The Poems of Schiller - Second period Part 4

Behold me dwindling in my nook, Edged at her left,--and not a look!

A sort of rushlight of a life, Put out by that great orb--my wife!

Scarce is the morning gray--before Postman and porter crowd the door; No premier has so dear a levee-- She finds the mail-bag half its trade; My G.o.d--the parcels are so heavy!

And not a parcel carriage-paid!

But then--the truth must be confessed-- They're all so charmingly addressed: Whate'er they cost, they well requite her-- "To Madame Blank, the famous writer!"

Poor thing, she sleeps so soft! and yet 'Twere worth my life to spare her slumber; "Madame--from Jena--the Gazette-- The Berlin Journal--the last number!"

Sudden she wakes; those eyes of blue (Sweet eyes!) fall straight--on the Review!

I by her side--all undetected, While those cursed columns are inspected; Loud squall the children overhead, Still she reads on, till all is read: At last she lays that darling by, And asks--"What makes the baby cry?"

Already now the toilet's care Claims from her couch the restless fair; The toilet's care!--the gla.s.s has won Just half a glance, and all is done!

A snappish--pettish word or so Warns the poor maid 'tis time to go:-- Not at her toilet wait the Graces Uncombed Erynnys takes their places; So great a mind expands its scope Far from the mean details of--soap!

Now roll the coach-wheels to the muster-- Now round my muse her votaries cl.u.s.ter; Spruce Abbe Millefleurs--Baron Herman-- The English Lord, who don't know German,-- But all uncommonly well read From matchless A to deathless Z!

Sneaks in the corner, shy and small, A thing which men the husband call!

While every fop with flattery fires her, Swears with what pa.s.sion he admires her.-- "'Pa.s.sion!' 'admire!' and still you're dumb?"

Lord bless your soul, the worst's to come:--

I'm forced to bow, as I'm a sinner,-- And hope--the rogue will stay to dinner!

But oh, at dinner!--there's the sting; I see my cellar on the wing!

You know if Burgundy is dear?-- Mine once emerged three times a year;-- And now to wash these learned throttles, In dozens disappear the bottles; They well must drink who well do eat (I've sunk a capital on meat).

Her immortality, I fear, a Death-blow will prove to my Madeira; It has given, alas! a mortal shock To that old friend--my Steinberg hock! [13]

If Faust had really any hand In printing, I can understand The fate which legends more than hint;-- The devil take all hands that print!

And what my thanks for all?--a pout-- Sour looks--deep sighs; but what about?

About! O, that I well divine-- That such a pearl should fall to swine-- That such a literary ruby Should grace the finger of a b.o.o.by!

Spring comes;--behold, sweet mead and lea Nature's green splendor tapestries o'er; Fresh blooms the flower, and buds the tree; Larks sing--the woodland wakes once more.

The woodland wakes--but not for her!

From Nature's self the charm has flown; No more the Spring of earth can stir The fond remembrance of our own!

The sweetest bird upon the bough Has not one note of music now; And, oh! how dull the grove's soft shade, Where once--(as lovers then)--we strayed!

The nightingales have got no learning-- Dull creatures--how can they inspire her?

The lilies are so undiscerning, They never say--"how they admire her!"

In all this jubilee of being, Some subject for a point she's seeing-- Some epigram--(to be impartial, Well turned)--there may be worse in Martial!

But, hark! the G.o.ddess stoops to reason:-- "The country now is quite in season, I'll go!"--"What! to our country seat?"

"No!--Travelling will be such a treat; Pyrmont's extremely full, I hear; But Carlsbad's quite the rage this year!"

Oh yes, she loves the rural Graces; Nature is gay--in watering-places!

Those pleasant spas--our reigning pa.s.sion-- Where learned Dons meet folks of fas.h.i.+on; Where--each with each ill.u.s.trious soul Familiar as in Charon's boat, All sorts of fame sit cheek-by-jowl, Pearls in that string--the table d'hote!

Where dames whom man has injured--fly, To heal their wounds or to efface, them; While others, with the waters, try A course of flirting,--just to brace them!

Well, there (O man, how light thy woes Compared with mine--thou need'st must see!) My wife, undaunted, greatly goes-- And leaves the orphans (seven!!!) to me!

O, wherefore art thou flown so soon, Thou first fair year--Love's honeymoon!

All, dream too exquisite for life!

Home's G.o.ddess--in the name of wife!

Reared by each grace--yet but to be Man's household Anadyomene!

With mind from which the sunbeams fall, Rejoice while pervading all; Frank in the temper pleased to please-- Soft in the feeling waked with ease.

So broke, as native of the skies, The heart-enthraller on my eyes; So saw I, like a morn of May, The playmate given to glad my way; With eyes that more than lips bespoke, Eyes whence--sweet words--"I love thee!" broke!

So--Ah, what transports then were mine!

I led the bride before the shrine!

And saw the future years revealed, Gla.s.sed on my hope--one blooming field!

More wide, and widening more, were given The angel-gates disclosing heaven; Round us the lovely, mirthful troop Of children came--yet still to me The loveliest--merriest of the group The happy mother seemed to be!

Mine, by the bonds that bind us more Than all the oaths the priest before; Mine, by the concord of content, When heart with heart is music-blent; When, as sweet sounds in unison, Two lives harmonious melt in one!

When--sudden (O the villain!)--came Upon the scene a mind profound!-- A bel esprit, who whispered "Fame,"

And shook my card-house to the ground.

What have I now instead of all The Eden lost of hearth and hall?

What comforts for the heaven bereft?

What of the younger angel's left?

A sort of intellectual mule, Man's stubborn mind in woman's shape, Too hard to love, too frail to rule-- A sage engrafted on an ape!

To what she calls the realm of mind, She leaves that throne, her s.e.x, to crawl, The cestus and the charm resigned-- A public gaping-show to all!

She blots from beauty's golden book A name 'mid nature's choicest few, To gain the glory of a nook In Doctor Dunderhead's Review.

WRITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALb.u.m.

Sweet friend, the world, like some fair infant blessed, Radiant with sportive grace, around thee plays; Yet 'tis not as depicted in thy breast-- Not as within thy soul's fair gla.s.s, its rays Are mirrored. The respectful fealty That my heart's n.o.bleness hath won for thee, The miracles thou workest everywhere, The charms thy being to this life first lent,-- To it, mere charms to reckon thou'rt content, To us, they seem humanity so fair.

The witchery sweet of ne'er-polluted youth, The talisman of innocence and truth-- Him I would see, who these to scorn can dare!

Thou revellest joyously in telling o'er The blooming flowers that round thy path are strown,-- The glad, whom thou hast made so evermore,-- The souls that thou hast conquered for thine own.

In thy deceit so blissful be thou glad!

Ne'er let a waking disenchantment sad Hurl thee despairing from thy dream's proud flight!

Like the fair flowerets that thy beds perfume, Observe them, but ne'er touch them as they bloom,-- Plant them, but only for the distant sight.

Created only to enchant the eye, In faded beauty at thy feet they'll lie, The nearer thee, the nearer their long night!

FOOTNOTES:

[9] This concluding and fine strophe is omitted in the later editions of Schiller's "Poems."

[10] Hercules who recovered from the Shades Alcestis, after she had given her own life to save her husband, Admetus. Alcestis, in the hands of Euripides (that woman-hater as he is called!) becomes the loveliest female creation in the Greek drama.

[11] i. e. Castor and Pollux are transferred to the stars, Hercules to Olympus, for their deeds on earth.

[12] Carlyle's Miscellanies, vol. iii, p. 47.

[13] Literally "Nierensteiner,"--a wine not much known in England, and scarcely--according to our experience--worth the regrets of its respectable owner.