The Trumpeter of Sakkingen Part 26

XIII.

Growing weaker, breathing harder, Soon I'll feel Death's shadow o'er me: Make my grave there in the store-house, In my former field of glory.

Valiantly all round me slaying Fought I like a raging lion: In his armour clad then bury Of his race the last brave scion.

Yes the last, because the offspring Win their parents equal never!

They are good but wooden people, Not so witty nor as clever.

Wooden are they, thinking solely Of the moment, hollow hearted; Only few still hold as sacred The bequests of the departed.

But sometime, when years have pa.s.sed by, In my grave I've long been sleeping, Then will come the angry cat's howl Nightly down upon you sweeping.

Hiddigeigei's solemn warning Will you from your slumber waken: Ever fear the coils of dulness!

Save yourselves, ye G.o.d-forsaken!

SONGS OF THE SILENT MAN.

FROM THE CAVE OF THE GNOMES.

I.

Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, Valiant, by no fears a.s.sailed; Only in calm meditation Lofty secrets are unveiled.

While the storms of life are raging, While mean souls for trifles fight.

Thou on wings of song art soaring O'er the mob in purer light.

Leave the dusty road to others, And thy soul unsullied keep, A clear mirror, like the ocean, Where the sun has sunk to sleep.

O'er the world's loud bustle rising, Soars the eagle lone on high; Cranes and storks, they flock together, But close to the earth do fly.

Quiet heart! O ponder lonely, Valiant, by no fears a.s.sailed; Only in calm meditation Lofty secrets are unveiled.

II.

Leave all commonplace forever, Digging deeply, upward soaring; For rich Nibelungen-treasures Lie all ready for exploring.

From the mountains we see shining Distant seas and sh.o.r.es of beauty; While beneath we hear the booming Of the gnomes hard at their duty.

Manna-like is spread around us Spiritual food abundant; And before our vision rises The old truth with light redundant--

As coa.r.s.e threads and fine together In _one_ net are intertwisting, So the same laws are forever For the small and great existing.

But a point comes,--sad confession?-- Where to pause, our thoughts restraining; At the limit of perception Is mysterious silence reigning.

III.

Past me wander beings pallid, Fill the air with words of anguish: All our doings are invalid, Sick and old, we slowly languish.

Have you ne'er the wondrous story Found in ancient books related, Of the spring, wherein the h.o.a.ry Plunged, then rose rejuvenated?

And this fountain is no fiction, Within reach of all 'tis flowing; But you've lost the true direction, Farther from its traces going.

In the forests' verdant bowers, Where deep calm the soul entrances, Where on graceful ferns and flowers Elves sweep through their nightly dances:

There by stones and moss well hidden, Rush the waters from the mountain; From Earth's bosom springs unbidden, Ever fresh, this magic fountain.

There with peace the soul is ravished; There the mind regains its powers; And the wealth of Spring is lavished O'er old wounds in blossom-showers.

IV.

Wilt thou know the world more clearly, See then what before thee lies; How from matter and from forces The whole fabric doth arise.

Of the fixed forms of creation Thou the moving cause must see; In the changes of phenomena Find what lasts eternally.

In presumptuous opinions Fresh pure seeds ne'er germinate; By deep meditation only Human minds explore, create.

V.

With the eagle's piercing sight endowed, And the heart with hope o'erflowing, I found myself with a mounted crowd To thought's fierce battle going.

The banners high, the lance in rest, The enemy's ranks were broken.