Kitabı oku: «The Poems of Schiller — Third period», sayfa 5

CASSANDRA

 
   Mirth the halls of Troy was filling,
    Ere its lofty ramparts fell;
   From the golden lute so thrilling
    Hymns of joy were heard to swell.
   From the sad and tearful slaughter
    All had laid their arms aside,
   For Pelides Priam's daughter
    Claimed then as his own fair bride.
 
 
   Laurel branches with them bearing,
    Troop on troop in bright array
   To the temples were repairing,
    Owning Thymbrius' sovereign sway.
   Through the streets, with frantic measure,
    Danced the bacchanal mad round,
   And, amid the radiant pleasure,
    Only one sad breast was found.
 
 
   Joyless in the midst of gladness,
    None to heed her, none to love,
   Roamed Cassandra, plunged in sadness,
    To Apollo's laurel grove.
   To its dark and deep recesses
    Swift the sorrowing priestess hied,
   And from off her flowing tresses
    Tore the sacred band, and cried:
 
 
   "All around with joy is beaming,
    Ev'ry heart is happy now,
   And my sire is fondly dreaming,
    Wreathed with flowers my sister's brow
   I alone am doomed to wailing,
    That sweet vision flies from me;
   In my mind, these walls assailing,
    Fierce destruction I can see."
 
 
   "Though a torch I see all-glowing,
    Yet 'tis not in Hymen's hand;
   Smoke across the skies is blowing,
    Yet 'tis from no votive brand.
   Yonder see I feasts entrancing,
    But in my prophetic soul,
   Hear I now the God advancing,
    Who will steep in tears the bowl!"
 
 
   "And they blame my lamentation,
    And they laugh my grief to scorn;
   To the haunts of desolation
    I must bear my woes forlorn.
   All who happy are, now shun me,
    And my tears with laughter see;
   Heavy lies thy hand upon me,
    Cruel Pythian deity!"
 
 
   "Thy divine decrees foretelling,
    Wherefore hast thou thrown me here,
   Where the ever-blind are dwelling,
    With a mind, alas, too clear?
   Wherefore hast thou power thus given,
    What must needs occur to know?
   Wrought must be the will of Heaven —
    Onward come the hour of woe!"
 
 
   "When impending fate strikes terror,
    Why remove the covering?
   Life we have alone in error,
    Knowledge with it death must bring.
   Take away this prescience tearful,
    Take this sight of woe from me;
   Of thy truths, alas! how fearful
    'Tis the mouthpiece frail to be!"
 
 
   "Veil my mind once more in slumbers
    Let me heedlessly rejoice;
   Never have I sung glad numbers
    Since I've been thy chosen voice.
   Knowledge of the future giving,
    Thou hast stolen the present day,
   Stolen the moment's joyous living, —
    Take thy false gift, then, away!"
 
 
   "Ne'er with bridal train around me,
    Have I wreathed my radiant brow,
   Since to serve thy fane I bound me —
    Bound me with a solemn vow.
   Evermore in grief I languish —
    All my youth in tears was spent;
   And with thoughts of bitter anguish
    My too-feeling heart is rent."
 
 
   "Joyously my friends are playing,
    All around are blest and glad,
   In the paths of pleasure straying, —
    My poor heart alone is sad.
   Spring in vain unfolds each treasure,
    Filling all the earth with bliss;
   Who in life can e'er take pleasure,
    When is seen its dark abyss?"
 
 
   "With her heart in vision burning,
    Truly blest is Polyxene,
   As a bride to clasp him yearning.
    Him, the noblest, best Hellene!
   And her breast with rapture swelling,
    All its bliss can scarcely know;
   E'en the Gods in heavenly dwelling
    Envying not, when dreaming so."
 
 
   "He to whom my heart is plighted
    Stood before my ravished eye,
   And his look, by passion lighted,
    Toward me turned imploringly.
   With the loved one, oh, how gladly
    Homeward would I take my flight
   But a Stygian shadow sadly
    Steps between us every night."
 
 
   "Cruel Proserpine is sending
    All her spectres pale to me;
   Ever on my steps attending
    Those dread shadowy forms I see.
   Though I seek, in mirth and laughter
    Refuge from that ghastly train,
   Still I see them hastening after, —
    Ne'er shall I know joy again."
 
 
   "And I see the death-steel glancing,
    And the eye of murder glare;
   On, with hasty strides advancing,
    Terror haunts me everywhere.
   Vain I seek alleviation; —
    Knowing, seeing, suffering all,
   I must wait the consummation,
    In a foreign land must fall."
 
 
   While her solemn words are ringing,
    Hark! a dull and wailing tone
   From the temple's gate upspringing, —
    Dead lies Thetis' mighty son!
   Eris shakes her snake-locks hated,
    Swiftly flies each deity,
   And o'er Ilion's walls ill-fated
    Thunder-clouds loom heavily!
 

THE HOSTAGE.
A BALLAD

 
   The tyrant Dionys to seek,
    Stern Moerus with his poniard crept;
    The watchful guard upon him swept;
   The grim king marked his changeless cheek:
   "What wouldst thou with thy poniard? Speak!"
   "The city from the tyrant free!"
   "The death-cross shall thy guerdon be."
 
 
   "I am prepared for death, nor pray,"
    Replied that haughty man, "I to live;
    Enough, if thou one grace wilt give
   For three brief suns the death delay
   To wed my sister — leagues away;
   I boast one friend whose life for mine,
   If I should fail the cross, is thine."
 
 
   The tyrant mused, — and smiled, — and said
    With gloomy craft, "So let it be;
    Three days I will vouchsafe to thee.
   But mark — if, when the time be sped,
   Thou fail'st — thy surety dies instead.
   His life shall buy thine own release;
   Thy guilt atoned, my wrath shall cease."
 
 
   He sought his friend — "The king's decree
    Ordains my life the cross upon
    Shall pay the deed I would have done;
   Yet grants three days' delay to me,
   My sister's marriage-rites to see;
   If thou, the hostage, wilt remain
   Till I — set free — return again!"
 
 
   His friend embraced — No word he said,
    But silent to the tyrant strode —
    The other went upon his road.
   Ere the third sun in heaven was red,
   The rite was o'er, the sister wed;
   And back, with anxious heart unquailing,
   He hastes to hold the pledge unfailing.
 
 
   Down the great rains unending bore,
    Down from the hills the torrents rushed,
    In one broad stream the brooklets gushed.
   The wanderer halts beside the shore,
   The bridge was swept the tides before —
   The shattered arches o'er and under
   Went the tumultuous waves in thunder.
 
 
   Dismayed he takes his idle stand —
    Dismayed, he strays and shouts around;
    His voice awakes no answering sound.
   No boat will leave the sheltering strand,
   To bear him to the wished-for land;
   No boatman will Death's pilot be;
   The wild stream gathers to a sea!
 
 
   Sunk by the banks, awhile he weeps,
    Then raised his arms to Jove, and cried,
    "Stay thou, oh stay the maddening tide;
   Midway behold the swift sun sweeps,
   And, ere he sinks adown the deeps,
   If I should fail, his beams will see
   My friend's last anguish — slain for me!"
 
 
   More fierce it runs, more broad it flows,
    And wave on wave succeeds and dies
    And hour on hour remorseless flies;
   Despair at last to daring grows —
   Amidst the flood his form he throws;
   With vigorous arms the roaring waves
   Cleaves — and a God that pities, saves.
 
 
   He wins the bank — he scours the strand,
    He thanks the God in breathless prayer;
    When from the forest's gloomy lair,
   With ragged club in ruthless hand,
   And breathing murder — rushed the band
   That find, in woods, their savage den,
   And savage prey in wandering men.
 
 
   "What," cried he, pale with generous fear;
    "What think to gain ye by the strife?
    All I bear with me is my life —
   I take it to the king!" — and here
   He snatched the club from him most near:
   And thrice he smote, and thrice his blows
   Dealt death — before him fly the foes!
 
 
   The sun is glowing as a brand;
    And faint before the parching heat,
    The strength forsakes the feeble feet:
   "Thou hast saved me from the robbers' hand,
   Through wild floods given the blessed land;
   And shall the weak limbs fail me now?
   And he! — Divine one, nerve me, thou!"
 
 
   Hark! like some gracious murmur by,
    Babbles low music, silver-clear —
    The wanderer holds his breath to hear;
   And from the rock, before his eye,
   Laughs forth the spring delightedly;
   Now the sweet waves he bends him o'er,
   And the sweet waves his strength restore.
 
 
   Through the green boughs the sun gleams dying,
    O'er fields that drink the rosy beam,
    The trees' huge shadows giant seem.
   Two strangers on the road are hieing;
   And as they fleet beside him flying,
   These muttered words his ear dismay:
   "Now — now the cross has claimed its prey!"
 
 
   Despair his winged path pursues,
    The anxious terrors hound him on —
    There, reddening in the evening sun,
   From far, the domes of Syracuse! —
   When towards him comes Philostratus
   (His leal and trusty herdsman he),
   And to the master bends his knee.
 
 
   "Back — thou canst aid thy friend no more,
    The niggard time already flown —
    His life is forfeit — save thine own!
   Hour after hour in hope he bore,
   Nor might his soul its faith give o'er;
   Nor could the tyrant's scorn deriding,
   Steal from that faith one thought confiding!"
 
 
   "Too late! what horror hast thou spoken!
    Vain life, since it cannot requite him!
    But death with me can yet unite him;
   No boast the tyrant's scorn shall make —
   How friend to friend can faith forsake.
   But from the double death shall know,
   That truth and love yet live below!"
 
 
   The sun sinks down — the gate's in view,
    The cross looms dismal on the ground —
    The eager crowd gape murmuring round.
   His friend is bound the cross unto..
   Crowd — guards — all bursts he breathless through:
   "Me! Doomsman, me!" he shouts, "alone!
   His life is rescued — lo, mine own!"
 
 
   Amazement seized the circling ring!
    Linked in each other's arms the pair —
    Weeping for joy — yet anguish there!
   Moist every eye that gazed; — they bring
   The wondrous tidings to the king —
   His breast man's heart at last hath known,
   And the friends stand before his throne.
 
 
   Long silent, he, and wondering long,
    Gazed on the pair — "In peace depart,
    Victors, ye have subdued my heart!
   Truth is no dream! — its power is strong.
   Give grace to him who owns his wrong!
   'Tis mine your suppliant now to be,
   Ah, let the band of love — be three!" ²³
 

GREEKISM

 
   Scarce has the fever so chilly of Gallomania departed,
   When a more burning attack in Grecomania breaks out.
   Greekism, — what did it mean? — 'Twas harmony, reason, and clearness!
   Patience, — good gentlemen, pray, ere ye of Greekism speak!
   'Tis for an excellent cause ye are fighting, and all that I ask for
   Is that with reason it ne'er may be a laughing-stock made.
 

THE DIVER.
A BALLAD

 
   "What knight or what vassal will be so bold
    As to plunge in the gulf below?
   See! I hurl in its depths a goblet of gold,
    Already the waters over it flow.
   The man who can bring back the goblet to me,
   May keep it henceforward, — his own it shall be."
 
 
   Thus speaks the king, and he hurls from the height
    Of the cliffs that, rugged and steep,
   Hang over the boundless sea, with strong might,
    The goblet afar, in the bellowing deep.
   "And who'll be so daring, — I ask it once more, —
   As to plunge in these billows that wildly roar?"
 
 
   And the vassals and knights of high degree
    Hear his words, but silent remain.
   They cast their eyes on the raging sea,
    And none will attempt the goblet to gain.
   And a third time the question is asked by the king:
   "Is there none that will dare in the gulf now to spring?"
 
 
   Yet all as before in silence stand,
    When a page, with a modest pride,
   Steps out of the timorous squirely band,
    And his girdle and mantle soon throws aside,
   And all the knights, and the ladies too,
   The noble stripling with wonderment view.
 
 
   And when he draws nigh to the rocky brow,
    And looks in the gulf so black,
   The waters that she had swallowed but now,
    The howling Charybdis is giving back;
   And, with the distant thunder's dull sound.
   From her gloomy womb they all-foaming rebound.
 
 
   And it boils and it roars, and it hisses and seethes,
    As when water and fire first blend;
   To the sky spurts the foam in steam-laden wreaths,
    And wave presses hard upon wave without end.
   And the ocean will never exhausted be,
   As if striving to bring forth another sea.
 
 
   But at length the wild tumult seems pacified,
    And blackly amid the white swell
   A gaping chasm its jaws opens wide,
    As if leading down to the depths of hell:
   And the howling billows are seen by each eye
   Down the whirling funnel all madly to fly.
 
 
   Then quickly, before the breakers rebound,
    The stripling commends him to Heaven,
   And — a scream of horror is heard around, —
    And now by the whirlpool away he is driven,
   And secretly over the swimmer brave
   Close the jaws, and he vanishes 'neath the dark wave.
 
 
   O'er the watery gulf dread silence now lies,
    But the deep sends up a dull yell,
   And from mouth to mouth thus trembling it flies:
    "Courageous stripling, oh, fare thee well!"
   And duller and duller the howls recommence,
   While they pause in anxious and fearful suspense.
 
 
   "If even thy crown in the gulf thou shouldst fling,
    And shouldst say, 'He who brings it to me
   Shall wear it henceforward, and be the king,'
    Thou couldst tempt me not e'en with that precious foe;
   What under the howling deep is concealed
   To no happy living soul is revealed!"
 
 
   Full many a ship, by the whirlpool held fast,
    Shoots straightway beneath the mad wave,
   And, dashed to pieces, the hull and the mast
    Emerge from the all-devouring grave, —
   And the roaring approaches still nearer and nearer,
   Like the howl of the tempest, still clearer and clearer.
 
 
   And it boils and it roars, and it hisses and seethes,
    As when water and fire first blend;
   To the sky spurts the foam in steam-laden wreaths,
    And wave passes hard upon wave without end.
   And, with the distant thunder's dull sound,
   From the ocean-womb they all-bellowing bound.
 
 
   And lo! from the darkly flowing tide
   Comes a vision white as a swan,
   And an arm and a glistening neck are descried,
   With might and with active zeal steering on;
   And 'tis he, and behold! his left hand on high
   Waves the goblet, while beaming with joy is his eye.
 
 
   Then breathes he deeply, then breathes he long,
   And blesses the light of the day;
   While gladly exclaim to each other the throng:
   "He lives! he is here! he is not the sea's prey!
   From the tomb, from the eddying waters' control,
   The brave one has rescued his living soul!"
 
 
   And he comes, and they joyously round him stand;
    At the feet of the monarch he falls, —
   The goblet he, kneeling, puts in his hand,
    And the king to his beauteous daughter calls,
   Who fills it with sparkling wine to the brim;
   The youth turns to the monarch, and speaks thus to him:
 
 
   "Long life to the king! Let all those be glad
    Who breathe in the light of the sky!
   For below all is fearful, of moment sad;
    Let not man to tempt the immortals e'er try,
   Let him never desire the thing to see
   That with terror and night they veil graciously."
 
 
   "I was torn below with the speed of light,
    When out of a cavern of rock
   Rushed towards me a spring with furious might;
    I was seized by the twofold torrent's wild shock,
   And like a top, with a whirl and a bound,
   Despite all resistance, was whirled around."
 
 
   "Then God pointed out, — for to Him I cried
    In that terrible moment of need, —
   A craggy reef in the gulf's dark side;
    I seized it in haste, and from death was then freed.
   And there, on sharp corals, was hanging the cup, —
   The fathomless pit had else swallowed it up."
 
 
   "For under me lay it, still mountain-deep,
    In a darkness of purple-tinged dye,
   And though to the ear all might seem then asleep
    With shuddering awe 'twas seen by the eye
   How the salamanders' and dragons' dread forms
   Filled those terrible jaws of hell with their swarms."
 
 
   "There crowded, in union fearful and black,
    In a horrible mass entwined,
   The rock-fish, the ray with the thorny back,
    And the hammer-fish's misshapen kind,
   And the shark, the hyena dread of the sea,
   With his angry teeth, grinned fiercely on me."
 
 
   "There hung I, by fulness of terror possessed,
    Where all human aid was unknown,
   Amongst phantoms, the only sensitive breast,
    In that fearful solitude all alone,
   Where the voice of mankind could not reach to mine ear,
   'Mid the monsters foul of that wilderness drear."
 
 
   "Thus shuddering methought — when a something crawled near,
    And a hundred limbs it out-flung,
   And at me it snapped; — in my mortal fear,
    I left hold of the coral to which I had clung;
   Then the whirlpool seized on me with maddened roar,
   Yet 'twas well, for it brought me to light once more."
 
 
   The story in wonderment hears the king,
    And he says, "The cup is thine own,
   And I purpose also to give thee this ring,
    Adorned with a costly, a priceless stone,
   If thou'lt try once again, and bring word to me
   What thou saw'st in the nethermost depths of the sea."
 
 
   His daughter hears this with emotions soft,
    And with flattering accent prays she:
   "That fearful sport, father, attempt not too oft!
    What none other would dare, he hath ventured for thee;
   If thy heart's wild longings thou canst not tame,
   Let the knights, if they can, put the squire to shame."
 
 
   The king then seizes the goblet in haste,
    In the gulf he hurls it with might:
   "When the goblet once more in my hands thou hast placed,
    Thou shalt rank at my court as the noblest knight,
   And her as a bride thou shalt clasp e'en to-day,
   Who for thee with tender compassion doth pray."
 
 
   Then a force, as from Heaven, descends on him there,
    And lightning gleams in his eye,
   And blushes he sees on her features so fair,
    And he sees her turn pale, and swooning lie;
   Then eager the precious guerdon to win,
   For life or for death, lo! he plunges him in!
 
 
   The breakers they hear, and the breakers return,
    Proclaimed by a thundering sound;
   They bend o'er the gulf with glances that yearn,
    And the waters are pouring in fast around;
   Though upwards and downwards they rush and they rave,
   The youth is brought back by no kindly wave.