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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
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OF THE
GERMAN LYRIC POETS.
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OF THE
GERMAN LYRIC POETS :
CONSISTING OF
TRANSLATIONS IN VERSE,
FROM TUB WORKS__OF
BÜRGER, GOETHE, KLOPSTOCK, SCHILLER, &c.
INTERSPERSED WITH
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES,
And Engravings on JFood by the First Artists.
SECOND EDITION.
s^v-t«TS?C^/-()'-t.
ILonlton:
BOOSEY AND SONS, ■*, BROAD STRRKT; AND RODWKfiL
AND MARTIN, NEW BOND STRKKT.
ADVERTISEMENT.
The chief portion of the following Translations was
puhlished at Berlin, about twenty years ago, in a
Musical Work, com[)rising some of the best German
Melodies. The words to those Melodies were from
the pen of an English gentleman of the name of
Beresford, who was long resident in Germany:
they met with so favourable a reception, that the
same Publisher was afterwards induced to print
them without the music, in two Vols. 12mo. ac-
companied by the original text in o|)posite columns.
To tliat Edition, the Lines addressed to the Queen
of Prussia on her Birthday, which are stated to
be an original composition by tlie author of the
Translations, were subjoined. The great popularity
which these Translations obtained abroad, their
^scarcity, and the unipiestionable merit they pos-
sess, are the motives whicii gave rise to the
present reprint of them, without the German con-
text, an unnecessary appendage to a Publication
designed for English readers. A few more Poems,
translated from the same language, by Mr. Mellisli,
late British Consul at Hamburg, liave likewise been
added. To render this little Volume complete, the
Publishers prevailed upon a gentleman, a German
by birth, of great taste and knowledge of his native
literature, to furnish Biographical Sketches of most
of the eminent Writers from whose Works the Se-
lection was made, 'fliese Sketches are partly ori-
ginal, partly derived from soiu'ces of difficult access,
and from the information of persons of the highest
authority on such subjects. The Publishers flatter
themselves that tiie Embellishments and the general
appearance of the Work are such as do no dis-
credit to its contents.
Broad Street,
October, 1821.
CONTENTS.
Pag^e
Life of Bürger 1
Love's Witchcraft 3
The Maid I mean 4
Winter Song- 9
Fanny's Worth 10
Mutual Love 11
Leonora (a Ballad) 12
Cradle Song- (Burniann) 22
Life of Claudius 23
Song: 24
Ditto 26
Life of Gleini 28
The Invitation 29
Song- (Götter) 30
Life of Johann Wolfg-ang V^oii (joetlio 31
Moon-Lig-ht S3
The King- of Thule • 34
The Fisher 36
The Harper 37
Song- 39
Song- 40
Life of Ludwig- Ileinreich Cristoph llölty 41
Song- 43
Invitation to Joy 44
Fortitude 45
Life of Johann Georg- Jacobi 47
Song- 48
Life of Kleist ÖO
11
Dithyranibics jl
Life of Fi-ifdricli GctttlicI» Kll.|l^tc)^•k 52
Sou«;- 54
Life of August \'(.ii Kotzclmc .'iä
Miiistrol Song- 57
Dedication (to The most rciiKiikiibl«- \<-,ir in tlir Life of
Kotzebui') 58
Life of Friedricli Miiltliisoi 59
Song- 60
May Sonjr 61
Wiiniirij.- 6a
Life of Miicliler 64
The Absent Fair ib.
The Invitation (Miilli r) 66
Life of Netilx ck 68
Tlie Praise of lion ib.
SiiujT (Nostiz) 71
Lifcof Overlie.k 72
Sou'^ ib.
Water Pii-.< 74
Life of Salis 75
Sprinw 76
Life of Sandi'r 77
Deatir« Cradb' Sonfr j),.
Life of Friedricli Von SeliiMer 79
Tb. laitlifnl Kni-^lif (a Balh.d) 8.3
On tiie Works of Antiiim- Art at Paris 86
Canadian Dralb Son;; 87
Hymn to .(oy 89
Hero and Le;in<br, (a Hallad) y4
The Afitif(iie Slalne lo tlie Northern Travclli r 1().'3
The Meed of V irtne lb.
To tiie IVl use ] (JJ.
Mary, (^ncen of Scol > if;.
Ill
Vine
LitV" of {'hristian I'riodiicli niinit>l Scliiilwrt 106
Soiij. 109
Propiii to Si-.mi and Galniora (Sio^tViiMl) Ill
Life of Cliiistiaii aiul Frioflricli Loopolil, Counts StoII)er<j 11;»
Rodolpli (a Rallail) 116
Song 119
Hymn to Nature 120
Lite of Johann Iloinroicli \'oss 121
\'ornal Lovo 123
Song 125
The Wooer V2Q
Life of Cliiistian Felix Weis/.e 130
Sonjv l^'t
Ditto 135
AXONYMOIS.
Morning- Hymn 136
Song 137
Ditto 138
Ditto »b.
Friendship 139
To Fortune 140
Song Ml
Ditto 143
Rural Life ih-
Song 144
Ditto 145
Ditto 1 1~
The Sleeping Reaiity 1 i3
Drinking Song 149
Love : I '>0
Beauty and Musie ih.
Invitation to May 151
To the Queen of Prussia on her Birtliday 152
OF THE
GERMAN LYRIC POETS.
BURGER.
The success which the justly celebrated ballad
of Leonora has obtained in England, renders it re-
markable that public attention should not have been
more awakened to other works by the same author,
and that so little curiosity should have been mani-
fested to ascertain the peculiarities of his character,
and to learn the particulars of his history. Hitherto,
however, most of his beautiful romances, some of
which Bürger himself held in higher estimation
than Leonora, are almost entirely unknown in this
country, and their author is known but by name.
It is therefore hoped, that this biographical out-
line, together with the interesting specimens which
follow, will not be unwelcome to the Englisli
reader.
Gottfried Augustus Bürger was born the 1st of
January, 1748, at Walmerswemle, in the principality
of Halberstadt; and died in the year 1794, at Got-
tingen, where he filled the chair of Professor of
Philosophy. His father was a clergyman in the prin-
cipality above named.
Bürger, who, when arrived at the age of man-
hood was all spirit and gaiety, was, when a child,
remarkable for excessive dulness and stupidity. It
required two years to teach him the inflection of
mensa, which, although the severest punishments were
inflicted on him, he could not be brought to compre-
hend sooner ; and he entered his tenth year with no
other acquirements than reading and writing. The
first indication of any thing like talent which he
displayed, Avas a great fondness for poetry. He de-
lighted in solitude, and cherished those sombre feel-
ings which are inspired by midnight meditation, and
by rambling through dark forests and unfrequented
spots. After having been removed, with little ad-
vantage, from one school to another, he entered, in
1768, at the university of Gottingen. Here his im-
prudence and irregularity of conduct laid the founda-
tion of those many sufi"erings which he had to combat
in after-life. Instead of providing, by study, for the
means of future subsistence, he wasted, by imprudent
association, all that was most valuable to him — time,
money, and reputation. His grandfather, incensed
at his conduct, withdrew from him his assistance and
protection,
Bürgers ruin would now have been inevitable, had
he not had the good fortune to form an intimacy with
Sprengel, Holtz, Voss, and Count Stolberg. Those
celebrated men were all at this time young students in
the University, and had established a literary society
for mutual improvement. Encouraged by their ex-
ample, he now began to study with ardour the best
ancient and modern classics, but his favourite author
was Shakspeare. Percy's Relics, which had afterwards
so powerful an influence on his mind, became his
constant pocket companion ; and about this time his
poems began to attract notice. In 1772, he at last
obtained, by the aid of his friends, a permanent
situation, which not only was the means of recon-
ciling him with his grandfather, but, moreover, in-
duced the worthy old man to pay his debts, and even
to be answerable for him to a considerable amount.
The money was unfortunately deposited with one of
Burger's friends, who applied it to his own use.
The event Avas one of the most important in our
Poet's life, as in it originated that embarrassment of
his finances which continued to the last moment of his
existence, and which so materially influenced his
poetical character.
His marriage, in 1774, became a source of still
greater misfortunes, which he has himself described
in language truly affecting. Cabal and intrigue com-
pelled him to resign his office in Alten Gleichen, and
from this time he resided at Gottingen— at first as a
private teacher, and subsequently as a professor of
philosophy, deriving, however, no emolument from
his office. Abandoned by his wife, without the aid of
powerful friends, almost without the means of sub-
sistence, his whole frame shaken by the repeated and
BURGER.
painful sufferings, poor Burger lived a life of wretched-
ness, and finally experienced the fate of so many men
of genius, dying, in 1794, a victim to grief and
misery. If we follow the unhappy poet through this
long labyrinth of misfortunes, we are at a loss to
account for the extent and variety of his writings.
He has composed Odes, Elegies, Ballads, and Epi-
grams. In no one style of poetical composition does
he maintain an inferior rank ; and in some, the unani-
mous voice of his countrymen has assigned to him the
first place. Schiller's famous judgment on his poems,
was always remembered by Burger with pain. Tlie
critique of A. W. Schlegel is more just, and from that
we may fairly quote, to conclude this slight memoir.
"Bürger," he observes, " is a poet of an imagination
more original than comprehensive ; of feelings more
honest and candid, than tender and delicate: he is
more successful in the execution, than in the invention
of his plan ; more at home in romance, than in the
lofty regions of the Lyric Muse."
THE MAID I MEAN.
How in the charms of countless loves
The Maid I mean divinely moves !
And when she sj)eaks, and I the while
Am wrapt, whence comes her magic smile ?
To her, as special boons of Heav'n,
Grace, eloquence, and smiles are giv'n.
BURGER.
Who gave her eyes their fire and hue,
So piercing bright, so mildly blue ?
He 'twas, the great Omnipotent,
Who fram'd the Stars and Firmament,
He gave her eyes their fire and hue
So piercing bi-ight, so mildly blue.
Wlio o'er the Maiden's dimpled cheek
DiflFused the blush so chaste and meek ?
He who the Ev'ning's placid sky
With the departing light can dye,
He o'er the Maiden's dimpled cheek
DiflFus'd the blush so chaste and meek.
^V^lO on her lips such virtue shed
Than roses sweeter and more red ?
He who enamels Enna's vale,
Who gives perfume to Enna's gale.
He on her lips such virtue shed
Than roses sweeter and more red.
Who fashion'd for the matchless fair
Tlie golden ringlets of her hair ?
He who the curling clouds displays,
And tinges with the solar rays.
He fashion'd for the matchless fair
Tlie golden ringlets of her hair.
Who fram'd those white and even rows
Of teeth, her op'ning lips disclose?
a BURGER.
Who drops of dew to pearls coiigeal'd,
And then in coral beds conceal'd ?
He fram'd those white and even rows
Of teeth, her op'ning lips disclose.
W\\o gave to this celestial fair
Such witching breathings of sweet air ?
'Twas he, the great, the mighty Lord,
■^ ^Vlio tunes the spheres sublime accord,
He gave to this celestial fair
Such witching breathings of sweet air. —
And who, to make complete the whole,
Breath'd into clay this Angel-Soul?
To whom the glory, but to him
'^^ ^Vliose breaths the Soul of Seraphim :
'Twas he, to make complete the whole,
Breath'd into clay this Angel-Soul.
Great Artist, hail ! whose touch divine
Could thus Creation's choice combine —
And yet, if all this world of charms
^^ Were destin'd for another's arms,
I would I never had been born.
Nor seen the Maid, her loss to mourn.
LOVE'S WITCHCRAFT.
Maiden, look me in the face ;
Stedfast, serious — no grimace !
Maiden, mark me, now I task thee.
Answer, quickly, what I ask thee ;
Steadfast, look me in the face ;
Little vixen — no grimace !
Frightful, art thou not; 'tis true,
Eyes thou hast of lovely blue ;
Lips and cheeks, the rose defying,
Bosom, snow in whiteness vying.
Charms thou hast ; — ah, sure 'tis true
Killing eyes of azure hue !
Be thou lovely ; — yet, I ween,
Fair thou art, but not a queen :
Not the queen of all that's charming ;
Not alone all hearts alarming.
Fair and bright ; — but still, I ween,
Briglit and fair ; but not a queen !
T\Tien I turn me here and there.
Scores of lovely maids appear ;
Scores of maids, in beauty blooming,
Claims, as fair as thine, assuming: —
Scores of maidens, here and there.
Smile as sweet, and look as fair !
Yet hast thou imperial sway; —
I, thy willing slave, obey!
Sway imperial, now to teaze me.
Now to soothe, and now to please me.
Life and death attend thy sway ;
See thy willing slave obey !
Scores of maidens ! — what a train !
Scores and scores ! — yet all were vain,
Should ev'n thousands strive to chace thee
From the throne where Love doth place thee
Tens of thousands ! — what a train !
All their fondest arts were vain !
Look me, charmer, in the face ;
Little vixen, no grimace !
Tell rae, why for thee I'm sighing.
Thee alone, and others flying ?
Little charmer, no grimace !
Speak, and look me in the face !
BURGER.
Long' the cause I've vainly scann'd,
Why to thee alone I bend ! —
Tortur'd thus, nor know the reason !
Martyr still to am'rous treason !
Fair enchantress ! 'fore me stand :
Speak — and shew thy magic wand !
WINTER SONG.
Now Winter strips, witli ruthless haste,
The poplar's leafy pride ;
Deforms the vale with chilling hlast,
And checks the crystal tide :
While each fair flow'r of brightest glow,
Lies deep entomb'd in ice and snow. j-^
Yet, luckless blossoms, cease to claim
Tlie sympathetic lay.
In Fanny's face your colours beam.
And sw eeter hues display ;
Bright azure shines in either eye,
Her lips the rose s tints defy.
Nor more let Philomela wail.
And let the lark be still, 1^
While Fanny's dearer notes prevail,
And softer warblings trill ;
Her lips exhale the breath of Spring,
Fresh winnow'd by the zephyr's wing.
10 BÜRGER.
Aud when the melting kiss I snatch ,
And hold her to my heart,
The cherry and the juicy peach
Not half such sweets impart.
What then for May have I to care,
While Spring and Summer bloom in her !
\'^
FANNY'S WORTH.
Could Fanny's charms be barter'd
For gold and jewels rare ; —
And had I countless treasures,
I'd give them all for her !
Let him whom wealth enamours.
Still wear its sordid chain ;
Alas ! without dear Fanny,
To me all wealth were vain !
If Europe's ample regions
My potent sway should own;
And could I Fanny purchase,
I'd gladly yield my crown:
For city, throne, and palace,
And M'ide-extended mead,
I'd take my blooming Fanny,
Were all I own'd a shed.
11
Tlio' fate alone determines,
How long we loiter here ;
Yet could I wing the minutes,
And speed their swift career ; ^H,
Whole years, I swear, should vanish,
For hours, were she my own; —
For hours, and dearest Fanny,
But mine, and mine alone ! W
MUTUAL LOVE.
Could I fancy, that for me.
Thou a transient thought could'st spare ;
Or, of what I feel for thee.
E'en a thousandth part could'st share ; —
When I greet thee, would' st thou deign
One kind look to hid me live ; —
Or, one kiss return again;
Sweet return, for those I give; —
All dissolv'd in tender joy,
High my raptur'd heart would beat ;
Fondly at thy feet I'd sigh ;
Fondly call my bondage sweet !
Dear the change of mutual vows ;
Love return'd, new love shall claim : —
And the spark, that faintly glows,
Soon shall blaze uu ardent flame !
^vA
■*-;v5^.- :-M
E=^;
LEONORA,
A BALLAD.
From sickly dream, sad Leonor'
Upstarts at morninsr's ray :
"Art faithless, AVilliam? — or no more?
How lonj; wilt bide away?"
He march'd in Fredrick's warlike train.
And foug'ht on Prague's ensangnin'd plain ;
Yet no kind tidings tell,
If William speeds him well.
The king, and fair Hungaria's queen,
At length bid discord cease ;
Each other eye with milder mien.
And hail the grateful peace.
BÜRGER. 13
And now the troops, a joyous throng.
With drum and uproar, shout and song,
All deck'd in garlands fair,
To welcome home repair.
On ev'ry road, on ev'ry way, ^
As now the crowd appears,
See young and old their path helay.
And greet with friendly tears.
" Praise God ! " each child and matron cryd,
And, "Welcome!" many a happy hride :
But, ah ! for Leonor'
No kiss remains in store !
From rank to rank, now see her rove,
O'er all the swarming field ;
And ask for tidings of her love.
But none could tidings yield.
And when the bootless task was o'er,
Her beauteous raven-locks she tore ;
And low on earth she lay.
And rav'd in wild dismay.
With eager speed the mother flies :
" God shield us all from harms!
What ails my darling child? ' she cries,
And snatch'd her to her arms.
"Ah, mother, see a wretch undone!
What hope for me beneath the sun !
Sure Heav'n no pity knows !
Ah, me I what cureless woes !
14 BURGER.
"Celestial pow'rs, look gracious on!
Haste, daughter, haste to pray'r.
^^Tiat Heav'n ordains is wisely done,
And kind its parent care."
"All, mother, mother, idle tales!
Sure Heav'n to me no kindness deals.
O, unavailing vows !
^Vhat more have I to lose?"
" O, trust in God! — Wlio feels aright,
Älust own his fost'ring care ;
And holy sacramental rite
Shall calm thy wild despair. "
"Alas! the pangs my soul invade.
What pow'r of holy rite can aid ?
What sacrament retrieve
The dead, and bid them live ? "
"Perchance, dear child, he loves no more;
>^ And, wand'ring far and wide.
Has chang'd his faith on foreign shore.
And weds a foreign bride.
And let him rove and prove untrue !
Ere long his gainless crimes he'll rue :
^Vlien soul and body part,
What pangs shall wring his heart ? "
"Ah, mother, mother, gone is gone!
The past shall ne'er return !
Sure death were now a welcome boon :
O had I ne'er been born !
BÜRGER. 16
No more I'll bear the hateful light ;
Sink, sink, my soul, in endless night!
Sure Heav'n no pity knows:
Ah, me! what endless woes!"
Help, Heav'n, nor look with eye severe,
On this deluded maid ;
My erring child in pity spare,
She knows not what she said:
Ah, child! all earthly cares resign,
And think of God and joys divine.
A spouse celestial, see : —
In heav'n he waits for thee."
' O, mother, what are joys divine?
Wliat hell, dear mother, say?
'Twere heav'n, were dearest William mine ;
'Tis hell, now he's away. 'tx
No more I'll bear the hatefid light :
Sink, sink, my soul, in endless night!
All bliss with William flies ;
Nor earth, nor heav'n I prize! "
Thus rav'd the maid, and mad despair
Shook all her tender frame ;
She wail'd at j)rovidential care.
And tax'd the heav'ns with blame.
She wrung her hands, and beat her breast, !k
Till parting daylight streak'd the West ;
Till brightest starlight shone
Around night's darksome throne.
16 BURGER.
Now hark ! a coursei-'s clatt'ring tread
Alarms the lone retreat —
And straight a horseman slacks his speed,
And lights before the gate :
Soft rings the bell — the startled maid,
Now lists, and lifts her languid head ;
Wlien, lo ! distinct and clear,
These accents reach her ear : —
*' Wliat, ho ! what, ho ! ope wide the door!
Speak, love; — dost wake or sleep?
Tliink'st on me still ? — or think'st no more ?
Dost laugh, dear maid, or weep?"
"Ah! William's voice! so late art here?
I've wept and watch'd with sleepless care,
And wail'd in bitter woe !
Whence com'st thou mounted so?"
" We start at midnight's solemn gloo m
I come, sweet maid, from far —
In haste and late I left my home ;
And now I'll take thee there."
"O, bide one moment first, my love.
Chill blows the wind athwart the grove ;
And here, secure from harm,
Tliese arms my love shall warm ! "
" Let blow the wind and chill the grove;
Nor wind, nor cold I fear —
Wild stamps my steed; come, haste, my love:
^y. I dare not linger here.
BÜRGER. 17
Haste, tuck thy coats, make no delay;
Mount quick behind, for e'en to-day.
Must ten-score leagues be sped
To reach our bridal bed ! "
"Wliat! ten-score leagues! canst speed so far,
Ere morn the day restore ?
Hark! hark! the village clock I hear —
How late it tells the hour ! "
*' See there, the moon is bright and high ;
Swift ride the dead! — we'll bound, we'll fly !
I'll wager, love, we'll come.
Ere morn, to bridal home."
"Say, where is deck'd the bridal hall?
How laid the bridal bed?"
"Far, far from hence, still, cool and small;
Six planks my wants bestead."
" Hast room for me?" — " For me and thee !
Come, mount behind, and haste and see : —
E'en now the bride-mates wait.
And open stands the gate."
With graceful ease the maiden sprung
Upon the coal-black steed, - ,^
And round the youth her arms she flung, y'
And held with fearful heed.
And now they start and speed amain,
Tear up the ground, and fire the plain;
And o'er the boundless waste.
Urge on with breathless haste.
c<nA
18
Now on the right, now on the left,
As o'er the waste they bound.
How flies the heath ! the lake ! the clift !
How shakes the hollow ground !
"Art frighted, love? the moon rides high :
AVliat, ho ! the dead can nimbly fly !
Dost fear the dead, dear maid?"
" Ah ! no — why heed the dead !"
Now knell and dirges strike the ear.
Now flaps the raven's wing,
And now a sable train appear ; —
Hark ! " Dust to dust," they sing.
In solemn march, the sable train
With bier and cofiin cross the plain:
Harsh float their accents round :
Like night's sad bird the sound.
"At midnight's hour, the corpse be hiid
In soft and silent rest !
Now home I take my plighted maid,
To grace the wedding feast !
And, sexton, come with all thy train.
And tune for me the bridal strain:
Come, priest, the pray'r bestow,
Ere we to bride-bed go ! "
The dirges cease — the coffin flies.
And mocks tlie cheated view ;
Now rattling dins around him rise.
And hard behind pursue.
BÜRGER. 19
And on he darts with quicken'd speed ;
How pants the man ! — How pants the steed !
O'er hill, o'er dale they bound :
How sparks the flinty ground !
On right, on left, how swift the flight
Of mountains, woods, and downs!
How fly on left, how fly on right,
The hamlets, spires and towns !
"Art frighted, love? — the moon rides high:
What, ho ! the dead can nimbly fly !
Dost fear the dead, dear maid? "
"Ah! leave — ah! leave the dead !"
Lo, where the gibbet scars the sight.
See, round the gory wheel,
A shadowy mob, by moon's pale light,
Disport with lightsome heel.
" Ho ! hither, rabble ! hither come ;
And haste with me to bridal home !
niere dance in grisly row.
When we to bride-bed go ! "
He spoke, and o'er the cheerless waste, '/4-y
The rustling rabble move :
So sounds the whirlwind's driving blast.
Athwart the wither'd grove.
And on he drives with fiercer speed ;
How pants the man ! — How pants the steed !
O'er hill and dale they bound :
How sparks the flinty ground !
20
And all the landscape, far and wide,
That 'neath the moon appears ;
How swift it flies, as on they glide !
How fly the heav'ns, the stars !
"Art, frighted, love? — the moon rides high :
What, ho ! the dead can nimbly fly !
Dost fear the dead, dear maid ? "
' ' O heavens ! — Ah ! leave the dead ! "
"Tlie early cock, methinks, I hear :
My fated hour is come !
Methinks I scent the morning air :
Come, steed, come haste thee home !
Now ends our toil, now cease our cares ; —
And, see, the bridal house appears:
How nimbly glide the dead !
See, here, our course is sped!"
Two folding grates the road belay,
And check his eager speed ;
He knocks, the pond rous bars give way,
Tlie loosen'd bolts recede.
The grates unfold with jarring sound ;
See, new-made graves bestrew the ground,
And tomb-stones faintly gleam.
By moon-light" s pallid beam.
And now, O frightful prodigy !
(As swift as lightning's glare)
Tlie rider's vestments piecemeal fly,
And melt to empty air !
BURGER.
His poll a ghastly death's head shews,
A skeleton his body grows ;
His hideous length unfolds,
And scythe and glass he holds !
High rear'd the steed, and sparks of fire
From forth his nostrils flew ; ^
He paw'd the ground in frantic ire, J(
And vanish'd from the view.
Sad howlings fill the regions round ;
With groans the hollow caves resound ;
And Death's cold damps invade
The shudd'ring, hapless maid !
And lo ! by moon-light's glimm'ring ray,
In circling measures hie
The nimble sprites, and as they stray.
In hollow accents cry :
"Though breaks the heart, be mortals still ;
Nor rail at Heav'n's resistless will:
And thou, in dying pray'r,
Call Heav'n thy soul to spare ! "
21
BURMANN.
i:
CRADLE-SONG.
O GENTLE be thy slumbers,
^^^^ Serene thy life's career!
And, softer blow, ye Zephyrs,
Nor wake my sleeping care !
And, ev'ry guardian power,
Propitious look below ;
And, Avith a Parent's fondness.
Your fost'ring smiles bestow !
May roses, ever blooming,
Thy devious path bestrew ;
Nor Passion's lawless fury,
Tliy tender heart subdue.
May Virtue e'er attend thee.
And lasting joys provide ;
Youth's early dawn still gracing ;
Still Manhood's nobler pride !
O thou that gav'st the blessing,
Let Virtue's calm delight.
Betimes his heart encircle,
Betimes his steps invite.
But should these hopes so tender.
All fruitless j)rove and vain ;
At once, O snatch him from me;-
And Death shall end my pain !
CLAUDIUS.
Matthew Claudius, known also by the name of
Asmus, the Wandsbeck Messenger, was born in the
year 1743, at Rienfeld, near Lübeck. He resided
for some time without employment at VVandsbeck,
in the vicinity of Hamburg; but in 1776, he ob-
tained a public situation at Darmstadt. This office,
he however resigned the following year, and returned
to his favorite retreat at Wandsbeck. Here he was
still resident a few years ago, in the capacity of re-
viser to the Holstein-Schleswig bank of Altona.
His principal production bears this whimsical title :
^^ Asmus, omnia sua secum portans, or, Tlie Works
of the Wandsbeck Messens^er." It is an olio of
compositions in poetry and prose ; containing ro-
mances, elegies, fables, epigrams, and sacred songs,
interspersed with essays, chiefly on moral subjects.
These compositions have an air of popular philoso-
phy, and convey in a style, which is easy, natural,
and often very humorous, lessons of justice, charity,
patriotism, and religion; satirising at the same time,
with equal justice and severity, the follies and vices
of mankind.
The lyrical effusions of Claudius deserve parti-
cular mention ; for they, more than any other part
of his writings, have contributed to raise his well-
earned reputation. Many of them are commonly sung
24 CLAUDIUS.
and recited in every German village. Tliey incul-
cate much practical morality, expressed in agreeable
language, intelligible even to the uncultivated mind
of a German peasant : yet, notwithstanding that by
far the greatest part of Claudius's writings are dis-
tinguished by elevation of sentiment, and soundness
of reasoning, and abound in wit and humour, they
will not, critically considered, bear a very nice scru-
tiny. His thoughts are generally just, and his in-
vention happy ; but his plan has seldom depth, and
his execution is frequently defective. He is singular
rather than original ; sometimes extravagant where
he would be thought lumiorous, and affected where he
means to be witty. But his chief defect, and that for
which he has been the most severely censured, is an
abbi'eviated form of expression, consisting in the
elision of short words and syllables, which he indulged
in to gain popularity ; with this glaring defect, not-
withstanding the entertaining and instructive nature
of his writings, they cannot be recommended as models
of style.
SONG.
With verdant wreaths the flowing bowling intwine,
And gayly quaff it dry:
How blest the land that boasts such generous wine !
^\Tiat draughts with these shall vie !
CLAUDIUS. 25
Nor need our steps to distant Hung'Vy tend,
Nor yet to Gallia roam :
Let him who likes, so far for liquor send! —
We find it nearer home.
Our German hills the hounteous juice supply,
And hence its worth so rare !
Dear native land, beneath thy temp'rate sky.
What varied gifts we share !
Nor yet through all Germania does it grow,
Where many a barren hill.
And many a rock uplifts its rugged brow,
Not worth the place they fill.
A plant there grows, Thuringia's heights among.
That like the vine appears ; —
Its meager juice inspires no jovial song.
Nor soothes the toper's cares.
Saxonia's hills in gay confusion lie,
Yet no rich vines unfold :
Their boasted rocks may silver ore supply.
And e'en some paltry gold. «Si
Nor where the Bloxberg rears its blust'ring head,
Shall Bacchus' train appear;
Thence rise the winds, and thence the tempests spread;
But not a grape is there.
E
i>~
26 CLAUDIUS.
On Rhine's fair banks the envied clusters grow ;
Tlien sacred be the Rhine ;
And blest those banks whose sunny heights bestow
The life-preserving wine !
Then drink amain, cast all our cares away ;
Let mirth the moments cheer ;
And knew we where a son of sorrow lay,
We'd bid him welcome here.
SONG.
Scarce sixteen Summers had I seen,
And rov'd my native bowers ;
Nor stray d my thoughts beyond the green,
Bedeck'd with shrubs and flowers : —
\Mien late a stranger youth appear'd,
I neither wish'd nor sought him ;
He came, but whence I never heard.
And spoke what love had taught him.
His hair in graceful ringlets played.
All eyes are charm'd that view them ;
And o'er his comely shoulders stray'd.
As wanton zephyrs blew them.
CLAUDIUS.
27
His speaking eye of azure hue
Seem'd ever softly suing ; —
And such an eye, so clear and blue,
Ne'er shone for maid's xmdoing.
His face was fair, his cheek was red,
With blushes ever burning ;
And all he spoke was deftly said,
Tliough far beyond my learning.
Where'er I stray'd, the youth was nigh.
His looks soft sorrows speaking ;
"Sweet maid!" he'd say, then gaze and sigh.
As if his heart were breaking.
And once, as low his head he hung, j/^
I fain would ask the meaning ;
When round my neck his arms he flung, ^
Soft tears his griefs explaining.
Such freedom ne'er was ta'en till now ;
And now t'was unoffending ;
Shame spread my cheek with ruddy gloAV,
My eyes kept downwards bending.
Nor aught I spoke ; — my looks he read,
As if with anger burning :
No, not one word : — ^Away he sped —
Ah, would he were returning!
GLEIM.
1 HE events in the calm uninterrupted life of Gleim
Avere so few in number, that they have left little for
the biographer to record, beyond the date which com-
menced, and that which terminated so happy an ex-
istence. Johann Wilhelm Ludwig Gleim, was born
at Ermsland, in the year 1719, and died at Wal-
beck, in 1803. He was educated at the University
of Halle, where he was a member of a society simi-
lar in its formation and object, to that established at
the University of Leipzig, which last enrolled among
its fellows, the great names of Klopstock, Rabner,
Cramer and others. To such zealous and able co-oper-
ation of men of extraordinary powers, directed solely
to the illustration and improvement of their natural
literature, especially poetry, we may ascribe the rise
of that splendid constellation of talent which has
shone in this, the golden age of letters in Germany.
Gleim, after accepting and relinquishing several situ-
ations of little importance, received at length the
appointment of Dean, at Walbeck. This office he
filled with the greatest credit for the long space of
sixty years, paying constant court to the Muses, and
maintaining a regular and friendly correspondence
with the principal A\Titers in Germany.
GLEIAI. 21)
As a poet, he has been styletl, and indeed with jus-
tice, the German Anacreon. His compositions are
chiefly lyrical, consisting of romances, fables, and
ballads, — the war-songs of the Prussian Grenadier.
To the life, the spirit, the energy which animate
these, he will be indebted for whatever fame may be
his portion, beyond the reputation of the present
day.
THE INVITATION.
A LONELY cot is all I own :
It stands on yonder verdant down ;
And near the brook — the brook is small,
Yet clear its bubbling fountains fall.
A spreading beech uprears its head,
And half conceals the humble shed :
From chilling winds a safe retreat ;
A refuge from the noon-tide heat :
And on its boughs the nightingale
■•IS
So sweetly tells her plaintive tale ;
That oft the passing rustics stray.
With loit'ring steps to catch the lay. ^
Sweet blue-ey'd maid, with locks so fair,
^ly heart's dear pride — my f<uidest care !
I hie me home — the storm doth lowr :
Come share, sweet Maid, my shelt'ring tow'r!
G O T T E R.
SONG.
Ah, how sweetly love
Steals the soul away ;
Envied joys we prove
'Neath its gentle sway.
Swift the moments haste ;
Pleasure wings their way :-
A Years so sweetly pass'd,
Seem but one short day.
Ah, how sweetly love
Steals the soid away !
Ah, how sweetly love
Steals the soul away !
Light our labours prove,
WhUe it gilds the day.
Duty grows a charm ;
Smooth, life's rugged way,
Love's kind beams can warm
Winter's einliest day.
Ah, how sweetly love
Steals the soul away !
JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE.
Was born the 28th of August, 1749, at Frankfort
on the Maine, of respectable and wealthy parents.
Their son's improvement M'as the primary object of
their care, and to the attainment of that object their
means were fully adequate. In the public school of
his native town, young Goethe evinced such extraor-
dinary proofs of genius, that he not only attracted
the notice of his superiors, but became at once the
model and oracle of his school-fellows. He applied
to the study of the law for three years at Leipzig, and
took the degree of LL. D. at Strasburg. Three years
after this event he made a tour in Switzerland, in com-
pany Avith the two Counts Stolberg, the poets, and
the well-known Prussian minister. Count Haugwitz.
In the course of this tour, he met with the Grand
Duke of Saxe Weimar, Charles Augustus, who was
so prepossessed in his favor, by his agreeable man-
ners and shining talents, that he invited him to
Weimar. The invitation was readily accepted, and
in that town Goethe fixed his residence, having
dwelt there ever since, with the exception of the
time employed in making, with the Grand Duke,
a second journey into Switzerland, and the inter-
val of his travels in Italy and Sicily. I^oaded with
3*2 GOETHE.
honors and dignities by his prince, admired, nay,
almost adored by his countrymen, and possessing
a competence Mhich renders exertion a matter of
choice and not of necessity, Goethe devotes nearly the
whole of his time to literary labours, and repays, by
the production of his works, the attentions which he
receives from all classes of society.
It would not be consistent with the plan of this
Work, to enter into a general enquiry of Goethe's me-
rits and demerits as a Prose Writer and a Poet ; but
we may be allowed to observe, that he belongs indis-
putably to that class of writers, of whom Germany
t/ has reason to be proud. He is the creator of seve-
ral new forms of versification, which have grown
nearly to perfection under his skilfiü hand, whilst the
boldness and originality of his conceptions have ele-
vated him to the very highest rank among the German
Poets. His Faust, liis Götz von Berlichingen, and
his Werther, produced a more complete revolution in
the literary world, than the compositions of any other
writer of his time. The chief excellencies of his
poetry are invention and originality; these, added to
great elegance of diction, and a style both animated
and natural, render him interesting when writing
even on the most indifferent subjects. Equal praise
is due to his prose works, of which the perspicuity,
purity, and polish, entitle them to be called classi-
cal in the strictest sense of the epithet.
33
MOO N-L I G H T.
ScATTERD o'er the starry pole,
Glimmers Cynthia's heam ; ?
Whisp'ring to the soften'd sou),
Fancy's varied dream.
O'er the landscape, far and nigh.
Gleams the glowing night ;
Soft as Friendship's melting eye,
Bends its soothing light.
Touch'd in tnrn, hy joy and pain.
Quick responds my heart ;
Floats, as Mem'ry pjiints the scene,
'Twixt deliglit and smart.
Riv'let, speed thy flowing maze ;
So my years have flown!
Past delights thy lapse displays :
Joys for ever gone ! .'^
Dear the transports once I knew ;
Dear and lov'd in vain ! —
Mem'ry's ling'ring, fond review,
Turns the past to pain.
Riv'let, urge thy ceaseless flow,
Gurgling speed thee on ;
Whisp'ring strains of plaintive woe;
Mournful unison ! —
F
34 GOETHE,
Whether, at the midnight scene.
Swells thy troubled source :
Or, along the flow'ry green,
Glides with gentler course.
Blest the man, who, timely wise.
Seeks Retirement's shade :
Blest, whose lot a friend supplies.
Partner of the glade ; —
Calmer pleasures there invite ;
Joys, nor vain, nor loud;
Joys, that erring mortals slight;
Joys, that shun the crowd !
THE KING OF THULE.
There liv'd a King in Thule,
He lov'd with all his soul ;
And she, he lov'd so truly.
Left him a golden bowl. —
He priz'd it past all measure,
He drain'd it at each meal;
His eyes wept o'er his treasure.
Whene'er he drank his fill.
GOETHE. 35
He thought his last of breathing,
Told all his cities through ;
All to his heir bequeathing,
But not the bowl, I trow.
In his castle, near thie ocean.
He sat, his knights withal,
Their beards were all in motion.
At the banquet, in the hall.
There sat this dry old fellow,
Quaff'd Life's last warmth with glee ;
And the sacred bowl, when mellow,
He cast into the sea.
He saw it sinking, shining,
Where waves around it roar —
His eyes thereo'er declining,
Drop never drank he more.
THE FISHER.
In gurgling eddies rolld the tide,
The wily angler sat;
Its verdant, willow'd bank beside,
And spread the treaeh'rous bait.
Reclin'd he sat in careless mood,
The floating quill he eyed ; —
When, rising from the op'ning flood,
A humid maid he spied.
She sweetly sung, she sweetly said,
As gaz'd the wond'ring swain ;
"Why thus with murd'rous arts invade
"My placid, harmless reign?
"Ah, didst thou know, how blest, how free,
" The finny myriads stray,
"Tliou'dst long to dive the limpid sea,
"And live as blest as they.
GOETHE. 37
"The sun, the lovely queen of night,
" Beneath the deep repair ;
"And thence, in streamy lustre bright,
"Return more fresh and fair.
"Tempts thee not yon setherial space,
"Beting-'d with liquid blue? —
" Nor tempts thee there thy pictur'd face,
"To bathe in Avorlds of dew?"
Tlie tide in gurgling eddies rose.
It reach'd his trembling feet :
His heart with fond impatience glows,
The promis'd joys to meet.
So sung the soft, the winning fair ;
Alas ! ill-fated swain ! —
Half-dragg'd, half-pleased, he sinks with her.
And ne'er was seen again !
THE HARPER.
"What melting strains salute my ear.
Without the portal's bound?
Page, call the bard; — the song we'll hear.
Beneath this roof resound."
So spake the king ; the stripling hies ;
He quick returns ; — the monarch cries,
" Old man, be welcome here !"
38
GOETHE.
" Hail, mighty chiefs of high renown ;
Hail, beauteous, matchless dames.
Whose smiles the genial banquet crown,
^liose glance each breast inflames !
Ah, scene too bright! with downcast eyes,
In haste I check my fond surprize,
My rash presumption own !"
With downcast looks, the song he rear'd ;
TJie full-ton'd harp replied :
The knights grew fierce, their eye-balls glared
Each tender fair one sigh'd.
The king applauds the thrilling strain,
And straight decrees a golden chain.
To deck the tunefid bard.
' ' Be far from me the golden chain ;
111 suits the proffer'd mead.
To some bold knight, 'raid yonder train,
Be then the gift decreed.
Or, let the upright chancellor,
Tlie load, with other burdens, bear:
To me such gift were vain !"
"As chants the bird on yonder bough.
So flows my artless lay;
And well the artless strains that flow,
The tuneful task repay.
Yet, dare I ask, this boon be mine ;
A goblet fill with choicest wine, —
On me the draught bestow."
GOETHE. 39
He lifts the cup and quaffs the wine :
"O nectar d juice," he cries,
" O blest abode, where draughts divine,
Unvalued gifts ye prize !
Ah, thank your stars, with heart as true,
'Mid all your joys, as I thank you,
For this rich cup of wine !"
SONG.
Unnotic'd, in the lonely mead,
A violet rear'd its modest liead ;
A sweet and lovely flower!
A blooming maid came gadding by,
With vacant heart and gladsome eye.
And tripp'd with sportive, careless tread.
"Ah!" thought the violet, "had I now
"The rose's matchless form and glow;
' ' Tho' transient were the power ;
"To be but pluckt by that sweet maid,
' ' And on her virgin bosom laid ;
"Blest fate! what more could heav n bestow?'
Along the lovely maiden past.
Nor on the ground a look she cast,
But trod the hapless flower :
It sunk, it died, and yet was gay :
"Ah, let me die," 'twas heard to s.ay,
" If 'neath her feet, I breathe my last!"
40
SONG.
Know'st thou the land, where citrons scent the gale,
Where glows the orange in the golden vale ;
WTiere softer breezes fan the azure skies,
Where myrtles spring, and prouder laurels rise ?
Know'st thou the land ? 'tis there our footsteps tend :
And there, my faithful love, our course shall end.
Know'st thou the pile, the colonade sustains,
Its splendid chambers and its rich domains,
\\liere breathing statues stand in bright array.
And seem, "what ails thee, hapless maid," to say?
Know'st thou the land? 'tis there our footsteps tend;
And there, my gentle guide, our course shall end.
Know'st thou the mount, where clouds obscure the day;
Where scarce the mule can trace his misty way;
Where lurks the dragon and her scaly brood ;
And broken rocks oppose the headlong flood ?
Know'st thou the land? 'tis there our course shall end!
There lies our way — ah, thither let us tend !
LUDWIG HEINREICH CRISTOPH.
HÖLTY.
This distina^ished Poet was the son of a Clergyman,
of Mariensee, in the kingdom of Hanover, where he
was born on the 21st of December, 1748, and died in
1776. In his love of solitude, and attachment to
the wilder scenes of Nature, he resembled Bürger,
but in temper he was widely different; for, from
earliest infancy he was characterized by more than
ordinary vivacity of disposition ; and so eager was
his ardour for study, that he scarcely allowed himself
leisure for his meals, and snatched many an hour
from the time destined for repose. In his intercourse
with society, he was always cheerful, gentle, kind,
and benevolent. AVhilst resident at the University
of Gottingen, he became a member of that cele-
brated Literary Society, to which we have before
alluded, and lived on terms of friendly intimacy with
Bürger, Voss, Stolberg, &c. That intimacy gave
a direction to Holty's studies, which was not perhaps
accordant with the object for which his father sent
him to the University ; yet, whilst he pleased him-
self with acquiring a familiar acquaintance with the
lore of the principal Greek, Latin, English, Italian,
and German Poets, both ancient and modern, he did
42 HOLTY.
not neglect those more serious studies that were to
qualify him for the pulpit. Neither did he confine
his reading to poetry alone ; but, with indefatiga-
ble patience and zeal, toiled through the best stan-
dard works in the most useful branches of knowledge.
So universal was his information, that the learned
mathematician Kostner was accustomed to say :
" Hölty knew by far too much for a poet." His un-
bounded curiosity was even extended to the publi-
cations of the day, and in making himself master of
their contents, he devoured whole folios and quartos
with successive and extraordinary rapidity. Such
overstrained application could not fail to undermine
his constitution, and accordingly Hölty died a martyr
to excessive study in the 28th year of his age.
The poetical fame of Hölty, in every species of
composition which he adopted, is highly extolled by
the best and most competent judges ; every fresh at-
tempt brought him nearer to perfection, but he consi-
dered even his most finished productions, only as
boyisli effusions, preparatory to maturer efi"orts.
He chiefly excelled in delineations of rural beauty,
and was pre-eminent in treating of melancholy sub-
jects. His lyric songs, however, have procured him
his chief celebrity ; they are so universally recited
in Germany, that, in popularity, they may be said
to rival those of Burger.
43
SONG.
Strew the way with fairest flow'rs,
Ev'ry ill forgetting;
Swiftly fly the envious hours,
Quick our sun is setting.
Daphnis now in frolic dance,
Sports with care unclouded;
Yet, ere Morning's beams advance.
See the stripling shrowded !
See in Hymen's joyous band,
Blushing Phoebe plighting;
See, ere Ev'aing's dews expand.
Death her eyes benighting.
Give then grief and moping care
To the breeze that passes :
'Neath this beechen grove so fair,
Drain the jingling glasses.
Let not Philomel's soft strain
Trill neglected numbers.
Nor the hum of bees in vain,
Lull to soothing slumbers.
Snatch as long as Fortune smiles.
Love and drinking pleasures :
Ruthless death no art beguiles —
Soon he »teals our treasures.
44
O'er the dark and silent grave,
Where his prey reposes,
Vain their wings the zephyrs wave,
Scatt'ring breath of roses ;
Vain the glasses tinkling sound
Death's dull ear invading ;
Vain the frolic dance around,
Deftest measures treading.
INVITATION TO JOY.
SAY, who would mope in joyless plight,
Wliile Youth and Spring bedeck the scene ;
And scorn the proffer'd gay delight.
With thankless heart and frowning mien ?
See, Joy with becks and smiles appear.
While roses strew the devious way ;
The feast of life he bids us share,
Where'er our pilgrim footsteps stray.
And still the grove is cool and green,
And clear the bubbling fountain flows ;
Still shines the Night's resplendent queen.
As erst in Paradise she rose :
The grapes their purple nectar pour,
To 'suage the heart that griefs oppress ;
And still the lonely ev'ning-bow'r,
Invites and screens the stolen kiss !
HO LTV. 45
Still Philomela's melting^ strain,
Responsive to the dying gale,
Beguiles the bosom's throbbing pain,
And sweetly charms the list'ning vale !
Creation's scene expanded lies —
Blest scene ! how wond'rous bright and fair !
Till Death's cold hand shall close my eyes,
Let me these lavish'd bounties share !
FORTITUDE.
Let Truth and spotless Faith be thine.
Till Life's vain pageants close ;
And still at Virtue's sacred shrine,
Be breath'd thy ardent vows.
Our pilgrim path with flow'rs shall bloom,
And sun-shine glad the day;
Wliile undismay'd we eye the tomb,
And smile at Life's decay.
Content, serene, thy steps shall guide ;
Fair maid of mien divine !
And sweet shall taste the crystal tide,
As cup of rosy wine.
Tlie slave to gxiilt still quakes with fear,
Tho' Syren charms invite ; —
No joy, his languid day shall cheer,
No soft repose his night.
46 HÖLTY.
In vain shall Spring revive the plain,
And glad the vocal grove ;
The breast, where baser passions reign,
No vernal raptures move.
He shudders at the whisp'ring breeze,
Appall'd with guilt and fear !
In vain the dream of life shall cease —
His terrors end not there !
O then, let Truth and Faith be thine.
Till Life's vain prospects fade ;
And stiU at Virtue's sacred shrine
Thy ardent vows be paid.
So shall the friends, we leave below,
Bedew with tears our tomb ;
And round, the freshest sod shall grow.
And choicest flow'rs shall bloom !
JOHANN GEORG JACOBI,
Op Dusseldorf on the Rhine, was horn in 1740.
His life has heen a life of stmly, neither harrassed
by business, nor chequered by adversity. He re-
sided successively at the Universities of Gottingen,
Helmstadt, and Halle. At the latter University he
formed an acquaintance with Gleim, and that ac-
quaintance preserved him still a votary of the Muses,
whose service, but for Gleim's persuasion, he woidd
have renounced for ever. At this period he had ac-
quired so much renown by his writings, that the
Emperor Joseph II. was induced to offer him a pro-
fessorship of rhetoric and the belles lettres, at the
University of Freiburg, which oflFer he accepted,
and he has ever since pursued his tranquil occupa-
tion, respected by his colleagues, beloved by his
friends, and honored and esteemed by all Germany,
as an author and a poet.
Jacobi is one of the few German writers who have
formed their taste on French models. He has imi-
tated in his verses, the easy playful style of the poets
of that nation ; and has, in i)articular, avowed his ad-
miration of Chai)elle, Chaulieu, and Gresset. Their
works were the sources from whence he derived the
soft and tender tone of his compositions, and the
48 JACOBI.
easy flow and charming euphony of his numbers. In
his descriptions of the innocent and cheerful pleasures
of life, he has closely followed Gleim; and, indeed,
he owes a great portion of his art to that Poet's so-
ciety and instruction. His maturer efforts display a
more manly character, and not unfrequently unite
with his natural simplicity and grace, much richness
of imagination and profundity of thought. His dra-
matic pieces bear the lowest, and his lyrical effusions
the highest rank among his compositions.
SONG.
Tell me where's the violet fled.
Late so gayly blow^ing;
Springing 'neath fair Flora's tread.
Choicest sweets bestowing.
Swain, the vernal scene is o'er,
And the violet blooms no more !
Say, where hides the blushing rose,
Pride of fragrant morning ;
Garland meet for Beauty's brows ;
Hill and dale adorning.
Gentle Maid, the Summer's fled.
And the hapless rose is dead !
41)
Bear me then to yonder rill,
Late so freely flowing,
Wat'ring many a daffodil
On its margin glowing :
Sun and wind exhaust its store ;
Yonder rivulet glides no moi'e !
Lead me to the how'ry shade,
Late with roses flaunting ;
Lov'd resort of youth and maid,
Amorous ditties ehauntiug :
Hail and storm with fury show'r ;
Leafless mourns the rifled bowV !
Say, where bides the village maid,
Late yon cot adorning ;
Oft I've met her in the glade,
Fair and fresh as morning :
Swain, how short is Beauty's bloom !
Seek her in her gprassy tomb.
Whither roves the tuneful swain.
Who, of rural pleasures ;
Rose and violet, rill and plain.
Sung in deftest measures ?
Maiden, swift Life's vision flies,
Death has clos'd the Poet's eyes !
KLEIST.
iiWALD Christian von Kleist, born 1715, in Po-
merania, of noble parents, was one of the few classi-
cal writers, who broke the fetters of Gottsched's
school, and introduced a better taste into German
poetry. He studied at Konisberg, in Prussia, and,
on leaving that University, entered the Danish, and
subsequently the Prussian military service, the last
of which he joined in obedience to the summons of
Frederick the Great. His bravery and exemplary
conduct, in many trying situations dmüng the seven
year's war, advanced him from command to command,
till he attained the rank of Major. On the 12th of
August, 1759, Avas fought the sanguinary battle of
Kunersdorf, between the Russians and Prussians,
and, in that battle, Kleist fell, after having received
several severe wounds. Among those Poets who
have improved the language, and refined the taste
of their countrymen, Kleist stands pre-eminent.
Tlie principal characteristics of his style are har-
mony and conciseness of expression, fertility and
novelty of ideas, and a strict regard to the interests
of morality. He was ])eculiarly happy in describ-
ing the beauties of Nature, and the delights of rural
retirement; and his poem "der Frühling," is gene-
rally considered one of the best descriptive poems
which the German language possesses.
KF/EIST.
51
DITHYRAMBICS.
Haste, the joys of life to share ;
Seize the moments as they fly:
Soon shall close the scene so fair : —
Soon we droop, and fade, and die I
Laugh at Physic's pert pretence ;
Shun the Avater-drinking train : —
Wine that soothes the Soul's offence,
Soothes alike the Body's pain !
Wine, the halm kind Nature ])Ours,
Rosy health and hloom siipplies :
Crown the howl Avith fairest flow'rs;
Drink — delight at hottom lies !
Now his rites let Bacchus claim.
Let his fragrant altars hurn : —
Soon shall Love his hreast inflame ;
Love shall triumjdi in his turn !
FRIEDRICH GOTTLIEB KLOPSTOCK.
iVi.opsTOCK, one of the greatest Poets that Ger-
many has produced, was horn at Quedlinburg-, in
the year 1724; from 1739 to 1743, he was imbib-
ing' the rudiments of learning- at tlie tlien lughly ce-
lebrated academy, the Schulpforte ; he afterwards
studied theology at Jena and Leipzig, and was joined
in literary union vrith Cramer, Ebert, Schmidt, Schle-
gel, and the other members of that distinguished So-
ciety. In 1748, he went in the capacity of private
tutor to Langensalza in Thuringia ; there he met with
the far-famed Fanny, the beautiful and accomplished
sister of his friend Schmidt. He was unfortunate in
his love, and the disappointment preying upon his
spirits, gave birth to a morbid feeling, aggi-avated
perhaps by incessant study and long continued medi-
tation on his great work. The Messiah, which settled
into a deep melancholy ; this distressing state of
mind was only alleviated by change of scene, and at
length removed after several years occupied in travel.
The first cantos of his Messiah made a great impres-
sion throughout all Germany, and created so extra-
ordinary a sensation in Switzerland, that Bodmer and
several other learned men invited our Poet to visit that
KLOPSTOCK. 53
country. Klopstock accepted the invitation, and, in
1750, set out for Zurich, where he received a hearty
welcome from his Swiss admirers, especially from
Bodmer, in whose house he resided for nine months ;
an agreeable interval, spent in social converse with
his friends, in the indulgence of his poetical propen-
sity, and in musing on the sublime scenery by
which he was surrounded.
When, on the eve of returning to Germany, he re-
ceived an invitation from Frederick V. King of Den-
mark, to rei)air to Copenhagen, accompanied by the
tempting offer of an handsome annuity. In that ca-
pital Klopstock passed some of the happiest years of
his life, living in retirement, but honored with many
marks of favor and esteem by his Royal Patron.
Tliis epoch of his history, too, was no less fortunate
for the world, since it is the date of some of the no-
blest productions of his muse.
Wlien his friend, the minister Bernstorf, received
his dismissal, Klopstock went for a year to Karls-
ruhe, at the instance of Frederick, Elector of Baden,
and returned from thence to Hamburg, where he
spent the remnant of his days. He died the 14th of
March, 1803. The towns of Hamburg and Altona
united in furnishing a splendid funeral, such as has
rarely graced a Poet's remains. The Ambassadors
of England, France, Austria, Prussia, Denmark, and
Holland; the Senate, the Clergy, and the vvliolc
body of Citizens assembled in solemn procession,
and united in paying a last tribute to the genius
and memory of Klopstock.
54 KLOPSTOCK.
The great corner stone of the fame of Klopstock is
his Messiah, the merits of which are well known in
England, hut from which it does not fall within our
plan to make extracts ; the following little song may
serve as a specimen of the lighter effusions of this
sublime Poet.
SONG.
Thv image, dearest Maid,
My ravish 'd eyes still see :
And many a tear they shed,
Alas ! that 'tis not thee !
When Ev'ning's shades prevail.
And Cynthia decks the sky,
I fondly sigh and wail ! —
In vain, I wail and sigh !
By yonder myrtle bow'r,
Wliere blooms her destin'd wreath ;
By ev'ry beauteous flow'r,
That adds its fragrant breath ;
Dear Form, no more deceive ;
The guileful task forbear :
O change, and bid me live; —
Ah, let herself be tliere !
AUGUST VON KOTZEBUE.
The life of no other German author offers so many
interesting materials as that of Kotzebue. His vo-
luminous works, his political and literary contro-
versies with public men and writers, his travels, his
intimacy with so many illustrious and distinguished
personages, and lastly, his singular banishment, are
themes abundantly sufficient to stimulate curiosity
and awaken interest. As, however, there are two
or three memoirs* of Kotzebue already before the
public, and as the principal incidents of his life are
pretty generally known, it will be needless to enter
much into detail in the j)resent short narrative.
Kotzebue was born in 17^>1, at Weimar, and was
the only son of the Counsellor of legation at Saxe
Weimar. His parents and teachers, and all with
whom he associated, were struck Avith early indica-
tions of that liveliness of imagination and strong pre-
dilection for plays ami theatrical anuisements, which
decided his taste, and determined tlu" principal occupa-
tion of his after life. At tlie Gymnasium he was for-
tunate enough to be for a considerable time the pupil
of the ingenious Musaus. In his sixteenth year lie
* See particularly the one translated from the ficrnirtn, reiciitly pub-
lished by Messrs. Boosey and Sons.
56 KOTZEBUE.
went to the University of Jena, wlience he was called
to St. Petershurg by Count Gorz, the Prussian Am-
basador at the Imperial Court. From this time he
dwelt principally in Russia and Prussia, but his
changes of residence and occupation were so frequent,
that it would be endless to enumerate them. He
became successively secretary (to General Bawr),
titular coimsellor, assessor at a tribunal of appeal,
lieutenant-colonel, a private gentleman, residing at
Friedenthal, poet to the court theatre at Vienna, an
exile in Siberia, manager of the German theatre at
St. Petersburg, &c. &c.
In the last great war betwixt Buonaparte and the
Allied Sovereigns, he took the lead of the political
writers against the former, exhorting the Germans,
his countrymen, to die in the defence of that
liberty which he afterwards had the baseness to
assist in wresting from them.*
The writings of Kotzebue are so numerous, that no
German author can be compared to him in point of
fertility, excepting Hans Sacks. Tliey are of very
unequal merit ; his satirical comedies are perhaps his
best productions : as a lyric poet he did not rise high
enough to claim any extraordinary praise.
* The manner of his death is a matter of notoriety.
KOTZEBUE. 57
MINSTREL-SONG,
IN THE TRAGEDY OF BAYARD.
To Gargliano's willow'd shore,
Haste, Sister, haste away ;
There the Knight bade the tempest roar,
Tlie vengeful lightning play :
And bade the storm's terrific gloom.
Approach and menace haughty Rome.
See, on the bridge the Hero stand,
Wliile deaf ning shouts resound ;
Alone oppose a warlike band.
And scatter death around ; —
His single arm the pass sustain,
And pressing cohorts storm in vain.
And now the martial throng survey,
Wliere rears yoft bulwark's pride ;
There urg'd the Knight the direful fray.
While Anhalt grac'd his side :
And see, fair Padua's tow'rs beneath.
Himself devote to willing death.
And now the far-fam'd day recal,
When thirteen fought with two:
Their numbers vain, they fight, they fall;
Their arms the field bestrew :
Too late the vanquish'd learn to know.
That matchless Bayard dealt the blow.
58 KOTZEßUE.
Now see Tortona's sons appear,
And haste his ire t' assuage ;
Their golden treasures haste to bear —
The victor stills his rage :
And straight ordains the proflFerd store,
To soothe and glad the friendless poor.
DEDICATION,
TO THE MOST REMARKABLE YEAR IN THE
LIFE OF KOTZEBUE.
Nor brass, nor marble, bears your honor'd names;
My glowing heart the fair inscription claims ;
Deep-grav'd it lies, to grateful Mem'ry true.
For ever legible, for ever new I
Your gen'rous succour pierc'd Siberia's gloom,
And snatch'd the exile from the darksome tomb ;
Restor'd the charm that soothes and sweetens life,
The smiling oflfspring and tlie gladden'd wife.
A theme like this, demands no lofty lay;
Let simple truth the noble deed display !
And though whate'er I write may ill withstand,
Tiie ruthless stroke of Time's destructive hand —
Still may the Muse, from cold oblivion steal,
The votive line that speaks how much I feel !
FRIEDRICH MATTHISON
vVas born in 1761 , at Hohendadeleben, near Mag-
deburg-. He was educated at Klosterberge, and
afterwards studied divinity at tbe University of
Halle. We find bim next a teacher in an institution
at Dessau, but that situation he quitted to become
private tutor to some young Livonians, with whom he
remained some time at Heidelburg, and subsequently
he accompanied them in their travels. In the year
1794, the title of Aulic Counsellor was conferred
upon Matthison, by the Prince of Hesse Homberg;
and, in 1801, he was made a Counsellor of Legation,
by the Margrave of Baden. Since 1794, he has
been retained by the Princess of Anhalt Dessau,
in the capacity of lecturer and attendant on lier tra-
vels : with that illustrious personage he visited, in
1795-6, Rome and Naples, and, in 1799 — 1801, the
Tyrol and Switzerland. His ordinary place of abode
is Wörlitz, near Dessau.
Matthison, by his extraordinary talent for lyric
poetry, has attained such deserved celebrity, that he
has long since been ranked among the most popular
Poets of Germany. He is the German Gray. His
strains possess a degree of grace and wildness, Avliich
is not often to be met with in the poetical composi-
tions of his countrymen. His language is remark-
60 MATTHISON.
ably correct, and his fictions bear the impress of
Truth and Nature. That elegance and polish which
characterize his poems, are equally visible in his
prose writing's. His poetical works are published in
one small volume, and those in prose, consisting
principally of his "Erinnerungen," in 4 vols. 8vo.
Matthison was the editor of the "Lyrische Antho-
logie," a selection of pieces by the German Poets
from the earliest period. This work would have had
a claim to be styled classical, if Matthison had
not taken the unwarrantable liberty of altering, and
even expunging, essential passages in almost every
poem.
SONG.
Whene'er, at Daylight's parting gleam,
A smiling form salutes my love.
And loiters near the murm'ring stream.
And glides beneath the conscious grove —
Ah ! then thy Damon's spirit see :
Soft joy and peace it brings to thee !
And when at Moonlight's sober ray.
Thou dream'st, perchance, of love and me :
As through the pines the breezes play,
And whisper dying melody —
While tender bodings prompt the sigh ;
Tliy Damon's spirit hovers nigh.
MATTHISON. 61
When o'er thy mind soft musings steal,
As thou the pleasing- past hast scann'd ;
Should'st thou a gentle pressure feel,
Like Zephyr's kiss, o'er lip and hand ; —
And should the glimm'ring taper fade ;
Then near thee roams thy Lover's shade.
And when, at Midnight's solemn tide.
As soft the rolling planets shine ;
Like iEol's harp, thy couch heside.
Thou hear'st the words "for ever thine!"
Then slumber sweet, my Spirit's there,
And peace and joy it brings my Fair!
MAY-SONG.
Joy, and Love, awake the Paean!
Lead the dance, the chorus lead:
May bedecks the conscious bower.
Flora paints the verdant mead :
Deep in yon sequester'd valley,
Am'rous warblings glad the grove ;
There, as Ev'ning's sliade advances.
Meets the youth his plighted love.
Gay assembly, ball, and op'ra,
Charm the city youth and maid ;
Shepherds court the vernal zephyrs ;
Shepherds haunt the bow'ry shade :
62 MATTHISON.
Crown the cup with new hlown-roses,
List as waves the M-hisp'ring pine ;
Seek the Woodland's inmost shelter,
Near the mossy fount recline.
Crop the flow'ret, cidl the posey,
Garlands wreathe for Beauty's hair ;
Dance where hawthorns scatter odours.
Hail the twilight, pair and pair :
Now the nectar'd kiss he rifled J
Now attun'd the raptur'd lay !
Gayly seize Life's fleeting treasures ;
INIay and Youth soon haste away !
WARNING.
Have ye not seen, in silent Summer's night,
Tlie Moon through groves of shadowy cypress peep.
Whilst all around quiescent Nature sank
In awfid slumber, and scarce seem'd to breathe.
And each heart melted in sweet melancholy ?
Saw ye not, from Geneva's lake, the head
Of Mont-Blanc glow in Ev'ning's golden beam?
Have you not seen, from rugged rocks, the Rhine,
Like ever thund'ring tempests cast himself
In highly tow'ring foamy billows down?
Saw ye not Ocean, by the storm provok'd.
With untam'd fury, now toward high heav'n
Hurl shatter'd fleets, now downwards to the dark
MATTHISON. 63
Deeps rush, and thund'ring heave himself again,
And highly surging dash against the shore,
Deform, with crags, the pale and batter'd corse?
— If ye have seen all this — then, I conjure you,
Ye Poetasters, by the Charites
And Muses, by old Homer's sacred spirit,
By Oberon's and Ydris' magic world,
And by those heights where Klopstock's Genius
First hover'd, by the music of the harps
Of Fingal's bards, by Petrarch's hallow'd fount,
And by the laurel shading Maro's grave ;
By that fara'd paradise of fairy-land
Where, though a hero, once Rinahlo fell ;
By Milton's " Holy Light," by the dim veil
Thrown over Dante's night-piece, by the death
Of Ugolino, Hamlet's agony,
"To be or not to be" — by the o'erfluw
Of grief paternal at Narcissa's tomb.
By Gesner's pastoral landscape, and by all
That's holy to the Poet, I conjure you,
Profane not in your speech, nor in yoin- song,
The most religious shrine of godly Nature
By empty foam of words, and idle rant.
By false and forced sensibility —
For, know, she doth disdain the rhyming tribe
"Who bring her this Cain's sacrifice, and calls
Loud on the storm of Time, to scourge away
Th' unwholesome vapours, her abomination.
MUCHLER.
Karl Müchler was born in 17^3, at Stargard, in
Pomerania, and is at present resident in Berlin,
where he holds the office of Counsellor of War.
He has acquired celebrity chiefly by his lyric poems
and epigrams — in that style he ranks among the
most popular writers of the day. His songs are
easy and pleasing, his diction pure, and his versifi-
cation highly melodious. The second edition of his
Poems was published at Berlin, in 1802.
THE ABSENT FAIR.
Now milder blows the Zephyr,
That M-aves the tender spray ; —
Now Flora's lavish'd treasures,
Proclaim the welcome JNIay :
See vernal joys alluring ;
Soft joys, I fain would own!
But, ah I no Spring can charm me ;—
My love, alas! is flown!
MJüCHIiER.
In vain the lap of Nature
Is rob'd in freshest green ; —
In vain the rosebud opens,
And violets deck the scene.
No more I cull the flow'ret :
Dear task ! 'twas once my own !
Ah ! then, it deek'd her bosom : —
But now, alas ! she's flown !
In vain the leafy bower
Now spreads its cooling shade;
In vain the Moon's soft lustre
Invites me {»'er the mead.
Ah ! once the bow'r could charm me ;
Its sweets I once could own !
There first I saw and lov'd her :
But now, alas ! she's flown !
65
MULLER.
THE INVITATION.
vvOME, Laura, dearest maid,
Let rural joys delight thee;
Stern Winter's storms are laid.
And hill and vale invite thee,
In vernal pomp array'd.
Yon lucid Lake serene,
See fragrant hawthorns border ;
See lambkins, o'er the green,
Disport in gay disorder.
And deck the smiling scene.
From yonder bow'ry shade.
Sad, love-lorn anguish pouring;
The turtle fills the glade.
His absent mate alluring,
That loiters down the mead.
MULLER.
67
Nor calls the dove in vain ;
Back flies the soften'd rover.
Dear maid, then, soothe my pain,
Regard thy plaintive lover : —
O come, dear maid, again!
VALERIUS WILHELM NEUBECK.
IVeubeck was born in 1763, at Armstadt, in Thu-
ringia; he now practises as a physician at Sleina, in
Lower Silesia. His didactic poem, "De Gesund-
brunnen," gave him at once the reputation of a
German classic, and at the same time enriched the
literature of that country with a species of poetry,
which till then had been but little cultivated. It is
a poem of four cantos, of which the principal subject
is the mineral waters. The plan is simple, and the
execution beautiful ; the whole displays much origi-
nal invention, and indicates extraordinary talents,
mellowed by the study of the purest models of
antiquity.
THE PRAISE OF IRON.
FROM THE GESUNDBRUNNEN, A rOEM, IN FOUR CANTOS.
Now strike, my lyre, thy strongest, fullest tones.
Now sing the praise of Iron — 'mongst the bards.
So potent in Tliuiskon's sacred land ;
None sang the fruits of the Teutonic hills —
No festal lay was heard to Iron's praise
Beneath the sacred oaks, which stretch their roots
NEUBECK. 69
Down to the silent caves, where Nature bids
Her seeds to g'erm, and ripe in gentle growth —
Hail ! noble present of our native heights I
Despis'd by many, who with foolish sense,
Gold's treach'rous splendor more revere, and covet
More than thee, Iron, and thy modest sheen! —
Ye, sons of Herrmann! undervalue not.
Scorn not this treasure of your native mountains.
Hear me ! — I sing the worth of native wealth —
Say ! whence doth War derive his glitt'ring arms ?
'Tis Iron, harden'd in the temp'ring fire
To steel, and fashion'd on the anvil-head,
Tlien sharpen'd by the Artist's busy hand.
That arms the Hero — Iron guards his breast —
Hail ! noble tribute of our native heights !
Accept the incense of my song — thou giv'st
Th' avenging sword into his hand to wage
The war of Justice, thou assistest him
To conquer for his country in the field.
Yet greater is thy praise in peace, and fairer
Tliy blessing! — Verily, I love thee more,
My song more fervently salutes thee, when
Tlie workman's hand hath on the anvil shap'd
Thee to the shining arms of peace, whicli ne'er
Inhuman warriors with the innocent blood
Shall stain of slumb'ring infants — evermore
The softest rural joys expand my heart,
And from my quiv'ring lips in holy hymns
Stream out, whene'er 1 see tliee, shining, peep
From out the clodded furrow ; when I hear
Tlie sweeping scythe upon the flow'ry mead,
70 NKUBECK.
Or 'midst the sinking ears, the grateful sound
Of the shrill sickle, where the nuthrown maid
Weaves the blue corn flow'rs in the wisp of straw,
To bind the fairest sheaf — when in the time.
The merry vintage-time, I hear the knife
Rubb'd on the grating whetstone, to collect
The gifts of Autumn on tlie cluster'd hills —
Hail ! useful ore ! the choir of social Arts
Join with my numbers, in thy well-earn'd praise.
Ne'er had Praxiteles the marble form'd
With silver chissel into breathing life —
No palace from the mountain's rocky ribs
Corinthian built, had risen without thee
To the astonish'd clouds — without thy help,
Arachne's art would never know to trace
The varied picture on the glossy silk —
Say, would the horse, if shod with purest gold.
More safely scour the ice, or climb the mountain-path?
Oh I how would the bold Pilot in the wastes
Of ocean find a way, when round about
The heav'ns are hung with dreary, stormy clouds.
Like curtains shutting out the friendly stars.
Which else through labyrinths of treach'rous sands,
And hurrying whirl-pools, by a golden clue
Would safely lead him, that he founder not?
Through the dread night art thou, respondent needle !
To him a faithful oracle, which reads
With magic tremblings, in what cloudy range
Of Heav'n the Dog-Star ; — where Arcturus ; — where
The sev'nfold Pleiads, and Orion shine.
N O S T I Z.
SONG.
»See, dear Maid, in silent languor.
Beauteous Nature droops her head ;
While the dews of eve descending.
Cool the dappled, fragrant mead.
Already, the soft trilling songsters,
That Avak'd the gay Grove are asleep ;
Already, the Sun's parting splendor
Illumines the far distant deep.
So my day's faint taper glimmers,
Fades, and sinks, and dies away;
Thus the song of rapture ceases ;
Thus my fondest hopes decay.
Ah ! since thou hast left me to sorrow,
I rove the wild desert alone ;
My cheek, that was whilom so ruddy.
Is wan as the gleam of the moon.
When a wreath I fain would twine thee,
From the hloomy rose-bush torn,
(Meet to deck thy flowing tresses,)
Deep I felt the pungent thorn.
Sure this my Life's image resembles ; —
Ah ! such should my destiny be !
The thorn's sharpest puncture I'd suffer.
Would fate doom the roses for thee.
CHRISTIAN ADOLP OVERBECK.
The productions of O verbeck are few in number,
and consist chiefly of Lyric Poems, Tlie little he
has written, has found its way into most of the selec-
tions from the German Poets and Prose Writers ;
that is, perhaps, the best testimony of its merit.
Few particulars are known of his life : all that we
have it in our power to state is, that he was born
in 1755, at Lübeck; that he is still resident in that
town, and has attained the rank of a Senator.
SONG.
Blossom, loveliest flower,
Planted by this hand ;
Sweetest odours shower,
Brightest tints expand.
Envied joys attend thee.
To my love I'll send thee,
On her breast to lie :
Happy destiny !
Peggy, little charmer.
Is my best-lov'd maid ;
Should ill fortune harm her.
Sure I'd weep me dead.
OTERBECK.
Other maids excelling.
She alone has dwelling
In my inmost breast ;
There she reigns confest.
Sure a girl so pretty
Nowhere can he found :
And though blooming Kitty
Charms the village round,
Yet, I must avow it,
Careless who may know it,
Might 1 Kitty wed,
"No," should soon be said.
Yes, the little smiler.
Holds my heart alone ;
Nor will I beguile her,
When Tm older grown.
Yes, her beauties move me,
Next to heav'n above me ;
Nothing have I here,
Half, Oh ! half so dear !
Oft the lads and lasses
Mock my tender care;
Oft, as Peggy passes,
Slily at me stare.
Nought their jeering moves me,
Dearest Peggy loves me :
Soon they all shall see,
Peggy wed with me.
73
f.
74 OVERBECK.
Happy-fated flower,
Ere to her you fly,
Blossom near my bower,
'Neath the vernal sky.
Soon thy joy encreasing,
Peggy's bosom gracing,
Kisses wait for thee ;
One, perchance, for me !
WATER-PIECE.
Delighted, my fancy still wanders.
Where flows the clear stream in meanders —
Still paints the gay bark on its tide.
Dear bark, where with bliss all elated,
Near Lucy, sweet maid, so oft seated,
I have lov'd down the current to glide.
We sail'd on its soft-heaving billows.
And 'neath the cool shade of its willows,
Mark'd how the fish sported and play'd ;
We mark'd the green margin so blooming.
As Spring all its charms was resuming,
And saw the lambs skip o'er the mead.
Sweet days ! how I love to review them !
How fondly I long to renew them !
Dear maid, were they pleasing to thee?
If so, let us ship us together,
And steer through Life's fair and foul weather-
And Cupid our pilot shall be.
S A L I S.
Johann Gaudenz Freiherr von Salis, was born the
26th of December, 1762, at Seewis, in the country
of the Grisons. He served in the Swiss Guard at
Versailles, until the beginning of the French Revo-
lution, and was under the command of General
Montesquieu, during the conquest of Savoy. Subse-
quent to the year 1798, he was Inspector-general of
the militia, in Switzerland, without any fixed abode.
At present he holds no public office, but resides at
Malans, in the Country of the Grisons.
Salis is a favorite poet in Germany. His lan-
guage is dignified and generally correct. Occasion-
ally, a few Helvetian idioms remind us, that he is a
native of a country where the classical High German
dialect is forced to submit to changes which the
Goethes and Schillers, who have done so much to-
wards purifying its fountain, cannot consider other-
wise than barbarous. Salis is more successful in the
lyric, than in any other species of poetical composi-
tion ; for the lofty scope of the ode, and the solemn
sublimity of the hymn, his genius was evidently unfit.
In almost every poem, however slight, we can dis-
cover whom he has chosen for his model. Matthi-
son, his intimate friend, and the editor of his Works,
manifestly surpasses him in originality, and in the
variety and richness of poetic colouring ; but does
not equal him in depth and delicacy of feeling, particu-
larly in the elegy. The fourth and improved edition
of Salis's Poems, appeared at Zurich, in 1803.
76
SPRING.
Fresher green the lawns display,
Vernal odours scent the dale ;
Gayly trills the linnet's lay,
Sweetly wails the nightingale.
See the grove its huds disclose ;
Love awakes the soft recess :
Now each shepherd bolder grows,
Kinder ev'ry shepherdess !
Now the blossom rears its head.
Spring recals its blooming pride ;
Spring enamels all the mead,
Decks the hillock's sloping side.
See the lily of the vale.
Peeping through its leafy shade,
Half its modest charms conceal :
Garland meet for spotless maid !
Now the woodbine's twining shade,
Sweetly forms the rustic bower; —
Soft retreat of youth and maid.
True to Love's appointed hour !
Fonder grows the Zephyr's kiss.
Pleasure wakes at Nature's call ;
Vernal life, and thrilling bliss,
Feels the heart, that feels at all !
CHRISTIAN LAVINUS FREDERIC
SANDER.
Of the private life and history of this excellent
writer, little is known. lie is at present Secretary to
the Board of Roads, at Copenhagen. Though a native
of Denmark, as it appears, his Works are all written
in German, and he is acknowledged to possess a pre-
eminent rank among the hest comic writers, in prose
and verse, which Germany boasts of as her own.
DEATH'S CRADLE SONG.
How snug is my pillow, my bedding how warm !
To slumber how tempting, how shelter'd from harm !
See Spring, happy season, new garnish the boMers,
And strew o'er my couch its first buds and its flowers !
The nightingale too, her soft lay shall repeat. —
Thy slumber how sweet !
How snug is my pillow, my bedding how warm !
How safe lies the sleeper from care and alarm I
When Winter, in storms and in darkness array'd,
My couch with a carpet of snow shall o'erspread.
Still thou shalt behold the rude tempest increase,
Yet slumber in peace !
On earth is fair Virtue unsought and unknown,
And heart-felt enjoyment from mortals is flown.
There Hope will deceive thee, and Love will betray,
And torture thy bosom by night and by day :
While here smiles an angel ; — kind Death is his name,
And brightens thy dream !
Come, then, weary pilgrim, nor startle with dread;
My pillow is downy, and warm is my bed :
I'll bear thy hard burden, thy griefs will I share,
And lull thee to slumber, and still thy despair.
Ah ! come, and while Death thus invites to repose,
Forget all thy woes !
FRIEDRICH VON SCHILLER,
Was born on the lOth of November, 1759, at Mar-
bach, in Wirtemberg, where his father then held
a Lieutenant's commission in the Duke's service.
Schiller gave early indications of an uncommonly
vivid imagination, and was attracted by nothing so
strongly as by the fictions of poesy. The prophets
of the Old Testament were his first favorite objects
of study ; above all, he was delighted with Ezekiel.
Klopstuck's Messiah next engaged his attention, and
we may here take occasion to observe, that no other
poet had so powerful an influence on the original
formation of his character. It was owing to the
sacred poetry of that great genius, that religious
feelings held, for a long period, exclusive possession
of Schiller's mind, and determined him at first to
make divinity his principal study, and profession for
life. After a considerable lapse of time he altered
that resolution, and applied himself to the study of
medicine. With the exception of Klopstock's
Works, his acquaintance with books was hitherto
limited to the Eneis and Luther's excellent trans-
lation of the Bible. He now began to try his own
strength in poetry, and wrote an epic, of which
Moses was the hero : but the tragedies of Ugolino
and Goetz von Berlichingen, gave quite a difi^erent
80 SCHILLER.
direction to his genius, and made him, as it were in
his own despite, a tragic poet. It was not till after
he had repeatedly perused these two tragedies, and
committed a considerable portion of them to me-
mory, that he became acquainted with the immortal
Shakespeare, who long excluded every other poet
from his thoughts, and became the object of his
entire admiration, the model of his enthusiasm, and
the aim towards which he directed all his efforts of
imitation. In enumerating, however, the writers
who have produced a visible effect on the character,
style, and language of Schiller's Works, we must
not forget Lessing, whose plays, and Leisentz, whose
tragedy, (Julius of Tarent), contributed their influ-
ence to that of the other great productions we have
before alluded to. Tlie early dramas of Schiller
betrayed rather the marks of laborious and even
slavish imitation, than evinced the powers of an
original and creative genius. That genius did not
display the fulness of its splendor, until the year
1777» when our author was seventeen years of age,
and distinguished himself by the production of his
Robbers. During the first performance of that tra-
gedy, at Manheim, it excited the displeasure of a
person of distinction, from the country of Grisons,
in consequence of a passage that reflected upon the
natives of that country, Avho were represented as
highwaymen ; and a formal complaint being laid
before the Duke, Schiller was prohibited from writ-
ing in future. This circumstance determined our
poet to quit the Duke's service. He went first to
SCHILLER.
81
Manheim, and, throug-h some friendly recommenda-
tions, was engaged to write for a stage, wliich was,
at this period, the most brilliant in all Germany.
Here he produced his Fiesko, and his Kabale und
Liebe, better known in England by the title of The
Minister. This situation, however, did not long
content him, for he successively changed his resi-
dence to Dresden, Leipzig, and Weimar. In 1789,
Goethe exerted his interest to procure for him a
professorship of philosophy at Jena, and from that
chair Schiller delivered lectures on history, and the
philosophy of taste, with great credit to himself, and
to the high gratification of his audience.
At Dresden he wrote his Memoirs, and his His-
tory of the Thirty Years' War ; there, too, he became
entangled in the maze of Kant's philosopiiy, and, by
overstrained intellectual exertion, brought on that
illness which occasioned his premature death. After
receiving, in 175>5, the appointment of professor of
history, in the same University, he was prevailed
upon by Goethe to remove from Jena to Weimar,
where he experienced some improvement in health,
and gave to the world the most finished productions
of his Muse. In 1802, the Emperor of Germany
conferred upon him the distinction of nobility, an
honor which he enjoyed but for a short time, for,
after his return from a journey to Berlin, in 1804,
he had another attack of his asthmatic complaint ;
this was succeeded by a nervous fever which wasted
the remnant of his strength, and terminated his
honorable life on the 9th of May, 1805.
M
82 SCHILLER.
Schiller, the great favorite of the German nation,
possessed talents of so high an order, and so varied
a description, that in each separate sphere of their
exertion he may claim a principal rank amongst the
writers of his country. He has written in many
forms and upon many subjects ; but such is the
richness, the depth, the originality of his composi-
tions, that in no one style which he deigned to adopt,
either in prose or poetry, can Germany boast of
having produced a writer who has surpassed him.
The first complete collection of his Works was pub-
lished at Tubingen, in 12 vols. 8vo. Of those Works,
we must, above all, notice his "^fheater," containing.
Die Rauber, Kabale und Liebe, Fiesko, Braut von
Messina, Don Carlos, Maria Stuart, Jungfrau von Or-
leans, Teil, and the last in order, but first in merit,
his Wallenstein. The most celebrated of his other
Avritings are his Miscellaneous Poems, his "Thirty
Years' War," and History of the Rebellion of the
Low Countries against Spain.
THE FAITHFUL KNIGHT
A BALLAD.
" Love, but such as brothers claim,
Dares my heart bestow ;
More, dear Youth, forbear to name;
More were cause of woe !
Fain I'd see thee cahn appear,
Cahu from hence depart —
'Gainst that soft infectious tear,
Must I steel my heart !"
8^ SCHILLER.
Dumb Avith grief, the lover liears,
Lost in fond dismay,
Clasps the damsel, checks his tears,
Mounts and hies away :
Heads his trusty vassal band.
Speeds to Palestine : —
Sons of hardy Switzerland,
Badg'd with holy sign.
Perils dire the hero braves,
Deathless deeds performs ;
Still his helmet's plumage waves,
Wliere the battle storms :
And the name of Switzerland
Scars the faithless foe ;
Yet the Youth, by love enchain'd.
Wastes with tender woe.
Twelve slow moons he bears his grief;
Longer cannot bear ;
Vainly sighs for kind relief.
Then forsakes the war.
Spies a bark, on Joppa's strand,
Swell its spreading sails ;
Hies on board, and seeks the land
Where his fair-one dwells.
Now the wand'rcr at her gate.
Thrills witli tender fears;
Ah ! what bitter ills await.
When these words he hears :
SCHILLER.
"She thou seek'st now bears the veil,
Now is Heaven's bride ;
Yester-morn, at matins' bell,
To the world she died."
Straight he shuns his native vale.
Shuns his father's board —
Quits the scenes he lov'd so well,
Quits his steed and sword:
Lives unknown, unmark'd, forlorn,
Far from prying eyes ;
Sackcloth garb, and beard unshorn,
Youth's fair prime disguise.
And, ere long, a simple shed,
Near yon slope he rears,
AYliere the cloister's tow'ry head
O'er the grove appears ;
There, from morning's blushing sky,
Down to setting sun,
Hope still beaming in his eye.
Sits the Youth alone :
Sits and eyes the cloister's pile.
Eyes its hallow'd bounds —
Eyes the window of her cell.
Till the casement sounds ;
Till the lov'd recluse is seen,
Till the sainted maid
Casts a look, as TIeav'n serere,
J)own the silent glade.
85
86 SCHILLER.
Then, at each returning night,
Sinks to soothing dreams ;
Grateful hails the welcome light,
When the morning beams.
Patient still, for many a day,
Many a year's long round,
Waits the ling'ring hour away,
For that casement's sound : —
Till the lov'd recluse is seen,
Till the sainted maid
Casts a look, as Heav'n serene,
Down the silent glade.
And as Death, one fated morn.
Ends his tender care.
Still his looks, all pallid, turn
Tow'rd the cloister'd fair I
ON THE WORKS OF ANTIQUE ART
AT PARIS.
What the Arts of Greece created,
Vainly hath the Gaul translated
To the hanks of Seine —
Let grand Museums proudly boast
The trophies of a plund'ring host —
The triumph is in vain.
scmr.i-ER.
Dumb will she be to him for ever —
She from her pedestal will never
Descend — 'tis he alone
Is of the heav'nly Muse possest,
Who feels her in his glowing breast —
To Vandals she is stone.
87
CANADIAN DEATH-SONG.
Seated on his sedgy mat,
See the honor'd dead ;
All erect, as erst he sat.
Ere his spirit fled.
Where is now his sturdy gripe ?
Where his manhood's bloom?
Wliere the breath, that, from his pipe,
Puff'd the votive fume?
Wliere the eye, that o'er the plain,
Mark'd the rein-deer's way ;
Sharper than the falcon's ken
Beam'd its piercing ray?
Where the leg, whose ample stride
Brush'd the drifted snow?
Fleet as stag, the woodland's pride.
Fleet as mountain roe !
88 SCHILLER.
Where the arm, whose peerless might
Bent the stubborn bow ?
(Death has clos"d his eyes in night;)
Nerveless hangs it now !
Cease the plaint; he soars above,
Far from snow and hail;
Rambles o'er the shady grove.
Breathes the healthful gale.
There, in ev'ry tangled brake,
Throng the feather'd brood ;
Fishes swarm the lucid lake ;
Game, the tufted wood.
There with happy souls he eats.
Quaffs his bev'rage there ;
VVliile we sing his valiant feats.
And his grave prepare.
Bring the gifts, the last sad boon;
Songs funereal raise : —
In his silent grave be thrown
AH the dead can please.
'Neath him let his hatchet lie,
Ting'd with hostile blood ;
Bring the grim bear's brawny thigh ;
Dreary is the road !
Bring the knife, whose sharpen'd blade
Scalp'd the prostrate foe ;
O'er his grave, the scalps be laid,
Rang'd in grisly row.
SCHILLER.
89
Store his hand with colours meet,
Ere he take his flight ;
Tliat his shade the ghosts may greet,
Beaming crimson light !
HYMN TO JOY.
Joy, from source celestial springing,
Inmate of Elysian bow'r ;
Touch'd by thee, with rapture glowing,
We invoke thy heavenly power.
Tyrant Custom's harsh distinctions
Sink before thy just award : —
Beggars smile the peers of princes.
Where thy magic voice is heard.
CHORUS.
Fellow myriads, far and near!
Hail, and take the proffer'd hand !
Sure a pow'r to mortals bland.
Dwells above yon starry sphere !
He whom happier fortune favours —
He who boasts a friend that's true —
He whom Love's soft transport kindles —
Let him join the gladsome crew.
N
90 SCHILLER.
But the wretch whose wayward fortunes,
Love and Friendship's hoons restrain ;
Let him quit the joyous hanquet:
Weeping-, quit the genial train !
CHORUS.
Sacred pow'r of Sympathy I
All creation owns thy sway :
To the brighter realms of day
Thou shalt lift thy votary !
All that breathes through varied Nature
Sips the nectar'd cup of Joy :
Good and bad, with equal ardour,
Fondly crowd her roseate way.
Love, and wine, and Friendship's treasure,
Joy with lavish hand bestows :
Joy the abject reptile gladdens —
While on high the seraph glows !
CHORUS.
Mortals, own the Deity ;
Own the pow'r of Nature's lord :
Let the rapturous loud accord
Reach the blissful seats on high !
Joy, unceasing source of motion,
Animates the varied scene ;
Potent spring of wide creation,
Joy impels the vast machine.
SCHILLER. 91
Buds to flow'rs her influence ripens,
Suns she draws from realms of day :
Rolls the spheres through boundless ether,
Far beyond the tube's survey.
CHORUS.
Joyous as the rolling sphere
Wanders through etherial space,
Let us speed our mortal race ;
Gayly speed our short career !
Smiling sweet in Truth's bright mirror,
Joy the Searcher's toil requites ;
Joy, the prize of mild endurance,
Leads to virtue's steepy heights.
See, on Faith's refulgent mountain,
High aloft her banners wave !
Joy pervades the choir of angels ; —
Joy shall reach the darksome grave.
CHORUS.
Learn the ills of Life to bear.
Check the tear, and still the sigh;
Heav'n rewards the victory.
High above yon spangled sphere.
Nought requites indulgent Heaven:
Let us emulate its care.
Sons of Poverty and Sorrow,
Haste, and find a welcome here.
92 SCHILLER.
Fell Revenge and bitter Rancour
Shun the social, gay retreat:
Here, be ev'ry foe forgiven; —
Pardon ev'ry wrong await!
CHORUS.
Jars and broils no more be heard ;
Peace her olive-wand displays !
He, whose eye the globe surveys,
Soon shall judge as we award !
Sparkling high in flowing glasses.
Flights sublime shall Joy inspire —
Cannibals inhale soft mercy ;
Wild Despair — heroic fire.
Now the foaming goblet circles ;
Gayly quafi" the gen'rous wine :
Wine, the gift of bounteous Nature !
Praise the pow'r that gave the vine !
CHORUS.
He, whose praise the tuneful spheres
Chaunt in ceaseless harmony ;
He, who dwells above the sky.
Gave the vine to soothe our cares !
Calmly bear the frowns of Fortune ;
Soothe the heart oppress'd with woe
Sacred keep the plighted promise ;
True alike to friend and foe.
SCHILLER 93
Manly pride display to Princes ;
Give to modest worth its due ;
Cherish truth and all its vot'ries ;
Deprecate the perjur'd crew.
CHORUS.
Closer knit our holy bands ;
Low at Truth's bright altar bow :
Swear to keep the plighted vow ;
Swear by Him, who all commands!
Wide may sacred Freedom triumph !
E'en may Pity Vice await;
Hope attend Life's latest glimmer; —
Mercy ward the felon's fate.
Lo, the shrowded dead shall quicken !
Mortals, list, and Heav'n adore.
Ev'ry crime shall be forgiven ;
Death and hell shall be no more !
CHORUS.
Peace, at Life's departing scene ;
Soft repose beneath the tomb ;
Looks benign, and gracious doom,
From the awful judge of men !
HERO AND LEANDER.
A BALLAD.
See yon airy turrets rise
On either strand, and mock the skies,
And catch the golden gleam of day ;
Where hoary Hellespontus swells,
As through the rocky Dardanelles,
He proudly works his foamy way.
And mark the storm, whose fury tore
Old Asia from Europa's shore ; —
Yet Love, imdaunted, dares to brave
The terrors of the madd'ning wave.
SCHir.I-EK.
To Hero's eyes Leander bow\l,
Her cheek with yielding blushes glow'd,
And Cupid smil'd, and blest the pair.
The maid, in grace with Hebe vied,
The youth, of all the swains the pride
That gayly urg'd the sylvan war.
But soon paternal hate destroys
The tender blossoms of their joys ;
And Love's soft accents cease to flow.
And rapture yields to lonely woe.
And now, from Sestos' gloomy towV,
That echoes to the surge's roar.
And high o'erhangs the briny flood ;
The maid in silent anguish lost.
Surveys Abydos' shelvy coast.
Her lov'd Leander's sad abode.
No friendly bridge, alas ! was there.
To bear him to the weeping fair ;
No gliding bark her eyes survey —
Yet, vent'rous Love explores the way.
The Cretan bow'rs entangled maze,
Daedalian art in vain shall raise ; —
Inventive Love detects the clue !
The monster's savage rage he quells.
The fire-exhaling steer expells.
And yokes him to the peaceful plough.
Nor Styx, that ninefold winds his way,
The god's resistless course can stay :
Though hell's dire forms around him glide,
Yet Love redeems the Thracian bri(U',.
95
96 SCHILLER.
Leander, too, whose looks impart
The tender griefs that rend his heart,
With new-bom ardour Love supplies.
When daylight pales its fervid ray.
His glowing bosom cleaves the spray,
And through the dashing surge he hies :
He shoots athwart the liquid plain,
And pants the friendly shore to gain.
Where high upon the darksome tow'r,
The flambeau cheers the lonely hour.
Now bless'd with Beauty's fondest smile,
Tlie youth forgets his recent toil.
And ev'ry pang he felt before :
Love's sweet reward the hour employs ;
He revels in celestial joys,
For him alone reserv'd in store ; —
Till mom obtrusive 'gins to beam.
And chase the Lover's blissful dream.
Hard task ! her snowy arms to leave,
And tempt again the stormy wave !
Thus, thrice ten times had Phoebus' ray
Unbarr'd the orient gates of day.
And wing'd with joy each moment flew ; —
In sweetest joys of stolen love.
As Jove himself might sigh to prove;
For ever young, and ever new !
Nor bliss sincere shall mortals know.
Whose bosom 'scapes the shafts of woe.
Through ill, we ev'ry good attain.
And Love rewards an age of pain !
SCHILLER. 97
Bright Hesper and Aurora rise
Alternate in the vaulted skies,
Nor yet perceive the happy pair,
That Autumn thins the bowVy shade ;
Nor dream that brumal blasts invade,
And chill, and nip tlte fading year.
But still with secret joy they trace
Each waning day's contracted space ;
And bless the gods with fond delight.
That longer grows each welcome night.
Already now had night and day,
Held o'er the world an equal sway,
When pensive from the castle- wall,
The lonely maid, with anxious eye.
Beheld the sun descend the sky.
And haste on Thetis' lap to fall.
Each ruder wind was hush'd to sleep.
Unruffled lay the grassy deep,
And all its smooth expanse confess'd.
The purpled glories of the west-
Gay shoals of wanton dolphins ride
Disporting on the crystal tide.
And glitter to the setting ray ;
Wliile, rising from their dark abodes,
A varied train of wat'ry gods
Emerge, and grace departing day.
Nor other eyes than their's attest
The story of the nightly guest.
And none the am'rous theft reveal'd,
For Hecate every mouth had seal'd.
98 SCHILLER.
Slie gaz'd, and hail'd the placid flood,
And thus address'd the guardian God,
With accent bland and tearful eye :
" Propitious Power, canst thou beguile?
"Shall ruin lurk in Nature's smile?
"Ah, no! avaunt the impious lie.
" But man shall play the Traitor's part,
"And anger steel a Parent's heart;
" Yet thou art kind, and deign'st to prove,
"Tlie refuge of despairing love !
"Within these dreary walls entomb'd,
" How sad each ling'ring day had gloom'd;
"MTiat anguish mark'd the darken'd hour
" Had not the kindly wave convey'd,
*' Without or bark, or bridge's aid,
' ' The lover to tlie lonesome tow'r ?
"Tremendous is thy deep abode,
" And dire the fury of the flood;
"Yet Love's soft vows could still prevail,
"And courage mock the rising gale.
"For thou the pow'r of Love hast known,
"And bow'd before his potent throne,
' ' When Helle caught thy fond survey :
"What time the golden ram convey'd,
"Across thy wave, the timid Maid,
"In pride of Beauty's brightest day.
"A willing captiA'e to her charms,
"Thou held'st her in thy eager arms,
"And drew'st her 'neath the liquid plain,
"To grace and bless thy hidden reign.
SCHILLER. 99
"And now, immortal at thy side,
"Still blooms the beauteous captur'd bride,
"And lists, as hapless lovers wail :
"She stills the spirits of the flood,
"And smooths the sailor's trackless road,
"And gently swells his gliding^ sail.
"Auspicious Helle! goddess fair!
"Regard thy suppliant's tender pray'r!
"Avert each danger of the sea!
"And speed Leander's well-known way!"
She spoke — when, lo ! the alter'd sky
Already told the tempest nigh ;
And now she fixed, with trembling hand.
The friendly torch, whose glimm'ring ray
Should point the Lover's stormy way.
And guide him to the welcome strand.
The surgy din still louder grows.
The gale with wilder fury blows.
The stars forsake th' etherial dome.
And Nature shudders at the gloom.
Dun Night assumes her dreary reign.
And adds new terrors to the scene ;
And ev'ry cloud pours oiit its store ;
The loosen'd winds with fury sweep
The ruffled bosom of the deep.
And lightnings glare, and thunders roar.
The storm now lifts the raging wave,
Now bares old Ocean's inmost cave ;
Nor Hell's grim jaws more horrors breathe,
llian mark the yawning gulph beneath.
100 SCHILLER.
"Ah, me!" the wretched mourner cries,
And lifts to heav'n her streaming eyes ;
" How rash the boons that mortals crave !
' ' Ah ! should the Gods have heard my pray'r,
"And should Leander's luckless star,
" Have urg'd him on the faithless wave !
"Each wary bird that haunts the flood,
"Now homeward plies its airy road;
"Each lab'ring vessel speeds its way,
"And hastens to the shelt'ring bay.
"And, ah! too sure, the youth unscarr'd,
" Still dares the path so often dar'd ;
"Still yields to Love's impatient sway:
"For, as he left this conscious tow'r,
"He swore by ev'ry sacred pow'r; —
"And Death alone obstructs his way.
"And now his vig'rous arm, in vain,
" Repels the fury of the main ;
" He breasts, in vain, the dashing wave,
" And finds, alas ! a wat'ry grave.
"Invidious Power! thy placid mien,
"Was meant thy fell intent to screen;
' ' No glossy mirror shone so gay.
"Thy waves in false repose were laid,
"Till on thy smiling surface sped,
"Leander urg'd his vent'rous way —
"And now, upon thy bosom toss'd,
"Ere half the stormy flood be cross'd,
"Thou whelm'st him in thy ruthless deep,
"And leav'st despairing Love to weep !"
SCHILLER. 101
And still the Storm's increasing roar
Resounds from either rocky shore,
And each rude hillow braves the sky.
The oak-ribb'd bark contends in vain,
To stem the fury of the main ; —
No aid the Pilot's art supply :
And, lo ! the torch, whose wonted light
So oft had cheer'd the Lover's night,
Now quench'd, Avithdraws its friendly ray,
And horror holds unhoimded sway.
To Venus, now, the hapless fair
Prefers the vow of soft despair.
And calls her ])itying aid divine :
To every wind a victim vows,
A wanton steer whose stately brows
With golden horns resplendent shine.
Each goddess of the dark profound,
Each ])ow'r on high Olympus crown'd,
The wretched suppliant assails,
To quell the fury of the gales.
"And thou, divinest Leucothe,
"Whom oft, upon the shoreless sea,
"The storm-beat mariner implores;
"Who oft, propitious to his pray'r,
" Hast smooth'd the wave and still'd the air,
"O hear me, from thy coral bow'rs !
"And bear my love, thy sacred veil,
"Whose pow'r can sooth the angry gale ;
"Each terror of the deep can charm,
"And nerve the swimmer's slacken'd arm."
102 SCHILLER.
And straig'ht the wild winds softer blow,
And fair Aurora's ruddy glow
Again proclaims the new-born Day:
The sea resumes its wonted bed,
Each blast in still repose is laid,
And Morning smiles, and tall is gay.
Soft roll the lucid waves along,
And gently break the rocks among —
In playful lapse the strand explore,
And waft a pallid corse to shore.
Tis he, who still his promise keeps,
Though wrapt in Death's cold arms he sleeps ;
That well-known form the maiden view'd:
Nor one sad plaint escap'd the fair,
Nor dimm'd her eye one single tear,
But lost in torpid woe she stood.
And now, the fatal deep she eyes,
Now gazes on the vaulted skies ;
And now her kindling cheeks declare
The transient flush of wild despair.
" Ye Gods," she cries, " I own your sway —
' ' Your dreaded might ye thus display,
"Nor vows, nor tears, shall mercy find.
"In Youth's soft prime my course is sped;
" Yet, many a flow'r my path has spread,
"And sweet the lot that Fate assigned.
"While living, to thy power divine,
"These hands, O Venus, deck'd thy shrine —
"Thy willing victim now I prove ;
"llie victim of almighty Love!"
SCHILLER. 103
She spoke — and, lo ! the maddening fair.
Her robes all flutt'ring in the air,
Plung'd headlong in the closing wave :
Tfie wave each hallow'd corse »ustains ;
And rising from his deep domains,
The God himself supplies their grave.
And now, exulting in his prey.
He gladsome speeds his eddying way,
And thriftless from his urn he pours,
His clear and never-ceasing stores.
THE ANTIQUE STATUE TO THE NORTHERN
TRAVELLER.
Streams hast thou past and seas, thy curious flight
Hath led thee o'er the giddy Alpine height,
To see me nearer, to admire my frame,
Which, to the world. Fame's hundred tongues proclaim;
Tliou stand'st before me now — am I to thee
Tlie nearer now, the nearer thou to me?
THE MEED OF VIRTUE.
To Virtue's meed two ways are giv'ii
To mortals, by indulgent Heav'n —
The fortunate, by deeds attain it.
By suftering, the patient gain it —
Happy tlie man, whose mortal days
Are mark'd by both these difTrent ways.
104 SfHII.I-KR.
TO THE MUSE.
I do not know what I should be,
Were I depriv'd, my Muse, of thee —
But, sick at heart, am I to see
What thousands are, who feel not tliee.
MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS,
IN THE PARK OF FOTHERINGAY CASTLE.
From the Tragedy of" Mary Stuart."
Freedom returns — oh ! let me enjoy it,
Let me be happy, be happy with me —
Freedom invites me — oh ! let me employ it.
Skimming, with winged step, light o'er the lea —
Have I escap'd from this mansion of mourning ?
Holds me no more this sad dungeon of care?
Let me with thirsty impatience burning,
Drink in the free, the celestial air. —
Thanks to these friendly trees wliich lüde from me
My prison's bounds, and flatter my illusion;
Happy I'll dream myself, and gladly free;
Why wake me from my Dream's so sweet confusion?
From where yon misty mountains rise on high,
I can my Empire's boundaries explore,
Ajad those light clouds which steering southwards fly.
Seek the mild clime of France's genial shore ;
SCHILLER. 105
Hastening clouds ! ye meteors that fly,
Coiild I but with you speed through the sky?
Tenderly greet me the land of my youth ;
I am in sorrow, I am in restraint,
1 have none else to bear my complaint ;
Free in ether your path is seen,
Ye are not subject to this tyrant Queen.
Hear'st thou the bugle? blithly resounding,
Hear'st thou its blast through wood and plain?
Could I once more on my nimble steed bounding,
Join the jocund, the frolicsome train!
Again, oh ! sadly pleasing remembrance ;
Such were the sounds which so merry and clear.
Oft, when with music the hounds and the horn
Cheerfully wakened the slumbering mom,
On the hills of the Highhands delighted my ear.
">>.
CHRISTIAN FRIEDRICH DANIEL
SCHUBART.
Born the 26th of March, 1739.
Died the 10th of October, 1791.
The life of this unfortunate individual, replete as it
is with calamity, would, if circumstantially related,
occupy much more space than we can afford to
bestow on it; we therefore refer the reader for
further details to the memoirs drawn up by Schubart.
himself, during his confinement in the fortress of
Asperg, and shall content ourselves with noticing a
few particulars which have reference rather to his
acquirements as a writer, than to his misfortunes as
a man. He had every facility afforded to his educa-
tion, for his father was a clergyman at Oberson-
theim, in Suabia : but previous to his seventh year
he gave very slight indication of natural talents,
being at that age barely able to read and write.
It is remarkable, that his mind then suddenly
manifested those energies, which, after their de-
velopment, left him without a rival. He seemed
particularly born to excel in music. At the different
schools through which he passed, he studied
with diligence the Greek «and Roman classics, and
»hewed great fondness for Klopstock's Messiah ;
SCHUUAUT. 107
but when he entered the University of Erlangen,
he commenced that irregular, disorderly, and im-
prudent course of life, which was the main cause of
his ruin. His father, however, was satisfied with
his accomplishments, for he had learnt to preach,
to speak Jjatin, and to play with execution on the
piano forte. In the pulpit he might have excelled,
had he applied himself exclusively to this branch of
eloquence, and read the Scriptures with attention.
Latterly, he was generally accustomed to deliver his
discourses extempore, and he frequently wandered
from the subject. His father's income being small, he
was induced to accept the situation of a private tutor
at Königsbron, but soon relinquished that employ-
ment and became, throughout his subsequent life,
unsettled in his habits and place of abode ; a mode
of existence which was partly the result of inclina-
tion, and partly the effect of compulsion. Wherever
he rambled, his superior talents speedily procured
him a livelihood, which he as speedily forfeited by
his foolish and imprudent conduct. He was alter-
nately a private tutor, an organist, a lecturer, a
newspaper-writer, and sometimes nothing at all ;
but he never appeared in any capacity for a long
time together. Amongst his numerous enemies, the
clergy were the most formidable, and they succeeded
at last in accomplishing his ruin. IJanished from
Augsburg, he fled to Ulm, where he published
Die Deutsche Chronik; this work established his
fame as a writer, but at the same time procured him
many enemies. Having inserted in Die Dentschc
108
SCHUBART.
Chronik, a false report of the Empress Maria The-
resa's death, General Ried, then Imperial Minister
at Ulm, Avho was a haughty oppressive man, and his
bitterest enemy, thought this a crime sufficiently
atrocious to merit imprisonment for life. He in-
formed the Duke of Wirtemberg of the punishment
he designed for Schubart, but the Duke being equally
enraged against him, claimed him as his prisoner.
Schubart was accordingly sent to the fortress of
Asperg, where he lived, or rather languished, for
ten years, in extreme misery, without having passed
through any form of trial. At length, in the year
1787} he was set at liberty, and the Duke of AVir-
temberg, whose arbitrary mandate had destroyed his
health of body and peace of mind, made him poet to
the Court and Theatre. Three years after his
liberation he died. The most celebrated of his
works is Die Deutsche Chronik, a political pamphlet,
which, at the time of its publication, had a most
extensive sale. Next in rank to this production are
his lyric poems, and his Ideen 2W einer Aesthetik der
Ton-Kunst.
SCHUBART. 109
SONG.
A PREY to tender anguish,
Of ev'i-y joy bereav'd,
How oft I sigh and languish !
How oft by Hope deceiv'd !
Still wishing, still desiring,
To bliss in vain aspiring,
A thousand tears I shed.
In nightly tribute sped.
And Love and Fame betraying.
And Friends no longer true :
No smiles my face arraying.
No heart so fraught with woe
So pass'd my Life's sad morning :
Lost joys no more returning !
Alas ! now all around,
Is dark and cheerless found !
Ah ! why did Nature give me
A heart so soft and true ;
A heart to pain and grieve me.
At ills that others rue ?
HO SCHL'IiAKT.
Tims, others' ills bewailinpr,
And iaward griefs assailing",
With double anguish fraught,
To throb each pulse is taught.
Erelong, perchance, my sorrow
Shall find its welcome close ;
Nor distant far the morrow,
Tliat brings the wish'd repose :
When Death, with kind embracing,
Each bitter anguish chasing,
Shall mark my peaceful doom,
Beneath the silent tomb.
Then cease, my heart, to languish,
And cease to flow my tears ;
Though nought be here but anguish.
The grave shall end my cares.
On Earth's soft lap reposing.
Life's idle pageant closing.
No more shall grief assail.
Nor sorrow longer wail.
SIEGFRIED.
P R O E IM
SIAM AND GALMORA.
iSav, lonely wand'rer, whither would'st tliou stray?
The haunts of Death beset thy fearful way ;
Autumnal gales through moss-grown ruins sigh,
And Day's last blushes linger in the sky.
Straight, silent Night assumes her awful reign,
And brooding Horror saddens all the plain.
No wretch's wail, that errs at Midnight's gloom,
Shall wake the slumb'ring tenant of the tomb :
O stay thy step, nor tempt the guileful road,
Wliere Death and Darkness hold their dread abode.
Now slacks tliy jiace, askance thy footsteps rove
Does meditation lead thee to the grove?
Or yonder fading hills, with plantains crown'd,
Allure thy steps? — Or does the hallow'd ground
Entomb the ashes of the plighted fair.
And from thy widovv'd couch invite thee here
To pour thy wail, unmindful of relief,
And o'er her urn indulge voluptuous grief?
112 SIEGFRIED.
Or does in vain thy tearful eye survey,
If here, perchance, her fleeting- spirit stray ;
If 'neath the starry Night's consoling gloom
She meet, and hail thee at her silent tomh? —
If such thy tender plight, O welcome here :
And though the sainted dead no more appear,
Yet shall a tale, alike in hopeless woe.
Teach the big tear with soften'd pang to flow.
Hark ! hear'st thou not ? — e'en now, the breezy air.
Smote my still lute, and whisper'd soft despair:
To Galmor's woes, the trembling strings accord.
To her soft plaints, responsive sounds are heard.
Nor e'en the ruthless grave divides the fair,
From the dear object of her fondest care :
Lo ! where yon willow rears its verdant head.
And o'er the tombstone casts a gloomy shade.
In soft repose the hapless lovers lie.
And prompt the gentle tribute of a sigh.
Then hear the Muse their tender tale impart.
While kindred sorrows swell thy thrilling heart,
And Fancy spreads her magic pow'r around.
And stores, with gliding forms, the hallow'd ground
COUNT CHRISTIAN STOLBERG,
AND
COUNT FRIEDRICH LEOPOLD STOLBERG.
These celebrated writers and illustrious brothers,
are not more allied by birth, than by the similarity
of their literary pursuits, both havinjj devoted their
talents to poetry, and worshipped the same Muse.
Count Christian Stolberg' was born the 15th of Oc-
tober, 1748, at Hamburg. He held the office of
Chamberlain at the Danish Court, until the year
1777, when he was appointed administrator of the
Danish domains at Tremsbüttel, in Holstein. This
situation he voluntarily resigned, and was, a few
years since, living on his estate of AVindebye, near
Eckernförde, in Holstein. When at the University
of Gottingen, where he studied in company with his
younger brother, Friedrich Leopold, be belonged to
that association of youthful poets which we have
so frequently had occasion to refer to. It is a
praise equally due to both these noble brothers, that
in their earlier years they essentially contributed to
the improvement of German literature, j)articularly
of German poetry ; and that they not only formed
their own style on Grecian models, but exerted
Q
114 STOI/BERG.
themselves in diffusing through Germany, a taste
for the pure strains of poetry which has eternized
the fame of the great writers of antiquity.
Count Christian does not equal his younger
hrother in genius, wit, imagination, and energy of
expression ; neither has he written nearly so much ;
hut his verses ahound in noble and ardent sentiments,
and are rich in original ideas. His taste, like that
of his brother, inclines to descriptive poetry, but
his style is not equally vigorous and energetic.
His tone is milder, and he is more pleasing in elegiac
and lyric strains, than in the sublimity of epic narra-
tion. The Counts Stolberg have wandered, hand in
hand, towards the Temple of Fame, and they will be
fellows in immortality. Their juvenile poems were pub-
lished together in one volume, by Boje, Leipzig, 1779,
under the title of Gedichte der Brüder Christian und
Friedrich Leopold Grafen zu Stolberg. They also pub-
lished, conjointly, Schauspiele mit Chören, Leipzig,
1787 : these dramas are four in number, Theseus, Bel-
sayer, Otanes, Der Jüngling. They have both en-
riched their native literature with excellent transla-
tions ; — the elder, with versions of thirty hymns of
Homer, nine idyls of Theocritus, translations from
Sophocles, from Anacreon, from several minor Greek
poets, such as Bion, Moschus, Callimachus, and
Musjens : the younger, with a complete version of
Homer's Iliad and Odyssey, which has gone through
several editions.
Count Friedrich Leopold Stolberg, Avas born the
7th November, 17^0, in the village of Bramstedt,
STOLBERG. 115
in Holstein. He was at first in tlie Danish service,
but subsequently to tlie year 1777? Episcopal Pleni-
potentiary from the tOAvn of Lübeck to the Court of
Copenhagen; after the year 1789, Danish am-
bassador at Berlin; after 1791, President of the
Lübeck Government at Eutin; and in 1797, «as
made KnijO^ht of the Imperial Russian Order of St.
Alexander Newsky. In the year 1800 he resigned
all his offices, and, together with his whole family,
except his eldest daughter, renounced the Protestant
religion for the Roman Catholic : since that event
he has resided at Munster. His poetical works
consist of odes, elegies, lyrical songs, romances,
pieces of descriptive poetry, satires, and plays; his
productions in prose are, an account of a journey
through Germany, Switzerland, Italy, and Sicily;
also, translations of Homer, Ossian, part of Plato,
and some of the tragedies of Eschylus.
< ,
RUDOLPH.
A BALLAD.
RoDOLPH, in paternal hall,
Breath'd from War's destructive scene
Rodolph, prompt at glory's call,
Rodolph, dread of hostile Gaul,
Dread of Moor of swarthy mien.
He, a gallant son deplores.
Last of all his noble stem :
"Wliilst, amid the moss-grown towers.
As his tender w.ail he pours,
Echo wafts the mournful theme.
STOLBERG. 11/
Agnes, deck'd with golden hair,
Props his age and stills his sigh :
Mild as a dove, as May-morn fair,
Soothes a parent's sad despair,
Wipes the tear that dims his eye.
Yet herself in silent woe,
Pines by Moonlight's solemn gleam :
Albert, youth of open brow,
Breathes for her the tender vow,
And fair Agnes sighs for him.
Haughty Raymond, at whose side,
Five-score martial youths api)ear ;
Swells with vain heraldic pride.
Vaunts his trophies far and wide,
And old Rodolph holds him dear.
Albert, once, on festive day,
Kiss'd her hand, as lily fair:
Agnes' eyes, in soft dismay,
Chiding frowns Avould fain betray : —
But they only shew'd a tear !
Raymond marks the tender dame.
Eyes askance his shining blade ;
Love and rage his cheek inflame,
Wild and fierce his eyeballs gleam,
And around their fury shed.
118 STOI-BERG.
Straight his gauntlet, threat'ning war,
On her virgin lap he laid :
"Take it, Albert, and repair
" 'Neath the mill : — I'll wait thee there :"
Swift he mounts, and scours the mead.
Albert hears the fierce defy ;
Mounts his steed to seek the foe :
Proud the graceful tear to spy,
Trickling from tlie maiden's eye —
Love and honor bade it flow.
Red their burnish'd arms appear,
Gleaming in the setting sun.
Hark ! their coursers' fierce career
Shakes the plain ; the frighted deer
To their inmost covert run.
Agnes, from the castle-wall,
Casts a wistful look beneath :
Boding fears her heart appal ;
Straight she sees her Albert fall : —
Saw — with eyes that close in death.
Back the victor fait' ring hies,
(Anxious doubts his breast invade;)
Hears the wail of woe arise,
To the fair-one's chamber flies ; —
Starts — and falls upon his blade.
STOLBKRG.
Rodolph snatch'd his darling care,
Held her to his throbbing breast ;
Torpid, lost in dumb despair,
Clasp'd the cold unconscious fair,
Two long days — then sunk to rest !
119
SONG.
By moonlight's softest lustre,
With Laura, o'er the green
1 stray'd, and busy Fancy
Still paints the tender scene.
Soon breath'd the Zephyr warmer,
As hand in hand we came ;
And soon a gentle tremor
Seiz'd all my troubled frame.
My Laura's eye reflected
Mild Cynthia's silver ray !
And on her lip it trembled,
And shed a sweeter day.
A tear of love quick starting,
Fell glist'niiig from my eye ;
And tender sighs, half stifled,
To Laura softly fly.
120 STOLBERG.
All silent was the maiden,
A tear bedimm'd her sight *,
The moon the tear illumin'd,
I mark'd its pearly light.
Nor dreamt my gentle Laura,
Her eye that tear hetray'd :
The drop still palely glimmer'd.
As down her cheek it stray "d.
The landscape faded round me.
And vanish'd from my view :
Ah, surely, shall I never,
Such tender joys renew !
HYMN TO NATURE.
Holy Nature, heav'nly fair,
Lead me with thy parent care ;
In thy footsteps let me tread.
As a willing child is led.
When with care and grief opprest,
Soft 1 sink me on thy breast ;
On thy peaceful bosom laid,
Grief shall cease, nor care invade.
O congenial pow'r divine,
All my votive soul is thine !
Lead me ^nth thy parent care.
Holy Nature, heav'nly fair!
<
JOHANN HEINREICH VOSS,
»V AS born the 20th of February, 1751, at Somraer-
dorf, in Mecklenburg. His father was originally a
farmer, but being impoverished by the war, lie
afterwards became a schoolmaster. The education
which he gave his son Avas, as may be supposed, not
very superior; and, on quitting school, young
Voss was under the necessity of accepting a private
tutorship, until a particular friend took him (in
1772) to Gottingen, and provided for his support.
He immediately turned his attention to that brancli
of study in which he afterwards became so eminent
— the Classics. He, also, was one of those kindred
spirits, whose union for the promotion of literature
reflected such lustre, at this period, upon the Univer-
sity of wliich they were Members. In 1778, he was
chosen Rector, or Master of the school at Otterndorf;
and, in 1782, he held the same situation in the school
at Eutin. The Prince of Holstein Goltorp conferred
on Voss the dignity of an Aulic Counsellor ; and
when, in consequence of ill-health, he resigned his
rectorship, in 1802, his illustrious patron settled
on him an annual pension of six hundred dollars,
with full permission to spend it wherever he chose
to reside. His present abode is at Heidelberg.
R
122 VOSS.
The celebrated Wieland, in a critique upon the
works of Voss, passes on him this highly flattering
encomium. " To him the great merit is due of
having attained a high distinction, not only among
the best poets, but also among the most learned,
ingenious, and elegant scholars in Germany." The
most prominent excellencies in his poems are, a pure
and chastened style, great power of genius and
energy of expression, a play of humor, and an abso-
lute command over aU the riches of his language :
his verses, in ancient as well as modern metre, are
remarkable for their equable tenor and melody.
His lyrics and idyls will be read as long as the
poems of Schiller or Goethe. But Voss's highest title
to renown is his talent for translation. His version
of Homer is, perhaps, the best in any language;
Virgil, Hesiod, Ovid, Aristophanes, and Shakespear —
the two last recently translated, have lost none of
their original force and spirit, by the manner in
which he has transferred their beauties to his native
tongue. An uniform edition of his works has not
yet appeared; but his lyric poems, idyls, odes,
fables, and epigrams, were published in 1802, at Kö-
nigsberg, in Prussia. His pastoral poem, in three
idyls, entitled Luise, has, perhaps, chiefly established
his fame in original composition.
VOSS. 123
VERNAL LOVE.
The lark was up, serene the day,
The mead in vernal beauty gay.
The swelling buds the trees o'erspread,
The daisy rear'd its modest head ;
I rov'd the lake's green margin round.
Where late the snow had chill'd the ground,
And many a new-born violet found.
On Fanny's breast the flow'rs were laid :
A smile my tender care repaid.
Now here, now there, a shrub was seen.
That niark'd the grove with early green.
The streamlet, murm'ring down the glade,
Renew'd the cresset's deepen'd shade.
The mossy bank enticed repose : —
We sat, and caught each melting close
Of hapless Philomela's woes.
A simple wreath, her brows to bind,
Of varied moss, my fair entwin'd.
Then careless, hand in hand, we stray'd,
Till even'iiig cast a lengthen'd shade ;
Sweet odours fiU'd the breezy air,
As bloom'd the primrose fresh and fair ;
Deep blush'd the sky, as day-light clos'd,
The lake with streaming purple glow'd,
And the bright moon her full orb shew'd.
124 VOSS.
The fault'ring step, the heaving breast,
My Fanny's silent joy confessed.
Her crimson'd cheek and loose attire,
The soft alarms of Love inspire.
Again we sat, and all reclin'd,
Inhal'd the blossom-scented wind :
Nor ought I spoke, nor ought she said —
My trembling frame, my tears, betray 'd
The empire of the peerless maid.
But, ah! what transports seiz'd my soul,
Wlien the first dear kiss I softly stole !
SONG.
Beneath a poplar's friendly shadow,
Beside a rushy mere,
Younj; Fanny sat, all blithe and blooming,
And knit, unvext with care ;
And while she knit, she sung so sweet,
A ballad I shall ne'er forget.
When idly o'er the meadow wand'ring,
To lure the finny train,
Conceal'd beneath the alder bushes,
I heard dear Fanny's strain :
My useless angle down I laid,
And soft approach'd the blushing maid.
126 VOSS.
"Why all alone? — shall I intrude then?
" Fresh breathes the Zephyr here."
"Good swain," shfe cries, "I've just been straying,
" Along this glassy mere."
" But now the sun ascends the sky,
" And to the cooling shade I fly."
I sat me down, and soon soft tremors
My listless limbs invade,
And Fanny's foot, so neat and shapely.
By mine was closely laid ;
And stretch'd upon the flow'ry green,
Her taper ancle too was seen.
We trembled, like two aspen branches,
And neither knew for why ;
We talk'd of corn, and kine, and weather;
Then ceas'd, then 'gan to sigh:
And list'ned to the lapwing's strain.
And heard the bittern loud complain.
Now bolder grown, her work I tangled;
I stole her yarn away :
And she, with knitting-pins assailing,
Provok'd the am'rous fray ;
Till quite incens'd, in playful spite.
She vow'd, unless I ceas'd, she'd bite.
But see, I cry'd, the sun's beams darting
Across the quiv ring spray ;
127
They paint thy lip, and tinge thy dimples,
With purest, sweetest ray.
O'er ev'ry charm his glories beam,
As when he gilds the placid stream.
She smil'd ; — her bosom gently flutter'd,
And heav'd a stifled sigh ;
I stole a kiss, and swore to love her :
She blush'd in kind reply.
And when I break my plighted vow,
ITie conscious stream shall cease to flow !
THE WOOER.
With auburn locks and killing eyes,
A lass tripp'd o'er the mead ;
The day declin'd — soft hlush'd the skies,
And warblings fill'd the glade.
Her only could I hear and see. —
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be,
For ever and for aye, by me !
A russet garb, with graceful ease,
Intwin'd her slender waist :
Her coats and tresses caught the breeze.
And flutter'd as it past.
Her snow-white hose I phxin could see. —
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be,
For ever and for aye, by me !
VOSS.
The dappled cow now jogg'd along-.
And fill'd her cleanly i)ail ;
And while the maiden milk'd and #ung,
I urg'd my tender tale.
Her eye bespoke soft courtesy :
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be.
For ever and for aye, by me !
My tale I told, she deign'd to smile,
In sweet suspense I stood.
Yet dared to steal a kiss the while ; —
Her cheek with blushes glow'd.
As glow'd the west, so redden'd she :
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be.
For ever and for aye, by me !
O'er stile, o'er hedge, 1 help'd the maid.
Her brimming puil to bear,
And chas'd the goblin from the glade,
And siuig to banish fear.
For dark it grew, we scarce could see :
Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be.
For ever and for aye, by me!
Her mother rav'd. — "So late !" she cried :
The damsel hung her head.
" Good mother, hear, nor rashly chide, —
" I'd fain thy daughter wed;
" Consent our mutual bliss to see:
" Belov'd, I swear, the maid shall be,
" For ever and for aye, by me!"
129
CHRISTIAN FELIX WEISZE,
Was born the 28th of January, 1726, at Aunaberg,
in Saxony, where his father was head master of a
Latin school. In consequence of the premature
death of this excellent man, and profound scholar,
young Weisze's education was much neglected ; for
the little progress he made, he was chiefly indebted
to his mother. He afterwards passed nine years
at the Gymnasium (Academy) at Altenberg, time
uselessly employed; since, from the wretched
method of instruction there pursued, he obtained
little more than a superficial knowledge of the
Greek and Roman Classics and Ancient History ;
in fact, he learned nothing properly. With this
slender stock of information, and a still more slender
supply of money, he removed to the University of
Leipzig. Resolved, however, to live economically,
and to deny himself every thing in the shape of
luxury, he applied closely to study, and felt Re-
moved from every care. The event which had the
most beneficial influence on his future life, was the
acquaintance which he formed in this University
with Klopstock, Cramer, Geliert, Rabener, Kaestner,
and particidarly with Lessing. These young men,
afterwards so celebrated in their difl'erent depart-
WEISZE. 131
meuts of literature, were then labouring' in conjunc-
tion, to introduce principles of sound criticism and
good taste, into the little world of letters around, them.
Weisze became so closely connected by the bonds of
friendship, with the great Lessing, that they hardly
passed a single day separate; and as the mind of
his friend was deeply imbued with the knowledge
of most sciences, and of many languages, Weisze
greatly benefited by this constant and familiar
intercourse. But the pleasure which they derived
from reading to each other, and from the mutual in-
terchange of opinions, was even exceeded by the
delight which they experienced in witnessing
together theatrical representations. They would
more willingly have abstained from a meal, than
have once missed a performance at the jday-house.
To obtain the means of gratifying this taste, they tran-
slated several French comedies, such as the Hannibal
of Marivaux, and the Gamester of Regnard. Thus,
commenced Weisze's literary career. His first
exclusive attempt, was an imitation of Petronius's
Matron of Ephesus ; this production, although it was
revised and improved by Lessing, has always been
considered a l)oyish performance. He now, likewise,
began to compose anacreontic and lyric poems, in
friendly emulation with Lessing, whom, however,
he regarded as an inimitable master. In 1749,
Lessing quitted Leipzig, and although Weisze kept
up an occasional correspondence with him, their
friendship gradually declined, until it became con-
verted into irreconcilable enmity on the part of
132 WEISZE.
Lessing, who listened to the tales of calumny which
were circulated hy the enemies of the latter. Weisze,
in the mean time, notwithstanding his predilection
for the drama, did not neglect the study of the
Greek and Roman authors. In 1750, when he had
finished his academical career, he saw himself
destitute of the means of support ; he consequently
accepted the situation of private tutor to the young
Count Gegersherg. This change of situation rather
promoted than disturbed the progress of his studies ;
he wrote several plays, amongst others, Juliane,
the Converted Husband, the Poets ä la-mode,
and Richard the Third, many of these possess
durable merit. His literary activity was, however,
interrupted by a journey to Paris, whither he was
under the necessity of accompanying his pupil.
Soon after his return from that metropolis, Avhere,
by associating with the first living French artists
and men of letters, he greatly augmented his know-
ledge of science and the fine arts, he fixed his
abode at Leipzig, and continued to reside there with
the reputation of one of the most useful, if not of
the most shining writers that Germany has produced.
The best of his dramatic works are Richard IIL
and Romeo and Juliet, both original. Of his lyric
poems, the songs of the Amazons, and the war songs
of Tyrtseus, possess the most merit; and the most
considerable of his works on education is. Der
Kinder-fremid , fiom which Berquin has borrowed
the greatest part of his Ami des Enfans. Weisze
enjoyed, for more than half a century, the love and
WEISZE. 133
esteem of his fellow-countrymen, a tribute due both
to his excellent private character, and to the im-
portant services which he rendered to the rising
g'eneration, by works written for their instruction. He
knew most of the living writers, and lived on terms
of friendship and familiarity with the best among
them. Wielaud, Ramler, Garve, and Utz, were each
anxious to testify their regard for Weisze, by dedi-
cating to him a favourite work. He terminated a
life of extraordinary activity on the 16th of Decem-
ber, 1804, and died regretted, not merely by his
friends and relations, but by all Germany. The
funeral which his countrymen instituted in his honor,
was more splendid than that of any other German
poet, excepting Klopstock.
134 WEISZE.
SONG.
Sweetly blooms the op'uing rose.
Spring's gay prime adorning,
When uiipluckt and free it grows,
Bath'd with dew and morning.
But the blush on Laura's cheek.
Sweeter wonder raises ;
Haunts of Love, her dimples sleek —
Happy lie who gazes !
Softly Zephyr bends the spray.
Fragrance softly showers.
Wafting all the sweets of May,
Stol'n from new-born flowers.
But her accents softer fall ;
(Nameless grace endears them:)
Rudest hearts their sounds inthral —
Happy he who hears them !
\VRIS7.R-
13:)
SONG.
Am, bereft of love and wine,
Joyless hours betide us ;
Wealth and pow'r in vain combine,
Were they once denied us.
What can pow'r and wealth supply?
What Golconda's treasures ?
Vain are all, if fate deny
I^ove and drinking: pleasures.
When the toils of war are o'er.
Love's the hero's duty;
Choicest gifts of Fortune's store.
Wine and smiling beauty.
Sober mortals, cease to rail,
All your rules are musty :
]VTo ; — the ills of life prevail
Only when we're thirsty !
ANONYMOUS.
MORNING HYMN.
How smiles the op'ning dawn,
Wide o'er the spreading lawn,
As Night's dun shadows speed their flight !
Hail, Natvire's charms divine !
Before her hallow'd shrine.
How glows my heart with fond delight !
Hail, Nature's sov'reign Lord !
At whose creative word,
The awe-inspiring scene arose !
Thy goodness grants me more
Than dare my pray'rs implore ; —
Than dare my ardent, fondest vows !
At Älidnight's silent hour.
While Sleep's reviving pow'r
Gives health, and life, and vigorous joy.
Thy wakeful care presides,
Nor harm my soul hetides ; —
Nor fears my balmy rest annoy.
ANONYMOUS. 137
The new-born day how fair !
How sweet the freshen'd air !
How ring's the grove with votive lays !
The tuneful song I'll join.
And chant thy name divine,
And swell the grateful note of praise.
SONG.
Within these sacred bowers
Tlie wretch shall find repose ;
No gloomy vengeance lowers,
Soft Pity heals his woes, —
While Friendship's hand his steps shall stay.
And Hope shall point to brighter day.
Here, far from noise and folly.
Fraternal love presides ;
And sweetest melancholy,
A hallow'd guest abides.
If scenes like these thy heart can share,
Then rest a welcome pilgrim here.
138 ANONYMOUS.
SONG.
Love, from those bright eyes imparting,
Soft desire and am'rous care ;
Through my breast his arrows darting,
Lives and reigns a tyrant there.
On thy cheek with blushes glowing,
When I print the eager kiss ;
Heart and soul with joy o'erflowing,
Scarce can bear the thrilling bliss.
Dearest Maiden! whilst I hold thee,
'Gainst my panting, flutt'ring heart ;-
Wliilst my trembling arms infold thee,
Madd'ning bliss thy charms impart :
But too soon my ravish'd senses
Sink beneath oppressive joy :
Life and death thy smile dispenses; —
Bliss and pain alike destroy.
SONG.
Cupid, wanton source of pain.
Could I bind thy pinion ;
Ever then should'st thou remain
Slave to my dominion.
But in Spring the Nightingale,
Only glads the bower ; —
And the leaves that strew the vale.
Speak chill Autumn's power.
ANONYMOUS.
130
Tims, alas ! but once in life,
Blossom Love's sweet roses; —
Once, while vernal joys are rife,
Ere youth's season closes.
Vainly then shall youth defy
Beauty's soft dominion ; —
>'ain the art that fain would tie
Cupid's silken pinion.
FRIENDSHIP.
Sure not to Life's short span confin'd,
Shall sacred Friendship glow ;
Beyond the grave, the ardent mind
Its best delights shall know.
Blest scenes! where ills no more annoy,
Where heav'n the flame approves ;
Where beats the heart to nought but joy.
And ever lives and loves !
There Friendship's matchless worth shall shine
To hearts like ours so dear !
There angels own its pow'r divine ;
Its native home is there.
140 ANONYfllüUS.
Tho' here below, sweet Friendship's charm
Its soft delights display ;
Yet souls like ours, so touch'd, so warm,
Still puut for brighter day !
TO FORTUNE.
O Fortune, fickle goddess,
A moment, quit the care
Of thrones and jarring empires,
And 'neath my roof repair.
A kind regard, O deign me !
One smile — no more I claim:
Nor pants my soul for treasures ; —
Content, its fondest aim I
Be small my simple dwelling,
Nor round with baubles strewn ;
Just room for frolic measures,
A gay repast to crown ; —
Repast of unbought dainties,
]VIy garden's modest grace ;
The woodland's plumy tenants,
The riv'let's finny race.
ANONYMOUS.
141
Let Flora deck my borders,
With many a lovely flow'r ;
The grajjc, in mellow clusters,
Intwine my rustic bow'r ;
And let the purple nectar,
Tiie gen'rous vine bestows,
Be quaffd to Love and Friendship,
Beneath the pendant boughs: —
To Love, the choicest blessing,
That favoured mortals taste ! — ■
To Friendship, gift of heaven.
That sweetens Life's repast !
This, grant me, gentle goddess.
No fartlier boon I crave : —
Thy golden favours, lavish
On vain Ambition's slave !
S O N G.
To sing of Love's passion, I'm cair<l by my fair—
Ah! who would not sing wlien commanded by her?
Yet Love's softest languish,
Creates but new anguish,
So fain, gentle maid, the fond theme I'd forbear.
142 ANONYMOUS.
Young Cupid triumphant, in mischief well skiU'd,
Subdues mighty princes, and keeps the fair field.
Ambition declining.
To beauty resigning,
Each chief for the myrtle, the laurel shall yield.
The coward grows daring, and pants for the fray ;
The miser free-hearted, the splenetic gay :
Grave wisdom admiring.
Grows mad with desiring;
The bachelor sighs for the fair till he's grey.
Yet when the fond heart is bewilder'd in joy.
And Love's softest raptures the moments employ ;
Dear pleasures so cheating!
Soft transports so fleeting !
A smile can give life, and a frown can destroy !
Shoftld Jealousy's torments imbitter the woe.
That arises from absence, what anguish shall flow !
What moaning and sighing !
Despairing and dying !
Ah ! who shall describe what the lover shall know ?
To urge tlie soft subject, then cease, gentle fair ;
I'm ill at such numbers, nor further shall dare:
For Love's softest languish.
Creates but ncAv anguish.
And hence, dearest maid, the fond theme I forbear.
.ANONYlMOnS.
SONG.
i4:i
A CAPTIVE long in Laura's train,
I strive to break my irksome chain ;
And oft, to sooth my am'rous care,
I scan the charms of ev'ry fair.
A form as graceful oft I find ;
Yet nought to vie with Laura's mind :
And smiles that equal life dispense,
But nought to match with Laura's sense
And looks as sweet, as void of art*, —
Yet nought to emulate her heart :
A check as fresh, as bright an eye; —
But nought with Laura's worth to vie.
Thus Laura, cause of all my pain,
Still charms and preserves her reign ;
And I at once am doom'd to prove.
The slave of Reason and of Love.
RURAL LIFE.
To rural joys and purer air,
Ye city nymphs and swains, repair:
The whisp'ring grove, the garden's bound.
Each peaceful dwelling skirts around ;
144 ANONYMOUS.
No lordly pile obstructs the way,
Nur veils the cheerful face of day ;
And freely o'er the flow'ry meads,
The moon her silver lustre sheds.
At early morn, the villag'er
Resumes his daily, pleasing care :
For him the vernal landscape blooms ;
For him the hawthorn sheds perfumes ;
His borders glow with many a flow'r ;
The nightingale awakes his bow'r ;
The bee prepares her nectar'd hoard,
And fair Pomona decks his board.
Then hither hie, ye courtly train,
And share the i)leasures of the plain ;
Forsake the city's irksome glare.
And leave behind each sordid care.
Let Love alone your breast invade,
Fit inmate of the rural shade :
Haste here, your tender vows declare.
And soon shall yield the soften'd fair.
SONG.
What feels the soften'd bosom,
The gentler virtues sway.
Best suits the Muse's favour.
And breathes the sweetest lay.
ANONYMOUS.
While Sympatliy awakens
Attention's ready ear,
And spreads the soft infection,
And prompts the pleasing tear.
Let poets sing of heroes
And all the pomp of war,
And such as pant for glory,
Attend with eager ear; —
Be mine an humhler triumph,
My theme the rural plain.
My boast, the simple numbers
That charm the village-swain.
And would my blooming Daphne
But lend her ear the while.
And one kind look would deign me,
And one approving smile ; —
I'd envy not the poet.
Though wreaths adorn his brow,
And envy not the hero.
For whom the numbers flow.
SONG.
Whene'er a comely lass I spy.
All lost in soft surprise,
1 thank my stars, begin to sigh,
Then own her conqu'ring eyes.
u
145
146 ANONYMOUS.
And while I gaze my wits away,
And fondly bless my fate,
]\Iy captive heart bespeaks her sway,
And flutters pit-a-pat I
At first, perchance, the bashful fair,
To Love is disinclin'd :
So let her be — I little care.
Ere long she grows more kind.
For soon we smiling looks impart.
Soon toy, and flirt, and chat;
Then Love invades her yielding heart,
And mine beats pit-a-pat !
And now, as oft the maid I greet.
Her hand I softly press ;
And oft the gentle squeeze repeat.
Oft taste a rifled kiss.
While silent joys each bosom charm.
And check our am'rous chat,
Each heart beats high to Love's alarm,
And flutters pit-a-pat !
To him who ne'er such rapture proves.
How cheerless wears the day ! —
How poor the wretch that never loves,
Nor yields to Beauty's sway!
O may the heart of softer frame.
With pleasure beat like that,
Which all alive to Love's dear name,
Still flutters pit-a-pat !
ANONYMOU55. 147
SONG.
At Lucy's door was Colin seen ;
He knock'd, and ask'd, " is none within?
" 'Tis Colin calls; haste, gentle maid,"
She came, and, " No," she said.
He sigh'd and sued in piteous plight,
" No, no," she cries, " I die with fright,
" Tis late, 'tis dark, Tm all alone:
" It must not be; — he gone."
O'erwhelm'd with grief, he moves away.
Now lists, now hears her turn the key,
And softly cry, " A moment, come ;
" One word, then speed thee home."
With prying wish the neighbours burn.
And watch and wait the youth's return ;
And true he came ; — but not till day,
They laugh 'd — he slunk away !
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY.
Beside a fountain's border,
Where wanton Zephyrs rove,
A Nymph, in sweet disorder.
Now sleeps in yonder grove.
If thus her beauties charm me,
All sleeping as she lies,
\Vhat ills, alas! shall harm me,
When once she opes her eyes !
On her white arm reposing,
Reclines her lovely cheek,
Far sweeter tints disclosing,
Tlian May's sweet mornings deck.
Wliat tender fears alarm me !
Wliat tender hopes arise ! —
iUas! what ills shall harm me.
When once she opes her eyes !
I
ANONYMOUS. 149
And fain Avould I discover,
What pains my breast invade ;
Rut, all ! too timid Lover !
My lips refuse their aid.
May Love with boldness arm me.
And check desponding sighs ;
Or, oh I what ills shall harm me.
When once she opes her eyes !
DRINKING SONG.
To Bacchus, dear Bacchus, an altar I'll raise.
And, full of his presence, grow wild in his praise.
Approach, thirsty topers, no ills shall annoy.
But wine flow in plenty, and plenty of joy.
We'll drain the bowl empty, and drink away care,
If endless such pleasures, how happy it were !
And Venus, bright Goddess, the incense shall share,
And bumpers be quaff 'd to the health of each fair :
In Love's happy triumph each beauty shall shine,
And heighten the joys of the jviice of the vine.
We'll drink, and we'll love, and we'll laugh away care,
If endless such pleasures, how happy it were!
150 AXONYiMOUS.
LOVE.
What shall the heart's best wish supply,
Its fondest ardors move ? —
Not Wealth the potent charm shall buy.
Nor ought that wakes Ambition's sigh ; —
'Tis Love, 'tis only Love !
Then, listless Maid, thine ear incline,
Nor scorn my constant sigh : —
Proud fame and splendor I resign,
Nor kneel at vain Ambition's shrine ; —
Thy smile shall all supply I
BEAUTY AND MUSIC.
When my fond eyes on Nancy gaze.
Some charm, before unseen, I spy
Wiene'er I list, in soft amaze,
The more I love, the more I die.
And whilst I look with fond surprise,
And pleasing torture on my fair,
I wish for Argus' hundred eyes,
And wish to gaze for ever there.
ANONYMOUS.
151
But when iny Nancy's voice I hear,
And when she strikes the trembling strings ;
I wish each eye were made an ear.
To list with angels while she sings.
INVITATION TO MAY.
Return, delightful May,
And robe the trees with green ;
Hid Music wake the spray,
And glad the vernal scene.
The cowslip's bell restore,
The rose's blush revive ;
Thy wonted treasures pour,
And bid creation live.
In vain, while Winter's gloom
Invades the drooping plain ;
In quest of Joy we roam,
'Mid Fashion's motley train.
Joy shuns the noisy town,
The midnight masquerade ;
From courts and cities flown.
She haunts the rural shade.
And well the rural shade.
Befits a guest so fair :
Then haste, bedeck the mead.
Haste, all thy stores prepare.
152 ANONYMOUS.
Sweet month, hr'mg garlands gay,
And bring the nightingale :
O haste, delightful May,
And Winter's gloom dispel !
TO THE QUEEN OF PRUSSIA
ON HER BIRTHDAY.
Whjle titled suppliants throng the glitt'ring scene,
To hail the day that gave the world a Queen ;
Shall regal beauty deign to lend an ear,
Nor scorn a bard uncourtly and sincere?
Wlio sees, undazzled, scepter'd pomp disj)lay'd,
Yet bows to worth, that shames all borrow'd aid;
To worth that shines untarnish'd on a throne,
In fair Louisa's bright example shown !
O, form'd alike to grace the courtly scene,
Or smile the sweetest on the village-greeu ;
To charm alike the heart, the eye, the ear,
And claim the palm, though all around were fair;
Amid the varied incense of the day.
Accept the tribute of an honest lay ;
Nor deem the praise it bears, tho' warm it flows.
An eulogy that flattery's breath bestows : —
For know, while such desert shall grace the theme,
That praise for truth is but another name.
B.
J. JoLnjon, Pfiulcr, Apollo Pros, Brook Slrtet, Holbon
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