The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 492

And, when the figure was complete, A pair of dogs I chose me, fleet, Of mighty strength, of nimble pace, Inured the savage boar to chase; The dragon, then, I made them bait, Inflaming them to fury dread, With their sharp teeth to seize it straight, And with my voice their motions led."

"And, where the belly's tender skin Allowed the tooth to enter in, I taught them how to seize it there, And, with their fangs, the part to tear.

I mounted, then, my Arab steed, The offspring of a n.o.ble breed; My hand a dart on high held forth, And, when I had inflamed his wrath, I stuck my sharp spurs in his side, And urged him on as quick as thought, And hurled my dart in circles wide As if to pierce the beast I sought."

"And though my steed reared high in pain, And champed and foamed beneath the rein, And though the dogs howled fearfully, Till they were calmed ne'er rested I.

This plan I ceaselessly pursued, Till thrice the moon had been renewed; And when they had been duly taught, In swift s.h.i.+ps here I had them brought; And since my foot these sh.o.r.es has pressed Flown has three mornings' narrow span; I scarce allowed my limbs to rest Ere I the mighty task began."

"For hotly was my bosom stirred When of the land's fresh grief I heard; Shepherds of late had been his prey, When in the marsh they went astray.

I formed my plans then hastily,-- My heart was all that counselled me.

My squires instructing to proceed, I sprang upon my well-trained steed, And, followed by my n.o.ble pair Of dogs, by secret pathways rode, Where not an eye could witness bear, To find the monster's fell abode."

"Thou, lord, must know the chapel well, Pitched on a rocky pinnacle, That overlooks the distant isle; A daring mind 'twas raised the pile.

Though humble, mean, and small it shows Its walls a miracle enclose,-- The Virgin and her infant Son, Vowed by the three kings of Cologne.

By three times thirty steps is led The pilgrim to the giddy height; Yet, when he gains it with bold tread, He's quickened by his Saviour's sight."

"Deep in the rock to which it clings, A cavern dark its arms outflings, Moist with the neighboring moorland's dew, Where heaven's bright rays can ne'er pierce through.

There dwelt the monster, there he lay, His spoil awaiting, night and day; Like the h.e.l.l-dragon, thus he kept Watch near the shrine, and never slept; And if a hapless pilgrim chanced To enter on that fatal way, From out his ambush quick advanced The foe, and seized him as his prey."

"I mounted now the rocky height; Ere I commenced the fearful fight, There knelt I to the infant Lord, And pardon for my sins implored.

Then in the holy fane I placed My s.h.i.+ning armor round my waist, My right hand grasped my javelin, The fight then went I to begin; Instructions gave my squires among, Commanding them to tarry there; Then on my steed I nimbly sprung, And gave my spirit to G.o.d's care."

"Soon as I reached the level plain, My dogs found out the scent amain; My frightened horse soon reared on high,-- His fear I could not pacify, For, coiled up in a circle, lo!

There lay the fierce and hideous foe, Sunning himself upon the ground.

Straight at him rushed each nimble hound; Yet thence they turned, dismayed and fast, When he his gaping jaws op'd wide, Vomited forth his poisonous blast, And like the howling jackal cried."

"But soon their courage I restored; They seized with rage the foe abhorred, While I against the beast's loins threw My spear with st.u.r.dy arm and true: But, powerless as a bulrush frail, It bounded from his coat of mail; And ere I could repeat the throw, My horse reeled wildly to and fro Before his basilisk-like look, And at his poison-teeming breath,-- Sprang backward, and with terror shook, While I seemed doomed to certain death."

"Then from my steed I nimbly sprung, My sharp-edged sword with vigor swung; Yet all in vain my strokes I plied,-- I could not pierce his rock-like hide.

His tail with fury las.h.i.+ng round, Sudden he bore me to the ground.

His jaws then opening fearfully, With angry teeth he struck at me; But now my dogs, with wrath new-born, Rushed on his belly with fierce bite, So that, by dreadful anguish torn, He howling stood before my sight."

"And ere he from their teeth was free, I raised myself up hastily, The weak place of the foe explored, And in his entrails plunged my sword, Sinking it even to the hilt; Black gus.h.i.+ng forth, his blood was spilt.

Down sank he, burying in his fall Me with his body's giant ball, So that my senses quickly fled; And when I woke with strength renewed, The dragon in his blood lay dead, While round me grouped my squires all stood."

The joyous shouts, so long suppressed, Now burst from every hearer's breast, Soon as the knight these words had spoken; And ten times 'gainst the high vault broken, The sound of mingled voices rang, Re-echoing back with hollow clang.

The Order's sons demand, in haste, That with a crown his brow be graced, And gratefully in triumph now The mob the youth would bear along When, lo! the master knit his brow, And called for silence 'mongst the throng.

And said, "The dragon that this land Laid waste, thou slew'st with daring hand; Although the people's idol thou, The Order's foe I deem thee now.

Thy breast has to a fiend more base Than e'en this dragon given place.

The serpent that the heart most stings, And hatred and destruction brings, That spirit is, which stubborn lies, And impiously cast off the rein, Despising order's sacred ties; 'Tis that destroys the world amain."

"The Mameluke makes of courage boast, Obedience decks the Christian most; For where our great and blessed Lord As a mere servant walked abroad, The fathers, on that holy ground, This famous Order chose to found, That arduous duty to fulfil To overcome one's own self-will!

'Twas idle glory moved thee there: So take thee hence from out my sight!

For who the Lord's yoke cannot bear, To wear his cross can have no right."

A furious shout now raise the crowd, The place is filled with outcries loud; The brethren all for pardon cry; The youth in silence droops his eye-- Mutely his garment from him throws, Kisses the master's hand, and--goes.

But he pursues him with his gaze, Recalls him lovingly, and says: "Let me embrace thee now, my son!

The harder fight is gained by thee.

Take, then, this cross--the guerdon won By self-subdued humility."

FEMALE JUDGMENT.

Man frames his judgment on reason; but woman on love founds her verdict; If her judgment loves not, woman already has judged.

FRIDOLIN; OR, THE WALK TO THE IRON FOUNDRY.

A gentle was Fridolin, And he his mistress dear, Savern's fair Countess, honored in All truth and G.o.dly fear.

She was so meek, and, ah! so good!

Yet each wish of her wayward mood, He would have studied to fulfil, To please his G.o.d, with earnest will.

From the first hour when daylight shone Till rang the vesper-chime, He lived but for her will alone, And deemed e'en that scarce time.

And if she said, "Less anxious be!"

His eye then glistened tearfully.

Thinking that he in duty failed, And so before no toil he quailed.

And so, before her serving train, The Countess loved to raise him; While her fair mouth, in endless strain, Was ever wont to praise him.

She never held him as her slave, Her heart a child's rights to him gave; Her clear eye hung in fond delight Upon his well-formed features bright.

Soon in the huntsman Robert's breast Was poisonous anger fired; His black soul, long by l.u.s.t possessed, With malice was inspired; He sought the Count, whom, quick in deed, A traitor might with ease mislead, As once from hunting home they rode, And in his heart suspicion sowed.

"Happy art thou, great Count, in truth,"

Thus cunningly he spoke; "For ne'er mistrust's envenomed tooth Thy golden slumbers broke; A n.o.ble wife thy love rewards, And modesty her person guards.

The tempter will be able ne'er Her true fidelity to snare."

A gloomy scowl the Count's eye filled: "What's this thou say'st to me?

Shall I on woman's virtue build, Inconstant as the sea?

The flatterer's mouth with ease may lure; My trust is placed on ground more sure.

No one, methinks, dare ever burn To tempt the wife of Count Savern."

The other spoke: "Thou sayest it well, The fool deserves thy scorn Who ventures on such thoughts to dwell, A mere retainer born,-- Who to the lady he obeys Fears not his wishes' l.u.s.t to raise."-- "What!" tremblingly the Count began, "Dost speak, then, of a living man?"--

"Is, then, the thing, to all revealed, Hid from my master's view?

Yet, since with care from thee concealed, I'd fain conceal it too"-- "Speak quickly, villain! speak or die!"

Exclaimed the other fearfully.

"Who dares to look on Cunigond?"

"'Tis the fair page that is so fond."

"He's not ill-shaped in form, I wot,"

He craftily went on; The Count meanwhile felt cold and hot, By turns in every bone.

"Is't possible thou seest not, sir, How he has eyes for none but her?

At table ne'er attends to thee, But sighs behind her ceaselessly?"

"Behold the rhymes that from him came His pa.s.sion to confess"-- "Confess!"--"And for an answering flame,-- The impious knave!--to press.