Wreath'd round with charms unceasingly!She's perfect,--and she fails in nought
Man, and man onlyCan do the impossible;He 'tis distinguisheth,Chooseth and judgeth;He to the momentEndurance can lend.
The Count's fury increases in power;"My wedded existence a curse long has been,
"I have selected thee," she said,"From all who earth's wild mazes tread,That thou shouldst have clear-sighted sense,And nought that's wrong shouldst e'er commence.When others run in strange confusion,Thy gaze shall see through each illusionWhen others dolefully complain,Thy cause with jesting thou shalt gain,Honour and right shalt value duly,In everything act simply, truly,--Virtue and godliness proclaim,And call all evil by its name,Nought soften down, attempt no quibble,Nought polish up, nought vainly scribble.The world shall stand before thee, then,As seen by Albert Durer's ken,In manliness and changeless life,In inward strength, with firmness rife.Fair Nature's Genius by the handShall lead thee on through every land,Teach thee each different life to scan,Show thee the wondrous ways of man,His shifts, confusions, thrustings, and drubbings,Pushings, tearings, pressings, and rubbings;The varying madness of the crew,The anthill's ravings bring to view;But thou shalt see all this express'd,As though 'twere in a magic chest.Write these things down for folks on earth,In hopes they may to wit give birth."--Then she a window open'd wide,And show'd a motley crowd outside,All kinds of beings 'neath the sky,As in his writings one may spy.
That is duty, that is fame.Ye trumpets, your sacred lament haste to raiseOh, welcome, ye gods, the bright lustre of days!Oh, welcome to heaven the youth from the flame!"
A name with each one echoes, meant for thee.
And upon the spot she beckons--
And will bathe thy weary feet;
His voice so fraught
THE reluctance which must naturally be felt by any one inventuring to give to the world a book such as the present, wherethe beauties of the great original must inevitably be diminished,if not destroyed, in the process of passing through thetranslator's hands, cannot but be felt in all its force when thattranslator has not penetrated beyond the outer courts of thepoetic fane, and can have no hope of advancing further, or ofreaching its sanctuary. But it is to me a subject of peculiarsatisfaction that your kind permission to have your nameinscribed upon this page serves to attain a twofold end--onedirect and personal, and relating to the present day; the otherreflected and historical, and belonging to times long gone by. Ofthe first little need now be said, for the privilege is whollymine, in making this dedication: as to the second, one word ofexplanation will suffice for those who have made the greatestpoet of Germany, almost of the world, their study, and to whomthe story of his life is not unknown. All who have followed thecareer of GOETHE are familiar with the name and character ofDALBERG, and also with the deep and lasting friendship thatexisted between them, from which SCHILLER too was not absent;recalling to the mind the days of old, when a Virgil and a Horaceand a Maecenas sat side by side.
Toying, rest, or rapture sweet."--She busily seeks his feign'd suff'rings to ease;Then smiles the Immortal; with pleasure he seesThat with kindness a heart so corrupted can beat.
He was leaving now the place,
MILLER'S DAUGHTER.Father's meadows and land