The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 498

Light as the rainbow's spring through the air, as the dart from the bowstring, Leaps the yoke of the bridge over the boisterous stream.

But in his silent chamber the thoughtful sage is projecting Magical circles, and steals e'en on the spirit that forms, Proves the force of matter, the hatreds and loves of the magnet, Follows the tune through the air, follows through ether the ray, Seeks the familiar law in chance's miracles dreaded, Looks for the ne'er-changing pole in the phenomena's flight.

Bodies and voices are lent by writing to thought ever silent, Over the centuries' stream bears it the eloquent page.

Then to the wondering gaze dissolves the cloud of the fancy, And the vain phantoms of night yield to the dawning of day.

Man now breaks through his fetters, the happy one! Oh, let him never Break from the bridle of shame, when from fear's fetters he breaks Freedom! is reason's cry,--ay, freedom! The wild raging pa.s.sions Eagerly cast off the bonds Nature divine had imposed.

Ah! in the tempest the anchors break loose, that warningly held him On to the sh.o.r.e, and the stream tears him along in its flood,-- Into infinity whirls him,--the coasts soon vanish before him, High on the mountainous waves rocks all-dismasted the bark; Under the clouds are hid the steadfast stars of the chariot, Naught now remains,--in the breast even the G.o.d goes astray.

Truth disappears from language, from life all faith and all honor Vanish, and even the oath is but a lie on the lips.

Into the heart's most trusty bond, and into love's secrets, Presses the sycophant base, tearing the friend from the friend.

Treason on innocence leers, with looks that seek to devour, And the fell slanderer's tooth kills with its poisonous bite.

In the dishonored bosom, thought is now venal, and love, too, Scatters abroad to the winds, feelings once G.o.d-like and free.

All thy holy symbols, O truth, deceit has adopted, And has e'en dared to pollute Nature's own voices so fair, That the craving heart in the tumult of gladness discovers; True sensations are now mute and can scarcely be heard.

Justice boasts at the tribune, and harmony vaunts in the cottage, While the ghost of the law stands at the throne of the king.

Years together, ay, centuries long, may the mummy continue, And the deception endure, apeing the fulness of life.

Until Nature awakes, and with hands all-brazen and heavy 'Gainst the hollow-formed pile time and necessity strikes.

Like a tigress, who, bursting the ma.s.sive grating iron, Of her Numidian wood suddenly, fearfully thinks,-- So with the fury of crime and anguish, humanity rises Hoping nature, long-lost in the town's ashes, to find.

Oh then open, ye walls, and set the captive at freedom To the long desolate plains let him in safety return!

But where am I? The path is now hid, declivities rugged Bar, with their wide-yawning gulfs, progress before and behind.

Now far behind me is left the gardens' and hedges' sure escort, Every trace of man's hand also remains far behind.

Only the matter I see piled up, whence life has its issue, And the raw ma.s.s of basalt waits for a fashioning hand.

Down through its channel of rock the torrent roaringly rushes, Angrily forcing a path under the roots of the trees.

All is here wild and fearfully desolate. Naught but the eagle Hangs in the lone realms of air, knitting the world to the clouds.

Not one zephyr on soaring pinion conveys to my hearing Echoes, however remote, marking man's pleasures and pains.

Am I in truth, then, alone? Within thine arms, on thy bosom, Nature, I lie once again!--Ah, and 'twas only a dream That a.s.sailed me with horrors so fearful; with life's dreaded phantom, And with the down-rushing vale, vanished the gloomy one too.

Purer my life I receive again from thine altar unsullied,-- Purer receive the bright glow felt by my youth's hopeful days.

Ever the will is changing its aim and its rule, while forever, In a still varying form, actions revolve round themselves.

But in enduring youth, in beauty ever renewing.

Kindly Nature, with grace thou dost revere the old law!

Ever the same, for the man in thy faithful hands thou preservest That which the child in its sport, that which the youth lent to thee; At the same breast thou dost suckle the ceaselessly-varying ages; Under the same azure vault, over the same verdant earth, Races, near and remote, in harmony wander together, See, even Homer's own sun looks on us, too, with a smile!

THE LAY OF THE BELL.

"Vivos voco--Mortuos plango--Fulgura frango." [44]

Fast, in its prison-walls of earth, Awaits the mould of baked clay.

Up, comrades, up, and aid the birth The bell that shall be born to-day!

Who would honor obtain, With the sweat and the pain, The praise that man gives to the master must buy.-- But the blessing withal must descend from on high!

And well an earnest word beseems The work the earnest hand prepares; Its load more light the labor deems, When sweet discourse the labor shares.

So let us ponder--nor in vain-- What strength can work when labor wills; For who would not the fool disdain Who ne'er designs what he fulfils?

And well it stamps our human race, And hence the gift to understand, That man within the heart should trace Whate'er he fashions with the hand.

From the fir the f.a.got take, Keep it, heap it hard and dry, That the gathered flame may break Through the furnace, wroth and high.

When the copper within Seeths and simmers--the tin, Pour quick, that the fluid that feeds the bell May flow in the right course glib and well.

Deep hid within this nether cell, What force with fire is moulding thus, In yonder airy tower shall dwell, And witness wide and far of us!

It shall, in later days, unfailing, Rouse many an ear to rapt emotion; Its solemn voice with sorrow wailing, Or choral chiming to devotion.

Whatever fate to man may bring, Whatever weal or woe befall, That metal tongue shall backward ring, The warning moral drawn from all.

See the silvery bubbles spring!

Good! the ma.s.s is melting now!

Let the salts we duly bring Purge the flood, and speed the flow.

From the dross and the sc.u.m, Pure, the fusion must come; For perfect and pure we the metal must keep, That its voice may be perfect, and pure, and deep.

That voice, with merry music rife, The cherished child shall welcome in; What time the rosy dreams of life, In the first slumber's arms begin.

As yet, in Time's dark womb unwarning, Repose the days, or foul or fair; And watchful o'er that golden morning, The mother-love's untiring care!

And swift the years like arrows fly No more with girls content to play, Bounds the proud boy upon his way, Storms through loud life's tumultuous pleasures, With pilgrim staff the wide world measures; And, wearied with the wish to roam, Again seeks, stranger-like, the father-home.

And, lo, as some sweet vision breaks Out from its native morning skies With rosy shame on downcast cheeks, The virgin stands before his eyes.

A nameless longing seizes him!

From all his wild compa.s.sions flown; Tears, strange till then, his eyes bedim; He wanders all alone.

Blushing, he glides where'er she move; Her greeting can transport him; To every mead to deck his love, The happy wild flowers court him!

Sweet hope--and tender longing--ye The growth of life's first age of gold; When the heart, swelling, seems to see The gates of heaven unfold!

O love, the beautiful and brief! O prime, Glory, and verdure, of life's summer time!

Browning o'er, the pipes are simmering, Dip this wand of clay [45] within; If like gla.s.s the wand be glimmering, Then the casting may begin.

Brisk, brisk now, and see If the fusion flow free; If--(happy and welcome indeed were the sign!) If the hard and the ductile united combine.

For still where the strong is betrothed to the weak, And the stern in sweet marriage is blent with the meek, Rings the concord harmonious, both tender and strong So be it with thee, if forever united, The heart to the heart flows in one, love-delighted; Illusion is brief, but repentance is long.

Lovely, thither are they bringing.

With the virgin wreath, the bride!

To the love-feast clearly ringing, Tolls the church-bell far and wide!

With that sweetest holiday, Must the May of life depart; With the cestus loosed--away Flies illusion from the heart!

Yet love lingers lonely, When pa.s.sion is mute, And the blossoms may only Give way to the fruit.

The husband must enter The hostile life, With struggle and strife To plant or to watch.

To snare or to s.n.a.t.c.h, To pray and importune, Must wager and venture And hunt down his fortune!

Then flows in a current the gear and the gain, And the garners are filled with the gold of the grain, Now a yard to the court, now a wing to the centre!

Within sits another, The thrifty housewife; The mild one, the mother-- Her home is her life.

In its circle she rules, And the daughters she schools And she cautions the boys, With a bustling command, And a diligent hand Employed she employs; Gives order to store, And the much makes the more; Locks the chest and the wardrobe, with lavender smelling, And the hum of the spindle goes quick through the dwelling; And she h.o.a.rds in the presses, well polished and full, The snow of the linen, the shine of the wool; Blends the sweet with the good, and from care and endeavor Rests never!

Blithe the master (where the while From his roof he sees them smile) Eyes the lands, and counts the gain; There, the beams projecting far, And the laden storehouse are, And the granaries bowed beneath The blessed golden grain; There, in undulating motion, Wave the cornfields like an ocean.

Proud the boast the proud lips breathe:-- "My house is built upon a rock, And sees unmoved the stormy shock Of waves that fret below!"

What chain so strong, what girth so great, To bind the giant form of fate?-- Swift are the steps of woe.

Now the casting may begin; See the breach indented there: Ere we run the fusion in, Halt--and speed the pious prayer!

Pull the bung out-- See around and about What vapor, what vapor--G.o.d help us!--has risen?-- Ha! the flame like a torrent leaps forth from its prison!

What friend is like the might of fire When man can watch and wield the ire?

Whate'er we shape or work, we owe Still to that heaven-descended glow.

But dread the heaven-descended glow, When from their chain its wild wings go, When, where it listeth, wide and wild Sweeps free Nature's free-born child.

When the frantic one fleets, While no force can withstand, Through the populous streets Whirling ghastly the brand; For the element hates What man's labor creates, And the work of his hand!

Impartially out from the cloud, Or the curse or the blessing may fall!

Benignantly out from the cloud Come the dews, the revivers of all!

Avengingly out from the cloud Come the levin, the bolt, and the ball!

Hark--a wail from the steeple!--aloud The bell shrills its voice to the crowd!

Look--look--red as blood All on high!