The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 489

"Ye solemn powers men shrink to name, Your might is here, your rights ye claim-- Yet think not I repine Soon closed my course; yet I can bless The life that brought me happiness-- The fairest lot was mine!

Living have I thy temple served, Thy consecrated priestess been-- My last glad offering now receive Venus, thou mightiest queen!"

Flashed the white robe along the air, And from the tower that beetled there She sprang into the wave; Roused from his throne beneath the waste, Those holy forms the G.o.d embraced-- A G.o.d himself their grave!

Pleased with his prey, he glides along-- More blithe the murmured music seems, A gush from unexhausted urns His everlasting streams!

Ca.s.sANDRA.

Mirth the halls of Troy was filling, Ere its lofty ramparts fell; From the golden lute so thrilling Hymns of joy were heard to swell.

From the sad and tearful slaughter All had laid their arms aside, For Pelides Priam's daughter Claimed then as his own fair bride.

Laurel branches with them bearing, Troop on troop in bright array To the temples were repairing, Owning Thymbrius' sovereign sway.

Through the streets, with frantic measure, Danced the baccha.n.a.l mad round, And, amid the radiant pleasure, Only one sad breast was found.

Joyless in the midst of gladness, None to heed her, none to love, Roamed Ca.s.sandra, plunged in sadness, To Apollo's laurel grove.

To its dark and deep recesses Swift the sorrowing priestess hied, And from off her flowing tresses Tore the sacred band, and cried:

"All around with joy is beaming, Ev'ry heart is happy now, And my sire is fondly dreaming, Wreathed with flowers my sister's brow I alone am doomed to wailing, That sweet vision flies from me; In my mind, these walls a.s.sailing, Fierce destruction I can see."

"Though a torch I see all-glowing, Yet 'tis not in Hymen's hand; Smoke across the skies is blowing, Yet 'tis from no votive brand.

Yonder see I feasts entrancing, But in my prophetic soul, Hear I now the G.o.d advancing, Who will steep in tears the bowl!"

"And they blame my lamentation, And they laugh my grief to scorn; To the haunts of desolation I must bear my woes forlorn.

All who happy are, now shun me, And my tears with laughter see; Heavy lies thy hand upon me, Cruel Pythian deity!"

"Thy divine decrees foretelling, Wherefore hast thou thrown me here, Where the ever-blind are dwelling, With a mind, alas, too clear?

Wherefore hast thou power thus given, What must needs occur to know?

Wrought must be the will of Heaven-- Onward come the hour of woe!"

"When impending fate strikes terror, Why remove the covering?

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.

Evermore in grief I languish-- All my youth in tears was spent; 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 n.o.blest, best h.e.l.lene!

And her breast with rapture swelling, All its bliss can scarcely know; E'en the G.o.ds in heavenly dwelling Envying not, when dreaming so."

"He to whom my heart is plighted Stood before my ravished eye, And his look, by pa.s.sion lighted, Toward me turned imploringly.

With the loved one, oh, how gladly Homeward would I take my flight But a Stygian shadow sadly Steps between us every night."

"Cruel Proserpine is sending All her spectres pale to me; Ever on my steps attending Those dread shadowy forms I see.

Though I seek, in mirth and laughter Refuge from that ghastly train, Still I see them hastening after,-- Ne'er shall I know joy again."

"And I see the death-steel glancing, And the eye of murder glare; On, with hasty strides advancing, Terror haunts me everywhere.

Vain I seek alleviation;-- Knowing, seeing, suffering all, I must wait the consummation, In a foreign land must fall."

While her solemn words are ringing, Hark! a dull and wailing tone From the temple's gate upspringing,-- Dead lies Thetis' mighty son!

Eris shakes her snake-locks hated, Swiftly flies each deity, And o'er Ilion's walls ill-fated Thunder-clouds loom heavily!

THE HOSTAGE.

A BALLAD.

The tyrant Dionys to seek, Stern Moerus with his poniard crept; The watchful guard upon him swept; The grim king marked his changeless cheek: "What wouldst thou with thy poniard? Speak!"

"The city from the tyrant free!"

"The death-cross shall thy guerdon be."

"I am prepared for death, nor pray,"

Replied that haughty man, "I to live; Enough, if thou one grace wilt give For three brief suns the death delay To wed my sister--leagues away; I boast one friend whose life for mine, If I should fail the cross, is thine."

The tyrant mused,--and smiled,--and said With gloomy craft, "So let it be; Three days I will vouchsafe to thee.

But mark--if, when the time be sped, Thou fail'st--thy surety dies instead.

His life shall buy thine own release; Thy guilt atoned, my wrath shall cease."

He sought his friend--"The king's decree Ordains my life the cross upon Shall pay the deed I would have done; Yet grants three days' delay to me, My sister's marriage-rites to see; If thou, the hostage, wilt remain Till I--set free--return again!"

His friend embraced--No word he said, But silent to the tyrant strode-- The other went upon his road.

Ere the third sun in heaven was red, The rite was o'er, the sister wed; And back, with anxious heart unquailing, He hastes to hold the pledge unfailing.

Down the great rains unending bore, Down from the hills the torrents rushed, In one broad stream the brooklets gushed.

The wanderer halts beside the sh.o.r.e, The bridge was swept the tides before-- The shattered arches o'er and under Went the tumultuous waves in thunder.

Dismayed he takes his idle stand-- Dismayed, he strays and shouts around; His voice awakes no answering sound.

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; With vigorous arms the roaring waves Cleaves--and a G.o.d that pities, saves.

He wins the bank--he scours the strand, He thanks the G.o.d in breathless prayer; When from the forest's gloomy lair, With ragged club in ruthless hand, And breathing murder--rushed the band That find, in woods, their savage den, And savage prey in wandering men.

"What," cried he, pale with generous fear; "What think to gain ye by the strife?

All I bear with me is my life-- I take it to the king!"--and here He s.n.a.t.c.hed the club from him most near: And thrice he smote, and thrice his blows Dealt death--before him fly the foes!