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GENIUS (1795)

 
  Do I believe, thou ask'st, the Master's word,
  The Schoolman's shibboleth that binds the herd?
  To the soul's haven is there but one chart?
  Its peace a problem to be learned by art?
  On system rest the happy and the good?
  To base the temple must the props be wood?
  Must I distrust the gentle law, imprest,
  To guide and warn, by Nature on the breast,
  Till, squared to rule the instinct of the soul,—
  Till the School's signet stamp the eternal scroll,
  Till in one mold some dogma hath confined
  The ebb and flow—the light waves—of the mind?
  Say thou, familiar to these depths of gloom,
  Thou, safe ascended from the dusty tomb,
  Thou, who hast trod these weird Egyptian cells—
  Say—if Life's comfort with yon mummies dwells!—
  Say—and I grope—with saddened steps indeed—
  But on, thro' darkness, if to Truth it lead!
    Nay, Friend, thou know'st the golden time—the age
  Whose legends live in many a poet's page?
  When heavenlier shapes with Man walked side by side,
  And the chaste Feeling was itself a guide;
  Then the great law, alike divine amid
  Suns bright in Heaven, or germs in darkness hid—
  That silent law—(call'd whether by the name
  Of Nature or Necessity, the same),
  To that deep sea, the heart, its movement gave—
  Sway'd the full tide, and freshened the free wave.
  Then sense unerring—because unreproved—
  True as the finger on the dial moved,
  Half-guide, half-playmate, of Earth's age of youth,
  The sportive instinct of Eternal Truth.
  Then, nor Initiate nor Profane were known;
  Where the Heart felt—there Reason found a throne:
  Not from the dust below, but life around
  Warm Genius shaped what quick Emotion found.
  One rule, like light, for every bosom glowed,
  Yet hid from all the fountain whence it flowed.
  But, gone that blessed Age!—our wilful pride
  Has lost, with Nature, the old peaceful Guide.
  Feeling, no more to raise us and rejoice,
  Is heard and honored as a Godhead's voice;
  And, disenhallowed in its eldest cell
  The Human Heart—lies mute the Oracle,
  Save where the low and mystic whispers thrill
  Some listening spirit more divinely still.
  There, in the chambers of the inmost heart,
  There, must the Sage explore the Magian's art;
  There, seek the long-lost Nature's steps to track,
  Till, found once more, she gives him Wisdom back!
  Hast thou—(O Blest, if so, whate'er betide!)—
  Still kept the Guardian Angel by thy side?
  Can thy Heart's guileless childhood yet rejoice
  In the sweet instinct with its warning voice?
  Does Truth yet limn upon untroubled eyes,
  Pure and serene, her world of Iris-dies?
  Rings clear the echo which her accent calls
  Back from the breast, on which the music falls?
  In the calm mind is doubt yet hush'd—and will
  That doubt tomorrow, as today, be still?
  Will all these fine sensations in their play,
  No censor need to regulate and sway?
  Fear'st thou not in the insidious Heart to find
  The source of Trouble to the limpid mind?
    No!—then thine Innocence thy Mentor be!
  Science can teach thee naught—she learns from thee!
  Each law that lends lame succor to the Weak—
  The cripple's crutch—the vigorous need not seek!
  From thine own self thy rule of action draw;
  That which thou dost—what charms thee—is thy Law,
  And founds to every race a code sublime—
  What pleases Genius gives a Law to Time!
  The Word—the Deed—all Ages shall command,
  Pure if thy lip and holy if thy hand!
  Thou, thou alone mark'st not within thy heart
  The inspiring God whose Minister thou art,
  Know'st not the magic of the mighty ring
  Which bows the realm of Spirits to their King:
  But meek, nor conscious of diviner birth,
  Glide thy still footsteps thro' the conquered Earth!
 

* * * * *

VOTIVE TABLETS

[Under this title Schiller arranged that more dignified and philosophical portion of the small Poems published as Epigrams in the Musen Almanach; which rather sought to point a general thought, than a personal satire.—Many of these, however, are either wholly without interest for the English reader, or express in almost untranslatable laconism what, in far more poetical shapes, Schiller has elsewhere repeated and developed. We, therefore, content ourselves with such a selection as appears to us best suited to convey a fair notion of the object and spirit of the class.—Translator]

* * * * *

MOTTO TO THE VOTIVE TABLETS

 
  What the God taught—what has befriended all
  Life's ways, I place upon the Votive Wall.
 

* * * * *

THE GOOD AND THE BEAUTIFUL

(ZWEIERLEI WIRKUNGSARTEN)

 
  The Good's the Flower to Earth already given—
    The Beautiful, on Earth sows flowers from Heaven!
 

* * * * *

VALUE AND WORTH

 
  If thou hast something, bring thy goods—a fair return be thine;
  If thou art something, bring thy soul and interchange with mine.
 

* * * * *

THE KEY

 
  To know thyself—in others self discern;
  Wouldst thou know others? Read thyself—and learn!
 

* * * * *

THE DIVISION OF RANKS

 
  Yes, in the moral world, as ours, we see
  Divided grades—a Soul's Nobility;
  By deeds their titles Commoners create—
  The loftier order are by birthright great.[5]
 

* * * * *

TO THE MYSTIC

 
  Spreads Life's true mystery round us evermore,
  Seen by no eye, it lies all eyes before.
 

* * * * *

WISDOM AND PRUDENCE

 
  Wouldst thou the loftiest height of Wisdom gain?
  On to the rashness, Prudence would disdain;
  The purblind see but the receding shore,
  Not that to which the bold wave wafts thee o'er!
 

* * * * *

THE UNANIMITY

 
  Truth seek we both—Thou, in the life without thee and around;
  I in the Heart within—by both can Truth alike be found;
  The healthy eye can through the world the great Creator track—
  The healthy heart is but the glass which gives creation back.
 

* * * * *

THE SCIENCE OF POLITICS

 
  All that thou dost be right—to that alone confine thy view,
  And halt within the certain rule—the All that's right to do!
  True zeal the what already is would sound and perfect see;
  False zeal would sound and perfect make the something that's to be!
 

* * * * *

TO ASTRONOMERS

 
  Of the Nebulæ and planets do not babble so to me;
  What! is Nature only mighty inasmuch as you can see?
  Inasmuch as you can measure her immeasurable ways,
  As she renders world on world, sun and system to your gaze?
  Though through space your object be the Sublimest to embrace,
  Never the Sublime abideth—where you vainly search—in space!
 

* * * * *

THE BEST GOVERNED STATE

 
  How the best state to know?—It is found out,
  Like the best women—that least talked about.
 

* * * * *

MY BELIEF

 
  What thy religion? Those thou namest—none!
  None! Why?—Because I have religion!
 

* * * * *

FRIEND AND FOE

 
  Dear is my friend—yet from my foe, as from my friend, comes good;
  My friend shows what I can do, and my foe shows what I should.
 

* * * * *

LIGHT AND COLOR

 
  Dwell, Light, beside the changeless God—God spoke and Light began;
  Come, thou, the ever-changing one—come, Color, down to Man!
 

* * * * *

FORUM OF WOMEN

 
  Woman—to judge man rightly—do not scan
  Each separate act;—pass judgment on the Man!
 

* * * * *

GENIUS

 
  Intellect can repeat what's been fulfill'd,
  And, aping Nature, as she buildeth—build;
  O'er Nature's base can haughty Reason dare
  To pile its lofty castle—in the air.
  But only thine, O Genius, is the charge,
  In Nature's kingdom Nature to enlarge!
 

* * * * *

THE IMITATOR

 
  Good out of good—that art is known to all—
  But Genius from the bad the good can call;
  Then, Mimic, not from leading-strings escaped,
  Work'st but the matter that's already shaped
  The already-shaped a nobler hand awaits—
  All matter asks a Spirit that creates!
 

* * * * *

CORRECTNESS

(FREE TRANSLATION)

 
  The calm correctness, where no fault we see,
  Attests Art's loftiest or its least degree;
  Alike the smoothness of the surface shows
  The Pool's dull stagner—the great Sea's repose.
 

* * * * *

THE MASTER

 
  The herd of scribes, by what they tell us,
  Show all in which their wits excel us;
  But the True Master we behold,
  In what his art leaves—just untold.
 

* * * * *

EXPECTATION AND FULFILLMENT

 
  O'er Ocean, with a thousand masts, sails forth the stripling bold—
  One boat, hard rescued from the deep, draws into port the old!
 

* * * * *

THE PROSELYTE MAKER

 
  "A little earth from out the Earth-and I
  The Earth will move:" so spake the Sage divine.
  Out of myself one little moment—try
  Myself to take:—succeed, and I am thine!
 

* * * * *

THE CONNECTING MEDIUM

 
  What to cement the lofty and the mean
  Does Nature?—What?—Place vanity between?
 

* * * * *

THE MORAL POET

[This is an Epigram on Lavater's work, called "Pontius Pilatus, oder der

Mensch in Allen Gestalten," etc.—TRANSLATOR.]

 
  "How poor a thing is man!" Alas, 'tis true
  I'd half forgot it—when I chanced on you!
 

* * * * *

THE SUBLIME THEME

[Also on Lavater, and alluding to the "Jesus Messias, oder die Evangelien und Apostelgeschichte in Gesängen."—TRANSLATOR.]

 
  How God compassionates Mankind, thy muse, my friend, rehearses—
  Compassion for the sins of Man!—What comfort for thy verses!
 

* * * * *

SCIENCE

 
  To some she is the Goddess great, to some the milch-cow of the field;
  Their care is but to calculate—what butter she will yield.
 

* * * * *

KANT AND HIS COMMENTATORS

 
  How many starvelings one rich man can nourish!
  When monarchs build, the rubbish-carriers flourish.
 

* * * * *

THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR (1796)

 
  Within a vale, each infant year,
    When earliest larks first carol free,
  To humble shepherds doth appear
    A wondrous maiden, fair to see.
  Not born within that lowly place—
    From whence she wander'd, none could tell;
  Her parting footsteps left no trace,
    When once the maiden bade farewell.
  And blessèd 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 cull'd her rarest sweets whene'er
    She saw two hearts that loved draw near.
 

* * * * *

THE GLOVE (1797)

A TALE

 
  Before his lion-court,
  To see the gruesome sport,
    Sate the king;
  Beside him group'd his princely peers;
  And dames aloft, in circling tiers,
    Wreath'd round their blooming ring.
    King Francis, where he sate,
    Raised a finger—yawn'd the gate,
    And, slow from his repose,
    A LION goes!
    Dumbly he gazed around
    The foe-encircled ground;
    And, with a lazy gape,
    He stretch'd his lordly shape,
    And shook his careless mane,
    And—laid him down again!
      A finger raised the king—
    And nimbly have the guard
    A second gate unbarr'd;
      Forth, with a rushing spring,
          A TIGER sprung!
    Wildly the wild one yell'd
    When the lion he beheld;
    And, bristling at the look,
    With his tail his sides he strook,
          And roll'd his rabid tongue;
  In many a wary ring
  He swept round the forest king,
    With a fell and rattling sound;—
    And laid him on the ground,
        Grommelling!
  The king raised his finger; then
  Leap'd two LEOPARDS from the den
    With a bound;
  And boldly bounded they
  Where the crouching tiger lay
    Terrible!
  And he gripped the beasts in his deadly hold;
  In the grim embrace they grappled and roll'd;
    Rose the lion with a roar!
    And stood the strife before;
    And the wild-cats on the spot,
    From the blood-thirst, wroth and hot,
      Halted still!
  Now from the balcony above,
  A snowy hand let fall a glove:—
  Midway between the beasts of prey,
  Lion and tiger; there it lay,
    The winsome lady's glove!
 

Fair Cunigonde said, with a lip of scorn,

To the knight DELORGES—"If the love you have sworn

Were as gallant and leal as you boast it to be,

I might ask you to bring back that glove to me!"

The knight left the place where the lady sate;

The knight he has pass'd thro' the fearful gate;

The lion and tiger he stoop'd above,

And his fingers have closed on the lady's glove!

All shuddering and stunn'd, they beheld him there—

The noble knights and the ladies fair;

But loud was the joy and the praise, the while

He bore back the glove with his tranquil smile!

With a tender look in her softening eyes,

That promised reward to his warmest sighs,

Fair Cunigonde rose her knight to grace;

He toss'd the glove in the lady's face!

"Nay, spare me the guerdon, at least," quoth he;

And he left forever that fair ladye!

* * * * *

THE DIVER (1797)

A BALLAD

[The original of the story on which Schiller has founded this ballad, matchless perhaps for the power and grandeur of its descriptions, is to be found in Kircher. According to the true principles of imitative art, Schiller has preserved all that is striking in the legend, and ennobled all that is common-place. The name of the Diver was Nicholas, surnamed the Fish. The King appears, according to Hoffmeister's probable conjectures, to have been either Frederic I. or Frederic II., of Sicily. Date from 1295 to 1377.]

 
   "Oh, where is the knight or the squire so bold,
    As to dive to the howling charybdis below?—
  I cast in the whirlpool a goblet of gold,
    And o'er it already the dark waters flow;
  Whoever to me may the goblet bring,
  Shall have for his guerdon that gift of his king."
  He spoke, and the cup from the terrible steep,
    That, rugged and hoary, hung over the verge
  Of the endless and measureless world of the deep,
    Swirl'd into the maëlstrom that madden'd the surge.
   "And where is the diver so stout to go—
  I ask ye again—to the deep below?"
  And the knights and the squires that gather'd around,
    Stood silent—and fix'd on the ocean their eyes;
  They look'd on the dismal and savage Profound,
    And the peril chill'd back every thought of the prize.
  And thrice spoke the monarch—"The cup to win,
  Is there never a wight who will venture in?"
  And all as before heard in silence the king—
    Till a youth with an aspect unfearing but gentle,
  'Mid the tremulous squires—stept out from the ring,
    Unbuckling his girdle, and doffing his mantle;
  And the murmuring crowd as they parted asunder,
  On the stately boy cast their looks of wonder.
  As he strode to the marge of the summit, and gave
    One glance on the gulf of that merciless main;
  Lo! the wave that forever devours the wave
    Casts roaringly up the charybdis again;
  And, as with the swell of the far thunder-boom,
  Rushes foamingly forth from the heart of the gloom.
  And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,[6]
    As when fire is with water commix'd and contending,
  And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
    And flood upon flood hurries on, never-ending.
  And it never will rest, nor from travail be free,
  Like a sea that is laboring the birth of a sea.
  Yet, at length, comes a lull O'er the mighty commotion,
  As the whirlpool sucks into black smoothness the swell
  Of the white-foaming breakers—and cleaves thro' the ocean
  A path that seems winding in darkness to hell.
  Round and round whirl'd the waves-deeper and deeper
  still driven,
  Like a gorge thro' the mountainous main thunder-riven!
  The youth gave his trust to his Maker! Before
    That path through the riven abyss closed again—
  Hark! a shriek from the crowd rang aloft from the shore,
    And, behold! he is whirl'd in the grasp of the main!
  And o'er him the breakers mysteriously roll'd,
  And the giant-mouth closed on the swimmer so bold.
  O'er the surface grim silence lay dark; but the crowd
    Heard the wail from the deep murmur hollow and fell;
  They hearken and shudder, lamenting aloud—
    "Gallant youth-noble heart-fare-thee-well, fare-thee-well!"
  More hollow and more wails the deep on the ear—
  More dread and more dread grows suspense in its fear.
  If thou should'st in those waters thy diadem fling,
    And cry, "Who may find it shall win it and wear;"
  God wot, though the prize were the crown of a king—
    A crown at such hazard were valued too dear.
  For never shall lips of the living reveal
  What the deeps that howl yonder in terror conceal.
  Oh, many a bark, to that breast grappled fast,
    Has gone down to the fearful and fathomless grave;
  Again, crash'd together the keel and the mast,
    To be seen, toss'd aloft in the glee of the wave.
  Like the growth of a storm, ever louder and clearer,
  Grows the roar of the gulf rising nearer and nearer.
  And it bubbles and seethes, and it hisses and roars,
    As when fire is with water commix'd and contending;
  And the spray of its wrath to the welkin up-soars,
    And flood upon flood hurries on, never ending;
  And as with the swell of the far thunder-boom
  Rushes roaringly forth from the heart of the gloom.
  And, lo! from the heart of that far-floating gloom,[7]
    What gleams on the darkness so swanlike and white?
  Lo! an arm and a neck, glancing up from the tomb!—
    They battle—the Man's with the Element's might.
  It is he—it is he! In his left hand, behold!
  As a sign!—as a joy!—shines the goblet of gold!
  And he breathed deep, and he breathed long,
    And he greeted the heavenly delight of the day.
  They gaze on each other—they shout, as they throng—
    "He lives—lo the ocean has render'd its prey!
  And safe from the whirlpool and free from the grave,
  Comes back to the daylight the soul of the brave!"
  And he comes, with the crowd in their clamor and glee,
    And the goblet his daring has won from the water,
  He lifts to the king as he sinks on his knee;—
    And the king from her maidens has beckon'd his daughter—
  She pours to the boy the bright wine which they bring,
  And thus spake the Diver—"Long life to the king!
  "Happy they whom the rose-hues of daylight rejoice,
    The air and the sky that to mortals are given!
  May the horror below never more find a voice—
    Nor Man stretch too far the wide mercy of Heaven!
  Never more—never more may he lift from the sight
  The veil which is woven with Terror and Night!
  "Quick-brightening like lightning—it tore me along,
    Down, down, till the gush of a torrent, at play
  In the rocks of its wilderness, caught me—and strong
    As the wings of an eagle, it whirl'd me away.
  Vain, vain was my struggle—the circle had won me,
  Round and round in its dance, the wild element spun me.
  "And I call'd on my God, and my God heard my prayer
    In the strength of my need, in the gasp of my breath—
  And show'd me a crag that rose up from the lair,
    And I clung to it, nimbly—and baffled the death!
  And, safe in the perils around me, behold
  On the spikes of the coral the goblet of gold!
  "Below, at the foot of the precipice drear,
    Spread the gloomy, and purple, and pathless Obscure!
  A silence of Horror that slept on the ear,
    That the eye more appall'd might the Horror endure!
  Salamander—snake—dragon—vast reptiles that dwell
  In the deep-coil'd about the grim jaws of their hell.
  "Dark-crawl'd—glided dark the unspeakable swarms,
    Clump'd together in masses, misshapen and vast—
  Here clung and here bristled the fashionless forms—
    Here the dark-moving bulk of the Hammer-fish pass'd—
  And with teeth grinning white, and a menacing motion,
  Went the terrible Shark—the Hyena of Ocean.
  "There I hung, and the awe gather'd icily o'er me,
    So far from the earth, where man's help there was none!
  The One Human Thing, with the Goblins before me—
    Alone—in a loneness so ghastly—ALONE!
  Fathom-deep from man's eye in the speechless profound,
  With the death of the Main and the Monsters around.
  "Methought, as I gazed through the darkness, that now
    IT[8] saw—the dread hundred-limbed creature-its prey!
  And darted—O God! from the far flaming-bough
    Of the coral, I swept on the horrible way;
  And it seized me, the wave with its wrath and its roar,
  It seized me to save—King, the danger is o'er!"
  On the youth gazed the monarch, and marvel'd; quoth he,
    "Bold Diver, the goblet I promised is thine,
  And this ring will I give, a fresh guerdon to thee,
    Never jewels more precious shone up from the mine,
  If thou'lt bring me fresh tidings, and venture again
  To tell what lies hid in the innermost main?"
  Then outspake the daughter in tender emotion
    "Ah! father, my father, what more can there rest?
  Enough of this sport with the pitiless ocean—
    He has served thee as none would, thyself has confest.
  If nothing can slake thy wild thirst of desire,
  Let thy knights put to shame the exploit of the squire!"
  The king seized the goblet—he swung it on high,
    And whirling, it fell in the roar of the tide:
  "But bring back that goblet again to my eye,
    And I'll hold thee the dearest that rides by my side;
  And thine arms shall embrace, as thy bride, I decree,
  The maiden whose pity now pleadeth for thee."
  In his heart, as he listen'd, there leapt the wild joy—
    And the hope and the love through his eyes spoke in fire,
  On that bloom, on that blush, gazed delighted the boy;
    The maiden-she faints at the feet of her sire!
  Here the guerdon divine, there the danger beneath;
  He resolves! To the strife with the life and the death!
  They hear the loud surges sweep back in their swell,
    Their coming the thunder-sound heralds along!
  Fond eyes yet are tracking the spot where he fell:
    They come, the wild waters, in tumult and throng,
  Roaring up to the cliff—roaring back, as before,
  But no wave ever brings the lost youth to the shore.
 

* * * *