The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 501

GERMAN FAITH. [50]

Once for the sceptre of Germany, fought with Bavarian Louis Frederick, of Hapsburg descent, both being called to the throne.

But the envious fortune of war delivered the Austrian Into the hands of the foe, who overcame him in fight.

With the throne he purchased his freedom, pledging his honor For the victor to draw 'gainst his own people his sword; But what he vowed when in chains, when free he could not accomplish, So, of his own free accord, put on his fetters again.

Deeply moved, his foe embraced him,--and from thenceforward As a friend with a friend, pledged they the cup at the feast; Arm-in-arm, the princes on one couch slumbered together.

While a still bloodier hate severed the nations apart.

'Gainst the army of Frederick Louis now went, and behind him Left the foe he had fought, over Bavaria to watch.

"Ay, it is true! 'Tis really true! I have it in writing!"

Thus did the Pontifex cry, when he first heard of the news.

THE s.e.xES.

See in the babe two loveliest flowers united--yet in truth, While in the bud they seem the same--the virgin and the youth!

But loosened is the gentle bond, no longer side by side-- From holy shame the fiery strength will soon itself divide.

Permit the youth to sport, and still the wild desire to chase, For, but when sated, weary strength returns to seek the grace.

Yet in the bud, the double flowers the future strife begin, How precious all--yet naught can still the longing heart within.

In ripening charms the virgin bloom to woman shape hath grown, But round the ripening charms the pride hath clasped its guardian zone; Shy, as before the hunter's horn the doe all trembling moves, She flies from man as from a foe, and hates before she loves!

From lowering brows this struggling world the fearless youth observes, And hardened for the strife betimes, he strains the willing nerves; Far to the armed throng and to the race prepared to start, Inviting glory calls him forth, and grasps the troubled heart:-- Protect thy work, O Nature now! one from the other flies, Till thou unitest each at last that for the other sighs.

There art thou, mighty one! where'er the discord darkest frown, Thou call'st the meek harmonious peace, the G.o.d-like soother down.

The noisy chase is lulled asleep, day's clamor dies afar, And through the sweet and veiled air in beauty comes the star.

Soft-sighing through the crisped reeds, the brooklet glides along, And every wood the nightingale melodious fills with song.

O virgin! now what instinct heaves thy bosom with the sigh?

O youth! and wherefore steals the tear into thy dreaming eye?

Alas! they seek in vain within the charm around bestowed, The tender fruit is ripened now, and bows to earth its load.

And restless goes the youth to feed his heart upon its fire, All, where the gentle breath to cool the flame of young desire!

And now they meet--the holy love that leads them lights their eyes, And still behind the winged G.o.d the winged victory flies.

O heavenly love!--'tis thy sweet task the human flowers to bind, For ay apart, and yet by thee forever intertwined!

LOVE AND DESIRE.

Rightly said, Schlosser! Man loves what he has; what he has not, desireth; None but the wealthy minds love; poor minds desire alone.

THE BARDS OF OLDEN TIME.

Say, where is now that glorious race, where now are the singers Who, with the accents of life, listening nations enthralled, Sung down from heaven the G.o.ds, and sung mankind up to heaven, And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of song?

Ah! the singers still live; the actions only are wanting, And to awake the glad harp, only a welcoming ear.

Happy bards of a happy world! Your life-teeming accents Flew round from mouth unto mouth, gladdening every race.

With the devotion with which the G.o.ds were received, each one welcomed That which the genius for him, plastic and breathing, then formed.

With the glow of the song were inflamed the listener's senses, And with the listener's sense, nourished the singer the glow-- Nourished and cleansed it,--fortunate one! for whom in the voices Of the people still clear echoed the soul of the song, And to whom from without appeared, in life, the great G.o.dhead, Whom the bard of these days scarcely can feel in his breast.

JOVE TO HERCULES.

'Twas not my nectar made thy strength divine, But 'twas thy strength which made my nectar thine!

THE ANTIQUES AT PARIS.

That which Grecian art created, Let the Frank, with joy elated, Bear to Seine's triumphant strand, And in his museums glorious Show the trophies all-victorious To his wondering fatherland.

They to him are silent ever, Into life's fresh circle never From their pedestals come down.

He alone e'er holds the Muses Through whose breast their power diffuses,-- To the Vandal they're but stone!

THEKLA.

A SPIRIT VOICE.

Whither was it that my spirit wended When from thee my fleeting shadow moved?

Is not now each earthly conflict ended?

Say,--have I not lived,--have I not loved?

Art thou for the nightingales inquiring Who entranced thee in the early year With their melody so joy-inspiring?

Only whilst they loved they lingered here.

Is the lost one lost to me forever?

Trust me, with him joyfully I stray There, where naught united souls can sever, And where every tear is wiped away.

And thou, too, wilt find us in yon heaven, When thy love with our love can compare; There my father dwells, his sins forgiven,-- Murder foul can never reach him there.

And he feels that him no vision cheated When he gazed upon the stars on high; For as each one metes, to him 'tis meted; Who believes it, hath the Holy nigh.

Faith is kept in those blest regions yonder With the feelings true that ne'er decay.

Venture thou to dream, then, and to wander n.o.blest thoughts oft lie in childlike play.

THE ANTIQUE TO THE NORTHERN WANDERER.