Friedrich Schiller.

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Hearken to the trunii^'s exiiltiiig song !
Ye are worsliipp'd by the shouting throng !^

Kouse ye, then, ye kings .'

Seven sleepers !— to the ckrion hark !
How it rings, and liow the fierce dogs bark !

Shots from out a tliousand barrels whizE
Eager steeds are neighing for tlie wood-
Soon the bristly boar rolls in his blood,

Yours the triumph is 1


But ■what now ? — Arc even pi-inccs dnmb ?
Tow'rd nio scomfnl ccliocs iiinrfolil oonic,

Stculiiif^ tlirouKli tlio vault's terriiic gloom—'
Sleep assails the page by slow degrees.
And jNIadoiina givts to you the keys

Of — her hlecpiug-room.

Not an nuswrr — hush'd ai:d still is all —
Does the veil, then, e'en on monarch's fall,

Which enshrouds their liund>lefiatt'rers' glance?
And ye ask for worship in the du'^t,
Since the blind jade. Fate, a world has thnist

In your jjurse perchance ?

Aiid ye clatter, giant puppet- troops,
Marshall'd in your proudly childish groups.

Like the juggler on the oin-ra scei;e? —
Though the sound may please the vulgar ear,
Yet the skilfid, till'd with sadness, jeer

Powers so great, but mean.

Let your tow'ring shamo be hid from sight
In the garment of a sovereign's right,

Fr(mi the ambush of the throne outspriug !
Tremble, though, before the voice of song :
Through the ])urple, vengeance will, ere long,

Strike down e'en a king !


Look outside, good friend, I pi'ay !

Two whole mortal hours
Dogs and I've out here to-day

Waited, by the powers !

Rain comes down as from a spout,
Doomsday-storms rage round about,

Dripping are my hose ;
Drench'd are coat and mantle too,

* WriUcn in the Siialiiaii dialect.


Coat and mantle, both just new,

Wretched plight, Heav'u knows !
Pretty stir's abroad to-day ;
Look outside, good friend, I pray !

Ay, the devil ! look outside !

Out is blown my lamp, —
Gloom and night the heavens now hid«.

Moon and stars decamp.
Stumbling over Etock and stone,

Jerkin, coat, I've torn, ochone !

Let me pity beg !
Hedges, bushes, all around.
Here a ditch, and there a mound,

Breaking arm and leg.
Gloom and night the lieavens now hid*
Ay, the devil ! look outside !

Ay, the deuce, then look outside !

Listen to my prayer !
Praying, singing, I have tried,

Woukist thou have me sw ear ?
I shall be a steaming mass,
Freeze to rock and stone, alas !

If I don't remove.
All this, love, I owe to thee.

Winter-bumps thou'lt make for me.

Thou confounded love !
Cold and gloom spread far and wide I
Ay, the deuce ! then look outside !

Thousand thunders ! what's this now

From the window shoots ?
Oh, thou witch ! 'Tis dirt, I vow.

That my head salutes !
Rain, frost, hunger, tempests wild,
Bear I for the devil's child.

Now I'm vex'd full sore.
Worse and worse 'tis ! I'll begone.
Pray be quick, thou Evil One !

I'll remain no more.
Pretty tumult there's outside !

Fai-e thee well — I'll homeward etrid«.



An apod sntyr sought

Around my Muse to pnsB,
Attempting to \y<\y court,

Aud eyed her foudly through liis glajs.

By Phojbtis' gohlen torch,

By Lnufi's ])idlid light,
Around her temple's jjoreh

Crept the unhappy shai-p-ear'd wight j

And warbled many a lay,

Her beanty s ])raise to sing,
Aud tiereely sernp'd away

On his discordant fiddle-string.

With tears, too, swell'd his eyes.

As large as nuts, or hirger ;
He gasp'd forth lieavy sighs.

Like music from Sileuus' charger.

The Muse sat still, and play'd

Within her grotto fair,
And peevishly survey'd

Siguor Adonis Goatsfoot there,

" Who ever would kiss thee.

Thou ugly, dirty dunce ?
Wouldst thou a gallant be,

As Midas was Apollo once ?

" Speak out, old horned boor !

What cliarms canst thou display f
Thou'rt swarthy as a Moor,

And shaggy as a beast of prey.

" I'm by a bard ador'd

In iar Teutoniu's land ;
To him, who strikes the chord,

I'm liuk'd in firm and loving baud."


Slie spoke, and Btraightway fled

The spoiler, — he pursued her.
And, by hia passion led.

Soon caught her, shouted, and thus woo'd
her :

" Thou prudish one, stay, stay ! ;

And hearken unto nie ! '

Thy poet, I dare say.

Repents the pledge he gave to thee.

"Behold this pretty thing, —

No merit would I claim, —
Its weight I often fling

On many a clo^\'n's back, to his shame.

" His sharpness it increases,

And spices his discourse,
Instilling learned theses.

When mounted on his hobby-horse.

" The best of songs are known,

Thanks to this heavy wliip ;
Yet fool's blood 'tis alone

We see beneath its lashes drip,

"This lash, then shall be his,

If thou'lt give me a smack ;
Then thou mayst hasten, miss,

Upon thy Germjin sweetheart's track."

The Muse, with purpose sly,

Ere long agi-eed to yield —
The satyr said good-bye,

And now the lash I wield !

And I wont drop it here,

Believe in what I say !
The kisses of one's dear

One does not lightly throw away.

They kindle rnptures sweet.

But fools ne'er know their flame !

The gentle Musci will kneel at honor's feet
But cudgels those who mar her tame.



Farewkli. ! the beauteous suu is sinking fast,
, The moon lifts np her head ;
Farewell ! mute night o'er earth's wide round at last
Her darksome raven-wing has spread.

Across the wintry plain no echoes float,

Save, from the rock's deep womb,
The murmuring streamlet, and the screech-owl's uot»,

Arising from the forest's gloom.

The fish repose within tlio wateiy deeps,

The snail draws in his head ;
The dog beneath the tal)le calmly sleeps,

My wife is slumb'ring ia her bed.

A hearty welcome to ye, brethern mine I

Friends of my life's young spring I
Perchance around a llask of Rhenish wine

Yc're gather'd now, i-.i joyous ring.

The brimming goblet's bright and purple beams

Mirror the worl I Avith joy,
And pleasure from the golden grape-juice gleams-

Pleasuro untainted by alloy.

Conoeal'd behind departed years, your eyes

Find roses now alone ;
And, as the summer tempest quickly flies.

Your heavy sorrows, too, are flown.

From childish sports, to e'en the doctor's hood,

The book of life ye thumb.
And reckon o'l^r, in light and joyous mood,

Your toils in the Gymnasium ;

Ye count the oaths that Terence — may he ne'er,

Though buried, cahnly slumber ! — •
Caus'd you, despite Minelli's notv^s, to swear, —

Count your wry faces without number.


How, when the dread examinations came,

The boy with terror shook !
How, when the rector had pronounced his name;

The sweat stream'd down upon his book !

All this is now involv'd in mist for ever,

The boy is now a man,
And Frederick, wiser grown, discloses never

What little Fritz once lov'd to plan.

At length — a doctor one's declar'd to be, —

A regimental one !
And then, — and not too soon, — discover we

That plans soap-bubles are alone.*

Blow on ! blow on ! and let the bubles rise.

It' but this heart remain !
And if a German laurel as the prize

Of soug, 'tis giv«!U me to gain !

* An illusion to tlic ai)i)ointmont of reciinicntal s-iirfzeon, conferred up-
on Schiller by tlie Grand J>iike llmrlos in 17S0, when he was 21 y«ar» of






* r , .dT


The following variations ajjpear in the first two verses
o( IR'cfor'fi FareiocU (see pi^ge 1), as given in The
Iiobbcrs, act ii. scene 2.


Wilt thou, Hector, leave me ? — leave me weeping,
Where Achilles' murJeroUH blade is heaping

Bloody off'rings on Patroclus' gravt> ?
Who, alas, will teach thino infant truly
Spears to hurl, the gods to honor duly,

When thou'rt buried 'ueath dark Xanthus' wave ?


Dearest wife, go, — fetch my death-spear glancing,
Let mo join the battle-danc^e entrancing.

For my shoulders bear tha weight of Troy !
Heaven will be our Astyanax' protector!
Falling as his country's savior, Hector

Soon will greet thee in the realms of joy.

Thk following additional verse is found in Amalia^s Son^
(see page 2), as sung in 'J7ic liobbcrs, act iii. scene 1.
It is introtluced between the first and second verses, as
they appear in the Poems.

His embrace —what niadd'ning rapture bound us! —
Bosom throbb'd 'gainst bosom with wild might;

Mouth iiiid car were chaiu'd — nip^ht reipfn'd around US —
And the spirit wing'd to^''rd lu-avon its flight.


From The Robbers, act iv. scene 5.


What so good for banishing sorrow
As women, theft and bloody affrny?

"We must dance in the air to-morrow,
Therefore let's be right merry to-day !

A free and jovial life we've led,

Ever since we began it.
Beneath the tree we make our bed,
We ply our task when tlie storm's o'erhead

And deem the moon our planet.
Tlie fellow we swear by is Mercury,
A capital hand at our trade is he.

To-day we become the guests of a priest,
A rich farmer to-morrow must feed us ;

And as for the future, we care not the least.
But leave it to Heaven to heed us.

And when our throats with a vintage rare

We've long enough been supplying,
Fresh courage and strength we drink in there.
And with the Evil One friendship swear,
Who down iu hell is frying.

The groans o'er fathers reft of breath.
The sorrowing mothers' cry of death.
Deserted brides' sad sobs and tears.
Are sweetest music to our ears.

Ha I when under the axe each one quivering lies.
When they bellow like caives, and fall round ns
like flies.

Naught gives such pleasure to our sight,

It fills our ears with wild delight.

And when arrives the fatal day

The devil straight may fetch us '.
Onr fee we get without delay —
They instantly Jack-Ketch us.
One draiight upon the road of liquor bright and clear,
And hip I hip \ hin I hurrah 1 we're seen no longer here !

At>l»KNt>IX. 331

From The Robbers, net iv. seen* 6.



JTe are welcomo, peaceful realms of light ?

Oil, receive lloine's last surviving Bon I
From Pliilippi, from the murderous tight,

Come I now, my race of sorrow run. —
Cassius, ^horo art thou? — Home overthrown '.

All my l)i<tliern's loving band destroy 'd I
Safety find I at death's door alone.

And the world to Brutus ia a void I


Who now, with ne'er-subdued-one's tread,

Hither from yon rocks makes haste to come? —
Ha ! if by no vision I'm misled,

"lis the footstep of a child of Eome.-—
Son of Tiber — whence dost thou appear ?

Stands the seven hill'd city as of yore?
Oft her orphan'd lot awakes my tear,

For, alas, her Caesar is no more !


Ha ! thou with the tJiree-and-twenty wounds '

Who hath, dead one, summon'd thee to light ?
Back to gaping Orcus' fearful bounds.

Haughty mourner ! Triumph not to-night
On Philippi's iron altar, lo !

Reeks now Freed()m"s final victim's blood ;
Rome o'er Brutus' bi(»r feels her death-throe, —

He seeks Minos. —Back to thy dark flood ?


Oh, the death-stroke Brutus' sword then hurl'd !

Thou, too— Brutus— thou? Could this thing be?
Sou !— It was thy father !— Son ! The world

Would have fallen heritage to thee !
Go — 'mongst Romans thou art deem'd immortal,

For thy steel hath pierc'd thy father's breast.


Go — and sliout it even to yon portal :

' Brutus is 'mongst Rouians deem'd immortal,

For his steel hath pierc'd his father's breast."
Go — thou know'st now what on Lethe's strand

Made me as a prisoner stand.

Now, grim steersman, push thy bark from land/


Father, stay ! — In all earth's realms so fair,

It hath been my lot to know but one,
"Who with mighty Ca?sar could compare ;

And of yore thou calledst him thy son.
None but Cfesar could a Rome o'erthrow,

Brutus only made great Ccesar fear;
Where lives Brutus, Caesar's blood must flow ;

If thy path lies yonder, mine is here.

From Wallenstcin'' s Camp, scene 7.

eeckuit's song.

How sweet the wild sound

Of drum and of fife !
To roam o'er earth's round,

Lead a wandering life,
With a steed train'd aright.
And bold for the fight,
With a sword by the side,
To rove far and wide. —
Quick, nimble, and free
As the finch that we see
On bushes and trees,
Or braving tlie breeze, —
Huzza, then ! the Friedlander's banner for me !

From ]Valle7istein'H Camp, scene the last.
SECOND cuiKASSiEK sings.

(Jp, up, my brave comrades ! to horse ! to horse !

Let us haste to the field and to freedom !
To the field, for 'tis there tliat is prov'd our heart's force,

'Tis there tliat in earnest we need 'em !
None otlier can there our places supply.
Each must stand alone. — on himself must rely.

'appkndix. 333


None other can there our jihices su]:)ply,
Euch mubt fatiiiid aloue, — ;)ii himself mubt rely.


Now freedom appears from the world to have flown,
None but lords a id their vassals one traces ;

While falsehood and cunning are ruling alone
O'er tlie living cowardly racis.

The man who cm look upon death without fear —

The soldier, — is now the sole freeman left here.


The man who cm look upon death without fear -
The soldier, — is now the sole freeman left here.


Tlie cares of this life he casts them away,

Untroubled by care or by sorrow ;
He rides to his iiite Avith a countenance gay,

And tinds it to-day or to-morrow ;
And if 'tis to-morrow, to-day we'll employ
To drink full deeiJ of the goblet of joy,


And if 'tis to-morrow, to-day we'll employ
To drink full deep of the goblet of joy.

[They re-Jill their ylassen, and drink. \


The skies o'er him shower his lot fill'd with mirth,
He gains, without toil, its full measure ;

The peasant, who grulis in the womb of the earth,
Believes that he'll find there the treasiire.

Through lifetime ho shovels and digs like a slave,

^nd digs — till at lejigth he has dug hia own grave.



Through J 'fetime he shovels and digs like a slave,
Ami digs- -till at leugth he has dug his own grave,


The horsoman, as well as his swift- footed beast,

Are gu(jsts by whom all are affrighted.
When gliuimer the lamps at the wedding feast,

In the banquet he joins uninvited ;
He wooy not long, and with gold he ne'er buys,
But carries by storm love's blissful prize.


He woos not long, and with gold he ne'er buys,
But carries by storm love's blissful prize.


Why weeps the maiden ? Why sorrows she so ?

Let me hence, let me hence, girl, I pray thee ?
The soldier on earth no sure quarters can know ;

With true love he ne'er can repay thee.
Fnta hurries him onward with fury blind,
His peace he never can leave behind.


Fate hurries him onward with fury blind,
His peace he never can leave behind.


iTaking his two neighbors by the hand. The rest do
the same, forming a large semicircle. )

Away, then, my comrades, our chargers let's mount !

In the battle the bosom bounds lightly !
Youth boils, and life's goblet istill foams at the fount.


Awjiy I -wJiile the spirit glows brightly 1

Culess yo have courage your life to stake.

That life yo never your owu cuu make I


(Jnless ye have courage your life to stake,
That life ye never your own can make.

From William I'cU, net i. sceae 1.

Scene — The higJi roclnj fhore of the Lake of Lxiccvne, op
pox. te Hchwytz.

Tlie Lake forms an inlet in the land; a cottarje is near the
shore; a Flshcr-boy is rowing in a boat. Beyond the Lake
are seen thcgreenpas'ures, the villa ff<s, and farms of Schicylz,
gloxcing in the sunshine. On the left of the Spectator are
the peaks of the JIacken, enveloped in clouds; on his right, in
the distance, are seen the glaciers. Before the curtain rises,
the Ranzdes Vaches and the musicxtl sound of the cattle-
bells are heard, and continue also for some timo after the
scene opens.

FISHER-BOY {stnffs in his boat).

AiB — Bans des Vaches.

Bright smiles the lake, as it wooa to its deep,—
A boy on its margin of green lies asleep ;
Then hears he a strain,

Like the flute's gentle note,
Sweet as voices of angels
la Eden that float.
And when ho awakens, with ecstasy blest,
The waters are playing all over his' breast.
From tlie dei>tlis calls a voice :
" Dearest child, with me go \
I lure down the sleeper,
1 draw him below."


HEKDSMAN (on the mountain).
Air — Variation of the Ranz des Vachea.

Ye meadows, farewell !
Ye pastures so glomng '
The herdsman is going,
For summer has fled !
"We depart to the mountain ; we'll come back again,
When the cuckoo is calling, — when wakens the strain, —
When the earth is trick'd out with her flowers so gay,
(When the stream sparkles bright in the sweet mouth of

Ye meadows, farewell !
Ye pastures so glowing !
Tlie herdsman is going.
For summer has fled !

CHAMOIS-HUNTER (appearing on th", top of a rock^
Air — Second Variation of the Ranz des Vaches,

O'er the heights growls the thunder, while quivers the

Yet no fear feels the hunter, though dizzy the ridgo ;
He strides nndaunted.

O'er plains icy-bound,
Where spring never blossoms,
Nor verdure is found ;
And, a broad sea of mist lying under his feet,
Man's dwellings his vision no longer can greet ;
The world he but views

"Vvlien the clouds broken are, —
With its i):istures so green,
Through the vapor afar.

i 't'\ dliani TcU, act ili, soiO« L
"WauiXB sings:

Bow aii'l nrro'.v bearing
Over hills and streams

Mo\H'3 the hnntrr daring,
Sovju as daylight glearuH.

As all flying creatures
Own the eagle's sway,

3o tlie hunter, nature's
Mounts and crags obey.

Over space he reigneth, '
And ho makes his prize

A.11 his l)olt attaint th,
All that creeps or flies.

Fro»n Williain Tell, act iv, scene 3.


Death comes to man with hasty stride.
No respite is to him e'er given ;

He's stricken down in manhood's pride,
E'en in mid race from earth he's driven

Prepar'd, or not, to go from here,

Before his Judge he must appear \

From Turandot, act ii, scene 4


The tree whereon decay

All tliose from mort.ils sprung,-
FuU old, and yet whoso spray

Is ever green and youivg ;


To catch the light, it rolls
Each leaf upon one side ;

The other, black as coals,
The sun has ne'er described.

It places on new rings

As often as it blows ;
The age, too, of all things

To moi-tal gaze it shows.
Upon its bark so green

A name oft meets the eye,
Tet 'tis no longer seen.

When it grows old and dry.
This tree — what can it mean ?

I wait for thy reply. *

From Mary Stuart, act iii, scene 1.

Sjene — A Park. Mary advances hastily from behin^
some trees. Hannah Ivennedv follows her slowly.


Let me my newly- won liberty taste I

Let me rejoice as a child once again !
And as on pinions, with airy foot haste
Over the tapestried green of the plain I
Have I escap'd from my prison so drear ?

Shall I no more in my sad dungeon pine?
Let me in long and in thirsty draughts hei»
Drink in the breezes, so free, so divine I

Thanks, thanks, ye trees, in smiling verdure dress'd.
In tliat yo vail my prison-walls from sight !

I'll dream that I am free and blest :

Why should I waken from a dream so bright ?

Do not the spacious heavens encompass me ?

Behold ! my gaze, unshackled, free,

• The year.


Pierces with joy the trnrklrss realms of light!
There, Avhoro tlie grey-ting'd hills of mist project,

My kiiip<loin'8 boundnrios begin ;
You cloiuls, tliiit tow'rd the south their course direct

Frauce's far-distaut oceau ueek to win.

Swift-flying clouds, hardy Bailors through air !
Mortid hath roam'd with ye, sail'd with ye, ne'er .
Greetings of love to my youthful home bear !
I am ii prisoner, I am in chains.
Ah, not a herald, save )ic, now rematus !
Free through tlie air hath your path ever been,
Ye are not subject to England's proud queen !

Yonder's a fisherman trimming his boat.

E'en that frail skill" from all danger might tear me,

And to the dwellings of friends might bear me.
Scarcely his earnings can keeii life afloat,
llichlv with treasures his hip I'd heap over, —

Oh ! what a draiight should reward him to-day J
Fortune held fast in his nets he'd discover.

If in his bark he Avould take me away !

Hear'st thou the horn of the hunter resound,
Wak'ning the echo through forest and plain?

Ah, on my spiritc d courser to bound !

Once more to jt)in in the mirth-stirring train !
Hark ! how the dearly-lov'd tones come again I

Blissful, yet sad, the remembrance they wake ;
Oft have they fallen with joy on mine ear,
When in the highlands the bugle rang clear,

Bousing the chase over mountain and brake.

From The Maid of Orleans, Prologiie, scene 4.
JOAN OF ARC {soliloquizing).

Farewell, yc mountains, and ye pastures dear
Ye still and happy valleys, fare ye well !

No longer may Joan's footsteps linger here I
Joan bids ye now a long, a last farewell 1


Te meadows that I water'd, and each busli
Set by my bands, ne'er may your verdure fail !
Farewell, ye grots, ye springs that cooling gush !

Thou echo, blissful voice of this sweet vale.
So Avont to give me back an answering strain, —
Joan must depart, and ne'er return again !

Te haunts of all my silent joys of old,
I leave ye now beliiud for evermore !

Disperse, ye lambs, far o'er the trackless wold !
She now hath gone who tended you of yore !

I must away to guard another fold,

On yonder field of danger, stain'd with gore.

Thus am I bidden by a spirit's tone :

'Tis no vain earthly longing diives me on.

For he who erst to Moses on the height
Of Horeb, in the fiery bush came down,

And bade him stand iu haughty Pharaoh's sight, -^-
He who made choice of Jesse's jiious son.

The shepherd, as his champion in the fight, —
He who to shepherds grace hath ever shown, —

He thus address'd me from this lofty tree :

"Go hence ! On earth my witness thou shalt be .'

"In rugged brass, then, clothe thy members now,
In steel thy gentle bosom must be dress'd !

No mortal love tliy heart must e'er allow.
With earthly passion's sinful flame ijossess'd.

Ne'er will the bridal wreath adorn thy brow,
No darling infant blossom on thy breast ;

Yet thou with warlike honors shalt be laden.

Raising the high above each earthly maiden.

" For when the bravest in the fight despair.
When Franco appears to wait her final blow,

Then thou my lioly Oriliamme must bear ;
And, as the rii)en'd corn the reapers mow.

Hew down the conqueror as he triumphs there ;
His fortune's wheel thou thus wilt overthrow,

To France's hero-sons salvations bring.

Deliver Ilheims once more, and crown thy king I


The Lord hath promis'd to seud down a sipn :
A helmet He hath sent, it comes from Jfiin, —

His sword endows mine ami with Htreugth divinei,
I feel the couraf^e of the cherubim ;

To join tlio battle-turmoil huw I pine !

A raffing tempest thrills through ev'ry limb ;

Tlie summons to the field bursts on mine ear,

My charger paws the ground, the trump rings clear.

From The Maid of Orleans, act iv, scene 1.

Scene — A hall prepared for a festival.

The pillars are covered tvith festoons of flowers; Jlute*
and hautboys are heard behind the scene.

Joan of aec (soliloquizing).

Rach weapon rests, war's tumults cease to sound,
While dance and song succeed the bloody fray ;

Through ev'ry street the merry footsteps bound,
Altar and church are clad in bright ai'ray.

And gates of branches green aiise around,
Ovc^ the columns twine the garlands gay ;

Kheims cannot hold the ever-swelling train

That seeks tlie nation-festival to gain.

All with one joyous feeling are elate,

One single thought is thrilling ev'ry breast ;

What, until now, was sever'd by fierce hate.
Is by the general rapture truly bless'd.

By each who call'd this land his parent-state,
The name of Frenchman proudly is confess'd ;

The glory is reviv'd of olden days,

And to her regal son Franco homage pays.

Yet / who have achiev'd this work of pride,
/ cannot share the rapture felt by all ;

My heart is chang'd, my heart is tum'd aside,
It shuns t'he splendor of this festival ;

Tis in the British camp it seeks to hide, —
'Tis ou the foe my yeai'uiug glances fall ;

And from the joyous circle I must steal.
My bosom's crime o'erpowering to conceaL

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