The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 03 - Коллектив авторов

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ever—to the Shades below,

          And there—we grasp him, still our own!"

        So singing, their slow dance they wreathe,

        And stillness, like a silent death,

        Heavily there lay cold and drear,

        As if the Godhead's self were near.

        Then, true to those strange rites of old,

          Pacing the circle's solemn round,

        In long and measured strides—behold,

          They vanish in the hinder ground!

        Confused and doubtful—half between

        The solemn truth and phantom scene,

        The crowd revere the Power, presiding

        O'er secret deeps, to justice guiding—

        The Unfathom'd and Inscrutable

          By whom the web of doom is spun,

        Whose shadows in the deep heart dwell,

          Whose form is seen not in the sun!

        Just then, amidst the highest tier,

         Breaks forth a voice that starts the ear;

        "See there—see there, Timotheus,

         Behold the Cranes of Ibycus!"

         A sudden darkness wraps the sky;

           Above the roofless building hover

         Dusk, swarming wings; and heavily

           Sweep the slow Cranes, hoarse-murmuring, over!

        "Of Ibycus?"—that name so dear

         Thrills through the hearts of those who hear!

         Like wave on wave in eager seas,

         From mouth to mouth the murmur flees—

        "Of Ibycus, whom we bewail!

           The murder'd one! What mean those words?

         Who is the man—knows he the tale?

           Why link that name with those wild birds?"

         Questions on questions louder press—

         Like lightning flies the inspiring guess—

         Leaps every heart—"The truth we seize;

         Your might is here, EUMENIDES!

         The murderer yields himself confest—

           Vengeance is near—that voice the token—

         Ho!-him who yonder spoke, arrest!

           And him to whom the words were spoken!"

         Scarce had the wretch the words let fall,

         Than fain their sense he would recall

         In vain; those whitening lips—behold!

         The secret have already told.

         Into their Judgment Court sublime

           The Scene is changed;—their doom is seal'd!

         Behold the dark unwitness'd Crime,

           Struck by the lightning that reveal'd!

* * * * *

      THE WORDS OF BELIEF (1797)

        Three Words will I name thee—around and about,

          From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee;

        But they had not their birth in the being without,

          And the heart, not the lip, must their oracle be!

        And all worth in the man shall for ever be o'er

        When in those Three Words he believes no more.

        Man is made FREE!—Man, by birthright, is free,

          Though the tyrant may deem him but born for his tool.

        Whatever the shout of the rabble may be—

          Whatever the ranting misuse of the fool—

        Still fear not the Slave, when he breaks from his chain,

        For the Man made a Freeman grows safe in his gain.

        And Virtue is more than a shade or a sound,

          And Man may her voice, in this being, obey;

        And though ever he slip on the stony ground,

          Yet, ever again to the godlike way,

        To the science of Good though the Wise may be blind,

        Yet the practice is plain to the childlike mind.

        And a God there is—over Space, over Time;

          While the Human Will rocks, like a reed, to and fro,

        Lives the Will of the Holy—A Purpose Sublime,

          A Thought woven over creation below;

        Changing and shifting the All we inherit,

        But changeless through all One Immutable Spirit!

        Hold fast the Three Words of Belief—though about

          From the lip to the lip, full of meaning, they flee;

        Yet they take not their birth from the being without—

          But a voice from within must their oracle be;

        And never all worth in the Man can be o'er,

        Till in those Three Words he believes no more.

* * * * *

      THE WORDS OF ERROR (1799)

        Three Errors there are, that for ever are found

          On the lips of the good, on the lips of the best;

        But empty their meaning and hollow their sound—

          And slight is the comfort they bring to the breast.

        The fruits of existence escape from the clasp

        Of the seeker who strives but those shadows to grasp—

        So long as Man dreams of some Age in this life

          When the Right and the Good will all evil subdue;

        For the Right and the Good lead us ever to strife,

          And wherever they lead us, the Fiend will pursue.

        And (till from the earth borne, and stifled at length)

        The earth that he touches still gifts him with strength![10]

        So long as Man fancies that Fortune will live,

          Like a bride with her lover, united with Worth;

        For her favors, alas! to the mean she will give—

          And Virtue possesses no title to earth!

        That Foreigner wanders to regions afar,

        Where the lands of her birthright immortally are!

        So long as Man dreams that, to mortals a gift,

          The Truth in her fulness of splendor will shine;

        The veil of the goddess no earth-born may lift,

          And all we can learn is—to guess and divine I

        Dost

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