Schiller's Homage of the arts, with miscellaneous pieces from Rückert, Freiligrath, and other German poets
PT \\60 *feP\* ^ %sb:A*>s ^ %^|P* ^ F * * * » A > Q X * 0 * 0^' < V ■ % - <Ss v± ov -Oiv „ •< « o - SCHILLER'S » HOMAGE OF THE ARTS, WITH MISCELLANEOUS PIECES FROM RUCKERT, FREILIGRATH. AND OTHER GERMAN POETS. BY CHARLES TV BROOKS. JAMES BOSTON MUNROE AND M DCCC XLVII. COMPANY. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1346, by James Munroe and Company, the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusett J*, 3 X CAMBRIDGE : METCALF AND COMPANY, PRINTERS TO i'H£< UNIVERSITY. PREFACE. The author of this little melange published, a few years ago, a larger collection, devoted princi- pally to specimens of departed and classic German poets ; and it was his first idea, in preparing this volume, to represent, in a corresponding way, the living poets of the same language. But not having the means of such access as would have been desir- able to the German poets of the day, nor the leisure to use his materials, if he had had them, — and re- flecting, too, how hard it is for a right sensibility to put asunder the living who promise not to die, and the dead who yet live and will live awhile longer, — the translator, leaving the task of representing fairly and fully the poets of young Germany, such as Heine, Herwegh, and others, in the hope that some one, if not himself, may one day undertake it, has concluded to content himself, for the present, by IV PREFACE. offering his friends and the public a small selection, consisting partly of pieces which came to him in the original too late for his former volume, and associat- ing the names and effusions of living men indiscrim- inately with those of " German Poesy's immortal dead." The Germans, however, would hardly call their Schiller a dead poet ; Korner is a live poet, if not a living one ; and Eiickert and Uhland, though not yet canonized, — seri in ccdum redeant ! — form a noble link between the days of Schiller and Korner and the generation of Herwegh and Freiligrath. It is hoped that some of the pieces in this volume, particularly of those from Ruckert and Freiligrath, will be familiar to the readers of the Dial and the Diadem, the Child's Friend and the Christian Exam- iner. Those pieces looked so well in the maga- zines, that the translator flattered himself they would do to print in a 44 beuk." He closes with the wish that this little book may prove light enough for a winter holiday, and weighty enough to last through the next summer. Newport, Dec. 5th, 1846. CONTENTS. SCHILLER. PAGE THE HOMAGE OF  BOYHOOD'S PRIME . . . .25 THE  OUTWITTED . 52 VI CONTENTS. MARSHAL FORWARD THE FATAL RIVERS. the battle of leipsic. Alexander's power FREILIGR ATH. THE LION'S RIDE THE MOORISH PRINCE THE AWAKENER IN THE WILDERNESS THE EMIGRANTS NAPOLEON IN BIVOUAC THE GREEK GIRL AT THE FAIR THE SKATING NEGRO THE STEPPES BURNS's FAREWELL TO HIS NATIVE LAND UHLAND. THE WHITE STAG LUCKLESS NIGHT JOURNEY peasant's RULE. HERWEGH. TO THE KING OF PRUSSIA TO A CENSOR CONTENTS. vn LIEBER. to jean paul ..... 106 sonnet on milton .... 108 louis  .123 AFTER AN OLD SONG .... 127 THE CROWN AND  138 THE SABBATH ..... 141 VI 11 CONTENTS. SCHULZE. SONG OF THE LITTLE EIRDS .... 144 WULFLER. ETERNITY ..... 146 ANONYMOUS. GERMAN WATCHMAN'S SONG .... 147 THE CARD-HOUSE .... 150 SCHILLER. THE HOMAGE OF THE ARTS. A LYRIC DRAMA. [This piece was first brought out in the Court Theatre of Weimar, Nov. 12, 1804, in compliment to Maria Paulowna, the Russian princess, when she came, a bride, to Weimar, as future Grand Duchess.] DRAMATIS PERSONS. Father. Mother. Youth. Maiden. Choir of Peasants. Genius. The Seven Arts. 1 2 SCHILLER. Scene, a rural, open country ; in the centre an orange-tree laden with fruit and decorated with ribbons. Peasants are just in the act of setting it out, while maidens and children hold it steady on both sides, with chains of flowers, FATHER. Prosper, prosper, glorious tree, Crowned with golden fruits and flowers ! Child of softer, sunnier bowers," In these natal fields of ours, Here, henceforth, thy home shall be. Full of sweetest fruit, as now, Ever green thy branches bow ! ALL THE PEASANTS. Prosper, prosper, glorious tree, Towering heavenward, fair and free ! youth. With the scented blossom blending, May the golden fruitage glow ! Through the storms of time unbending, Let it bide while ages flow ! all. hrough the storms of time unbending, Let it bide while ages flow ! HOMAGE OF THE ARTS. MOTHER. Holy Earth ! this tender stranger, — Take him to thy warm embrace ! Lord of yonder sunny pastures, Guide of necked flocks, heaven-ranger, Cheer him with thy smiling face ! MAIDEN. Sister Dryads, gently rear him ! Shield him, shield him, Father Pan ! And, ye Oreads, freely roaming, That no blasting wind come near him, Hold each mountain-storm in ban ! ALL. Sister Dryads, kindly rear him ! Shield him, shield him, Father Pan ! YOUTH. Ether's glowing smile befriend thee, Ever clear and ever blue ! Sun his kindling radiance lend thee ! Lend him, Earth, thy quickening dew ALL. Sun, thy cheering radiance lend him ! Lend him, Earth, thy quickening dew 4 SCHILLER. FATHER. Joy, in thee, and life from heaven, Be to every wanderer given ! For 't was Joy that planted thee. May thy nectar-gifts, partaken By the latest grandson, waken Blessings on the quickening tree ! ALL. Joy, in thee, new life from heaven, Be to every pilgrim given ! For 't was Joy that planted thee. [They dance in a motley row around the tree. The music of the or- chestra accompanies them, gradually passing over into a grander style, while, in the background, Genius is seen descending with the Seven Goddesses. The peasants withdraw to either side of the stage, while Genius steps into the centre ; the three plastic Arts placing them- selves at his right hand, and the four rhetorical and musical ones on his left.] CHORUS OF THE ARTS- We come from far ages, We come from far climes ; We roam through all nations, Pass down through all times ; We roam the wide world round in quest of a home. For a home of our own On some tranquil shore, HOMAGE OF THE ARTS. 5 Where, each on her throne, We may sit evermore, Creating in stillness, And working in fulness, — Still seeking, ne'er finding, for ever we roam. YOUTH. Lo, what godlike group advances ! Never in the dreams of night Saw I such transcendent sight ! Wondrously my soul it trances. GENIUS, Where armor doth rattle, With iron clang, 'Mid din of the battle, Where hatred's fang Strikes its victim with venomous wound, Where passion's delusions the heart confound, Where mortals in error do endlessly stray, With fleet-winged footsteps there bend we our way. CHORUS OF THE ARTS. We hate false blasphemers, The Gods who contemn ; 6 SCHILLER. The sons of uprightness, — We seek after them ; Where manners are childlike, And friendly hearts yearn, There build we our mansions, And there we sojourn ! MAIDEN. What thrills through my bosom ? What sends me such bliss ? As drawn by dark cords, how my heart leaps to meet them ! As fond and familiar loved faces I greet them, Yet I know I have never beheld them ere this ! ALL THE PEASANTS. What thrills through my bosom ? Whence cometh such bliss ? GENIUS. Hush ! Look yonder ! Men are dancing, And their looks bespeak them blessed ; Rich with wreaths and ribbons glancing, Festally the tree is dressed. Are not these of joy the traces ? What goes on here, children ? — say ! HOMAGE OF THE ARTS. FATHER. Shepherds are we in these places, Festal rites we keep to-day. GENIUS. And what rites ? O, straightway tell us MOTHER. Rites in honor of our queen, Who, from royal halls descending, Graciously her footsteps bending Hitherward, is come to bless us, To our peaceful valley lending Presence all sublime, serene. YOUTH. Her, whom every Grace attending, Smiles, like sunlight, from her mien. GENIUS. Wherefore plant ye now this tree ? YOUTH. Ah ! from distant climes she 's come, And her heart is thither yearning, Evermore, in dream, returning ; s SCHILLER. But we would not gladly let her, — Fancy's foot we fain would fetter, Till she owns her second home. GENIUS. Therefore, then, to-day ye come, Men and maidens, gathering round, And so deeply in the ground Plant, with all its roots, this tree, That the lofty one may be In this land henceforth at home ? MAIDEN. Ah ! so many a tender band Draws her to her childhood's land ! All she left with streaming tears, — Paradise of early years, And the holy lap of mother, And each manly-hearted brother, And a sister's tender breast, — Can we give her back these pleasures ? Hath wide Nature, in her store, Price to buy such joys, such treasures ? GENIUS. Love, too, for the distant yeameth ; Love no chains of place confine. HOMAGE OF THE ARTS. As the flame, unwasted, burnetii, Though another and another, Kindled at its fountain, shine, — All that there was sweet possessing, Unimpaired doth still remain ; Hath she left there Love's choice blessing, Here she finds that love again. MOTHER. Ah ! she comes from halls of marble, From the golden halls of pride. Will not that high heart beat lonely, Where the golden sun laughs only, O'er free meadows, far and wide ? GENIUS. Shepherds, not to you is given Skill to read a noble heart ! Know ye, an exalted spirit Cannot from its world inherit Greatness, for itself can only Greatness to its world impart. YOUTH. O lovely strangers, teach us how to bind her O, teach us how to use affection's arts ! 10 SCHILLER. Fain would we many a fragrant garland wind her, And lead her to our homes and hearths and hearts ! GENIUS. A lovely heart soon finds its home around it ; It makes a world, in silence, of its own : And as the tree, far from its native zone, Grasps with strong root the soil its lot hath found it, So twines true nobleness, with noble strife Of manly actions, round this earthly life. Love knits her tender bonds with speedy hand, The spot we bless, — there is our native land. ALL THE PEASANTS. O lovely stranger ! tell us how to bind her To our still haunts, who leaves such scenes behind her ! GENIUS. The tender bond is found, — 't is close at hand ; Not all is strange to her in this new land : Me and my train no strangers she will own, When we to her our names and works make known. [Upon this Genius steps forward to the proscenium ; the Seven Goddesses do the same, so as to form a semicircle. At the moment when they advance, they discover their emblems, which they have hitherto kept concealed under their dresses.] HOMAGE OF THE AETS. II GENIUS [turning toward the Princess]. Beauty's creative Genius stands before thee, Attended by the Arts, a sister-band. 'T is we who crown all human works with glory, — Palace and altar own our voice and hand. We dwelt long since with thy imperial name, And she, the lofty one who gave thee birth, Herself the holy sacrificial flame Tends with pure hand on her domestic hearth. She bade us follow thee with this our greeting, — Our smile alone earth's proudest bliss completing. ARCHITECTURE [with a mural crown on her head, and a golden ship in her hand]. Enthroned by Neva's banks, I graced thy home ; Thy world-renowned ancestor called me forth ; At his behest I built a second Rome, The imperial seat and mistress of the North. A paradise of stateliness, astounding, Arose beneath my magic wand, one day ; And now life's gay and busy din is sounding Where yesterday but gloomy fog-banks lay ; Her bristling naval armaments gigantic Drive back old Belt* to his sea-palace, frantic. * Belt is the name, properly, of two straits in the Baltic 12 SCHILLER. SCULPTURE [with a Victory in her hand]. Me, too, with wonder, hast thou seen full oft, Grave sculptress of the gods who held the world of old. Placed by me on a rock that towers aloft, His great heroic statue men behold ; [Showing the image of Victory.] And this Victoria, made by me for man, Thy lofty brother waves with mighty arm ; It loves to fly in Alexander's van, Held to his banner by resistless charm ; — I only mould the clay to lifeless grace, He of a savage horde creates a gentle race. PAINTING. Nor me wilt thou, exalted one, mistake, The bright creatress of deceptive forms. Life's glowing hues beneath my pencil wake, And all the inspired canvass beams and warms. I know to cheat the senses, — ay, the heart Can sweetly, through the sight, delude awhile ; (Skagerack and Cattegat) ; the translator would, however, have rendered it Baltic, had not the antic terminations for- bidden. HOMAGE OF THE ARTS. 13 And, copying each loved trait with cunning art, The bitter pangs of absence oft beguile. Whom North and South, by sea and mountain, sever, They both have me, — and part no more for ever. POESY. No place can hold, — no chain my feet confine ; Freely I soar beyond the firmament. The illimitable realm of thought is mine, The inspired word my winged instrument. And all that lives and moves in earth and sky, And all that Nature doth in secret night, Must stand unveiled, unsealed, before my eye ; For naught can hem the free poetic flight ; Yet nothing lovelier can I choose or find, Than a fair soul in a fair form enshrined. MUSIC [with the Lyre]. The power of sound, from the swept strings up- welling, — Thou know'st it well, thou wield 'st it mightily. All yearnings dim, in the deep bosom swelling, Find utterance free and full alone in me ; A fond enchantment round each sense doth play, When I pour forth my streams of harmony ; 14 SCHILLER. In sweetest woe the heart would melt away, And from the lips the soul were fain to flee ; And when my scale of tones I rear on high, I bear thee up to Beauty's loftiest sky. DANCE [with the Cymbal]. The thoughts of God in solemn stillness rest ; In thoughtful stillness is his spirit found. Life beats tumultuous in the human breast, And in youth's pulse the bounding hours dance round. Wild Joy with Beauty's rein I guide and tame, Who loves the delicate bounds to overleap ; I clothe with zephyr's wing the heavy frame ; I bid the dance an even measure keep. My wand doth Nature's every movement trace ; 'T is I bestow the lovely gift of grace. DRAMA [with a double mask]. A Janus-face my name and work discovers ; On this side joy it shows, on that side, woe. Humanity 'twixt smiles and tears aye hovers. Earnest and jest are mated here below. With all its depths, with all its heights serene, I life's great map before thy view unroll. HOMAGE OF THE ARTS. 15 When thou hast once the world's great drama seen, Thou comest back more rich to thine own soul ; For whoso thus surveys the whole finds rest, And ends the vexing strife within his breast. genius. And now we all who here appear before thee, Of high and holy arts the sacred choir, O Princess, wait thy pleasure, seek thy glory. Speak thou the word, and, as at sound of lyre The walls of Thebes arose, in ancient story, The insensate stone shall live when thou dost call, A world of beauty shall unfold before thee. ARCHITECTURE. Column with column into line shall fall. SCULPTURE. The marble melt beneath the hammer's blow. PAINTING. Fresh life, warm-breathing, on the canvass glow. MUSIC. The stream of harmonies resound to thee. DANCE. The airy dance glide gayly round to thee. 16 SCHILLER. DRAMA. Life on this stage unfold its wide dominion. POESY. And bright-eyed Fancy, on her mighty pinion, To heavenly fields enchant thee far away ! painting. And like as Iris with the solar ray Builds up her glorious spectrum in the sky, Even so will we, with fair and friendly strife, The mystic Seven of Beauty pure and high, Weave, glorious one, the carpet of thy life. ALL THE ARTS [clasping hands]. For all the powers, with fair and friendly strife, Must join to weave the web of manly life. FROM THE HUNDRED QUATRAINS. 49 XLII. The mighty world, — wouldst view it, And know what its forms do mean, Then must thou go into it To see, and not to be seen. XLIII. Do what all men, if they knew it, Could not choose but praise ; Then let no one know you do it ; Double price it pays. LI. The children of wisdom are they Who, bound to the kingdom of truth, make error a a stage by the way. But they who in error's tavern put up and make themselves jolly, They are the children of folly. LVI. Truth is the easiest part of all to play. Act thyself, — appear What thou art, — and no fear That thou ever canst miss thy way, 50 RUCKERT. LXXVI. A father one day was teaching his son No monarch had a right to his throne. The son learned well in his father's school, And knocked the old gentleman off his stool. LXXVII. In every stone, in every clod, Lies hid an image of man or god ; But whoso would bring it to daylight, he Must either a carver or sculptor be. xci. The rich man spares his foot ; The poor man spares his shoe, Because he needs must buy it, And has no money to. xcv. Easter morning breaks triumphant, Christ is risen ! See, my soul, how all creation wakes from death ! Burst the chains of slumber, — forth from death's dark prison, — Leave thy sepulchre like him of Nazareth ! FROM THE HUNDRED QUATRAINS* 51 XCVI. Weary, worry not thyself in vain I If the fruit thou seekest hangs too high, Wait, and all the riper, by and by, In thy lap 't will fall ; — let it remain. xcvn, " How find'st thou thy calling so hard a one, When others take it so easily ? " To teach me I myself had none, And so can no one's teacher be. e. There 's many a little book that reads right nice The reader never cares to see again ; But whatsoe'er is not worth reading twice Was not worth reading once, I do maintain. 52 THE BITER BIT, OR THE DEVIL OUTWITTED. The Arabs had ploughed, but not planted, their field, When the Devil, like Jehu, came galloping by, And said, — " Half the earth me its produce must yield; Remember it, rogues, when your harvest draws nigh." The Arabs are foxes. They said, — " Be it so ; The upper half ours and the lower half thine." But the Devil will always be uppermost : — " No ! The lower half yours, and the upper half mine." So they planted them turnips and beets everywhere, And then, when the time of the harvest drew on, The Devil came puffing to gather his share, — The tops were all there, but the roots were all gone. THE BITER BIT. 53 And when it came round to the spring of the year, Then out spake the Devil, in a furious heat, — " I go for the lower half this time, that 's clear." So the Arabs, they planted them corn and wheat. And when it became again time to divide, The Arabs began the ripe ears to fell ; The Devil he took the dry stubble, and cried, — 66 'T will kindle my fires below there right well." 54 MARSHAL FORWARD. — By what name, thou gallant Prussian, Say, wilt thou thy Bliicher call ? Close thy classic books ; the Russian Gives him the best name of all. There 's no name in classic story Can speak his peculiar glory ; Marshal Forward ! Marshal Forward ! Marshal Forward beats them all ! Over forest, flood, and mountain, Forward march ! was still the word ; From the Oder's farthest fountain To the Elbe-stream flashed his sword. MARSHAL FORWARD. Now upon the Rhine we find him, — Now he leaves the Rhone behind him, — Marshal Forward ! Marshal Forward ! Forward ! Forward ! That 's the word ! Ha ! French marshals, wherefore quake ye, Wherefore hang your heads for shame, And behind your walls betake you, When ye hear our Bliicher's name ? Marshal Backward, — that 's the coward ! Call the brave man Marshal Forward ! Marshal Forward ! Marshal Forward ! Suits alone the Blucher's fame. 56 THE FATAL EIVEES. [Rossbach means Horse-brook, and Katzbach, Cat-brook.'] From this time forth and for ever, Look out for each beast-named river, — Frenchmen, look ! By the Rossbach, — by the Rossbach, — We shot you on horseback. When from off your horses Rolled the heavy corses, Down the blood rolled, In a real brook. From this time forth and for ever, Look out for each beast- named river, — Frenchmen, look ! By the Katzbach, — by the Katzbach, — Stood the hair up on the cat's back ; THE FATAL RIVERS. 'T was there we pared the claws away From the cat's paws one day, — No more scratching, — No more catching, — Every blow took. 58 THE BATTLE OF LEIPSIC. 't- is there no song Can crash with might, Loud and long As crashed the Leipsic fight. Three days, — day and night, — Smoke and stroke, And no joke, Slashed and crashed and smashed the Leipsic fight. THE BATTLE OF LEIPSIC. 59 Three days, — day and night, — Lasted the Leipsic fair ; With iron yard-sticks we measured* ye there, We charged you heavily, quite. Three days, — day and night, — Lasted at Leipsic the hunt of the lark ; We caught them at daylight, we caught them at dark, — A hundred we caught at a single gate, A thousand at a flight. * When the troops of Charles the Fifth and Pope Clement arrived in sight of Florence they are said to have cried, — " Get ready, O Florence, thy golden brocades ! we come to buy them by the measure of our pikes." — Tr. 60 ALEXANDER'S POWER. When Alexander died, he gave command They from his coffin should let hang his hand, That all men who had seen him formerly, Exulting in the pomp of royalty, Might now see that, with empty hands, alone, He, too, the universal road had gone, And that, of all his treasures, nothing save That empty hand went with him to the grave. FREILIGRATH. THE LION'S RIDE. [The translator has seen two other versions of the follow- ing piece, neither in the exact measure of the original, which is here given.] King of deserts reigns the lion ; will he through his realm go riding, Down to the lagoon he paces, in the tall sedge there lies hiding. Where gazelles and camelopards drink, he crouches by the shore ; Ominous, above the monster, moans the quivering sycamore. 62 FREILIGRATH. When, at dusk, the ruddy hearth-fires in the Hotten- tot kraals are glowing, And the motley, changeful signals on the Table Moun- tain growing Dim and distant, — when the Caffre sweeps along the lone karroo, — When in the bush the antelope slumbers, and beside the stream the gnu, — Lo ! majestically stalking, yonder comes the tall gi- raffe, Hot with thirst, the gloomy waters of the dull lagoon to quaff ; O'er the naked waste behold her, with parched tongue, all panting hasten, — Now she sucks the cool draught, kneeling, from the stagnant, slimy basin. Hark ! a rustling in the sedges ! with a roar, the lion1' springs On her back now. What a race-horse ! Say, in proud- est stalls of kings, Saw one ever richer housings than the courser's mot- ley hide, On whose back the tawny monarch of the beasts to- night will ride ? THE LION'S RIDE. 63 Fixed his teeth are in the muscles of the nape, with greedy strain; Round the giant courser's withers waves the rider's yellow mane. With a hollow cry of anguish, leaps and flies the tortured steed ; See her, how with skin of leopard she combines the camel's speed ! See, with lightly beating footsteps, how she scours the moonlit plains! From their sockets start the eyeballs ; from the torn and bleeding veins, Fast the thick, black drops come trickling o'er the brown and dappled neck, And the flying beast's heart-beatings audible the still- ness make. Like the cloud, that, guiding Israel through the land of Yemen, shone, Like a spirit of the desert, like a phantom, pale and wan, O'er the desert's sandy ocean, like a waterspout at sea, Whirls a yellow, cloudy column, tracking them where - e'er they flee. 64 FREILIGRATH. On their track the vulture follows, flapping, croaking, through the air, And the terrible hyena, plunderer of tombs, is there ; Follows them the stealthy panther,— Cape-town's folds have known him well ; Them their monarch's dreadful pathway, blood and sweat full plainly tell. On his living throne, they, quaking, see their ruler sitting there, With sharp claw the painted cushion of his seat they see him tear. Restless the giraffe must bear him on, till strength and life-blood fail her ; Mastered by. such daring rider, rearing, plunging, naught avail her. To the desert's verge she staggers, — sinks, — one groan, — and all is o'er. Now the steed shall feast the rider, dead, and smear- ed with dust and gore. Far across, o'er Madagascar, faintly now the morn- ing breaks ; — Thus the king of beasts his journey nightly through his empire makes. 17 THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR. — Down in a vale, among poor swains, With each young year's returning green, When sang the larks their earliest strains, A fair and wondrous maid was seen. That vale was not her native place, And whence she came could no one tell ; For soon was lost her every trace, When once the maiden took farewell. A blessing came where she drew nigh,. And widely opened every heart; Yet from her pure and lofty eye Presumptuous footsteps stood apart. 2 IS SCHILLER. She brought with her both fruits and flowers, Matured in other, sunnier fields, Where Nature, in her southern bowers, A glow of milder radiance yields. To each she gave his heart's desire, — Gave flowers to these, and fruits to those ; The bounding youth, the bending sire, Each with his present homeward goes. A welcome waited every guest ; But when drew near a loving pair, Them gave she of her gifts the best, — Of all her flowers, the fairest there. RUCKERT.* A GAZELLE. [This is a class of poems which seems to be quite a favorite with Ruckert. They are named Gazelles, probably in refer- ence to their movement, which imitates the peculiar bounding of that animal.] O cradle of the rising sun, O holy Sea ! O grave of every setting sun, O holy Sea ! O thou in balmy nights outspreading the crystal mirror Where Luna looks, — a silent nun, — O holy Sea ! O thou in silent midnights chiming, through thy wide realm, With starry choirs, — sweet unison, — O holy Sea ! * This prolific, yet no less thoughtful than graceful, poet still lives, as Oriental Professor, at Berlin.] 20 RTJCKEILT. The morning's and the evening's red bloom out from thee, Two roses of thy garden-bed, O holy Sea ! O Amphitrite's panting bosom, whose heaving waves Now swell, now sink, beneath the moon, O holy Sea! O Aphrodite's womb maternal ! bring forth thy child, And borrow splendor from thy son, O holy Sea ! Sprinkle the earth's green wreath of spring with pearly dew, For thine the pearls are, every one, O holy Sea ! The Naiads of the meadows all, that sprang from thee, Come back as Nereids at thy call, O holy Sea ! The ships of thought sail over thee and sink in thee ; Atlantis rests there, mighty one, O holy Sea ! The beaker of the gods, that fell from high Olympus, Hangs on the coral-twigs,* far down, O holy Sea ! A diver in the sea of love is Freimund's song, Would show how rich his chosen one, O holy Sea ! My spirit yearneth like the moon to sink in thee ; Forth send me from thee like the sun, 0 holy Sea ! * Like the cup in Schiller's " Diver." — Tr. 21 A GAZELLE. [The translator must presume that the proper names in this piece are familiar to the readers of Persian literature.] Up, rise up, 't is day, O youthful Mussulman ! Pack thy goods and forth to join the caravan. Hark, O, hark ! e'en now they 're moving, while thou sleepest ; Hark ! the bell's low tinkling warns thee, from the van ! When the desert-drifts have swept away their sand- wake, Hope not that thy footsteps ever track them can. Rouse thee up ! O, waste not life in fond delusions ! Be a soldier, — be a hero, — be a man ! 22 RUCKERT. Of thy noble blood bethink thee, youthful Persian, Like Rostem, — like Saal, — join thou the hero's clan.* Man of light, of right, the sunlight's champion ! Yield not up thy soul to gloomy Ahriman ! When thou hast in fight thy earthy soul downtrodden, Life's victorious banner shall the heavenly fan. When thy low lips touch the dust upon the threshold, Thou shalt be the seal-ring in our sheik's divan ! * Rostem (or Rustam, as Moore calls him in his Lalla Rookh) is the Persian Hercules. Saal (or Sal) is his asso- ciate in fame ; Rttckert calls him a Pehlewan. What this means the translator has not succeeded in finding out. 23 A GAZELLE. Creation now in slumber lies, — O, watch in me ! Sleep waits to snare my weary eyes, — O, watch in me ! Thou Eye, that in the heavens watchest, with starry glance, When close in sleep my weary eyes, O, watch in me ! Thou Light, through ether beaming higher than sun and moon, When sun and moon forsake the skies, O, watch in me ! When on this outer world is closing the door of sense, Sink not my soul in dread surprise, — O, watch in me ! O, suffer not the power of darkness, the gloom of night, To quench the light of inner skies ! — O, watch in me ! RUCKERT. O, let not, in the night's warm breathings, in balmy- shade, The shoots of sinful passion rise ! — O, watch in me ! Fresh with the dew of Eden's branches, let in my dream The fruit of life hang from the skies ! — O, watch in me ! Show me in dream my warfare ended, my heart's wish won ; Let this bright vision bless my eyes ! — O, watch in me ! I '11 slumber in thy lap till wakes me the morning-red Upon thy cheeks, — till darkness flies, — O, watch in me ! 25 FROM MY BOYHOOD'S PRIME. From my boyhood's prime, — from my boyhood's prime, — One strain still rings in my ear. O, how far lies the time, — O, how far lies the time, Was once so near ! What the swallow sang, — what the swallow sang, When she came bringing harvest and spring, Till the village rang, — till the village rang, — Does that still ring ? " When I last took wing, — when I last took wing, — Bin and barn stood loaded there ; When I came in spring, — when I came in spring, — I found all bare." 26 RUCKERT. O thou childhood's word ! — O thou childhood's word !— Glad wisdom's unconscious spring, Skilled in speech of bird, — skilled in speech of bird, — As the wise king ! O ye fields of home ! — O ye fields of home ! — By the hallowed shade and stream Might I once more roam, — might I once more roam, — On wings of dream ! When I went, ah ! then, — when I went, ah ! then The world was so full and fair ; When I came again, — when I came again, — I found all bare. Comes the swallow back, — comes the swallow back, — The chests that were empty run o'er ; But the heart, alack ! — but the heart, alack ! Grows full no more. There 's no swallow brings, — there 's no swallow brings Back to thee what thy tears deplore ; Yet the swallow sings, — yet the swallow sings Just as of yore : — FROM MY BOYHOOD'S PRIME. " When I last took wing, — when I last took wing Bin and barn stood loaded there ; When I came in spring, — when I came in spring I found all bare." 28 THE STRANGER-CHILD'S HOLY CHRIST. 'T is Christmas eve, — full plain, — A strange child runs about Through street, and square, and lane, To see the lights gleam out From every window-pane. Behold him stop and stare At every house ; he sees The bright rooms, how they glare, And all the lamp-full trees, — Sad is he everywhere. The poor child weeps : — " To-night Each little girl and boy Their little tree and light Can see and can enjoy, — All, — all but me, — poor wight ! THE STRANGER-CHILD'S HOLY CHRIST. " Brothers and sisters, we Once frolicked, hand in hand, Around one sparkling tree ; But here, in this strange land, No one remembers me. " Now all the doors they close Against the cold and me ; In all these goodly rows Of houses, can there be No spot for my repose ? " Will no one ope to me ? Naught will I touch or take ; I '11 only look and see The pretty Christmas cake, — - The sight my feast shall be." He knocks at gate and door, On shutter and on pane ; Within they laugh the more ; The poor child knocks in vain, His little joints grow sore. r RlicKETlT. Each father, full of joy, His children eyes with pride ; The mother hands the toy, She thinks of naught beside ; None heeds the stranger-boy. " Dear holy Christ ! save thee, No father and no mother Have I on earth ; — O, be My Saviour and my brother, For none remembers me ! " Numbed with the biting blast, He rubs his little hands, Hugs himself tight and fast, And in the by-lane stands, His eyes to Heaven upcast. Lo ! with a little light, Comes plodding up the street, All dressed in spotless white, Another child ; — how sweet His accents pierce .the night ! THE STRANGER-CHILD'S HOLY CHRIST. " I am the holy child Jesus, and once, like thee, I roamed through cold and wild ; Poor wanderer, come to me, For I am meek and mild ! " I will not scorn thy prayer ; The poor I love to bless, And grant my tender care Here in the street no less Than in the parlour there. " And now I '11 let thee see, Here in the open air, Thou stranger-child, thy tree, — And none so bright and fair In all the rooms can be." Then pointed with his hand Child Jesus to the sky ; — A mighty tree did stand, Crowded with stars, so high, Its boughs the wide heaven spanned. RUCKERT. How far, and yet how near, The sparkling torches seem ! Poor child ! it did appear Like to a fairy dream, All was so calm and clear. There, — in the shining sky, — There stood his Christmas-tree And little angels nigh Reached down so lovingly, And drew him up on high. And homeward now he goes, The little stranger-child, With Jesus to repose, — The Saviour meek and mild, - And soon forgets his woes. 33 THE CAMEL-DRIVER. A PARABLE. A pilgrim led, o'er Syrian sand, A camel by the halter-band. The animal, with startled eye, Grew suddenly so fierce and shy, And snorted so, for very dread His leader dropped the rein and fled. He ran, till, in a sheltered nook Beside the way, he spied a brook ; Half crazed, he hears the beast behind Madly snuff up the burning wind. He crept into the fountain's nook, — Plunged not, — but still hung o'er the brook ; When, lo ! a bramble came to view, That from the fountain's waters grew. RUCKERT. Thereto the man did straightway cling, Close crouching, coldly shuddering. When he looked up, he saw with dread Peer down that frightful camel's head, That still more near and frightful grew ; And when below he bent his view, Down in the fountain's depths he saw A dragon, with extended jaw, That lay there waiting for his blood, When he should drop into the flood ; For, lo ! thus trembling 'twixt the two, A third woe met the wretch's view. Where in the cavern's crevice clung The bush's root on which he hung, He saw of mice a busy pair, One black, one white, close nibbling there. He saw the black one and the white Alternately the root did bite. They gnawed, they tugged, with snout and foot They raked the earth from round the root ; And as the mould, down-rattling, fell, The dragon looked up from the well, To see how soon the bush would fall Into the water, load and all. THE CAMEL-DRIVER. The man, in terror and despair, Beset, besieged, beleaguered there, In vain from this most dread suspense Sought and besought deliverance. But as he strains his eager eyes, Nodding above his head he spies A twig with blackberries thick-hung, — Part of the vine to which he clung. No more he saw the camel's head So hideous, nor the dragon dread, Nor yet the mice's knavery, When once the berries met his eye. The beast o'erhead might snort and blow, The dragon lurk and gloat below, And at his side the mice might gnaw, — The blackberries were all he saw. They pleased his eyes,— he thought them sweet Berry on berry did he eat ; So great the pleasure while he ate, It made him all his fear forget. Ask'st thou what foolish man is he Forgets such fear so easily ? Know then, O friend, that man art thou ; For thou shalt hear the moral now. RUCKERT. The dragon down beneath the wave Is Death's wide-gaping maw, — the grave. The camel threatening overhead Is Life's distress, and doubt, and dread. ^Twixt Life and Death aye hovering, Thou dost to Earth's frail thorn-bush cling. The two that gnaw incessantly The root that bears the twigs and thee, To bring thee down to Death's dark might, — ■ The mice's names — are Day and Night. The black one gnaws, concealed from sight, From eventide till morning light ; From morning light till eventide, The white one gnaws the root beside. Yet, in this wild and weary waste, The berry, Pleasure, tempts thy taste« Till — - the huge camel, Life's distress. The dragon, Death, in the abyss, The busy nibblers, Day and Night, Forgotten in thy strange delight — Of death's dark flood thou dost not think, But of the berries on its brink. 37 THE WANDERING JEW. [Riiekert's title of this piece is " Chidher."] The wandering Jew once said to me, I passed through a city in the cool of the year ; A man in the garden plucked fruit from a tree. I asked, " How long has the city been here ?" And he answered me, and he plucked away, — u It has always stood where it stands to-day, And here it will stand for ever and aye." Five hundred years rolled by, and then I travelled the selfsame road again. No trace of a city there I found ; A shepherd sat blowing his pipe alone, His flock went quietly nibbling round. I asked, " How long has the city been gone ? ' 38 RUCKERT. And he answered me, and he piped away, — - " The new ones bloom and the old decay, This is my pasture-ground for aye." Five hundred years rolled by, and then I travelled the selfsame road again. And I came to a sea, and the waves did roar, And a fisherman threw his net out clear, And when, heavy-laden, he dragged it ashore, I asked, " How long has the sea been here ? " And he laughed, and he said, and he laughed away, — " As long as yon billows have tossed their spray They 've fished and they 've fished in this selfsame bay." Five hundred years rolled by, and then I travelled the selfsame road again. And I came to a forest, vast and free, And a woodman stood in the thicket near, — His axe he had laid at the foot of a tree. I asked, " How long have the woods been here ? " And he answered, " These woods are a covert for aye ; My ancestors dwelt here alway, And the trees have been here since creation's day." Five hundred years rolled by, and then I travelled the selfsame road again. THE WANDERING JEW. And I found there a city, and far and near Resounded the hum of toil and glee, And I asked, " How long has the city been here, And where is the pipe, and the wood, and the sea And they answered me, as they went their way, - " Things always have stood as they stand to-day, And so they will stand for ever and aye." I '11 wait five hundred years, and then I '11 travel the selfsame road again, 40 THE TREE OF LIFE. — ♦ — When Father Adam lay at his last groan, He sent to Paradise his faithful son, A twig to fetch him from the Tree of Life, Whereby he hoped recovery might be won. Seth plucked the twig and brought it home ; but, lo Our father's ghost, with his last breath, had flown. Then planted they the twig on Adam's grave, And so from son to son 't was handed down. It grew, when in the pit young Joseph lay, — When Egypt's task- masters made Israel groan. That tree put forth its blossoms fragrantly, When David, harping, sat upon his throne. Dry was the tree, when, in his wisdom, erred From the Lord's way the sage King Solomon ; Yet every generation hoped to see Its life renewed in David's greater son. THE TREE OF LIFE. 41 Faith saw that day in spirit, when she sat In sorrow by the floods of Babylon ; And when the eternal lightning flashed from heaven, Then burst the tree with high, exultant tone. God's grace had chose its withered stock to be The passion-wood to stretch his Christ upon. The blind world hewed its timber to a cross, And slew, with scorn, its own dear hope thereon. Then did the tree of life bear bloody fruit, That whoso tasted, life should be his own. O Freimund,* look ! despite the storms of time, How high and broad the tree of life hath grown ! Its shadow falls e'en now on half the world ; When shiiir the whole ita grateftrt fAefcee own ? * Rtickert's fancy-name for himself, as rhymer ; literally, " Free-mouth." 42 THE SUMMONS. Is it the brass-mouthed clarion screaming so, To rouse the warrior from his tented bed ? Is it the solemn trump God's angels blow, Whose clang unbolts the tomb and wakes the dead ? O, no ! it is the early cock, whose crow Shakes the gold mists of slumber from my head, And, like the battle-trump, — the judgment-morning, — Of a new day, whose night is hid, gives warning. Herald of light ! admonisher, whose call Shook the frail heart that dared deny its Lord ! So, to this day, when leaden slumbers fall On souls whose sensual passions choke the word, THE SUMMONS. 43 'T is thy bold, faithful voice that lifts the pall Of self-oblivion, thou shrill-throated bird ! Startling the guilty soul, and rousing all Spirits of life, that with a shudder, scorning Dark self-deceit, expect the eternal morning. Dash down yon dizzying cup of earthly lust, Filled with the brown and poisonous juice of sleep, And go thou forth, and, armed with better trust Than thine own strength, climb duty's rugged steep. Fear not ! — high Heaven's right arm protects the just ; — Faint not ! — whate'er thou sowest thou shalt reap. Warrior of God, I heed the solemn warning, And a glad day succeeds the dreariest morning. 44 THE FOUR WAYS. — ♦ — Before the Sultan's throne appears The Mewlana, with lowly brow. " Thy wisdom's fame hath reached mine ears, Then answer me one question now. Four several sects, well knowest thou, My faithful Mussulmans divide ; Without delay, then, tell me now With which doth Allah's favor side ? By which of these four pathways, say, Shall dust attain to Allah's throne ? In doubt I 've waited till to-day ; Now let the certainty be known." Thus spake the Sultan, and was dumb. The Mewlana gazed silently A moment round the audience-room, And then he said, with bended knee : — THE FOUR WAYS. " Thou in whose smile thy faithful race The light of Heaven reflected see, Protect me with thy shield of grace, Then shall my answer be to thee : Thou sitt'st enthroned here in a hall, To which four doors thy slaves admit, And all thy splendor beams on all, By whichsoever they enter it. That I did not mistake the way, Thy messenger the praise must claim, And, dazzled by the bright array, I know not now which way I came," 46 FROM THE "HUNDRED QUATRAINS." FIRST HUNDRED. I. A lover, who in confidence Lets other people know it, 111 edifies his audience, Or else he is a poet. ii. Reason, rebelling, armed 'gainst Love, one day, And " Wisdom " on his banner blazed o'erhead. Love sent a breath to make the attack, they say, When Reason, trembling, spiked his guns and fled. VIII. See, the rose-bed of creation Never of its flowers is bare ; Fades one red-cheeked generation, Lo ! another crop is there. FROM THE HUNDRED QUATRAINS. L7 XV. 