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The Poems of Schiller — Third period
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THE DIVISION OF THE EARTH
"Take the world!" Zeus exclaimed from his throne in the skies To the children of man — "take the world I now give; It shall ever remain as your heirloom and prize, So divide it as brothers, and happily live." Then all who had hands sought their share to obtain, The young and the aged made haste to appear; The husbandman seized on the fruits of the plain, The youth through the forest pursued the fleet deer. The merchant took all that his warehouse could hold, The abbot selected the last year's best wine, The king barred the bridges, — the highways controlled, And said, "Now remember, the tithes shall be mine!" But when the division long-settled had been, The poet drew nigh from a far distant land; But alas! not a remnant was now to be seen, Each thing on the earth owned a master's command. "Alas! shall then I, of thy sons the most true, — Shall I, 'mongst them all, be forgotten alone?" Thus loudly he cried in his anguish, and threw Himself in despair before Jupiter's throne. "If thou in the region of dreams didst delay, Complain not of me," the Immortal replied; "When the world was apportioned, where then wert thou, pray?" "I was," said the poet, "I was — by thy side!" "Mine eye was then fixed on thy features so bright, Mine ear was entranced by thy harmony's power; Oh, pardon the spirit that, awed by thy light, All things of the earth could forget in that hour!" "What to do?" Zeus exclaimed, — "for the world has been given; The harvest, the market, the chase, are not free; But if thou with me wilt abide in my heaven, Whenever thou comest, 'twill be open to thee!"THE FAIREST APPARITION
If thou never hast gazed upon beauty in moments of sorrow, Thou canst with truth never boast that thou true beauty hast seen. If thou never hast gazed upon gladness in beauteous features, Thou canst with truth never boast that thou true gladness hast seen.THE IDEAL AND THE ACTUAL LIFE
Forever fair, forever calm and bright, Life flies on plumage, zephyr-light, For those who on the Olympian hill rejoice — Moons wane, and races wither to the tomb, And 'mid the universal ruin, bloom The rosy days of Gods — With man, the choice, Timid and anxious, hesitates between The sense's pleasure and the soul's content; While on celestial brows, aloft and sheen, The beams of both are blent. Seekest thou on earth the life of gods to share, Safe in the realm of death? — beware To pluck the fruits that glitter to thine eye; Content thyself with gazing on their glow — Short are the joys possession can bestow, And in possession sweet desire will die. 'Twas not the ninefold chain of waves that bound Thy daughter, Ceres, to the Stygian river — She plucked the fruit of the unholy ground, And so — was hell's forever! The weavers of the web — the fates — but sway The matter and the things of clay; Safe from change that time to matter gives, Nature's blest playmate, free at will to stray With gods a god, amidst the fields of day, The form, the archetype 25, serenely lives. Would'st thou soar heavenward on its joyous wing? Cast from thee, earth, the bitter and the real, High from this cramped and dungeon being, spring Into the realm of the ideal! Here, bathed, perfection, in thy purest ray, Free from the clogs and taints of clay, Hovers divine the archetypal man! Dim as those phantom ghosts of life that gleam And wander voiceless by the Stygian stream, — Fair as it stands in fields Elysian, Ere down to flesh the immortal doth descend: — If doubtful ever in the actual life Each contest — here a victory crowns the end Of every nobler strife. Not from the strife itself to set thee free, But more to nerve — doth victory Wave her rich garland from the ideal clime. Whate'er thy wish, the earth has no repose — Life still must drag thee onward as it flows, Whirling thee down the dancing surge of time. But when the courage sinks beneath the dull Sense of its narrow limits — on the soul, Bright from the hill-tops of the beautiful, Bursts the attained goal! If worth thy while the glory and the strife Which fire the lists of actual life — The ardent rush to fortune or to fame, In the hot field where strength and valor are, And rolls the whirling thunder of the car, And the world, breathless, eyes the glorious game — Then dare and strive — the prize can but belong To him whose valor o'er his tribe prevails; In life the victory only crowns the strong — He who is feeble fails. But life, whose source, by crags around it piled, Chafed while confined, foams fierce and wild, Glides soft and smooth when once its streams expand, When its waves, glassing in their silver play, Aurora blent with Hesper's milder ray, Gain the still beautiful — that shadow-land! Here, contest grows but interchange of love, All curb is but the bondage of the grace; Gone is each foe, — peace folds her wings above Her native dwelling-place. When, through dead stone to breathe a soul of light, With the dull matter to unite The kindling genius, some great sculptor glows; Behold him straining, every nerve intent — Behold how, o'er the subject element, The stately thought its march laborious goes! For never, save to toil untiring, spoke The unwilling truth from her mysterious well — The statue only to the chisel's stroke Wakes from its marble cell. But onward to the sphere of beauty — go Onward, O child of art! and, lo! Out of the matter which thy pains control The statue springs! — not as with labor wrung From the hard block, but as from nothing sprung — Airy and light — the offspring of the soul! The pangs, the cares, the weary toils it cost Leave not a trace when once the work is done — The Artist's human frailty merged and lost In art's great victory won! 26 If human sin confronts the rigid law Of perfect truth and virtue 27, awe Seizes and saddens thee to see how far Beyond thy reach, perfection; — if we test By the ideal of the good, the best, How mean our efforts and our actions are! This space between the ideal of man's soul And man's achievement, who hath ever past? An ocean spreads between us and that goal, Where anchor ne'er was cast! But fly the boundary of the senses — live The ideal life free thought can give; And, lo, the gulf shall vanish, and the chill Of the soul's impotent despair be gone! And with divinity thou sharest the throne, Let but divinity become thy will! Scorn not the law — permit its iron band The sense (it cannot chain the soul) to thrall. Let man no more the will of Jove withstand 28, And Jove the bolt lets fall! If, in the woes of actual human life — If thou could'st see the serpent strife Which the Greek art has made divine in stone — Could'st see the writhing limbs, the livid cheek, Note every pang, and hearken every shriek, Of some despairing lost Laocoon, The human nature would thyself subdue To share the human woe before thine eye — Thy cheek would pale, and all thy soul be true To man's great sympathy. But in the ideal realm, aloof and far, Where the calm art's pure dwellers are, Lo, the Laocoon writhes, but does not groan. Here, no sharp grief the high emotion knows — Here, suffering's self is made divine, and shows The brave resolve of the firm soul alone: Here, lovely as the rainbow on the dew Of the spent thunder-cloud, to art is given, Gleaming through grief's dark veil, the peaceful blue Of the sweet moral heaven. So, in the glorious parable, behold How, bowed to mortal bonds, of old Life's dreary path divine Alcides trod: The hydra and the lion were his prey, And to restore the friend he loved to-day, He went undaunted to the black-browed god; And all the torments and the labors sore Wroth Juno sent — the meek majestic one, With patient spirit and unquailing, bore, Until the course was run — Until the god cast down his garb of clay, And rent in hallowing flame away The mortal part from the divine — to soar To the empyreal air! Behold him spring Blithe in the pride of the unwonted wing, And the dull matter that confined before Sinks downward, downward, downward as a dream! Olympian hymns receive the escaping soul, And smiling Hebe, from the ambrosial stream, Fills for a god the bowl!GERMANY AND HER PRINCES
Thou hast produced mighty monarchs, of whom thou art not unworthy, For the obedient alone make him who governs them great. But, O Germany, try if thou for thy rulers canst make it Harder as kings to be great, — easier, though, to be men!DANGEROUS CONSEQUENCES
Deeper and bolder truths be careful, my friends, of avowing; For as soon as ye do all the world on ye will fall.THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR.
(OR FROM ABROAD.)
Within a vale, each infant year, When earliest larks first carol free, To humble shepherds cloth appear A wondrous maiden, fair to see. Not born within that lowly place — From whence she wandered, none could tell; Her parting footsteps left no trace, When once the maiden sighed farewell. And blessed was her presence there — Each heart, expanding, grew more gay; Yet something loftier still than fair Kept man's familiar looks away. From fairy gardens, known to none, She brought mysterious fruits and flowers — The things of some serener sun — Some Nature more benign than ours. With each her gifts the maiden shared — To some the fruits, the flowers to some; Alike the young, the aged fared; Each bore a blessing back to home. Though every guest was welcome there, Yet some the maiden held more dear, And culled her rarest sweets whene'er She saw two hearts that loved draw near. 29THE HONORABLE
Ever honor the whole; individuals only I honor; In individuals I always discover the whole.PARABLES AND RIDDLES
I
A bridge of pearls its form uprears High o'er a gray and misty sea; E'en in a moment it appears, And rises upwards giddily. Beneath its arch can find a road The loftiest vessel's mast most high, Itself hath never borne a load, And seems, when thou draw'st near, to fly. It comes first with the stream, and goes Soon as the watery flood is dried. Where may be found this bridge, disclose, And who its beauteous form supplied!II
It bears thee many a mile away, And yet its place it changes ne'er; It has no pinions to display, And yet conducts thee through the air. It is the bark of swiftest motion That every weary wanderer bore; With speed of thought the greatest ocean It carries thee in safety o'er; One moment wafts thee to the shore.III
Upon a spacious meadow play Thousands of sheep, of silvery hue; And as we see them move to-day, The man most aged saw them too. They ne'er grow old, and, from a rill That never dries, their life is drawn; A shepherd watches o'er them still, With curved and beauteous silver horn. He drives them out through gates of gold, And every night their number counts; Yet ne'er has lost, of all his fold, One lamb, though oft that path he mounts. A hound attends him faithfully, A nimble ram precedes the way; Canst thou point out that flock to me, And who the shepherd, canst thou say?IV
There stands a dwelling, vast and tall, On unseen columns fair; No wanderer treads or leaves its hall, And none can linger there. Its wondrous structure first was planned With art no mortal knows; It lights the lamps with its own hand 'Mongst which it brightly glows. It has a roof, as crystal bright, Formed of one gem of dazzling light; Yet mortal eye has ne'er Seen Him who placed it there.V
Within a well two buckets lie, One mounts, and one descends; When one is full, and rises high, The other downward wends. They wander ever to and fro — Now empty are, now overflow. If to the mouth thou liftest this, That hangs within the dark abyss. In the same moment they can ne'er Refresh thee with their treasures fair.VI
Know'st thou the form on tender ground? It gives itself its glow, its light; And though each moment changing found. Is ever whole and ever bright. In narrow compass 'tis confined, Within the smallest frame it lies; Yet all things great that move thy mind, That form alone to thee supplies. And canst thou, too, the crystal name? No gem can equal it in worth; It gleams, yet kindles near to flame, It sucks in even all the earth. Within its bright and wondrous ring Is pictured forth the glow of heaven, And yet it mirrors back each thing Far fairer than to it 'twas given.VII
For ages an edifice here has been found, It is not a dwelling, it is not a Pane; A horseman for hundreds of days may ride round, Yet the end of his journey he ne'er can attain. Full many a century o'er it has passed, The might of the storm and of time it defies! Neath the rainbow of Heaven stands free to the last, — In the ocean it dips, and soars up to the skies. It was not vain glory that bade its erection, It serves as a refuge, a shield, a protection; Its like on the earth never yet has been known And yet by man's hand it is fashioned alone.VIII
Among all serpents there is one, Born of no earthly breed; In fury wild it stands alone, And in its matchless speed. With fearful voice and headlong force It rushes on its prey, And sweeps the rider and his horse In one fell swoop away. The highest point it loves to gain; And neither bar nor lock Its fiery onslaught can restrain; And arms — invite its shock. It tears in twain like tender grass, The strongest forest-trees; It grinds to dust the hardened brass, Though stout and firm it be. And yet this beast, that none can tame, Its threat ne'er twice fulfils; It dies in its self-kindled flame. And dies e'en when it kills.IX
We children six our being had From a most strange and wondrous pair, — Our mother ever grave and sad, Our father ever free from care. Our virtues we from both receive, — Meekness from her, from him our light; And so in endless youth we weave Round thee a circling figure bright. We ever shun the caverns black, And revel in the glowing day; 'Tis we who light the world's dark track, With our life's clear and magic ray. Spring's joyful harbingers are we, And her inspiring streams we swell; And so the house of death we flee, For life alone must round us dwell. Without us is no perfect bliss, When man is glad, we, too, attend, And when a monarch worshipped is, To him our majesty attend.X
What is the thing esteemed by few? The monarch's hand it decks with pride, Yet it is made to injure too, And to the sword is most allied. No blood it sheds, yet many a wound Inflicts, — gives wealth, yet takes from none; Has vanquished e'en the earth's wide round, And makes life's current smoothly run. The greatest kingdoms it has framed, The oldest cities reared from dust, Yet war's fierce torch has ne'er inflamed; Happy are they who in it trust!XI
I live within a dwelling of stone, There buried in slumber I dally; Yet, armed with a weapon of iron alone, The foe to encounter I sally. At first I'm invisible, feeble, and mean, And o'er me thy breath has dominion; I'm easily drowned in a raindrop e'en, Yet in victory waxes my pinion. When my sister, all-powerful, gives me her hand, To the terrible lord of the world I expand.XII
Upon a disk my course I trace, There restlessly forever flit; Small is the circuit I embrace, Two hands suffice to cover it. Yet ere that field I traverse, I Full many a thousand mile must go, E'en though with tempest-speed I fly, Swifter than arrow from a bow.XIII
A bird it is, whose rapid motion With eagle's flight divides the air; A fish it is, and parts the ocean, That bore a greater monster ne'er; An elephant it is, whose rider On his broad back a tower has put: 'Tis like the reptile base, the spider, Whenever it extends its foot; And when, with iron tooth projecting, It seeks its own life-blood to drain, On footing firm, itself erecting, It braves the raging hurricane.THE VIRTUE OF WOMAN
Man of virtue has need; — into life with boldness he plunges, Entering with fortune more sure into the hazardous strife; But to woman one virtue suffices; it is ever shining Lovingly forth to the heart; so let it shine to the eye!
