The Poems of Schiller — Third period
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THE TRIUMPHAL ARCH
"Fear not," the builder exclaimed, "the rainbow that stands in the heavens; I will extend thee, like it, into infinity far!"THE BEAUTIFUL BRIDGE
Under me, over me, hasten the waters, the chariots; my builder Kindly has suffered e'en me, over myself, too, to go!THE GATE
Let the gate open stand, to allure the savage to precepts; Let it the citizen lead into free nature with joy.ST. PETER'S
If thou seekest to find immensity here, thou'rt mistaken; For my greatness is meant greater to make thee thyself!THE PHILOSOPHERS.
PUPIL
I am rejoiced, worthy sirs, to find you in pleno assembled; For I have come down below, seeking the one needful thing.ARISTOTLE
Quick to the point, my good friend! For the Jena Gazette comes to hand here, Even in hell, — so we know all that is passing above.PUPIL
So much the better! So give me (I will not depart hence without it) Some good principle now, — one that will always avail!FIRST PHILOSOPHER
Cogito, ergo sum. I have thought, and therefore existence! If the first be but true, then is the second one sure.PUPIL
As I think, I exist. 'Tis good! But who always is thinking? Oft I've existed e'en when I have been thinking of naught.SECOND PHILOSOPHER
Since there are things that exist, a thing of all things there must needs be; In the thing of all things dabble we, just as we are.THIRD PHILOSOPHER
Just the reverse, say I. Besides myself there is nothing; Everything else that there is is but a bubble to me.FOURTH PHILOSOPHER
Two kinds of things I allow to exist, — the world and the spirit; Naught of others I know; even these signify one.FIFTH PHILOSOPHER
I know naught of the thing, and know still less of the spirit; Both but appear unto me; yet no appearance they are.SIXTH PHILOSOPHER
I am I, and settle myself, — and if I then settle Nothing to be, well and good — there's a nonentity formed.SEVENTH PHILOSOPHER
There is conception at least! A thing conceived there is, therefore; And a conceiver as well, — which, with conception, make three.PUPIL
All this nonsense, good sirs, won't answer my purpose a tittle: I a real principle need, — one by which something is fixed.EIGHTH PHILOSOPHER
Nothing is now to be found in the theoretical province; Practical principles hold, such as: thou canst, for thou shouldst.PUPIL
If I but thought so! When people know no more sensible answer, Into the conscience at once plunge they with desperate haste.DAVID HUME
Don't converse with those fellows! That Kant has turned them all crazy; Speak to me, for in hell I am the same that I was.LAW POINT
I have made use of my nose for years together to smell with; Have I a right to my nose that can be legally proved?PUFFENDORF
Truly a delicate point! Yet the first possession appeareth In thy favor to tell; therefore make use of it still!SCRUPLE OF CONSCIENCE
Willingly serve I my friends; but, alas, I do it with pleasure; Therefore I often am vexed that no true virtue I have.DECISION
As there is no other means, thou hadst better begin to despise them; And with aversion, then, do that which thy duty commands.THE HOMERIDES
Who is the bard of the Iliad among you? For since he likes puddings, Heyne begs he'll accept these that from Gottingen come. "Give them to me! The kings' quarrel I sang!" — "I, the fight near the vessels!" — "Hand me the puddings! I sang what upon Ida took place!" Gently! Don't tear me to pieces! The puddings will not be sufficient; He by whom they are sent destined them only for one.G. G
Each one, when seen by himself, is passably wise and judicious; When they in corpore are, naught but a blockhead is seen.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!IMMORTALITY
Dreadest thou the aspect of death! Thou wishest to live on forever? Live in the whole, and when long thou shalt have gone, 'twill remain!JEREMIADS
All, both in prose and in verse, in Germany fast is decaying; Far behind us, alas, lieth the golden age now! For by philosophers spoiled is our language — our logic by poets, And no more common sense governs our passage through life. From the aesthetic, to which she belongs, now virtue is driven, And into politics forced, where she's a troublesome guest. Where are we hastening now? If natural, dull we are voted, And if we put on constraint, then the world calls us absurd. Oh, thou joyous artlessness 'mongst the poor maidens of Leipzig, Witty simplicity come, — come, then, to glad us again! Comedy, oh repeat thy weekly visits so precious, Sigismund, lover so sweet, — Mascarill, valet jocose! Tragedy, full of salt and pungency epigrammatic, — And thou, minuet-step of our old buskin preserved! Philosophic romance, thou mannikin waiting with patience, When, 'gainst the pruner's attack, Nature defendeth herself! Ancient prose, oh return, — so nobly and boldly expressing All that thou thinkest and hast thought, — and what the reader thinks too All, both in prose and in verse, in Germany fast is decaying; Far behind us, alas, lieth the golden age now!SHAKESPEARE'S GHOST.
A PARODY
I, too, at length discerned great Hercules' energy mighty, — Saw his shade. He himself was not, alas, to be seen. Round him were heard, like the screaming of birds, the screams of tragedians, And, with the baying of dogs, barked dramaturgists around. There stood the giant in all his terrors; his bow was extended, And the bolt, fixed on the string, steadily aimed at the heart. "What still hardier action, unhappy one, dost thou now venture, Thus to descend to the grave of the departed souls here?" — "'Tis to see Tiresias I come, to ask of the prophet Where I the buskin of old, that now has vanished, may find?" "If they believe not in Nature, nor the old Grecian, but vainly Wilt thou convey up from hence that dramaturgy to them." "Oh, as for Nature, once more to tread our stage she has ventured, Ay, and stark-naked beside, so that each rib we count." "What? Is the buskin of old to be seen in truth on your stage, then, Which even I came to fetch, out of mid-Tartarus' gloom?" — "There is now no more of that tragic bustle, for scarcely Once in a year on the boards moves thy great soul, harness-clad." "Doubtless 'tis well! Philosophy now has refined your sensations, And from the humor so bright fly the affections so black." — "Ay, there is nothing that beats a jest that is stolid and barren, But then e'en sorrow can please, if 'tis sufficiently moist." "But do ye also exhibit the graceful dance of Thalia, Joined to the solemn step with which Melpomene moves?" — "Neither! For naught we love but what is Christian and moral; And what is popular, too, homely, domestic, and plain." "What? Does no Caesar, does no Achilles, appear on your stage now, Not an Andromache e'en, not an Orestes, my friend?" "No! there is naught to be seen there but parsons, and syndics of commerce, Secretaries perchance, ensigns, and majors of horse." "But, my good friend, pray tell me, what can such people e'er meet with That can be truly called great? — what that is great can they do?" "What? Why they form cabals, they lend upon mortgage, they pocket Silver spoons, and fear not e'en in the stocks to be placed." "Whence do ye, then, derive the destiny, great and gigantic, Which raises man up on high, e'en when it grinds him to dust?" — "All mere nonsense! Ourselves, our worthy acquaintances also, And our sorrows and wants, seek we, and find we, too, here." "But all this ye possess at home both apter and better, — Wherefore, then, fly from yourselves, if 'tis yourselves that ye seek?" "Be not offended, great hero, for that is a different question; Ever is destiny blind, — ever is righteous the bard." "Then one meets on your stage your own contemptible nature, While 'tis in vain one seeks there nature enduring and great?" "There the poet is host, and act the fifth is the reckoning; And, when crime becomes sick, virtue sits down to the feast!"THE RIVERS.
RHINE
True, as becometh a Switzer, I watch over Germany's borders; But the light-footed Gaul jumps o'er the suffering stream.RHINE AND MOSELLE
Many a year have I clasped in my arms the Lorrainian maiden; But our union as yet ne'er has been blest with a son.DANUBE IN —
Round me are dwelling the falcon-eyed race, the Phaeacian people; Sunday with them never ends; ceaselessly moves round the spit.MAIN
Ay, it is true that my castles are crumbling; yet, to my comfort, Have I for centuries past seen my old race still endure.SAALE
Short is my course, during which I salute many princes and nations; Yet the princes are good — ay! and the nations are free.ILM
Poor are my banks, it is true; but yet my soft-flowing waters Many immortal lays here, borne by the current along.PLEISSE
Flat is my shore and shallow my current; alas, all my writers, Both in prose and in verse, drink far too deep of its stream!ELBE
All ye others speak only a jargon; 'mongst Germany's rivers None speak German but me; I but in Misnia alone.SPREE
Ramler once gave me language, — my Caesar a subject; and therefore I had my mouth then stuffed full; but I've been silent since that.WESER
Nothing, alas, can be said about me; I really can't furnish Matter enough to the Muse e'en for an epigram, small.MINERAL WATERS AT —
Singular country! what excellent taste in its fountains and rivers In its people alone none have I ever yet found!PEGNTTZ
I for a long time have been a hypochondriacal subject; I but flow on because it has my habit been long.THE — RIVERS
We would gladly remain in the lands that own — as their masters; Soft their yoke ever is, and all their burdens are light.SALZACH
I, to salt the archbishopric, come from Juvavia's mountains; Then to Bavaria turn, where they have great need of salt!THE ANONYMOUS RIVER
Lenten food for the pious bishop's table to furnish, By my Creator I'm poured over the famishing land.LES FLEUVES INDISCRETS
Pray be silent, ye rivers! One sees ye have no more discretion Than, in a case we could name, Diderot's favorites had.ZENITH AND NADIR
Wheresoever thou wanderest in space, thy Zenith and Nadir Unto the heavens knit thee, unto the axis of earth. Howsoever thou attest, let heaven be moved by thy purpose, Let the aim of thy deeds traverse the axis of earth!KANT AND HIS COMMENTATORS
See how a single rich man gives a living to numbers of beggars! 'Tis when sovereigns build, carters are kept in employ.THE PHILOSOPHERS
The principle by which each thing Toward strength and shape first tended, — The pulley whereon Zeus the ring Of earth, that loosely used to swing, With cautiousness suspended, — he is a clever man, I vow, Who its real name can tell me now, Unless to help him I consent — 'Tis: ten and twelve are different! Fire burns, — 'tis chilly when it snows, Man always is two-footed, — The sun across the heavens goes, — This, he who naught of logic knows Finds to his reason suited. Yet he who metaphysics learns, Knows that naught freezes when it burns — Knows that what's wet is never dry, — And that what's bright attracts the eye. Old Homer sings his noble lays, The hero goes through dangers; The brave man duty's call obeys, And did so, even in the days When sages yet were strangers — But heart and genius now have taught What Locke and what Descartes never thought; By them immediately is shown That which is possible alone. In life avails the right of force. The bold the timid worries; Who rules not, is a slave of course, Without design each thing across Earth's stage forever hurries. Yet what would happen if the plan Which guides the world now first began, Within the moral system lies Disclosed with clearness to our eyes. "When man would seek his destiny, Man's help must then be given; Save for the whole, ne'er labors he, — Of many drops is formed the sea, — By water mills are driven; Therefore the wolf's wild species flies, — Knit are the state's enduring ties." Thus Puffendorf and Feder, each Is, ex cathedra, wont to teach. Yet, if what such professors say, Each brain to enter durst not, Nature exerts her mother-sway, Provides that ne'er the chain gives way, And that the ripe fruits burst not. Meanwhile, until earth's structure vast Philosophy can bind at last, 'Tis she that bids its pinion move, By means of hunger and of love!THE METAPHYSICIAN
"How far beneath me seems the earthly ball! The pigmy race below I scarce can see; How does my art, the noblest art of all, Bear me close up to heaven's bright canopy!" So cries the slater from his tower's high top, And so the little would-be mighty man, Hans Metaphysicus, from out his critic-shop. Explain, thou little would-be mighty man! The tower from which thy looks the world survey, Whereof, — whereon is it erected, pray? How didst thou mount it? Of what use to thee Its naked heights, save o'er the vale to see?PEGASUS IN HARNESS
Once to a horse-fair, — it may perhaps have been Where other things are bought and sold, — I mean At the Haymarket, — there the muses' horse A hungry poet brought — to sell, of course. 'The hippogriff neighed shrilly, loudly, And reared upon his hind-legs proudly; In utter wonderment each stood and cried: "The noble regal beast!" But, woe betide! Two hideous wings his slender form deface, The finest team he else would not disgrace. "The breed," said they, "is doubtless rare, But who would travel through the air?" Not one of them would risk his gold. At length a farmer grew more bold: "As for his wings, I of no use should find them, But then how easy 'tis to clip or bind them! The horse for drawing may be useful found, — So, friend, I don't mind giving twenty pound!" The other glad to sell his merchandise, Cried, "Done!" — and Hans rode off upon his prize. The noble creature was, ere long, put-to, But scarcely felt the unaccustomed load, Than, panting to soar upwards, off he flew, And, filled with honest anger, overthrew The cart where an abyss just met the road. "Ho! ho!" thought Hans: "No cart to this mad beast I'll trust. Experience makes one wise at least. To drive the coach to-morrow now my course is, And he as leader in the team shall go. The lively fellow'll save me full two horses; As years pass on, he'll doubtless tamer grow." All went on well at first. The nimble steed His partners roused, — like lightning was their speed. What happened next? Toward heaven was turned his eye, — Unused across the solid ground to fly, He quitted soon the safe and beaten course, And true to nature's strong resistless force, Ran over bog and moor, o'er hedge and pasture tilled; An equal madness soon the other horses filled — No reins could hold them in, no help was near, Till, — only picture the poor travellers' fear! — The coach, well shaken, and completely wrecked, Upon a hill's steep top at length was checked. "If this is always sure to be the case," Hans cried, and cut a very sorry face, "He'll never do to draw a coach or wagon; Let's see if we can't tame the fiery dragon By means of heavy work and little food." And so the plan was tried. — But what ensued? The handsome beast, before three days had passed, Wasted to nothing. "Stay! I see at last!" Cried Hans. "Be quick, you fellows! yoke him now With my most sturdy ox before the plough." No sooner said than done. In union queer Together yoked were soon winged horse and steer. The griffin pranced with rage, and his remaining might Exerted to resume his old-accustomed flight. 'Twas all in vain — his partner stepped with circumspection, And Phoebus' haughty steed must follow his direction; Until at last, by long resistance spent, When strength his limbs no longer was controlling, The noble creature, with affliction bent, Fell to the ground, and in the dust lay rolling. "Accursed beast!" at length with fury mad Hans shouted, while he soundly plied the lash, — "Even for ploughing, then, thou art too bad! — That fellow was a rogue to sell such trash!" Ere yet his heavy blows had ceased to fly, A brisk and merry youth by chance came by. A lute was tinkling in his hand, And through his light and flowing hair Was twined with grace a golden band. "Whither, my friend, with that strange pair?" From far he to the peasant cried. "A bird and ox to one rope tied — Was such a team e'er heard of, pray? Thy horse's worth I'd fain essay; Just for one moment lend him me, — Observe, and thou shalt wonders see!" The hippogriff was loosened from the plough, Upon his back the smiling youth leaped now; No sooner did the creature understand That he was guided by a master-hand, Than 'ginst his bit he champed, and upward soared While lightning from his flaming eyes outpoured. No longer the same being, royally A spirit, ay, a god, ascended he, Spread in a moment to the stormy wind His noble wings, and left the earth behind, And, ere the eye could follow him, Had vanished in the heavens dim.