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(here von MECHELN of BASLE.)

Nature in charms is exliaustless, in beauty ever
reviving ;
And, like natui-e, fair art is inexhaustible too.


Hail, thoii honor'd old man ! for both in thy heart thou
Living sensations, and thus ne'er ending youth is thj


Once wisdom dwelt in tomes of ponderous size,

While friendshii^ from a pocket-book would talk ;
But now that knowledge in small compass lies.

And floats in almanacs, as light as cork,
Coiu-ageous man, thou dost not hesitate
To ojien for thy friends this house so great !
Hast thou no fear, I seriously v/ould ask.
That thou may'st thus their patience overtask ?


King and staflf, oh to me on a Khenish flask ye are
welcome !
Him a true shepherd I call, who thus gives drink to
his sheep.
Draught thrice blest ! It is by the Muse I have won
thee, — the Muse too,
Sends thee, — and even the Church places upon thee
her seal.


When hostile elements with rage resound,
And fm-y blindly fans war's lurid flame, —

When in the strife of party quarrel di'own'd,
The voice of justice no regard can claim, —

Wlien crime is free, and impious hands are found
The sacred to pollute, d(noid of shame.

And loose the anchor which the State maintaiEis,

No subject there we find for joyous strains.

* These verses were sent by Schiller to the then Electoral Sigh
Chancellor, wilh a copy of his ' William Tell.'


But wlioTi a nation, that its flocks still feeds
With calm content, n<jr other's wealth desirefl,

Tlirows oil' the cruel yoke 'ueath which it bleeds,
Yet e'en in vratli, Imnianity ndniires, —

And e'en in triumph, moderation heeds, —
That is immortal, and onr song requires.

To 8h»w thee snch an image now is mine ;

Thou know'st it well, for all that's great is thine


(sung in a circijE of fkiends.)

With one last bumper let us hail

The wanderer belov'd,
Who takes his leave of this still vale

Wherein in youth he rov'd.

From loving arms, from native home,

He tears himself away.
To yonder city proud to roam.

That makes whole lands its prey.

Dissension flies, all tempests end,

And chain'd is strife abhorr'd ;
We in the crater may descend

From whence the lava pour'd.

A gracious fate conduct thee through

Life's wild and mazy track !
A bosom nature gave thee true, —

A bosom true bring back !

Thou'lt A'isit lands that war's wild train

Had erush'd with careless iieed ;
Now smiling Peace sahites the plain,

And strews the golden seed.


The lioaiy Father Rhine thou'lt greet,

^Yho thy forefather* blest
Will think of, whilst his waters fleet

In ocean's bed to rest.

Do homage to the hero's manes,

And oflfer to the Rhine,
The German frontier who maintains,

His own-created vrine, —

So that thy country's soul thy guide
May be, when thou hast cross'd
On the frail bark to yonder side,

Where German faith is lost !



Wheke will a place of refuge, noble friend,

For peace and freedom ever open lie !
The century in tempests had its end,

The new one now begias with murder's cry.

Each land-connecting bond is torn away.
Each ancient custom hastens to decline ;

Not e'en the ocean can war's tupault stay.
Not e'en the Nile-god, not the lioary Rliine.

Two mighty nations strive, with hostile power.

For undivided mastery of the world ;
And, by them, each land's freedom to devour,

The trident brandish'd is — the lightning Inirl'd.

• Duke Bernard of Weimar, one of the heroes of the Thirty Years'


Each country must to them its gold afford,
And, Brenuns-like, upon tlio fatal day,

Tlie Frank now throws his heavy iron sword,
The even scales of justice to o'erweifjh.

His merchant-flrots tho Briton grofdily
Extends, like Holyp-limbs, on ev'17 side ;

And the domain of Anipliitrite free

As if his home it Averc, would fain bestride.

E'en to the south pole's dim, remotest star,

His restless course moves onward, uurestrain'd ;

Each isle he tracks, — each coast, however far,
But Paradise alone he ne'er has gain'd '



Although thine eye may ev'ry map explore,
Vainly thou'lt seek to find that blissful place,

Where freedom's gai'den smiles for evermore.
And where in youth still blooms the human race.

Before thy gaze the world extended lies,
The very shipping it can scarce embrace ;

And yet upon her back, of boundless size.
E'en for ten happy men there is not space \

Into thy bosom's holy, silent cells,

Thou needs must tiy from life's tumultuous throng I
Freedom but in the realm of visions dwells,

And beauty bears no blossoms but in song.


A MAIDEN blush o'er ev'ry feature straying.

The Muse her gentle harp now lays down here,

And stands before thee, for thy judgment praying, —
She waits with reverence, but not with fear ;

Her last farewell for his kind smile dela.A-ing.

Wliom splendor <lazzlesnot, wlio holds trutli dear.

The hand of him alono whose soaring spirit

Worships the Beautiful, can crown her merit.

286 faeewelij to the eeadeb.

Tbese simple lays are only lieard resounding,
Wliile feeling hearts are gladden'd by tlieir tone

With brighter phantasies their path surrounding
To nobler aims their footsteps guiding on.

Yet coming ages ne'er will hear them sounding.
They live but for the jiresent hour alone ;

The i^assing moment call'd tliem into being,

And, as the hours dance on, they, too, are fleeing.

The spring returns, and nature then awaking,
Bursts into life across the smiling plain ;

Each shrub its perfume through the air is shaking,
And heaven is fill'd with one sweet choral strain ;

While young and old, their secret haunts forsAldng
With raptur'd eye and ear rejoice again,

The spring then flies, — to seed return the flowers^

And naught remains to mark the vauisli'f' bouri.






Most liigli and D.iglity Czar of all flesh, ceaseless reducer
of emiDires, unfatliomable glutton in the -wliole realms of

"With the most profoujid flesh-creeping I take
the hbertj of kissing the rattling leg-bones of your vora-
cious Majesty, and humbly lajang tliis little book at your
dried-up feet. My predecessors have always been ac-
customed, as if on piupose to amioy you, to transport
their goods and chattels to the archives of eternity;
directly under your nose, forgetting that, by so doing,
they only made yoiu* mouth Tvater the more, for the
proverb, Stolen bread tastes sweetest, is applicable even
to you. No ! I prefer to dedicate this work to you, feel-
ing assured that you will — thi-ow it aside.

But, joking apart ! methinks w-e two know < ach other
better than by mere hearsay. Enrolled in til ? order of
^sculapius, the first-born of Pandora's box, as old as the
fall of man, I have stood at yotu' altar, — have sworn
undying hatred to your hereditaiy foe Nature, as the son
of Hamilcar to the seven hills of Rome, — have sworn to
besiege her Avdth a whole army of medicines, — to throw
up barricades round the obstinate soul, — to drive from
the field the insolents who cut down your fees and cripple
your finances, — and on the Ai-chsean battle-plain to plant
your michiight standard. — In rctm-u (for one good turn
deserves another), you must prepare for me the precious
Talisman, which can save me from the gallows and the.
wheel iininjiired, and Avith a whole skin —

Jueque datum scelcvi. *


Como then ! act the {generous Msecciias ; for observe, I
should bo Sony to fare like my foolhardy colleagues and
cousins, who, armed Avith stiletto and pockct-pLstol, hold
thou- ci)iirt in gloomy ravines, or mix in the subten-aneaii
laboratory the wontkous polyclirest, which, when taken
with proper zeal, tickles our political noses, either too
little or too much, with tlirono vacancies or state-fevere. —
D'Amiens and Ravaillac !— Ho, ho, ho !— 'Tis a good
thing for straight limbs !

Perhaps you have been whetting your teeth at Easter
and Michaelmas ? —the great book-epidemic times at
Leipzig and Frankford ! Hm-rah for the waste-paper I —
'twill make a royal feast. Y'^-ur nimble brokers, Gluttony
and Lust, bring you whole cargoes fi-om the fair of life. —
Even Ambition, your grandpapa — War, Famiuo, Fire,
and Plagae, your mighty hiuitsmen, have pi-ovided yoi:
with many a jovial mau-chase. — Avaiice and Covetous-
ness, your strndy butlers, drink to joux health Avliole
towns floating in the bubbling cup of the world-ocean.- I
know a kitchen in EiU'opo Avhere the raicst dishes havt)
been served up in yo;u' honor with festive pomp. — And
yet — who has ever kno^-n you to be satisfied, or to com-
plain of indigestion? — Yoiir digestive faculties are of
iron ; your entrails fathomless !

Pooh — I had many other things to say to you, but 1
am in a hurry to V)o off. — You aro an ugly brother-in-law
— go ! — I hear you are calculating on living to see a
general collation, wliere great and small, globes and
lexicons, i^hilosopliics and knick-knacks, will fly into
your jaws — a good appetite to you, sL^iidd it come to
that. — Yet, ravenous wolf that you ai-e ! take care that
you don't over-eat yourself, and have to disgorge to a
hair all that you have swallowed, as a certain Athenian
(do particular friend of yoiu's, by-the-by) has pro


Tobolsko, the 2nd Febniary.
Tnm primnm radiis gelidi incaluere Tnones.

Flowees in Siberia ? Beliind tills lies a piece of

knarery, or the sun must make face against midniglit. —
And yet — if ye were to exert yourselves ! 'Tis really so ;
we have been hunting sables long enough ; let us for
once in a way try our luck with flowers. Have not
enough Europeans come to us step-sons of the sun, and
waded through our hundred-years' snow, to pluck a
modest flower ? Shame upon our ancestors — we'll gather
them ourselves, and frank a whole basketful to Europe. —
Do not crush them, ye children of a milder heaven !

But to be serious. — To remove the iron weight of
prejudice that broods heavily over the north, requires a
stronger lever than the enthusiasm of a few individuals,
and a fii-mer Hypomochlion than the shoiddcrs of two
or three patriots. Yet if this Anthology reconciles you
squeamish Europeans to us snow-men as little as — let's
suppose the case — our ' Muses' Almanac, ' * which we —
let's again suppose the case — might have written, it will
at least have the merit of helping its companions throiigh
the whole of Germany to give the last neck-stab to
expiring taste, as wo jjcople of Tobolsko like to word it.

If your Homers talk in their sleep, and your Herculeses
kill flies with their cilubs, — if every one who knows how
to give vent to his portion of sorrow in dreary Alex-

• This was the title of the publication In which many of the finest Of
8iBtUler'8 " Poems of the Third Period" originally appeared.


anclrmee, fnterprets that as a call to Helicon, shall we
NorthoniB be blamed for tinkling the Muses' lyre? —
Your matadors claim to have coined silver, when they
have stamped tliiir effigy on Avretched pewter ; — and at
Tobolsko, coiners are hanged. 'Tis true that you may
often find paper-money amongst us instead of Russian
roubles, but war and hard times arc an excuse for any-

Go forth, then, Siberian Anthology ! — Go ! — thou wilt
make many a coxcomb hapjiy, wilt be placed by him on
the toilet table of his sweetheart, and in reward wilt
obtain her alabaster, lily-white hand for his tender kiss. —
Go! — thou wilt fill up m ly a weary gulf of ennui in
assemblies and city-visits, and, may be, relieve a Circas-
sienne, who has confessed herself weary amidst a shower
of calumnies. — Go ! — thou wilt be consulted in the
kitchens of many critics ; they Avill liy thy hght, and,
like the screech-owl, retreat into thy shadow ! — Ho, ho,
ho ! — Already I hear the ear-cracking howls in the
inhospitable forest, and anxiously conceal myself in my



I CHANCED the other eve, —

But hoio I ne'er will tell, —
The paper to receive

That's publish'd down in hell.

In general, one may guess,

I little care to see
This free-corps of the press

Got up so easily ;

But suddenly my eyes

A side-note chanced to meet,

Aaid fancy my siirjirise

At reading in the sheet : —

" For twenty weary springs"

(The post from Erebus,
Remark me, always brings

Unpleasant news to us)—

"Through want of water, we

Have well-nigh lost our breatls |

In gi-eat pr-rijlexity

Hell came and ask'd for Death |

" ' They can wade through the StySj
Catch crabs in Lethe's flood ;

Old Charon's in a fix,

His boat lies in the mud.

•* ' The dead leap over there,

The young and old as well ;
The boatman gets no fare.

And loudly curses Hell.'

" King Minos bade his spies

In al 1 directions go ;
The devils needs must rise.

And bring him news below.


" Hurrnli ! Tlio socrpfs told !

They've cnufcht the robber's neit
A merry fenst let's hold !

Come, Hell, and join the rest !

"An authors' countless band,

StaUi'd roiind Cocytus' brink,

Each beai-ing in his hand
A glass for holding ink,

" And into casks they dre-w

The ^vHter, strange to say.
As boys suck sweet Avine through

An elder-reed in play.

"Quick ! o'er them cast the net,

Ero they have time to flee ]
WoTni welcome ye will get,

So come to Bans-souci !

" Smelt by the king ere long.

He sharpen'd up his tooth,
And thus address'd the throng

(Full angrily, in truth) :

" ' The robbers is't wo see ?

Wimt trade ? What land, perchance ?'-
' German news- writers we !'

' Enough to make us dance !

" ' A wish I long have known

To bid ye stop and dine,
Ere .ye by Death were mown,
That brother-in-law of mine.

" 'Yet now by Styx I swear,

Whose tiood ye would imbibe,
That torments and despair

Shall till your vermin- tribe!

" 'The pitchrr seeks the well,

Till brcAen 'tis one day ;
They who for ink would smellj

The penalty must jjay.



" ' So seize them by tlieir tlmmbu.
And loosen straight my beast

E'en now he licks his gums,

Impatient for the feast,' —

"How quiver'd ev'ry limb

_ Beneath the bull-dog's jaws '
Their honors baited him,

And he allow'd no pause.

" Convulsively they swear,

Still writhe the rabble rout,

Engaged with anxious care

In pumping Lethe out."

Ye Christians, good and meek,
This vision bear in mind ;

If journalists ye seek.

Attempt their thumbs to find.

Defects they often hide,

As folks whose hairs are gone

We see with wigs supplied :
Probatum ! I have done I


TwiKL him ! twirl him ! blind and dumb,
Deaf and dumb.

Twirl the carle so troublesome I
Sprigs of fashion by the dozen
Thou dost bring to book, good cousio.

Cousin thou art not in clover ;
Many a head that's lill'd with smoke
Thou hast twirl'd and well-nigh broke,
Many a clever one perplex'd,
Many a stomach sorely vex'd,

Turning it completely over ;
Many a hut put on awry,
Many a lamb chas'd cruelly,
Made streets, houses, edges, trees,
Dance around us fools with ease.


Therefore thou art not in clover,
Tliereforo thou, like ©tin r folk,
Hast thy hoad tiU'd full of Hinoke,
Therefore thou, too, art pi'r2)ltx'<l,
Ami thy KtiJinach's sorely vex'd,

For 'tis turu'd completely over ;

Therefore thou art not in clover.

Twirl him ! t-wirl him I blind and dumb,
Ueaf and dumb,

Twirl tlio carle so troublesome I
Seest thoii how our tongues and witfc
Thou hast shiver'd into bits — •

Seest thou this, licentious wight?
How we're fasten 'd to a string,
Whirl'd around in giddy ring,
Making all like night appear,
Filling with strauge sounds our ear 5

Learn it in the stocks aright !

When our ears wild noises shook,
On the sky we cast no look.
Neither stock nor stone r"view'd.
But were punish 'd as wo . tood.

Seest thou now, licentious wight?
That, tons, yon tltiriug sun
Is the Heidelbergors' tun ;
Castles, mountains, trees and towers,
Seem like chopin-cups of ours.

Learu'st thou now, licenti<ju8 weight?

Learn it in the stocks aright !

Twirl him ! twirl him ! blind and diimbj
Deaf and dumb.

Twirl the carle so troublesome !
Kinsman, once so full of glee.
Kinsman, where's thy drollery,

Where thy tricks, thou cunning one?
All tliy tricks are spent and past,
To the devil gone at last !
Like a silly fop thou'lt prate,
Like a waslun-womrin rate.

Thou art but a simpleton.
Now thou may'st — more shame to thee —

296 spiNosAo

Kun away, because of me ;

Cupid, that young rogue, may glory

Learning ■wisdom from tliy story
Haste, thou sluggard, hence to flee !

1^.8 from glass is cut our "nit,

So, like lightning, 'twill be sj^lit ;

If thou v/on't be chas'd away.

Let each folly also stay !
Seest my meaning ? Think of me I
Idle one, away with thee ]


A MIGHTY oak here ruin'd lies,
Its top was wont to kiss the skies.
Why is it now o'erthrown ? —
The i^easants needed, so they said,
Its wood, wherewith to build a shed,
And so they've cut it down.


Here lies a man cut ciT by Fate
Too soon for all good men ;

For sextons he died late — too late
For those who wield the pen.


Not iu the crowd of masqueraders gay.

Where coxcombs' Avit with woudi-ous splendor flareSj
And, easier than tlio Indian's net the prey.

The virtue of young beauties snares ;^

Not at the toilet-table of the fair.

Where vanity, as if before an idol, bows,

And often breathes a warmer prayer
Tlian when to Heaven it pays its vowe j


Antl not behind tho curtain's cunning vnil.

Where the wi-rU's eye is liitl hj cheating night,

And glowing lluraes tlio hearts assnil,
That seeni'J but chilly in the light, —

Wlioro \7isdom wo surpn'se with shame-dyed lip,

Wliile I'hoebus' rays she buldly drinks,
Wlicre men, like thievish children, ni^etar sip.

And from tho spheres e'en Plato sinks —

To ye — to ye, O lonely sister-baud.

Daughters of Destiny, ascend,
When o'er the lyre ail-gently sweeps my hand.

These strains, where bliss and sadness blend.

You only has no sonnet ever woo'd.

To win your gold no usurer e'er sigh'd.
No coxcomb e'er with plaints your steps pursued,

For you, Arcadian shepherd ne'er has died.

Your gentle fingers ye for ever ply,

Life's nervous thread -with care to twist,

Till sound the clanging shears, and fruitlessly
The tender web would then resist.

Since thou my thread of life hast kindly spun.

Thy hand, O Clotho, I now kiss !
Since thou hast spar'd thut life, whilst scarce beguU;

Receive this nosegay, Lachesis !

Full often thorns upon tho thread.

But oft'ner rcwes, thou hast strung;
For tliorna and roses there outspread,

Clotho, to thee this lay be sung !

Oft did tempestuous passions rise.

And threat to break the thread by force ;

Oft projects of gigantic size

Have check'd its free, unfetter'd course.

Oft, in sweet hours of heav'nlv bliss.

Too fine appear'dthe thread to me;
Still oft'ner when near sorrow's dark abysa,

Too firm its fabxic seem'd to be.


ClotliOj for this and other lies,

Thy pardon I -vvith tears implore ;
Henceforth I'll take whatever prize

Sage Clothe gives, and ask no more.

But never let the shears cut off a rose —
Only the thorns, — yet as thou will'st !

Let, if thou will'st, the death-shears sharply close,
If thou this single prayer fulflll'st!

Oh, goddess ! when, enchain 'd to Laura's breath,
My spirit from its shell breaks free.

Betraying when, upon the gates of death,
My youthful Life hangs giddily.

Let to infinity the thread extend, *

'Twill wander through the realms of bliss,—

Then, goddess, let thy cruel shears descend !
Then let them fall, O Lachesis !


(when their miniatukes were hanging side by side,)

In truth, when I have cross'd dark Lethe's river.
The man upon the right I'll love for ever.

For 'twas he fii'st that wrote for me.
For all the world the left man wrote, full clearly,
A-ud so we all should love him dearly ;

Come, left man ! I must needs kiss thee !


A. Haes, neighbor, for one moment stay !—
Herr Doctor Scalpel, so they say.
Has got off safe and sound ;
At Paris I your uncle found
Fast to a horse's crupper bound,-
yet Scalpel made a king his prey.


B. Ob, dear me, no ! A real misnomer,
The fiict is, he Las Lis dijiloma;
Tlie otlicr one has not.
A. Eh I What? Has a diploma?

In Suabia may such things bo got ?


Her likeness Madame Ramler bids mo find ;

I try to think in vain, to xuhom or hoiv ;
Beneath the moon there's nothing of the kind. —

I'll show she's like the moon, I vow !

The moon— she rouges, steals the sun's bright light,
By eating stolen bread her living gets,—

Is also Avont to paint her cheeks at tight.
While, with untiring ardor, she coquets.

The moon— for this may Herod give her thanks ! —
Eeserv'cs her best till niglit may have return'd ;

Our lady swallows up by day the francs
That she at night-time may have earn'd.

The moon first swells, and then is once more lean.
As eurely as the mor th comes roiind ;

With Madame Eamler 'tis the same, I ween-
But she 1X3 need more time is found !

The moon to love her silver horns is said,

But makes a soriy show ;
/S'/jc likes them on her husband's head, —

She's right to have it so !



Once the Nine all weeping came

To the God of Song :
" Oh, papa ! " they there exclaim-

" Hear our tale of wrong I


** Totmg ink-lickers swarm about

Our dear Helicon ;
There they fight, manoeuTre, shoui^
Even to thy throne.

** On their steeds they gallop hard

To the spring to drink,
Each one calls himself a bard —
Minstrels — only think !

" There they — how the thing to name ?

"Would our persons treat —
This, without a blush of shame,

We can ne'er repeat ;

" One, in front of all, then cries,

' I the army lead ! '
Both his fists he wildly plies,
. Like a bear indeed !

" Others wakes he in a trice
With his whistlings rude ;

But none follow, though he twice
Has those sounds renew'd.

" He'll return, he threats, ere long,
And he'll come no doubt !

Father, friend to lyric song.
Please to show him out ! — "

Father Phoebus laughing hears
The complaint they've brought ;

*' Don't be frighten'd, pray, my dearSj,
We'll Boon cut them short !

** One must hasten to hell-fire,

Go, Melpomene !
Let a Fury borrow lyre.

Notes, and dress, of thee.

"Let her meet, in this array.

One of these vile crews.
As though she had lost her Wdy

Soon as night ensues.


"Then •with kissog dnrk, I tnist,

They'll tlio d(?ar child greet,
Satisfying their wild lust

Just as it is meet ! " —

Said nud done ! — The one from hell

Soon was dress'd aright.
Scarcely had the prey, they tell,

Caught the i'ellows' sight,

Than, as kites n ]iigeon follow,

They nttack'd her straight —
Part, not all tiiough, I can swallow

Of what folks relate.

If fair boys were 'mongst the band,

How came they to be —
This I cannot understand, —

In such comjiany ?

* * * *

The goddess a miscarriage had, good lack 1
And was deliver'd of au — Almanack !



On ev'ry nose he rightly read
What intellects were in the head :
And yet — that he was not the one
By whom God meant it to be done,
This on his own he never red.



The sullen mnyrr who reigns in hell,

By mortals I'luto height,
"Who thi-ushes all his Bubjects well.


Both mom and eve, as stories tell.

And rules the realms of night,
All pleasure lost in cursing once,
All joy in flogging, for the nonce.

The sedentary life he led

Upon his brazen chair
Made his hiud-quarters very red.

While pricks, as from a nettle-bed,

He felt both here and there :
A burning sun, too, chanc'd to shine,
And boil'd down all his blood to brine.

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