Friedrich Schiller

“ Faith from danger can deliver, And I trusted to its breast. Drifted in the whirling motion, Seas themselves around me roll— Wide and wider spreads the ocean, Far and farther flies the goal. While I live is never given Bridge or wave the goal to near— Earth will never meet the heaven, Never can the there be here! THE IDEALS. And wilt thou, faithless one, then, leave me, With all thy magic phantasy,— With all the thoughts that joy or grieve me, Wilt thou with all forever fly? Can naught delay thine onward motion, Thou golden time of life's young dream? ”

“ Yet dread I the decrees of heaven. The envy of the gods I fear; To taste of unmixed rapture here Is never to a mortal given." "With me, too, everything succeeds; In all my sovereign acts and deeds The grace of Heaven is ever by; And yet I had a well-loved heir— I paid my debt to fortune there— God took him hence—I saw him die." "Wouldst thou from sorrow, then, be free. Pray to each unseen Deity, For thy well-being, grief to send; The man on whom the Gods bestow Their gifts with hands that overflow, Comes never to a happy end." ”

“ From a lot which the care and the trouble assail, Could I fly to the bliss of that balm-breathing vale! Through that field, from a fount ever hidden their birth, Four rivers in tumult rush roaringly forth; They fly to the fourfold divisions of earth— The sunrise, the sunset, the south, and the north. And, true to the mystical mother that bore, Forth they rush to their goal, and are lost evermore. High over the races of men in the blue Of the ether, the mount in twin summits is riven; There, veiled in the gold-woven webs of the dew, Moves the dance of the clouds—the pale daughters of heaven! ”

“ Of all that train, so bright with gladness, Oh, who is faithful to the end? Who now will seek to cheer my sadness, And to the grave my steps attend? Thou, Friendship, of all guides the fairest, Who gently healest every wound; Who all life's heavy burdens sharest, Thou, whom I early sought and found! Employment too, thy loving neighbor, Who quells the bosom's rising storms; Who ne'er grows weary of her labor, And ne'er destroys, though slow she forms; Who, though but grains of sand she places To swell eternity sublime, Yet minutes, days, ay! years effaces From the dread reckoning kept by Time! ”

“ And a God there is!—over space, over time, While the human will rocks, like a reed, to and fro, Lives the will of the holy—a purpose sublime, A thought woven over creation below; Changing and shifting the all we inherit, But changeless through all one immutable spirit Hold fast the three words of belief—though about From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee; Yet they take not their birth from the being without— But a voice from within must their oracle be; And never all worth in the man can be o'er, Till in those three words he believes no more. ”

“ For when from Elysium is absent the lyre, No joy can the banquet of nectar inspire. He is blessed by the gods, with an intellect clear, That mirrors the world as it glides; He has seen all that ever has taken place here, And all that the future still hides. He sat in the god's secret councils of old And heard the command for each thing to unfold. He opens in splendor, with gladness and mirth, That life which was hid from our eyes; Adorns as a temple the dwelling of earth, That the Muse has bestowed as his prize, No roof is so humble, no hut is so low, But he with divinities bids it o'erflow. ”

“ Faith is kept in those blest regions yonder With the feelings true that ne'er decay. Venture thou to dream, then, and to wander Noblest thoughts oft lie in childlike play. THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHERN WANDERER. Thou hast crossed over torrents, and swung through wide-spreading ocean,— Over the chain of the Alps dizzily bore thee the bridge, That thou might'st see me from near, and learn to value my beauty, Which the voice of renown spreads through the wandering world. And now before me thou standest,—canst touch my altar so holy,— But art thou nearer to me, or am I nearer to thee? ”

“ Unasked they come delighted to delude The expectation of our baffled pride; No law can call their free steps to our side. Him whom he loves, the sire of men and gods (Selected from the marvelling multitude) Bears on his eagle to his bright abodes; And showers, with partial hand and lavish, down, The minstrel's laurel or the monarch's crown! Before the fortune-favored son of earth, Apollo walks—and, with his jocund mirth, The heart-enthralling smiler of the skies For him gray Neptune smooths the pliant wave— Harmless the waters for the ship that bore The Caesar and his fortunes to the shore! ”

“ A fish it is, and parts the ocean, That bore a greater monster ne'er; An elephant it is, whose rider On his broad back a tower has put: 'Tis like the reptile base, the spider, Whenever it extends its foot; And when, with iron tooth projecting, It seeks its own life-blood to drain, On footing firm, itself erecting, It braves the raging hurricane. THE VIRTUE OF WOMAN. Man of virtue has need;-into life with boldness he plunges, Entering with fortune more sure into the hazardous strife; But to woman one virtue suffices; it is ever shining Lovingly forth to the heart; so let it shine to the eye! ”

“ Thou, Roman-like, gained'st That with the steel, which with gold, Tyrian-like, then thou didst rule! THE SOWER. Sure of the spring that warms them into birth, The golden seeds thou trustest to the earth; And dost thou doubt the eternal spring sublime, For deeds—the seeds which wisdom sows in time. THE KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN. Oh, nobly shone the fearful cross upon your mail afar, When Rhodes and Acre hailed your might, O lions of the war! When leading many a pilgrim horde, through wastes of Syrian gloom; Or standing with the cherub's sword before the holy tomb. ”

“ It gleams, yet kindles near to flame, It sucks in even all the earth. Within its bright and wondrous ring Is pictured forth the glow of heaven, And yet it mirrors back each thing Far fairer than to it 'twas given. VII. For ages an edifice here has been found, It is not a dwelling, it is not a Pane; A horseman for hundreds of days may ride round, Yet the end of his journey he ne'er can attain. Full many a century o'er it has passed, The might of the storm and of time it defies! Neath the rainbow of Heaven stands free to the last,— In the ocean it dips, and soars up to the skies. ”

“ Now clasped the bell within the clay— The mould the mingled metals fill— Oh, may it, sparkling into day, Reward the labor and the skill! Alas! should it fail, For the mould may be frail— And still with our hope must be mingled the fear— And, ev'n now, while we speak, the mishap may be near! To the dark womb of sacred earth This labor of our hands is given, As seeds that wait the second birth, And turn to blessings watched by heaven! Ah, seeds, how dearer far than they, We bury in the dismal tomb, Where hope and sorrow bend to pray That suns beyond the realm of day May warm them into bloom! ”

“ Mortals, rest ye, and love ye,— Phoebus, the loving one, rests! THE PILGRIM. Youth's gay springtime scarcely knowing Went I forth the world to roam— And the dance of youth, the glowing, Left I in my father's home, Of my birthright, glad-believing, Of my world-gear took I none, Careless as an infant, cleaving To my pilgrim staff alone. For I placed my mighty hope in Dim and holy words of faith, "Wander forth—the way is open, Ever on the upward path— Till thou gain the golden portal, Till its gates unclose to thee. There the earthly and the mortal, Deathless and divine shall be!" ”

“ Naught but the eagle Hangs in the lone realms of air, knitting the world to the clouds. Not one zephyr on soaring pinion conveys to my hearing Echoes, however remote, marking man's pleasures and pains. Am I in truth, then, alone? Within thine arms, on thy bosom, Nature, I lie once again!—Ah, and 'twas only a dream That assailed me with horrors so fearful; with life's dreaded phantom, And with the down-rushing vale, vanished the gloomy one too. Purer my life I receive again from thine altar unsullied,— Purer receive the bright glow felt by my youth's hopeful days. ”

“ THE MORAL POET. Man is in truth a poor creature,—I know it,—and fain would forget it; Therefore (how sorry I am!) came I, alas, unto thee! THE DANAIDES. Into the sieve we've been pouring for years,— o'er the stone we've been brooding; But the stone never warms,—nor does the sieve ever fill. THE SUBLIME SUBJECT. 'Tis thy Muse's delight to sing God's pity to mortals; But, that they pitiful are,—is it a matter for song? THE ARTIFICE. Wouldst thou give pleasure at once to the children of earth and the righteous? Draw the image of lust—adding the devil as well! ”

“ Calm in the changeless paths above Rolls on the day-god's golden car— Fast are the fixed decrees of Jove! Far from the ever-gloomy plain, He turns his blissful looks away. Alas! night never gives again What once it seizes as its prey! Till over Lethe's sullen swell, Aurora's rosy hues shall glow; And arching through the midmost hell Shine forth the lovely Iris-bow! And is there naught of her; no token— No pledge from that beloved hand? To tell how love remains unbroken, How far soever be the land? Has love no link, no lightest thread, The mother to the child to bind? ”

“ Ne'er as friend the swift one know, Nor the constant one as foe! II. Threefold is the form of space: Length, with ever restless motion, Seeks eternity's wide ocean; Breadth with boundless sway extends; Depth to unknown realms descends. All as types to thee are given; Thou must onward strive for heaven, Never still or weary be Would'st thou perfect glory see; Far must thy researches go. Wouldst thou learn the world to know; Thou must tempt the dark abyss Wouldst thou prove what Being is. Naught but firmness gains the prize,— Naught but fulness makes us wise,— Buried deep, truth ever lies! ”

“ They can only tinge the foliage, But they ripen ne'er the fruit. Yet the north insists on living, And what lives will merry be; So, although the grape is wanting, We invent wine cleverly. Pale the drink we now are offering On the household altar here; But what living Nature maketh, Sparkling is and ever clear. Let us from the brimming goblet, Drain the troubled flood with mirth; Art is but a gift of heaven, Borrowed from the glow of earth. Even strength's dominions boundless 'Neath her rule obedient lie; From the old the new she fashions With creative energy. ”

“ And with thoughts of bitter anguish My too-feeling heart is rent." "Joyously my friends are playing, All around are blest and glad, In the paths of pleasure straying,— My poor heart alone is sad. Spring in vain unfolds each treasure, Filling all the earth with bliss; Who in life can e'er take pleasure, When is seen its dark abyss?" "With her heart in vision burning, Truly blest is Polyxene, As a bride to clasp him yearning. Him, the noblest, best Hellene! And her breast with rapture swelling, All its bliss can scarcely know; E'en the Gods in heavenly dwelling Envying not, when dreaming so." ”

“ THE PLAYING INFANT. Play on thy mother's bosom, babe, for in that holy isle The error cannot find thee yet, the grieving, nor the guile; Held in thy mother's arms above life's dark and troubled wave, Thou lookest with thy fearless smile upon the floating grave. Play, loveliest innocence!—Thee yet Arcadia circles round, A charmed power for thee has set the lists of fairy ground; Each gleesome impulse Nature now can sanction and befriend, Nor to that willing heart as yet the duty and the end. Play, for the haggard labor soon will come to seize its prey. ”

“ Life we have alone in error, Knowledge with it death must bring. Take away this prescience tearful, Take this sight of woe from me; Of thy truths, alas! how fearful 'Tis the mouthpiece frail to be!" "Veil my mind once more in slumbers Let me heedlessly rejoice; Never have I sung glad numbers Since I've been thy chosen voice. Knowledge of the future giving, Thou hast stolen the present day, Stolen the moment's joyous living,— Take thy false gift, then, away!" "Ne'er with bridal train around me, Have I wreathed my radiant brow, Since to serve thy fane I bound me— Bound me with a solemn vow. ”

“ With wand like that the gods bestow, He guides the heaving bosom's chords, He steeps it in the realms below, He bears it, wondering, heavenward, And rocks it, 'twixt the grave and gay, On feeling's scales that trembling sway. As when before the startled eyes Of some glad throng, mysteriously, With giant-step, in spirit-guise, Appears a wondrous deity, Then bows each greatness of the earth Before the stranger heaven-born, Mute are the thoughtless sounds of mirth, While from each face the mask is torn, And from the truth's triumphant might Each work of falsehood takes to flight. ”

“ And those sweetly-blooming flowers Ne'er become cold winter's prey. In you endless sunshine bright, Oh! what bliss 'twould be to dwell! How the breeze on yonder height Must the heart with rapture swell! Yet the stream that hems my path Checks me with its angry frown, While its waves, in rising wrath, Weigh my weary spirit down. See—a bark is drawing near, But, alas, the pilot fails! Enter boldly—wherefore fear? Inspiration fills its sails, Faith and courage make thine own,— Gods ne'er lend a helping-hand; 'Tis by magic power alone Thou canst reach the magic land! ”

“ No! falsehood dwells with them that say That falsehood dwells with thee! Ah! faithless is the race of man, And harsh a father's heart can prove; But thee, the gentle and the mild, The grief of love can move!" "Within these hated walls of stone, Should I, repining, mourn alone, And fade in ceaseless care, But thou, though o'er thy giant tide, Nor bridge may span, nor boat may glide, Dost safe my lover bear. And darksome is thy solemn deep, And fearful is thy roaring wave; But wave and deep are won by love— Thou smilest on the brave!" ”

“ No boat will leave the sheltering strand, To bear him to the wished-for land; No boatman will Death's pilot be; The wild stream gathers to a sea! Sunk by the banks, awhile he weeps, Then raised his arms to Jove, and cried, "Stay thou, oh stay the maddening tide; Midway behold the swift sun sweeps, And, ere he sinks adown the deeps, If I should fail, his beams will see My friend's last anguish—slain for me!" More fierce it runs, more broad it flows, And wave on wave succeeds and dies And hour on hour remorseless flies; Despair at last to daring grows— Amidst the flood his form he throws ”