The Works of Frederick Schiller Part 486

Laid we not before his feet Earth's unbounded G.o.dlike womb?

Yet upon his kingly seat Wanders he without a home?"

"Does no G.o.d compa.s.sion feel?

Will none of the blissful race, With an arm of miracle, Raise him from his deep disgrace?

In the heights where rapture reigns Pangs of others ne'er can move; Yet man's anguish and man's pains My tormented heart must prove."

"So that a man a man may be, Let him make an endless bond With the kind earth trustingly, Who is ever good and fond To revere the law of time, And the moon's melodious song Who, with silent step sublime, Move their sacred course along."

And she softly parts the cloud That conceals her from the sight; Sudden, in the savage crowd, Stands she, as a G.o.ddess bright.

There she finds the concourse rude In their glad feast revelling, And the chalice filled with blood As a sacrifice they bring.

But she turns her face away, Horror-struck, and speaks the while "b.l.o.o.d.y tiger-feasts ne'er may Of a G.o.d the lips defile, He needs victims free from stain, Fruits matured by autumn's sun; With the pure gifts of the plain Honored is the Holy One!"

And she takes the heavy shaft From the hunter's cruel hand; With the murderous weapon's haft Furrowing the light-strown sand,-- Takes from out her garland's crown, Filled with life, one single grain, Sinks it in the furrow down, And the germ soon swells amain.

And the green stalks gracefully Shoot, ere long, the ground above, And, as far as eye can see, Waves it like a golden grove.

With her smile the earth she cheers, Binds the earliest sheaves so fair, As her hearth the landmark rears,-- And the G.o.ddess breathes this prayer:

"Father Zeus, who reign'st o'er all That in ether's mansions dwell, Let a sign from thee now fall That thou lov'st this offering well!

And from the unhappy crowd That, as yet, has ne'er known thee, Take away the eye's dark cloud, Showing them their deity!"

Zeus, upon his lofty throne, Harkens to his sister's prayer; From the blue heights thundering down, Hurls his forked lightning there, Crackling, it begins to blaze, From the altar whirling bounds,-- And his swift-winged eagle plays High above in circling rounds.

Soon at the feet of their mistress are kneeling, Filled with emotion, the rapturous throng; Into humanity's earliest feeling Melt their rude spirits, untutored and strong.

Each b.l.o.o.d.y weapon behind them they leave, Rays on their senses beclouded soon s.h.i.+ne, And from the mouth of the queen they receive, Gladly and meekly, instruction divine.

All the deities advance Downward from their heavenly seats; Themis' self 'tis leads the dance, And, with staff of justice, metes Unto every one his rights,-- Landmarks, too, 'tis hers to fix; And in witness she invites All the hidden powers of Styx.

And the forge-G.o.d, too, is there, The inventive son of Zeus; Fas.h.i.+oner of vessels fair Skilled in clay and bra.s.s's use.

'Tis from him the art man knows Tongs and bellows how to wield; 'Neath his hammer's heavy blows Was the ploughshare first revealed.

With projecting, weighty spear, Front of all, Minerva stands, Lifts her voice so strong and clear, And the G.o.dlike host commands.

Steadfast walls 'tis hers to found, s.h.i.+eld and screen for every one, That the scattered world around Bind in loving unison.

The immortals' steps she guides O'er the trackless plains so vast, And where'er her foot abides Is the boundary G.o.d held fast; And her measuring chain is led Round the mountain's border green,-- E'en the raging torrent's bed In the holy ring is seen.

All the Nymphs and Oreads too Who, the mountain pathways o'er, Swift-foot Artemis pursue, All to swell the concourse, pour, Brandis.h.i.+ng the hunting-spear,-- Set to work,--glad shouts uprise,-- 'Neath their axes' blows so clear Cras.h.i.+ng down the pine-wood flies.

E'en the sedge-crowned G.o.d ascends From his verdant spring to light, And his raft's direction bends At the G.o.ddess' word of might,-- While the hours, all gently bound, Nimbly to their duty fly; Rugged trunks are fas.h.i.+oned round By her skilled hand gracefully.

E'en the sea-G.o.d thither fares;-- Sudden, with his trident's blow, He the granite columns tears From earth's entrails far below;-- In his mighty hands, on high, Waves he them, like some light ball, And with nimble Hermes by, Raises up the rampart-wall.

But from out the golden strings Lures Apollo harmony, Measured time's sweet murmurings, And the might of melody.

The Camoenae swell the strain With their song of ninefold tone: Captive bound in music's chain, Softly stone unites to stone.

Cybele, with skilful hand, Open throws the wide-winged door; Locks and bolts by her are planned, Sure to last forevermore.

Soon complete the wondrous halls By the G.o.ds' own hands are made, And the temple's glowing walls Stand in festal pomp arrayed.

With a crown of myrtle twined, Now the G.o.ddess queen comes there, And she leads the fairest hind To the shepherdess most fair.

Venus, with her beauteous boy, That first pair herself attires; All the G.o.ds bring gifts of joy, Blessing their love's sacred fires.

Guided by the deities, Soon the new-born townsmen pour, Ushered in with harmonies, Through the friendly open door.

Holding now the rites divine, Ceres at Zeus' altar stands,-- Blessing those around the shrine, Thus she speaks, with folded hands:--

"Freedom's love the beast inflames, And the G.o.d rules free in air, While the law of Nature tames Each wild l.u.s.t that lingers there.

Yet, when thus together thrown, Man with man must fain unite; And by his own worth alone Can he freedom gain, and might."

Wreathe in a garland the corn's golden ear!

With it, the Cyane blue intertwine!

Rapture must render each glance bright and clear, For the great queen is approaching her shrine,-- She who our homesteads so blissful has given, She who has man to his fellow-man bound: Let our glad numbers extol then to heaven, Her who the earth's kindly mother is found!

THE RING OF POLYCRATES. [32]

A BALLAD.

Upon his battlements he stood, And downward gazed in joyous mood, On Samos' Isle, that owned his sway, "All this is subject to my yoke;"

To Egypt's monarch thus he spoke,-- "That I am truly blest, then, say!"

"The immortals' favor thou hast known!

Thy sceptre's might has overthrown All those who once were like to thee.

Yet to avenge them one lives still; I cannot call thee blest, until That dreaded foe has ceased to be."

While to these words the king gave vent, A herald from Miletus sent, Appeared before the tyrant there: "Lord, let thy incense rise to-day, And with the laurel branches gay Thou well may'st crown thy festive hair!"

"Thy foe has sunk beneath the spear,-- I'm sent to bear the glad news here, By thy true marshal Polydore"-- Then from a basin black he takes-- The fearful sight their terror wakes-- A well-known head, besmeared with gore.

The king with horror stepped aside, And then with anxious look replied: "Thy bliss to fortune ne'er commit.

On faithless waves, bethink thee how Thy fleet with doubtful fate swims now-- How soon the storm may scatter it!"

But ere he yet had spoke the word, A shout of jubilee is heard Resounding from the distant strand.

With foreign treasures teeming o'er, The vessels' mast-rich wood once more Returns home to its native land.

The guest then speaks with startled mind: "Fortune to-day, in truth, seems kind; But thou her fickleness shouldst fear: The Cretan hordes, well skilled, in arms, Now threaten thee with war's alarms; E'en now they are approaching here."

And, ere the word has 'scaped his lips, A stir is seen amongst the s.h.i.+ps, And thousand voices "Victory!" cry: "We are delivered from our foe, The storm has laid the Cretan low, The war is ended, is gone by!"

The shout with horror hears the guest: "In truth, I must esteem thee blest!

Yet dread I the decrees of heaven.

The envy of the G.o.ds I fear; To taste of unmixed rapture here Is never to a mortal given."

"With me, too, everything succeeds; In all my sovereign acts and deeds The grace of Heaven is ever by; And yet I had a well-loved heir-- I paid my debt to fortune there-- G.o.d took him hence--I saw him die."

"Wouldst thou from sorrow, then, be free.

Pray to each unseen Deity, For thy well-being, grief to send; The man on whom the G.o.ds bestow Their gifts with hands that overflow, Comes never to a happy end."

"And if the G.o.ds thy prayer resist, Then to a friend's instruction list,-- Invoke thyself adversity; And what, of all thy treasures bright, Gives to thy heart the most delight-- That take and cast thou in the sea!"