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The Poems of Schiller — Third period
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THE ELEUSINIAN FESTIVAL
Wreathe in a garland the corn's golden ear! With it, the Cyane 17 blue intertwine Rapture must render each glance bright and clear, For the great queen is approaching her shrine, — She who compels lawless passions to cease, Who to link man with his fellow has come, And into firm habitations of peace Changed the rude tents' ever-wandering home. Shyly in the mountain-cleft Was the Troglodyte concealed; And the roving Nomad left, Desert lying, each broad field. With the javelin, with the bow, Strode the hunter through the land; To the hapless stranger woe, Billow-cast on that wild strand! When, in her sad wanderings lost, Seeking traces of her child, Ceres hailed the dreary coast, Ah, no verdant plain then smiled! That she here with trust may stay, None vouchsafes a sheltering roof; Not a temple's columns gay Give of godlike worship proof. Fruit of no propitious ear Bids her to the pure feast fly; On the ghastly altars here Human bones alone e'er dry. Far as she might onward rove, Misery found she still in all, And within her soul of love, Sorrowed she o'er man's deep fall. "Is it thus I find the man To whom we our image lend, Whose fair limbs of noble span Upward towards the heavens ascend? Laid we not before his feet Earth's unbounded godlike womb? Yet upon his kingly seat Wanders he without a home?" "Does no god compassion feel? Will none of the blissful race, With an arm of miracle, Raise him from his deep disgrace? In the heights where rapture reigns Pangs of others ne'er can move; Yet man's anguish and man's pains My tormented heart must prove." "So that a man a man may be, Let him make an endless bond With the kind earth trustingly, Who is ever good and fond To revere the law of time, And the moon's melodious song Who, with silent step sublime, Move their sacred course along." And she softly parts the cloud That conceals her from the sight; Sudden, in the savage crowd, Stands she, as a goddess bright. There she finds the concourse rude In their glad feast revelling, And the chalice filled with blood As a sacrifice they bring. But she turns her face away, Horror-struck, and speaks the while "Bloody tiger-feasts ne'er may Of a god the lips defile, He needs victims free from stain, Fruits matured by autumn's sun; With the pure gifts of the plain Honored is the Holy One!" And she takes the heavy shaft From the hunter's cruel hand; With the murderous weapon's haft Furrowing the light-strown sand, — Takes from out her garland's crown, Filled with life, one single grain, Sinks it in the furrow down, And the germ soon swells amain. And the green stalks gracefully Shoot, ere long, the ground above, And, as far as eye can see, Waves it like a golden grove. With her smile the earth she cheers, Binds the earliest sheaves so fair, As her hearth the landmark rears, — And the goddess breathes this prayer: "Father Zeus, who reign'st o'er all That in ether's mansions dwell, Let a sign from thee now fall That thou lov'st this offering well! And from the unhappy crowd That, as yet, has ne'er known thee, Take away the eye's dark cloud, Showing them their deity!" Zeus, upon his lofty throne, Harkens to his sister's prayer; From the blue heights thundering down, Hurls his forked lightning there, Crackling, it begins to blaze, From the altar whirling bounds, — And his swift-winged eagle plays High above in circling rounds. Soon at the feet of their mistress are kneeling, Filled with emotion, the rapturous throng; Into humanity's earliest feeling Melt their rude spirits, untutored and strong. Each bloody weapon behind them they leave, Rays on their senses beclouded soon shine, And from the mouth of the queen they receive, Gladly and meekly, instruction divine. All the deities advance Downward from their heavenly seats; Themis' self 'tis leads the dance, And, with staff of justice, metes Unto every one his rights, — Landmarks, too, 'tis hers to fix; And in witness she invites All the hidden powers of Styx. And the forge-god, too, is there, The inventive son of Zeus; Fashioner of vessels fair Skilled in clay and brass's use. 'Tis from him the art man knows Tongs and bellows how to wield; 'Neath his hammer's heavy blows Was the ploughshare first revealed. With projecting, weighty spear, Front of all, Minerva stands, Lifts her voice so strong and clear, And the godlike host commands. Steadfast walls 'tis hers to found, Shield and screen for every one, That the scattered world around Bind in loving unison. The immortals' steps she guides O'er the trackless plains so vast, And where'er her foot abides Is the boundary god held fast; And her measuring chain is led Round the mountain's border green, — E'en the raging torrent's bed In the holy ring is seen. All the Nymphs and Oreads too Who, the mountain pathways o'er, Swift-foot Artemis pursue, All to swell the concourse, pour, Brandishing the hunting-spear, — Set to work, — glad shouts uprise, — 'Neath their axes' blows so clear Crashing down the pine-wood flies. E'en the sedge-crowned God ascends From his verdant spring to light, And his raft's direction bends At the goddess' word of might, — While the hours, all gently bound, Nimbly to their duty fly; Rugged trunks are fashioned round By her skilled hand gracefully. E'en the sea-god thither fares; — Sudden, with his trident's blow, He the granite columns tears From earth's entrails far below; — In his mighty hands, on high, Waves he them, like some light ball, And with nimble Hermes by, Raises up the rampart-wall. But from out the golden strings Lures Apollo harmony, Measured time's sweet murmurings, And the might of melody. The Camoenae swell the strain With their song of ninefold tone: Captive bound in music's chain, Softly stone unites to stone. Cybele, with skilful hand, Open throws the wide-winged door; Locks and bolts by her are planned, Sure to last forevermore. Soon complete the wondrous halls By the gods' own hands are made, And the temple's glowing walls Stand in festal pomp arrayed. With a crown of myrtle twined, Now the goddess queen comes there, And she leads the fairest hind To the shepherdess most fair. Venus, with her beauteous boy, That first pair herself attires; All the gods bring gifts of joy, Blessing their love's sacred fires. Guided by the deities, Soon the new-born townsmen pour, Ushered in with harmonies, Through the friendly open door. Holding now the rites divine, Ceres at Zeus' altar stands, — Blessing those around the shrine, Thus she speaks, with folded hands: — "Freedom's love the beast inflames, And the god rules free in air, While the law of Nature tames Each wild lust that lingers there. Yet, when thus together thrown, Man with man must fain unite; And by his own worth alone Can he freedom gain, and might." Wreathe in a garland the corn's golden ear! With it, the Cyane blue intertwine! Rapture must render each glance bright and clear, For the great queen is approaching her shrine, — She who our homesteads so blissful has given, She who has man to his fellow-man bound: Let our glad numbers extol then to heaven, Her who the earth's kindly mother is found!THE RING OF POLYCRATES. 18
A BALLAD
Upon his battlements he stood, And downward gazed in joyous mood, On Samos' Isle, that owned his sway, "All this is subject to my yoke;" To Egypt's monarch thus he spoke, — "That I am truly blest, then, say!" "The immortals' favor thou hast known! Thy sceptre's might has overthrown All those who once were like to thee. Yet to avenge them one lives still; I cannot call thee blest, until That dreaded foe has ceased to be." While to these words the king gave vent, A herald from Miletus sent, Appeared before the tyrant there: "Lord, let thy incense rise to-day, And with the laurel branches gay Thou well may'st crown thy festive hair!" "Thy foe has sunk beneath the spear, — I'm sent to bear the glad news here, By thy true marshal Polydore" — Then from a basin black he takes — The fearful sight their terror wakes — A well-known head, besmeared with gore. The king with horror stepped aside, And then with anxious look replied: "Thy bliss to fortune ne'er commit. On faithless waves, bethink thee how Thy fleet with doubtful fate swims now — How soon the storm may scatter it!" But ere he yet had spoke the word, A shout of jubilee is heard Resounding from the distant strand. With foreign treasures teeming o'er, The vessels' mast-rich wood once more Returns home to its native land. The guest then speaks with startled mind: "Fortune to-day, in truth, seems kind; But thou her fickleness shouldst fear: The Cretan hordes, well skilled, in arms, Now threaten thee with war's alarms; E'en now they are approaching here." And, ere the word has 'scaped his lips, A stir is seen amongst the ships, And thousand voices "Victory!" cry: "We are delivered from our foe, The storm has laid the Cretan low, The war is ended, is gone by!" The shout with horror hears the guest: "In truth, I must esteem thee blest! Yet dread I the decrees of heaven. The envy of the gods I fear; To taste of unmixed rapture here Is never to a mortal given." "With me, too, everything succeeds; In all my sovereign acts and deeds The grace of Heaven is ever by; And yet I had a well-loved heir — I paid my debt to fortune there — God took him hence — I saw him die." "Wouldst thou from sorrow, then, be free. Pray to each unseen Deity, For thy well-being, grief to send; The man on whom the Gods bestow Their gifts with hands that overflow, Comes never to a happy end." "And if the Gods thy prayer resist, Then to a friend's instruction list, — Invoke thyself adversity; And what, of all thy treasures bright, Gives to thy heart the most delight — That take and cast thou in the sea!" Then speaks the other, moved by fear: "This ring to me is far most dear Of all this isle within it knows — I to the furies pledge it now, If they will happiness allow" — And in the flood the gem he throws. And with the morrow's earliest light, Appeared before the monarch's sight A fisherman, all joyously; "Lord, I this fish just now have caught, No net before e'er held the sort; And as a gift I bring it thee." The fish was opened by the cook, Who suddenly, with wondering look, Runs up, and utters these glad sounds: "Within the fish's maw, behold, I've found, great lord, thy ring of gold! Thy fortune truly knows no bounds!" The guest with terror turned away: "I cannot here, then, longer stay, — My friend thou canst no longer be! The gods have willed that thou shouldst die: Lest I, too, perish, I must fly" — He spoke, — and sailed thence hastily.THE CRANES OF IBYCUS.
A BALLAD
Once to the song and chariot-fight, Where all the tribes of Greece unite On Corinth's isthmus joyously, The god-loved Ibycus drew nigh. On him Apollo had bestowed The gift of song and strains inspired; So, with light staff, he took his road From Rhegium, by the godhead fired. Acrocorinth, on mountain high, Now burns upon the wanderer's eye, And he begins, with pious dread, Poseidon's grove of firs to tread. Naught moves around him, save a swarm Of cranes, who guide him on his way; Who from far southern regions warm Have hither come in squadron gray. "Thou friendly band, all hail to thee! Who led'st me safely o'er the sea! I deem thee as a favoring sign, — My destiny resembles thine. Both come from a far distant coast, Both pray for some kind sheltering place; — Propitious toward us be the host Who from the stranger wards disgrace!" And on he hastes, in joyous wood, And reaches soon the middle wood When, on a narrow bridge, by force Two murderers sudden bar his course. He must prepare him for the fray, But soon his wearied hand sinks low; Inured the gentle lyre to play, It ne'er has strung the deadly bow. On gods and men for aid he cries, — No savior to his prayer replies; However far his voice he sends, Naught living to his cry attends. "And must I in a foreign land, Unwept, deserted, perish here, Falling beneath a murderous hand, Where no avenger can appear?" Deep-wounded, down he sinks at last, When, lo! the cranes' wings rustle past. He hears, — though he no more can see, — Their voices screaming fearfully. "By you, ye cranes, that soar on high, If not another voice is heard, Be borne to heaven my murder-cry!" He speaks, and dies, too, with the word. The naked corpse, ere long, is found, And, though defaced by many a wound, His host in Corinth soon could tell The features that he loved so well. "And is it thus I find thee now, Who hoped the pine's victorious crown To place upon the singer's brow, Illumined by his bright renown?" The news is heard with grief by all Met at Poseidon's festival; All Greece is conscious of the smart, He leaves a void in every heart; And to the Prytanis 19 swift hie The people, and they urge him on The dead man's manes to pacify And with the murderer's blood atone. But where's the trace that from the throng The people's streaming crowds among, Allured there by the sports so bright, Can bring the villain back to light? By craven robbers was he slain? Or by some envious hidden foe? That Helios only can explain, Whose rays illume all things below. Perchance, with shameless step and proud, He threads e'en now the Grecian crowd — Whilst vengeance follows in pursuit, Gloats over his transgression's fruit. The very gods perchance he braves Upon the threshold of their fane, — Joins boldly in the human waves That haste yon theatre to gain. For there the Grecian tribes appear, Fast pouring in from far and near; On close-packed benches sit they there, — The stage the weight can scarcely bear. Like ocean-billows' hollow roar, The teaming crowds of living man Toward the cerulean heavens upsoar, In bow of ever-widening span. Who knows the nation, who the name, Of all who there together came? From Theseus' town, from Aulis' strand From Phocis, from the Spartan land, From Asia's distant coast, they wend, From every island of the sea, And from the stage they hear ascend The chorus's dread melody. Who, sad and solemn, as of old, With footsteps measured and controlled, Advancing from the far background, Circle the theatre's wide round. Thus, mortal women never move! No mortal home to them gave birth! Their giant-bodies tower above, High o'er the puny sons of earth. With loins in mantle black concealed, Within their fleshless bands they wield The torch, that with a dull red glows, — While in their cheek no life-blood flows; And where the hair is floating wide And loving, round a mortal brow, Here snakes and adders are descried, Whose bellies swell with poison now. And, standing in a fearful ring, The dread and solemn chant they sing, That through the bosom thrilling goes, And round the sinner fetters throws. Sense-robbing, of heart-maddening power, The furies' strains resound through air The listener's marrow they devour, — The lyre can yield such numbers ne'er. "Happy the man who, blemish-free, Preserves a soul of purity! Near him we ne'er avenging come, He freely o'er life's path may roam. But woe to him who, hid from view, Hath done the deed of murder base! Upon his heels we close pursue, — We, who belong to night's dark race!" "And if he thinks to 'scape by flight, Winged we appear, our snare of might Around his flying feet to cast, So that he needs must fall at last. Thus we pursue him, tiring ne'er, — Our wrath repentance cannot quell, — On to the shadows, and e'en there We leave him not in peace to dwell!" Thus singing, they the dance resume, And silence, like that of the tomb, O'er the whole house lies heavily, As if the deity were nigh. And staid and solemn, as of old, Circling the theatre's wide round, With footsteps measured and controlled, They vanish in the far background. Between deceit and truth each breast. Now doubting hangs, by awe possessed, And homage pays to that dread might, That judges what is hid from sight, — That, fathomless, inscrutable, The gloomy skein of fate entwines, That reads the bosom's depths full well, Yet flies away where sunlight shines. When sudden, from the tier most high, A voice is heard by all to cry: "See there, see there, Timotheus! Behold the cranes of Ibycus!" The heavens become as black as night, And o'er the theatre they see, Far over-head, a dusky flight Of cranes, approaching hastily. "Of Ibycus!" — That name so blest With new-born sorrow fills each breast. As waves on waves in ocean rise, From mouth to mouth it swiftly flies: "Of Ibycus, whom we lament? Who fell beneath the murderer's hand? What mean those words that from him went? What means this cranes' advancing band?" And louder still become the cries, And soon this thought foreboding flies Through every heart, with speed of light — "Observe in this the furies' might! The poets manes are now appeased The murderer seeks his own arrest! Let him who spoke the word be seized, And him to whom it was addressed!" That word he had no sooner spoke, Than he its sound would fain invoke; In vain! his mouth, with terror pale, Tells of his guilt the fearful tale. Before the judge they drag them now The scene becomes the tribunal; Their crimes the villains both avow, When neath the vengeance-stroke they fall.
