.^ \<^'' UC-NRLF $B biD ne I GIFT OF H-er. 3o -• TO CARDENIO TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF PLATEN BY REGINALD B. COOKE, Ph. D. ITHACA, NEW YORK 1919. Entered in the Library of Congress, ana Copyright. 1919. by R. B. COOKE v^^ ^OTGTJDord In submitting to a small circle of readers these further translations from Platen, there is no occas- ion to repeat what has been said by way of preface to my translations of the Sonette aus Venedig,^ The eight sonnets which constitute the series An Cardenio were composed between November, 1 822 and May, 1 823. So far as can be ascertain- ed none of them has been hitherto translated into English. These sonnets, like those addressed some years later to Karl Theodor German, are not perhaps wholly in accord with modern taste, but it must be remembered that Platen was a thorough classicist, hardly less in the content and inspiration of his work than in his craftsmanship. ^Madison. Wis., 1914. 79i^ The rhyme-scheme of these translations is agadn identical with that of the originals, and every at- tempt has been made toward a literal rendering. The rhyming of the sestets in the first and second of these sonnets is quite unusucJ with Platen, and although it is the method predominant with all the IteJian Masters excepting Ariosto, it appears inferior to the double alternating rhyme which Petrarch employed with hardly less frequen- cy, and which is regularly found in Platen and Rii- ckert. Cornell University. R. B. C. I. TJITHER compelled, perplexed at heart lest you I should not find, I traced my steps, a prey, All for my love of thee, to dark dismay. Lest hope should vanish like a dream untrue. A thousand times estranged, alas! we two Had parted each upon his lonely way, And bitter was our last farewell that day. Nor clasped we hands, as friends are wont to do. Where thou wert tarrying how might I know? What friends meanwhile enjoyed thy company And fond affections how could I surmise? And if at last I had not found thee? Oh, I will forget this futile If, for he Whom long I sought stands now before mine eyes. II. IV/f Y friend, as yet you seem but young, for Ah! Little you know what burdens we endure, Or how, when many a time we feel most sure The goal is nigh, th' event doth sadly mar Our hopes. Youth follows still its lucky star Whithersoever fortune may allure; Old age yet lingers pondering by the shore, Or treads the bridge to barren lands afar. You are too young as yet to comprehend How oft in vain the spirit seeks repose. Turning now north now south in ceaseless quest. And Oh, I pray that never mayst thou lend Thy youthful days to succor one who knows Life's weariness, but not the joys of rest. III. \X7HEN first I saw thee, though perchance by pride A captive held, to me you seemed most fair. The glasses rang and voices filled the air, And soon thou wast departed. Far and wide I meanwhile roamed, yet, not to be denied, A longing filled my heart, and waxes there Till, like an avalanche of snow, it dare To bury us beneath its swelling tide. And when anew I found thee, more and more I truly learned lo love thee, and again Parted, again we met. So fortune bore Us hence and hither in the fated train Of everchanging hours. Alone I saw Thy beauty and thy pride unchanged remain. IV. VI7ELL I recall that bitter winter's night, More exquisite than any night in spring, When I, my friend, could watch thee carrying A torch, so to direct me by its light Upon our solitary path. How bright And beautiful the myriad sparks would fling Abroad their radiant showers, as, in a ring. You whirled the fiery fagots left and right. The distant orbs were envious to see Thy torch's beams, yet lovingly the Wain Seemed with its seven stars to beckon thee. Tis in such hours as these our thoughts remain Too willingly unspoken. Who would be So bold as to surmise their silent train? V. CCARCE dare I touch thy locks, and so to me It seems the haughty cap, so closely drawn Upon thy curly hair as but to adorn Thy beauty, ev'n more enviable must be Than were the gold of true maturity. I envy, too, this pipe, happily worn By kisses; yet swift as the smoke is borne From sight, so fickle is thy constancy. Forswear, I pray, thy pride; be not so rough As to begrudge me still the curling rings Which you permit even to that dead stuff. And deem me worthy, so the future brings To me the fortunes of thy pipe. Enough; I am thy slave if you but grant these things. VI. A LONE with thee, what utter happiness Were mine to share thy silent thoughts, which vow 'Twixt us an end to doubt — while gay throngs now Pass to and fro — and stealthily to press Thine hand. And then my gaze in rapt duress Must tarry where a thousand charms endow Thy features; on thy moving lips, and brow, And eyes, and all thy youthful comeliness. 1 am not borne away at the behest Of some mean thirst for love. Rather to me Thy favor grants repose; and for the rest 1 am disturbed by no anxiety Nor fear to lose my well-won prize. Thus blest Am I by fortune — everlastingly. I VII. drank th' o*erflowing cup of death; yet not That which the world calls death, for happy they Already in the coffin laid away And lowered with ropes to some abysmal spot. Oh, were I but departed and forgot. And, shrouded all in white as cold I lay, Borne forth in ceremonious array. With friends to dedicate the broken plot. Alas! I have no confidants, no friends. I steal in silence past the merry fun Of revelers, and no one comprehends My loneliness; yet even now the sun Too long has warmed me, for my gaze but lends Strength to my grief until my course be run. VIII. TXT^HAT do you care for all my tears distressed By day and night outpoured! The blood might si From out mine eyes, yet wouldst thou ne'er impart To me thy pity. Had I unsuppressed Cherished some guilty passion in my breast Whenever we had chanced to meet or part, Then it were just that thou shouldst bar thine heart, And that thine enmity should be confessed. But I had sworn to be for ever true, Until with piercing looks of proud disdain You drove me hence. Alas! what shall I do? Thy bitter hatred renders all in vain; For always still thy cruel words pursue My every thought, and drive my mind insane. / U. S. JOHNSON PRINTING CO. Ithaca. New York. THIS BOOK IS^^^B°^EI.OW -^ OF 25 CENTS WIUU BE ASSESS^ ^UE. TH& ^^^H DAY AND TO :»> __.===================== OVERDUE. =====- ^ UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA UBRARY W'^f^t:-- ■ ' ' ^ . <■% T-, ' \