The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 468

Hark the guns, peal on peal, how they boom in their thunder!

From host to host, with kindling sound, The shouting signal circles round, Ay, shout it forth to life or death-- Freer already breathes the breath!

The war is waging, slaughter raging, And heavy through the reeking pall, The iron death-dice fall!

Nearer they close--foes upon foes "Ready!"--From square to square it goes, Down on the knee they sank, And fire comes sharp from the foremost rank.

Many a man to the earth it sent, Many a gap by the b.a.l.l.s is rent-- O'er the corpse before springs the hinder man, That the line may not fail to the fearless van, To the right, to the left, and around and around, Death whirls in its dance on the b.l.o.o.d.y ground.

G.o.d's sunlight is quenched in the fiery fight, Over the hosts falls a brooding night!

Brothers, G.o.d grant when this life is o'er In the life to come that we meet once more!

The dead men lie bathed in the weltering blood And the living are blent in the slippery flood, And the feet, as they reeling and sliding go, Stumble still on the corpses that sleep below.

"What, Francis!" "Give Charlotte my last farewell."

As the dying man murmurs, the thunders swell-- "I'll give--Oh G.o.d! are their guns so near?

Ho! comrades!--yon volley!--look sharp to the rear!-- I'll give thy Charlotte thy last farewell, Sleep soft! where death thickest descendeth in rain, The friend thou forsakest thy side shall regain!"

Hitherward--thitherward reels the fight, Dark and more darkly day glooms into night-- Brothers, G.o.d grant when this life is o'er In the life to come that we meet once more!

Hark to the hoofs that galloping go!

The adjutant flying,-- The hors.e.m.e.n press hard on the panting foe, Their thunder booms in dying-- Victory!

The terror has seized on the dastards all, And their colors fall!

Victory!

Closed is the brunt of the glorious fight And the day, like a conqueror, bursts on the night, Trumpet and fife swelling choral along, The triumph already sweeps marching in song.

Farewell, fallen brothers, though this life be o'er, There's another, in which we shall meet you once more!

ROUSSEAU.

Monument of our own age's shame, On thy country casting endless blame, Rousseau's grave, how dear thou art to me Calm repose be to thy ashes blest!

In thy life thou vainly sought'st for rest, But at length 'twas here obtained by thee!

When will ancient wounds be covered o'er?

Wise men died in heathen days of yore; Now 'tis lighter--yet they die again.

Socrates was killed by sophists vile, Rousseau meets his death through Christians' wile,-- Rousseau--who would fain make Christians men!

FRIENDs.h.i.+P.

[From "Letters of Julius to Raphael," an unpublished Novel.]

Friend!--the Great Ruler, easily content, Needs not the laws it has laborious been The task of small professors to invent; A single wheel impels the whole machine Matter and spirit;--yea, that simple law, Pervading nature, which our Newton saw.

This taught the spheres, slaves to one golden rein, Their radiant labyrinths to weave around Creation's mighty hearts: this made the chain, Which into interwoven systems bound All spirits streaming to the spiritual sun As brooks that ever into ocean run!

Did not the same strong mainspring urge and guide Our hearts to meet in love's eternal bond?

Linked to thine arm, O Raphael, by thy side Might I aspire to reach to souls beyond Our earth, and bid the bright ambition go To that perfection which the angels know!

Happy, O happy--I have found thee--I Have out of millions found thee, and embraced; Thou, out of millions, mine!--Let earth and sky Return to darkness, and the antique waste-- To chaos shocked, let warring atoms be, Still shall each heart unto the other flee!

Do I not find within thy radiant eyes Fairer reflections of all joys most fair?

In thee I marvel at myself--the dyes Of lovely earth seem lovelier painted there, And in the bright looks of the friend is given A heavenlier mirror even of the heaven!

Sadness casts off its load, and gayly goes From the intolerant storm to rest awhile, In love's true heart, sure haven of repose; Does not pain's veriest transports learn to smile From that bright eloquence affection gave To friendly looks?--there, finds not pain a grave?

In all creation did I stand alone, Still to the rocks my dreams a soul should find, Mine arms should wreathe themselves around the stone, My griefs should feel a listener in the wind; My joy--its echo in the caves should be!

Fool, if ye will--Fool, for sweet sympathy!

We are dead groups of matter when we hate; But when we love we are as G.o.ds!--Unto The gentle fetters yearning, through each state And shade of being multiform, and through All countless spirits (save of all the sire)-- Moves, breathes, and blends, the one divine desire.

Lo! arm in arm, through every upward grade, From the rude mongrel to the starry Greek, Who the fine link between the mortal made, And heaven's last seraph--everywhere we seek Union and bond--till in one sea sublime Of love be merged all measure and all time!

Friendless ruled G.o.d His solitary sky; He felt the want, and therefore souls were made, The blessed mirrors of his bliss!--His eye No equal in His loftiest works surveyed; And from the source whence souls are quickened, He Called His companion forth--ETERNITY!

ELYSIUM.

Past the despairing wail-- And the bright banquets of the Elysian vale Melt every care away!

Delight, that breathes and moves forever, Glides through sweet fields like some sweet river!

Elysian life survey!

There, fresh with youth, o'er jocund meads, His merry west-winds blithely leads The ever-blooming May!

Through gold-woven dreams goes the dance of the hours, In s.p.a.ce without bounds swell the soul and its powers, And truth, with no veil, gives her face to the day.

And joy to-day and joy to-morrow, But wafts the airy soul aloft; The very name is lost to sorrow, And pain is rapture tuned more exquisitely soft.

Here the pilgrim reposes the world-weary limb, And forgets in the shadow, cool-breathing and dim, The load he shall bear never more; Here the mower, his sickle at rest, by the streams, Lulled with harp-strings, reviews, in the calm of his dreams, The fields, when the harvest is o'er.

Here, he, whose ears drank in the battle roar, Whose banners streamed upon the startled wind A thunder-storm,--before whose thunder tread The mountains trembled,--in soft sleep reclined, By the sweet brook that o'er its pebbly bed In silver plays, and murmurs to the sh.o.r.e, Hears the stern clangor of wild spears no more!

Here the true spouse the lost-beloved regains, And on the enamelled couch of summer-plains Mingles sweet kisses with the zephyr's breath.

Here, crowned at last, love never knows decay, Living through ages its one bridal day, Safe from the stroke of death!

THE FUGITIVE.

The air is perfumed with the morning's fresh breeze, From the bush peer the sunbeams all purple and bright, While they gleam through the clefts of the dark-waving trees, And the cloud-crested mountains are golden with light.

With joyful, melodious, ravis.h.i.+ng, strain, The lark, as he wakens, salutes the glad sun, Who glows in the arms of Aurora again, And blissfully smiling, his race 'gins to run.

All hail, light of day!

Thy sweet gus.h.i.+ng ray Pours down its soft warmth over pasture and field; With hues silver-tinged The meadows are fringed, And numberless suns in the dewdrop revealed.

Young Nature invades The whispering shades, Displaying each ravis.h.i.+ng charm; The soft zephyr blows, And kisses the rose, The plain is sweet-scented with balm.

How high from yon city the smoke-clouds ascend!

Their neighing, and snorting, and bellowing blend The horses and cattle; The chariot-wheels rattle, As down to the valley they take their mad way; And even the forest where life seems to move, The eagle, and falcon, and hawk soar above, And flutter their pinions, in heaven's bright ray.

In search of repose From my heart-rending woes, Oh, where shall my sad spirit flee?

The earth's smiling face, With its sweet youthful grace, A tomb must, alas, be for me!