The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Poems of Schiller — Suppressed poems This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. Title: The Poems of Schiller — Suppressed poems Author: Friedrich Schiller Release date: December 8, 2004 [eBook #6797] Most recently updated: December 30, 2020 Language: English Credits: Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger *** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF SCHILLER — SUPPRESSED POEMS *** Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger SCHILLER'S POEMS By Frederich Shiller SUPPRESSED POEMS. CONTENTS: The Journalists and Minos Bacchus in the Pillory Spinosa To the Fates The Parallel Klopstock and Wieland The Muses' Revenge The Hypochondriacal Pluto (A Romance) Book I Book II Book III Reproach. To Laura The Simple Peasant Actaeon Man's Dignity The Messiah Thoughts on the 1st October, 1781 Epitaph Quirl The Plague (A Phantasy) Monument of Moor the Robber The Bad Monarchs The Satyr and My Muse The Peasants The Winter Night The Wirtemberger The Mole Hymn to the Eternal Dialogue Epitaph on a Certain Physiognomist Trust in Immortality THE JOURNALISTS AND MINOS. I chanced the other eve,-- But how I ne'er will tell,-- The paper to receive. That's published down in hell. In general one may guess, I little care to see This free-corps of the press Got up so easily; But suddenly my eyes A side-note chanced to meet, And fancy my surprise At reading in the sheet:-- "For twenty weary springs" (The post from Erebus, Remark me, always brings Unpleasant news to us)-- "Through want of water, we Have well-nigh lost our breath; In great perplexity Hell came and asked for Death; "'They can wade through the Styx, Catch crabs in Lethe's flood; Old Charon's in a fix, His boat 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 all directions go; The devils needs must rise, And bring him news below. "Hurrah! The secret's told They've caught the robber's nest; A merry feast let's hold! Come, hell, and join the rest! "An author's countless band, Stalked round Cocytus' brink, Each bearing in his hand A glass for holding ink. "And into casks they drew The water, strange to say, As boys suck sweet wine through An elder-reed in play. "Quick! o'er them cast the net, Ere they have time to flee! Warm welcome ye will get, So come to Sans-souci! "Smelt by the king ere long, He sharpened up his tooth, And thus addressed the throng (Full angrily, in truth): "'The robbers is't we see? What trade? What land, perchance?'-- 'German news-writers we!'-- Enough to make us dance! "'A wish I long have known To bid ye stop and dine, Ere ye by Death were mown, That brother-in-law of mine. "'Yet now by Styx I swear, Whose flood ye would imbibe, That torments and despair Shall fill your vermin-tribe! "'The pitcher seeks the well, Till broken 'tis one day; They who for ink would smell, The penalty must pay. "'So seize them by their thumbs, And loosen straight my beast E'en now he licks his gums, Impatient for the feast.'-- "How quivered every limb Beneath the bull-dog's jaws Their honors baited him, And he allowed 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! BACCHUS IN THE PILLORY. Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb Deaf and dumb, Twirl the cane so troublesome! Sprigs of fashion by the dozen Thou dost bring to book, good cousin. Cousin, thou art not in clover; Many a head that's filled with smoke Thou hast twirled and well-nigh broke, Many a clever one perplexed, Many a stomach sorely vexed, Turning it completely over; Many a hat put on awry, Many a lamb chased cruelly, Made streets, houses, edges, trees, Dance around us fools with ease. Therefore thou are not in clover, Therefore thou, like other folk, Hast thy head filled full of smoke, Therefore thou, too, art perplexed, And thy stomach's sorely vexed, For 'tis turned completely over; Therefore thou art not in clover. Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb Deaf and dumb, Twirl the carle so troublesome! Seest thou how our tongues and wits Thou hast shivered into bits-- Seest thou this, licentious wight? How we're fastened to a string, Whirled around in giddy ring, Making all like night appear, Filling with strange sounds our ear? Learn it in the stocks aright! When our ears wild noises shook, On the sky we cast no look, Neither stock nor stone reviewed, But were punished as we stood. Seest thou now, licentious wight? That, to us, yon flaring sun Is the Heidelbergers' tun; Castles, mountains, trees, and towers, Seem like chopin-cups of ours. Learn'st thou now, licentious wight? Learn it in the stocks aright! Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb, 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 thy tricks are spent and past, To the devil gone at last Like a silly fop thou'lt prate, Like a washerwoman rate. Thou art but a simpleton. Now thou mayest--more shame to thee-- Run away, because of me; Cupid, that young rogue, may glory Learning wisdom from thy story; Haste, thou sluggard, hence to flee As from glass is cut our wit, So, like lightning, 'twill be split; If thou won't be chased away, Let each folly also stay Seest my meaning? Think of me! Idle one, away with thee! SPINOSA. A mighty oak here ruined lies, Its top was wont to kiss the skies, Why is it now o'erthrown?-- The peasants needed, so they said, Its wood wherewith to build a shed, And so they've cut it down. TO THE FATES. Not in the crowd of masqueraders gay, Where coxcombs' wit with wondrous splendor flares, And, easier than the 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 Than when to heaven it pays its vows; And not behind the curtain's cunning veil, Where the world's eye is hid by cheating night, And glowing flames the hearts assail, That seemed but chilly in the light,-- Where wisdom we surprise with shame-dyed lip, While Phoebus' rays she boldly drinks, Where men, like thievish children, nectar sip, And from the spheres e'en Plato sinks-- To ye--to ye, O lonely sister-band, Daughters of destiny, ascend, When o'er the lyre all-gently sweeps my hand, These strains, where bliss and sadness blend. You only has no sonnet ever wooed, To win your gold no usurer e'er sighed No coxcomb e'er with plaints your steps pursued, For you, Arcadian shepherd ne'er has died. Your gentle fingers ye forever 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 spared that life whilst scarce begun, Receive this nosegay, Lachesis! Full often thorns upon the thread, But oftener roses, thou hast strung; For thorns 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 checked its free, unfettered course. Oft, in sweet hours of heavenly bliss, Too fine appeared the thread to me; Still oftener, when near sorrow's dark abyss, Too firm its fabric seemed to be. Clotho, for this and other lies, Thy pardon I with tears implore; Henceforth I'll take whatever prize Sage Clotho gives, and asks 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 fulfill'st! Oh, goddess! when, enchained 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! THE PARALLEL. Her likeness Madame Ramler bids me find; I try to think in vain, to whom or how 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 wont to paint her cheeks at night, While, with untiring ardor, she coquets. The moon--for this may Herod give her thanks!-- Reserves her best till night may have returned; Our lady swallows up by day the francs That she at night-time may have earned. The moon first swells, and then is once more lean, As surely as the month comes round; With Madame Ramler 'tis the same, I ween-- But she to need more time is found! The moon to love her silver-horns is said, But makes a sorry show; She likes them on her husband's head,-- She's right to have it so KLOPSTOCK AND WIELAND. (WHEN THEIR MINIATURES WERE HANGING SIDE BY SIDE.) In truth, when I have crossed dark Lethe's river, The man upon the right I'll love forever, For 'twas he first that wrote for me. For all the world the left man wrote, full clearly, And so we all should love him dearly; Come, left man! I must needs kiss thee! THE MUSES' REVENGE. AN ANECDOTE OF HELICON. Once the nine all weeping came To the god of song "Oh, papa!" they there exclaim-- "Hear our tale of wrong! "Young ink-lickers swarm about Our dear Helicon; There they fight, manoeuvre, shout, Even to thy throne. "On their steeds they galop 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 renewed. "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 frightened, pray, my dears, We'll soon 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 way, Soon as night ensues. "Then with kisses dark, I trust, They'll the dear child greet, Satisfying their wild lust Just as it is meet!"-- Said and done!--Then one from hell Soon was dressed aright. Scarcely had the prey, they tell, Caught the fellow's sight, Than, as kites a pigeon follow, They attacked her straight-- Part, not all, though, 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 company? . . . . . The goddess a miscarriage had, good lack! And was delivered of an--Almanac! THE HYPOCHONDRIACAL PLUTO. A ROMANCE. BOOK I. The sullen mayor who reigns in hell, By mortals Pluto hight, Who thrashes all his subjects well, Both morn 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 hindquarters very red, While pricks, as from a nettle-bed, He felt both here and there: A burning sun, too, chanced to shine, And boiled down all his blood to brine. 'Tis true he drank full many a draught Of Phlegethon's black flood; By cupping, leeches, doctor's craft, And venesection, fore and aft, They took from him much blood. Full many a clyster was applied, And purging, too, was also tried. His doctor, versed in sciences, With wig beneath his hat, Argued and showed with wondrous ease, From Celsus and Hippocrates, When he in judgment sat,-- "Right worshipful the mayor of hell, The liver's wrong, I see full well." "He's but a booby," Pluto said, "With all his trash and pills! A man like me--pray where's his head? A young man yet--his wits have fled! While youth my veins yet fills! Unless electuaries he'll bring, Full in his face my club I'll fling!" Or right or wrong,--'twas a hard case To weather such a trial; (Poor men, who lose a king's good grace!) He's straight saluted in the face By every splint and phial. He very wisely made no fuss; This hint he learnt of Cerberus. "Go! fetch the barber of the skies, Apollo, to me soon!" An airy courier straightway flies Upon his beast, and onward hies, And skims past poles and moon; As he went off, the clock struck four, At five his charger reached the door. Just then Apollo happened--"Heigh-ho! A sonnet to have made?" Oh, dear me, no!--upon Miss Io (Such is the tale I heard from Clio) The midwife to have played. The boy, as if stamped out of wax, Might Zeus as father fairly tax. He read the letter half asleep, Then started in dismay: "The road is long, and hell is deep, Your rocks I know are rough and steep . . . Yet like a king he'll pay!" He dons his cap of mist and furs, Then through the air the charger spurs. With locks all frizzled a la mode, And ruffles smooth and nice, In gala dress, that brightly glowed (A gift Aurora had bestowed), With watch-chains of high price, With toes turned out, and chapeau bas, He stood before hell's mighty czar. BOOK II. The grumbler, in his usual tone, Received him with a curse: "To Pomerania straight begone! Ugh! how he smells of eau de Cologne! Why, brimstone isn't worse. He'd best be off to heaven again, Or he'll infect hell's wide domain." The god of pills, in sore surprise, A spring then backwards took: "Is this his highness' usual guise? 'Tis in the brain, I see, that lies The mischief--what a look! See how his eyes in frenzy roll! The case is bad, upon my soul! "A journey to Elysium The infectus would dissolve, Making the saps less tough become, As through the Capitolium And stomach they revolve. Provisionally be it so: Let's start then--but incognito!" "Ay, worthy sir, no doubt well meant! If, in these regions hazy, As with you folk, so charged with scent, You dapper ones who heaven frequent, 'Twere proper to be lazy, If hell a master needed not, Why, then I'd follow on the spot! "Ha! if the cat once turned her back, Pray where would be the mice? They'd sally forth from every crack, My very mufti would attack, Spoil all things in a trice! Oddsbodikins! 'tis pretty cool! I'll let him see I'm no such fool! "A pleasant uproar happened erst, When they assailed my tower! No fault of mine 'twas, at the worst, That from their desks and chains to burst Philosophers had power. What, has there e'er escaped a poet? Help, heaven! what misery to know it! "When days are long, folks talk more stuff! Upon your seats, no doubt, With all your cards and music rough, And scribblings too, 'tis hard enough The moments to eke out. Idleness, like a flea will gnaw On velvet cushions,--as on straw. "My brother no attempt omits To drive away ennui; His lightning round about him flits, The target with his storms he hits (Those howls prove that to me), Till Rhea's trembling shoulders ache, And force me e'en for hell to quake. "Were I grandfather Coelus, though, You wouldn't soon escape! Into my belly straight you'd go, And in your swaddling-clothes cry 'oh!' And through five windows gape! First o'er my stream you'd have to come, And then, perhaps, to Elysium! "Your steed you mounted, I dare say, In hopes to catch a goose; If it is worth the trouble, pray Tell what you've heard from me to-day, At shaving time, to Zeus. Just leave him then to swallow it; I don't care what he thinks a bit; "You'd better now go homeward straight! Your servant! there's the door! For all your pains--one moment wait! I'll give you--liberal is the rate-- A piece of ruby-ore. In heaven such things are rareties; We use them for base purposes." BOOK III. The god at once, then, said farewell, At small politeness striving; When sudden through the crowds of hell A flying courier rushed pell-mell, From Tellus' bounds arriving. "Monarch! a doctor follows me! Behold this wondrous prodigy!" "Place for the doctor!" each one said-- He comes with spurs and whip, To every one he nods his head, As if he had been born and bred In Tartarus--the rip! As jaunty, fearless, full of nous As Britons in the Lower House. "Good morrow, worthy sirs!--Ahem! I'm glad to see that here (Where all they of Prometheus' stem Must come, whene'er the Fates condemn) One meets with such good cheer! Why for Elysium care a rush? I'd rather see hell's fountains gush!" "Stop! stop! his impudence, I vow, Its due reward shall meet; By Charles's wain, I swear it now! He must--no questions I'll allow,-- Prescribe me a receipt. All hell is mine, I'm Pluto hight! Make haste to bring your wares to light!" The doctor, with a knowing look, The swarthy king surveyed; He neither felt his pulse, nor took The usual steps,--(see Galen's book),-- No difference 'twould have made As piercing as electric fire He eyed him to his heart's desire. "Monarch! I'll tell thee in a trice The thing that's needed here; Though desperate may seem the advice-- The case itself is very nice-- And children dragons fear. Devil must devil eat!--no more!-- Either a wife,--or hellebore! "Whether she scold, or sportive play, ('Tween these, no medium's known), She'll drive the incubus away That has assailed thee many a day Upon thine iron throne. She'll make the nimble spirits fleet Up towards the head, down towards the feet." Long may the doctor honored be Who let this saying fall! He ought to have his effigy By Phidias sculptured, so that he May be discerned by all; A monument forever thriving, Boerhaave, Hippocrates, surviving! REPROACH--TO LAURA. Maiden, stay!--oh, whither wouldst thou go? Do I still or pride or grandeur show? Maiden, was it right? Thou the giant mad'st a dwarf once more, Scattered'st far the mountains that of yore Climbed to glory's sunny height. Thou hast doomed my flowerets to decay, All the phantoms bright hast blown away, Whose sweet follies formed the hero's trust; All my plans that proudly raised their head Thou dost, with gentle zephyr-tread, Prostrate, laughing, in the dust. To the godhead, eagle-like, I flew,-- Smiling, fortune's juggling wheel to view, Careless wheresoe'er her ball might fly; Hovering far beyond Cocytus' wave, Death and life receiving like a slave-- Life and death from out one beaming eye! Like the victors, who, with thunder-lance, On the iron plain of glory dance, Starting from their mistress' breast,-- From Aurora's rosy bed upsprings God's bright sun, to roam o'er towns of kings, And to make the young world blest! Toward the hero doth this heart still strain? Drink I, eagle, still the fiery rain Of thine eye, that burneth to destroy? In the glances that destructive gleam, Laura's love I see with sweetness beam,-- Weep to see it--like a boy! My repose, like yonder image bright, Dancing in the waters--cloudless, light, Maiden, hath been slain by thee! On the dizzy height now totter I-- Laura--if from me--my Laura fly! Oh, the thought to madness hurries me! Gladly shout the revellers as they quaff, Raptures in the leaf-crowned goblet laugh, Jests within the golden wine have birth, Since the maiden hath enslaved my mind, I have left each youthful sport behind, Friendless roam I o'er the earth. Hear I still bright glory's thunder-tone? Doth the laurel still allure me on? Doth thy lyre, Apollo Cynthius? In my breast no echoes now arise, Every shamefaced muse in sorrow flies,-- And thou, too, Apollo Cynthius? Shall I still be, as a woman, tame? Do my pulses, at my country's name, Proudly burst their prison-thralls? Would I boast the eagle's soaring wing? Do I long with Roman blood to spring, When my Hermann calls? Oh, how sweet the eye's wild gaze divine Sweet to quaff the incense at that shrine! Prouder, bolder, swells the breast. That which once set every sense on fire, That which once could every nerve inspire, Scarce a half-smile now hath power to wrest! That Orion might receive my fame, On the time-flood's heaving waves my name Rocked in glory in the mighty tide; So that Kronos' dreaded scythe was shivered, When against my monument is quivered, Towering toward the firmament in pride. Smil'st thou?--No? to me naught's perished now! Star and laurel I'll to fools allow, To the dead their marble cell;-- Love hath granted all as my reward, High o'er man 'twere easy to have soared, So I love him well! THE SIMPLE PEASANT. [62] MATTHEW. Gossip, you'll like to hear, no doubt! A learned work has just come out-- Messias is the name 'twill bear; The man has travelled through the air, And on the sun-beplastered roads Has lost shoe-leather by whole loads,-- Has seen the heavens lie open wide, And hell has traversed with whole hide. The thought has just occurred to me That one so skilled as he must be May tell us how our flax and wheat arise. What say you?--Shall I try to ascertain? LUKE. You fool, to think that any one so wise About mere flax and corn would rack his brain. ACTAEON. Thy wife is destined to deceive thee! She'll seek another's arms and leave thee, And horns upon thy head will shortly sprout! How dreadful that when bathing thou shouldst see me (No ether-bath can wash the stigma out), And then, in perfect innocence, shouldst flee me! MAN'S DIGNITY. I am a man!--Let every one Who is a man, too, spring With joy beneath God's shining sun, And leap on high, and sing! To God's own image fair on earth Its stamp I've power to show; Down to the front, where heaven has birth With boldness I dare go. 'Tis well that I both dare and can! When I a maiden see, A voice exclaims: thou art a man! I kiss her tenderly. And redder then the maiden grows, Her bodice seems too tight-- That I'm a man the maiden knows, Her bodice therefore's tight. Will she, perchance, for pity cry, If unawares she's caught? She finds that I'm a man--then, why By her is pity sought? I am a man; and if alone She sees me drawing near, I make the emperor's daughter run, Though ragged I appear. This golden watchword wins the smile Of many a princess fair; They call--ye'd best look out the while, Ye gold-laced fellows there! That I'm a man is fully shown Whene'er my lyre I sweep; It thunders out a glorious tone-- It otherwise would creep. The spirit that my veins now hold, My manhood calls its brother! And both command, like lions bold, And fondly greet each other. From out this same creative flood From which we men have birth, Both godlike strength and genius bud, And everything of worth. My talisman all tyrants hates, And strikes them to the ground; Or guides us gladly through life's gates To where the dead are found. E'en Pompey, at Pharsalia's fight, My talisman o'erthrew; On German sand it hurled with might Rome's sensual children, too. Didst see the Roman, proud and stern, Sitting on Afric's shore? His eyes like Hecla seem to burn, And fiery flames outpour. Then comes a frank and merry knave, And spreads it through the land: "Tell them that thou on Carthage's grave Hast seen great Marius stand!" Thus speaks the son of Rome with pride, Still mighty in his fall; He is a man, and naught beside,-- Before him tremble all. His grandsons afterwards began Their portions to o'erthrow, And thought it well that every man Should learn with grace to crow. For shame, for shame,--once more for shame! The wretched ones?--they've even Squandered the tokens of their fame, The choicest gifts of heaven. God's counterfeit has sinfully Disgraced his form divine, And in his vile humanity Has wallowed like the swine. The face of earth each vainly treads, Like gourds, that boys in sport Have hollowed out to human heads, With skulls, whose brains are--naught. Like wine that by a chemist's art Is through retorts refined, Their spirits to the deuce depart, The phlegma's left behind. From every woman's face they fly, Its very aspect dread,-- And if they dared--and could not--why, 'Twere better they were dead. They shun all worthies when they can, Grief at their joy they prove-- The man who cannot make a man, A man can never love! The world I proudly wander o'er, And plume myself and sing I am a man!--Whoe'er is more? Then leap on high, and spring! THE MESSIAD. Religion 'twas produced this poem's fire; Perverted also?--prithee, don't inquire! THOUGHTS ON THE 1ST OCTOBER, 1781. What mean the joyous sounds from yonder vine-clad height? What the exulting Evoe? [63] Why glows the cheek? Whom is't that I, with pinions light, Swinging the lofty Thyrsus see? Is it the genius whom the gladsome throng obeys? Do I his numerous train descry? In plenty's teeming horn the gifts of heaven he sways, And reels from very ecstacy!-- See how the golden grape in glorious beauty shines, Kissed by the earliest morning-beams! The shadow of yon bower, how lovingly it signs, As it with countless blessings teams! Ha! glad October, thou art welcome unto me!-- October's first-born, welcome thou! Thanks of a purer kind, than all who worship thee, More heartfelt thanks I'm bringing now! For thou to me the one whom I have loved so well, And love with fondness to the grave, Who merits in my heart forevermore to dwell,-- The best of friends in Rieger [64] gave. 'Tis true thy breath doth rock the leaves upon the trees, And sadly make their charms decay; Gently they fall:--and swift, as morning phantasies With those who waken, fly away. 'Tis true that on thy track the fleecy spoiler hastes, Who makes all Nature's chords resound With discord dull, and turns the plains and groves to wastes, So that they sadly mourn around. See how the gloomy forms of years, as on they roll, Each joyous banquet overthrows, When, in uplifted hand, from out the foaming bowl, Joy's noble purple brightly flows! See how they disappear, when friends sweet converse hold, And loving wander arm-in-arm; And, to revenge themselves on winter's north wind cold, Upon each other's breasts grow warm! And when spring's children smile upon us once again, When all the youthful splendor bright, When each melodious note of each sweet rapturous strain Awakens with it each delight: How joyous then the stream that our whole soul pervades! What life from out our glances pours! Sweet Philomela's song, resounding through the glades, Ourselves, our youthful strength restores! Oh, may this whisper breathe--(let Rieger bear in mind The storm by which in age we're bent!)-- His guardian angel, when the evening's star so kind Gleams softly from the firmament! In silence be he led to yonder thundering height, And guided be his eye, that he, In valley and on plain, may see his friends aright. And that, with growing ecstacy, On yonder holy spot, when he their number tells, He may experience friendship's bliss, Now first unveiled, until with pride his bosom swells, Conscious that all their love is his. Then will the distant voice be loudly heard to say: "And G--, too, is a friend of thine! When silvery locks no more around his temples play, G-- still will be a friend of thine!" "E'en yonder"--and now in his eye the crystal tear Will gleam--"e'en yonder he will love! Love thee too, when his heart, in yonder spring-like sphere, Linked on to thine, can rapture prove!" EPITAPH. Here lies a man cut off by fate Too soon for all good men; For sextons he died late--too late For those who wield the pen. QUIRL. You tell me that you feel surprise Because Quirl's paper's grown in size; And yet they're crying through the street That there's a rise in bread and meat. THE PLAGUE. A PHANTASY. Plague's contagious murderous breath God's strong might with terror reveals, As through the dreary valley of death With its brotherhood fell it steals! Fearfully throbs the anguish-struck heart, Horribly quivers each nerve in the frame; Frenzy's wild laughs the torment proclaim, Howling convulsions disclose the fierce smart. Fierce delirium writhes upon the bed-- Poisonous mists hang o'er the cities dead; Men all haggard, pale, and wan, To the shadow-realm press on. Death lies brooding in the humid air, Plague, in dark graves, piles up treasures fair, And its voice exultingly raises. Funeral silence--churchyard calm, Rapture change to dread alarm.-- Thus the plague God wildly praises! MONUMENT OF MOOR THE ROBBER. [65] 'Tis ended! Welcome! 'tis ended Oh thou sinner majestic, All thy terrible part is now played! Noble abased one! Thou, of thy race beginner and ender! Wondrous son of her fearfulest humor, Mother Nature's blunder sublime! Through cloud-covered night a radiant gleam! Hark how behind him the portals are closing! Night's gloomy jaws veil him darkly in shade! Nations are trembling, At his destructive splendor afraid! Thou art welcome! 'Tis ended! Oh thou sinner majestic, All thy terrible part is now played! Crumble,--decay In the cradle of wide-open heaven! Terrible sight to each sinner that breathes, When the hot thirst for glory Raises its barriers over against the dread throne! See! to eternity shame has consigned thee! To the bright stars of fame Thou hast clambered aloft, on the shoulders of shame! Yet time will come when shame will crumble beneath thee, When admiration at length will be thine! With moist eye, by thy sepulchre dreaded, Man has passed onward-- Rejoice in the tears that man sheddeth, Oh thou soul of the judged! With moist eye, by the sepulchre dreaded, Lately a maiden passed onward, Hearing the fearful announcement Told of thy deeds by the herald of marble; And the maiden--rejoice thee! rejoice thee! Sought not to dry up her tears. Far away I stood as the pearls were falling, And I shouted: Amalia! Oh, ye youths! Oh, ye youths!-- With the dangerous lightning of genius Learn to play with more caution! Wildly his bit champs the charger of Phoebus; Though, 'neath the reins of his master, More gently he rocks earth and heaven, Reined by a child's hand, he kindles Earth and heaven in blazing destruction! Obstinate Phaeton perished, Buried beneath the sad wreck. Child of the heavenly genius! Glowing bosom all panting for action! Art thou charmed by the tale of my robber? Glowing like time was his bosom, and panting for action! He, like thee, was the child of the heavenly genius. But thou smilest and goest-- Thy gaze flies through the realms of the world's long story, Moor, the robber, it finds not there-- Stay, thou youth, and smile not! Still survive all his sins and his shame-- Robber Moor liveth--in all but name. THE BAD MONARCHS. [66] Earthly gods--my lyre shall win your praise, Though but wont its gentle sounds to raise When the joyous feast the people throng; Softly at your pompous-sounding names, Shyly round your greatness purple flames, Trembles now my song. Answer! shall I strike the golden string, When, borne on by exultation's wing, O'er the battle-field your chariots trail? When ye, from the iron grasp set free, For your mistress' soft arms, joyously Change your pond'rous mail?-- Shall my daring hymn, ye gods, resound, While the golden splendor gleams around, Where, by mystic darkness overcome, With the thunderbolt your spleen may play, Or in crime humanity array, Till--the grave is dumb? Say! shall peace 'neath crowns be now my theme? Shall I boast, ye princes, that ye dream?-- While the worm the monarch's heart may tear, Golden sleep twines round the Moor by stealth, As he, at the palace, guards the wealth, Guards--but covets ne'er. Show how kings and galley-slaves, my Muse, Lovingly one single pillow use,-- How their lightnings flatter, when surpressed, When their humors have no power to harm, When their mimic minotaurs are calm, And--the lions rest! Up, thou Hecate! with thy magic seal Make the barred-up grave its wealth reveal,-- Hark! its doors like thunder open spring; When death's dismal blast is heard to sigh, And the hair on end stands fearfully, Princes' bliss I sing! Do I hear the strand, the coast, detect Where your wishes' haughty fleet was wrecked, Where was stayed your greatness' proud career That they ne'er with glory may grow warm, Night, with black and terror-spreading arm, Forges monarchs here. On the death-chest sadly gleams the crown, With its heavy load of pearls weighed down, And the sceptre, needed now no more. In what splendor is the mould arrayed! Yet but worms are with the body paid, That--the world watched o'er. Haughty plants within that humble bed See how death their pomp decayed and fled With unblushing ribaldry besets! They who ruled o'er north and east and west Suffer now his ev'ry nauseous jest, And--no sultan threats? Leap for joy, ye stubborn dumb, to-day, And your heavy slumber shake away! From the battle, victory upsprings! Hearken to the trump's exulting song! Ye are worshipped by the shouting throng!-- Rouse ye, then, ye kings! Seven sleepers!--to the clarion hark! How it rings, and how the fierce dogs bark! Shouts from out a thousand barrels whizz; Eager steeds are neighing for the wood,-- Soon the bristly boar rolls in his blood,-- Yours the triumph is! But what now?--Are even princes dumb? Tow'rd me scornful echoes ninefold come, Stealing through the vault's terrific gloom-- Sleep assails the page by slow degrees, And Madonna gives to you the keys Of--her sleeping-room. Not an answer--hushed and still is all-- Does the veil, then, e'en on monarchs fall, Which enshrouds their humble flatt'rers glance? And ye ask for worship in the dust, Since the blind jade, Fate, a world has thrust In your purse, perchance? And ye clatter, giant puppet troops, Marshalled in your proudly childish groups, Like the juggler on the opera scene?-- Though the sound may please the vulgar ear, Yet the skilful, filled with sadness, jeer Powers so great, but mean. Let your towering shame be hid from sight In the garment of a sovereign's right, From the ambush of the throne outspring! Tremble, though, before the voice of song Through the purple, vengeance will, ere long, Strike down e'en a king! THE SATYR AND MY MUSE. An aged satyr sought Around my Muse to pass, Attempting to pay court, And eyed her fondly through his glass. By Phoebus' golden torch, By Luna's pallid light, Around her temple's porch Crept the unhappy sharp-eared wight; And warbled many a lay, Her beauty's praise to sing, And fiercely scraped away On his discordant fiddle-string. With tears, too, swelled his eyes, As large as nuts, or larger; He gasped forth heavy sighs, Like music from Silenus' charger. The Muse sat still, and played Within her grotto fair, And peevishly surveyed Signor 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 charms canst thou display? Thou'rt swarthy as a Moor, And shaggy as a beast of prey. "I'm by a bard adored In far Teutonia's land; To him, who strikes the chord, I'm linked in firm and loving band." She spoke, and straightway fled The spoiler,--he pursued her, And, by his passion led, Soon caught her, shouted, and thus wooed her: "Thou prudish one, stay, stay! And hearken unto me! Thy poet, I dare say, Repents the pledge he gave thee. "Behold this pretty thing,-- No merit would I claim,-- Its weight I often fling On many a clown'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 whip 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 mayest hasten, miss, Upon thy German sweetheart's track." The Muse, with purpose sly, Ere long agreed to yield-- The satyr said good-by, And now the lash I wield! And I won't drop it here, Believe in what I say! The kisses of one's dear One does not lightly throw away. They kindle raptures sweet, But fools ne'er know their flame! The gentle Muse will kneel at honor's feet, But cudgels those who mar her fame. THE PEASANTS. [67] Look outside, good friend, I pray! 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; Drenched are coat and mantle too, Coat and mantle, both just new, Wretched plight, heaven 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 hide, Moon and stars decamp. Stumbling over stock 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 heavens now hide Ay, the devil! look outside! Ay, the deuce, then look outside! Listen to my prayer! Praying, singing, I have tried, Wouldst thou have me swear? 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! 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 vexed 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! Fare thee well--I'll homeward stride. THE WINTER NIGHT. Farewell! the beauteous sun is sinking fast, The moon lifts up 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 note, Arising from the forest's gloom. The fish repose within the watery deeps, The snail draws in his head; The dog beneath the table calmly sleeps, My wife is slumbering in her bed. A hearty welcome to ye, brethren mine! Friends of my life's young spring! Perchance around a flask of Rhenish wine Ye're gathered now, in joyous ring. The brimming goblet's bright and purple beams Mirror the world with joy, And pleasure from the golden grape-juice gleams-- Pleasure untainted by alloy. Concealed 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'er, in light and joyous mood, Your toils in the gymnasium; Ye count the oaths that Terence--may he ne'er, Though buried, calmly slumber!-- Caused you, despite Minelli's notes, 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 streamed down upon his book! All this is now involved in mist forever, The boy is now a man, And Frederick, wiser grown, discloses never What little Fritz once loved to plan. At length--a doctor one's declared to be,-- A regimental one! And then,--and not too soon,--discover we That plans soap-bubbles are alone. [68] Blow on! blow on! and let the bubbles rise, If but this heart remain! And if a German laurel as the prize Of song, 'tis given me to gain! THE WIRTEMBERGER. The name of Wirtemberg they hold To come from Wirth am berg [69], I'm told. A Wirtemberger who ne'er drinks No Wirtemberger is, methinks! THE MOLE. HUSBAND. The boy's my very image! See! Even the scars my small-pox left me! WIFE. I can believe it easily They once of all my senses reft me. HYMN TO THE ETERNAL. 'Twixt the heavens and earth, high in the airy ocean, In the tempest's cradle I'm borne with a rocking motion; Clouds are towering, Storms beneath me are lowering, Giddily all the wonders I see, And, O Eternal, I think of Thee! All Thy terrible pomp, lend to the Finite now, Mighty Nature! Oh, of Infinity, thou Giant daughter! Mirror God, as in water! Tempest, oh, let thine organ-peal God to the reasoning worm reveal! Hark! it peals--how the rocks quiver beneath its growls Zeboath's glorious name, wildly the hurricane howls! Graving the while With the lightning's style "Creatures, do ye acknowledge me?"-- Spare us, Lord! We acknowledge Thee! DIALOGUE. A. Hark, 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. Oh, dear me, no! A real misnomer! The fact is, he has his diploma; The other one has not. A. Eh? What? Has a diploma? In Suabia may such things be got? EPITAPH ON A CERTAIN PHYSIOGNOMIST. On every 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 read. TRUST IN IMMORTALITY. The dead has risen here, to live through endless ages; This I with firmness trust and know. I was first led to guess it by the sages, The knaves convince me that 'tis really so. APPENDIX OF POEMS ETC. IN SCHILLER'S DRAMATIC WORKS. APPENDIX. The following variations appear in the first two verses of Hector's Farewell, as given in The Robbers, act ii. scene 2. ANDROMACHE. Wilt thou, Hector, leave me?--leave me weeping, Where Achilles' murderous blade is heaping Bloody offerings on Patroclus' grave? Who, alas, will teach thine infant truly Spears to hurl, the gods to honor duly, When thou'rt buried 'neath dark Xanthus' wave? HECTOR. Dearest wife, go,--fetch my death-spear glancing, Let me join the battle-dance entrancing, For my shoulders bear the 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. The following additional verse is found in Amalia's Song, as sung in The Robbers, act iii. scene 1. It is introduced between the first and second verses, as they appear in poems. His embrace--what maddening rapture bound us! Bosom throbbed 'gainst bosom with wild might; Mouth and ear were chained--night reigned around us-- And the spirit winged toward heaven its flight. From The Robbers, act iv. scene 5. CHORUS OF ROBBERS. What so good for banishing sorrow As women, theft, and bloody affray? 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 the storm's o'erhead And deem the moon our planet. The 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 in 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! when under the axe each one quivering lies, When they bellow like calves, and fall round us 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! Our fee we get without delay-- They instantly Jack-Ketch us. One draught upon the road of liquor bright and clear, And hip! hip! hip; hurrah! we're seen no longer here! From The Robbers, act iv. scene 5. MOOR'S SONG. BRUTUS. Ye are welcome, peaceful realms of light! Oh, receive Rome's last-surviving son! From Philippi, from the murderous fight, Come I now, my race of sorrow run.-- Cassius, where art thou?--Rome overthrown! All my brethren's loving band destroyed! Safety find I at death's door alone, And the world to Brutus is a void! CAESAR. Who now, with the ne'er-subdued-one's tread, Hither from yon rocks makes haste to come?-- Ha! if by no vision I'm misled, 'Tis the footstep of a child of Rome.-- Son of Tiber--whence dost thou appear? Stands the seven-hilled city as of yore Oft her orphaned lot awakes my tear, For alas, her Caesar is no more? BRUTUS. Ha! thou with the three-and-twenty wounds! Who hath, dead one, summoned thee to light? Back to gaping Orcus' fearful bonds, Haughty mourner! triumph not to-night! On Philippi's iron altar, lo! Reeks now freedom's final victim's blood; Rome o'er Brutus' bier feels her death-throe,-- He seeks Minos.--Back to thy dark flood! CAESAR. Oh, the death-stroke Brutus' sword then hurled! Thou, too--Brutus--thou? Could this thing be? Son! It was thy father!--Son! the world Would have fallen heritage to thee! Go--'mongst Romans thou art deemed immortal, For thy steel hath pierced thy father's breast. Go--and shout it even to yon portal: "Brutus is 'mongst Romans deemed immortal, For his steel hath pierced his father's breast." Go--thou knowest now what on Lethe's strand Made me a prisoner stand.-- Now, grim steersman, push thy bark from land! BRUTUS. Father, stay!--In all earth's realms so fair, It hath been my lot to know but one, Who with mighty Caesar could compare; And of yore thou called'st him thy son. None but Caesar could a Rome o'erthrow, Brutus only made great Caesar fear; Where lives Brutus, Caesar's blood must flow; If thy path lies yonder, mine is here. From Wallenstein's Camp, scene 1. RECRUIT'S SONG. How sweet the wild sound Of drum and of fife! To roam o'er earth's round, Lead a wandering life, With steed trained 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 the breeze,-- Huzza, then! the Friedlander's banner for me! From Wallenstein's Camp, scene the last. SECOND CUIRASSIER sings. Up, up, my brave comrades! to horse! to horse! Let us haste to the field and to freedom! To the field, for 'tis there that is proved our hearts' force, 'Tis there that in earnest we need 'em! None other can there our places supply, Each must stand alone,--on himself must rely. CHORUS. None other can there our places supply, Each must stand alone,--on himself must rely. DRAGOON. Now freedom appears from the world to have flown, None but lords and their vassals one traces; While falsehood and cunning are ruling alone O'er the living cowardly races. The man who can look upon death without fear-- The soldier,--is now the sole freeman left here. CHORUS. The man who can look upon death without fear-- The soldier,--is now the sole freeman left here. FIRST YAGER. The cares of this life, he casts them away, Untroubled by fear or by sorrow; He rides to his fate with a countenance gay, And finds it to-day or to-morrow; And if 'tis to-morrow, to-day we'll employ To drink full deep of the goblet of joy, CHORUS. And if 'tis to-morrow, to-day we'll employ To drink full deep of the goblet of joy. [They refill their glasses and drink. CAVALRY SERGEANT. The skies o'er him shower his lot filled with mirth, He gains, without toil, its full measure; The peasant, who grubs in the womb of the earth, Believes that he'll find there the treasure, Through lifetime he shovels and digs like a slave, And digs--till at length he has dug his own grave. CHORUS. Through lifetime he shovels and digs like a slave, And digs--till at length he has dug his own grave. FIRST YAGER. The horseman, as well as his swift-footed beast, Are guests by whom all are affrighted, When glimmer the lamps at the wedding feast, In the banquet he joins uninvited; He woos not long, and with gold he ne'er buys, But carries by storm love's blissful prize. CHORUS. He woos not long, and with gold he ne'er buys, But carries by storm love's blissful prize. SECOND CUIRASSIER. 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. Fate hurries him onward with fury blind, His peace he never can leave behind. CHORUS. Fate hurries him onward with fury blind, His peace he can never leave behind, FIRST YAGER. (Taking his two neighbors by the hand. The rest do the same, forming a large semi-circle.) Away, then, my comrades, our chargers let's mount! In the battle the bosom bounds lightly! Youth boils, and life's goblet still foams at the fount, Away! while the spirit glows brightly! Unless ye have courage your life to stake, That life ye never your own can make! CHORUS. Unless ye have courage your life to stake, That life ye never your own can make! From William Tell, act i. scene 1. SCENE--The high rocky shore of the Lake of Lucerne, opposite Schwytz. The lake forms an inlet in the land; a cottage is near the shore; a fisher-boy is rowing in a boat. Beyond the lake are seen the green pastures, the villages and farms of Schwytz glowing in the sunshine. On the left of the spectator are the peaks of the Hacken, enveloped in clouds; on his right, in the distance, are seen the glaciers. Before the curtain rises the RANZ DES VACHES, and the musical sound of the cattle-bells are heard, and continue also for some time after the scene opens. FISHER-BOY (sings in his boat). AIR--Ranz des Vaches. Bright smiles the lake, as it woos 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 In Eden that float. And when he awakens, with ecstasy blest, The waters are playing all over his breast, From the depths calls a voice "Dearest child, with me go! I lure down the sleeper, I draw him below." HERDSMAN (on the mountain). AIR--Variation of the Ranz des Vaches. Ye meadows, farewell! Ye pastures so glowing! 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 tricked out with her flowers so gay, When the stream sparkles bright in the sweet month of May. Ye meadows, farewell! Ye pastures so glowing! The herdsman is going, For summer has fled! CHAMOIS-HUNTER (appearing on the top of a rock). AIR--Second Variation of the Ranz des Vaches. O'er the heights growls the thunder, while quivers the bridge, Yet no fear feels the hunter, though dizzy the ridge; He strides on undaunted, 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 When the clouds broken are-- With its pastures so green, Through the vapor afar. From William Tell, act iii. scene 1. WALTER sings. Bow and arrow bearing, Over hills and streams Moves the hunter daring, Soon as daylight gleams. As all flying creatures Own the eagle's sway, So the hunter, Nature's Mounts and crags obey. Over space he reigneth, And he makes his prize All his bolt attaineth, All that creeps or flies. From William Tell, act iv. scene 3. CHORUS OF BROTHERS OF MERCY. 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. Prepared, or not, to go from here, Before his Judge he must appear! From Turandot, act ii. scene 4. RIDDLE. The tree whereon decay All those from mortals sprung,-- Full old, and yet whose spray Is ever green and young; To catch the light, it rolls Each leaf upon one side; The other, black as coals, The sun has ne'er descried. It places on new rings As often as it blows; The age, too, of all things To mortal gaze it shows. Upon its bark so green A name oft meets the eye, Yet 'tis no longer seen, When it grows old and dry. This tree--what can it mean? I wait for thy reply. [70] From Mary Stuart, act iii, scene 1. SCENE--A Park. MARY advances hastily from behind some trees. HANNAH KENNEDY follows her slowly. MARY. Let me my newly-won liberty taste! Let me rejoice as a child once again! And, as on pinions, with airy foot hast Over the tapestried green of the plain! Have I escaped from my prison so drear? Shall I no more in my sad dungeon pine? Let me in long and in thirsty draughts here Drink in the breezes, so free, so divine Thanks, thanks, ye trees, in smiling verdure dressed, In that ye veil 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, Pierces with joy the trackless realms of light! There, where the gray-tinged hills of mist project, My kingdom's boundaries begin; Yon clouds, that tow'rd the south their course direct, France's far-distant ocean seek to win. Swiftly-flying clouds, hardy sailors through air! Mortal hath roamed with ye, sailed with ye, ne'er! Greetings of love to my youthful home bear! I am a prisoner, I am in chains, Ah, not a herald, save ye, now remains, Free through the 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 skiff from all danger might tear me, And to the dwellings of friends it might bear me. Scarcely his earnings can keep life afloat. Richly with treasures his lap I'd heap over,-- Oh! what a draught should reward him to-day! Fortune held fast in his nets he'd discover, If in his bark he would take me away! Hear'st thou the horn of the hunter resound, Wakening the echo through forest and plain? Ah, on my spirited courser to bound! Once more to join in the mirth-stirring train! Hark! how the dearly-loved tones come again! Blissful, yet sad, the remembrance they wake; Oft have they fallen with joy on mine ear, When in the highlands the bugle rang clear, Rousing the chase over mountain and brake. From The Maid of Orleans, Prologue, scene 4. JOAN OF ARC (soliloquizing). Farewell, ye mountains, and ye pastures dear, Ye still and happy valleys, fare ye well! No longer may Joan's footsteps linger here, Joan bids ye now a long, a last farewell! Ye meadows that I watered, and each bush Set by my hands, ne'er may your verdure fail! Farewell, ye grots, ye springs that cooling gush Thou echo, blissful voice of this sweet vale, So wont to give me back an answering strain,-- Joan must depart, and ne'er return again! Ye haunts of all my silent joys of old, I leave ye now behind forevermore! 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, stained with gore. Thus am I bidden by a spirit's tone 'Tis no vain earthly longing drives me on. For He who erst to Moses on the height Of Horeb, in the fiery bush came down, And bade him stand in haughty Pharaoh's sight, He who made choice of Jesse's pious son, The shepherd, as his champion in the fight,-- He who to shepherds grace hath ever shown, He thus addressed 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 dressed! No mortal love thy heart must e'er allow, With earthly passion's sinful flame possessed. 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 thee high above each earthly maiden. "For when the bravest in the fight despair, When France appears to wait her final blow, Then thou my holy oriflamme must bear; And, as the ripened 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 salvation bring, Deliver Rheims once more, and crown thy king!" The Lord hath promised to send down a sign A helmet he hath sent, it comes from Him,-- His sword endows mine arm with strength divine, I feel the courage of the cherubim; To join the battle-turmoil how I pine! A raging tempest thrills through every limb; The 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 with festoons of flowers; flutes and hautboys are heard behind the scene. JOAN OF ARC (soliloquizing). Each weapon rests, war's tumults cease to sound, While dance and song succeed the bloody fray; Through every street the merry footsteps bound, Altar and church are clad in bright array, And gates of branches green arise around, Over the columns twine the garlands gay; Rheims cannot hold the ever-swelling train That seeks the nation-festival to gain. All with one joyous feeling are elate, One single thought is thrilling every breast; What, until now, was severed by fierce hate, Is by the general rapture truly blessed. By each who called this land his parent-state, The name of Frenchman proudly is confessed; The glory is revived of olden days, And to her regal son France homage pays. Yet I who have achieved this work of pride, I cannot share the rapture felt by all: My heart is changed, my heart is turned aside, It shuns the splendor of this festival; 'Tis in the British camp it seeks to hide,-- 'Tis on the foe my yearning glances fall; And from the joyous circle I must steal, My bosom's crime o'erpowering to conceal. Who? I? What! in my bosom chaste Can mortal's image have a seat? This heart, by heavenly glory graced,-- Dares it with earthly love to beat? The saviour of my country, I,-- The champion of the Lord Most High, Own for my country's foe a flame-- To the chaste sun my guilt proclaim, And not be crushed beneath my shame? (The music behind the scene changes into a soft, melting melody.) Woe! oh woe! what strains enthralling! How bewildering to mine ear Each his voice beloved recalling, Charming up his image dear! Would that battle-tempests bound me! Would that spears were whizzing round me In the hotly-raging strife! Could my courage find fresh life! How those tones, those voices blest Coil around my bosom burning All the strength within my breast Melting into tender yearning, Into tears of sadness turning! (The flutes are again heard--she falls into a silent melancholy.) Gentle crook! oh that I never For the sword had bartered thee! Sacred oak! why didst thou ever From thy branches speak to me? Would that thou to me in splendor, Queen of heaven, hadst ne'er come down! Take--all claim I must surrender,-- Take, oh take away thy crown! Ah, I open saw yon heaven, Saw the features of the blest! Yet to earth my hopes are riven, In the skies they ne'er can rest! Wherefore make me ply with ardor This vocation, terror-fraught? Would this heart were rendered harder. That by heaven to feel was taught! To proclaim Thy might sublime Those select, who, free from crime, In Thy lasting mansions stand; Send Thou forth Thy spirit-band, The immortal, and the pure, Feelingless, from tears secure Never choose a maiden fair, Shepherdess' weak spirit ne'er! Kings' dissensions wherefore dread I, Why the fortune of the fight? Guilelessly my lambs once fed I On the silent mountain-height. Yet Thou into life didst bear me, To the halls where monarchs throne. In the toils of guilt to snare me-- Ah, the choice was not mine own! FOOTNOTES. [62] A pointless satire upon Klopstock and his Messias. [63] Schiller, who is not very particular about the quantities of classical names, gives this word with the o long--which is, of course, the correct quantity--in The Gods of Greece. [64] A well-known general, who died in 1783. [65] See the play of The Robbers. [66] Written in consequence of the ill-treatment Schiller experienced at the hands of the Grand Duke Charles of Wirtemberg. [67] Written in the Suabian dialect. [68] An allusion to the appointment of regimental surgeon, conferred upon Schiller by the Grand Duke Charles in 1780, when he was twenty-one years of age. [69] The Landlord on the Mountain. [70] The year. *** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF SCHILLER — SUPPRESSED POEMS *** Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will be renamed. Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for an eBook, except by following the terms of the trademark license, including paying royalties for use of the Project Gutenberg trademark. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the trademark license is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research. Project Gutenberg eBooks may be modified and printed and given away—you may do practically ANYTHING in the United States with eBooks not protected by U.S. copyright law. Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially commercial redistribution. START: FULL LICENSE THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License available with this file or online at www.gutenberg.org/license. Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works 1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. 1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. See paragraph 1.E below. 1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an individual work is unprotected by copyright law in the United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it without charge with others. 1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status of any work in any country other than the United States. 1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: 1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed: This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook. 1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from texts not protected by U.S. copyright law (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. 1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg™. 1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License. 1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ website (www.gutenberg.org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. 1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. 1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that: • You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” • You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of Project Gutenberg™ works. • You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the work. • You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works. 1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the manager of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. 1.F. 1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread works not protected by U.S. copyright law in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain “Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. 1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE. 1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further opportunities to fix the problem. 1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’, WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. 1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. 1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any Defect you cause. Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™ Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™’s goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org. Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non-profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. The Foundation’s business office is located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the Foundation’s website and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without widespread public support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in machine-readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the IRS. The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate. While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who approach us with offers to donate. International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. Please check the Project Gutenberg web pages for current donation methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate. Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic works Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by copyright in the U.S. unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. Most people start at our website which has the main PG search facility: www.gutenberg.org. This website includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.