn and prey,
But tasted of the charmed fruit,
And cast despair itself away;
ܚ
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THE VICTORY FEAST.
So, in this tide thy sorrows steep;
For while unto thy lips it flows,
Thy grief shall know as sure a sleep
As that which Lethe's wave bestows.
So, in this tide thy sorrows steep;
For while unto thy lips it flows,
Fast bound in Lethè's still repose
Shall Pain and Memory sleep!"
Seized by the god, behold the dark
And dreaming prophetess arise,
She gazes from the lofty bark
Where Home's dim vapors wrap the skies-
"A vapor all of human birth,
Like mists ascending, seen and gone,
So fade Earth's great ones from the Earth,
And leave the changeless gods alone.
Behind the steed that scours away;
And on the galley's deck-sits Care,
To-morrow comes, and we are where?
Then let us live to-day!
"1
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153
Ulysses.
2 Need we say to the general reader, that allusion is here made to
the strife between Ajax and Ulysses, which has furnished a subject
to the Greek tragic poet, who has depicted, more strikingly than any
historian, that intense emulation for glory, and that mortal agony in
defeat, which constituted the main secret of the prodigious energy
of the Greek character? The tragic poet, in taking his hero from the
Homeric age, endowed him with the feelings of the Athenian repub-
licans he addressed.
3 Neoptolemus, the son of Achilles.

&
154
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
THE CRANES OF IBYCUS.
FRC
ROM Rhegium to the Isthmus, long
Hallow'd to steeds and glorious song,
Where, link'd awhile in holy peace,
Meet all the sons, of martial Greece—
Wends Ibycus-whose lips the sweet
And ever-young Apollo fires;
The staff supports the wanderer's feet-
The God the Poet's soul inspires!
Soon from the mountain-ridges high,
The tower-crown'd Corinth greets his eye;
In Neptune's groves of darksome pine,
He treads with shuddering awe divine;
Nought lives around him, save a swarm
Of CRANES, that still attend his way-
Lured by the South, they wheel and form
In lengthened files their squadrons gray.
66
And Hail! beloved Birds!" he cried;
My comrades on the ocean tide,
Sure signs of good ye bode to me;
Alike our lots would seem to be;
From far, together borne, we greet
A shelter now from toil and danger;
Aud may the friendly hearts we meet
Preserve from every ill-the Stranger!"
F

THE CRANES OF IBYCUS.
His step more light, his heart more gay,
Along the mid-wood winds his way,
When, where the path the thickets close,¹
Burst sudden forth two ruffian foes;
Now strife to strife, and foot to foot!
The hand soon sinks before the foe;
That hand so mighty with the lute,
Alas! is powerless with the bow.
He calls on men and Gods-in vain!
His cries no blest deliverer gain;
Feebler and fainter grows the sound,
And still the deaf life slumbers round-
"In the far land I fall forsaken,
Unwept and unregarded here;
By death from caitiff hands o'ertaken,
Nor ev'n one late avenger near!"
155
Down to the earth the death-stroke bore hin-
Hark, where the Cranes wheel rustling o'er him.
He hears, as darkness vails his eyes,
Near, in hoarse croak, their dirge-like cries.
By you, wild birds, since yours, alone
16
The voices that can right the dead,
Be borne the tale of murder done
To Heaven!"-And so the spirit fled.
Naked and maim'd the corpse was found--
And, still through many a mangling wound,
The sad Corinthian Host could trace
The loved-too well-remembered face.
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156
"And must I meet thee thus once more?
Who hoped the singer's brows to crown
With wreaths of pine-the victory o'er-
And radiant with a new renown!"
16
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And loud lamented every guest
Who held the Sea-God's solemn feast-
As in a single heart prevailing,
Throughout all Hellas went the wailing.
Wild to the Council Hall they ran-
In thunder rush'd the human Flood-
Revenge shall right the murder'd man,
The last atonement-blood for blood!”
Yet 'mid the throng the Isthmus claims,
Lured by the Sea-God's glorious games—
The mighty, many-nation'd throng-
How track the hand that wrought the wrong
?-
How guess if that dread deed were done
By ruffian hands, or secret foes?
He who sees all on earth-the SUN-
Alone the gloomy secret knows.
Perchance he treads in careless peace,
Amidst your Sons, assembled Greece-
Hears with a smile revenge decreed,
Gloats with fell joy upon the deed-
His steps the avenging gods may mock
Within the very Temple's wall.
Or mingle with the crowds that flock
To yonder solemn scenic² hall.
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THE CRANES OF IBYCUS.
Wedg'd close, and serried, swarms the crowd-
Beneath the weight the walls are bow'd-
Thitherwards streaming far, and wide,
Broad Hellas flows in mingled tide-
A tide like that which heaves the deep
When hollow-sounding, shoreward driven ;—
On, wave on wave, the thousands sweep
Till arching, tier on tier, to heaven!
The tribes, the nations, who shall name,
That, guest-like, there assembled came ?
From Theseus' town, from Aulis' strand-
From Phocis, from the Spartans' land—
From Asia's wave-divided clime,
The Isles that gem Ionian seas,
To hearken on that Stage Sublime,
The Dark Choir's dismal melodies!
True to the awful rites of old,
In long and measured strides, behold
The Chorus from the hinder ground,
Pace the vast circle's solemn round.
So this World's women never strode,
Their race from Mortals ne'er began;
Gigantic, from their grim abode,
They tower above the Sons of Man!
157
Across their loins the dark robe clinging,
In fleshless hands the torches swinging,
Now to and fro, with dark red glow-
No blood that lives the dead cheeks know!
11
158
1
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
Where flow the locks that woo to love
On human temples, ghastly dwell
The serpents, coil'd the brows above,
And the green asps with poison swell.
Thus circling, horrible, within
That space, doth their dark hymn begin;
The hymn that cleaves the heart in twain,
And round the sinner coils the chain;
The sense it robb'd, the soul it chill'd,
Enduring no accordant string;
On through the very marrow thrill'd
The chant which choral Furies sing!-
And weal to him-from crime secure-
Who keeps his soul as childhood's pure;
Life's path he roves, a wanderer free—
We near him not-THE AVENGERS, WE!
But woe to him for whom we weave
The doom for deeds that shun the light;
Fast to the murderer's feet we cleave,
The fearful Daughters of the Night.
And deems he flight from us can hide him?
Still on dark wings we sail beside him!
The murderer's feet the snare inthralls--
Or soon or late, to earth he falls!
Untiring, hounding on, we go;
For blood can no remorse atone!
On, ever-to the Shades below,
And there we grasp him, still our own
{

Ang ganda
*

THE CRANES OF IBYCUS.
!
So singing, their slow dance they wreathe,
And stillness, like the hush of death,
Heavily there lay cold and drear,
As if the Godhead's self were near.
Then, true to those dread rites of old,
Pacing the circle's solemn round,
In long and measur'd strides-behold,
They vanish in the hinder ground!
Confused, and poised in doubt between
The solemn truth and mimic scene,
The crowd revere the Power, presiding
O'er secret deeds, to justice guiding—
The never-fathom'd all-confest
By whom the web of doom is spun;
That drags to light the darkest breast,
Yet flies in darkness from the sun!
Just then, amidst the highest tier,
Breaks forth a voice that starts the ear:
"See there-see there, Timotheus;
Behold the Cranes of Ibycus ""
A sudden darkness wraps the sky,
As sailing slow on solemn wing,
Above that roofless hall on high,
The Cranes sweep, hoarsely murmuring!
"Of Ibycus ?"-that name so dear
Re-wakes the grief in those who hear!
Like wave on wave on eager seas,
From mouth to mouth the murmur flees-
159
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160 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCIIILLER.
"Of Ibycus, whom we bewail?
The murder'd one! What mean those words?
Who is the man-knows he the tale?
Why link that name with those wild birds?"
Questions on questions louder press-
Like lightning flies the inspiring guess-
Leaps every heart—" The truth we seize ;
Your might is here, EUMENIDES !
The murderer yields himself confest-
Vengeance is near-that voice the token!-
Ho-him who yonder spoke, arrest!—
And him to whom the words were spoken !"
M
Scarce had the wretch the words let fall,
Than fain their sense he would recall.
In vain; those whitening lips, behold!
The secret have already told.
The judge is there, the court array'd;
The scene becomes the tribunal-
So lightning pierced the guilty shade,
And with it fell the thunder-ball.
1 "Auf gedrangem Steg." I apprehend that Steg here means path
not bridge. There seems no necessity for a bridge, and it would be
contrary to Schiller's concise art in narrative to employ any
topographical description without purpose. If he had intended to
make a bridge the place on which murder occurred, it would have
been that the corpse might be thrown into the stream below. And,
indeed, murderers would scarcely leave the dead body on the bridge
when they had means of disposing of it close at hand.
2 The theatre.

}
THE CRANES OF IBYCUS.
NOTE.
THE principal sources whence Schiller has taken the story of
[bycus (which was well known to the ancients, and indeed gave rise
to a proverb) are Suidas and Plutarch. Ibycus is said by some to
have been the Inventor of the Sambuca or triangular Cithera. Wo
must observe, however (though erudite investigation on such a sub-
ject were misplaced here), that Athenæus and Strabo consider the
Sambuca to have originated with the Syrians; and this supposition is
rendered the more probable by the similarity of the Greek word with
the Hebrew, which in our received translation of the Bible is ren-
dered by the word "Sackbut." The tale, in its leading incidents, is
told very faithfully by Schiller: it is the moral, or interior meaning,
which he has hightened and identified. Plutarch is contented to
draw from the story a moral against loquacity. "It was not," says
he, "the Cranes that betrayed the Murderers, but their own garru-
lity." With Schiller the garrulity is produced by the surprise of the
Conscience, which has been awakened by the Apparition and Song
of the Furies. His own conceptions as to the effect he desired to
create are admirable. "It is not precisely that the Hymn of the
Furies" (remarks the poet) "has roused the remorse of the mur-
derer, whose exclamation betrays himself and his accomplice; that
was not my meaning-but it has reminded him of his deed his
sense is struck with it. In this moment the appearance of the
Cranes must take him by surprise; he is a rude, dull churl, over
whom the impulse of the moment has all power. His loud ex-
clamation is natural in such circumstances." "That he feels no
great remorso, in his thoughtless exclamation, is evident by the
quick, snappish nature of it-See there, seo thero!' &c."—
"In any other state of mind," observes Hoffmeister, "perhaps the
Audience might not have attended to this ejaculation-but at that
moment of deep, inward emotion, produced by the representation of
the fearful Goddesses, and an excited belief in their might, the name
of the newly-murdered man must havo struck them as the very
voice of Fate, in which the speaker betrays himself." In fact, the
poem is an illustration of Schler's own lines in "The Artists,"
written eight years before
"Vom Eumenidenchor geschrecket
Zicht in der Mord," &c.
1
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}
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TRADA AN
162
In the foregoing ballad, POETRY (that is, the Dirge and dramatic
representation of the Furies) acts doubly-first on the Murderer
next on the Audience; it surprises the one into self-betrayal, it pre-
pares in the other that state of mind in which, as by a divine in.
stinct, the quick perception seizes upon the truth. In this double
effect is nobly typifled the power of Poetry on the individual and on
the multitude. Rightly did Schiller resolve to discard from his
design whatever might seem to partake of marvelous or supernat-
ural interposition. The appearance of the Cranes is purely acciden-
tal. . . . Whatever is of diviner agency in the punishment of crime
is found not in the outer circumstances, but in the heart within-the
true realm in which the gods work their miracles. As it has been
finely said "The bad conscience (in the Criminal) is its own Neme-
sis, the good conscience in the Many-the Audience-drags at once
The history of the compo-
the bad before its forum and judges it."
sition of this Poem affords an instance of the exquisito art of Goothe,
to which it is largely indebted. In the first sketch of the ballad, it
was only one Crane that flew over Ibycus at the time he was mur-
dered, and was reintroduced at the end of the piece. But Goetho
suggested the enlargemeut of this leading incident-into "the long
and broad phenomenon" of the swarm of Cranes, corresponding in
some degree with the long and ample pageant of the Furies. Schil-
ler at once perceived how not only the truthfulness, but the gran-
dour, of his picture was hightened by this simple alteration.
According to Goethe's suggestion, the swarm of Cranes was now
The fine
introduced as accompanying Ibycus in his voyage.
analogy between the human wanderer and his winged companions,
And the
each seeking a foreign land, was dimly outlined.
generous criticism of the one Poet finally gave its present fullness
and beauty to the masterpiece of the other.-See GOETHE'S CORRE-
HOFFMEISTER.
BPONDENCE WITH SOHILLER.
II EINRICHS.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
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THE HOSTAGE.
THE HOSTAGE;
A BALLAD.
The guards bound and bore him away;
The king eyed him sternly, and spoke :
Why the dagger concealed in thy cloak?
The state from a tyrant to free!"
"On the cross rue thy treason to me
|",
HIS dagger concealed for the stroke,
Morus stole Dionysius to slay;
"
I shrink not from death," he replied-
Not meanly imploring to live,
If I ask thee a respite to give :
I would fain see my sister a bride-
Three days let the sentence abide;
I will leave thee as hostage and bail
My friend ;-take his life if I fail.”
Brief-pausing, malignantly said
The king, and he smiled, "Let it be;
Three days I accord unto thee.
But mark-if the third should be sped,
And thou hast not returned,-in thy stead
The life of thy friend will be mine;
And I grant thee a pardon for thine."
And he came to his friend-" By decree
Of the king, whom I compass'd to slay,
i
163
}

164
POEMS AND BALIADS OF SCHILLER.
I must die on the cross! A delay
He vouchsafes to my sentence, days three,
That my sister a bride I may see;
If thou be my hostage till I
Return to release thee,-and die !"
With a silent embrace he has gone
To the tyrant, that friend the true-hearted;-
The other has straightway departed.
The dawn of the third day creeps on,
And the rites of the nuptials are done ;
And the pledge brooks no longer delay,
And his soul goads his step to the way.
Down the big rains unceasingly pour,
And the springs from the mountains are gush
ing,
And the streams into rivers are rushing.
And the wanderer has come to the shore:
Lost the bridge that had spanned it before-
As the breakers dash over and under
The arches that cruck to their thunder.
By the waters his passage is banned—
He shouts as he wanders around;
Not a human voice answers the sound.
No boat will put off from the strand,
To win through the wave to the land;
No pilot so hardy will be-
And the wild streum now swells to a sea!

THE HOST AGE.
On the margin he sinks, and he weeps,
And he raises his arms to the skies-
"O Jove, cloud-compeller," he cries,
"Stay the torrent-it swells and it sweeps.
Noon, noon !—if the sun gain the deeps,
And I reach not the city to free
My friend he will perish for me!"
T
And wider and wider it flows,
And billow the billow devours,
And the moments have sped into hours;
And despair its wild valor bestows,
And the whirling waves over him close,
And he cleaves with strong arm through the
waves,
And a God has compassion,--and saves.
He reaches, and flies o'er, the land,
And the God that delivered he blesses;
When out from the forest recesses
Springs a lawless and menacing band;
And the club arms each terrible hand-
Breathing murder, they bound on their prey,
And Death stands to block up the way.
165
What would ye ?" he cried, pale with fear;
No gold, to enrich you, I bring;
And my life I must take to the king!
I strike for a friend"--and he here
Snatched a club from the caitiff most near:
REGRET
SPINO
166
MALAKAZA
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And three of the foes did he slay-
Fled the rest,-free again is the way
Now the sun glows as fierce as a brand;
And weary and parched by the heat,
Flag at last,—flag and falter the feet :
“Hast thou saved me, O Heaven, from the slaugh-
ter,
Led me safe from the storms of the water,
For my own limbs their strength to deny ?
And my friend, O my friend, must he die!"
And hark, there it purls silver-clear!
Close at hand with its low-warbled gushes;
To listen, his breathing he hushes.
And, see from the rocks that rise near
Leaps the fountain that sang on the ear;
And his limbs in the fountain he laves,
And his strength is restored by the waves.
Through the boughs glints the sun's setting
ray;
All giant-like falls from the tree
The shadow it limns on the lea:
Two men in discourse pass his way,
And one to the other doth say,
As they rush like himself o'er the ground,
"Ere this to the Cross he is bound ""
:
!

AURKEZTU DESEN

•
THE HOSTAGE.
And his torture his vigor renews,
And despair wings the flying foot on,
And red in the fast-setting sun
Blaze thy domes from afar, Syracuse.
And now, as the path he pursues,
His steward, Philostratus, meets him;
With a shudder, the servant thus greets him
Back-back-thou canst rescue no more
The life of thy friend-save thine own.
For the moment appointed is flown.
While we speak, must his sentence be o'er- ·
Still sure of thy coming, he bore
The taunts of the tyrant unaltered;
And his trust in thy faith never faltered."
Too late! has it come to this end?
Too late, then, in life, if it be,
Haste, Death, and restore him to me.
No tyrant that union can rend—
Boast that friend breaks his faith to a friend'
Let him learn by two deaths, how above
Hi scepter, are Honor and Love!"
He has passed through the gates; sinks the
day;
And the cross rises dark from the ground,
And the crowd gathers. gazing, around;
And the cords to the cross lift its prey.
mamma spalio da zudem Pan Makati za kuwa, magama ja Akademie der Valk van beets, mantend
167
1
168
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Thorough crowd, thorough guard bursts his
way;
"Me! Doomsman," he cries-" me, alone'
That life is redeemed-take my own!"
Amaze hushed the multitude there;
Both friends are embracing again ;
Both weeping in joy and in pain—
And the crowd wept with them! To the king
The news and the marvel they bring;
And a human emotion comes o'er him,
And behold where the friends stand before him.
Admiring, he gazed-silent long-
Then spoke-"Noble Victors, depart!
Ye have stormed, ye have conquered, this
heart.
Truth is more than a dream and a song;
Pardon him who confesses his wrong;
Can the bond that unites you not be
Stretched wider ?-Oh, room, there for THREE!"
1 "Um des Freundes willen embarmet euch!" There is a strange
sort of humor in this line, which seems to me somewhat out of
place, and which it is impossible to translate literally without excit-
ing a sentiment of the ludicrous, hostile to the interest which, how-
ever familiar and simple, is still sufficiently serious.
NOTE.
This story, the heroes of which are more popularly known to us
ander the names of Damon and Pythias (or Phintias), Schiller took
from Hyginus, in whom the friends are Moorus and Selinuntius
Kattadt and
}
**
}
I
THE COMPLAINT OF CERES.
169
Schiller has somewhat amplified the incidents in the original, in
which the delay of Morus is occasioned only by the swollen stream
-the other hindrances are of Schiller's invention. The subject,
like "The Ring of Polycrates," does not admit of that rich poetry
of description with which our author usually adorns some single
passage in his narratives. The poetic spirit is rathor shown in the
terse brevity with which picture aftor 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 delay occasioned by the thirst of Morus is clearly open
to Goethe's objection, (an objection showing very nice perception
of nature)—that weariness from thirst was not likely to happen to
a man who had lately passed through a stream, on a rainy day, and
whose clothes must be saturated with moisture-nor, in the travel-
er'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 indi-
vidual character at all. He is the merc personation of Disbelief in
Truth and Lovo-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 high-
est form, is merely "Truth made beautiful.”
THE COMPLAINT OF CERES.
IT
It may be scarcely necessary to treat, however briefly, of the mytho-
logical legend on which this exquisite elegy is founded; yet we ven-
ture to do so rather than that the forgetfulness of the reader should
militato against his enjoyment of the poem. Proserpine, according
to the Homerida, (for the story is not without variation,) when guth-
ering flowers with the Ocean Nymphs, is carried off by Aidoneus, or
Pluto. Her mother, Ceres, wanders over the earth for her in vain
and refuses to return to Heaven till her daughter is restored te her
P


I
170 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Finally, Jupiter commissions Hermes to persuade Pluto to render up
his bride, who rejoins Ceres at Eleusis. Unfortunately she has swal-
lowed a pomegranate seed in the Shades below, and is thus mys-
teriously doomed to spend one-third of the year with her husband in
Hades, though for the remainder of the year the is permitted to
dwell with Ceres and the Gods. This is one of the very few myth-
ological fables of Greece which can be safely interpreted into an
Allegory. Proserpine denotes the sced-corn one-third of the year
below the earth; two-thirds (that is, dating from the appearance of
the ear) above it. Schiller has treated this story with admirablo
and artistic beauty; and, by an alteration in its symbolical charac
tor, has preserved the pathos of the external narrative, and hight-
ened the beauty of the interior meaning-associating the produc-
tive principle of the earth with the immortality of the soul.
Proserpine here is not the symbol of the buried seed, but the buried
seed is the symbol of her-that is, of the Dead. The exquisite
feeling of this poem consoled Schiller's friend, Sophia La Roche, in
her grief for her son's death.
I.
OES pleasant Spring return once more?
Does Earth her happy youth regain ?
Sweet suns green hills are shining o'er;
Soft brooklets burst their icy chain :
Glass'd on the blue translucent river
Laughs out the jocund cloudless day,
The winged west winds gently quiver,
The buds are bursting from the spray;
I hear the warbler on the tree;
I hear the Oread as before.
Again thy bloom comes back to thee—
Thy Child, sad Mothor, comes no more
KIT PREDVÉ MOTA MARIA
Cape gang bulat atat Matratze age open arrapata me mendje

+
{
THE COMPLAINT OF CERES.
Alas! how long an age it seems
Since all the Earth I wandered over,
And vainly, Titan, tasked thy beams,
My lov'd-my lost one-to discover!
Vainly thy rays around me fall;
II.
No ray reveals my Child to me.
The Sun, with eyes detecting all,
Is blind one vanished form to see.
Hast thou, O Zeus, hast thou away
From these sad arms my Daughter torn?
Has Pluto, from the realms of Day,
Enamored, to dark rivers borne ?
Who to the dismal Phantom-Strand
The Herald of my Grief will venture?
The Boat for ever leaves the Land,
KOM 25 Mart 22 23
III.
But only shadows there may enter.-
Shut from the Blessed, Death's abode,
The awful Night of fields forlorn ;
No living form, since first they flowed,
The ghastly Stygian waves have borne.
A thousand pathways wind the drear
Descent; none upward lead to day;
No witness to the Mother's ear
The Daughter's sorrows can betray
The
171
Puma Mes peqRUNT LA V
172 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
IV.
**

Mothers of happy Human clay
Can share at least their children's doom,
And when the loved ones pass away,
Can track-can join them-in the tomb!
The race alone of Heavenly birth
Are banished from the darksome portals;
The Fates have mercy on the Earth,
And death is only kind to mortals.
Oh, plunge me in the Night of Nights,
From Heaven's ambrosial halls exiled!
Oh, let the Goddess lose the rights
That shut the Mother from the Child!
V.
Where sits the Dark King's joyless bride,
Where midst the Dead her home is made,
Methinks my noiseless footsteps glide,
Amidst the shades myself a shade!
I see her eyes that, dim with tears,
Still vainly search through gloomy space,
Still seek the light that gilds the spheres,
And rest not on the Mother's face '
Till joy-O joy!-again she feels,
Clasped to my breast, the living ties !
And tearful pity softly steals
From Pluto's slow-relenting eyes.
1
**
Re

THE COMPLAINT OF CERES.
VI.
Vain dream-and vain lament!-Afar,
Calm in the changeless paths above,
Rolls on the Day-god's golden Car-
Fast are the fixed decrees of Jove
Disdainful from the gloomy Plain
He turns his blissful looks away.
Alas! Night never gives again
What once it seizes as its prey!
Till over Lethè's sullen swell,
Aurora's rosy hues shall glow;
And arching through the midmost Hell
Shine forth the lovely Iris-bow.
VII.
And is there naught of Her-no token-
No pledge from that beloved hand?
To tell how Love remains unbroken,
How far soever be the land?
Has love no link, no lightest thread,
The Mother to the Child to bind?
Between the Living and the Dead,
Can Hope no holy compact find?
No! every bond is not yet riven;
We are not yet divided wholly ;
To us the eternal Powers have given
A symbol language, sweet and holy.
12
1
173
}
=
174 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
VIII.
}

When Spring's fair children pass away,
When, in the Northwind's icy air,
The leaf and flower alike decay,
And leave the riveled branches bare,
Then from Vertumnus' lavish horn
I take Life's seeds to strew below-
And bid the gold that germs the corn
An offering to the Styx to go!
Sad in the earth the seeds I lay-
Laid at thy heart, my Child—to be
The mournful tokens which convey
My sorrow and my love to Thee!
IX.
But when the Hours, in measured dance,
The happy smile of Spring restore,
Rife in the Sun-god's golden glance
The buried Dead revive once more!
The germs that perished to thine eyes,
Within the cold breast of the earth,
Spring up to bloom in gentler skies,
The brighter for the second birth!
The stem its blossom rears above-
S
Its roots in Night's dark womb repose-
The plant but by the equal love
Of light and darkness fostered--grows!
t

**
*
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THE COMPLAINT OF CERES.
X.
If half with Death the germs may sleep,
Yet half with Life they share the beams;
My heralds from the dreary deep,
Soft voices from the solemn streams-
For them, like her, the dreary womb
Of Hades doth a while retain;
Yet Spring sends forth their tender bloom
With such swect messages again,
To tell,-how far from light above,
Where only mournful shadows meet,
Memory is still alive to love,
And still the faithful heart can beat!
XI.
Joy to ye, children of the Field!
Whose life each coming year renews,
To your sweet cups the Heaven shall yield
The purest of its nectar-dews!
Steeped in the light's resplendent streams,
The hues that streak the Iris-bow
Shall deck your, blooms as with the beams
The looks of young Aurora know.
The budding life of happy Spring,
The yellow Autumn's faded leaf,
Alike to gentle Hearts shall bring
The symbols of my joy and grief.
175
པོ་
星
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1
6
176
THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL.
&
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
"
THIS, originally called the "Burgher Lay," is one of the poems
which Schiller has devoted to his favorite subject-the Progress of
Society.
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2
I.
WIND
IND in a garland the ears of gold,
Let the Cyane's azure' inwoven be
Oh, how gladly shall eye behold
The Queen who comes in her majesty !
Man with man in communion mixing,
Taming the wild ones where she went;
Into the peace of the homestead fixing
Lawless bosom and shifting tent.2
II.
Darkly hid in cave and cleft
Shy, the Troglodyte abode;
Earth, was found a waste, and left
Where the wandering Nomad strode:
Deadly with the spear and shaft,
Prowled the Hunter through the land;
Woe the Stranger, waves may waft
On an over-fatal strand!
1
#
{
THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL.
ΠΙ,
Deserts frowned on Ceres, when
Searching for her ravished child
(No green culture smiling then),
O'er the drear coasts bleak and wild,
Never shelter did she gain,
Never friendly threshold trod;
All unbuilded then the Fane,
All unheeded then the God!
IV.
Not with golden corn-ears strewed
Were the ghastly altar stones;
Bleaching there, and gore-imbrued,
Lay the unhallowed human bones
Wide and far, where'er she roved,
Still reigned Misery over all;
And her mighty soul was moved
At Man's universal fall.
V.
What! can this be Man-to whom
Our own godlike form was given—
Likeness of the shapes that bloom
In the Garden-Mount of Heaven?
Was not Earth on Man bestowed?
Earth itself his kingly home!
Roams he through his bright abode
Homeless wheresoe'r he roam ?
1
177
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+
·
178 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
VI.
• Will no God vouchsafe to aid?-
None of the Celestial choir-
Lift the Demigod we made
From the slough and from the mire?
No. the grief, they ne'er have known,
Calmly the Celestials scan!
I-the Mother-I, alone
Have a heart that feels for Man!
VII.
L
Let-that Men to Man may soar-
Man and Earth with one another
Make a compact evermore-
Man the Son, and Earth the Mother.
Let their laws the Seasons show,
Time itself Man's teacher be;
And the sweet Moon moving slow
To the starry Melody !"
VIII.
Gently brightening from the cloud,
Round her image, vail-like thrown,
On the startled savage crowd
Lo the Goddess-glory shone '
Soft, the Goddess-glory stole
On their War-feast o'er the Dead;
Fierce hands offered her the bowl
With the blood of foemen red.
Im

THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL.
IX.
Loathing, turned the gentle Queen,
Loathing, shuddering, turned-and said
'Ne'er a Godhead's lips have been
With the food of tigers fed.
Offering pure that ne'er pollutes,
Be to purer Beings given,
Summer flowers and autumn fruits
Please the Family of Heaven."
X.
And the wrathful spear she takes
From the Hunter's savage hand;
With the shaft of Murder, breaks
Into furrows the light sand;
From her spiked wreath she singles
Out a golden seed of corn,
With the earth the germ she mingles,
And the mighty birth is born!
XI.
Robing now the rugged ground-
Glints the budding lively green,
Now a Golden Forest-round
Į
Pidg
Waves the mellow Harvest-sheen !-
And the Goddess blessed the Earth,
Bade the earliest sheaf be bound-
Chose the landmark for a hearth,
And serenely smiling round,
179
•
5
w
-
+
I

180 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XII.
Spoke in prayer-" O Father King
On thine Ether-Hill divine—
Take, O Zeus, this offering,
Let it soften Thee to thine!
From thy People's eyes-away,
Roll the vapor coiled below;
Let the Hearts untaught to pray
Learn the Father-God to know!"
XIII.
And his gentle Sister's prayer,
To the High Olympian came;
Thundering through a cloudless air
Flashed the consecrating Flame :—
On the holy sacrifice,
Bright the wreathëd lightnings leap ;
And in circles through the skies,
Doth the sacred Eagle sweep.
XIV.
Low at the feet of the great Queen, low³
Fall the crowd in a glad devotion;
First then, first the rude souls know
Human channels of sweet emotion---
Cast to the Earth is the gory spear,
Wakened a soft sense blind before;
Hush'd in delight, from her lips they hear
Mildest accents and wisest lore!
"
1
}

THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL.
XV.
Thither from their thrones descending,
All the Blest ones brightly draw;
Sceptered Themis, order-blending,
Metes the right and gives the law :*
Teaches each one to respect
What his Neighbor's landmarks girth;
Bids attesting Styx protect
What the mortal owns on earth.
XVI.
Hither limps the God, whom all
Life's inventive Arts obey,
Highly skilled is he to call
Shape from metal, use from clay'
Heave the bellows, rings the clamor
Of the heavy Anvil, now;
Fashioned from the Forge-God's hammer
O'er the Furrow speeds the Plow!
XVII.
And Minerva, towering proudly
Over all, with lifted spear,
Calls in accents ringing loudly,
O'er the millions far and near-"
Calls the scattered tribes around ;-
Soars the rampart-spreads the wall,
And the scattered tribes have found
Bulwark each, and union all!
181

1
1.
182
3
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XVIII.
Forth she leads her lordly train,
O'er the wide earth ;-and where'er
Prints her conquering step the plain,
Springs another Landmark there!
O'er the Hills her empire sweeps;
O'er their hights her chain she throws,
Stream that thundered to the deeps
Curbed in green banks, gently flows.
XIX.
Nymph and Oread, all who follow
The fleet-footed Forest-Queen,
O'er the hill, or through the hollow,
Swinging light their spears are seen,
To the toil in tumult streaming,
With a joyous signal call,
Now the lifted ax is gleaming,
Now the huge pines crashing fall!
XX.
At the hest of Jove's high daughter,
Heavy load and groaning raft.
O'er his green, reed-margined Water
Doth the River Genius waft.
In the work, glad hands have found,
Hour on hour, light-footed, flies,
From the rude trunk, smooth and round,
Till the polished mast arise!
}

Į
R
THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL.
XXI.
Up leaps now the Ocean God,
Riving ribbed Earth asunder;
With his wondrous Trident-rod ;-
And the granite falls in thunder.
High he swings the mighty blocks,
As an Infant swings a ball—
Helped by active Hermes, rocks
Heaped on rocks-construct the wall
XXII.
Then from golden strings set free
(Young Apollo's charmëd boon)
Triple flows the Harmony,
And the Measure, and the Tune!
With their ninefold symphonies
There the chiming Muses throng
Stone on stone the walls arise
To the Choral Music-song.
XXIII.
Firm the mighty portals stand,
Set by Cybele they are;
Firm the huge Lock's safety -band,
And the force-defying Bar.
Swiftly from those hands divine
Does the Wondrous City rise—
Bright, amidst it, stands the Shrine
In the pomp of sacrifice.
183
1
1
.

ALTAMON
184
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XXIV.
With a myrtle garland-there
Comes the Queen,' by Gods obeyed,
And she leads the Swain most fair
To the fairest Shepherd-maid!
Venus and her laughing Boy
Did that earliest pair array
All the Gods, with gifts of joy,
Blessed the earliest Marriage Day!
XXV.
Through the Hospitable Gate
Flock the City's new-born sons,
Marshaled in harmonious state
By that choir of Holy ones.
At the Altar-shrine of Jove
High-the Priestess Ceres stands
Folding, the mute Crowd above,
Blessed and all-blessing hands'
XXVI.
In the waste the Beast is free,
And the God upon his throne '
Unto each the curb must be
But the nature each doth own.
Yet the Man-(betwixt the two)
Must to man allied, belong;
Only Law and Custom through
Is the Mortal free and strong!"'
I
PERMISENFELSU ASHONALAZERIPA
AMERICAN S
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FENTIAE MENS
THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL.
XXVII.
Wind in a garland the ears of gold,
Let the Cyane's azure inwoven be;
Oh, how gladly shall eye behold
The Queen, who comes in her majesty!
Man to man in communion bringing,
.t
"1
1

Hers are the sweets of Home and Hearth,
Honor and praise, and hail her, singing,
"Hail to the Mother and Queen of Earth!"
the fable, to the sound of the Muses.
• Juno, the Goddess presiding over marriage.
185
The corn-flower.
2 This first strophe," observes Hoffmeister, "is opened by the
chorus of the whole festive assembly. A smaller chorus, or a single
narrator, passes then to the recitative, and traces the progress of
mankind through Agriculture.
3 Here the Full chorus chime in again.
The Art of Hus-
bandry once commenced, the chorus proceeds to deduce from it the
improvements of all social life.-HOFFMEISTER.
4 Property begins with the culture of the Earth, Law with
Property.
5 Vulcan. Then follow the technical Arts,
Now come the Arts of Polity.
7 This refers to the building of Troy.
8 A felicitous allusion to the Walls of Thebes, built, according to
"
1

DENTARZENYAKINLATANMARRAKELIENIE MEERIVADESASTRAMANINAGURA anlamda VORKORISTINAZIO
201502
186 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
PARABLES AND RIDDLES.
I.
A
BRIDGE from pearls its fabric weaves,
A gray sea arching proudly over;
A moment's toil the work achieves,
And on the hight behold it hover!
Beneath that arch securely go
The tallest barks that ride the seas,
That bridge may ne'er a burden know,
And ever as thou near'st it-flees!
First with the floods it comes, to fade
As streams again subsido away ;
Where is that arch of pearl surveyed?
And who the artist? can'st thou say?"
a The Rainbow.
II.
LEAGUE after league it hurrieth thee,
Yet never quits its place;
It hath no wings wherewith to flee,
Yet wafts thee over space!
It is the fleetest boat that e'er
The wildest wanderer bore:
As swift as thought itself to bear
From shore to farthest shore;
Tis here and there, and everywhere
Ere yet a moment's o'er !
The Sight, or perhaps Light.
FISERINGAMINTISALA LAGEREVERSOM
HITUSENADINES MISALNt adres NRESANGIA
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PARABLES AND RIDDLES.
IIII
4
O'ER a mighty pasture go,
Sheep in thousands, silver-white,
As to-day we see them, so
In the oldest grandsire's sight.
They drink (never waxing old)
Life from an unfailing brook;
There's a Shepherd to their fold,
With a silver-hornëd crook.
From a gate of gold let out,
Night by night he counts them over
Wide the field they rave about,
Never hath he lost a rover!
True the DOG, that helps to lead them,
One gay RAM in front we see;
What the Flock, and who doth heed them,
Sheep and Shepherd-tell to me!
• The Moon and Stars.
IV.
THERE IS a Mansion vast and fair,
That doth on unseen pillars rest;
No Wanderer leaves the portals there,
Yet each how brief a guest!
The craft by which that mansion rose,
No thought can picture to the soul ;
Tis lighted by a Lamp which throws
Its stately shimmer through the whole.
:

187
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​ORDREVENTION REVIEVING VAN ONS STATE
188
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
As crystal clear, it rears aloof
The single gem which forms its roof,
And never hath the eye surveyed
The Master who that Mansion made."
d The Earth and the Firmament.
V.
Up and down two buckets ply,
A single well within;
While the one comes full on high,
One the deeps must win;
Full or empty, never ending,
Rising now and now descending,
Always-while you quaff from this,
That one lost in the abyss,
From that well the waters living,
Never both together giving."
• Day and Night. It has also been interpreted as Youth and Age
or Past and Present.
VI.
CANST thou that picture name to me
Which gives itself the light and glow,
And ever changing momently,
As one clear perfect whole we know?
It lies within the smallest space,
The smallest framework forms its girth,
And yet that picture can embrace
The mightiest objects known on Earth :
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Canst thou to me that crystal name
(No gem can with its worth compare)
Which gives all light, and knows no flame;
Absorbed is all creation there ?—
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PARABLES AND RIDDLES.
That ring can in itself inclose
The loveliest hues that light the Heaven,
Yet from it light more lovely goes
Than all which to it can be given!
f The Eye.
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VII.
THERE standeth a Building which ages have tried,
It is not a dwelling, it is not a fane;
A hundred days round it the rider may ride,
And ride, if to compass its measure, in vain.
And years told in hundreds against it have striven,
By Time never sapp'd, and by Storm never bow'd,
Still sublimely it stands in the Rainbow of Heaven,
Reaching now to the Ocean and now to the
Cloud.
Not constructed a boast to vainglory to yield,
It serves as defender, to save and to shield :
And nowhere its like on the Earth is surveyed;
And yet by the labors of man it was made!
189
g The Wall of China,
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190 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
VIII.
AMIDST the Serpent Race is one
That Earth did never bear;
In speed and fury there be none
That can with it compare,
With fearful hiss-its prey to grasp
It darts its headlong force;
And locks in one destroying clasp
The Horseman and the Horse.
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It loves the loftiest hights to haunt---
No bolt its prey secures,
In vain its mail may Valor vaunt,
For steel its fury lures!
As slightest straw whirl'd by the wind,
It snaps the starkest tree;
It can the might of metal grind.
How hard soe'er it be !
Yet ne'er but once the monster tries
The prey it threats to gain,'
In its own wrath consumed it dies,
And while it slays is slain."
h Lightning.
IX.
SIX Sisters, from a wondrous pair,*
We take our common birth;
Our solemn Mother-dark as Care
Our Father bright as Mirth,
Its several virtue each bequeaths;
The soften'd shade--the merry glance;
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PARABLES AND RIDDLES.
RABLE
In endless youth, around thee wreathes
Our undulating dance!
We shun the darksome hollow cave,
And bask where daylight glows;
Our magic life to Nature gave
The soul her beauty knows.
Blithe messengers of Spring, we lead
Her jocund train,—we flee
The dreary chambers of the Dead,-
Where life is there are we!
To happiness essential things,
Where Man enjoys we live—
Whate'er the pomp that blazons kings,
'Tis ours the pomp to give! i
i The Colors.
X.
SAY what is that which, prized by few,
The hand of kings may grasp with pride,
Yet sharp to smite, and most unto
The sword itself allied.
It draws no blood, and yet doth wound;-
Makes rich, but ne'er with spoil;
It prints, as Earth it wanders round,
A blessing on the soil.
Though eldest cities it hath built-
Bade mightiest king doms rise, it
Ne'er fired to war, nor roused to guilt:
Weal to the states that prize it! *
The Plouwshare.
191
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PAIR DES MATINNA SIG XMASTOGHESE
192
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
XI.
IN a Dwelling of stone I conceal
My existence obscure and asleep;
But forth at the clash of the steel,
From my slumber exulting I leap!
At first, all too feeble for strife,
Thou hast but to breathe and I die;
A drop could extinguish my life—
But my wings soon expand to the sky!
Let the might of my Sister¹ afford
Its aid to those wings when unfurl'd,
And I grow to a terrible Lord,
Whose anger can ravage the world.'
1 Fire.
XII.
REVOLVING round a Disk I go,
One restless journey o'er and over;
The smallest field my wanderings know,
Thy hands the space could cover:
Yet many a thousand miles are past,
In circling round that field so narrow;
My speed outstrips the swiftest blast-
The strongest bowman's arrow !
The Shade on the Dial
XIII.
IT is a Bird-whose swiftness flees
Fast as an Eagle through the Air;
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THE MIGHT OF SONG.
It is a Fish-and cleaves the seas,
Which ne'er a mightier monster bear:
It is an Elephant, whose form
A tower's embattled pomp receives;
And now, all like the spider-worm,
It moves amid the webs it weaves !
It hath an iron fang; and where
That fang its grappled hold doth gain,
It roots its rock-like footing there,
And braves the baffled Hurricane."
193
n The Ship.
1 "Hat zwei mal nur gedroht." For nur should be read rie
2 Black and white Here Schiller adopts Goethe's theory of
Colors, and supposes that they are formed from the mixture of
Light and Darkness-i. e., the Children of Night and Day. In his
earlier poem of "The Artists," the noble image which concludes.
the Poem is taken from the different theory of Newton. According
to the former theory, the Colors are six in number-according to
the latter, seven.-HOFFMEISTER.
3 Viz.: The Air.
THE MIGHT OF SONG.
In the two Poems-"The Might of Song"-and that to which, in
the translation, we have given the paraphrastic title, "Honor to
Women," (Würde der Frauen,) are to be found those ideas which are
the well-streams of so much of Schiller's noblest inspiration:-1st, An
intense and religious conviction of the lofty character and sublime
ends of the true Poet. 2d, A clear sense of what is most lovely in
woman, and a chivalrous devotion to the virtues of which he rogai
her as the Personation and Prototype. It is these two articles in his
poetical creed which constitute Schiller so peculiarly the Poet of
Gentlemen-got the gentlemen of convention, but the gentlemen of
nature-that Aristocracy of feeling and sentiment which are the
da
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
flower of the social world; chivalrously inclined to whatever is most
elevated in Art-chivalrously inclined to whatever is most tender in
emotion. The Nobility of the North which Tacitus saw in its rude
infancy, has found in Schiller not only the voice of its mature
greatness, but the Ideal of its great essentials.
A
RAIN-FLOOD from the Mountain riven.
It leaps in thunder forth to day;
Before its rush the crags are driven,
The oaks uprooted whirl'd away '
Awed-yet in awe all wildly gladdning,
The startled wanderer halts below;
He hears the rock-born waters madd'ning.
Nor wits the source from whence they go,-
So stream from mystic Founts, along
Their earthly course, the Waves of Song!
Allied with those by whom is twined
The web of life, the Fatal Three,
Who can the singer's charm unbind?
Who can resist his melody?
He rules the soul his numbers spell
As with the wand to Hermes given :
Now steeps it shuddering in the hell,
Now lifts it breathless to the heaven-
By turns, as grave or gay prevail,
Rocked on Emotion's music-scale.
As, when in hours the least unclouded,
Portentous, strides upon the scene
Some Fate, before from wisdom shrouded
And awes the startled souls of Men---
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Before that Stranger from ANOTHER
Behold how THIS world's great ones bow,
Mean joys their idle clamor smother,
The mask is vanished from the brow—
And from Truth's conquering flag unfurled,
Fly all the Falsehoods of the World:
THE MIGHT OF SONG.
1
So, rapt aloft from earth and time,
With all the meaner sense inherits,
Man drops his load and soars sublime-
A spirit in the world of spirits:
He is as are the gods on high,
Naught earthly nears his nectar-hall,
Stilled is each lowlier sovereignty—
Not Fate itself on him can fall.
Smoothed are the wrinkled brows of Woe,
While song's enchanted numbers flow.
As some sweet mother's absent face
The pining truant child recalls,
And on her breast, with wild embrace,
And tears of fond repentance, falls-
So, to his childhood's home of old,
To joys that guileless youth restore;
Snatched from the formal world of art,
And warned at Nature's faithful heart.
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Song guides the wanderer back once more,
From lands afar and customs cold,
1
This somewhat obscure, but lofty comparison, by which Poetry
is likened to some Fate that rouses men from the vulgar littleness of
2
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sensual joy, levels all ranks for the moment, and appalls conventional
falsehoods with unlooked-for truth, Schiller had made, though in
rugged and somewhat bombastic prose, many years before-as far
back as the first appearance of "The Robbers."
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE MERCHANT.
WHE
HERE sails the ship?-It leads the Tyrian
forth
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For the rich amber of the liberal North
Be kind, ye seas-winds, lend your gentlest wing,
May in each creok, sweet wells restoring spring!—
To you, ye gods, belong the Merchant !—o’er
The waves, his sails the wide world's goods explore;
And, all the while, wherever waft the gales,
The wide world's good sails with him as he sails'
HONOR TO WOMEN.
(Literally, "Worth or Dignity of Women.")
ONOR to Women! to them it is given
HON
To garden the earth with the roses of Heaven!
They weave from sweet garlands the fetters of
love-
In the vail of the Graces their beauty concealing,
They feed, on each altar that's hallowed to Feoling.
The flame that is won from above!
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HONOR TO WOMEN.
From the bounds of Truth careering,
Man's strong spirit wildly sweeps,
With each hasty impulse veering,
R`cked on Passion's troubled deeps.
And his heart, contented never,
Greeds to grapple with the Far,
Chasing his own dream forever,
On through many a distant Star!
But Woman with looks that can charm and en-
chain,
Lureth back at her beck the wild truant again,
By the spell of the Present beguiled-
True Daughter of Nature, she loves not to roam,
But meekly with Nature forever at home,
By the Mother, still dwelleth the child.
Bruised and worn, but fiercely breasting,
Foe to foe, the angry strife,
Man, the Wild One, never resting,
Roves the troubled paths of life;
What he planneth, still undoing ;
Vainly as the Hydra bleeds,
Crest the sever'd crest renewing-
Wish to withered wish succeeds.
197
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. tnough his soul reigneth o'er
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The mighty dominion of Genius and Lore.
And the infinite Circle of Song.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
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.
Alive, as the wind-harp, how lightly soever
If wooed by the Zephyr, to music will quiver,
Is Woman to Hope and to Fear;
Ah, tender one! still at the shadow of grieving,
How quiver the chords-how thy bosom is heaving-
How trembles thy glance through the tear.
Man's dominion, war and labor;
Might to right the Statute gave;
Laws are in the Scythian's saber;
And the Persian sinks a slave!"
Peace and Meckness grimly routing,
Prowls the War-lust, rude and wild;
Eris rages, hoarsely shouting,
Where the vanished Graces smiled
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But Woman her throne by persuasion defends,
O'er the realm of the Mauners her scepter extends
Our strength she subdues to her will.
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THE WORDS OF BELIEF.
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All forces at war with each other she charms,
The discord she quenches, the hate she disarms;
Ever-binding what flies from her still!
199
1 The Scythian is here introduced as the emblem of rude force
and the Persian, of the servility produced by the conquest of force.
1
THE WORDS OF BELIEF.
THREE about
HREE Words will I name thee-around and
From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee;
But they had not their birth in the being without,
And the heart, not the lip, must their oracle be'
And all worth in the man shall forever be o'er
When in those Three Words he believes no more.
And VIRTUE is more than a shade or a sound,
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And Man may her voice, in this being, obey;
And though ever he slip on the stony ground,
Yet ever again to the godlike way,
ATT
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Man is free! by his chart of creation is free,
Though born amid fetters-still free-born the
same.
Whatever the roar of the rabble may be—
Whatever the frantic misuse of the claim-
It is not the freeman whose strength should appall,
'Tis the wrath of the slave when he bursts from his
thrall!
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To the science of Good though the Wise may be
blind,
Yet the practice is plain to the childlike mind."
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And high over space, over Time, is a God,
A will never rocking, like Man's, to and fro;
A thought that abides, though unseen the abode,
Inweaving with life its creations below;
Changing and shifting the All we inherit,
But changeless through all One Immutable Spirit.
Hold fast the Three Words of Belief-though
about
From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they
flee;
Pada tahap
Yet they take not their birth from the being with-
out
But a voice from within must their oracle be;
And never all worth in the Man can be o'er,
Till in those Three Words he believes no more.
1 The construction in these lines is obscure, from a brevity which
Is borrowed from the Latin. It has been generally translated, "Fear
not the slave when," &c., and so I translated it myself in the first edi
tion. But, on careful examination, the meaning seeins just the con-
trary:-
"Vor dem Sklaven, wenn er die Kette bricht,
Vor dem freien Menschen erzittert nicht."-i. e.,
"Erzittert vor dem Sklaven wenn er die Kette bricht;-nicht vor
dem freien Menschen."
2 So I conceive to be the true, though somewhat subtle, meaning of
the lines in the original.
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THE WORDS OF ERROR.
201
THE WORDS OF ERROR.
THREE Errors there are, that forever are found
On the lips of the good, on the lips of the best;
But empty their meaning and hollow their sound—
And slight is the comfort they bring to the
breast.
The fruits of existence escape from the clasp
Of the seeker who strives but those shadows to
grasp-
So long as Man dreams of some Age in this life
When the Right and the Good will all evil sub-
due;
For the Right and the Good lead us ever to strife,
And ever will Evil the conflict ro now.
Till thou lift it, and stifle aloft in the air,
The earth that it touches its strength will repair.'
So long as Man fancies that Fortune will live,
Like a bride with her lover, united with Worth;
For her favors, alas! to the mean she will give-
And Virtue possesses no title to earth!
That Foreigner wanders to regions afar,
Where the lands of her birthright immortally are
1
So long as Man dreams that, to mortals a gift.
The Truth in her fullness of splendor will shine
The vail of the goddess no earth-born may lift,²
And all we can learn is-to guess and divine'
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Dost thou seek, in a dogma, to prison her form?
The spirit flies forth on the wings of the storm!
O, Noble Soul! turn from delusions like these,
More heavenly belief be it thine to adore;
Where the Ear never hearkens, the Eye never sees,
Meet the rivers of Beauty and Truth evermore!
Not without thee the streams;-there the Dull seek
them ;-No!
Look within thee-behold both the fount and the
flow!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
This simile is nobly conceived, but expressed somewhat obscure-
ly. As IIercules contended in vain against Antaus, the Son of Earth,-
so long as the Earth gave her giant offspring new strength in every
fall, so the soul contends in vain with evil-the natural earth-born
enemy, while the very contact of the earth invigorates the enemy for
the struggle. And as Antæus was slain at last, when Hercules lifted
him from the earth, and strangled him when raised aloft, so can the
soul slay the enemy (the desire, the passion, the earth's offspring)
when bearing it from earth itself, and stifling it in the higher air,
2 See the "Vailed Image at Sais."
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GERMAN ART.
Y 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.
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TIIE WALK.
No, she went by Monarchs slighted—
Went unhonored, unrequited,
From high Frederick's throne;
Praise and Pride be all the greater,
That Man's genius did create her.
From Man's worth alone.
Hence to loftier springs ascending,
Hence to broader waves extending,
Our great German Song !
From its own fullness filled, it flows,
And scorning curbs its strength o'erthrows,
Rolls from the Heart along.
THE WALK
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203
Tins (excepting only "The Artists," written some years before) is
the most elaborate of those Poems which, classed under the name of
Culture-Historic, Schiller has devoted to the Progress of Civilization.
Schiller himself esteemed it amongst the greatest of the Poems he
had hitherto produced-and his friends, from Goethe to IIumboldt,
however divided in opinion as to the relativo merit of his other pieces,
agreed in extolling this one. It must be observed, however, that
Schiller had not then composed the narrative poems, which bear the
name of Ballads, and which are confessedly of a yet higher order-
Inasmuch as the Narrative, in itself, demands much higher merits than
the Didactic. It is also reasonably to be objected to all Schiller's
Poems of this Culture-Historic school, (may we be pardoned the use
of the German Barbarism,) that the leading idea of the Progress of
Civilization, however varied as to form in each, is essentially repeated
in all. Nor can we omit this occasion of inculcating one critical
Doctrine, which seems to us highly important, and to which the
theories of Schiller's intimate and over-refining friond, William Von
Humboldt, were strongly opposod. The object of Poetry, differing
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204 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Make &
essentially from that of abstract Wisdom, is not directly to address
the Reasoning faculty-but insensibly to rouse it through the popular
medium of the emotions. Science aims at Truth, and through
Truth may arrive at Beauty. Poetry or Art aims at Beauty, and
through Beauty it cannot fail to arrive at Truth. The fault of "The
Waik," of "The Artist,"-more than all, of "The Ideal and the
Actual Life," not to specify some other Poems, less elaborately
scholastic-i3, that they strain too much the faculty with which
Poetry has least to do, viz., the mere Reason. Poetry ought, it is
true, to bear aloft and to sustain the mind in a state of elevation-
but through the sentiment or the passion. It fails in something
when it demands a high degree of philosophy or knowledge in the
roader to admire-nay, to comprehend it. It ought not to ask a
prepared Audience, but to raise any audience it may address.
Milton takes the sublimest theme he can find-he adorns it with all
his stately genius, and his multiform learning; but, except in two
or three passages, (which are really defects in his great whole,) he
contrives to keep within reach of very ordinary understandings
Because the Poet is wise, he is not for that reason to demand
wisdom from his readers. In the Poem of "The Walk," it is only
after repeated readings that we can arrive at what seems to us its
great and distinctive purpose-apart from the mere recital of the
changes of the Social State. According to our notion, the purpose
is this the intimate and necessary connection between-Man-an&
Nature-the Social State and the Natural. The Poet commences
with the actual Landscape, he describes the scenery of his Walk:
Rural Life, viz.,-Nature in the Fields-suggests to him the picture
of the Early Pelasgian or Agricultural life-Nature is then the
Companion of Man. A sudden turn in the Landscape shows him.
the poplar avenues which in Germany conduct to cities. He beholds
the domes and towers of the distant Town-and this suggests to him
the alteration from the rural life to the civic-still Nature is his
guide. But in cities Man has ceased to be the companion of Nature
-he has become her Ruler (der Herrscher). In this altered
condition the Poet depicts the growth of Civilization, till he arrives
at the Invention of Printing. Light then breaks upon the Blind--
Man desires not only to be Lord of Nature, but to dispense with
her. "Instead of Necessity and Nature he would appoint Liberty
and Reason." Reason shouts f liberty-so do the Passions, and
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205
both burst from the wholesome control of Nature. Ho here refers
to the French Revolution, depicts with great vigor the dissolution
of all social ties, and, in the simile of the tiger escaping from its
bars to the wilderness, suggests the great truth, that it is only by a
return to Nature that he can regain his true liberty and redemption.….
Not, indeed, (as Hoffmeister truly observes,) the savage nature to
which Rousseau would reduce Man-that, Schiller was too wise to
dream of, and too virtuous to desire;-but that Nature which has
not more its generous liberty than its holy laws-that Nature
which is but the word for Law-God's Law. He would not lead
Man back to Nature in its infancy, but advance him to Nature in
its perfection. The moral Liberty of a well-ordered condition of
society is as different from the physical liberty lusted after by the
French Revolutionists, as (to borrow Cowley's fine thought) "the
solitude of a God from the solitude of a wild beast." And finally,
after this general association of Nature with Mankind, the Poet
awakens, as from a dream, to find himself individually aloue with
Nature, and concludes, in some of the happiest lines he over wrote,
by insisting on that eternal youthfulness of Nature, which links
itself with its companion Poetry. "The Sun of Homer smiles upon
as still." In the original German, the Poem is composed in the
long rhymeless meter, which no one has succeeded, or can succeed,
(with all respect to Professor Longfellow,) in rendering into English
melody. But, happily, the true beauty of the composition, like
most of Schiller's, (unlike most of Goethe's,) is independent of
form-consisting of ideas, not easily deprived of their effect, into
what mold soever they may be thrown.
In the above
remarks we have sought to remove the only drawback the general
reader may find, to the pleasure to be derived from the Poem in the
original-to lighten the weight upon his intellect, and define the
purpose of the design. As to execution, even in translation, the
sense of beauty must be dull in those who cannot perceive tho
exquisite merits of the preliminary description-the rapid vigor
with which what Herder called "the World of Scenes," shifts and
shimmers, and the grand divisions of Human History are scized
and outlined-and the noble reflections which, after losing himself
in the large interests of the multitude, Solitude forces upon the
Poet at the close.
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THE WALK.
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206
HALL hail!
AIL, mine own hill-ye bright'ning hill-tops,
Hail, sun, that gild'st them with thy looks of love.
Sweet fields!-ye lindens, murmuring to the gale!
And ye gay choristers the boughs above!
And thou, the Blue Immeasurable CALM,
O'er mount and forest, motionless and bright,—
Thine airs breathe through me their reviving balm,
And the heart strengthens as it drinks thy light'
Thou gracious Heaven! man's prison-home I flee—
Loused from the babbling world, my soul leaps up
to thee!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Flowers of all hue are struggling into glow,
Along the blooming fields; yet their sweet strife
Melts into one harmonious concord. Lo,
The meads allure me where, through tenderest
green,
Winds the still rural path !—The laboring bee
Hums round me; and on hesitating wing
O'er beds of purple clover quiveringly
Hovers the butterfly.-Save these, all life
Sleeps in the glowing sunlight's arrowy sheen—
Ev'n from the west, the airs no zephyr bring,
Halk-in the calm aloft, I hear the skylark sing.
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The thicket rustles near;- the alders bow
Down their green coronals—and as I pass,
Waves, in the rising wind, the silvering grass.
Me an ambrosial night embraces now,
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THE WALK.
Beneath the roof by shadowy beeches made,
Cool-breathing! Lost the gentler landscape's
bloom!
And as the path mounts, snake-like, through the
shade,
207
Deep woods close round me with mysterious gloom:
Still, through the trellis-leaves, at stolen whiles,
Glints the stray beam, or the meek azure smiles.
Apruptly now the gentle vail is riven—
And the glade opening, with a sudden glare,
Lets in the blinding day! Before me, heaven
With all its Far-Unbounded!--one blue hill
Ending the gradual world-in vapor !
me-
Where
I stand upon the mountain-summit, lo,
As sink its sides precipitous before me,
The stream's smooth waves in flying crystal flow
Through the calm vale beneath. Wide Ether o'er
Beneath, alike, wide Ether endless still!
Dizzy, I gaze aloft-shuddering, I look below!
A railed path betwixt the eternal hight—
And the eternal deop allures me on.
Still, as I pass—all laughing in delight,
The rich shores glide, and trophies labor-won
Deck the proud vale, and glory in the sun.
Each varying landmark that the soil receives,
Broidering the vail the social Ceres weaves.
Hedge-row and bound--those friendly scrolls of
Law,-
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
That Man-sustaining guardian since the time
When the old Brazen Age, in sadness saw
Love fly the world!
Now, through the harmonious meads
One glimmering path, or lost in forests, leads,
Or up the winding hill doth laboring climb—
The highway link of lands dissever'd ;-glide
The quiet rafts adown the placid tide;
And through the lively fields, heard faintly, goes
The many sheep-bells' music-and the song
Of the lone herdsman, from its vex'd repose,
Rouses the gentle echo !-Calm, along
The stream, gay hamlets crown the pastoral scene,
Or peep through distant glades, or from the hill
Hang dizzy down! Man and the Soil serene
Dwell neighborlike together-and the still
Meadow sleeps peaceful round the rural door—
And, all-familiar, wreathes and clusters o'er
The lowly casement, the green bough's embrace,
As with a loving arm, clasping the gentle place '
O happy People of the Fields, not yet
Waken'd to freedom from the gentle will
Of the mild Nature, still content to share
With your own fields earth's elementary law!
Calm harvests to calm hopes the boundary set,
And peaceful as your daily labor, there,
Creep on your careless lives!
1
}
•
But ah! what steals
Between me and the scenes I lately saw-
A stranger spirit a strange world reveals,
A
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?
THE WALK.
A world with method, ranks, and orders rife
And rends the simple unity of life.
The vista'd Poplars in their long array
The measured pomp of social forms betray.
That stately train proclaims the Ruler nigh ;*
And now the bright domes glitter to the sky,
And now from out the rocky kernel flowers
The haughty CITY, with its thousand towers!
8
Yet though the Fauns' back to their wilds have
flown,
209
Devotion lends them loftier life in stone.
Man with his fellow-man more closely bound-
The world without begirts and cramps him round;
But in that world within the widening soul,
The unpausing wheels in swifter orbits roll.
See how the iron powers of thoughtful skill
Are shaped and quicken'd by the fire of strife;
Through contest great-through union greater
V
M
still.
To thousand hands a single soul gives life-
In thousand breasts a single heart is beating—
Beats for the country of the common cause—
Beats for the old hereditary laws-
And ground endeared and hallowed by the Dead.
And now the gods descend, benignly greeting
With glorious gifts the ring in which they tread;
Ceres, the plow-the anchor; Mercury-
Bacchus, the grape-the Sovereign of the sea,
The horse ;—the olive brings the Blue-eyed Maid-
Cybele, tower-crown'd, yckes her lion-car,
L
↓
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2

210 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Entering in peace the hospitable gate-
A Goddess-Citizen!
All-blest ye are,
Ye Solemn Monuments !-from state to state
Ye sent the founders of Humanity.
Bloom on Far Isles the manners and the arts.
wah penta, che prompt de p
In simple courts the Patriarchal Wise
By social Gates adjudge the unpurchased right."
To deathless fields the ardent hero flies,
To o guard the hearths that sanctify the fight;
And women from the walls, with anxious hearts
Beating beneath the infants nestled there,
Watch the devoted band, till from their eyes,
In the far space, the steel-clad pageant dies-
Then, falling by the altars, pour the prayer,
Fit for the gods to hear-that worth may earn
The fame which crowns brave souls that conquer,
and-return!
And fame was yours and conquest!-yet alone
Fame-and not life return'd: your deeds are
known
8
In words that kindle glory from the stone.
"Toll Sparta, we, whose record meets thine eye,
Obey'd the Spartan laws-and hore we lie!"
Sleep soft!-your blood bedews the Olive's bloom,
Peace sows its harvests in the Patriot's tomb,
And Trade's great intercourse at once is known
Where Freedom guards what Labor makes its
own.
The azure River-God his watery fields
A
1
Ka
Late anak na akong maging N
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}

THE WALK.
211
Lends to the raft; her home the Dryad yields.
Down falls the huge oak with a thunder groan ;
Wing'd by the lever soars the quickening stone;
Up from the shaft the diving Miner brings
The metal-mass with which the anvil rings,
Anvil and hammer keeping measured time
As the steel sparkles with each heavy chime :-
The bright web round the dancing spindle gleams;
Safe guides the Pilot, through the world of streams,
The ships that interchange, where'er they roam.
The wealth of earth-the industry of home;
High from the mast the garland-banner waves.
The Sail bears life upon the wind it braves;
Life grows and multiplies where life resorts,
Life crowds the Marts-life bustles through the
Ports,
And many a language the broad streets within
Blends on the wondering Ear the Babel and the din.
And all the harvests of all earth, whate'er
Hot Afric nurtures in its lurid air,
Or Araby, the blest one of the Wild,
Or the Sea's lonely and abandoned child,
Uttermost Thulè,-to one mart are borne,
And the rich plenty brims star'd Amalthæa's horn.
The nobler, Genius prospers with the rest:
Art draws its aliment from Freedom's breast;
Flushed into life, the pictured Image breaks,
Waked by the chisel, Stone takes soul and speaks'
On slender Shafts a Heaven of Art reposes,
And all Olympus one bright Dome incloses.
;
11
212
1

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Light as aloft we see the Iris spring,
Light as the arrow flying from the string,
O'er the wide river, rushing to the Deep,
The lithe bridge boundeth with its airy leap.
But all the while, best pleased apart to dwell,
Sits musing Science in its noiseless cell;
Draws meaning circles, and with patient mind
Steals to the Spirit that the whole designed;
Gropes through the Realm of Matter for its Laws,
Learns where the Magnet or repels or draws,
Follows the sound along the air, and flies
After the lightning through the pathless skies,
Seeks, through dark Chance's wonder-teeming
maze,
The Guiding Law which regulates and sways,
Seeks, through the shifting, evanescent shows,
The Central Principle's serene repose.
Now shape and voice—the immaterial Thought
Takes from th' invented speaking page sublime,
The Ark which Mind has for its refuge wrought,
Its floating Archive down the floods of Time!
Rent from the startled gaze the vail of Night,
O'er old delusions streams the dawning light:-
Man breaks his bonds-ah, blest could he refrain,
Free from the curb, to scorn alike the rein :
"Freedom!" shouts Reason, "Freedom!" wild
Desire-
And light to Wisdom is to Passion Fire.
1
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2
5
THE WALK.
From Nature's check bursts forth one hurtling
swarm-
Ah snaps the anchor, as descends the storm!
The sea runs mountains-vanishes the shore,
The mastless wreck drifts endless ocean o'er;
Lost, Faith ;—man's polar Star!-naught seems to
KAPLA
rest,
The Heart's God, Conscience, darkens from the
breast-
213
Truth flies from language, and from life, belief;
The oath itself rots blighted to a lie,
On love's most solemn secrets, on the grief
Or joy that knits the Heart's familiar tie-
Intrudes the Sycophant, and glares the spy.
Suspected friendship from the soul is rent,
The hungry treason snares the Innocent—
With rabid slaver, and devouring fangs,
Fast on his prey the murderous slanderer hangs-
Shame from the reason and the heart effaced,
The thought is abject, and the love debased:
Deceit O Truth, thy holy features steals-
Watches emotion in its candid course-
Betrays what Mirth unconsciously reveals,
And desecrates Man's nature at its source;
And yet the Tribune justice can debate-
And yet the Cot of tranquil Union prate-
And yet a specter which they call the Law,
Stands by the Kingly throne, the crowd to awe!
For years for centuries, may the mummies there
Mock the warm life whose lying shape they weal,
PENDAN
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in
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Mangan pa sa po
214
Till Nature once more from her sleep awake-
Till to the dust the hollow fabric shake
Beneath your hands-Avenging Powers Sublime,
Your heavy iron hands, NECESSITY and TIME!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Then, as some Tigress from the grated bar,
Bursts sudden, mindful of her wastes afar,
Deep in Numidian glooms-Humanity,
Fierce in the wrath of wretchedness and crime,
Forth from the City's blazing ashes breaks,
And the lost Nature it has pined for seeks.
Open, ye walls, and let the prisoner free!—
Safe to forsaken fields, bark let the wild one flee!
But where am I—and whither would I stray?
The path is lost-the cloud-capt mountain-dome,
The rent abyss, appall the dizzy sense,
Behind, before me! Far and far away,
Garden and hedgerow, the sweet Company
Of Fields, familiar speaking of man's home!-
Yea, every trace of man-deserts the eye.
Only the raw eternal MATTER, whence
Life buds, towers round me-the gray basalt stone,
Virgin of human art, stands motionless and lone.
Roaringly, through the rocky cleft, and under
Gnarl'd roots of trees, the torrent sweeps in thun-
der-
A
Savage the scene, and desolate and bare-
Lo! where the eagle, his calm wings unfurled,
Lone-halting in the solitary air,

THE WALK.
Knits" to the vault of heaven this ball-the world!
And not a wind upon its pinion bears
One breath that speaks of human joys and cares.
Am I indeed alone, amidst thy charms,
215
O Nature-clasped once more within thine arms?
I dreamed-and wake upon thy heart!-escaped
From the dark phantoms which my Fancy shaped
And every shape of human strife and woe
Sinks with the vapors to the vale below!
Purer I take my life from thy pure shrine,
Sweet Nature-gladlier comes again to me
The heart and hope of my lost youth divine'
Both end and means, eternally our will
Varies and changes, and our acts are still
The repetitions, multiplied and stale,
Of what have been before us. But with THEE
One ancient law, that will not wane or fail,
Keeps beauty vernal in the bloom of truth!
Ever the same, thou hoardest for the man
What to thy hands the infant or the youth
Trusted familiar; and since Time began,
Thy breasts have nurtured, with impartial love,
The many-changing ages!
Look above,
Around, below;-beneath the self-same blue,
Over the self-same green, eternally,
(Let man s slight changes wither as they will,)
All races which the wide world over knew,
United, wander brother-liko!-Ah! see,
THE SUN OF HOMER SMILES UPON US STILL!
đ
216
3

'POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
1 Freedom is here in antithesis to Nature.
2 Here the Poet (after a slight and passing association of Man's
more primitive state with the rural landscape beforo him) catches
sight of the distant city; and, proceeding to idealize what he thus
surveys, brings before the reader, in a series of striking and rapid
images, the progressive changes of Civilization.-See PRELIMINARY
REMARKS.
3 In Germany, avenues of poplar form the usual approach to a
city.
The Fauns bere are meant generally to denote all the early
rural gods-the primitive Deities of Italy.
5 Alluding to the ancient custom of administering Law in the
open places near the town gates.
Herodotus. The celebrated epitaph on the Spartan tumulus al
Thermopyla.
•
7 Knits-Knupft. What a sublime image is conveyed in that sin
gle word!
THE LAY OF THE BELL.
"Vivos voco-Mortuos plango-Fulgura frango." 1
I.
FAST,
AST, in its prison-walls of earth,
Awaits the mold of baked clay.
Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth—
THE BELL that shall be born to-day!
But with sweat and with pain
Can we honor obtain,
And prove that we master the a. we profess;
With Man be the effort, with Hea.. the success
THE LAY OF THE BELL.
And well an earnest word beseems
The work the earnest hand prepares;
Its load more light the labor deems.
When sweet discourse the labor shares.
So let us duly ponder all
The works our feeble strength achieves,
For mean, in truth, the man we call,
Who ne'er what he completes conceives.
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.
II.
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 which feeds the Bell
May flow in the right course glib and well.
Deep hid within this nether cell,
What force with fire is molding thus,
In yonder airy tower shall dwell,
And witness far and wide of us!
It shall, in later days, unfailing,
Rouse many an ear to rapt emotion;
217
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1
7
i
W
17
218
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Its solemn voice, with Sorrow wailing,
Or choral chiming to Devotion.
Whatever Fate to Man may bring,
Whatever weal or woe befall,
Ihat metal tongue shall backward ring
The warning moral drawn from all.
III.
See the silvery bubbles spring!
Good! the mass is melting now!
Let the salts we duly bring
Purge the flood, and speed the flow.
From the dross and the scum,
Pure, the fusion must come;
For perfect and pure we the metal must keep,
That its voice may be perfect, and pure, and deep
That voice, with merry music rife,
The cherished child shall welcome in;
What time the rosy dreams of life,
In the first slumber's arms begin.
As yet in Time's dark womb unwarning,
Repose the days, or foul or fair;
And watchful o'er that golden morning,
The Mother-Love's untiring care
1
}
Ana swift the years like arrows fly-
No more with girls content to play.
Bounds the proud Boy upon his way,
**


THE LAY OF THE BELL.
Storms through loud life's tumultuous pleasures,
With pilgrim staff the wide world measures;
And, wearied with the wish to roam,
Seeks, stranger-like, the Father-Home.
And lo, as some sweet vision breaks
Out from its native morning skies,
With rosy shame on downcast cheeks,
The Virgin stands before his eyes.
A nameless longing seizes him!
From all his wild companions flown;
Tears, strange till then, his eyes bedim
He wanders, all alone.
;
Blushing, he glides where'er she move;
Her greeting can transport him ;
To every mead, to deck his love,
The happy wild-flowers court him!
Sweet Hope-and tender Longing—ye
The growth of Life's first Age of Gold;
When the heart, swelling, seems to see
The gates of heaven unfold;
Oh, were it ever green! Oh, stay,
Linger, young Love, Life's blooming May!
219
IV.
Browning o'er, the pipes are simmering,
Dip this wand of clay within;
If like glass the wand be glimmering,
Then the casting may begin.
Brisk, brisk now, and see
If the fusion flow free:

}
1
220
If (happy and welcome indeed were the sign!)
If the hard and the ductile united combine.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
For still where the strong is betrothed to the weak
And the stern in sweet marriage is blent with the
meek,
Rings the concord harmonious, both tender and
strong:
So heed, oh heed well, ere forever united,
That the heart to the heart flow in one, love-de-
lighted;
Illusion is brief, but Repentance is long!
Lovely, thither are they bringing,
With her virgin wreath, the Bride!
To the love-feast clearly ringing,
Tolls the church-bell far and wide!
With that sweetest holyday,
Must the May of Life depart;
With the cestus loosed-away
Flies ILLUSION from the heart!
Yet Love must be cherished
Though Passion be mute;
If his blossoms be perished,
They yield to the fruit.
The Husband must enter
The hostile life,
With struggle and strife,
To plant or to watch,
To snare or to snatch,

r
THE LAY OF THE BELL.
To pray and importune,
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 center.
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 coinmand,
And a diligent hand
Employed she employs;
221
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
dwelling;
And she hoards in the presses, well polished and
full,
g
The snow of the linen, the shine of the wool;
Still intent upon use, while providing for show,
And never a rest from her cares doth she know.
Blithe the Master (where the while
From his roof he sees them smile)
}
15
222
Kapting pan de Kattaka maty
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Nakon na ky mom anɔis ma
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Eyes the lands, 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,
And sees unmoved the stormy shock
Of waves that fret below!"
Alas for never mortal state
Can form perpetual truce with Fate!
Swift are the steps of Woe.
V.
Now the casting may begin;
See the breach indented there;
Ere we run the fusion in,
Halt and speed the pious prayer!
Pull the plug out-
See around and about
Through the bow of the handle the smoke rushes
red.
God help us!-the flaming waves burst from their
bed.
What friend is like the might of fire,
When man can watch and wield the ire ?
Whate'er we shape or work, we owe
.

THE LAY OF THE BELL.
Stili 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 from 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 Elements hate
What man's labors create,
And the works 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 leven, the bolt, and the ball
Hark-a wail from the steeple !-aloud
The bell shrills its voice to the crowd:
Look-look-red as blood
plakat, polji
223
All on high;
It is not the daylight that fills with its tod
The sky!
What a clamor awaking
Roars up through the street;
What a hell-vapor breaking
Rolls on through the street,
And higher and higher
Aloft moves the Column of Fire
ง

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224
>

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER,
Through the vistas and rows
Like a whirlwind it goes,
And the air like the steam from a furnace
glows.
Beams are crackling-posts are shrinking-
Walls are sinking-windows clinking-
Children crying-
Mothers flying-
And the beast (the black ruin yet smoldering
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 down comes the storm with a roar!
And it chases the flames as they soar.
To the grain and the fruits,
Through the rafters and beams,
Through the barns and the garners it crackles and
streams!
As if they would rend up the earth from its roots,
Rush the flames to the sky
Giant-high;
And at length,
Wearied out and despairing, man bows to their
strength!
*
1

THE LAY OF THE BELL.
With an idle gaze sees their wrath consume,
And submits to his doom!
Desolate
The place, and dread;
For storms the barren bed.
In the blank voids that cheerful casements 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 look of grief upon the grave
Of all that Fortune gave,
225
The lingerer casts-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,
Not one dear look is missing from that store!
VI.
Now clasped the bell within the clay-
The mold the mingled metals fill-
Oh, may it, sparkling into day,
Reward the labor and the skill!
Alas! should it fail,
For the mold may be frail-
And still with our hope must be mingled the foar--
And, ev'n now, while we speak, the mishap may be
near!
f
226
:

1
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
To the dark womb of sacred earth
This labor of our hands is given,
As seeds that wait the second birth
And turn to blessings watched by heaven
Ah, seeds, how dearer far than they
We bury in the dismal tomb,
Where Hope and Sorrow bend to pray
That suns beyond the realm of day
May warm them into bloom!
From the steeple
Tolls the bell,
#
Deep and heavy,
The death-knell !
Guiding with dirge note-solemn, sad, and slow,
To the last home earth's weary wanderers know.
It is that worshiped wife—
It is that faithful mother!"
Whom the dark Prince of Shadows leads benighted
From that dear arm where oft she hung delighted
Far from those blithe companions, born
Of her, and blooming in their morn;
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!
•
}
1
'
THE LAY OF THE BELL.
How oft they miss that tender guide,
The care-the watch-the face-the MOTHER-
And where she sat the babes beside.
Sits with unloving looks-ANOTHER!
VII.
$
While the mass is cooling now,
Let the weary labor rest;
Blithe as bird upon the bough,
Each to do as lists him best.
In the cool starry time,
At the sweet vesper-chime,
The workman his task and his travail foregoes--
It is only the Master that ne'er may repose!
Homeward from the tasks of day,
Through the greenwood's welcome way,
Wends the wanderer, light and cheerly,
To the cottage loved so dearly!
And the eye and ear are meeting,
Now, the slow sheep homeward bleating-
Now, the wonted shelter near,
Lowing the lusty-fronted steer;
Creaking now the heavy wain
Reels with the happy harvest grain.
While, with many-colored leaves.
Glitters the garland on the sheaves;
For the mower's work is done,
And the young folks' dance begun!
227
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228
7
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
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!
Now darkness is spreading:
Now quenched is the light;
But the Burgher, undreading,
Looks safe on the night-
Which the evil man watches in awe,
For the eye of the Night is the Law!
Bliss-dowered! O 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.
And, in his hut thy presence stealing,
Roused each familiar household feeling;
And, best of all the happy ties,
The center of the social band,-
The Instinct of the Fatherland!
United thus-each helping each,
Brisk work the countless hands forever!
For naught its power to Strength can teach
Like Emulation and Endeavor!
Thus linked the master with the man,

THE LAY OF THE BELL.
Each in his rights can each revere,
And while they march in freedom's van,
Scorn the lewd rout that dogs the rear!
To freemen labor 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:
229
And where,
Now the sweet neaven, when day doth leave
The air,
Limns its soft rose-hues on the vail of Eve;
Shall the fierce war-brand tossing in the gale,
From town and hamlet shake the horrent glare
VIII.
Now, its destined task fulfilled,
Asunder break the prison-mold;
Let the goodly Bell we build,
Eye and heart alike behold.
The hammer down heave,
Till the cover it cleave :—
For not till we shatter the wall of its cell
Can we lift from its darkness and bondage the Bell.
*
}
>

I
230
-POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
To break the mold, the Master may,
If skilled the hand and ripe the hour;
But woe, when on its fiery way
The metal seeks itself to pour.
Frantic and blind, with thunder-knell,
Exploding from its shattered home,
And glaring forth, as from a hell,
Behold the red Destruction come!
When rages strength that has no reason,
There breaks the mold 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 from their thrall the Millions start,
No leader but their rage to 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.
Rush 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;
From human breasts the hearts they tear-
As panthers rend their prey!
Naught rests to hallow;-burst the ties
Of Shame's religious, noble awe;
JRA MASA TERRAMIKA LOIREANNE OS
Cig di chi ya Mtang JERALINIALNIZ
MMENTS & MORENG,
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1
}
Before the Vice the Virtue flies,
And Universal Crime is Law;
Man fears the lion's kingly tread;
Man fears the tiger's fangs of terror;
But Man himself is most to dread,
When mad with social error.
THE LAY OF THE BELL.
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'
Rejoice and laud the prospering skies!
The kernel bursts its husks-behold
From the dull clay the metal rise,
Pure-shining, as a star of gold!
Rim and crown glitter bright,
Like the sun's flash of light.
And even the scutcheon, clear-graven, shall tell
That the art of a master has fashioned the Bell
*
IX.
Come in-come in,
My merry men--we'll form a ring,
The new-born labor 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),
Pasta Franja V
231
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232
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
In blue pavilioned heaven afar
To dwell-the Neighbor of the Thunder,
The Borderer of the Star!
Be hers above a voice to raise
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,
Touching, with every movement, Time!
No pulse-no heart—no feeling hers,
She lends the warning voice to Fate;
And still companions, while she stirs
The changes of the Human State .
So may she teach us, as her tone,
But now so mighty, melts away—
That earth no life which earth has known
From the last silence can delay.
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-upward-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 B
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15 RÉG

1
THE LAY OF THE BELL.
I "I call the Living-I mourn the Dead-I break the Lightning."
These words are inscribed on the Great Bell of the Minster 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.
2 A piece of clay pipe which becomes vitrified if the metal is suffl-
ciently heated.
3 Paraphrased
"Und fuget zum Guten den Glanz und den Schimmer."
"Zum Guten" here means "to the useful."
233
1
་་
4 The Translator adheres to the original, in forsaking the rhyme
in these lines and some others.
5 Written in the time of the French war.
NOTE.
IN "The Walk" we have seen the progress of Society-in "The
Bell" we have the lay of the Life of Man. This is the crowning
Flower of that garland of Humanity, which, in his Culture-His-
toric poems, the hand of Schiller has entwined. In England, "The
Lay of the Bell" has been the best known of the Poet's composi-
tions-out of the Drama. It has been the favorite subject selected
by his translators; to say nothing of others (more recent, but with
which we own we are unacquainted), the elegant version of Lord
Francis Egerton (now Earl of Ellesmere), has long since familiarized
its beauties to the English public; and had it been possible to omit
from our collection a poem of such importance, we would willingly
have declined the task which suggests comparisons disadvantageous
to ourselves. The idea of this poem had long been revolved by Schil-
ler. He went often to a bell-foundry, to make himself thorough y
acquainted with the mechanical process, which he has applied to
purposes so ideal, Even from the time in which he began the actual
composition of the poem, two years elapsed before it was completed.
The work profited by the delay; and as the Poet is generally clear
in proportion to his entire familiarity with his own design, so of all
Schiller's moral poems this is the most intelligible to the ordinary
understanding; perhaps the more so, because, as one of his Cora
*See Life of Schiller, by Madame Von Wolzogen.
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234 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
More poten
mentators has remarked, the principal ideas and images he has
already expressed in his provious writings, and his mind was thus
free to give itself up more to the form than to the thought. Still we
think that the symmetry and oneness of the composition have been
Indiscriminately panegyrized. As the Lay of Life. it begins with
Birth, and when it arrives at Death, it has reached its legitimate
conclusion. The reader will observe, at the seventh strophe, that
there is an abrupt and final break in the individual interest which
has hitherto connected the several portions. Till then, he has had
before him the prominent figure of a single man-the one represent-
ative of hunan life-whose baptism the Bell has celebrated, whose
youth, wanderings, return to his father's house, love, marriage, pros-
perity, misfortunes, to the death of the wife, have carried on the
progress of the Poem; and this leading figure then recedes altogether
from the scene, and the remainder of the Poem, till the ninth stanza,
losing sight altogether of individual life, merely repeats the pur-
pose of "The Walk," and confounds itself in illustrations of social
life in general. The picture of the French Revolution, though ad-
mirably done, is really not only an episode in the main design, but is
merely a copy of that already painted, and set in its proper place, in
the IIistorical Poem of "The Walk."
•
But whatever weight may be attached-whether to this objection,
or to others which we have scen elsewhere urged-the "non Ego
paucis offendar maculis" may, indeed, be well applied to a Poem so
replete with the highest excellences-80 original in conception-so
full of pathos, spirit, and variety in its plan--and so complete in its
mastery over form and language.
Much of its beauty must escape in translation, even if an English
Schiller were himself the translator. For that beauty which be-
longs to form-the "curiosa felicitas verborum"-is always untrans-
latable. Witness the Odes of Horace, the greater part of Goethe's
Lyrics, and the Choruses of Sophocles. Though the life of Man is
portrayed, it is the life of a Germun man. The wanderings, or ap-
prenticeship of the youth, are not a familiar feature in our own
civilization; the bustling housewife is peculiarly German; so is the
incident of the fire-a misfortune very common in parts of Germany,
and which the sound of the church bell proclaims. Thus that pecu-
liar charm which belongs to the recognition of familiar and house-
hold imagos, in an ideal and poetic form, must be in a great measure
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THE POETRY OF LIFE.
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lost to a foreigner. The thought, too, at the end-the prayer for
Peace is of a local and temporary nature. It breathed the wish of
all Germany, during the four years' war with France, and was, at
the date of publication-like all temporary allusions-a strong and
effective close, to become, after the interest of the allusion ceased,
comparatively feeble. These latter observations are made, not in
depreciation of the Poem, but on behalf of it; to show that it has
beauties peculiar to the language it was written in, the people it ad-
dressed, and the date of its first appearance, of which it must be de
spoiled in translation.
THE POETRY OF LIFE.
235
"WHO
HO would himself with shadows entertain,
Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain,
Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true?—
Though with my dream my heaven should be re-
signed-
Though the free-pinioned soul that once could
dwell
In the large empire of the Possible,
This work-day life with iron chains may bind,
Yet thus the mastery o'er ourselves we find,
And solemn duty to our acts decreed,
Meets us thus tutored in the hour of need,
With a more sober and submissive mind'
How front Necessity-yet bid thy youth
Shun the mild rule of life's calm sovereign, Truth?
So speak'st thou, friend, how stronger far than I,
As from Experience-that suro port serene-
We
1
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236
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Thou look'st; and straight, a coldness wraps the
sky,
The summer glory withers from the scene,
Scared by the solemn spell; behold them fly,
The godlike images that seemed so fair!
Silent the playful Muse- the rosy Hours
Halt in their dance; and the May-breathing flowers
Fall from the sister-Graces' waving hair.
Sweet-mouthed Apollo breaks his golden lyre,
Hermes, the wand with many a marvel rife;-
The veil, rose-woven by the young Desire
With dreams, drops from the hueless cheeks of
K
Life.
The world seems what it is—A Grave! and Love
Casts down the bandage wound his eyes above,
And sees!-He sees but images of clay
Where he dreamed gods; and sighs-and glides
away.'
The youngness of the Beautiful grows old,
And on thy lips the bride's sweet kiss seems cold;
And in the crowd of joys-upon thy throne
Thou sitt'st in state, and hardenest into stone.
1 These four lines are slightly altered from the original, in which
Love is doubly typified by Cytherca and her son Cupid; and by the
double type the idea itself becomes confused.

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2
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THEKLA.
THE ANTIQUE AT PARIS.
(FREE TRANSLATION).
WHA
HAT the Greek wrought, the vaunting Frauk
may gain,
And waft the pomp of Hellas to the Seine ;
His proud museums may with marble groan,
And Gallia gape on glories not her own;
237
But ever silent in the ungenial halls
Shall stand the Statues on their pedestals.
By him alone the Muses are possessed,
Who warms them from the marble-at his breast;
Bright, to the Greek, from stone each goddess
grew-
Vandals, each goddess is but stone to you
THEKLA;
A SPIRIT-VOICE.
Ir was objected to Schiller's Wallenstein, that he had suffered
Thekla to disappear from the Play without any clear intimation of
her fate. These stanzas are his answer to the objection We have no
meter exactly correspondent to the original, and all attempts at ser-
vile imitation in English forfeit all claim to rhythm and melody apon
an ear that can distinguish between verse and prose.
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238 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
W
HERE does my shadow fleet,
As from thy vision rapt, aloft I soar?
Is not my destiny complete ?
Have I not lived? have I not loved ?—What
more?
Ask'st thou, where pass away
The Nightingales that did enrapture air
With Music's soul in thy young happy May?
They loved, and only while they loved, they were!
Is the Lost found again?
With him, believe me, I at last am wed;
Where hearts, once joined, are never rent in twain,
Where tears, once dried, can never more be shed.
Thou unto us shalt win,
Thou-if thy love shall equal that we knew;
There is my father,' free from every sin,
Where the red Murder can no more pursue.
Him no delusion won
To feed his upward gaze on starry spheres;
For every faith (nor least the boldest one)
To Heaven aspiring still the Holy nears
To each belief that smiled
On life to beautify-some truth is given!
!
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CONTRARY
*1
O dare to err and dare to dream!-the child
Has oft the loftiest instinct of the Heaven!
I.
Kan man and an apt to am thank
239
1 Wallenstein. The next stanza alludes to his belief in Astrology-
of which such beautiful uses have been made by Schiller in his sol
emn tragedy,
WILLIAM TELL.
Jines accompanying the copy of Schiller's Drama of William
Tell, presented to the Arch-Chancellor Von Dalberg.
IN
N that fell strife, when force with force engages,
And Wrath stirs bloodshed-Wrath with blind-
fold eyes-
When, midst the war which raving Faction wages,
Lost in the roar-the voice of Justice dies,
When, but for license, Sin, the shameless, rages,
Against the Holy when the Willful rise,
When lost the Anchor which makes Nations strong
Amidst the storm,-there, is no theme for song.
II.
But when a Race, tending by vale and hill
Free flocks, contented with its rude domain-
Bursts the hard bondage with its own great will,
Lets fall the sword when once it rends the chain
And, flushed with Victory, can be human still-
There blest the strife, and then inspired the
strain.
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240
Such is my theme-to thee not strange, 'tis true :
Thou in the Great canst never find the New.¹
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
I The concluding point in the original requires some paraphrase
In translation. Schiller's lines are-
"Und solch ein Bild darf ich dir freudig zeigen,
Du kennst's-denn alles Grosse ist dein eigen."
ARCHIMEDES.
Archimedes once a scholar came,
TO A
"Teach me," he said, "the Art that won thy
fame;-
The godlike Art which gives such boons to toil,
And showers such fruit upon thy native soil;—
The godlike Art that girt the town when all
Rome's vengeance burst in thunder on the wall!"
"Thou call'st Art godlike—it is so, in truth,
And was," replied the Master to the youth,
"Ere yet its secrets were applied to use-
Ere yet it served beleaguered Syracuse :—
Ask'st thou from Art, but what the Art is worth?
The fruit?-for fruit go cultivate the Earth.-
He who the goddess would aspire unto,
Must not the goddess as the woman woo!"
T
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THE MAID OF ORLEANS.
flaunt the fair shape of Humanity,
Lewd Mockery dragg'd thee through the mire
it trod.'
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241
Wit wars with Beauty everlastingly-
Yearns for no angel-and adores no God—
Views the heart's wealth-to steal it as the thief-
Assails Delusion, but to kill Belief,
Yet the true Poetry-herself, like thee,
Childlike; herself, like thee, a shepherd maid-
Gives thee her birthright of Divinity,
And lifts unto the stars thy starry shade.
Thy brows receive the auriole of her sky;
The Heart created thee-thou canst not die.
The mean world loves to darken what is bright,
To see to dust each loftier image brought;
But fear not-souls there are that can delight
In the high Memory and the stately Thought,
To ribald mirth let Momus rouse the mart,
But forms more noble glad the noble heart.
1 Voltaire, in The Pucelle.
CARTHAGE.
OF
a humaner Mother Thou. degenerate Child
and vile,
Combining iron Roman might with fraudful Tyrian
guile,
But o'er the world it conquered, Rome with power
majestic reign'd;
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242
And Tyrian Arts instructed all that Tyrian craft
obtain'd'
Say what of the and thy renown in History's page
is told?
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
I g
STEER
Thy realms were won with Roman steel-and ruled
with Tyrian gold.
COLUMBUS.
1

1
ER on, bold Sailor-Wit may mock thy soul
that sees the land,
And hopeless at the helm may droop the weak and
weary hand;
YET EVER-EVER TO THE WEST, for there the
coast must lie,
And dim it dawns and glimmering dawns before thy
reason's eye;
Yea, trust the guiding God-and go along the float-
ing grave,
Though hid till now-yet now, behold the New
World o'er the wave!
With Genius Nature ever stands in solemn union
still,
And ever what the One foretells the Other shall
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NÆNIA.
NÆNIA.¹
243
THE
HE Beautiful, that men and gods alike subdues
must perish,
For pity ne'er the iron breast of Stygian Jove
shall cherish!
Once only-Love, by aid of song, the Shadow-
Sovereign thrall'd,
And at the dreary threshold he again the boon
recall'd.
Not Aphrodite's heavenly tears to love and life
restored
Her own adored Adonis, by the grisly monster
gored!
Not all the art of Thetis saved her god-like hero-
son,
When falling by the Scaan gate, his race of glory
run!
But forth she came, with all the nymphs of Nereus,
from the deep,
Around the silence of the Dead to sorrow and to
weep.
See tears are shed by every god and goddess, to
survey
How soon the Beautiful is past, the Perfect dies
away!
Yet noble sounds the voice of wail-and woe the
Dead can grace;
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244
}

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
For never wail and woe are heard to mourn above
the Base!
Nania was the goddess of funerals-and funeral songs were
called Næniæ.
2 Pluto.
JOVE TO HERCULES.
'WAS not my nectar made thy strength divine
But 'twas thy strength which made my nectar
Tw
thine!
THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE.
IN Schiller's Poem of "The Ideal," a translation of which has
already been presented to the reader, but which was composed
subsequently to "The Ideal and the Actual," the prevailing senti-
ment is of that simple pathos which can come home to every man
who has mourned for Youth, and the illusions which belong to
it-
LL for the hour
Of glory in the grass, and splendor in the flower."
But "The Ideal and the Actual" is purely philosophical; a poem
"in which," says IIoffmeister, "every object and every epithet
has a metaphysical background." Schiller himself was aware of its
obscurity to the general reader: he desires that even the refining
Humboldt "should read it in a kind of holy stillness-and banish,
during the meditation it required, all that was profane." Humboldt
proved himself worthy of these instructions, by the enthusiastic
admiration with which the poem inspired him. Previous to its

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THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE.
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245
composition, Schiller had been employed upon philosophical in-
quiries, especially his "Letters on the Esthetic Education of Man;”
and of these Letters it is truly observed, that the Poem is the
crowning Flower. To those acquainted with Schiller's philosophical
works and views, the poem is therefore less obscure; in its severe
compression such readers behold but the poctical epitome of
thoughts the depth of which they have already sounded, and the
coherence of which they have already ascertained-they recognizo
a familiar symbol, where the general reader only perplexes himself in
a riddle..
Without entering into disquisitions, out of place in this translation,
and fatiguing to those who desire in a collection of poems to enjoy the
Poctical-not to be bewildered by the Abstract-I shall merely preface
the poem, with the help of Schiller's commentators, by a short analy-
sis of the general design and meaning, so at least as to facilitate the
reader's study of this remarkable poem-study it will require, and well
repay.
The Poem begins (Stanza 1st) with the doctrine which Schiller
has often inculcated, that to Man there rests but the choice between
the pleasures of sense, and the peace of the soul; but both are
united in the life of the Immortals, viz., the higher orders of being.
Stanza 2d.—Still, it may be ours to attain, even on earth, to this
loftier and holier lifo provided we can raise ourselves beyond
material objects. Stanza 3d.-The Fates can only influence the
body, and the things of time and matter. But, safe from the changes
of matter and of life, the Platonic Archetype, Form, hovers in the
realm of the Ideal. If we can ascend to this realm-in other words,
to the domain of Beauty-wo attain (Stanza 4th) to the perfection
of Humanity-a perfection only found in the immaterial forms and
shadows of that realm-yet in which, as in the Gods, the sensual
and the intellectual powers are united. In the Actual Life wo
strive for a goal we cannot reach; in the Ideal, the goal is attainable,
and thero effort is victory. With Stanza 5th begins the antithesis
which is a key to the remainder-an antithesis constantly balanc-
ing before us the conditions of the actual and the privileges of
the Ideal. The Ideal is not meant to relax, but to brace us for
tho Actual Life. From the latter we cannot escape; but when wo
begin to flag beneath the sense of our narrow limits, and the
difficulties of the path, the eye, steadfastly fixed upon the Ideal
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246
Beauty aloft, beholds there the goal. Stanza 6th.- In Actual Life
Strength and Courage are the requisites for success, and are doomed
to eternal struggle; but (Stanza 7th) in the Ideal Life, struggle
exists not; the stream. gliding far from its rocky sources, is
smoothed to repose. Stanza 8th.-In the Actual Life, as long as
the Artist still has to contend with matter, he must strive and
labor Truth is only elicited by toil-the statue only wakens from
the block by the stroke of the chisel; but when (Stanza Sth) he
has once achieved the idea of Beauty-when once he has elevated
the material marble into form-all trace of his human neediness and
frailty is lost, and his work seems the child of the soul. Stanza
10th. Again, in the Actual world, the man who strives for Virtue.
finds every sentiment and every action poor compared to the rigid
standard of the abstract moral law. But if, (Stanza 11th.) instead of
striving for Virtue, merely from the cold sense of duty, we live that
life beyond the senses, in which Virtue becomes, as it were, natural
to us in which its behests are served, not through duty, but inclina-
tion-then the gulf between man and the moral law is filled up: we
take the Godhead, so to speak, into our will; and IIeaven ceases its
terrors, when man ceases to resist it. Stanza 12th.-Finally, in Actual
Life, sorrows, whether our own, or those with which we sympathize,
are terrible and powerful; but (Stanza 13th) in the Ideal world even
Sorrow has its pleasures. We contemplate the writhings of the
Laocoon in marble, with delight in the greatness of Art--not with
anguish for the suffering, but with veneration for the grandeur
with which the suffering is idealized by the Artist or expressed by
the subject. Over the pain of Art smiles the Heaven of the Moral
world. Stanzas 14th and 15th.-Man thus aspiring to the Ideal, is
compared to the Mythical Hercules. In the Actual world he must
suffer and must toil; but when once he can cast aside the garb of
clay, and through the Ethereal flame separate the Mortal from the
Immortal, the material dross sinks downward, the spirit soars aloft,
and Hebe (or Eternal Youth) pours out nectar as to the Gɔrls. If
the reader will have the patience to compare the above analysis
with the subjoined version, (in which the Translator has also
sought to render the general sense as intelligible as possible,) he
will probably find little difficulty in clearing up the Author's
meaning.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.

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J
THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE. 247
I.
FOREV
NOREVER fair, for ever calm and bright,
Life flies on plumage zephyr-light,
For those who on the Olympian hill rejoice-
Moons wane, and races wither to the tomb,
And 'mid the universal ruin, bloom
The rosy days of Gods-
St
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With Man, the choice,
Timid and anxious, hesitates between
The sense's pleasure and the soul's content;
While on celestial brows, aloft and sheen,
The beams of both are blent.
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II.
Seek'st thou on earth the life of Gods to share,
Safe in the Realm of Death ?--beware
To pluck the fruits that glitter to thine eye;
Content thyself with gazing on their glow-
Short are the joys Possession can bestow,
And in Possession sweet Desire will die.
'Twas not the ninefold chain of waves that bound
Thy daughter, Ceres, to the Stygian river—
She plucked the fruit of the unholy ground,
And so was Hell's forever.
III.
The Weavers of the Web- the Fates-but sway
The matter and the things of clay;
A
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KATIZAR VILDANTITUTO
248
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Safe from each change that time to matter gives.
Nature's blest playmate, free will to stray
With Gods a god, amidst the fie's of Day,
The FORM, the ARCHETYPE,' ser. ely lives.
Would'st thou sear heavenward on its joyous wing?
Cast off the earthly burden of the Real;
High from this cramp'd and dungeon'd being spring
Into the Realm of the Ideal.
IV.
Here, bathed, Perfection, in thy purest ray,
Free from the clogs and taints of clay,
Hovers divine the Archetypal Man!
Dim as those phantom shapes 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.
V.
Not from the strife itself to set thee free,
But more to nerve--doth Victory
Wave her rich garland from the Ideal clime.
Whate'er thy wish, the Earth has no repose—
Life still must drag thee onward as it flows,
Whirling thee down the dancing surge of Time.
PASS MEUL?2
ASTERIZARES AS BEING ALGERIETIESINE
SMATES REMANAKA

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THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE.
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 attainëd goal.
VI.
If worth thy while the glory and the strife
Which fire the lists of Actual life-
249
The ardent rush to fortune or to fame,
In the hot field where Strength and Valor are,
And rolls the whirling thunder of the car,
And the world, breathless, eyes the glorious
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game-
Then dare and strive !-the prize can but belong
To him whose valor o'er his tribe prevails;
In life the victory only crowns the strong-
He who is feeble fails.
VII.
But Life, whose source, by crags around it piled,
Chafed while confined, foams fierce and wild,
Glides soft and smooth when once its streams ex
pand,
When its waves (glassing, in their silver play,
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.
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
VII.
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.
IX.
But onward to the Sphere of Beauty—go
Onward, O Child of Art! and, lo,
Out of the matter which thy pains control
The Statue springs !-not as with labor wrung
From the hard block, but as from Nothing sprung-
Airy and light-the offspring of the soul!
The pangs, the cares, the weary toils it cost
Leave not a trace when once the work is done
The Artist's human frailty merged and lost
In Art's great victory won !2
*
Xx.
When human Sin confronts the rigid law
Of perfect Truth and Virtue, awe
Seizes and saddens thee to see how far
I
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1
THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE.
Beyond thy reach, Perfection;-if we test
By the Ideal of the Good, the best,
How mean our efforts and our actions are!
This spuce between the Ideal of man's soul
And man's achievement, who hath ever passed?
An ocean spreads between us and that goal,
Where anchor ne'er was cast!
XI.
But fly the boundary of the Senses--live
The Ideal life free Thought can give;
And, lo, the gulf shall vanish, and the chill
Of the soul's impotent despair be gone!
And with divinity thou sharest the throne,
Let but divinity become thy will!
Scorn not the Law-permit its iron band
The sense (it cannot chain the soul) to thrall.
Let man no more the will of Jove withstand.*
And Jove the bolt lets fall!
XII.
251
If, in the woes of Actual Human Life-
If thou could'st see the serpent strife
Which the Greek Art has made divine in stone —
Could'st see the writhing limbs, the livid cheek,
Note every pang, and hearken every shriek
Of some despairing lost Laocoon,
The human nature would thyself subdue
To share the human woe before thine eye-
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252
Thy cheek would pale, and all thy soul be true
To Man's Great Sympathy.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER,
XIII.
But in the Ideal Realm, aloof and far,
Where the calm Art's pure dwellers are,
Lo, the Laocoon writhes, but does not groan.
Here no sharp grief the high emotion knows—
Here suffering's self is made divine, and shows
The brave resolve of the firm soul alone:
Here, lovely as the rainbow on the dew
Of the spent thunder-cloud, to Art is given,
Gleaming through Grief's dark vail, the peaceful
blue
Of the sweet Moral Heaven.
XIV.
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 labors sore
Wroth Juno sent-the meek majestic One
With patient spirit and unquailing, bore,
Until the course was run-
P
XV.
Until the God cast down his garb of clay,
And rent in hallowing flame away
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THE FAVOR OF THE MOMENT.
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!
253
1 "Die Gestalt"-Form, the Platonic Archetype.
2 More literally translated thus by the Author of the Article on
Schiller in the Foreign and Colonial Review, July, 1843—
"Thence all witnesses forever banished
Of poor Human Nakedness."
3 The Law-i. e., the Kantian Ideal of Truth and Virtue.
This
stanza and the next embody, perhaps with some exaggeration, the
Kantian doctrine of morality.
4" But in God's sight submission is command."
Jonah, by the Rev. F. Hodgson. Quoted in Foreign and Colonial
Review, July, 1848-Art. "Schiller," p. 21.
THE FAVOR OF THE MOMENT.
ONCE
NCE more, then, we meet,
In the circles of yore;
Let our song be as sweet
In its wreaths as before.
Who claims the first place
In the tribute of song?
The God to whose grace
All our pleasures belong.
Though Ceres may spread
All her gifts on the shrine.
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254
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Though the glass may be red
With the blush of the vine,
What boots-if the while
Fall no spark on the hearth?
If the heart do not smile
With the instinct of mirth ?—
From the clouds, from God's breast
Must our happiness fall,
Mid the blessed, most blest
Is the MOMENT of all!
Since Creation began,
All that mortals have wrought,
All that's godlike in MAN
Comes the flash of a Thought!
Stone on stone, slow upheaved
Grows the pile :-But its whole,
Once complete, is perceived.
As if sprung from the soul.
On the arch that she buildeth
From sunbeams on high,
As Iris just gildeth.-
And fleets from,- the sky,
So shineth, so gloometh
Each gift that is ours;
The lightning illumeth—
The darkness devours !!
-
“And ere a man has power to say 'behold,'
The jaws of Darkness do devour it up,
So quick bright things come to confusion.”
SHAKSPEARE
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THE FORTUNE-FAVORED.
THE SOWER.
URE of the Spring that warms them into birth,
The golden germs thou trustest to the Earth;
Heed'st thou as well to sow in Time the seeds
Of Wisdom for Eternity-good deeds?
THE FORTUNE-FAVORED.
255
THE first five verses in the original of this Poem are placed as a mot
to on Goethe's statue in the Library at Weimar. The Poet does not
here mean to extol what is vulgarly meant by the Gifts of Fortune;
he but develops a favorite idea of his, that whatever is really sublime
and beautiful comes freely down from Heaven; and vindicates the
seeming partiality of the Gods, by implying that the Beauty and the
Genius given, without labor, to some, but serve to the delight of
those to whom they are denied. There is a very similar thought
in Dante.
AH! happy He, upon whose birth each God
Looks down in love, whose earliest sleep the
bright
Idalia cradles, whose young lips the rod
Of eloquent Hermes kindles-to whose eyes,
Scarce wakened yet, Apollo steals in light,
While on imperial brows Jove sets the seal of
might!
Godlike the lot ordained for him to share,
Ile wins the garland ere he runs the race;
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256
He learns life's wisdom ere he knows life's care,
And, without labor vanquished, smiles the Grace.
Great is the man, I grant, whose strength of
mind.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHLLER.
Self-shapes its objects and subdues the Fates-
Virtue subdues the Fates, but cannot bind
The fickle Happiness, whose smile awaits
Those who scarce seek it; nor can courage earn
What the Grace showers not from her own free
urn!
From aught unworthy, the determined will
Can guard the watchful spirit-there it ends;—
The all that's glorious from the heaven descends;
As some sweet mistress loves us, freely still
Come the spontaneous gifts of Heaven!-Above
Favor rules Jove, as it below rules Love!
The Immortals have their bias !-Kindly they
See the bright locks of youth enamored play,
And where the glad one goes, shed gladness round
the way.
It is not they who boast the best to see,
Whose eyes the holy Apparitions bless;
The stately light of their divinity
Hath oft times shone the brightest on the blind ;—
And their choice spirit found its calm recess
In the pure childhood of a simple mind.
Unasked they come-delighted to delude
The expectation of our baffled Pride ;
No edict calls their free steps to our side.
Him whom He loves, the Sire of men and gods,
THE FORTUNE-FAVORED.
3

257
Bears on his eagle to his bright abodes;
At his free choice amidst the multitude,
He marks the brows on which fall partial down
Fame's laurel wreath-or Power's imperial crown.
Fortune is but Jove's favor, freely given;
And what but Fortune crowns ev'n Jove in Heaven!
Before the man thus graced, divinely go
The Pythian conqueror with his silver bow,
Aud Eros with the smile that gilds the skies;
For him gray Neptune smooths the pliant wave-
Harmless the waters for the ship that bore
The Cæsar and his fortunes to the shore!
Charmed at his feet the crouching lion lies,
To him his back the murmuring dolphin gave;
His soul is born a sovereign o'er the strife—
The Lord of all the Beautiful of Life;
Where'er his presence in its calm has trod,
It charms--it sw.ys, as some immortal God.
Scorn not the Fortune-favored, that to him
The light-won victory by the gods is given,
Or that, as Paris, from the strife severe,
Soft Venus draws her darling.-Whom the heaven
So prospers, love so watches, I revere;
And not the man upon whose eyes, with dim
And baleful night, sits Fate. Achaia boasts
No less Pelides as her mightiest Lord,
That Vulcan wrought for him the shield and
sword-
That round the mortal hovered all the hosts
Of all Olympus-that, his wrath to grace,
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258
The best and bravest of the Grecian race,
Untimely slaughtered, with resentful ghosts
Awed the pale people of the Stygian coasts!
Scorn not the Darlings of the Beautiful,
If without labor they Life's blossoms cull;
If. like the stately lilies, they have won
A crown for which they neither toiled nor spun :--
If without merit, theirs be Beauty—still
Thy gense, unenvying, with the Beauty fill.
Alike for thee no merit wins the right,
To share, by simply seeing, their delight.
Heaven breathes the soul into the Minstrel's breast
But with that soul he animates the rest;
And as the God inspires him, he shall be,
If heard devoutly, as a God to thee;
Listen ;-and blessed in his bliss thou art!
Let Themis poise the balance for the Mart,
And weigh strict recompense to labor keen;
But rapture, lighting up the cheeks of men,
Is by the grace of Power divine bestowed;
Bliss is a miracle that needs a God !'
All that is human waxes to its prime,
Stage upon stage-the gradual shape of Time.
The Blissful and the Beautiful alone
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Rise, laboring not-degree on slow degree-
Their growth and progress to our eyes unshown.
They spring, perfected for Eternity!
Like Heaven's, each earthly Venus on the sight
Comes, a dark birth, from out an endless sea;
Like the first Pallas, in maturest might,
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SENTENCES OF CONFUCIUS.
259
Armed, from the Thunderer's brow, leaps forth
each Thought of Light.
Paraphrased from-
"Aber die Freude ruft nur ein Gott auf sterbliche Wangen;
Wo kein Wunder geschieht ist kein Beglückter zu sehn."
These lines furnish the key to-
"Nur ein Wunder kann dich tragen
In das schöne Wunderland."-(SCHILLER, Sehnsucht.)
And the same lines, with what follow, explain also the general in.
tention of the poem on the "Favor of the Moment."
SENTENCES OF CONFUCIUS.
TIME.
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HREEFOLD the stride of Time, from first to
THRE
last!
Loitering slow, the FUTURE creepeth-
Arrow-swift, the PRESENT Sweepeth-
And motionless forever stands the PAST.
Impatience, fret howe'er she may,
Cannot speed the tardy goer;
Fear and Doubt-that crave delay-
Ne'er can make the Fleet One slower;
Nor one spell Repentance knows,
To stir the Still One from repose.
If thou would'st, wise and happy, see
Life's solemn journey close for thee,
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260
The Loiterer's counsel thou wilt heed,
Though readier tools must shape the deed ;
Nor for thy friend the Fleet One know,
Nor make the Motionless thy foe!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
SPACE.
A threefold measure dwells in Space-
Restless LENGTH, with flying race;
Stretching forward, never endeth,
Ever widening, BREADTH extendeth ;
Ever groundless, DEPTH descendeth.
Types in these thou dost possess ;—
Kestless, onward thou must press,
Never halt nor languor know,
To the Perfect wouldst thou go ;—
Let thy reach with Breadth extend
Till the world it comprehend-
Dive into the Depth to see
Germ and root of all that be.
Ever onward must thy soul ;—
'Tis the progress gains the goal;
Ever widen more its bound;
In the Full the clear is found,
And the Truth-dwells under ground.
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GENIUS.
D°
THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHERN WANDERER.
AND oer the river hast thou past, and o'er the
mighty sea,
And o'er the Alps, the dizzy bridge hath borne thy
steps to me;
To look all near upon the bloom my deathless
beauty knows,
261
And, face to face, to front the pomp whose fame
through ages goes-
Gaze on, and touch my relics now 1 At last thou
standest here,
But art thou nearer now to me-or I to thee more
near?
GENIUS.
(FREE TRANSLATION.)
THE original, and, "It seems to us, the more appropriate title of this
Poem, was "Nature and the School"
I'believe, thou ask'st, the .Master's word,
The Schoolman's shibboleth that binds the
herd?
To the Soul's haven is there but one chart?
Its peace a problem to be learned by art?
On system rest the Happy and the Good?
To base the temple must the props be wood?
Must I distrust the gentle law, imprest,
To guide and warn, by Nature on the breast,
".

262
}
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Till, squared to rule the instinct of the soul,—
Till the School's signet stamp the eternal scroll,
Till in one mold, some dogma hath confined
The ebb and flow-the light waves-of the mind?
Say thou, familiar to these depths of gloom,
Thou, safe ascended from the dusty tomb,
Thou, who hast trod these weird Egyptian cells-
Say-if Life's comfort with yon mummies dwells! ---
Say--and I grope-with saddened steps indeed-
But on, through darkness, if to Truth it lead!
Nay, Friend, thou know'st the golden time-the age
Whose legends live in many a poet's page?
When heavenlier shapes with Man walked side by
side,
And the chaste Feeling was itself a guide;
Then the great law, alike divine amid
Suns bright in Heaven, or germs in darkness hid,--
That silent law-(call'd whether by the name
Of Nature or Necessity-the same,)
To that deep sea, the heart, its movement gave—
Sway'd the full tide, and freshened the free wave
Then sense unerring-because unreproved-
True, as the finger on the dial, moved,
S
Half-guide, half-playmate, of Earth's age of youth,
The sportive instinct of Eternal Truth.
Then, nor Initiate nor Profane was knowu;
Where the Heart felt-there Reason found a throne:
Not from the dust below, but life around,
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GENIUS.
263
Warm Genius shaped what quick Emotion found.
Üne rule, like light, for every bosom glowed,
Yet hid from all the fountain whence it flowed.
But gone that blessed Age!—our willful pride
Has lost, with Nature, the old peaceful Guide.
FEELING, no more to raise us and rejoice,
Is heard and honored as a Godhead's voice;
And, disenhallowed in its eldest cell
The Human Heart,-lies mute the Oracle;
Save where, withdrawn into itself and still,
Listens the soul, and feels the murmur thrill,
Seeking within lost Nature's steps to track,
Till, found once more, she gives him wisdom back
Hast thou-(0 Blest, if so, whate'er betide!)—
Still kept the Guardian Angel by thy side?
Can thy Heart's guileless childhood yet rejoice
In the sweet instinct with its warning voice?
Does Truth yet limn upon untroubled eyes,
Pure and serene, her world of Iris-dyes?
Rings clear the echo that her accent calls
Back from the breast on which the music falls?
In the calm mind is doubt yet hush'd,-and will
That doubt to-morrow as to-day be still?
Will all these fine sensations in their play,
No censor need to regulate and sway?¹
Fear'st thou not in the insidious Heart to find
The source of trouble to the limpid mind?
No!--then thine innocence thy Mentor be'
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264 POEMS AND CALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Science can teach thee naught she learns frem
thee!
Each law that lends lame succor to the Weak-
The cripple's crutch-the vigorous need not seek.
From thine own self thy rule of action draw;
That which thou dost-what charms thee-is thy
Law,
And founds to every race a code sublime:
What pleases Genius gives a Law to Time.
The Word-the Deed-all Ages shall command,
Pure if thy lip, and holy if thy hand!
Thou, thou alone mark'st not within thy heart
The inspiring God whose Minister thou art,
Know'st not the magic of the mighty ring
Which bows the realm of Spirits to their King;
But meek, nor conscious of diviner birth,
Glide thy still footsteps through the conquer'd
Earth!
I Will this play of fine sensations (or sensibilities) require no censor
to control it ?-i. e., will it always work spontaneously for good, and
run into no passionate excess ?
ULYSSES.
TO
10 gain his home all oceans he explor'd-
Here Scylla frown'd, and there Charybdis
roar'd;
Horror on sea, and horror on the land-
In hell's dark boat he sought the specter land,
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VOTIVE TABLETS.
Till borne-a slumberer-to his native spot,
He woke--and, sorrowing, knew his country not!
265
VOTIVE TABLETS.
UNDEE this title Schiller arranged that more dignified and philo-
sophical portion of the small Poems published as Epigrams in the
Musen Almanach; which rather sought to point a general thought
than a personal satire. Many of these, however, are either wholly
without interest for the English reader, or express in almost untrans-
lateable laconism what, in far more poetical shapes, Schiller has
elsewhere repeated and developed. We, therefore, content our-
selves with such a selection as appears to us best suited to convev a
fair notion of the object and spirit of the class.
MOTTO TO THE VOTIVE TABLETS.
What the God taught-what has befriended all
Life's ways, I place upon the Votive Wall.
THE GOOD AND THE BEAUTIFUL.
(ZWEIERLEI WIRKUNGSARTEN.)
A
CHIEVE the Good, and godlike plants, possessed
Already by mankind, thou nourishest;
Create the Beautiful, and seeds are sown
For godlike plants, to man as yet unknown.
VALUE AND WORTH.
If thou hast something, bring thy goods-a fair re-
turn be thine;
If thou art something, bring thy soul and inter-
change with mine.

}
266 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE DIVISION OF RANKS.
YES, in the moral world, as ours, we see
Divided grades-a Soul's Nobility;
By deeds their titles common men create-
The loftier order are by birthright great.¹
TO THE MYSTICS.
LIFE has its mystery;-True, it is that one
Surrounding all, and yet perceived by none.2
THE KEY.
To know thyself-in others self discern;
Wouldst thou know others? read thyself-and
learn!
WISDOM AND PRUDENCE.
WOULDST thou the loftiest height of Wisdom
gain ?
On to the rashness, Prudence would disdain ;
The purblind see but the receding shore,
Not that to which the bold wave wafts thee o'er!
THE UNANIMITY.
TRUTH seek we both-Thou, in the life without
thee and around;
I in the heart within-by both can truth alike be
found;

Sp
VOTIVE TAKLETS.
267
The healthy eye can through the world the great
Creator track—
The healthy heart is but the glass which gives
Creation back.
POLITICAL MAXIM.
(The following very close translation is communicated by a distin
guished friend).
ALL should be right that thou doëst; that, friend,
is a sound proposition;
Let it content thee, nor think all that is right
thou shouldst do.
True zeal counts it enough to bring what is to per-
fection;
To make the perfect to be, labors the zeal that is
false.
TO ASTRONOMERS.
Or your Nebulæ³ and planets tease me not with
your amount;
What! is Nature only mighty inasmuch as you can
count?
Inasmuch as you can measure her immeasurable
ways?
As she renders world on world, sun and system
to your gaze?
Though through space your object be the Sub-
limest to embrace,
Never the Sublime abideth-where you vainly
search-in space!*

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}
POEMS AND BALI.ADS OF SCHILI EK.
THE BEST GOVERNED STATE.
How the pest state to know ?-it is found out
Like the best woman;-that least talked about
MY BELIEF.
WHAT thy religion! those thou namest-none?
None, why-because I have religion!
FRIEND AND FOE.
DEAR is my friend-yet from my foe, as from
my friend, comes good;
My friend shows what I can do, and my foe shows
what I should.
LIGHT AND COLOR.
DWELL, Light, beside the changeless God-God
spoke and Light began ;
Come, thou, the ever-changing one-come, Color,
down to Man!
FORUM OF WOMEN
WOMAN-to judge man rightly-do not scan
Each separate act;-pass judgment on the Man
GENIUS
INTELLECT can repeat what's been fulfill'd,
And, aping Nature, as she buildeth-build;
}

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VOTIVE TABLETS.
O'er Nature's base can haughty Reason dare
To pile its lofty castle-in the air.
But only thine, O Genius, is the charge,
In Nature's kingdom Nature to enlarge!
THE IMITATOR.
FOOD out of good—that art is known to all-
But Genius from the bad the good can call;
Thou, Mimic, turn'st the same old substance o'er,
And seek'st to fashion what was formed before;
Ev'n that to Genius from thy hand escapes,
And lends but matter to the mind that shapes.
CORRECTNESS.
THE calm correctness, where no fault we see,
Attests Art's loftiest or its least degree;
That ground in common two extremes may claim—
Strength most consummate, feebleness most tame.
THE MASTER.
THE herd of scribes, by what they tell us,
Show all in which their wits excel us;
But the True Master we behold,
In what his art leaves-just untold.
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270 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
EXPECTATION AND FULFILLMENT
O'ER Ocean, with a thousand masts, sails forth the
stripling bold-
One boat, hard rescued from the deep, draws into
port the old!
THE EPIC HEXAMETER.
(TRANSLATED BY COLERIDGE.)
Strongly it bears us along in swelling and limitless
billows,
64
Nothing before and nothing behind but the sky
and the ocean.
THE ELEGIAC METER.
(TRANSLATED BY COLERIDGE.)
In the hexameter rises the fountain's silvery column,
In the pentameter aye falling in melody back."
1 This idea is often repeated, somewhat more clearly, in the
haughty philosophy of Schiller. He himself says elsewhere, “In a
fair soul each single action is not properly moral, but the whole
character is moral. The fair soul has no other service than the in-
stincts of its own beauty." "Common Natures," observes Hoffmeis-
ter, can only act as it were by rule and law: the Noble are of
themselves morally good, and humanly beautiful."
2 Query?-the Law of Creation, both physical and moral.
3 Nebelflecke-i. e., the nebulous matter which puzzles astrono-
mers.
• i. e.,—The Sublime is the Moral Law: its kingdom is where time
end space are not.
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OTHER EPIGRAMS.
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THE PROSELYTE MAKER.
• I have ventured to borrow these two translations from Coleridge's
poems, because what Coleridge did well, no living man could have
the presumptuous hope to improve.
Young -- ;
OTHER EPIGRAMS, ETC.
GIVE
(IVE me that which thou know'st-I'll receive
and attend;
But thou giv'st me thyself-prithee, spare me my
friend!
THE CONNECTING MEDIUM.
271
"A LITTLE Earth from out the earth—and I
The Earth will move;" so spake the Sage divine.
Out of myself one little moment-try
Myself to take :-succeed, and I am thine!
THE MORAL POET.
WHAT to cement the lofty and the mean
Does Nature?-what?-place vanity between!
This is an Epigram on Lavater's work, called Pontius Pilatus
oder der Mensch in allen Gestalten, &c-HOFFMEISTER.
"How poor a thing is man!" alas, 'tis true
I'd half forgot it—when I chanced on you!
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272 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
SCIENCE
To some she is the Goddess great, to some the
milch cow of the field;
Their care is but to calculate-what butter she will
yield.
KANT AND HIS COMMENTATORS.
How many starvelings one rich man can nourish!
When monarchs build, the rubbish-carriers flourish.
TO
THE HEREDITARY PRINCE OF SAXE WEIMAR
ON HIS JOURNEY TO PARIS, WRITTEN FEBRUARY, 1802,
(Sung in a friendly circle.)
про
on
10 the Wanderer a bowl to the brim/
This Vale on his infancy smiled;
Let the Vale send a blessing to him,
Whom it cradled to sleep as a child!
He goes from his Forefathers' halls-
From the arms that embraced him at birth-
To the City that trophies its walls
With the spoils it has ravisb'd from earth
The thunder is silent, and now
The War and the Discord are ended;
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TO THE PRINCE OF SAXE WEIMAR.
And Man o'er the crater may bow,
Whence the stream of the lava descended
O fair be the fate to secure
Thy way through the perilous track;
The heart Nature gave thee is pure,
Bring it pure, as it goes from us, back.
Those lands the wild hoofs of the steeds,
War yoked for the carnage, have torn;
But Peace, laughing over the meeds,
Comes, strewing the gold of the corn.
Thou the old Father Rhine wilt be greeting
By whom thy great Father' shall be
Remembered so long as is fleeting
His stream to the beds of the Sea;-
Dodg
There, honor the Heroes of old,
And pour to our Warden, the Rhine,
Who keeps on our borders his hold,
A cup from his own merry wine;
273
That thou may'st, as a guide to thy youth,
The soul of the Fatherland find,
When thou passest the bridge where the Truth
Of the German, thou leavest behind.
Duke Bernard of Weimar, one of the great Generals of the
Thirty Years' War.

•
274
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
TO A YOUNG FRIEND DEVOTING HIMSELF TO
PHILOSOPHY.
SEVE to undergo,
NEVERE the proof the Grecian youth was doomed
Before he might what lurks beneath the Eleusinia
know-
M
Art thou prepared and ripe, the shrine-that inner
shrine to win?
Where Pallas guards from vulgar eyes the mystic
prize within?
Know'st thou what bars thy way! how dear the
bargain thou dost make,
When but to buy uncertain good, sure good thou
dost forsake?
Feel'st thou sufficient strength to brave the dead-
liest human fray-
When Heart from Reason-Sense from Thought,
shall rend themselves away?
Sufficient valor, war with Doubt, the Hydra-shape
to wage;
And that worst foe within thyself with manly
soul engage?
With eyes that keep their heavenly health-the in-
nocence of youth
To guard from every falsehood, fair beneath the
mask of Truth?
Fly, if thou can'st not trust thy heart to guide thee
on the way-
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THE PUPPET-SHOW OF LIFE.
Oh. fly the charmëd margin, ere the abyss engulf its
prey.
Round many a step that seeks the light, the shades
of midnight close;
But in the glimmering twilight, sec-how safely
Childhood goes!
THE PUPPET-SHOW OF LIFE.
(DAS SPIEL DES LEBENS.)
275
A PARAPHRASE.
A LITERAL version of this Poem, which possibly may have been
suggested by some charming passages in Wilhelm Meister, would be
incompatible with the spirit which constitutes its chief merit. And
perhaps, therefore, the original may be more faithfully rendered
(like many of the Odes of Horace) by paraphrase than translation.
In the general idea, as in all Schiller's Poems of this kind, something
more is implied than expressed. He has treated, elsewhere, the
Ideal or Shadowy life in earnest. He here represents the Actual as
a game; the chief images it brings to view are those of strife and
contest; to see it rightly you must not approach too near; and re-
gard the Actual Stage only by the lights of Love. True to his chiv-
alry to the sex, even in sport, as in earnest, Schiller places the prize
of life in the hand of Woman.
-
HO-ho-my puppet-show!
Ladies and gentlemen, see my show'
Life and the world-look here, in troth,
Though but in parvo, I promise ye both!
The world and life-they shall both appear;
But both are best seen when you're not too near;
3

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276 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
And every lamp from the stage to the porch,
Must be lighted by Venus, from Cupid's torch;
Never a moment, if rules can tempt ye,
Never a moment my scene is empty!
Here is the babe in his leading-strings-
Here is the boy at play;
Here is the passionate youth with wings,
Like a bird's on a stormy day,
3
To and fro, waving here and there,
Down to the earth and aloft through the air;
Now see the man, as for combat enter-
Where is the peril he fears to adventure?
See how the puppets speed on to the race,
Each his own fortune pursues in the chase;
How many the rivals, how narrow the space!
But, hurry and scurry, O mettlesome game!.
The cars roll in thunder, the wheels rush in flame.
How the brave dart onward, and pant and glow !
How the craven behind them come creeping slow-
Ha ha! see how Pride gets a terrible fall!
See how Prudence, or Cunning, out-races them all
See how at the goal, with her smiling eyes,
Ever waits Woman to give the prize!
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COMMENCEMENT OF THE NEW CENTURY. 277
THE MINSTRELS OF OLD.
W
HERE now the minstrel of the large renown,
Rapturing with living words the heark'ning
throng;
Charming the Man to Heaven, and earthward down
Charming the God,-who wing'd the soul with
song?
Yet lives the minstrel, not the deeds;—the lyre
Of old demands ears that of old believed it-
Bards of bless'd time-how flew your living fire
From lip to lip! how race from race received it!
As if a God, men hallow'd with devotion-
What GENIUS, speaking, shaping, wrought below,
The glow of song inflamed the ear's emotion,
The ear's emotion gave the song the glow;
Each nurturing each-back on his soul-its tone
Whole nations echoed with a rapture-peal;
Then all around the heavenly splendor shone
Which now the heart, and scarce the heart can feel.
THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE NEW CENTURY.
WHER
HERE can Peace find a refuge?—whither, say,
Can Freedom turn?-lo, friend, before our
view
'The CENTURY rends itself in storm away,
And, red with slaughter, dawns on earth the New.
1
278 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The girdle of the lands is loosen'd ;'—hurl'd
To dust the forms old Custom deem'd divine,--
Safe from War's fury not the watery world;—
Safe not the Nile-God nor the antique Rhine.
Two mighty nations make the world their field,
Deeming the world is for their heir-loom given,
Against the freedom of all lands they wield
This-Neptune's trident: that-the Thund'rer's
leven.
Gold to their scales each region must afford,
And, as fierce Brennus in Gaul's early tale,
The Frank casts in the iron of his sword,
To poise the balance, where the right may fail-
Like some huge Polypus, with arms that roam
Outstretch'd for prey-the Briton spreads his
reign;
And, as if Ocean were his household home,
Locks up the chambers of the liberal main.
On to the Pole where shines, unseen, the Star,
Onward his restless course unbounded flies;
Tracks every isle and every coast afar,
And undiscover'd leaves but-Paradise!
Alas, in vain on earth's wide chart, I ween,
Thou seek'st that holy realm, beneath the sky,
Where Freedom dwells in gardens ever green--
And blooms the Youth of fair Humanity!"
O'er shores where sail ne'er rustled to the wind,
O'er the vast universe, may rove thy ken;
But in the universe thou canst not find
A space sufficing for ten happy men'
B
13
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r,
COMMENCEMENT OF THE NEW CENTURY. 279
In the heart's holy stillness only beams
The shrine of refuge from life's stormy throng;
Freedom is only in the land of Dreams ;
And only blooms the Beautiful in Song!
I That is the settled political system-the balance of power.
We have now concluded the Poems composed in the Taird or
maturest Period of Schiller's life.
From this portion only
have been omitted, in the Translation, (besides some of the moral
or epigrammatic sentences to which we have before alluded,) a very
few pieces, which, whatever their merit in the original, would be
wholly without interest for the general English reader,-viz., the
satirical lines on Shakspeare's Translators-"The Philosopher,"
"The Rivers," "The Jeremiad," "The Remonstrance," addressed to
Goethe on producing Voltaire's "Mahomet" on the Stage, in which
the same ideas have been already expressed by Schiller in poems of
more liberal and general application; and three or four occasional
pieces in albums, &c.
The "Farewell to the Reader," which property belongs to this
division of the Poems, has been transferred, as the fitting conclusion,
to the last place in the entire translation.
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SECOND PERIOD.
PRO
THE Poems included in the Second Period of Schiller's literary
career are few, but remarkable for their beauty, and deeply interest-
ing from the struggling and anxious state of mind which some of
them depict. It was, both to his taste and to his thought, a period of
visible transition. He had survived the wild and irregular power
which stamps, with fierce and somewhat sensual characters, the pro-
ductions of his youth; but he had not attained that serene repose of
strength-that calm, bespeaking depth and fullness, which is found in
the best writings of his maturer years. In point of style, the Poems
In this division have more facility and sweetness than those of his
youth; and perhaps more evident vigor, more popular verve and
gusto than many composed in his riper manhood; in point of
thought, they mark that era through which few men of inquisitive
and adventurous genius-of sanguine and impassioned temperament,
and of education chiefly self-formed, undisciplined, and imperfect-
have failed to pass-the era of doubt and gloom, of self-conflict, and
of self-torture. In The Robbers, and much of the poetry written
in the same period of Schiller's life, there is a bold and wild imagi-
nation, which attacks rather than questions-innovates rather than
examines-seizes upon subjects of vast social import, that float on
the surface of opinion, and assails them with a blind and half-savage
rudeness, according as they offend the enthusiasm of unreasoning
youth. But now this eager and ardent mind had paused to contem-
plate; its studies were turned to philosophy and history—a more
practical knowledge of life (though in this last, Schiller, like most
282
German authors, was ever more or less deficient in variety and
range) had begun to soften the stern and fiery spirit which had
hitherto sported with the dangerous elements of social revolution,
And while this change was working, before its feverish agitation
subsided into that spiritual philosophy which is the antipodes of
skepticism, it was natural that, to the energy which had asserted,
denounced, and dogmatized, should succeed the reaction of despon-
dency and distrust. Vehement indignation at "the solemn plausi-
bilities" of the world pervades The Robbers. In Don Carlos, the
passion is no longer vehement indignation, but mournful sorrow--
not indignation that hypocrisy reigns, but sorrow that honesty can-
not triumph-not indignation that formal Vice usurps the high
places of the world, but sorrow that, in the world, warm and gener-
ous Virtue glows, and feels, and suffers-without reward. So, in the
poems of this period, are two that made a considerable sensation on
their first appearance-The Conflict, (published originally under the
itle of The Freethinking of Pussion,) and Resignation. They
present a melancholy view of the moral struggles in the heart of a
noble and virtuous man. From the first of these poems, Schiller,
happily and wisely, at a later period of his life, struck out the passages
most calculated to offend. What hand would dare to restore them?
The few stanzas that remain still suggest the outline of dark and
painful thoughts, which is filled up in the more elaborate, and, in
many respects, exquisite, poem of Resignation. Virtue exacting all
sacrifices, and giving no reward-Bellef which denies enjoyment,
and has no bliss save its own faith; such is the somber lesson of the
melancholy poet-the more impressive because so far it is truth-
deep and everlasting truth-but only, to a Christian, a part of truth.
Resignation, so sad if not looking beyond the earth, becomes joy,
when assured and confident of heaven. Another poem in this inter-
mediate collection was no less subjected to severe animadversion-
viz., The Gods of Greece. As the Poem, however, now stands,
though one or two expressions are not free from objection, it can
only be regarded as a Poet's lament for the Mythology which was the
Fount of poetry, and certainly not as a Reasoner's defense of Pagan-
Ism in disparagement of Christianity. But the fact is, that Schiller's
mind was so essentially religious, that wo feel more angry, when be
whom we would gladly hail as our light and guide, only darkens us
or misleads, than we should with the absolute infidelity of a less
SECOND PERIOD.
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283
grave and reverent genius. Yet a period-a transition state-of
doubt and despondency is perhaps common to men in proportion to
their natural disposition to faith and veneration. With them, it
comes from keen sympathy with undeserved sufferings-from grief
at wickedness triumphant-from too intense a brooding over the
mysteries involved in the government of the world. Skepticism of
this nature can but little injure the frivolous, and will be charitably
regarded by the wise. Schiller's mind soon outgrew the state which,
to the mind of a poct, above all men, is most ungenial, but the sad-
ness which the struggle bequeathed seems to have wrought a com-
plete revolution in all his preconceived opinions. The wild creator
of The Robbers, drunk with liberty, and audacious against all re-
straint, becomes the champion of "Holy Order,"-
Holy Order,"-the denouncer
of the French Republic-the panegyrist of an Ideal Life, which
should entirely separate Genius the Restless from Society the Set-
tled. And as his impetuous and stormy vigor matured into the
lucent and tranquil art of Der Spaziergang, Wallenstein, and Die
Braut von Messina, so his philosophy threw itself into calm respect
for all that custom sanctioned and convention hallowed.
SECOND PERIOD.
But even during the painful transition, of which, in his minor
poems, glimpses alone are visible, Skepticism, with Schiller, never
insults the devoted, nor mocks the earnest mind. It may have
sadness-but never scorn. It is the question of a traveller who
has lost his way in the great wilderness, but who mourns with
his fellow-seekers, and has no bitter laughter for their wanderings
from the goal. This division begins, indeed, with a Hymn which
atones for whatever pains ns in the two poems whose strain and spirit
so gloomily contrast it-viz., the matchless and immortal Hymn to
Joy. And it is peculiarly noticeable, that, whatever Schiller's state of
mind upon theological subjects at the time that this hymn was com-
posed, and though all doctrinal stamp and mark be carofully absent
from It, it is yet a poem that never could havo been written but in a
Christian age, in a Christian land-but by a man whose whole soul
and heart had been at one time (nay, was at the very moment of
composition) inspired and suffused with that firm belief in God's
goodness and His justice-that full assurance of rewards beyond the
grave-that exulting and seraphic cheerfulness which associates Joy
with the Creator-and that animated affection for the Brotherhood
of Mankind, which Christianity-and Christianity alone, in its puro
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284
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SECOND
PERIOD.
orthodox gospel form, needing no aid from schoolman or philosopher
-taught and teaches.
1 Schiller himself, in some of his characteristic remarks upon the
true aim of Art, (viz., the Beautiful,) says, referring to this poem-
The gods of Greece, whom I place in the foreground, are only the
lovable qualities of the Greek Mythology collected together in one
picture."-ScaILLER'S Correspondence with KÖRNER.-N. B. Ir
oitations from this correspondence I generally employ the translation
by Mr. Simpson.
VIL
:
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​HYMN TO JOY.
HYMN TO JOY.
M
THE origin of the following Hymn is said to be this:-Schiller,
when at Leipsic, or its vicinity, saved a poor student of theology, im-
pelled by destitution and the fear of starvation, from drowning
himself in the river Pleisse. Schiller gave him what money he had;
obtained his promise to relinquish the thought of suicide, at least
while the money lasted; and a few days afterward, amidst the
convivialities of a marriage feast, related the circumstance so as to
affect all present. A subscription was made which enabled the
student to complete his studies, and ultimately to enter into an off-
cial situation. Elated with the success of his humanity, it is to
Humanity that Schiller consecrated this ode.-N. B. There is a
slight variation in the meter in the translation from that in the ori
ginal.
SP
YPARK from the fire that Gods have fed—
Joy-thou Elysian Child divine,
Fire-drunk, our airy footsteps tread,
O Holy One! thy holy shrine.
Strong custom rends us from each other-
Thy magic all together brings;
And man in man but hails a brother,
Wherever rest thy gentle wings.
Chorus-Embrace, ye millions-let this kiss,
Brothers, embrace the earth below'
Yon starry worlds that shine on this,
One common Father know!
285
He who this lot from fate can grasp→
Of one true friend the friend to be--
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286 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
He who one faithful maid can clasp,
Shall hold with us his jubilee ;
Yes, each who but one sinful heart
In all the earth can claim his own!-
Let him who cannot, stand apart,
And weep beyond the pale, alone!
Chorus-Homage to sacred Sympathy,
All ye within Creation's ring;
Up to yon star-pavilions-she
Leads to the Unknown King!
All being drinks the mother-dew
Of joy from Nature's holy bosom ;
And Vice and Worth alike pursue
Her steps that strew the blossom.
On us¹ the grape-on us the kiss-
On us is faithful love bestowed;
And on the worm the sensual bliss;
And on the Cherub, room by God!
Chorus—And wherefore prostrate fall, ye millions ?
No, starward lift adoring eyes;
For throned above the star-pavilions
Dwells He who built the skies.
Joy is the mainspring in the whole
Of endless Nature's calm rotation,
Joy moves the dazzling wheels that roll
In the great Time-piece of Creation:
>

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HYMN TO JOY.
Joy breathes on buds, and flowers they are;
Joy beckons suns come forth from heaven;
Joy rolls the spheres in realms afar,
Ne'er to thy glass, dim Wisdom, given!
Chorus-Joyous as Suns careering gay
Along their royal paths on high,
March, Brothers, march your dauntless
way,
As Chiefs to Victory!
Joy. from Truth's pure and lambent fires,
Smiles out upon the ardent seeker;
Joy leads to Virtue Man's desires,
And cheers as Suffering's step grows weaker.
High from the sunny slopes of Faith,
The gales her waving banners buoy;
And through the shattered vaults of Death,
Lo, mid the choral Angels-Joy!
Chorus-Then, bravely bear this life, ye millions-
Bear this for that beyond the sod,
Assured that o'er the star-pavilions
Reward awaits with God.
And fair it is like gods to be,
Although their gifts we ne'er requite:
Go, soothe the pangs of Misery-
Go, share the gladness with Delight.-
Levenge and hatred both forgot,
Have naught but pardon for thy foe;
I
287
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288
May sharp repentance grieve him not—
No curse one tear of ours bestow!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Chorus-Let all the world be peace and love—
Cancel thy debt-book with thy brother;
For God shall judge of us above,
As we shall judge each other'
Joy sparkles to us from the bowl-
Behold the juice whose golden color
To meekness melts the savage soul,
And gives Despair a Hero's valor.
Up, Brothers!-Brothers all, arise,
And fill the goblet to the brim-
Now while the wine foams to the skies,
TO THE GOOD SPIRIT this glass-To HIM!
Chorus-Praised by the ever-whirling ring
Of Stars, and tuneful Seraphim—
TO THE GOOD SPIRIT-the Father-King
In Heaven!-this glass to Him!
Firm mind to bear what Fate bestows;
Comfort to tears in sinless eyes;
Faith kept alike with Friends and Foes;
Man's Oath eternal as the skies;
Manhood-the thrones of Kings to girth,
At whatsoever cost the prize,
Success to Merit's honest worth,
Perdition to the Brood of Lies!
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THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.
Chorus--Draw closer in the holy ring,
THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.
ģ
Swear by the wine-cup's golden river—
Swear by the Stars, and by their King,
To keep our vow forever!
1 To us, emphatically. Schiller means to discriminate the measure
of bliss assigned to us (Mankind), to the worm and to the cherub.
+
289
SHE
E comes, she comes-the Burden of the
Deeps!
Beneath her wails the Universal Sea!
With clanking chains and a new God, she sweeps.
And with a thousand thunders, unto thee!
The ocean-castles and the floating hosts-
Ne'er on their like, looked the wild waters!
Well
May man the monster name " Invincible."
O'er shuddering waves she gathers to thy coasts!
The horror that she spreads can claim
Just title to her haughty name.
Before thee, the array,
Blest island, Empress of the Sea!
·
The trembling Neptune quails
Under the silent and majestic forms;
The Doom of Worlds in those dark sails;-
Near and more near she sweeps! And slumber all
the Storms!
}

UPA, 53*.
1
1

290
The sea-born squadrons threaten thee
And thy great heart, BRITANNIA!
Woe to thy people, of their freedom proud-
She rests, a thunder heavy in its cloud!
Who, to thy hand, the orb and sceptre gave,
Thon that should'st be the sovereign of the na-
tions?
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCIIILLER.
To tyrant kings thou wert thyself the slave,
Till Freedom dug from Law its deep founda-
tions;
The mighty CHART thy citizens made kings,
And kings to citizens sublimely bowed!
And thou thyself, upon thy realm of water,
Hast thou not rendered millions up to slaughter,
When thy ships brought upon their sailing wings
The scepter-and the shroud?
What should'st thou thank?-Blush, Earth, to hear
and feel:
What should'st thou thank?-thy genius and thy
steel!
Behold the hidden and the giant fires!
Behold thy glory trembling to its fall!
Thy coming down the round earth shall appall,
And all the hearts of freemen beat for thee,
And all free souls their fate in thine foresec-
Theirs is thy glory's fall!
One look below the Almighty gave,
Where streamed the lion-flags of thy proud foe;
And near and wider yawned the horrent grave.
f
{

THE CONFLICT.
291
"And who," saith HE, "shall lay mine England
low-
The stem that blooms with hero deeds-
The rock when man from wrong a refuge needs—
The stronghold where the tyrant comes in vain?
Who shall bid England vanish from the main?
Ne'er be this only Eden Freedom knew,
Man's stout defense from Power, to Fate con.
signed."
God the Almighty blew,
And the Armada went to every wind!
THE CONFLICT.
No!
[O! I this conflict longer will not wage,
The conflict Duty claims-the giant task;-
Thy spells, O Virtue, never can assuage
The heart's wild fire ;-this offering do not ask!
True, I have sworn-a solemn vow have sworn,
That I myself will curb the self within;
Yot take thy wreath, no more it shall be worn-
Take back thy wreath, and leave me free to sin.
Rent be the contract I to thee did plight;
She loves me-loves !-thy forfeit crown recall'
Blessed is he who, drunken with delight,
Falls like myself, how deep soe'er the fall!
KRAJU BIGAN N
2

292
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Her heart the worm that wastes my own divines,-
My blighted spring with pitying eyes she sees;
And, for the all my hero soul resigns;
A hero's guerdon tenderly decrees.
¡ Distrust this angel purity, fair soul!
It is to guilt thy pity armeth me;
Could Being lavish its unmeasured whole,
Hath it a gift that can compare with Thee!
With the dear guilt I ever seek to shun?
O tyranny of fate, O wild desires!
My virtue's only crown can but be won
In that last breath-when virtue's self expires!
RESIGNATION.
AND I, too, was amidst Arcadia born,
And Nature seemed to woo me;
$
And to my cradle such sweet joys were sworn :
And I, too, was amidst Arcadia born,
Yet the short spring gave only tears unto me!
Life but one blooming holiday can keep-
For me the bloom is fled;
The silent Genius of the darker Sleep
furns down my torch-and weep, my brethren,
weep-
Weep, for the light is dead!
Į
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RESIGNATION.
Upon thy bridge the shadows round me press,
O dread Eternity!
And I have known no moment that can bless;-
Take back this letter meant for Happiness-
The seal's unbroken-see!
Before thee, Judge, whose eyes the dark-spun vail
Conceals, my murmur came;
On this our orb a glad belief prevails,
That thine the earthly scepter and the scales,
REQUITER is thy name.
Terrors, they say, thou dost for Vice prepare,
And joys the good shall know;
Thou canst the heart through all its windings bare,
Thou canst the riddle of our fate declare,
And keep account with Woe.
With thee a home smiles for the exiled one-
293
There ends the thorny strife.
Unto my sight a godlike vision won,
Called TRUTH (few know her, and the many shun).
And checked the reins of life.
"I will repay thee in the world to be-
Give thou to me thy youth;
Naught save this surety can I grant to thee!"
heard, and trusting in the world to be,
Gave my young joys to Truth.
"Give me thy Laura, dearest to thy heart,
And I, beyond the grave,
Will tenfold pay thee every pang to part."
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294
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
I tore her bleeding from the wounded heart,
And wept aloud-and gave.
Laughed out the world" The bond thou trustest to
Is drawn upon the Dead.
The tool of despots palmed upon thy view
A shade, and called it Truth-this bond is due
The day thy days are sped."
"Tremblest thou," hissed the serpent brood in
scorn,
"Before the vain deceit ?
Made holy by convention, stale and worn,
Gods of Man's need and of Man's cunning born-
The sick world's solemn cheat?
What is this Future underneath the stone
Which earth-born never saw?
Why is it reverenced, but because unknown?
A shadow on the glass of Conscience thrown
By our own craven awe.-
Life's counterfeit, by Hope the fair deceiver,
Embalmed, with death to lie!
Time's bloodless mummy, niched in tombs forever,
Which the craz'd fancy of delirious fever
Calls 'Immortality !'
Giv'st thou sure joy for hope that disappears
Into corrupted mold?
Death has been silent for six thousand years;
Nor from the grave one corpse to living ears
Of the Requiter told."
I saw Time flying to thy promised shore;
Behind him bloomless now,
I

昨
​RESIGNATION.
Nature lay corpse-like ;-silent, as of yore,
Was Death—and still my trustful soul the more
Clung to thy solemn vow.-
Judge!-all my joys to thee did I resign,
All that did most delight me;
And now I kneel;-man's scorn I scorned, -thy
shrine
Have I adored;-Thee only held divine;
Requiter, now requite me
1
"For all my sons an equal love I know,
And equal each condition,"
Answered an unseen Genius-" See below,
Two flowers, for all who rightly seek them, blow-
The HOPE and the FRUITION.
He who has plucked the one, resigned must see
The sister's forfeit bloom:
Let Unbelief enjoy-Belief must be
All to the chooser;-the world's history
295
Is the world's judgment doom.
Thou hast had HOPE-in thy belief thy prize—
Thy bliss was centered in it:
Thou might'st have learned, hadst thou but asked
the wise,
That all Eternity ne'er resupplies,
The sum struck from the minute '"'
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296
POEMS AND LALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE GODS OF GREECE.
YE
E in the age gone by,
Who ruled the world—a world how lovely
then!-
I.
And guided still the steps of happy men
In the light leading-strings of careless joy!
Ah, flourished then your service of delight!
How differcnt, oh, how different, in the day
When thy sweet fanes with many a wreath were
bright,
O Venus Amathusia!
II.
Then, the soft vail of dreams
Round Truth poetic, witching Fancies wreathed;
Through all creation overflowed the streams
Of Life-and things now senseless, felt and
breathed.
Man gifted Nature with divinity
To lift and link her to the breast of Love;
All things betrayed to the initiate eyo
The track of gods above!
III.
Where lifeless, fixed afar,
A flaming ball to our dull sense is given,
KONTRAK ESAMINEKU WRENAMEN
PRESTATZEA tanah akav seriens

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THE GODS OF GREECE.
Phoebus Apollo, in his golden car,
In silent glory swept the fields of heaven!
Then lived the Dryads in yon forest trees;
Then o'er yon mountains did the Oread roam;
And from the urns of gentle Naïades
Welled the wave's silver foam.
IV.
Yon bay, chaste Daphnè wreathed,
Yon stone was mournful Niobe's mute cell;
Low through yon sedges pastoral Syrinx breathed
297
And through those groves melodious Philomel;
The tears of Ceres swelled in yonder rill-
Tears shed for Prosperine, to Hades borne ;
And, for her lost Adonis. yonder hill
Heard Cytherea mourn !—
V.
Celestials left their skies
To mingle with thy race, Deucalion;
And Pyrrha's daughters saw, in shepherd guise,
Amid Thessalian vales, Latona's son.
Beautiful links with Gods and Heroes then,
The Loves uniting, interwove for us;
Heroes and Gods were worshipers with Men
In Cyprian Amathus!
VI.
Your gentle service gay,
Nor self-denial, nor sharp ponance knew;
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Well might each heart be happy in that day——
For, were the happy not akin to you?
The Beautiful alone the Holy there!
No pleasure shamed the Gods of that young race;
So that the chaste Camænæ favoring were,
And the subduing Grace!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
VII.
Your shrines were palacos;
Your honoring Ministrants were heroes crowned;
Your rites were sports-the Isthmian jubilees-
And chariots thundering o'er Olympian ground.
Fair round the altar where the incense breathed,
Moved your melodious dance inspired; and fair
Above victorious brows, the garland wreathed
Sweet leaves round odorous hair!
VIII.
The shouting Thyrsus-swinger,
And the wild car the exulting Panthers bore,
Announced the Presence of the Rapture-Bringer-
Bounded the Satyr and blithe Faun before;
And Mænads, as the frenzy stung the soul,
Hymned, in their madding dance, the glorious
wine-
As ever beckoned to the lusty bowl
The ruddy Host divine!
IX.
Before the bed of death
No ghastly specter stood :—but from the porch
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Of life the lip-one kiss inhaled the breath,
And a mute Genius gently lowered his torch.
The judgment-balance of the realms below,
A judge, himself of mortal lineage, held;
The very Furies, at the Thracian's woe,
Were moved and music-spelled.
THE GODS OF GREECE.
X.
In the Elysian grove
The Shades renewed the pleasures life held dear:
The faithful spouse rejoined remembered love,
And rushed along the meads the charioteer;
There Linus poured the old accustomed strain ;
Admetus there Alcestis still could greet;
His friend once more Orestes could regain,
His arrows-Philoctete !¹
no
XI.
More glorious than the meeds
To Labor choosing Virtue's path sublime,
The grand achievers of renowned deeds
Up to the seats of Gods themselves could climb.
Before the dauntless Rescuer² of the dead,
Bowed down the silent and Immortal Host;
And the twin Stars' their guiding luster shed,
On the bark tempest-tost!
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XII.
Art thou, fair world, no more?
Return, thou virgin-bloom, on Nature's face
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Ah, only on the Minstrel's magic shore,
Can we the footstep of sweet Fable trace!
The meadows mourn for the oid hallowing life;
Vainly we search the earth of gods bereft;
And where the image with such warmth was rife,
A shade alone is left'
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XIII.
Cold, from the North, has gone
Over the flowers the blast that killed their May;
And, to enrich the worship of the ONE,
A Universe of Gods must pass away
Mourning, I search on yonder starry steeps,
But thee no more, Selene, there I see!
And through the woods I call, and o'er the deeps.
No voice replies to me!
XIV.
Deaf to the joys she gives—
Blind to the pomp of which she is possest-
Unconscious of the spiritual Power that lives
Around, and rules her-by our bliss unblest-
Dull to the Art that colors or creates,
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Like the dead time-piece, godless NATURE creeps
Hor plodding round, and, by the leaden weights.
The slavish motion keeps.
XV.
To-morrow to receive
New life, she digs her proper grave to-day;
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THE GODS OF GREECE.
And icy moons with weary sameness weave
From their own light their fullness and decay.
Home to the Poet's Land the Gods are flown,
Light use in them that later world discerns,
Which, the diviner leading-strings outgrown,
On its own axle turns.
301
XVI.
Home! and with them are gone
The hues they gazed on and the tones they
heard ;
Life's Beauty and life's Melody :-alone
Broods o'er the desolate void the lifeless Word;
Yet, rescued from Time's deluge, still they throng
Unseen the Pindus they were wont to cherish;
Ah, that which gains immortal life in Song,
To mortal life must perish!
1 Philoktet.-I venture, from the same necessity of euphony and
meter, to take the same liberty with the Greek name Philoctotes,
which Schiller has not scrupled to assume as a just poetic license.
2 Hercules, who recovered from the Shades Alcestis, after she had
given her own life to save her husband Admetus. Alcostis in the
hands of Euripides (that woman-hater, as he is called!) becomes the
loveliest female creation in the Greek Drama.
3 i. e.-Castor and Pollux are transferred to the Stars, Hercules to
Olympus, for their deeds on earth.
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
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THE ARTISTS.
This justly ranks amongst Schiller's noblest poems. He confessed
that he had hitherto written nothing that so much pleased him-
nothing to which he had given so much time." It forms one of the
many pieces he has devoted to the Progross of Man. "The Eleusi-
nian Festival" records the social benefits of Agriculture; "The Four
Ages" panegyrizes the influence of Poetry in all times; "The Walk"
traces, in a quick succession of glowing pictures, the development-
of general civilization; "The Lay of the Bell" commemorates the
stages of Life; and "The Artists," by some years the earliest of the
Series, is an elaborate exposition of the effect of Art (ie., the Fine
Arts) upon the happiness and dignity of the Human Species-a lofty
IIymn in honor of Intellectual Beauty. Herein are collected, into a
symmetrical and somewhat argumentative whole, many favorite
ideas of Schiller, which the reader will recognize as scattered through-
out his other effusions. About the time when this Poem was coin-
posed, the narrow notions of a certain School of miscalled Utilitarians
were more prevalent than they deserved; and this fine composition.
is perhaps the most eloquent answer ever given to those thinkers,
who have denied the Morality of Fiction, and considered Poets rather
the Perverters than the Teachers of the World. Perhaps, in his just
Defense of Art, Schiller has somewhat underrated the dignity of
Science; but so many small Philosophers have assailed the divine
use of Poetry, that it may be pardoned to the Poet to vindicate his
Art in somewhat too arrogant a tone of retaliation. And it may be
fairly contended that Fiction (the several forms of which are com-
prehended under the name of Art) has exercised an earlier, a more
comprehensive, and a more genial influence over the Civilization and
the Happiness of Man, than nine-tenths of that investigation of Facts
which is the pursuit of Science.
In the former Edition of these Translations, I thought it desirable
not to adopt the various irregularities in meter to be found in the
original. In this Edition, however, much of the Translation is en-
tirely rewritten; and I have generally followed Schiller n his alter-
nation of the Lyrical and Didactic. This version is more verbally
close than the former one, although the occasional obscurity, and
compression of the original have roi.dered it necessary, as before,
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sometimes to develop and paraphrase the sense-to translate the ides
as well as the words. For the yet clearer exposition of the train of
thought which Schiller pursues, the Poem has been divided into sec-
tions, and the Argument of the whole prefixed. If any passages in
the version should still appear obscure to those readers who find the
mind of Schiller worth attentive study, even when deprived of the
melodious language which clothed its thoughts, by referring to the
Argument the sense will perhaps become sufficiently obvious
THE ARTISTS.
¹ It will be seen, by a note to the text, that it was Wieland who
suggested to Schiller the lines on which this preference, before im-
plied, is more emphatically asserted.
ARGUMENT.
SEOT. 1. Man regarded in his present palmy state of civilization-
free through Reason, strong through Law-the Lord of Nature. (2.)
But let him not forget his gratitude to ART, which found him the
Savage, and by which his powers have been developed-his soul re-
fined. Let him not degenerate from serving ART, the Queen-to a
preference for her handmaids, the Sciences. The Bee and the Worm
excel him in diligence and mechanical craft-the Seraph in knowledge
-but Art is Man's alone. (3.) It is through the Beautiful that Man
gains the Intuition of Law and Knowledge, and the spiritual World.
(4) The supposed discoveries of Philosophy were long before re-
vealed as symbols to Feeling. Virtue charmed and Vice revolted
before the Laws of Solon, and Man, gazing on the Stars, guested at
Eternity before the Sage ventured the attempt to prove it. (5.)
That Goddess which in Heaven is Urania-the great Deity whom
only pure Spirits can behold-descends to earth as the earthly Venus
-viz., the Beautiful. She adapts herself to the childlike understand-
Ing. But what we now only adore as Beauty, we shall one day ro-
cognize as Truth. (6.) After the Fall of Man, this Goddess--viz., the
Beautiful (comprehending Poetry and Art) alone deigned to con-
sole him, and painted on the walls of his Dungeon the Shapes of Ely-
sium (7.) While Men only worshiped the Beautiful, no Fanati
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cism hallowed Persecution and Human Sacrifice-without formal
Law, without compulsion, they obeyed Virtue rather as an instinct than
в duty. (8.) Those dedicated to her service (viz., the Poet and the
Artist) hold the highest intellectual rank Man can obtain. (9.) Be-
fore Art introduced its own symmetry and method into the world,
all was chaos. (10.) You, the Artists, contemplated Nature, and
learned to imitate; you observed the light shaft of the cedar, the
shadow on the wave. (11.) Thus rose the first Column of the Sculp-
tor-the first Design of the Painter-and the wind sighing through
the reed suggested the first Music. (12.) Art's first attempt was in
the first choice of flowers for a posy; its second, the weaving of those
flowers into a garland-i, e., Art first observes and selects-next
blends and unites-the column is ranged with other columns-the
individual Hero becomes one of a heroic army-the rude Song becomes
an Iliad. (18.) The effect produced by Homeric Song, in noble emu-
lation-nor in this alone; Man learns to live in other woes than his
own-to feel pleasures beyond animal enjoyments. (14.) And as this
diviner intellectual feeling is developed, are developed also Thought
and Civilization. (15.) In the rudest state of Man, you, the Artists,
recognize in his breast the spiritual germ, and warm it into life-true
and holy Love awoke with the first Shepherd's love-song. (16.) It
is you, the Artists, who, generalizing and abstracting, gather all seve-
ral excellencies into one ideal.-You thus familiarize Man to the no-
tion of the Unknown Powers, whom you invest with the attributes
Man admires and adores.-He fears the Unknown, but he loves its
shadow. You suffered the Nature around him to suggest the Proto-
type of all Beauty. (17.) You make subject to your ends--the pas-
sion, the duty, and the instinct-All that is scattered through crea-
tion you gather and concentrate, and resolve to the Song or to the
Stage-Even the murderer who has escaped justice, conscience-
stricken by the Eumenides on the scene, reveals himself-Long be-
fore Philosophy hazarded its dogmas, an Iliad solved the riddles of
Fate-And with the wain of Thespis wandered a Providence. (18.)
Where your symmetry, your design, fail in this world, they extend
into the world beyond the grave-Life compared to an arch, the seg-
ment of a circle-in order to complete the circle, your eye followed
It through the grave, where the torch of Castor is extinguished, that
of his twin brother, Pollux, is illumed-the former compared to that
portion of the moon which is in darkness, the latter to that portion
which is light.-(The allusion to the new moon continues the image
of the circle, which is complete, though one-half is invisible.) (19.)
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
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THE ARTISTA.
305
Not contented with bestowing immortality on Man-you furnish
forth from Man the ideal of the Immortals--Virgin Beauty grows
into a Pallas-manly strength into a Jove. (20.) As the world with-
out you is thus enlarged, and the world within you agitated and en-
riched, your Art extends to Philosophy:-For as the essentials of
Art are symmetry and design, so the Artist extends that symmetry
and that design into the system of Creation, the Laws of Nature, the
Government of the World;-Lends to the spheres its own harmony
-to the Universe its own symmetric method. (21.) The Artist, thus
recognizing Contrivance everywhere, feels his life surrounded with
Beauty-He has before him in Nature itself an eternal model of the
Perfect and Consummate-Through joy-grief-terror-wherever
goes his course-one stream of harmony murmurs by his side--The
Graces are his companions-his life glides away amidst airy shapes
of Beauty-His soul is merged in the divine ocean that flows around
him. Fate itself, which is reduced from Chance into Providence,
and which furnishes him with themes of pleasurable awe, does not
daunt him. (22.) You, Artists, are the sweet and trusty companions
of life-You gave us what life has best-Your reward is your own
Immortality and the gratitude of Men's hearts. (23.) You are the
imitators of the Divine Artist, who accompanies power with sweet-
ness, terror with splendor; who adorns himself oven in destroying-
As a brook that reflects the evening landscape, so on the niggard
stream of life shimmers Poetry. You lead us on to the Unknown
Bourne, and robe even Death in the garments of a bride.-As your
Urns deck our Bones, so your fair semblances deck our cares.-
Through the history of the world, we find that Humanity smiles in
your presence and mourns in your absence. (24.) Iumanity came
young from your hands, and when it grew old and decayed, you gave
it a second youth.-Time has bloomed twice from seeds sown by
Art. (25.) When the Barbarians chased Civilization from Greecc,
you transplanted it to Italy-and, with Civilization, freedom and
gentle manners-Then you retired to leave free scope for the moderu
genius you had aroused. (26.) If the Philosopher now pursues his
course without obstacles—if he now would arrogate the crown, and
hold Art but as the first Slave to Science-pardon his vain boast.-
Completion and Perfection in reality rest with you.-With you
dawned the Spring, in yon is matured the Harvest, of the Moral
World. (27.) For although Art sprung first from physical mate-
rials-the clay and the stone-it soon also embraced in its scope the
spiritual ani intellectual-Even what Science discovers only minis
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ters to Art.-The Philosopher obtains his first hints from the Poet
or Artist--and when his wisdom dowers, as it were, into beauty, it
but returns to the service, and is applied to the uses, of its instruc-
Jor-When the Philosopher contemplates the Natural World, side
by side with the Artist-the more the Latter accumulates images of
beauty, and unites the details of the great design, the more the For-
mer enriches the sphere of his observation-the more profound his
research-the more bold his speculations-The Imagination always
Assists the Reason-And Art, which teaches Philosophy to see Art
(ie., Symmetry and Design) everywhere, may humble the Philos-
pher's pride, but it augments his love. Thus scattering flowers,
Poetry leads on through tones and forms, ever high and higher, pure
and purer, till it shall at last attain that point when Poetry becomes
but sudden inspiration and the instantaneous intuition of Truth;- -
when, in fact, the Art sought by the Poet, the Truth sought by the
Philosopher, become one. (28.) Then this great Goddess, whom we
have hitherto served as the earthly Venus, the Beautiful-shall re-
assume her blazing crown-and Man, to whose earlier and initiatory
probation she has gently familiarized her splendor, shall behold her
without a vail-not as the Venus of Earth, but as the Urania of
Heaven-Her beauty comprehended by him in proportion to the beau-
ty his soul took from her-So from the Mentor of his youth shone forth
Minerva to Telemachus. (29.) To you, O Artists, is committed the
dignity of Man-It sinks with you, it revives with you. (80.) In
those Ages when Truth is persecuted by the Bigotry of her own time,
let her seek refuge in Song.-The charm she takes from the Muse
but renders her more fearful to her Focs. (81.) Aspire then con-
atantly, O Artist, to the Supremest Beautiful-covet no meaner re-
wards. If the Moral escape you, search for it in Nature.-Remember
that the excellent and the perfect ever must be found in whatsoever
fair souls esteem fair.-Do not bound yourselves to your own time-
Let your works reflect the shadow of the coming Age-It matters not
what paths you select-You have before you the whole labyrinth of
being-but all its paths for you unite at one throne-As the white
breaks to seven tirts, as the seven tints redissolve into white-
so Truth 18 the same, whether she dazzles us with the splendor of
variegated colors, or pervades the Universe with one Stream of
Light.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
B
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THE ARTISTS.
I.
AIR, with thy symbol bough of peaceful palm,
Fair dost thou stand, in Manhood's lofty calm.
On the still century's verge, O Man, sublime!
Each sense unfolded, all the soul mature,
Grand in the rest which glorious deeds secure--
Gentle and firm-the ripest-born of Time!
August through meekness; free through Reason
strong
Through Law-and rich with treasures hoarded long
In thy still bosom-Nature's sovereign Lord--
Who, while she yielded loving to thy will,
In thousand conflicts disciplin'd thy skill,
As from the desert with thyself she soar'd,
II.
Vain of thy victory, do not scorn,
Nor prize the less the fostering hand
That found thee weeping and forlorn,
An orphan on Life's barren strand;
That seiz'd from lawless Chance its prey,
Led thy young step with still control,
To track betimes the glimmering way
To Art's spiritual goal;
And from thy soft'ning breast exil'd
Each instinct of the earlier wild.
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Honor the Kind One, who, through gentle play
To lofty duties lured thy list'ning youth,
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POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Who through light fables cheered thy sportive way
To the grave mysteries of sublimest Truth!
And but to stranger arms consign'd, once more
To clasp her darling, riper for her lore!
O, fall not back from that high faith serene,
To serve the handmaids and forsake the Queen;-
In diligent toil thy master is the bee;
In craft mechanical a rival own
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In the por silk-worm; Seraphs share with thee
Knowledge: But ART, O Man, is thine alone!
III.
Through Beauty, to the Land where Knowledge lies,
As through the Gates of Morning, went thy way;
And Twilight's vailing charm inured thine eyes
To the full blaze of the majestic day.
What first thy heart its strength did teach,
When thrill'd by music's earlier strings,
Invoked the Power that sprang to reach
The Soul of all created things!
IV,
What, after many a weary age in time,
By hoary Roason was laborious shown,
Lay in the symbol types of the Sublime
And Beautiful: intuitively known
To the pure childhood of the simple mind.
Virtue's fair shape to virtue love could draw,
From vice a gentler impulse warned away,

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THE ARTISTS
* Strand J
Ere yet a Solon sow'd the formal law
That flowered reluctant to the tardy ray.
Before the sage expressed, the heart divined;
Ere the bold grasp of Science could embrace
The eternal scheme that knits the worlds on high,
Who ever gazed upon the starry space,
Nor guess'd, so gazing, at Eternity?
V.
She, the great Power on whose majestic blaze,
When ring'd Orions diadem her brow,
None save the purest spirits dare to gaze,
While o'er the paling stars that round her bow
She takes her seat upon her sunlit throne,
Is as URANIA known.¹
But, laid aside her fiery crown,
She comes to earth as BEAUTY down;
The Graces' girdle then she wears,
And suiting lore to childlike ears,
She takes the shape of childhood while below;
Yet both the holy forms are one,
And what as BEAUTY here is won
We shall as TRUTH in some hereafter know.
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VI.
When the Creator from his presence cast
Man to thy dark abyss-Mortality—
To seek the late return to glory past,
Amidst the dim paths of the sensual clay,
When every heavenlier Nature from his eye
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Vail'd its bright face, and swept in scorn away;
She only-she, in the low Human cell,
Herself made human, deign'd with him to dwell-
Stoop'd round her darling, wings soft brooding;
fann'd
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
With freshening airs the Sense's barren land;
And, kind in bright delusions, limn'd, with all
The lost Elysium, life's sad dungeon-wall.
VII.
Ah, in that tender Nurse's cradling arms-
While yet reposed the mild Humanity—
No dire religion lent to Murder charms,
No victim's blood reek'd guiltless to the sky;
Ever the heart her gentle fetter binds
Scorns the cold slavery of Prescription dull;
Still in the Moral, howsoe'er they wind,
Merge the bright wanderings of the Beautiful;
Low impulse tempts not, nor can Fate appall
Those who her service chaste and pure obey;
They dwell as under some diviner sway;
In their own lives spiritual life recall:
Free and unsinning as before the Fall.
Ma
VIII.
Purest amid the millions earth has known,
They to her ministry devoutly bound;
They in whose bosoms she has built her throne;
They from whose lips her oracles resound;
They whom her choice selects to guard her shrine,
And feed the altars that forever shine:
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THE ARTISTS.
Link'd to each other round herself,-alone
To their chaste eyes her face unvailed is shown.
Enjoy, O Nature's noblest lords,
The place your chartered right insures:
The high spiritual world affords
No rank to mortal-born like yours!
i
IX.
Ere yet unto the early world ye brought
SYMMETRY—now through the glad Whole obeyed,
An uncouth mass loom'd, struggling out of naught,
With sickly glimmers through the night's swart
shade.
Round it did phantom hosts conflicting throng,
Binding the sense in iron slavish thrall;
Rude as itself, confus'dly storm'd along
A thousand Powers, and each at war with all ;-
So seem'd Creation to Man's savage breast,
When to the bright phenomena around
But by brute passions bound;
When, all-escaping from the blinded eye,
And all unheeded, unenjoyed, unguest,
The lovely Soul of Nature pass'd him by.
311
X.
Lo, as it pass'd him, with a noiseless hand,
And tender instinct, each fair neighboring shade
YE seized; and sought in one harmonious band
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To link the images your eyes survey'd!
Your look, light-soaring, mark'd the cedar rear
Its slender shaft, and track'd it as it rose;
Ye saw the sportive image mirror'd clear
Back from the crystal the smooth wave bestows.
How could ye fail the gentle hints to note
Which kind suggestive Nature did impart?
How mark the imitative image float,
Nor catch the glimpse of imitative Art?
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Sever'd, Nature, from thy being,
Thy sweet phantom-shadow stray'd;
And on streams in silver fleeing,
Was the willing captive made.
Now, with quick-conceiving thought,
Now with eager forming hand,
Home the sportive shade ye brought—
Fixed it in the clay and sand.
Pleased with the toil which life itself bestows,
Thus from your breasts the First Creation rose
XI.
Seized by the power of thoughtful,contemplation.
Snared by the eye that stole what it surveyed,
The talisman that charms in each creation
The fair familiar images betrayed:
Your quicken'd sense perceived the guiding laws;
Your mellowing reason led you to invent;
Ye mark'd how beauty close to beauty draws,
And scattered graces into union blent :-
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THE ARTISTS.
Thas rise-tall Obelisk, and vast Pyramid-
The Hermes stands-the Column soars on high
The woodland music skills the oaten reed,
And Song forbids victorious deeds to die.
"
XII
The happier choice of flowers most sweet or fair,
To weave the posy for some Shepherd Maid,
Lo, the first Art, from Nature born, is there!—
Then do the flowers combine into the braid,
And wreaths attest that second, loftier art,
Which blends in one the blooms before apart!
But, when thus blent, its individual grace
Each offspring of the Beautiful must lose;"
Proportion, now according each its place,
Confounds the separate with the common hues.
Charm'd into scheme by the symmetric hand,
Column with column ranged, proud Fanes aspire ;
The Hero melts amidst the Hero Band;
And the oat-reed becomes the Homeric Lyre.
2
XIII.
Soon round this new Creation in great Song
Barbarian wonder gather'd and believed;
See," cried the emulous and kindled throng,
"The deeds a Mortal like ourselves achieved!"
Grouped into social circles near and far,
Listing the wild tales of the Titan war,
Of giants piled beneath the rocks,-and caves
Grim with the lion some stout hero braves:
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Still, while theo Minstrel sung, the listeners grew
Themselves the Heroes his high fancy drew.
Then first did Man the soul's enjoyment find,
First know the calmer raptures of the mind
Not proved by sense-but from the distance brought;
The joy at deeds himself had never wrought,—
Which his own greed, unlike less pure desire,
Does not to his own being lustful draw,"
Incorporate with the matter which it fires,
And subject to the same material law;
But as it comes not at the passion's call,
No passions rend, and no enjoyments pall.
3
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XIV.
Then did the wings, on heavenlier air,
The Soul from sensual slumbers buoy;
Your hands unchained the Slave of Care,
To spring into the breast of Joy;
The Brutal bounds no more his reign;
His front, his human birthright shows;
And forth from out the startled brain,.
Thought, the majestic Stranger, goes.
Now stands THE MAN, and to warrd the star
His aspect rears-The Kingly One!
He looks with speaking eyes afar,
And thanks, for kindred light, the Sun:
And smiles have blossomed from his cheek,
And feeling swims in moistened eyes;
And soulful sounds disporting seck
To vent in song their melodies ;
X

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THE ARTISTS.
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And Jest and Grace their charms unite
On lips from which there flows delight.
XV.
Sunk in the instincts of the worm,
Enclasped with every sensual thrall,
Ye marked beneath his breast the germ
That flowers to Love Spiritual;
And that the germ at last arose
From cut the base defiling clay,
That heavenlier love man surely owes
To the first simple Shepherd's lay.
Ennobled, then, by gentler thought,
Wild passion knew restraining shame;
In song a chaster voice it sought,
And from the lips in music came
Then did the cheek the tale confess,
And blush beneath the tears that stole;
And Longing, by its own excess,
Proclaimed the link of soul to soul.
IVI.
Where'er, amid your human race,
Ye marked, in some more noble son,
Supremest wisdom, strength, or grace,
Yo knit those powers in sweet embrace,
And fixed them into one.
And round that one, which typed the whole,
Diffused your glorious aureole.
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316
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The Mortal shrinks from Powers unknown,
But loves their shadows downward thrown;"
And every statelier hero glowed
To rival some reflected God.
By you was thus the earliest sound
Of the Ideal Beauty given,
As in the Natural World ye found,
And showed the Prototypes of Heaven!
XVII.
Th Passions wild that throng the soul,
And Fortune's lawless sports with man,
Duty and instinct's hard control
Ye marked with sympathetic scan,
And gave the involved and jarring whole,
The purpose and the plan.
What Nature, as she whirls along,
Serers and scatters far and wide,
Were, on the Boards, or in the Song,
Once more linked light to Order's side.
Murder yet undetected sees
Your vengeful choir, Eumenides!
And doth from Song, while safe from Law,
On its own head the thunder draw."
Long ere the wise the scheme of Fate revolved,
Its dark enigmas had an Iliad solved
To the young simple age;
And its mild lessons Providence began,"
When wandering still into the world of Man.
With the rude Thespian stuge.
+
!
*
1


THE ARTISTS.
XVIII.
་
Nay, where symmetric Order paused, perplexed,
In this world's scheme your art divined the next
Practiced too soon, ere yet the whole ye saw,'
To seek completion as the natural law.
What though, before uncomprehended doom,
God's grand design seemed broken at the tomb-
Though the brave heart was prematurely stilled,
And life's fair circle halted unfulfilled,
Yet here, ev'n here, your own unaided might
Prolonged the Arch to close its round in Night;
Led the untrembling Spirit on to go
*
317
Toward its full course, though under deeps below;
And bade the life that left your eyes, return
Again to love, in shcres beyond the urn;
There, where, his torch extinct, doth Castor sink.
His blooming brother gilds the gloomier brink
Of the half-circle, with his starry light;
And the dark image still confronts the bright;
So to one half the moon doth shadow cling,
Ere the disk rounps into the silver ring.
XIX.
High, and more high, the aspiring Genius goes,
And still creation from creation flows;
What in the natural world but charnis the eyes,
In Art's-to forms which awe the soul must rise.
The Maiden's majesty, at Art's commands,
Inspires the marble, and Athenè stands '
A
{
21

1
1
318 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The strength that nerves the wrestler on the sed
Swells the vast beauty which invests a God;
And Jove's grand image-wonder of its time-
Throned in Olympia, bows the front sublime!"
XX.
Transformed by toil is now external life,
By new-born instincts roused the human heart,
Strengthened and strained by each successive strife,
Enlarge your circle of creative Art!
Still in each step that Man ascends to light,
He bears the Art that first inspired the flight;
And still the seeming Nature to his gaze,
The wealth he gives her with new worlds repays.
Thus the light Victories exercise the mind,
By guess to reach what knowledge fails to find;
Practiced throughout the Universe to trace
An Artist-whole of beauty and of grace,
He sets the Columns Nature's boundary knows,
Tracks her dark course, speeds with her where she
goes;
Weighs with the scales his hands have learned to
hold;
Metes with the measure that she lent of old;
Till all her beauty renders to his gaze
The charm that robes it and the law that sways.
In self-delighted Joy the Artist hears
His own rich harmony enchant the spheres,
And in the Universal Scheme beholds
The symmetry that reigns in all he molds,

THE ARTISTS.
XXI
In all there speaks the voice divine,
That tells of method and design;
More wide the world of life is grown,
Clasped round with Beauty's golden zone;
In all his works, before his eyes,
To victory fair Perfection flies;
Where Joy delights companions gay,
Where Care to stillness steals away,
Where Contemplation lingers slow,
Where Tears weigh down the lids of Woe,
Or Terror's thousand shapes appall ;—
One stream harmonious flows through all.
In the refined and still emotion, glide
With chastened mirth the Graces to his side;
Round him the bright Companions weave their
dance;
And as the curving lines of Beauty flow,
Each winding into each ;-as o'er His glance
The lovely apparitions gleam and go
In delicate outline-so the dreaming day
Of Life, enchanted, breathes itself away.
His soul is mingled with the Harmonious Sea
That flows around his senso delightedly;
319
And Thought, where'er with those sweet waves it
glide,
Bears the all-present Venus on the tide !
At peace with Fate serenely goes his race—
Here guides the Muse, and there supports the
Grace;
1
1
320
The stern Necessity, to others dim
With Night and Terror, wears no frown for him:
Calm and serene, he fronts the threatened dart,
Invites the gentle bow, and bares the fearless
heart.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XXII.
Darlings beloved of holiest Harmony!
Gladsome companions through our being here'
Gentlest and noblest of all powers that be
Given to life, to make that life more dear!
If Man, though freed, do still elect the thrall
Of Duty, chained in bonds that do not gall;
If iron Chance no more supreme he see.
What your reward?-Your immortality,
And that delight your own great natures knew.
If, circling now the Fount around
From which Ideal Freedom streams,
The Gods of joy are duly found,
With all the Pleasure-weaving Dreams
For these all hail to you!
XXIII.
Ye Imitators of the great
Serene and still Artificer,
Who zones with grace the form of Fate-
Who bids the ether and the star
M
1

To our delight administer;
Whose terrors less our souls alarm
Than by their grandeur raise and charm;
*
THE ARTISTS.
Who, ev'n destroying, still illumes,
And clothes with pomp the anger that consumes!
As some clear brooklet hovering o’er,
Wavers the checkered shadowy shore;
As back the fleeting crystal yields,
By twilight tinged, the blooming fields,
So gleams, O Life! thy waves along,
The lively Shadow-World of Song.
Before our eyes 'twas you that brought
Th' Unknown that daunts the human thought,
The Powers that o'er the grave preside
But robed as Love would robe his bride;
As in your urns our bones ye place,
And give our very dust a grace,
So in enchanting semblance fair,
Ye hide each specter-shape of Care.
321
I search the ages gone-I see
That boundless realm of time and fate:
How blest with you, Humanity!
And void of you, how desolate !
XXIV.
.10
All strong and mighty on the wing, and young
And fresh from your creative hands, It¹º sprung ;
And when the Time, that conquers all, prevailed ;
When on its wrinkled check the roses failed-
When from its limbs the vigor passed away,
And its sad age crept on in dull decay,
{
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322
And tottered on its crutch ;-within your arms
It sought its shelter and regained its charms :
Out from your fresh and sparkling well, ye poured
The living stream that dying strength restored;
Twice into spring has Time's stern winter glowed,
Twice Nature blossomed from the seeds Art sowed.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XXV.
Ye snatched-when chased Barbarian Hosts be-
fore-
From sacred hearths the last yet living brand;
From the dishallowed Orient Altar bore,
J
And brought it glimmering to the Western Land.
As from the East the lovely Exile goes,
Fair on the West a young Aurora glows;
And all the flowers Ionian shores could yield
Blush forth, reblooming in the Hesperian Field.
Fair Nature glassed its image on the soul,
From the long Night the mists began to roll;
And o'er the world of Mind, adorned again,
Light's holy Goddess reassumed her reign.
Loosed from the Millions fell the fetters then-
Slaves heard the voice that told their rights as
Men.
S
And the Young Race in peace to vigor grew,
In that mild brotherhood they learned from you!
Blest with the blessings you conveyed,
Contented to bequeath your lore,
Then meekly backward to the shade
Your noiseless merit stole once more
4

DCN D
THE ARTISTS.
323
XXVI.
If on the ccurse of Thought, now barrier-free,
Sweeps the glad search of bold Philosophy;
And with self-pæans, and a vain renown,
Would claim the praise and arrogate the crown,
Holding but as a soldier in her band,
The nobler Art that did in truth command;
And grants, beneath her visionary throne,
To Art, her Queen-the slave's first rank alone,-
Pardon the vaunt!-For YOU, Perfection all
Her star-gems weaves in one bright coronal!
With you, the first blooms of the Spring, began
Awakening Nature in the Soul of Man!
With you fulfilled, when Nature seeks repose,
Autumn's exulting harvests ripely close.
XXVII.
If Art rose plastic from the stone and clay,
To Mind from Matter ever sweeps its sway
Silent, but conquering in its silence, lo,
How o'er the Spiritual World its triumphs go!
What in the Land of Knowledge, wide and far,
Keen Science tracks-for you discovered are:
First in your arms the wise their wisdom learn-
They dig the mine you teach them to discern;
And when that wisdom ripens to the flower
And crowning time of Beauty-to the Power
From whence it rose, new stores it must impart,
The toils of Science swell the Wealth of Art! 19

A sta
324 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
When to one hight the Sage ascends with you,
As spreads the Vale of Matter round his view
In the mild twilight of serene repose ;-
The more the Artist charms, the more the Thinker
knows.
The more the shapes, in intellectual joy,
Linked by the Genii which your spells employ,
The more the thought with the emotion blends—
The more up-buoyed by both the Soul ascends
To loftier Harmonies, and heavenlier things,
And tracks the stream of Beauty to its springs.
The lovely members of the mighty whole,
Till then confused and shapeless to his soul.
Distinct and glorious grow upon his sight,
The fair enigmas brighten from the Night;
More rich the Universe his thoughts inclose-
More wide the Ocean with whose wave he flows;
The wrath of Fate grows feebler to his fears,
As from God's Scheme Chance wanes and disap-
pears;
And as each straining impulse soars above-
How his pride lessens-how augments his love!
So, scattering blooms, the still Guide, Poetry,
Leads him through paths, though hid, that mount
on high-
Through forms and tones more pure and more
sublime-
Alp upon Alp of Beauty—till the time
When what we long as Poetry have nurst,
Shall as a God's swift inspiration burst,
THE ARTISTS.
And flash in glory, on that youngest day—
One with the Truth to which it wings the way!
1

XXVIII.
Then snal, the Cypria leave her shrine,
Sublimely doff the sweet disguise;
Again, her native glories won,
Resume her fiery crown divine
And all effulgent, vailless, shine
Before her formed and ripened Son—'
The Urania of the skies!-
Just as his own young soul had been
Rendered more beauteous by her lore,
Shall be the ease with which to win
14
XXIX.
The wondrous shape but wooed before.
Thus sweet, thus blest was thy surprise,
When the mild guardian youth had known—
Son of Ulysses, on thine eyes,
Transformed as Jove's great Daughter, shone
;
O Sons of Art! into your hands consigned
(That trust revere!)
The liberal dignity of human kind!
With you to sink, with you to reappear.
The hallowed spell of Magic Song
Attunes the worlds that roll along—
Blent now and ever let it be
With the one universal sea
Of all Creation-Harmony'
32!
*

326
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
XXX.
Let Truth, when hostile times exile,
To Fable for her refuge fly,
And let the choral Muse the while
Defend and screen her majesty.
From out the vail of grace, let all
Her bolts of light more dreadly fall;
Winged by the Muse with sounds of fear,
Her voice victorious peal along,
Appall the quailing tyrant's ear,
And wreak her grand revenge in song.
XXXI.
Free Sons of freest Mother! rise
Up to supremest Beauty's throne,
And scorn, while there ye fix your eyes,
All crowns less royal than her own.
If from your sight the Sister 15 part,
O'ertake her at the Mother's heart:
In what fair souls as fair embrace,
Perfection leaves its surest trace.
Above your age aspiring go
On daring wings sublime;
And, glimmering on your mirror, show
The shades of after-Time.
The thousand various winding ways
Of rich Humanity explore;
But at the Throne which ends the maze
Meet, and embrace once more.

THE ARTISTS.
As into tints of sevenfold ray
Breaks soft the silvery, shimmering white;
As fade the sevenfold tints away,
And all the rainbow melts in light,-
So from the Iris, sportive, call
Each magic tint the eye to chain ;
And now let Truth unite them all,
And Light its single stream regain."
•
1 i. e. She who in Heaven is Urania (the Daughter of Uranus by
Light) is on earth Venus, the Divinity of Love and Beauty. The
Beautiful is to mortals the revelation of Truth. Truth, in its ab-
stract splendor, too bright for the eyes of man in his present state,
familiarizes itself to him in the shape of the Beautiful
2 "Das Kind der Schönheit sich allein genug,
Verliert die Krone," &c.
16
327
"What I mean," says Schiller, "is this: Every work of Art, of
Beauty, forms a complete whole; and so long as it occupies the
Artist, it is the sole engrossing object of his thoughts. Thus, for
example, a single statue, a single column, a poetical description—
each is self-suflicing. But then, as Art advances, this perfect whole
is split into parts of a new and greater one-its final destination is
then no longer in itself, but it has an ulterior object, and thence I
say it has lost its crown. The statue which before reigned supreme
cedes that distinction to the temple which it adorns the character
of Hector is in itself perfect, but is only a subordinate member of
the Iliad," &c.-SOHILLER'S Correspondence with KÖRNER.
SEWA PLAĐG + PL
"Die seine Gier nicht in sein Wesen reisst."
Schiller thus explains a line which might well puzzlo his corre.
spondent KÖRNER: "Every sensual desire has its origin in a certain
impulse to incorporate itself with the object of that desire, to draw
it forcibly to itself. Several desires destroy their object by incorpo-
rating it with themselves."-Correspondence with KōRNER I have
}

328
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
expanded the line in order to translate something of the general
idea.
G
4 i. e. Man shrinks in awe from the notion of a Diviner Power,
thoroughly unknown; but the Greek Mythology familiarized Man to
the providence of the Gods, and elevated him by the contemplation
of attributes in which he recognized whatever he most admired.
Art taught Man to see in the Nature round him the prototype-the
Ideal-of Diviner Beauty.
5 The Poet here seems to allude to the Story of Ibycus, which at
a subsequent period furnished the theme of one of his happiest narra-
tives.
6 In the Drama the essentials are Providence and Design.
7 "Doch in den grossen Weltenlauf
Ward euer Ebenmass zu früh getragen."
These lines and those that follow are extremely obscure, but I find
that. Schiller (Correspondence with KÖRNER) explains his intention
as I had before construed it in the translation. "Man applice this
law of symmetry too soon to real life, as many parts of the great edi-
fice are still concealed from his sight. To satisfy this feeling for
symmetry, he is compelled to have recourse to art.
This
gave rise to the poetry of an immortality, which is the offspring of
a feeling for symmetry, according to which man endeavored to judge
the moral world before he had a perfect knowledge of it."
8 The impossibility of doing justice to the idea of the poet by
merely translating this passage word for word, will be seen by Schil-
ler's own interpretation of his latent meaning, which I have sought
accordingly to render. "The comparison,
'Der Schatten in des Mondes Angesichte,
Eh' sich der schüne Silberkreis erföllt,'
•
•
·
has a high value, in my opinion. I compare the life of man, in the
preceding verses, to an arch-that is to say, to an imperfect portion
of a circle-which is continued through the night of the tomb to com-
plete the circle (to be governed by a feeling for the Beautiful or the
Arts is nothing more nor less than a striving toward Perfection).
Now the young moon is such an arch, and the remainder of the cir-
cle is not visible. I therefore place two youths (Castor and Pollux)
side by side, the one with a lighted torch, the other with his torch
extinguished. I compare the former to that portion of the moon
"}
1
空
​
¡
1
THE ARTISTS.
which is light, and the latter to that part which is in darkness."-
SOHILLER'S Correspondence with KōRNER.
329
9 "Das Staunen seiner Zeit, das stolze Jovisbild,
Im Tempel zu Olympia sich neigen."
Schiller here makes a wonderful demand upon the penetration of his
reader into the subtleties of his own poetical intention. " When I
say that the Zeus of Phidias bends in the temple of Olympia, I say
nothing more than this;-but the peculiar beauty of this passage
consists in the allusion to the bending position of the Olympian
Jupiter, which was in a sitting posture in this temple, and placed in
such a position that it would have borne away the roof of the temple
if it had stood upright. This bent posture always greatly pleased me,
as it says as much as that the Divine Majesty had condescended to
confine itself to the circumscribed condition of man; for if it had
stood upright-that is to say, appeared as God-inevitable destruc-
tion would have followed."-SCHILLER'S Correspondence with KōR-
Very beautiful, indeed, but it is too much to expect that a
reader should see all this in sich neigen-bowed itself.
NER.
10. 6.-Humanity.
1
11"Und tretet in der Demuth Hülle
Mid Schweigendem Verdienst zurück."
The interior meaning of these lines is not clear. A distinguished
scholar, to whose criticisms these translations are largely indebted,
suggests that Schiller, here referring to the great Artists of classical
Antiquity, intimates that, having performed their task, they did not
remain to dominate over the Genius of Modern Literature which
they had aroused, but retired to leave free scope to its efforts.
12 "This is followed by an entirely new link, which arose from a
conversation I had with Wieland. He places all scientific culture
far below art. When a scientific production rises above a production
of art, he maintains it is only because it is a work of art itself. This
Idea lay concealed in the poem, and only wanted development. This
At has now received."-SoMILLER'S Correspondence with KÖRNER.
13 "This perfect state of Man is only then to be found when moral
and scientific culture are blended in beauty. I make this applicable
to my allegory, and let Art reappear to Man in a revealed form."-
SUHILLER'S Correspondence with KÖRNER.
Mündigen, her Son, who has attained his majority.
The Sister-i. e.. probably moral Perfection or Virtue.

330
16 There is exquisite skill in concluding the Poem (after insisting
so eloquently upon the maxim, that whatever Science discovers
only adds to the stores, or serves the purpose of Art) with an image
borrowed from Science. Schiller had employed the same simile,
though with a different application, in the Philosophical Letters
between Julius and Raphael.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
THE CELEBRATED WOMAN;
I
AN EPISTLE BY A MARRIED MAN-TO A FELLOW-SUFFERER.
In spite of Mr. Carlyle's assertion of Schiller's "total deficiency in
humor," we think that the following Poem suffices to show that
he possessed the gift in no ordinary degree, and that if the aims of a
genius so essentially earnest had allowed him to indulge it, ho
would have justified the opinion of the experienced Ifland as to his
capacities for original comedy.
CAN
AN I, my friend, with thee condole ?—
Can I conceive the woes that try men,
When late Repentance racks the soul
Insnared into the toils of Hymen?
Can I take part in such distress?—
Poor Martyr,-most devoutly, "Yes!"
Thou weep'st because thy Spouse has flown
To arms preferred before thine own ;—
A faithless wife,-I grant the curse,-
And yet, my friend, it might be worse'
Just hear Another's tale of sorrow,
And, in comparing, comfort borrow!
What! dost thou think thyself undone,
Because thy rights are shared with Onc?
O Happy Man-be more resigned,
My wife belongs to all Mankind!
¡
baserrion Marks 6 down
ZA IN
1
5
+
|
I
{

THE CELEBRATED WOMAN.
My wife-she s found abroad—at home;
But cross the Alps, and she's at Rome!
Sail to the Baltic-there you'll find her ;
Lounge on the Boulevards-kind and kinder;
In short, you've only just to drop
Where'er they sell the last new tale,
And, bound and lettered in the shop,
You'll find my Lady up for sale!
She must her fair proportions render
To all whose praise can glory lend her,-
Within the coach, on board the boat,
Let every pedant "take a note ;"
Endure, for public approbation,
Each critic's "close investigation,”
And brave-nay, court it as a flattery—
Each spectacled Philistine's battery.
Just as it suits some scurvy carcass
In which she hails an Aristarchus,
Ready to fly with kindred souls,
O'er blooming flowers or burning coals,
To fame or shame, to shrine or gallows,
Let him but lead-sublimely callous!
A Leipsic man-(confound the wretch.)--
Has made her Topographic sketch,
A kind of Map, as of a Town,
Each point minutely dotted down;
Scarce to myself I dare to hint
What this fellow wants to print!
M
GLOBAL REGNE TAA
331

332
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER,
Thy wife-howe'er she slight the vows-
Respects, at least, the name of spouse;
But mine to regions far too high
For that terrestrial name is carried;
My wife's "THE FAMOUS NINON!”—I
"The Gentleman that Ninon married!"
It galls you that you scarce are able
To stake a florin at the table-
Confront the Pit, or join the Walk,
But straight all tongues begin to talk!
O that such luck should me befall,
Just to be talked about at all!
Behold me dwindling in my nook,
Edged at her left-and not a look!
A sort of rushlight of a life,
Put out by that great Orb-my wife!
Scarce is the morning gray-before
Postman and Porter crowd the door;
No Premier has so dear a levée-
She finds the Mail-bag half its trade;
My God-the parcels are so heavy!
And not a parcel carriage-paid!
But then-the truth inust be confessed-
They're all so charmingly addressed:
Whate'er they cost, they well requite her-
"To Madame Blank, The Famous Writer'
Poor thing, she sleeps so soft! and yet
}
1

THE CELEBRATED WOMAN.
'Twere worth my life to spare her slumber,
"Madame-from Jena-the Gazette-
The Berlin Journal-the last number!"
Sudden she wakes; those eyes of blue
(Sweet eyes!) fall straight-on the Review!
I by her side-all undetected,
While those curs'd columns are inspected;
Loud squall the children overhead,
Still she reads on, till all is read:
At last she lays that darling by,
And asks "What makes the Baby cry?"
M
Already now the Toilet's care
;
Claims from her couch the restless fair
The Toilet's care!-the glass has won
Just half a glance, and all is done!
A snappish—pettish word or so
Warns the poor Maid 'tis time to
Not at her toilet wait the Graces,
Uncombed Erynnys takes their places;
So great a mind expands its scope
Far from the mean details of-soap!
go:-
333
Now roll the coach-wheels to the muster-
Now round my Muse her votaries cluster;
Spruce Abbé Millefleurs-Baron Herman—
The English Lord, who don't know German-
But all uncommonly well read
From matchless A to deathless Z!
Sneaks in the corner. shy and small,
A thing which Men the Husband call'
·
22

1
酆
​ANY LA MA SA KABURUDIKTENSTATERHONNNSTRU
334
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
While every fop with flattery fires her;
Swears with what passion he admires her.-
''Passion!' 'admire!' and still you're dumb ?”
Lord bless your soul, the worst's to come :-
I'm forced to bow, as I'm a sinner,-
And hope—the rogue will stay to dinner.
But, oh, at dinner!—there's the sting;
I see my cellar on the wing!
You know if Burgundy is dear :—
Mine once emerged three times a year;—
And now, to wash these learned throttles,
In dozens disappear the bottles ·
They well must drink who well do eat
(I've sunk a capital on meat)
Her immortality, I fear, a
Deathblow will prove to my Madeira ;
"T has given, alas! a mortal shock
To that old friend-my Steinberg Hock!'
M
If Faust had really any hand
In printing, I can understand
The fate which legends more than hint ;—
The devil take all hands that print'
And what my thanks for all?—a pout-
Sour looks-deep sighs; but what about?
About! O, that I well divine-
That such a pearl should fall to swine-
That such a literary ruby
Should grace the finger of a booby!
JESU
A

petara jana na majina yang mana sang sekata Zupčil, ka
THE CELEBRATED WOMAN.
Spring comes;-behold, sweet mead and lea
Nature's green splendor tapestries o'er;
Fresh blooms the flower, and buds the tree;
Larks sing the Woodland wakes once more
The Woodland wakes-but not for her,
From Nature's self the charm has flown;
No more the Spring of Earth can stir
The fond remembrance of our own!
The sweetest bird upon the bough
Has not one note of music now;
And, oh! how dull the Grove's soft shade,
Where once-(as lovers then)—we strayed!
The Nightingales have got no learning-
Dull creatures-how can they inspire her?
The Lilies are so undiscerning,
They never say—" how they admire her!”
In all this Jubilee of Being,
Some subject for a point she's seeing-
Some epigram-(to be impartial,
Well turned)-there may be worse in Martial?
But, hark! the Goddess stoops to reason :-
"The country now is quite in season,
I'll go !"—" What! to our Country Seat?"
!''.
"No!-Traveling will be such a treat;
Pyrmont's extremely full, I hear;
But Carlsbad's quite the rage this year!"
O yes, she loves the rural Graces;
f
Nature is gay-in Watering-places!
Those pleasant Spas-our reigning passion-
Where learned Dons meet folks of fashion:
335
1
Į
336
1
i

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Where each with each illustrious soul
Familiar as in Charon's boat,
All sorts of Fame sit cheek-by-jowl,
Pearls in that string the Table d'Hôte.
Where dames whom Man has injured-fly,
To heal their wounds or to efface them;
While others, with the waters, try
A course of flirting,—just to brace them!
Well, there (O Man, how light thy woes
Compared with mine-thou need'st must see!)
My wife, undaunted, greatly goes—
And leaves the orphans (SEVEN!!!) to me '
O, wherefore art thou flown so soon,
Thou first fair year-Love's Honeymoon!
Ah, Dream too exquisite for life!
Home's Goddess-in the name of Wife!
Reared by each Grace-yet but to be
Man's Household Anyadomenè !
With mind from which the sunbeams fall,
Rejoicing while pervading all;
Frank in the temper pleased to please—
Soft in the feeling waked with ease,
So broke, as native of the skies,
The Heart-enthraller on my eyes;
So saw I, like a Morn of May,
The Playmate given to glad my way;
With eyes that more than lips bespoke,
Eyes whence-sweet words "I love thee"" broke!
}

THE CELEBRATED WOMAN.
So-Ah, what transports then were mine!—
I led the Bride before the shrine !
And saw the future years revealed,
Glassed on my Hope-one blooming field!
More wide, and widening more, were given
The Angel-gates disclosing Heaven;
Round us the lovely, mirthful troop
Of children came-yet still to me
The loveliest—merriest of the group
The happy Mother seemed to be!
Mine, by the bonds that bind us more
Than all the oaths the Priest before;
Mine, by the concord of content,
When Heart with Heart is music-blent;
When, as sweet sounds in unison,
Two lives harmonious melt in one!
When sudden (O the villain !)—came
Upon the scene a Mind Profound!
A Bel Esprit, who whispered "Fame,"
And shook my card-house to the ground
What have I now instead of all
The Eden lost of hearth and hall?
What comforts for the Heaven bereft ?
What of the younger Angel's left?
A sort of intellectual Mule,
Man's stubborn mind in Woman's shape,
Too hard to love, too frail to rule-
A sage engrafted on an ape!
To what she calls the Realm of Mind,
She leaves that throne, her sex, to crawl;
337
7
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338 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER,
The cestus and the charm resigned—
A public gaping-show to all!
She blots from Beauty's Golden Book'
A name 'mid Nature's choicest Few,
To gain the glory of a nook
In Dr. Dunderhead's Review
J
' CARLYLE's Miscellanies, vol. iii., p. 47.
2 Literally, "Nierensteiner,"-a wine not much known in England,
and scarcely-according to our experience-worth the regrets of its
respectable owner.
3 The Golden Book.-So was entitled in some Italian States (Venice
especially) the Catalogue in which the Noble Families were en-
rolled.
TO A FEMALE FRIEND
WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM;
THESF verses were addressed to Charlotte Von Lengefeld, whom
Schiller afterward married, and were intended to dissuade her from
a Court life.
I.
As
S some gay child, around whose steps play all
The laughing Graces, plays the World round
thee!
Yet not as on thy soul's clear mirror fall
The flattered shadows, deem this world to be!
The silent homages thy heart compels
By its own inborn dignity,—the spells
That thou thyself around thyself art weaving,
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TO A FEMALE FRIEND.
339
The charms with which thy being is so rife,--
'Tis these thou countest as the charms of life,
In Human Nature, as thine own-believing.
Alas! this Beauty but exists, in sooth,
In thine own talisman of holy youth,
(Who can resist it?)-mightiest while deceiving
П.
Enjoy the lavish flowers that glad thy way
The happy ones whose happiness thou art;
The souls thou winnest;-in these bounds survey
Thy world!-to this world why shouldst thou de
part?
Nay, let yon flowers admonish thee and save
Lo, how they bloom while guarded by the fence.
So plant Earth's pleasures-not too near the
sense?
Nature, to see, but not to pluck them, gave:
Afar they charm thee-leave them on the stem;
Approached by thee, the glory fades from them—
And, in thy touch, their sweetness has a grave !¹
1 The sense of the original is very shadowy and impalpable, and
the difficulty of embodying it in an intelligible translation is great,
It may be rendered thus:-"The silent homage which thy nobility
of heart compels-the miracles which thou thyself hast wrought-
the charms with which thy existence has invested life, these thou
lookest on as the substantial attractions of life itself, and as consti-
tuting the very staple of human nature. But in this thou art mis-
taken. What appears to thee to be the grace and beauty of life, is
but the reflection of the witchery of thine own undesecrated youth,
and the talisman of thine own innocence and virtue, though these
s
1
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SAMA.
ه در معماری
340 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
certainly are powers which no man can resist. Enjoy the flowers of
life, then; but do not take them for more than they are worth.
Theirs is but a surface-beauty; let the glance, therefore, which thou
bestowest on them be superficial too. Gaze on them from a distance,
and never expect that the core of life will wear the same attractive
hues as those which ornament its exterior." Schiller has repeated
this thought in the Poem of the "Actual and Ideal.”
Here conclude the Poems classed under the Second Period of
Schiller's career, excepting only his translations from Virgil
1
1


FIRST PERIOD.
EARLY POEMS
1
WE now trace back the stream to its source. We commenced
The
with Schiller's maturest Poems-we close with his earliest.
contrast between the compositions in the First and Third Period
is sufficiently striking. In the former there is more fire and ac-
tion-more of that lavish and exuberant energy which character-
ized the earlier tales of Lord Byron, and redeemed, in that
wonderful master of animated and nervous style, a certain poverty
of conception by a vigor and gusto of execution, which no Eng-
lish poet, perhaps, has ever surpassed. In his poems lies the
life and beats the heart of Schiller. They conduct us through the
various stages of his spiritual education, and indicate each step in
the progress.
In this division, effort is no less discernible than
power; both in language and thought there is a struggle at
something not yet achieved, and not, perhaps, even yet definite
and distinct to the Poet himself. Here may be traced, though
softened by the charm of genius (which softens all things), the
splendid errors that belong to a passionate youth, and that give
such distorted grandeur to the giant melodrame of The Robbers.
But here are to be traced also, and in far clearer characters, the
man's strong heart, essentially human in its sympathies-the
thoughtful and earnest intellect giving ample promise of all it
was destined to receive. In these earlier poems, extravagance is
sufficiently noticeable-yet never the sickly eccentricities of dis-
eased weakness, but the exuberant overflowings of a young TI-
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1
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342
tan's strength. There is a distinction, which our critics do not
always notice, between the extravagance of a great genius, and
the affectation of a pretty poet.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLEK.
I The similarity in some essential characteristics between Schil.
ler in what may be called his natural genius, before submitted
to the influences of domestic life and aesthetic art, and our great
countryman, did not escape the fine discrimination of Goethe.
's

F
1
HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.
WIL
HECTOR AND ANDROMACHE.
THIS and the following poem are, with some alterations, introduced
in the Play of The Robbers.
ANDROMACHE.
LL Hector leave me for the fatal plain,
Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus
slain,
Stalks Peleus' ruthless son?
Who, when thou glid'st amid the dark abodes,
To hurl the spear and to revere the Gods,
Shall teach thine Orphan one ?
343
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 my father-land!
ANDROMACHE.
No more I hear thy martial footsteps fall—
Thine arms shall hang, dùli trophies, on the wall-
Fallen the stem of Troy!
Thou go'st where slow Cocytus wunders,-where
Love sinks in Lethè, and the sunless air
Is dark to light and joy!
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344
J

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
HECTOR.
Longing and thought-yea, all I feel and think
May in the silent sloth of Lethè sink,
But my love not!
Hark, the wild swarm is at the walls!-I hear!
Gird on my sword-Beloved one, dry the tear-
Lethè for love is not!
AMALIA.
FAIR
ПAIR as an angel from his blessed hall
Of every fairest youth the fairest he!
Heaven-mild his look, as Maybeams when they fall,
Glassed in the azure mirror of the sea!
His kisses-feelings rife with paradise!
Ev'n as two flames, one on the other driven-
Ev'n as two harp-tones their melodious sighs
Blend in some music that seems born of heaven-
So rushed, mixed, melted life with life united!
Lips, cheeks burned, trembled-soul to soul was
1
won!
And earth and heaven seemed chaos, as, delighted,
Earth, heaven were blent round the beloved one!
Now, he is gone! vainly and wearily
Groans the full heart, the yearning sorrow flows-
Gone! and all zest of life, in one long sigh,
Goes with him where he goes.
1 Literally, Walhalla,
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A FUNERAL FANTASY.
A FUNERAL FANTASY.
I.
at its ghastly noon,
PALE,
Pauses above the death-still wood-the moon;
The night-sprite, sighing, through the dim air
stirs;
345
The mist-clouds shudder by;
The sad stars pale on high,
Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchers.
Haggard as specters-vision-like and dumb,
Dark with the pomp of Death, and moving slow,
Toward that sad lair the pale Procession come
Where the Grave closes on the Night below.
II.
spair,
And lift his silver hair.
Who crawls so totteringly,
Crutched on his staff, with dim and downcast eye?
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 those cold lips murmur “Fa-
ther?"-
Damp shudders, as he vainly bends his ear,
Thrill through the bones gnawed by fleshless de-
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346 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
III.
Fresh bleed the fiery wounds
Through all that agonizing heart undone-
Still on the voiceless lips "my Father" sounds,
Ard still the childless Father murmurs "Son !"
Ice-cold-ice-cold, in that white shroud he lies-
With him thy sweet and golden dreams are
gone-
The sweet and golden name of "Father" dies
Into thy curse ;-ice-cold-ice-cold-he lies!
He-once thy Paradise!
Agen
IV.
Apa
Mild, as when, fresh from the arms of Aurora,
By the breezes that blow from Elysium upborne,
Encircled with odors, the darling of Flora,
Wantons over the gardens that bloom to the
Morn-
So gay, o'er the meads, went his footsteps in bliss,
The silver wave mirrored the smile of his face,
Delight, like a flame, kindled up at his kiss,
And the heart of the maid was the prey of his
chase.
1 ▼
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.
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A FUNERAL FANTASY.
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!
347
VI.
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!
VII.
Not to be was that Manhood-The death-bell is
knelling,
The hinge of the death-vault creaks harsh on the
ears-
How dismal, O Death, is the place of thy dweiling!
Not to be was that Manhood!-Flow on, bitter
tears!
Yet go, O Belovéd, thy path to the sun,
Rise, world upon world, with the perfect to rest,
Quench thy thirst for delight in the peace thou hast
won,
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348
1
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
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And escape from our grief in the Halls of the
Blest.
VIII.
Again (in that thought what a healing 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!-O 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 mist-clouds shudder by;
The sad stars pale on high,
Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres.
The dull clods swell into the sullen mound-
Oh. all earth's worth for one last look-but one'
The Grave locks up the treasure it has found;
Higher and higher swells the sullen mound-
Never the Grave gives back what it has won !
*

FANTASY TO LAURA.
FANTASY TO LAURA
WH
HAT, Laura, say, the vortex that can draw
Body to body in its strong control;
Beloved Laura, what the charmèd law
That to the soul attracting plucks the soul?
It is the charm that rolls the stars on high,
Forever round the sun's majestic blaze-
When, gay as children round their parents, fly
Their circling dances in delighted maze.
Still, every star that glides its gladsome course,
Thirstily drinks the luminous goldon rain;
Drinks the fresh vigor from the fiery source,
As limbs imbibe life's motion from the brain.
349
With sunny motes, the sunny motes united
Harmonious luster doth receive and give ;
Love spheres with spheres still interchange de-
lighted;
Only through love the starry systems live.
Take Love from Nature's universe of wonder,
Each jarring each, rushes the mighty All;
See, back to Chaos shocked, Creation thunder;
Weep, starry Newton-weep the giant fall!
Take from the spiritual scheme that Power away
And the still'd body shrinks to Death's abode.
23

i
350
Never Love not-would blooms revive for May,
And, Love extinct, all life were dead to God.
P
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SHILLER.
And what the charm that, at my Laura's kiss,
Bids the cheek lighten with its purple flush,
Makes the heart bound more swiftly to its bliss,
And the wild life-streams into fever rush?,
Out from their bounds swell nerve, and pulse, and
sense,
The veins in tumult would their shores o'erflow;
Body to body rapt—and charmèd thence,
Soul drawn to soul with intermingled glow.
Mighty alike to sway the flow and ebb
Of the inanimate Matter, or to move
The nerves that weave the Arachnëan web
Of Sentiment Life-rules all-pervading Love!
Ev'n in the Moral World, embrace and meet
Emotions;-Gladness clasps the extreme of Care;
And Sorrow, at the worst, upon the sweet
Breast of young Hope, is thawed from its despair
Of sister-kin to melancholy Woe,
Voluptuous Pleasure comes, and happy eyes
Delivered of the tears, their children, glow
Lustrous as sunbeams-and the darkness flies!:
The same great Law of Sympathy is given
To Evil as to Good, and if we swell

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FANTASY TO “LAURA.
The dark account that life incurs with Heaven,
'Tis that our Vices are thy Wooers, Hell!
In turn those Vices are embraced by Shame
And fell Remorse, the twin Eumenides;
Danger still clings in fond embrace to Fame,
Mounts on her wing, and flies where'er she flees.
Destruction marries its dark self to Pride,
Envy to Fortune: when Desire most charms,
'Tis that her brother Death is by her side,
For him she opens those voluptuous arms.
The very Future to the Past but flies
Upon the wings of Love-as I to thee;
Oh, long, swift Saturn, with unceasing sighs,
Hath sought his distant bride, Eternity!
351
When so I heard the oracle declare-
When Saturn once shall clasp that bride sublime,
Wide-blazing worlds shall light his nuptials there-
'Tis thus Eternity shall wed with Time.
In those shall be our nuptials! ours to share
That bride-night, wakened by no jealous sun;
Since Time, Creation, Nature, but declare
Love,-in our love rejoice, Beloved One!
1 "Und entbunden von den gold'nen Kindern,
Strahlt das Auge sonnenpracht."
Schiller, in his earlier poems, strives after poetry in expression, as
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352
our young imitators of Shelley and Keats do, sanctioned generay
by our critics, who quote such expressions in italics with three
notes of admiration! He here, for instance, calls tears "the Golden
Children of the Eye." In his later poems, Schiller had a much better
nction of true beauty of diction. The general meaning of this
poem is very obscure: it implies that Love rules all things in the in
animate or animate creation; that, even in the moral world, opposite
emotions or principles meet and embrace each other. The idea is
pushed into an extravagance natural to the youth, and redeemed by
the passion, of the Author. But the connecting links are so slender
nay, so frequently omitted, in the original, that a certain degree of
paraphrase in many of the stanzas, is absolutely necessary to supply
them, and render the general sense and spirit of the poem intelligi
ble to the English reader.
W
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
TO LAURA PLAYING.
HEN o'er the chords thy fingers steal,
A soulless statue now I feel,
And now a soul set free!
Thou rulest over life and death,
Mighty as over souls the breath
Of some great Sorcery.'
Then the vassal airs that woo thee,
Hush their low breath hearkening to thee:
In delight and in devotion,
Pausing from her whirling motion,
Nature, in enchanted calm,
Silently drinks the floating balm.
Sorceress, her heart with thy tone
Chaining as thine eyes my own!
1
đả
1

TO LAURA PLAYING.
O'er the transport-tumult driven,
Doth the music gliding swim;
From the strings, as from their heaven,
Burst the new-born Seraphim.
As when from Chaos' giant arms set free,
'Mid the Creation-storm, exultingly
Sprang sparkling forth the Orbs of Light-
So streams the rich tone in melodious might.
Soft-gliding now, as when o'er pebbles glancing,
The silver wave goes dancing;
rush ;
Now with majestic swell, and strong,
As thunder peals in organ-tones along;
And now with stormy gush,
As down the rock, in foam, the whirling torrents
353
To a whisper now
Melts it amorously,
Like the breeze through the bough
Of the aspen-tree;
Heavily now, and with a mournful breath,
Like midnight's wind along those wastes of
death,
Where Awe the wail of ghosts lamenting hears,
And slow Cocytus trails the stream whose waves
are tears.
Speak, maiden, speak!-Oh, art thou one of those
Spirits more lofty than our region knows?
ht
1

1
F
•
354
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Should we in thine the mother-language seek,
Souls in Elysium speak?
K
1 "The Sorcery."-In the original, Schiller, with very ques
tionable taste, compares Laura to a conjurer of the name of
Philadelphia, who exhibited before Frederick the Great.
TO LAURA;
RAPTURE.
LAURA-above this world methinks I fly,
And feel the glow of some May-lighted sky.
When thy looks beam on mine !
And my soul drinks a more ethereal air,
When mine own shape I see reflected, there,
In those blue eyes of thine!
A lyre-sound from the Paradise afar,
A harp-note trembling from some gracious star,
Seems the wild ear to fill;
And my muse feels the Golden Shepherd-hours,
When from thy lips the silver music pours
Slow, as against its will.
I see the young Loves flutter on the wing-
Move the charm'd trees, as when the Thracian's
string
Wild life to forests gave;
wifter the globe's swift circle seems to fly,
When in the whirling dance thou glidest by,
Light as a happy wave.
PAINAL

355
Thy looks, when there Love' smiles their glad-
ness wreathe,
Could life itself to lips of marble brenthe;
Lend rocks a pulse divine;
My wildest dreams a life would take, indeed,
If I but this in thy dear eyes might read-
Laura, sweet Laura, mine!"
TO LAURA.
TO LAURA;
THE MYSTERY OF REMINISCENCE.'
WHO,
Still, lip to lip, to cling for aye unto thee?
Who made thy glances to my soul the link-
Who hade me burn thy very breath to drink-
My life in thine to sink?
and what gave to me the wish to woo
thee-
and de
As from the conqueror's unresisted glave,
Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slave-
So, in an instant, when thy looks I see,
Out from my life my soul's wild senses flee,
And yield themselves to thee!
Why from its lord doth thus my soul depart?—
Is it because its native home thou art?
Or were they brothers in the days of yore,
Twin-bound, both souls; and in the links they bore
Sigh to be bound once more?
ጌ
T
R

356 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Were once our beings blent and intertwining,
And therefore still my heart for thine is pining?.
Knew we the light of some extinguished sun—
The joys remote of some bright realm undone,
Where once our souls were ONE?
Yes, it is so!-And thou wert bound to me
In the long-vanished Eld eternally!
In the dark troubled tablets which enroll
The Past-my Muse beheld this blessed scroll-
"One with thy love my soul!”
Wondering and awed-I read, I read it there,
How once one bright inseparate life we were,
How once, one glorious essence as a God,
Unmeasured space our chainless footsteps trod-
All Nature our abode!
Round us, in waters of delight, forever
Voluptuous flowed the heavenly Nectar river;
We were the master of the seal of things,
And where the sunshine bathed Truth's mountain.
Stag
springs
Quivered our glancing wings.
Weep for the godlike life 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 lip, to cling for aye unto thee;
This made thy glances to my soul the link-
This made me burn thy very breath to drink-
p
M
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4.
6

TO LAURA.
My life in thine to sink:
And therefore, as before the conqueror's glave
Flies, without strife subdued, the ready slave--
So, in an instant, when thy looks I see,
Out from my life my soul's wild senses flee,
And yield themselves to thee.
Therefore my soul doth from its lord depart,
Because, belov'd, 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 ;
Each glowing soul still feels the kindred ties,
Each as an exile to his homeward skies-
Each to the other flies.
357
1 This exquisite love-poem is founded on the Platonic notion, that
souls were united in a pre-existent state-that love is the yearning of
the spirit to reunite with the spirit with which it formerly made
one, and which it discovers on earth. The idea has cften been
made subservient to poetry, but never with so earnest and elabe-
rate a beauty.

1
•
3
"
858
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
MELANCHOLY: TO LAURA,
I.
L
AURA! a sunrise seems to break
Where'er thy happy looks may glow,
Joy sheds its roses o'er thy cheek,
Thy tears themselves do but bespeak
The rapture whence they flow :
Blest youth to whom those tears are given—
The tears that change his earth to heaven;
His best reward those melting eyes-
For him new suns are in the skies!
II.
Thy soul-a crystal river passing,
Silver-clear, and sunbeam-glassing,
Mays into bloom sad Autumn by thee;
Night and desert, if they spy thee,
To gardens laugh-with daylight shine,
Lit by those happy smiles of thine !
Dark with cloud the Future far
Doth gild itself beneath thy star.
And dost thou smile those charms to see?
Alas! they wake but tears in me.
III.
Holds not Hades its domain
Underneath this earth of ours?
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MELANCHOLY TO LAURA.
Under Palace, under Fane,
Underneath the cloud-capt Towers?
Stately cities soar and spread
O'er your moldering bones, ye Dead'
From corruption, from decay,
Springs yon clove-pink's fragrant bloom ;
Yon gay waters wind their way
From the hollows of a tomb.
IV.
From the Planets thou may'st know
All the change that shifts below,
Fled-beneath that zone of rays,
Fled to Night a thousand Mays;
Thrones a thousand-rising-sinking,
Earth, from thousand slaughters, drinking
Blood profusely poured as water ;—
Of the scepter of the slaughter-
Wouldst thou know what trace remaineth?
Seek them where the Dark King reigneth!
All their final moments have.
Later, earlier, shall the hand
Of the Planet-Timepiece stand
Silent at the grave!
p
V.
Scarce thine eye can ope and close
Ere Life's dying sunset glows;
Sinking sudden from its pride
Into Death-the Lethè tide.
TEPHA
359
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[
360
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
1

S
Ask'st thou whence thy beauties rise ?
Boastest thou those radiant eyes ?
Or that cheek in roses dyed?
All their beauty (thought of sorrow')
From the brittle mold they borrow.
Heavy interest in the tomb
For the brief loan of the bloom,
For the beauty of the Day,
Death, the Usurer, thou must pay,
In the long To-Morrow.
VI.
292
Maiden!-Death's too strong for scorn;
In the cheek the fairest, He
But the fairest throne doth see
Though the roses of the morn
Weave the vail by Beauty worn-
Aye, beneath that broidered curtain,
Stands the Archer stern and certain!
Maid, thy wild enthusiast hear!
'Tis but Death thine eyes invite!
Every glance that burns so clear
Wastes the lamp that sheds the light.
"But my youthful pulses beat
Now so gladly!" dost thou say?
Minions but of Death, they fleet
To the Charnel-house away.
As the wind the rainbow shatters,
Death thy bright smiles rends and scatters ;
Chaparat pe
2.

MELANCHOLY: TO LAURA.
Vainly seek the vanished graces—
Smile and rainbow leave no traces:
Out from Nature's lavish spring,
Out from every bud that blows,
Out from every living thing,
Still but the Destroyer grows!
VII.
Woe, I see the wild wind wreak
Its wrath upon thy rosy bloom,
Winter plow thy rounded cheek,
Cloud and darkness close in gloom;
Blackening over, and forever,
Youth's serene and silver river!
Love alike and Beauty o'er,
Lovely and beloved no more!
VIII.
Oh, Maid, as soars an oak on high,
And scorns the whirlwind's breath,
Behold thy Poet's youth defy
The blunted dart of Death!
His gaze as ardent as the light
That shoots athwart the Heaven,
His soul yet fiercer than the light
In the Eternal Heaven
Of Him, in whose Creative Sea
Arise or sink the island stars-
Steers Thought along Infinity,
And fears but this-its bars!
361
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*1
{
1
362 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
IX.
And dost thou glory so to think?
And heaves thy bosom ?-Woe!
This Cup which lures him to the brink,
As if Divinity to drink,
Has poison in its flow!
Wretched, oh, wretched, they who trust
To strike the God spark from the dust'
The mightiest tone the Music knows,
The chords it strains-in shreds will tear;
And Genius wastes, the more it glows,
The light with which it gilds the air.
Vowed on the altar of the abused fire,
The spirits I raised against myself conspire!
Fleet—yes, I feel it-two short springs away,
And oh, for me no spring again shall bloom,
O'er me shall fall this tottering house of clay,
And the same light I kindled shall consume.
X.
And weep'st thou, Laura ?-No! forbid the tears
Which mourn redemption from the doom of years!
Wrong me not, Sinner!-shed no tears for me!
Wouldst thou, whose eyes beheld the eagle wilg
Of my bold youth through air's dominion spring,
Mark my sad age (life's tale of glory done)—
Crawl on the sod and tremble in the sun?
Hear the dull frozen heart condomu the flame
That as from Heaven to youth's blithe bosom came,
!

}
THE INFANTICIDE.
And see the blind eyes loathing turn from all
The lovely sins Age curses to recall?
!
Wrong me not, Sinner!-shed no tears for me
No, let the flower be gathered in its bloom
And thou, young Genius, with the brows of gloom
Quench thou Life's torch while yet the flame is
strong!
Ev'n as the curtain falls; while still the scene
Most thrills the hearts which have its audience
been;
As fleet the shadows from the stage-and long
When all is o'er, lingers the breathless throng!
THE INFANTICIDE.
363
I.
HARK where the bells toll, chiming, dull and
steady,
The clock's slow hand hath reached the hour de-
creed.
Well, be it so!-Lead on-my soul is ready,
Stern Grave-companions-to the Doomsman lead
Now take, O 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!
$

364
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
II.
Farewell, ye suns that once to joy invited,
Changed for the mold beneath the funeral shade;
Farewell, farewell, thou rosy Time delighted,
Luring to soft desire the careless maid.
Pale gossamers of gold, farewell, sweet-dreaming
Fancies-the children that an Eden bore!
Blossoms that died while Dawn itself was gleaming,
Opening in happy sunlight never more.
III.
Swan-like the robe which Innocence, bestowing,
Decked with the virgin favors, rosy fair,
In the gay time when many a young rose glowing
Blushed through the loose train of the amber
hair.
Woe, woe! as white the robe that decks me now-
The shroud-like robe Hell's destined victimn
wears;
Still shall the fillet bind this burning brow--
That sable braid the Doomsman's hand preparep!
IV.
W Veep ye, who never fell-for whom, unerring,
The soul's white lilies keep their virgin hue,
Ye who, when thoughts so danger-sweet are stir-
ring,
Take the stern strength that Nature gives the
few!
¥
J
"
سال

1
THE INFANTICIDE.
Woe, for too human was this fond heart's feeling-
Feeling!-my sin's avenger¹ doomed to be;
Woe-for the false man's arm, around me stealing,
Stole the lulled Virtue, charmed to sleep, from me
l
V.
Ah, he perhaps shall, round another sighing,
Of me forgetful, sting some tender breast-
Gayly, 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 enamored brings,
When the dread block the head he cradled presses,
And high the blood his kiss once fevered springs.
VI.
S
365
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 leman's lips when Love is dawning,
And the lisped music glides from that sweet
well-
VII.
Lo, in that breast a red wound shall be yawning,
And, in the midst of rapture, warn of hell!
Betrayer, what! thy soul relentless closing
To grief-the woman-shame no art can heal-
24
SEMAN
發
​✡

ALLE
A t the
Speak Vertragen, ma kwa m
366
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;
Round the gay maids on Seine's voluptuous strand,
Breathes the false incense of his fatal sigh.
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
VIII.
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 my heart cradled,-cradled still, in breaking,
The softening love and the despairing madness.
IX.
"Woman, where is my father?"-freezing through
me,
Lisped the mute Innocence with thunder-sound;
"Woman, where is thy husband ?"-called unto
me,
Mine own stern heart, from out its deeps pro-
found.
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!
}
THE INFANTICIDE.
1

PARTY TO
367
X.
Thy mother-oh, a hell her heart concealeth,
Lone-sitting, lone in social Nature's All!
Thirsting for that glad fount thy love revealeth,
While still thy look the glad fount turns to gall.
In every infant cry my soul is heark'ning
The haunting happiness forever o'er,
And all the bitterness of death is dark'ning
The heavenly looks that smiled mine eyes before
XI.
Hell, if my sight those looks a moment misses-
Ifell, when my sight upon those looks is turned—
The furies now avenge in thy pure 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—
Forever-God!-sense, reason, soul, sunk under-
The deed was done!
P
XII.
Francis, O Francis! let the specter chase thee-
Fly league on league upon thy hurrying flight-
In the dread clasp of icy arms embrace thee,
And mutter thunder in thy dream's delight!
Down from the soft stars, in their tranquil glory,
Let thy dead infant look with ghastly stare ·
ŷ
1
•
368
Let the shape haunt thee in its cerements gory,
And scourge thee back from heaven-its home is
there!
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
XIII.
***
Lifeless-how lifeless-see, oh see, before me
It lies cold-stiff!-O 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!
XIV.
Francis a God that pardons dwells in heaven-
Francis, the sinner-yes-she pardons thee-
So let my wrongs unto the earth be given :
Flame, seize the wood!-it burns-it kindles--
see!
There there his letters cast-behold are ashes!-
His vows the conquering fire consumes them
here:
XV.
K
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!
I
D
A
L

V

THE INFANTICIDE.
Beauty to me brought guilt-its bloom destroyeth:
Lo, in the Place of Death I curse the boon:
Tears in the headsman's gaze-what tears ?—'tis
spoken!
369
Quick, bind mine eyes-all soon shall be forgot-
Doomsman-the lily hast thou never broken?
Pale Doomsman-trémble not!
1 "Und Empfindung soll mein Richtschwert seyn.
A line of great vigor in the original, but which, if literally transla.
ted, would seem extravagant in English.
2 Joseph, in the original.
"1
NOTE.
THE poem we have just concluded was greatly admired at the
ume of its first publication, and it so far excels in art most of the
earlier efforts by the author, that it attains one of the highest secrets
in true pathos;-it produces interest for the criminal while creating
terror for the crime. This, indeed, is a triumph in art never achieved
but by the highest genius. The inferior writer, when entering upon
the grandest stage of passion (which unquestionably exists in the
delineation of great guilt as of heroic virtue), falls into the error
either of gilding the crime, in order to produce sympathy for the
criminal, or, in the spirit of a spurious morality, of involving both
crime and criminal in a common odium. It is to discrimination be-
tween the door and the deed that we owe the sublimest revelations of
the human heart; in this discrimination lies the key to the emotions
produced by the dipus and Macbeth. In the brief poem before us
a whole drama is comprehended. Marvelous is the completeness of
the picture it presents-its mastery over emotions the most opposite
-its fidelity to nature in its exposition of the disordered and de-
spairing mind in which tenderness becomes cruelty, and remorse for
error tortures itself into scarce conscious crime.
· găra
But the art employed, though admirable of its kind, still falls short
of the perfection which, in his later works, Schillor aspired to achieve
-viz., the point at which Pain censos. The tears which Tragic
Kanavalla kung fu pan

N
370
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Pathos, when purest and most elevated, calls forth, ought not to be
tears of pain. In the ideal world, as Schiller has inculcated, even
sorrow should have its charm: all that harrows, all that revolts, be
longs but to that inferior school in which Schiller's flery youth
formed itself for nobler grades-the school of "Storm and Pressure"
(Sturm und Drang, as the Germans have expressively described it).
If the reader will compare Schiller's poem of "The Infanticide"
with the passages which represent a similar crime in the Medea
(and the author of Wallenstein deserves comparison even with
Euripides), he will see the distinction between the art that seeks an
elevated emotion, and the art which is satisfied with creating an
intense one. In Euripides, the detail-the roality-all that can de-
grade terror into pain-are loft'y dismissed. The Titan grandeur
of the Sorceress removes us from too close an approach to the crime
of the unnatural Mother-the emotion of pity changes into awe-
just at the pitch before the coarse sympathy of actual pain can be
effected. And it is the avoidance of reality-it is the all-purifying
Presence of the Ideal, which make the vast distinction in our emo-
tions between following, with shocked and displeasing pity, the
crushed, broken-hearted, mortal criminal to the scaffold, and gazing
with an awe, which has pleasure of its own, upon the mighty Mur-
deress-soaring out of the reach of humanity upon her Dragon-Car!
THE GREATNESS OF CREATION.
[
[PON the winged winds, among the rolling worlds
Which, by the breathing spirit, erst from ancient
Chaos grew;
Seeking to land
On the farthest strand,
Where life lives no longer to anchor alone,
And gaze on Creation's last boundary-stone,

{
THE GREATNESS OF CREATION.
Star after star around me now its shining youth
uprears,
To wander through the firmament its day of thou-
sand years-
Sportive they roll
Toward the charmëd goal;
Till, as I look'd on the deeps afar,
The space waned-void of a single star.
37ì
On to the Realm of Nothingness-on still in daunt-
less flight,
Along the splendors swiftly steer my sailing wings
of light;
Heaven at the rear,
Paleth, mist-like and drear;
Yet still as I wander, the worlds in their glee
Sparkle up like the bubbles that glance on a Sea!
And toward me now, the self-same path I see a Pil-
grim steer!
"Halt, Wanderer, halt-and answer me-
Pilgrim, seek'st thou here ?"
"To the World's last shore
I am sailing o'er,
Where life lives no longer to anchor alone,
And gaze on Creation's last boundary-stone."
.
me- What,
Thou sail'st in vain-Return! Before thy path,
INFINITY"
" And thou in vain !---Behind me spreads INFINITY
to thee!
p
१
i
1
372
{

POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Fold thy wings drooping,
O Thought, eagle-swooping!-
O Fantasy, anchor!-The Voyage is o'er :
Creation, wild sailor, flows on to no shore !"
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH.'
(Said to be the Poet Weckherlin.)
HEAVY
EAVY moans, as when Nature the storm is fore
telling,
From the Dark House of Mourning come sad on
the ear;
The Death-note on high from the steeple is knell-
ing,
And slowly comes hither a youth on the bier ;--
A youth not yet ripe for that garner-the tomb;
A blossom plucked off from the sweet stem of
May.
Each leaf in its verdure, each bud in its bloom;
A youth—with the eyes yet enchanted by day :
A Son-to the Mother, O word of delight!
A Son-to the Mother, O thought of despair!
My Brother, my friend!-To the grave and the
night
Follow, ye that are human, the treasure we bear.
Ye Pines, do ye boast that unshattered your boughs
Brave the storm when it rushes, the bolt when it
falls?

ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH. 373
Ye Hills, that the Heavens rest their pomp on your
brows?
Ye Heavens, that the Suns have their home in
your halls?
Does the Aged exult in the works he has done-
The ladders by which he has climbed to Renown:
Or the Hero, in deeds by which valor has won
To the hights where the Temple of Glory looks
down?
When the canker the bud doth already decay.
Who can deem that his ripeness is free from the
worm:
Who can hope to endure, when the young fade away,
Who can count on life's harvest—the blight at
the germ?
How lovely with youth,-and with youth how de-
lighted.
His days in the hues of the rose glided by!
How sweet was the world and how fondly invited
The Future,-that Fairy enchanting his eye!
All life like a Paradise smiled on his way,
And, lo! see the Mother weep over his bed;
See the gulf of the Hades yawn wide for its prey;
See the shears of the Parcæ gleam over the
thread'
Earth and Heaven, which such joy to the living one
gave,
From his gaze darkened dimly !-and sadly and
sighing
GES S

374 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The dying one shrunk from the thought of the
grave,--
The World. oh! the World is so sweet to the
dying
Dumb and deaf is all sense in the Narrow House!-
deep
Is the slumber the Grave's heavy curtains in-
fold!
How silent a sabbath eternally keep,
O Brother—the Hopes ever busy of old!
Oft the sun shall shine down on thy green native
hill,
But the glow of his smile thou shalt feel never
more !
Oft the west wind shall rock the young blossoms
but still
Is the breeze for the heart that can hear never
more !
Love gilds not for thee all the world with its glow,
Never Bride in the clasp of thine arms shall re-
pose;
Thou canst see not our tears, though in torrents
they flow,
Those eyes in the calm of eternity close'
Yet happy-oh, happy, at least in thy slumber-
Serene is the rest, where all trouble must cease;
For the sorrows must die with the joys they out
number.
STOLN
DEKAN SUA LEIS

375
And the pains of the flesh with its dust-are at
peace!
The tooth of sharp Slander thou never canst feel,
The poison of Vice cannot pierce to thy cell;
Over thee may the Pharisee thunder his zeal,
And the rage of the Bigot devote thee to Hell!
Though the mask of the saint may the swindler dis-
guise;
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH.
Though Earth's Justice, that Bastard of Right,
we may see
At play with mankind as the Cheat with his dies,
As now, so forever-what matters to thee?
Over thee too may Fortune (her changes unknown)
Blindly give to her minions the goods they de-
sire;
Now raising her darling aloft to the throne,
Now hurling the wretch whom she raised-to the
mire!
Happy thou, happy thou-in the still narrow cell!
To this strange tragi-comedy acted on earth,
To these waters where Bliss is defiled at the well,
To this lottery of chances in sorrow and mirth,
To this rot and this ferment-this sloth and this
strife,
To the day and the night of this toilsome repose,
To this Heaven full of Devils-0 Brother!-TC
LIFE
Thine eyes in the calm of Eternity close!
(given die applies te vinde
a) magg

376 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well, O Belov'd of the
soul!
Our yearnings shall hallow the loss we deplore ;
Slumber soft in the Grave till we win to thy goal-
Slumber soft, slumber soft, till we see thee once
more!
Till the Trumpet that heralds God's coming in
thunder,
Shall peal o'er the grave-mounds that circle thy
bed,
Till the portals of Death shall be riven asunder,
And the storm-wind of God whirl the dust of the
Dead;
Till the breath of Jehovah shall pass o'er the
Tombs,
Till their seeds spring to bloom at the life of the
Breath;
Till the pomp of the Stars into vapor consumes,
And the spoils he hath captured are ravished
from Death.
If not in the worlds dreamed by sages, nor given
In the Eden the Multitude hope to attain,
If not where the poet hath painted his Heaven,
Still, Brother, we know we shall meet thee again!
Is there truth in the hopes which the pilgrim be-
guile?
Docs the thought still exist when Life's journey
is o'er?
Does Virtue conduct o'er the dreary defile?

}
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A YOUTH. 377
Is the faith we have cherished a dream and no
more?
Already the riddle is bared to thy sight,
Already thy soul quaffs the Truth it has won,
The Truth that streams forth in its waters of light
From the chalice the Father vouchsafes to the
Son!
Draw uear, then, O silent and dark-gliding Train,
Let the feast for the Mighty Destroyer be
spread;
Cease the groans which so loudly, so idly complain,
Heap the mold o'er the mold-heap the dust
o'er the Dead!
God's secret decrees, who can solve or impart?
What eye can the boundless abysses explore?
Holy-holy-all holy in darkness thou art,
O God of the Grave, whom our shudders adore!
Earth to Earth may return, the material to matter.
But high from the cell soars the Spirit above,
Its ashes the wind of the tempest may scatter-
For ever and ever endureth its love.
■ Of this poem, as of Gray's divine and unequaled Elegy, it may
be truly said that it abounds in thoughts so natural, that the reader
at first believes they bave been often expressed before, but his
memory will not enable him to trace a previous owner.
The
whole poem has the rare beauty of being at once familiar and origi-
nal.
*
1.
I

VZ
378
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCIIILLER.
HEAV
CAVY and solemn,
•
THE BATTLE
A cloudy column,
Through the green plain they marching came!
Measureless spread,
Is that table dread,
For the wild grim dice of the iron game.
Shrinkingly down bend the looks to the ground,
And the heart beats loud with a knelling sound;
Pale is the face of the stoutest man
As the Major spurs fast by the ranks to the van.
"Halt!"
And fettered they stand at the stark command.
Silently halts the van!
Proud in the blush of morning glowing,
What on the hill-top shines in flowing?
See you the Foeman's banners waving ?"
"We see the Foeman's banners waving!"
La Plata dan jan
'God be with ye-children and wife!"
Hark to the music-the drum and the fife,
How they ring through the ranks which they rouse
to the strife!
Thrilling they sound with their glorious tone,
Thrilling they go through the marrow and bone !
Brothers, God grant when this life be o’er,
In the life to come that we meet once more!
PORA
}
CARE ANTENNE
TADORES CENA ARMY JONS NI SASAME TO
1

THE BATTLE.
379
See the smoke how the lightning is cleaving
asunder!
Hark the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in
their thunder!
Quivers the eyelid, as round and round,
From rank to rank, flies the signal sound;
Shout it forth-shout it forth-to the life or the
death!
Freer already breathes the breath !
Death has broke loose, and the strife is begun,
More fast through the smoke comes the flash of the
gun;
More fast through the vapor, that hangs like a pall,
Do the iron dice fall.
"
Nearer they close-foes upon foes.
Ready!"—from square to square it goes,
Down on the knee they sank,
And the fire comes sharp from the foremost rank.
Many a man to the earth it sent,
Many a gap by the balls is rent—
O'er the corpse before springs the hinder-man,
That the line may not fail to the fearless van.
To the right, to the left, and wherever ye gaze,
Goes the Dance of Death in its whirling maze
God's sunlight is quenched in the fiery fight,
Over the host falls a brooding Night!
Brothers, God grant when this life be o'er,
In the life to come that we meet once more!

380
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
The dead men lie bathed in the weltering blood,
And the living are blent in the slippery flood,
And the feet, as they reeling and sliding go,
Stumble still on the corpses that sleep below.
"What, Francis !” "Give Charlotte my last fare-
well."
As the dying man murmurs, the thunders swell—
“I'll give—O God! are their guns so near?
Ho! comrades!-yon volley!-look sharp to the
rear!
I'll give thy Charlotte thy last farewell,
Sleep soft! where Death thickest descendeth in
rain,
The friend thou forsakest thy side shall regain !"
Hitherward-thitherward reels the fight,
And broods o'er the battle yet darker the night.
Brothers, God grant when this life be o'er,
In the life to come that we meet once more!
Hark to the hoofs that galloping go!
The Adjutants flying,-
The horsemen press hard on the panting foe,
Their thunder booms in dying—
Victory!
The terror has seized on the dastards all,
And their colors fall!
Victory!
Closed is the bitter but glorious fight:
And the day, like a conqueror, bursts on the night

ROUSSEAU.
Hark to the music-the drum and the fife,
How they ring with the triumph that follows the
strife!
Farewell, fallen brothers, though this life be o’er,
There's another, in which we shall meet you once
more !
ROUSSEAU.
MONUMENT of Shame to this our time!
Dishonoring record to thy mother clime;
Hail!
381
Grave of Rousseau !-here thy troubles
cease!
Thy life one search for Freedom and for Peace
Thee, Peace and Freedom life did ne'er allow :
Thy search is ended, and thou find'st them now!
When will the old wounds scar?-In the dark age
Perished the wise;-Light comes-How fares the
sage
The same in darkness or in light his fate,
Time brings no mercy to the Bigot's hate!
Socrates charmed Philosophy to dwell
On Earth-by false philosophers he fell;
In Rousseau, Christians marked their victim-wher
Rousseau enlisted Christians into Men!
25

BAT.
E
382
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
FRIENDSHIP;
From Letters of Julius to Raphael, an unpublished Novel.
(The Translation does not adhere to the meter in the original, which
would be very unmusical in English.)
NEW rules suffice the Mighty Architect,
FEW
O Friend! So out upon the thinkers small,
Forging the dull laws that their pains dissect!
A single wheel impels the springs of All,
Matter and spirit-yea, that simple Law
Which, called ATTRACTION, here, my Newton saw.
This taught the spheres, slaves to one golden rein,
Their radiant labyrinths to weave around
Creation's mighty heart; this made the chain,
Which, into interwoven systems, bound
All spirits, streaming to the spiritual Sun,-
As brooks that ever into ocean run!
M
Did not the same strong mainspring urge and
guide
Our Hearts to that eternal bond of love?
Linked to thine arm, O Raphael, by thy side
Ev'n I would win to that bright goal above;
And, through perfection, mine cwn soul complete
For that last light where all perfections meet.
Happy, O happy-I have found thee!-I
Have out of millions found thee, and embraced;

FRIENDSHIP.
Thee, out of millions, mine!-Let earth and sky
Return to darkness, and the antique waste—
To chaos shocked, let warring atoms be,
Still shall each heart unto the other flee!
Do I not find within thy radiant eyes
Fairer reflections of all joys most fair?
In thee I marvel at myself-the dyes
Of lovely earth seem lovelier painted there;
And in the bright looks of the Friend is given
A heavenlier mirror even of the Heaven'
Sadness casts off its load, and gayly goes
From the intolerant storm, to rest awhile
In Love's true heart, sure haven of repose;
Does not ev'n joy, tormented by its smile,
Impatient seek to merge itself, and die
In Friendship's eloquent and beaming eye?
383
In all Creation did I stand alone,
Still to the rocks my dreams a soul should find,
Mine arms should wreathe themselves around the
stone,
My grief should feel a listener in the wind;
My joy-its echo in the caves should be!
Fool, if ye will-Fool, for sweet Sympathy!
We are dead groups of matter when we hate
But when we love we are as Gods!- Unto
The gentle fetters yearning, through each state
And shade of being multiform, and through
ta, pang mg

BALMAIN NA
ONZA
در
384
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
All spirits lower than the Sire of all ¹
Moves the same impulse to the godlike thrall.
Lo! arm in arm, through every upward grade,
From the rude Mongo to the starry Greek
(Who the fine link between the Mortal made,
And Heaven's last Seraph)-everywhere we seek
Union and bond--till in one sea sublime
Of Love be merged all measure and all time!
·
Friendless, the Maker ruled His lonely sky;
He felt the want,-and thus created SOUL
To glass His bliss: Though never the Most High
Saw mate nor equal in His wondrous whole.
Toward Love, their source, all souls attracted flee;
And from that chalice foams Infinity."
"All spirits one degree lower than the infinite spirit are my
peers, since we all obey one principle."-SCHILLER'S Philosophica.
Letters from Julius to Raphael.
2 A literal translation of the last two lines would be unintelligible
and, indeed, their latent meaning and connection with the argument
In the preceding verses are not perceptible in the original, and have
perplexed most of the commentators. I have therefore resorted to
Schiller's own construction of his general intention, as it is found in
the Philosophical Letters from Julius to Raphael, in which the
poem was first inserted. "Every perfection in the universe is united
in God.
The existing form of Nature is an optic glass,
and all the activities of spirits are only an infinite color-play of that
divine ray. Should it ever please the Almighty to shatter this
prism, then the barrier betwixt Himself and the world would fall to
ruin; all spirits would disappear into one infinite spirit.
The attraction of the elements gave to Nature its material form; the
attraction of spirits, multiplied and continued to infinity, must
Anally lead to the abolition of that separation. Such an attraction is
•
·
·
•
Mamm
f

A GROUP IN TARTARUS.
395
Love. Love is the ladder on which we climb to a likeness with
God.”—Philosophical Letters. The reader who would thoroughly
comprehend all the various meanings in this poem, must examine
with care these Philosophical Letters; especially those upon Love
and GoD, in which the poem (with the poet's own commentary)
occurs.
A GROUP IN TARTARUS.
HA
ARK, as hoarse murmurs of a gathering sea-
As brooks that howling through black gorges
go,
Groans sullen, hollow, and eternally,
One wailing Woe!
Sharp Anguish shrinks the shadows there;
And blasphemous Despair
Yells its wild curse from jaws that never close;
And ghastly eyes forever.
Pine for the bridge athwart the fordless River,
Swelling with tears the wave that mourning flows,
And ask each other, with parched lips that writhe
Into a whisper, "When the end shall be ?”
The end!-Lo, broken in Time's hand the
scythe,
And round and round revolves Eternity!

Stadt B
386 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
ELYSIUM.
PAST the despairing wail—
And the bright banquets of the Elysian Vale.
Melt every care away!
Delight, that breathes and moves forever,
Glides through sweet fields like some sweet river!
Elysian life survey!
There, fresh with youth, o'er jocund meads.
His merry west-wind blithely leads
The ever-blooming May!
Through gold-woven dreams goes the dance of the
le pay a page wa
Hours,
In space without bounds swell the soul and its
Powers,
And Truth, with no vail, gives her face to the
day.
And joy to-day and joy to-morrow,
But waft 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,

THE FUGITIVE.
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 clangor of wild spears no more.
Here the true Spouse the lost belov'd regains,
And on the enameled 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
387
THE FUGITIVE.
RESH breathes the living air of dawning day,
The young Light reddens through the dusky
pines,
Ogling the tremulous leaves with wanton ray:
The cloud-capt hill-tops shine
With golden flame divine,
And all melodious thrills the lusty song
Of skylarks, greeting the delighted Sun,
As to Aurora's arms he steals along ;
And now in bright embrace she clasps the Glow-
ing One!
O Light, hail to thee!
How the mead and the lea
4

388
The warmth and the wave of thy splendor suffuse !
How silver-clear shimmer
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The fields, and how glimmer
The thousand suns glassed in the pearl of the
dews!
How frolic and gay
Is young Nature at play,
Where the cool-breathing shade with low whispers
is sweet;
Sighing soft round the rose,
The Zephyr, its lover, caressingly goes,
And over the Meadow the light vapors fleet!
How, high o'er the city the smoke-cloud is reeking,
What snorting and rattling, and trampling and
creaking;
Neighs the horse-the bull lows,
And the heavy wain goes
To the valley that groans with the tumult of Day;
The life of the Woodlands leaps up to the eye—
The Eagle, the Falcon, the Hawk, wheel on high,
On the wings that exult in the ray!
Where shall I roam,
O Peace, for thy home?
With the staff of the Pilgrim, where wander to
Thee?
The face of the Earth,
With the smile of its mirth,
Has only a grave for me!
Rise, rosy Morn, to light and life arise!
Forest and field with purple kisses flushing.
BATTERAS PARAN
THE FLOWERS.
Sink, rosy Eve, with flute-like melodies
The weary world in happy slumbers hushing.
Morn, in the world thou mak'st so beautiful
THE FLOWERS.
But one dark Burial-place the Pilgrim knows!
O Eve, the sleep thy melodies shall lull
Is—but my long repose !
CHILDI
YHILDREN of Suns restored to youth,
In purfled Fields ye dwell,
Reared to delight and joy-in sooth,
Kind Nature loves ye well;
Bright Flora decks your glorious leaves.
From Color's woof your robe she weaves,
And broiders it with light:
Yet woe, Spring's harmless Infants, woe
Your life no soul that feels can know—
Your home is in the Night!
}

And Nightingale and Skylark sing
To you of blissful Love,
And Sylphs, that wanton on the wing
Embrace your blooms above;
Woven for Love's soft pillow, were
The chalice crowns ye blushing bear,
By the Idalian Queen:
Yet weep, soft Children of the Spring
389

JĀMĀSTA GRANS STATE NO TEN
Viggende forgang perarayan EITHER FRA SALEZEN BEST PASAY
DELE
390
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The feelings Love alone can bring
To you denied have been!
But me in vain my Laura's' eyes,
Her Mother hath forbidden;
For in the buds I gather, lies
Love's symbol-language hidden—
Mute Heralds of voluptuous pain,
I touch ye-life, speech, heart, ye gain,
And soul, denied before :
And silently your leaves inclose
The mightiest God in arch repose,
Soft-cradled in the core !
1 Nanny, in the edition of Schiller's collected Works; but Laura,
when the poem was first printed in the Anthology. In the earlier
form of the poem, it was not, however, the Poet who sent the flow.
ers to Laura, but Laura who sent the flowers to him.
TO THE SPRING.
WELCO
WELCOME, gentle Stripling,
Nature's darling thou!
With thy basket full of blossoms,
A happy welcome now!
Aha!-and thou returnest,
Heartily we greet thee-
The loving and the fair one,
Merrily we meet thee-
bih kegan Foxy Laers
výběháNSONLARDA KİMİStaat bij DecemÖSTIANPESU A Ronkained by a rabi për LESTVICENS A N

TO MINNA.
Rememberest thou my Maiden--
That face canst thou forget?
She loved me then, the Maiden !
And the Maiden loves me yet!
For the Maiden, many a blossom
I begged-and not in vain!
I came again, a-begging,
And thou-thou giv'st again!
Welcome, gentle Stripling,
Nature's darling thou!
With thy basket full of blossoms,
A happy welcome now!
TO MINNA.
I.
Do
I dream? can I trust to my eye?
My sight sure some vapor must cover?
Or, there, did my Minna pass by-
My Minna-and knew not her lover?
On the arm of the coxcomb she crossed,
Well the fan might its zephyr bestow;
Herself in her vanity lost,
That wanton my Minna?-Ah, no!
391
II.
In the gifts of my love she was dressed,
My plumes o'er her suminer hat quiver;
Į
+
}
чам человек

*****
HUANERAALAM SABA
ANDERSON AS MUNTER, VERSABLELIF
SARMEST FASHITE INTER
SANT
}
392
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
The ribbons that flaunt in her breast
Might bid her-remember the giver!
And still do they bloom on thy bosom,
The flow'rets I gathered for thee!
Still as fresh is the leaf of each blossom,
'Tis the Heart that has faded from me!
III.
Go and take, then, the incense they tender;
Go, the one that adored thee forget!
Go, thy charms to the Feigner surrender,
In my scorn is my comforter yet!
Go, for thee with what trust and belief
There beat not ignobly a heart,
'That has strength yet to strive with the grief
To have worshipped the trifler thou art!
IV.
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed-
Thy beauty-shame, Minna, to thee!
To-morrow its glory will fade,
And its roses all withered will be!
The swallows that swarm in the sun
Will fly when the north winds awaken,
The false ones thine Autumn will shun,
For whom thou the true hast forsaken!
V.
'Mid the wrecks of thy charms in December,
I see thee alone in decay,
CERRETORANIENBEFAKESLAINWATAKASAKRAMENA NIMEMANGATAVS
EXTERESIRANUVASIAANSE ANTENNA EINSATZEN sky
|
SELATANTES
$

THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.
And each Spring shall but bid thee remember
How brief for thyself was the May!
Then they who so wantonly flock
To the rapture thy kiss can impart,
Shal scoff at thy winter, and mock
Thy beauty as wrecked as thy heart!
VI.
Thy beauty thy heart hath betrayed-
Thy beauty-shame, Minna, to thee!
To-morrow its glory will fade,
And its roses all withered will be!
Oh, what scorn for thy desolate years
Shall I feel!-God forbid it in me'
How bitter will then be the tears
Shed, Minna, O Minna, for thee.
THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE;
A HYMN.
393
Their bliss to ourselves is given,
Heavenlier through love is the heaven above
And love makes the earth a heaven.
At Pyrrha's rear (as sung
The Muse, in ages gone),
1
ESSED through love are the Gods ;—through
BLESSED through love
!
1
}
f

I KRAN ZMODERATA
BETTS MIENTAS PARAUGS
!
}
894
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
From rocks Creation sprung,
And Men leaped up from stone,
Rock and stone, in night
The souls of men were sealed,
Heaven's diviner light
Not as yet revealed;
As yet the Loves around them
Had never shone-nor bound them
With their rosy rings;
As yet their bosoms knew not
Soft song-and music grew not
Out of the silver strings:
No gladsome garlands cheerily
Were love-y-woven then;
Back to Elysium drearily
Fled Spring itself from men ;'
The morning rose ungreeted
From Ocean's joyless breast;
Unhailed the evening fleeted
To Ocean's joyless breast-
Wild through the tangled shade,
By clouded moons they strayed,
The iron race of Men!
No sweet mysterious tears,
That yearned for starry spheres,
And sought a God-were then.
Lo, mildly from the dark-blue water
Comos forth the IIoavon's divinest Daughter,
AANVAAREY MELTEM CONS

..
THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.
Borne by the Nymphs, fair-floating o'er
To the intoxicated shore!
Like May-like light-diffusing Morn,
A power of light and bloom was given,
Inwoven, when that birth was born,
Through air and ocean, earth and heaven.
Blithe Day looked down on forests dim,
And laughed to light their midnight grim;
And where the new-born Venus trod,
She left the flow'ret on the sod.
Now, pours the bird that haunts the eve
The earliest song of love,
And now the waters gently heave,
And softly murmur love.
O blest Pygmalion-blest art thou-
It melts, it glows, thy marble now!
O Love, the God, thy world is won!
Embrace thy children, Mighty One.
395
Blessed through love are the Gods;-through love
Their bliss to ourselves is given ;
Heavenlier through love is the heaven above,
And love makes the earth a heaven.
Where the nectar bright streams,
Like the Dawn's happy dreams,
!

FENDERS RECITATZEZAKETE V
Sen Vangis ANGARANGAN PALAU
pagkat ang ta
396 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
Eternally one holiday,
The life of the Gods glides away.
Throned on his seat sublime,
Looks He whose years know not time;
At his nod, if his anger awaken,
At the wave of his hair all Olympus is shaken.
Yet He from the throne of his birth,
Bowed down to the sons of the earth,
Through dim Arcadian glades to wander sighing.
Lulled into dreams of bliss-
Lulled by his Leda's kiss-
Lo, at his feet the harmless thunders lying!
The Sun's majestic coursers go
Along the Light's transparent plain,
Curbed by the Day-god's golden rein ;
The nations perish at his bended bow.
Steeds that majestic go,
Shafts from the bended bow,
Gladly he leaves above-
For Melody and Love!
Low hend the dwellers of the sky,
When sweeps the stately Juno by;
Proud in her car, the Uncontrolled
Curbs the bright birds that breast the air,
As flames the sovereign crown of gold
Amidst the ambrosial waves of hair-
Ev'n thou, fair Queen of Heaven's high throne,
Hast Love's subduing sweetness known;
ANTANAMAN SAN FRAN
ARRAPARA QUE

1
33
**
THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE.
From all her state the Great One bends
To charm the Olympian's bright embraces,
The Heart-Inthraller only lends
The rapture-cestus of the Graces!
Blessed through love are the Gods ;-through love
Their bliss to ourselves is given ;
Heavenlier through love is the Heaven above,
And love makes the earth a heaven.
Love can sun the Realms of Night-
Orcus owns the magic might—
Peaceful where She sits beside,
Smiles the swart King on his Bride;
Hell feels the smile in sudden light-
Love can sun the Realms of Night!
397
Heavenly o'er the startled Hell,
Holy, where the Accursed dwell,
O Thracian, went thy silver song!
Grim Minos, with unconscious tears,
Melts into mercy as he hears-
The serpents in Megara's hair,
Kiss, as they wreathe enamored there;
All harmless rests the madding thong ;-
From the torn breast the Vulture muto
Flies, scared before the charmed lute-
26
Kli
398
Lulled into sighing from their roar
The dark waves woo the listening shore-
Listening the Thracian's silver song!-
Love was the Thracian's silver song '
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER
Blessed through love are the Gods;-through love
Their bliss to ourselves is given;
Heavenlier through love is the heaven above,
And love makes the earth a heaven.
Through Nature, blossom-strewing,
One footstep we are viewing,
One flash from golden pinions!
If from Heaven's starry sea,
If from the moonlit sky;
If from the Sun's dominions,
Looked not Love's laughing eye;
Then Sun and Moon and Stars would be
Alike, without one smile for me!
{

But, oh, wherever Nature lives
Below, around, above-
Her happy eye the mirror gives
To thy glad beauty, Love!
Love sighs through brooklets silver-clear
Love bids their murmur woo the vale;
Listen, O list! Love's soul ᎩᎾ hear
In his own plaintive nightingale.
No sound from Nature ever stirs,
But Love's sweet voice is heard with hers!
I
1
$

THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE
Bold Wisdom, with her sunlit eye,
Retreats when Love comes whispering by-
For Wisdom's weak to Love!
To victor stern or monarch proud,
Imperial Wisdom never bowed
The knee she bows to Love!
Who through the steep and starry sky,
Went onward to the Gods on high,
Before thee, hero-brave?
Who rent the Temple vail asunder,
And showed Elysium blooming under
The abysses of the Grave?
Her lures the mortal here ensnare,
Why?-but to make immortals there!
Would the weak soul, did Love forsake her,
E'er gain the wing to seek the Maker?
Love, only Love, can guide the creature
Up to the Father-fount of Nature;
What were the soul did Love forsake her?
Love guides the Mortal to the Maker'
399
Blessed through love are the Gods;-through lov
Their bliss to ourselves is given;
Heavenlier through love is the heaven above,
And love makes the earth a heaven.
K
*The world was sad, the garden was a wild,
And Man, the Hermit, sighed-till Woman smiled."-CAMPEEL
J

400
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
+
FORTUNE AND WISDOM.
IN
a quarrel with her lover
To Wisdom Fortune flew;
"I'll all my hoards discover—
Be but my friend—to you.
Like a mother I presented
To one each fairest gift,
Who still is discontented,
46
And murmurs at my thrift.
Come, let's be friends. What say you?
Give up that weary plow;
My treasures shall repay you,
For both I have enow!"
Nay, see thy Friend betake him
To death from grief for thee—
He dies if thou forsake him-
Thy gifts are naught to me !"
TO A MORALIST.
THE difference in tone between this youthful effusion and the se-
vere and spiritual strains of Schiller's later philosophy, is suffi-
ciently notable.
ARE the sports of our youth so displeasing
Is love but the folly you say?
Benumbed with the Winter, and freezing,
You scold at the revels of May.
WA

TO A MORALIST.
For you once a Lymph naɑ ner charms,
And oh! when the waltz you were wreathing,
All Olympus embraced in your arms-
All its nectar in Julia's breathing
www
If Jove at that moment had hurled
The earth in some other rotation,
Along with your Julia whirled,
You had felt not the shock of creation.
Learn this-that Philosophy beats
Sure time with the pulse,-quick or slow
As the blood from the heyday retreats,-
But it cannot make Gods of us-No!
It is well, icy Reason should thaw
In the warm blood of Mirth now and then,
The Gods for themselves have a law
Which they never intended for men
In the Flesh a companion I see;
I cannot escape it;-who can?
It forbids me an angel to be,—
I follow its steps-to be Man!
401

402 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
COUNT EBERHARD, THE GROWLER (DER
GREINER) OF WURTEMBERG.
COUNT EBERHARD reigned from 1344-1892. His son Ulrick was co-
feated before Reutling in 1877, and fell the next year in battle, at
Döffingen, near Stuttgard, in a battle in which Eberhard was victo-
rious. There is something of national feeling in this fine war-song,
composed in honor of the old Suabian hero, by a poet himself a
Suabia.
НА
A ha!—take heed,-ha, ha! take heed—'
Ye braggarts South and North!
For men and warriors, good at need,
In peace to serve, in war to lead,
The Suabian Land brings forth.
Your Frederick-Edward-Charles, ye boast,
Yet all united are,
No match for him whom we can boast-
Count Eberhard, in himself a host
A thunder-storm in war!
And Ulrick, too, his noble son;—
When war raged wild and free,
How blithe was Eberhard's noble son!
When once the clang of steel begun,
No foot-breadth yielded he!
¿
The Reutling men, they foamed with spite
When they beheld our fame;
They thought themselves our match in might,
✔
}

COUNT EBERHARD.
They took their swords, and to the fight
They girt their loins, and came.
Out Ulrick went, and beat them not-
To Eberhard he returned;
One
angry look the father shot-
And when that look young Ulrick got,
He wept with tears that burned !
It stung his heart—(ah, rogues beware!)
It gnawed within his brain ;
And by his father's beard' he swore,
With many a burgher's ruddiest gore,
To lave away that stain.
Soon came the hour! with steeds and men
The battle-field was gay;
Steel closed on steel at Döffingen-
And joyous was our stripling then,
And joyous the hurra!
D
1
403
ĭ
“THE BATTLE LOST"-'twas thus we cried,
And, swift as lightning glances,
When rang that signal far and wide,
Through streams of blood we ride, we ride,
And through the night of lances.
On lion-like, grim Ulrick sweeps—
Bright shines his hero-glave-
Her chase before him Fury keeps,
Far-heard behind him, Anguish weeps,
And round him-is the Grave'

404
- - ܢܩ- -
POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER,
Woe-woe! it gleams-the saber-blow!
Behind the neck it sped-
In vain the shield our breasts bostow:-
Alas! our boast in dust is low'
Count Eberhard's boy is dead'
Grief checks the rushing Victor-van-
Fierce eyes strange moisture know-
On rides old Eberhard, stern and wan,
CL
'My son is like another man-
March, children, on the foe !"
And fiery lances whirred around,
Revenge, at least, undying—
Above the blood-red clay we bound—
Hurra! the burghers break their ground,
Through vale and woodland flying!
Back to the camp behold us throng,
Flags stream and bugles play-
Woman and child with cloral song,
And men, with dance and wine, prolong
The warrior's holiday.
And our old Count, and what doth he?
Before him lies his son!
Alone within his tent sits he,
And from his eyes falls silently
One tear-that mourns his son.

COUNT EBERHARD.
And therefore ever sworn to stand
By that great Count we are!
His might is in itself a band-
The thunder rests in his right hand;
He is the Suabian's star.
Stay ques
And therefore mark, and take ye heed,
Ye braggarts South and North!
For men and warriors, good at need,
In peace to serve, in war to lead,
The Suabian Land brings forth.
1 "Don't bear the head too high."
"Ihr, ihr dort aussen in der Wel
Die Nasen eingespannt !"
2 Count Eberhard had the nickname of Rush-Beard, from the
rustling of that appendage, with which he was favored to no ordinary
extent.
405
Wrrn this ballad conclude all in the First Period, or Early Poems
which Schiller himself thought worth preserving, and which are
retained in the best editions of his coll cted works-except the
"Sketch of Semele," which ought to be classed among his dramatic
compositions.
-
*
R
:

406 POEMS AND BALLADS OF SCHILLER.
FAREWELL TO THE READER.
(Transferred from the Third Period.)
THE
THE Muse is silent
Bowed with the
I.
with a virgin cheek.
blush of shame, she ventures
near;
She waits the judgment that thy lips may speak,
And feels the deference, but disowns the fear-
Such praise as Virtue gives 'tis hers to seek,
Bright Truth, not tinsel Folly to revere;
And he alone her crowning flowers should cull
Whose heart with hers beats for the Beautiful.
II.
Not longer yet these lays of mine would live
Than to one genial breast not idly stealing,
There some sweet dreams and fancies fair to give,
And some still whispers of a loftier feeling.
Not for the far Posterity they strive,
Doomed with the time whose shades they are
revealing,
Born to record the moment's smile or sigh,
And with the light dance of the hours to fly.
aga
III.
Spring wakes, and Life in all its youngest hues
Shoots through the mellowing meads delightedly;
FAREWELL TO THE READER:
1

THE END.
Air the fresh herbage scents with nectar-dews,
Livelier the choral music fills the sky:
Youth grows more young, and Age itself renews,
In that Field-Banquet of the ear and eye:
Spring flies, and with it all the train it leads;
And flowers, in fading, leave us but their seeds.
JUN 25 1921
407

才
​AANAA
1
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*
ܚܢܐ܀
}

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UNIVERSITY OF MICHIGAN
3 9015 03010 8164
Pending, Preservation 1988
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