Friedrich Schiller.

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By turns in cv'ry bono.
" Is't jjossiblo thou seest not, sir,
How he has eyes for none but her ? —

At table ne'er attends to thee,

But sighs behind her ceaselessly ?

" Behold the rhymes that from him came

His passion to confess " —
" Confess !" — " And for an answering flame,-

The impious knave ! — to press.
My gracious lady, soft and meek,
Through jnty, doubtless, f(>ar'd to speak ;

That it has 'scap'd mi>, sore I rue ;

^Vllat, lord, canst thou to heli^ it do ?"

Into the neighboring wood then rode

The Count, intiam'd with wrath,
Wliero, in his iron-fountliy, glow'd

The ore, and bubbk'd forth.
The workmen here, Avith busy hand,
The fire both late and early faun'd.

The sparks tiy out, the bellows ply,

As if the rock to liquefy.

The fii-e and water's might twofold

Are here united found ;
The mill-wheel, by the flood seiz'd hold,

Is whirling round and round ;
The Avorks are clatt'riug night and day,
With measnr'd stroke the hammers play,

And, yielding to the mighty bloAvs,

The very irou plastic grows.

174 miDoiiiN.

Then to two workmen beckons he

And speaks thus in his ire :
" The first who's hither sent by me

Thus of ye to iuqviira :
* Hare ye ob?y'd my lord's word well?"
Him cast ye into yonder h(^ll,

That into ashes lie may fly,
And ne'er again torment mine eye !"

Th' inhuman pair were overjoy'd,

With devilish glee possess'd :
For as the ii-on, feeling void,

Their heart was in their breast.
And brisker vrith the bellows' blast,
The foundry's womb now heat they fast.

And with a murderous mind jireiiare

To offer up the victim there.

Then Robert to his comrade spake,

With false hypocrisy :
'* Up, comrade, up ! no tarrying make '

Our lord has need of thee."
The lord to Pridolin then said :
" The pathway tow'rd the foundry tread-

And of the workmen there inquire,

If they have done their lord's desire."

The other answer'd, " Be it so ! "

But o'er him came this thought.
When he was all-prepar'd to go,

" Will she command me aught? "
So to the Countess straight he vrent :
" I'm to the iron-foundry sent ;

Then say, can I do aught for thee ?

For thou 'tis who commandcst me."

To this the Lady of Savern

Keplied in gentle tone :
" To hear the holy mass I yearn,

For sick now lies my son ;
So go, my cldld, and Avhen thou'rt ther%
Utter for me a humble prayer,

And of thy sins think ruefully,

That grace may also fall on me."

Ami in this welcomo duty glad,

Ho ({uickly joft tlio place ;
But cro tlio villiigo bounds he had

Attain'd witli rnpid pare,
The sound ci ])flls struck on his ens:,
From the higli Ix'lfry ringing cU-ar,

And ov'iy sinner, inHrcy-seut,

Inviting to the sacrament.

" Never from praising (rod refrain
Wliere'er by thee He's found 1 "

He Fpoke, and stt'pp'd into tlie fane,
But there he heard vo eoiuid ;

For 't .vas the harvest time, and now

Glow'd in the fields the r^'aper's bx-ow ;
No choristers were gather'd there.
The duties of the mass to share.

The mattt r paus'd he not to -weigh,

]iut took the sexton's part ;
•' Tliat thing," he said, "makes no delay

Which heav'nward guides tlu^ heart."
Upon the i)riest, Avith helping linnd.
He placed the stole and sacred baud.

The vessels he prejjar'd beside,

That for the mass were sanctified.

And when his duties here were o'er,

Holding the mass-liook, he,
Minist'ring to the priest, before

The altar bow'd his knee.
And knelt him left, and knelt him right.
While not a look escap'd his sight.

And wli(>n tlie holy Sanctus came.

The bell thrice rang he at the name.

And when the priest, bow'd humbly too.

In hand u])lit'ted high.
Facing the altar, show'd to view

The Pn-sfmt Deity,
The sacristan proclaim'd it well,
Sounding the clearly-tinkling bell,

Wliile all knelt down and beat the Dreast,
And witii a crotis the Host coufesb'd.

ii4 FElDOtik.

The rites tiins serv'cl. he, leaving none,

With quick and ready wit ;
Each thing that in God's house is done,

He also practis'd it.
tJnweariedly he labor'd thus,

Till the VoBiscuM Dominus,
Wlien tow'rd the peojjle turu'd the priest,

Bless'd them, — and so the service ceas'do

rhen he dispos'd each thing again,

In fair and due array ;
First purified the holy fane,

And then he -went his way,
ind gladly, with a mind at rest,
bn to the iron-foundry press'd.

Saying the while, complete to be,

Twelve jjaternosters silently.

Lnd when he saw the fui'nace smoke.

And saw the workmen stand,
" Have ye, ye fellows," thus he spoke,

" Obey'd the Count's command ? "
Grinning they ope the orifice,
A.nd point into the fell abyss :

" He's car'd for — all is at an end !

The Count his servants will commend."'

The answer to his lord lie brotight.

Returning hastily,
Who, when his form his notice caught,

Could scarcely trust his eye :
"Unhappy one ! whence comest thou?" —
"Back from the foundi-y."— " Strange, I vow!

Hast in thy journey, then, delay'd? " —

" 'Twas only, lord,' till I had pray'd.

*• For when I from thy presence went

(Oh pardon me ! ), to-day,
As duty bid, my steps I bent

To her whoiL T obey.
She told mo, loru. the mass to hear,
I gladly to her wish gave ear.

And told four rosaries at the shrine^

JFor her salvation and for thine. "

i'lliS COtlNT OP ilAl'SBURrt. l?'t

In -wonder dcop tlio Count now foil,

And, Bhudd'riug, thus spake he :
" And, at the fouudiy, quickly tell,

What answr-r gave they thee? "
" Obscure the v/ords they answer'd in, —
Showiug tlu> furnace with a grin -.

* He's car'd for — all is at an end !

The Count his servants will commend,' "*

" And Robert?" interrupted he,

Wliilo deatUy pale he stood, —
" Did he not, then, fall in with thee?

I sent him to the wood." —
"Lord, neither in the wood nor field
Was trace of Robert's foot revi^al'd." —

"Then," cried the Count, with awe-gtrvick

" Great God in heav'n his judge hath been ! "

With kindness ho before ne'er prov'd.

He k'd him by the hand
Up to the Countess, — deeply mov'd, —

Who naught could understand.
" This child, let him be dear to thee,
No angel is so pure as he !

Though u-e may have been counsel'd ill,

God and His hosts Avatch o'c r him still."



At Aix la-Chapelle, in imperial array,

In its halls reno-mi'd in old story,
At the coronation bnn(]uet so gay

King Rudolf was sitting in glory.
The meats were sei-\''d up by the Palsgrave of Rhine,

■ The somcwliat iiT gular metre of llie ori<;iua' liaa been proPcrvod
ill this biiUad, us in oiIilt pooms; altlioii{,'h the perfect anaptestie
metre is perliapa more familiar to the Kuglisli ear.

17^ 1aj:E coUMT of hapsbueg.

Tlie Boltemiau pourVl out the bright sparkling wine,

And all the Electors, the seven,
Stood waiting around the Tvorld-governing One,
As the chorus of stars encircle the sun,

That honor might duly be given.

And the people the lofty balcony round

In a throug exulting "were tilling ;
While loudly were blending the trumpets' glad sound.

And the multitude's voices so thrilling ;
For the monnrchless period, with horror rife,
Has ended now, after long baneful strife,

And the earth had a lord to possess her.
No longer rul'd blindly the iron-bonnd spear.
And the weak and the peaceful no longer need fear

Being crush'd by the cruel oppressor.

And the Emperor speaks wdth a smile in his eye.

While the golden goblot he scuzes :
" With this banquc t in glory none other can vie,

Aiid my regal heart well it pleases ;
Yet the minstrel, the bringtr of joy, is not here.
Whose melodious strains to my heart are so dear^

And whose words heav'nly wisdom inspire ;
Since the days of my youth it'had been my delight.
And that which I ever have lov'd as a knight,

As a monarch I also require."

And behold ! 'mongst the princes who stand round the

Steps the bard, in his robe long and streaming,
While, bleach'd by the years that have over him flown,

His silver locks brightly are gleaming ;
" Sweet harmony sleeps in the golden strings,
The minstrel of true love reward ever sings,

And adores what to virtue has tended, —
Wliat the bosom may wish, what the senses hold dear j
But say, what is worthy the Emperor's ear

At this, of all feasts the most splendid ? "

"No restraint would I place on the minstrel's own

Speaks the monarch, a smile on each feature ;
" He obeys the swift hour's imperious voice,

Of a far greater lord is the creature.
For, as through the air the storm-wind on speeds, —


One knows not from whence its wild roaring procctnls —

As the spring l'rt>m liid s<nirces up-lfupiug,
So tlie lay of the bard from the inner lit ai t breaks, —
"While the might of sensations unknown it awakes,
That within wa were woudronsly sleeping."

Then the bard swejit the chords with a finger of miglat.

Evoking their magical sighing :
" To the chase once rode forth a Aulorons knight,

In pnrsnit of the antelope Hying.
His hunting-spear bearing, thi-re came in his train
His squire ; and when o'er a wide-spreading plr^in

On liis stately steed ho w;s riding,
He heard in the distance a bell tinkling clear,
And a priest, Avith tlie Host, he saw soon drawing near,

"While before hnu the sexton was striding.

•' And low to the enrth the Count then iuclin'd.

Bared his head in humble submission,
To honor, with trusting and Christian-like mind,

"What had sav'd the whole Avorld from jjerdition.
But a brook o'er the plain was pursuing its course.
That, swell'd by the mountain streams, lieadlcng force,

Barr'd the wanderer's pte]>s with its current l
So the priest on one side the blest sacrament pn:,
And his sandal with nimbleness drew from his f.;(-.t.

That he safely might pass through the torrent.

" ' Wlnit thou ?' the Count to him thr.s began,

His wondering look tow'rd him turning :
• 'My journey is, lord, to a dying man,

n^io for heavenly diet is yearning;
But when to the bridge o'er the brook I came nigh,
In the whirl of the stream, as it madly rush'd by

"With furious might, 'twas uprooted.
And so, that the sick the salvation may find
That he pants for, I hasten with resolute mind

To wade througli the waters barefooted.'

" Then the Count made him mount on his stately steed.
And the reins to his hands he confided.

That he duly might comfort the pick in his need.
And that each holy rite be provided.

And himself, on the back of the steed of his sqiure,


Went after tJie cliase to Lis heart's full desire,

While the priest on his iouruey was speeding
And the following morninc:, with thankful look,
To the Count once again his charger he took,
Its bridle with modesty leading.

" - God forbid that in chase or in battle,' then cried

The Count with humility lowly,
' The steed I lienceforward should dare to bestride

That hath borne my Creator so holy !
And if, as a guerdon, he mr.y not bo thine.
He devoted shall be to the service divine.

Proclaiming His iulinite merit,
From whom I each honor and earthly good
Have received in fee, and my body and blood,

And my breath, and my life, and my sijirit.'

'"Then may God, the sure rock, whom no lime can
e'er move.
And who lists to the weak's supplication.
For the honor thou pay'st Him, permit thee to prove

Honor her'e, and hereafter salvation !
Thou'rt a powerful Count, and thy knightly command
Hath blazou'd thy fame thro' the Switzer's broad land ;

Thoa art blest v/ith six daughters admir'd ;
May they ea.ih in thy house introduce a bright crow n,
Filling ages unborn with their glorious renown, —

Thus exciaim'd he in accents iuspir'd. "

And the Empoi-or sat there ail-thoughtfully.

While the cmam of the past stood before him ;
And when on the minstrel he tum'd his eye,

His wox'ds' hid'Ien meaning stole o'er him ;
For seeing the traits of the priest there reveal'd.
In the folds of his purple-dyed robe he conceal'd

His tears as they swiftly cours'd dov/u.
And all on the Emperor wond'iiagly gaz'd,
And the blest disi:)in sat ions of Providence prais'd,

For the Count and the Ccesar were one.



.3efore liis lion-coiirt,
Impatient for the sp()l■^,

King Francis sat otic clay ;
Tbti peers of Lis realm Fat arouncl,
And in balcony liipjli frcjui tlie ground

Sat the ladies in beauteous array.

And -when with his finger he beckon'd.
The gate opeu'd -nide in a second, —
And in, with deliberate tread,
Enters a lion dread.
And looks around
Yet utters no sound ;
Then long lie yawns

And shakes his mane,
And, stretching each limb,

Down lies he again.

Again signs tlie king, —

The next gate open flies.
And, 1<) ! witli wild spring,

A tiger ont hies.
When the lion he sees, loudly roars ho aboui
And a terrible circle his tail traces ont.
Protniding his ton.gue, past the lion he walks.
And, snarling with rage, round him warily stalke
Then, growling anew.
On one side lies down too.

Again signs the king, —

And two gates open fly,
And, lo ! with one spidng,

Two leopards out hie.
On the tiger they rush, for the fight nothing loth.
But he with his paws seizes hold of them both.
And the lion, with roaring, gets up,— then all's still ;
The fierce beasta stalk ui'ouud, madly thii-sting to kilL


From tlie balcony rais'd high above
A fair hand lets fall now a glove
Into the lists, where 'tis seen
The lion and tiger between.

To the knight, Sir Delorges, in tone of jest,

Then speaks young Cuuiguud fair ;
" Sir Knight, if the love that thou feel'st in thy breast

Is as warm as thou'rt wout at each moment to sweaX5

Pick lip, I pray thee, tlie glove that lies there ! "
And the knight, in a moment, with dauntless tread,

Jum^DS into the lists, nor seeks to linger,
And, from out the midst of those monsters dread,
Picks up the glove with a daring linger.

And the knights and ladies of high degree
With wonder and horror the action see.
"While he quietly brings in his hand th.e glove.

The praise of his courage each mouth emijloys ;
Meanwhile, with a tender look of love,

The promise to him of coming joys.
Fair Cunignnd welcomes him back to his plac%
But he threw the glove point-blank in her face •
"Lady, no thanks from thee I'll receive !"
And that selfsame hour he took his leave.


A YOUTH, impell'd by burning thirst for knowledge

To roam to Sais, in i'air Egypt's land.

The priesthood's secret leurniug to explore,

Had pass'd thro' maiiy a grado with eager haste,

And still was hurrviiig on with fond impatience.

Scarce could tlie Hierophant impose a rein

Upon his headloug efiforts. " What avails

A pi^rt Av-ithout the whole ? " the youth exclaim'd ;

'' Can there be here a lesser or a greater?


Tlio truth thou speak'st of, like mere earthly dross,

Irt't but a sum that cau be hi;hl by man

In hirg?r or in smaller quantity?

Surely, 'tis changeless, indivi.sil ilo ;

Deprive a harmony of but one note,

D( prive the rainbow of one single color,

And all that "nrill rc^main is naught, so long

As that one color, that one rote, is wanting."

W.iilo thus they converse Jiclcl, they chanced to stand

Within the prccints of a lonely temple.

Where a veil'd statue ef gigantic siz3

The youth's attention caught. In ■wondrrmcnt

lie turn'd him tow'rd his gaide, and asli'd him, Rajaug,

"Wliat form is that conceal'd beneath yon veil? "

" Tnitli ! " -was the answer. "What ! " the young man

" Wlien I am striving after Truth alone,
Seek'st thou to hide that very Truth from rac ? "

" The Godhead's self alone can answer thee,"

Keplied the Hierophant. " ' Let no rash mortd

Disturb this veil,' said he, * till rais'd by me ;

For he wlio dares with sacrilegious hand

To move the sacred mystic covering,

He '—said the Godhead— " "Well?" "wiU see the

" Strangely oracular, indeed! And thou
Hast never ventur'd, then, to raise the veil ? "
" I ? Truly not ! I never even felt
Tlie least desire. "— " Is't possible ? If I
Were sever'd from the Truth by nothing else
Than thin guaze — " " And a divine decree,"
His guide broke in. " Far heavier than thou tliink'st
Is this thin gauze, my son. Liglit to thy hand
It may be — but most weighty to thy conscience."

The youth now sought his home, absorb'd in
thought ;
His burning wish to solve the raysteiy
Banish'd nil sleep ; up;!n his eoueh be lay.
Tossing his fev'rish liuibs, 'Wheu midnight Cflm©»

184 TirE tehjEd stattje at sais.

He rose, and tow'rcl the temple timidly,
Led by a miglity impulse, bent liis -way.
The walls lie scal'd, and soon one active spring
Landed the daring boy beneath the dome.

Behold him now, in ntter solitude,
Welcom'd by naught save fearful, deathlike silence,—
A silence which the echo of his steps
Alone disturbs, as through the vaults he paces.
Piercing an oi^ening in tlie cupola,
The moon cast down htr pale and silv'ry beams,
And, awful as a present deity,'
Glitt'ring amid the darkness of the pile.
In it's long veil conceal'd, the statue stands.

With hesitating step he now draws near—
His impious hand would fain remove the v^'il —
Budden a burning chill assails his bones,
And then an unseen arm repulses him.
" Unhappy one, what wouklst thou do ? " Thus cries
A- faithful voice within his trembling breast.
" Woukbt thou profanely violate the All-Holy ? "—
" ' Tis tme the oracle declar'd, ' Let none
Venture to raise the veil till rais'd by me.'
But did the oracle itself not add.
That he who did so would behold the Truth ?
\Miate'er is hid behind, I'll raise the veil. "
And then he shouted : " Yes I I will behold it !"

"Behold it!"
Eepeats in mocking tone the distant echo.

He speaks, and, with the word, lifts up the veil
Would you inquire what form there met his eye ?
I know not,— but, when day appear'd, the priests
Found him extended senseless, pale as death,
Before the pedestal of Isis' statue.
'Wiiiit had been seen and heard by him when there,
He never would disclose, but from that hour
His happin( ss in life had fled for ever,_
And his deep sorrow soon conducted him
To an untimely grave. " Woe to that man,"
He, warning, said to ev'ry questioner,
" Woe to that man who wins the Trutli by guilt,
J'pr truth so gain'd will ne'er reward its owner,"



"■ Take the world ! " Zous excluiru'd from his tkrone in
the Bki(>s
To the chiklren of man — " take the Avorhl I uowgive J
It nhall ever rt'miiiu as joiir lieirloom and jJinze.
fcjo divide it as brothers, luid hapjuly live."

Then all who had hands sought tlieir share to obtain.
The young and tlie aged made haste to appear ;

The hnsbandmaa seiz'd on tlie fruits of the plain,
The youth thro' the forest pursued the tieet deer.

The merchant t<iok all that his warehouse could hold,
The abbot selected the last year's best wine,

The king barr'd the bridge s, — the highways controll'd,
And said, " Now remember, the tithes shall be mine ! "

But when the division long settled had been.
The poet drew nigh from a far distant land ;

But alas ! not a remnant was now to be st>en,

Each thing on the earth owu'd a master's command.

'• Alas ! shall then T, of thy sons the most irue, —
Shall I, 'niougst them all, be forgotten alone ? "

Thus loudly he cried in his anguisli, and threw
Himself in despair before Jupiter's throne.

•'If thou in the region f)f dreams didst delay.
Complain not of me," the Immortal replied;

"When the world was apportiou'd, where then were
thou, jn-ay?"
"I was," said the poet, " I was — by thy side ! "

*^ Mine eye was then fix'd on thy features so bright,
Mine ear was entranced by thy harmony's power ;

Oh, pardon the spirit tliat, aw'd by thy light,

All things of the earth could forget in that hour ! "

"What to do?" Zeus exclaim'd,— " for the world has
been given ;

The harvest, th.e market, the chase, are not free ;
But if thou with me wilt abide in my heaven.

Whenever thou com'st, 'twill be open to thee 1 "



JCh a deep vale, 'mongst simple swains,
Appear'd with each returuing spring,

Soon as the lark began his strains,
A maid, of beauty ravishing.

That vale was not her native place.
And where she came from, none could tell s

Yet of her steps was left wo trace
Soon as the maiden said farewell.

Each heart was glad when she was seen,

With nobler aspirations fir'd;
And yet her grace, her lofty mien

With silent awe each breast iuspir'd.

She with her brought both flowers and fruity
But ripen'd in far distant plains.

Where warmer far the sunbeams shoot,
Where a more bounteous nature reigns.

Her gifts among them all she shar'd, —
To some gave fruit, gave flowers to some.

The youth, the old man silver-hair'd.
Alike rewarded sought their home.

To her was welcome every guest ;

Yet if approach 'd a luvi'ng ])air,'
To them she ever gave her best.

The flowers her store contain'd most fair-


Smooth and ever-clear and ciystal-bright
Plows existence, zephyr-light.

In Olympus, where the blest reclines.
Moons revolve, and ages pass away ;
Chan^elessly 'mid ever-rife decay


Bloom the roses of tlieir youth divine.
Mill! h;iH hat a Bad choice left liiia now,

Sensual bliss and soul-repose between;
But, upon the gi-ea Celestial's brow,

Wedded is their lustre seen.

Wculdst thou lievo he like a deity,
In the realm of death be free,

Never seek t paick its garden's fruit I
On its beait;, thou may'st fc^ast thine eye ;
feoou -wild longiu^r's injpidBcs will fly.

And enjoyment's transient bliss pollute.
JE't n the .'^tyx, that nine times flows around,

Ceres' child's return could not delay ;
But she gras])ed the apple, — and was bound

Evermore liy Orcus' sway.

Boilics only yonder powers can biad
By "whom gloomy fate is twin'd ;

But, set free from each restraint of time,
Blissful Nature's playmate, Fokm, so bright.
Beams forever o'r r tlie plains of light,

'Mongst the Deities, herself sublime.
Wo-uldst thou on her pinions soi;r on high,

Far away each earthly sorrow throw 1
To the ideal realm for refuge fl}-

From this narrow life below !

Free from earthly stain, and ever jouug.
Blest Perfection's rays among.

There humanity's fair form is view'd,
As life's silent iDhautoms brightly gleam
While they wander near the Stygian stream.

Or, as in the heav'nly fields they stood,
Ere the great Immortal went its way

Down to the sarcophagus so drear.
If in life the conflict- scales still sway

Doubtfully, the triumph's here.

Not to free the weaiy limbs from strife.
Not to give the faint new life,

Blooms the fragrant wreath of victory.
Tho' thy iK'rvcs may rest, yet fierce and strong,
In its stream life bears thee still along,

In its whirling dance Time hurries thee.

188 THE IDEAli AND tlFE.

Bdt plioiild courage' daring ivicg not brook
Sad confinement's painful sense to bear,

Tlien the soaring Aim "with joy may look
Down from Beauty's liill so fuir.

If 'tis good to govern and defend,
Wrestlers bravely to contend

On the path of foitune or reno-wn, —
Then let boldness wreak itself in force,
And the chariots on the dust-strown course

Blend together, as they tliundt r down.
Courage only here tlie prize can find

Of the victor in the Hijjpourome, —
'Tis the strong alone who Fate can bind

When the weak are overcome.

But although, when rocks its bed inclose,
Wildly foaming ou it flows,

Softly, smoothly runs life's gentle stream
Over Beauty's silent shadow-land,
While, iipon its silvery waters' strand,

Hesper and Aurora paint each beam.
Melted into soft and muinal love,

Blended in tlie haj^py bond ci grace,
Fiery impulses here cease to move.

And the foe has fled the place.

If to animate what erst was dead.
If with matter now to wed,

Active genius kindles into flame.
Let then industry strain ev'ry nerve.
Let the thought's courageous wrestling serve

E'en the hostile element to tame.
Truth's deep-buried spring can only flow

To the steadfast will, tnat wearies ne'er ;
Only to the chisel's heavy blow

Yields the brittle marble e'er.

Piercing even into Beauty's sphere,
In the dust still lingers hero

Gravitation, with the world it sways :
Not from out tlie mass, with labor wrung,
Light and graceful, as from nothing sprung.


Stands tho image to the ravishM gaze.
AuUi is ev'ry Btrnirglo, cv'iy Joubt,

lu the C( rtiiin glow i>i victury ;

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