The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume I Part 7

Yonder mountain's pride so stately Thou dost shame like dawn's red glow; And its spell once more bids Hatem Thrill of spring and summer know.

Once more fill the gla.s.s, the flagon!

Let me drink to my desire.

If she find a heap of ashes, Say, "He perished in her fire!"

REUNION[26] (1815)

Can it be, O star transcendent, That I fold thee to my breast?

Now I know, what depths of anguish May in parting be expressed.

Yes, 'tis thou, of all my blisses Lovely, loving partner--thou!

Mindful of my bygone sorrows, E'en the present awes me now.

When the world in first conception Lay in G.o.d's eternal mind, In creative power delighting He the primal hour designed.

When he gave command for being, Then was heard a mighty sigh Full of pain, as all creation Broke into reality.

Up then sprang the light; and darkness Doubtful stood apart to gaze; All the elements, dividing Swiftly, took their several ways.

In confused, disordered dreaming Strove they all for freedom's range-- Each for self, no fellow-feeling; Single each, and cold and strange.

Lo, a marvel--G.o.d was lonely!

All was still and cold and dumb.

So he framed dawn's rosy blushes Whence should consolation come-- To refresh the troubled spirit Harmonies of color sweet: What had erst been forced asunder Now at last could love and meet.

Then, ah then, of life unbounded Sight and feeling pa.s.sed the gates; Then, ah then, with eager striving Kindred atoms sought their mates.

Gently, roughly they may seize them, So they catch and hold them fast: "We," they cry, "are now creators-- Allah now may rest at last!"

So with rosy wings of morning Towards thy lips my being moves; Sets the starry night a thousand Glowing seals upon our loves.

We are as we should be--parted Ne'er on earth in joy or pain; And no second word creative E'er can sunder us again!

PROOEMION[27] (1816)

In His blest name, who was His own creation, Who from all time makes _making_ His vocation; The name of Him who makes our faith so bright, Love, confidence, activity, and might; In that One's name, who, named though oft He be, Unknown is ever in Reality: As far as ear can reach, or eyesight dim, Thou findest but the known resembling Him; How high soe'er thy fiery spirit hovers, Its simile and type it straight discovers; Onward thou'rt drawn, with feelings light and gay, Where e'er thou goest, smiling is the way; No more thou numberest, reckonest no time, Each step is infinite, each step sublime.

What G.o.d would _outwardly_ alone control, And on His finger whirl the mighty Whole?

He loves the _inner_ world to move, to view Nature in Him, Himself in Nature, too, So that what in Him works, and is, and lives, The measure of His strength, His spirit gives.

Within us all a universe doth dwell; And hence each people's usage laudable, That every one the Best that meets his eyes As G.o.d, yea, e'en _his_ G.o.d, doth recognize; To Him both earth and heaven surrenders he, Fears Him, and loves Him, too, if that may be.

THE ONE AND THE ALL[28] (1821)

Called to a new employ in boundless s.p.a.ce, The lonely monad quits its 'customed place And from life's weary round contented flees.

No more of pa.s.sionate striving, will perverse And hampering obligations, long a curse: Free self-abandonment at last gives peace.

Soul of the world, come pierce our being through!

Across the drift of things our way to hew Is our appointed task, our n.o.blest war.

Good spirits by our destined pathway still Lead gently on, best masters of our will, Toward that which made and makes all things that are.

To shape for further ends what now has breath, Let nothing harden into ice and death, Works endless living action everywhere.

What has not yet existed strives for birth-- Toward purer suns, more glorious-colored earth: To rest in idle stillness naught may dare.

All must move onward, help transform the ma.s.s, a.s.sume a form, to yet another pa.s.s; 'Tis but in seeming aught is fixed or still.

In all things moves the eternal restless Thought; For all, when comes the hour, must fall to naught If to persist in being is its will.

LINES ON SEEING SCHILLER'S SKULL[30] (1826)

[This curious imitation of the ternary metre of Dante was written at the age of seventy-seven.]

Within a gloomy charnel-house one day I viewed the countless skulls, so strangely mated, And of old times I thought that now were gray.

Close packed they stand that once so fiercely hated, And hardy bones that to the death contended, Are lying crossed,--to lie forever, fated.

What held those crooked shoulder-blades suspended?

No one now asks; and limbs with vigor fired, The hand, the foot--their use in life is ended.

Vainly ye sought the tomb for rest when tired; Peace in the grave may not be yours; ye're driven Back into daylight by a force inspired; But none can love the withered husk, though even A glorious n.o.ble kernel it contained.

To me, an adept, was the writing given Which not to all its holy sense explained.

When 'mid the crowd, their icy shadows flinging, I saw a form that glorious still remained, And even there, where mould and damp were clinging, Gave me a blest, a rapture-fraught emotion, As though from death a living fount were springing.

What mystic joy I felt! What rapt devotion!

That form, how pregnant with a G.o.dlike trace!

A look, how did it whirl me toward that ocean Whose rolling billows mightier shapes embrace!

Mysterious vessel! Oracle how dear!

Even to grasp thee is my hand too base, Except to steal thee from thy prison here With pious purpose, and devoutly go Back to the air, free thoughts, and sunlight clear.

What greater gain in life can man e'er know Than when G.o.d-Nature will to him explain How into Spirit steadfastness may flow, How steadfast, too, the Spirit-Born remain.

A LEGACY[31] (1829)

No living atom comes at last to naught!

Active in each is still the eternal Thought: Hold fast to Being if thou wouldst be blest.

Being is without end; for changeless laws Bind that from which the All its glory draws Of living treasures endlessly possessed.

Unto the wise of old this truth was known, Such wisdom knit their n.o.ble souls in one; Then hold thou still the lore of ancient days!

To that high power thou ow'st it, son of man, By whose decree the earth its circuit ran And all the planets went their various ways.

Then inward turn at once thy searching eyes;

Thence shalt thou see the central truth arise From which no lofty soul goes e'er astray; There shalt thou miss no needful guiding sign-- For conscience lives, and still its light divine Shall be the sun of all thy moral day.

Next shalt thou trust thy senses' evidence, And fear from them no treacherous offence While the mind's watchful eye thy road commands: With lively pleasure contemplate the scene And roam securely, teachable, serene, At will throughout a world of fruitful lands.

Enjoy in moderation all life gives: Where it rejoices in each thing that lives Let reason be thy guide and make thee see.

Then shall the distant past be present still, The future, ere it comes, thy vision fill-- Each single moment touch eternity.

Then at the last shalt thou achieve thy quest, And in one final, firm conviction rest: What bears for thee true fruit alone is true.

Prove all things, watch the movement of the world As down the various ways its tribes are whirled; Take thou thy stand among the chosen few.

Thus hath it been of old; in solitude The artist shaped what thing to him seemed good, The wise man hearkened to his own soul's voice.

Thus also shalt thou find thy greatest bliss; To lead where the elect shall follow--this And this alone is worth a hero's choice.

INTRODUCTION TO HERMANN AND DOROTHEA

Hermann and Dorothea is universally known and prized in Germany as no other work of the cla.s.sical period of German literature except Goethe's _Faust_ and Schiller's _Wilhelm Tell_, and, although distinctively German in subject and spirit, it early became and is still a precious possession of all the modern world. It marks the culmination of the renaissance in the literary art of Germany and perhaps of Europe.

Schiller hailed it as the pinnacle of Goethe's and of all modern art.

A. W. Schlegel in 1797 judged it to be a finished work of art in the grand style, and at the same time intelligible, sympathetic, patriotic, popular, a book full of golden teachings of wisdom and virtue. Two generations later one of the leading historians of German literature declared that there is no other poem that comes so near to the father of all poetry (Homer) as this, none in which Greek form and German content are so intimately blended, and that this is perhaps the only poem which without explanation and without embarra.s.sment all the modern centuries could offer to an ancient Greek to enjoy. In the view of the end of the nineteenth century, expressed by a distinguished philosopher-critic, this work is a unique amalgam of the artistic spirit, objectivity, and contemplative clearness of Homer with the soul-life of the present, the heart-beat of the German people, the characteristic traits which mark the German nature.