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 l-ROM THB LIBRARY Ol 
 
 BENJAMIN PARKE AVERY. 
 
 Gift of Mrs. avery, 
 
 Autfiist. r8o6. 
 
 Accessions No.ipO o/O Clan's 
 
 No. 
 
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 in 2008 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/fantasienfanciesOOretzrich 
 

RETZSCH'S FANCIES 
 
^%^XU<^^€% 
 
 FANCIES 
 
 A SERIES OF SUBJECTS IN OUTLINE, 
 
 NOW FIRST PUBLISHED FROM 
 
 THE ORIGINAL PLATES, 
 
 DESIGNED AND ETCHED 
 
 BY MORITZ RETZSCH. 
 
 PREFATORY REMARKS AND DESCRIPTIONS, 
 BY MRS. JAMESON. 
 
 :uil7EESiiy] 
 
 LONDON 
 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 
 
 A. RICHTER AND CO., SOHO SQUARE ; 
 
 TREUTTEL AND WURTZ, PARIS AND STRASBURGH ; 
 
 AND E. FLEISCHER, LEIPZIG. 
 
 1834. 
 

 (p 3 ^7'^"^ 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 IBOTSON AND PALMER, PBINTBES, SAVOY STREET, STRAND. 
 
^5^*^ Of IBM^^ 
 
 lirirrvBRsiTrl 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 It would ill become the writer of these prefatory re- 
 marks to assume to be the panegyrist of the work which 
 she has the honour — for such she truly esteems it — of in- 
 troducing to the English T)ublic. It is, however, so sin- 
 gular in itself, both in its purpose and execution, that a few 
 observations in the way of explanation may not be deemed 
 obtrusive or impertinent. 
 
 Moritz Retzsch, of Dresden, is already famed in this 
 country, not less than in his own, for the spirit, the rich 
 and congenial spirit, in which he has embodied in visible 
 forms the conceptions of Goethe, Schiller, and Shakspeare. 
 He now appears before us in a new character, himself both 
 poet and designer. In these Fancies he has employed his 
 rare graphic talent, simply as the most easy and familiar 
 medium through which to convey to the minds of others 
 the sentiments and ideas with which his own powerful and 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 luxuriant imagination seems for ever overflowing. The pencil 
 is to him what the pen is to other poets ; his effusions throw 
 themselves into forms before they can be clothed in words ; 
 and instead of writing a sonnet to his wife on her birth- 
 day, our artist-poet finds it easier to sketch a birth-day ode, 
 in which her worth and beauty, and his own tenderness, his 
 happiness, his hopes, and his wishes, assume an endless va- 
 riety of the most elegant and the most fanciful images. 
 To such occasions, the greater part of these sketches owe 
 their existence : they were all, in the first instance, dedi- 
 cated to his wife, and adorned the pages of her album ; and 
 never was the inventive power of genius, inspired by love, 
 more gracefully displayed than in some of these little birth- 
 day poems, for such they appeared to me. 
 
 Allegory in painting, that is, the application of the art 
 of design to the representation of abstract ideas, is nearly as 
 old as the art itself, and the power of symbolical painting on 
 the minds and imaginations of the young, as awakening 
 curiosity and exercising both the reasoning and imagina- 
 tive powers, can be estimated only by those who may have 
 watched the opening laculties of children : more the pity, 
 that art — ^beautiful art ! — so often perverted, so often degraded 
 into a mere stimulant, a mere accomplishment, should not 
 be better appreciated as a moral instrument in education. 
 This, however, is no place for such discussions. If that hack- 
 nied expression of Pope were true, in the sense in which it 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 ought to be true, that " Men are but children of a larger 
 growth," — retaining the simple tastes, and pure, unsophisti- 
 cated feelings of childhood — there would be little doubt of 
 the success of these Fancies ; but, alas ! we know that the 
 " child is not father of the man," that the man too often is not 
 the improved, but the perverted child. To address the moral 
 faculties through the medium of imagination, for any perma- 
 nent or beneficial purpose, is the last thing thought of by our 
 legislators and educators. Fable, except as a mere nomen- 
 clature of heathen gods and goddesses, is banished from the 
 nursery, and allegory in poetry and the fine arts is out of 
 fashion ; it is deemed the child's play of the intellect, fit 
 only for the days of Dante, or Spenser, or Michel Angelo — 
 we grown up people are wiser. By allegory in the fine 
 arts I do not mean the application of certain vulgar conven- 
 tional symbols, which good taste and good sense have de- 
 servedly exploded. With reason are we sick of all those 
 " hieroglyphical cattle," as Horace Walpole terms them,— 
 Hope leaning sentimentally on her anchor — Death shaking 
 his hour-glass — Valour brandishing his sword —Victory 
 flourishing her palm, and Fame puffing at her trumpet, — 
 all these, which, in Grecian art, were lovely personifications 
 of the ideal, have become, in the hands of our modern 
 artists, wretched, insipid, common-places, from which we 
 turn in disgust. 
 
 But if the representation or illustration of abstract 
 
vm PREFACE. 
 
 poetry and truth be not beyond the province of graphic 
 art, (and who shall say it is so, because the luxuriant fancy 
 of a Rubens once abused it to excess, and a Verrio and a 
 Kneller depraved it into florid insignificance?) then allegory 
 is surely the only form into which such representation could 
 be properly thrown ; but to invent a new allegory is truly 
 no easy matter : it is to write a new poem — ^it is to create 
 ideas, as well as to imitate forms. 
 
 Those who think to find in these Fancies any thing 
 like the threadbare symbols before alluded to, or any of the 
 common-place prettinesses of our annuals, will be disap- 
 pointed — I hope agreeably disappointed. I believe this is 
 the first attempt, in modern art, to convey a moral precept, 
 a religious truth, or an abstract poetical idea, by graphical 
 representation. Of course Hogarth is not forgotten ; but 
 there can exist no more comparison between his creations 
 and those of Retzsch, than between one of Sir Philip Syd- 
 ney's sonnets, and one of Congreve's plays. These Fancies 
 are little bits of lyric poetry, such as we find among the 
 Italians and our own early poets who imitated them, in which 
 a simple sentiment or idea is developed and bodied forth in 
 the smallest compass, and in the most intelligible and ele- 
 gant form. It is the great defect of this species of 
 graphic allegory, that it requires interpretation ; but it is 
 also its great charm to awaken curiosity, and to exercise 
 thought. It has been deemed right to give the artist's own 
 
PREFACE. ix 
 
 explanation attached to each drawing, because in each he 
 has a distinct purpose — the intention to impress some poe- 
 tical or moral truth ; but many of these Fancies may 
 bear more than one construction, and all will be found on^ 
 examination to contain that " something more than meets 
 the eye" both of beauty and meaning. 
 
 Those who are well read in our old poets will remark 
 how much of their spirit has fallen upon Retzsch,, and how 
 beautifully some of these Fancies might be illustrated by 
 corresponding passages from Spenser, and from Milton 
 The allegory of Hope vvas never more elegantly or more 
 intelligibly placed before the imagination, than in the first 
 drawing, on which the young will gaze with a smile, and the 
 old with a sigh. The Enigma of Human Life has some- 
 thing quite Miltonic, in the mingled grandeur and tenderness 
 of the image it presents to the mind ; and there are many 
 others in Retzsch 's portfolio, not inferior in graceful and sig- 
 nificant expression to those here given — one or two which 
 might be deemed superior ; but the province of the editor 
 was not the selection, but the elucidation of those which 
 are now presented to the Public. On the whole, this 
 attempt to address the moral sentiments and the imagination, 
 through the medium of design, may be considered new in 
 this country, and I am inclined to think that the pure and 
 graceful feeling, the novelty and ingenuity displayed in these 
 Fancies, will strike at once, and make a way into the heart 
 
 E 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 for the beautiful moral lesson or poetical sentiment which 
 will be found beneath the surface — a lovely mystery, couched 
 in a lovely form, which, if it require a little reflection to 
 penetrate, methinks it should be but a charm the more. 
 
 The following slight sketch of Moritz Retzsch is abridged 
 from the account of him and his works, already given by 
 the writer in another place. 
 
 He was born at Dresden, in 1779, and has never been 
 far from his native place. From childhood he was a sin- 
 gular being, giving early indications of his imitative power 
 by drawing, or carving in wood, resemblances of such ob- 
 jects as caught his attention, without the slightest idea in 
 himself or others of becoming eventually an artist ; it is 
 even said that when he was quite a youth, his enthusiastic 
 mind, labouring with a power which he rather felt than 
 knew, his love of the wilder aspects of nature, and impa- 
 tience of the restraints of artificial life, had nearly induced 
 him to become a huntsman or forester ( Jager) in the royal 
 service. However, at the age of twenty, his love of art 
 became a decided vocation. His small inherited property 
 having been dissipated during the war, he has since depended 
 on his talents alone, and in 1 824 was nominated professor of 
 painting in the Royal Academy at Dresden. His usual 
 residence is at his own pretty little farm, or Weinberg, 
 a few miles from the city. 
 
 Retzsch is exceedingly striking in his appearance, with 
 
PREFACE. XI 
 
 a grand, picturesque head, and a fine, open, expressive, 
 countenance. In his manners and mode of life, he is do- 
 mestic, simple, and independent ; he is married to a most 
 amiable, sweet looking wife, and is much respected by his 
 countrymen. Love of his home, love for his art, and the 
 most passionate ambition for all the distinction his art can 
 give, appear to divide an existence, which, exempt from 
 all vicissitudes without, may be presumed happy, in spite 
 of a most excitable and sensitive temperament, and that 
 inequality of spirits, which is said to be so frequently com- 
 bined with the gift of rare and surpassing genius. 
 
 A. J. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Plate 
 
 DECEIVED HOPE - - - - - I. 
 
 THE ENIGMA OF HUMAN. LIFE - - - II. 
 
 THE FATE OF THE POET - - - - III. 
 
 LOVE AND THE MAIDEN - - - IV. 
 
 THE TORMENTED SPIRIT - , - . v, 
 
 LOVE REPOSING - . - . - VI. 
 

'^^ Of !KED6 *« 
 
 DECEIVED HOPE. 
 
 A GROUP of playful children are peeping under a hat for a 
 butterfly, which they fancy they have caught and hold se- 
 cure. It is easy to see that the pursuit has been over many 
 a summer field — through many a flowery brake : and now 
 they bend forward in various attitudes of eagerness and 
 expectation, to seize the promised joy. Meantime their 
 little captive has escaped unperceived, and is fluttering away 
 beyond their reach. 
 
 The innocent, arch delight in one little face, the eager 
 earnestness of the other, and the fond infantine confidence 
 and simplicity in the third, who is just peeping under the 
 edge of the hat, are very lovely ; the parable of Hope has 
 seldom been more charmingly or more forcibly expressed. 
 
L'ESPOIR TROMPE. 
 
 Des enfans enjoues, formant un groupe, soulevent douce- 
 ment un chapeau sous lequel ils croient trouver un papillon 
 qu'ils s'imaginent avoir pris. II est aise de voir qu'ils Font 
 poursuivi pendant I'ete, a travers bieu des champs, a tra- 
 vers bien des buissons fieuris. Maintenant, penches en 
 avant pour saisir leur captif, ils prennent diverses attitudes 
 qui annoncent leur empressement, leur espoir et leur joie. 
 Cependant leur petit prisonnier s'est echappe a leur ins^u, 
 et il voltige hors de leur portee. 
 
 Le plaisir innocent et malin qui brille dans les yeux d'un 
 de ces jeunes enfans, Fempresseraent ardent du second, la 
 confiance enfantine et la simplicite du troisieme, qui regarde 
 sous le bord du chapeau, offrent le caractere le plus aimable. 
 Rarement rembl^me de Tesperance a ete presente avec plus 
 de force et de grace. 
 
 2 
 
FLUCHTIGE ANDEUTUNGEN 
 
 zum Verstdndniss meiner von mir selbst radirten Fantasien . 
 
 GETAUSCHTE HOFFNUNG. 
 
 Alleinige Freude gewahrt meist nur die Erwartung eines 
 Vergniigens ; denn entweder es ist zu flidchtig verschwunden, 
 oder tritt wohl gar nicht ein, so sicher Sterbliche dessen auch 
 zu seyn wahnen ; — diese schmerzliche Erfahrung macht auch 
 schon das Kind. Versichert den schonen bunten Schriietter- 
 ling unter dem Hute gefangen zu haben, schirken sich diese 
 Kleinen vol! Freude an, des Gefangenen habhaft zu werden, 
 ohne zu bemerken, dass derselbe bereits entschliipft ist, und 
 ohne zu ahnen, dass somit die erwartete Freude im nachsten 
 Augenblick sich in Betriibniss umwandeln wird. 
 

THE ENIGMA OF HUMAN LIFE. 
 
 The Spirit or Genius of Humanity, doomed for a season 
 to walk this earth in ignorance and sorrow, sits meditating 
 on the riddle of human existence, which is here represented 
 by the gigantic Sphinx, half buried in the sands, its 
 countenance averted, and partly veiled in clouds ; around 
 him is a desart — stony, barren, and overrun with nettles and 
 thistles ; and in his hand he holds a rose, of which the wi- 
 thered and fast falling leaves express the transient nature 
 of all that is sweetest and loveliest on earth. The spectacle 
 of sin and death, (figured by the reptile at his feet, and the 
 lifeless bird which has perished by its fang,) fill the mourn- 
 ing Spirit with grief and dread ; but he looks up, and be- 
 hold ! two butterflies, which have escaped from the chrysa- 
 lids which lie on the thistle-leaf, and are soaring and sport- 
 ing in the clear ether above his head : on them his eyes are 
 fixed with a contemplative and trembling hope, and his 
 heart glows with the conception of a higher and purer state 
 of existence. 
 
L'ENIGME DE LA VIE HUMAINE. 
 
 L'esprit ou le Genie de I'Humanite, condamne, pour un 
 temps, a rester sur cette terre dans I'ignorance et le chagrin, 
 est assis, meditant sur Tenigme de la vie humaine, representee 
 ici par le Sphinx gigantesque, a demi enterre dans les sables, 
 la tete detournee, et cachee en partie dans les nuages. Autour 
 de lui est un desert sterile, couvert de pierres, d'orties et de 
 chardons. II tient en main une rose, dont les feuilles fletries 
 tombant rapidement indiquent le caractere passager de 
 tout ce qu'il y a de plus doux et de plus aimable sur la terre. 
 Le spectacle du peche et de la mort, representes par le 
 reptile qui est a ses pieds, et par Toiseau que le venin du 
 serpent a prive de la vie, remplissent I'Esprit de douleur et 
 de crainte. Mais il leve ses regards, et voila que deux 
 papillons qui viennent de sortir de leurs chrysalides encore 
 attachees a une feuille de chardon, voltigent en folatrant 
 dans I'ether azure qui couvre sa tete. Ses yeux pensifs se 
 fixent sur eux avec espoir et tremblement, et son coeur 
 s'ouvre avec ardeur a I'idee d'un etat d'existence plus pur 
 et plus eleve. 
 
DER MENSCHENGEIST AUF DER 
 SPHINX. 
 
 Der Menschengeist in kindlicher Unwissenheit auf die Erde 
 gebannt, sitzt, auf eine Sphinx sich lehnend,uber das Rathsel 
 des Lebensnachsinnend, dessen Phisionomie (das Gesicht der 
 Sphinx) sich eben so wenig wie das von NebelnumhiillteOber- 
 haupt desselben erkennen lasst ; er ist betroffen vom Anblick 
 des Todes und des Verbrechens (der von der Schlange zu 
 seinen Fiissen geraordete unschuldige Sanger), und Schmerz- 
 haft ergrifFen und erschiittert vom BegrifF der Verg'anglich- 
 keit ; — das Symbol des Reizenden und Schonen, die lieblich 
 duftende Rose, welkt und verbliihtin seiner Hand, ihreausfal- 
 lenden Blatter vom Winde entfiihrt. Nesseln und Disteln 
 wuchern auf kargem, steinig sumpfigem Boden umher, und 
 Nebel ziehen die Feme verhiillend, duster herauf ; Trauer 
 Wehmuth, und Angst umschleyern die Seele, — da entschllip- 
 fen von ihm wahrgenommen, zweileichtbeschwingteTagfalter 
 ihren auf den Blattern der Distel fest haftenden HUllen, und 
 heben sich in bunter Pracht, leicht und freudig aus, driick- 
 ender Sphare zum reinen lichten Aether erapor ; und sin- 
 Tiend, folgt ihnen sein emstesAuge, ergluhendin der Ahnung 
 eines hohem schonen Seyns. 
 
^^ Of THl 
 
 fuSIVBRSITT] 
 

THE FATE OF THE POET. 
 
 The Poet, or rather the Genius of Poetry personified, is 
 thrown into a world, where the lofty language, and the 
 noble aspirations of his divine art are either unknown or 
 not understood. He endeavours to adapt himself to the 
 sphere in which he is obliged to move, and descending from 
 his Pegasus, which in its airy flights bore him too far above 
 mortal ken, he is fain to mount a sorry steed of earthly 
 lineage. Hence it happens, that in attempting to wade 
 through some deceitful bottomless ford, (over which he ought 
 to have been borne aloft in winged safety,) the Ondines, 
 or water nymphs, seize and overpower him — they drag him 
 down to their cold twilight chambers beneath the wave, 
 where his life and sorrows find at least a poetical close. 
 
 Many a gifted spirit hath thus " felt the influence of 
 malignant star ;"" and forced from his high vocation, and 
 painfully toiling through the difiiculties of the world, thus 
 sinks beneath the wave of time, and finds, instead of fame 
 and honour, cold oblivion, despair and death. 
 
 This beautiful and singular conception might bear 
 several other interpretations, which are left to the imagination 
 of those who consider it attentively ; there is abundant food 
 for meditative fancy, both in the subject, and the grace 
 and endless variety of form and expression with which it 
 has been treated. 
 
 7 
 
LE DESTIN DU POETE. 
 
 Le Poete, ou plutot le Genie de la Poesie personnifie, est 
 jete dans un monde oh les expressions elevees et les nobles 
 aspirations de son art divin sont inconnues ou ne sont pas 
 comprises. II s'efforce de s'adapter a la sphere dans laquelle 
 il est oblige de se mouvoir, et descendant de son Pegase 
 qui lui faisoit prendre un essor trop au dessus de la portee 
 des mortels, il est force de monter une pauvre Rossinante 
 de race terrestre, il en resulte qu'en essayant de passer 
 a gu6 une eau trompeuse et profonde, au dessus de laquelle 
 son coursier aile I'auroit transporte sans danger, les On- 
 dines, ou les Nyraphes des eaux, le saisissent, en triomphent, 
 et I'entrainent dans leurs demeures froides et sombres au 
 dessous des ondes, ou sa vie et ses chagrins trouvent dii 
 moins une fin poetique. 
 
 Bien des esprits, doues de grands talens, ont eprouve ainsi 
 " I'influence d'une constellation malfaisante." Forces de 
 renoncer a leur haute vocation, ils luttent peniblement 
 contre les vagues du monde, sont engloutis par les eaux du 
 temps, et au lieu d'honneur et de renommee, trouvent les 
 glaces de I'oubli, du desespoir et de la mort. 
 
 On pourroit donner a cette belle et singuliere idee plu- 
 sieurs autres interpretations, qui sont laissees a Timagination 
 de ceux qui y reflechiront avec attention. II y a une source 
 abondante de meditations tant dans le sujet en lui m^me, 
 que dans la maniere gracieuse avec laquelle il a ete traite, 
 et dans la variete infinie de Texpression et des formes qu'il 
 presente. 
 
 8 
 
DER DICHTER IN DER GEWALT DER 
 UNDINEN. 
 
 Um in der Welt fortzukommen, das heisst, sein Brod zu 
 haben und verstanden zu werden, ist die personificirte 
 Poesie (der Dichter) meist nothgedrungen, antsatt den 
 Pegasus oft besteigen zu konnen, in hohere Regionen aufzu, 
 steigen, und in Begeisterung von Erhabenen Dingen zu 
 sprechen, (welche Dinge und Sprache dem grossen Haufen 
 der prosaischen Weltleute unbekannt und ganzlich unver- 
 standlich sind) fast ausschliesslich einen gewohnlichen Gaul 
 zu reiten, wodurch er, so auf niederer Bahn fortzutraben 
 gezwungen, spat oder friih ins Wasser der Alltaglichkeit ge- 
 rathend, gar bald seinen Untergang findend, noch gliicklich 
 zu preisen ist, wenn die Undinen ihn in ihr feuchtes Reich 
 herabziehen, und er sonach noch ein poetisches Ende mimmt, 
 Wie viele hochbegabte Kiinstler-und Dichter-genien, 
 verschwinden im Wellenschlag der Zeit, mehr oder weniger 
 auf jihnliche Weise. 
 

LOVE AND THE MAIDEN. 
 
 Love, pretending to be sick or overcome with sleep, is thus 
 found by an innocent girl, who compassionately takes the 
 little cheat upon her back, and carries him home to her 
 dwelling to nurse and restore him. There he will probably 
 make her feel (like Anacreon of old) the true attributes of 
 the guest she has harboured. 
 
 There is exquisite grace and simplicity in this little 
 group. The declined head and sleepy eyes of the Cupid, 
 and the lovely expression of the female, need hardly be 
 pointed out to admiration. 
 
 10 
 
UAMOUR ET LA JEUNE FILLE. 
 
 L' Amour, feignant d"'^tre malade ou accable de sommeil, 
 est ainsi trouve par une jeune fiUe innocente, qui, par com- 
 passion, prend le petit trompeur sur ses epaules, et le porte 
 chez elle pour en prendre soin et lui rend re la sante. La, 
 il lui fera probablement sentir, corame jadis a Anacreon, 
 quels sont les veritables attributs de I'hote qu"'elle a accueilli. 
 II y a une grace et une simplicite exquises dans ce petit 
 groupe. II est a peine besoin d'appeler I'admiration sur la 
 t^te penchee et les yeux assoupis de Cupidon, et sur Tex- 
 pression aimable de la physionomie de la jeune fille. 
 
 11 
 
AMOR UND DAS MADCHEN. 
 
 Amor sich krank oder schlaftrunken stellend, wird von 
 einem jungen unschuldigen Madchen mitleidig auf den 
 Riicken genoramen, um denselben nach ihrer Wohnung zu 
 tragen und da zu pflegen ; was ihr der Schalk nach seiner 
 Weise wohl bitter vergelten wird 
 
,^ 
 
 
THE TORMENTED SPIRIT. 
 
 A GOOD angel or genius is vainly struggling in the power 
 of two demons who are tearing the plumes from his out- 
 stretched wings, and shake their infernal torches over his 
 head. The Tormented Spirit looks upward for aid, but 
 sees, interposing between himself and compassionate Hea- 
 ven, the fiend, by whose mandate he is thus afflicted. 
 There are those among the best and most gifted of human 
 spirits, who suffer for a time under the agonizing influ- 
 ence of evil thoughts and unknown sin. With torn and 
 ruffled pinions they grovel on the earth for a season, till their 
 plumes are renewed, and they spring with fresh vigour 
 into the regions of imagination. 
 
 " What man is he that boasts of fleshly might. 
 And vain assurance of mortality. 
 Which all so soon as he doth come to fight 
 Against spiritual foes, yields by and by. 
 Or from the field most cowardly doth fly ! 
 Ne let that man ascribe it to his skill, 
 That thro' high grace hath gained victory ; 
 If any strength we have it is to ill. 
 But all the good is God's, both power and eke the will." 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 13 
 
L'ESPRIT TOURMENTE. 
 
 Un bon ange on un bon genie lutte en vain centre le pou- 
 voir de deux demons qui arrachent les plumes de ses ailes 
 deployees, et qui secouent sur sa tete leurs torches in- 
 fernales. L'esprit tourmente leve les yeux comma pour 
 demander du secours, mais il voit entre lui et le ciel com- 
 patissant I'^tre diabolique par I'ordre duquel il est ainsi 
 persecute. Parrai les meilleurs des esprits humains, parmi 
 ceux qui ont re^u le plus de dons du ciel, il en est qui souf- 
 frent pour un temps sous Tinfluence cruelle de mauvaises 
 pensees et de peches inconnus. Incapables de prendre 
 I'essor, ils rampent quelque temps sur la terre ; mais enfin 
 les plumes de leurs ailes repoussent, et ils s'elancent avec 
 une nouvelle vigueur dans les regions de I'imagination. 
 
 " Quel est rhomme qui, fier de sa force physique, et comptant 
 vainement sur la foiblesse humaine ne c^de pas la victoire, ou ne 
 fuit pas lachement du champ de bataille, quand il a a combattre des 
 ennemis spirituels ? Que celui qui, par le secours d'en haut, est 
 reste victorieux, ne s'en attribue pas la gloire. Si nous avons quel- 
 que force, c'est pour le mal ; mais tout le bien procMe du pouvoir 
 et de la volonte de Dieu." 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 14 
 
DES GENIUS GEISSLUNG. 
 
 Uberfallen und niedergeworfen von zwei kraftigen Un- 
 holden, die ihn mit Flamengeisseln furchtbar auspeitschen, 
 und fest bei den Schwingen gehalten, wodurch manche 
 Schwungfeder verloren geht, strebt vergebens dieser Engel 
 sie zum Mitleid zu bewegen,und sich frei zu machen; auf das 
 Gebot ihres auf einer Wolke reitenden, sich an den Qualen 
 des gepeinigten weidenden Obern, lassen sie nicht eher nach, 
 bis ihnen ein anderes Opfer angewiesen wird. So gepeinigt 
 und gestraft fur unbekannte Schuld fiihlt sich gar oft 
 der gute Engel im bessern Menschen, und vermag nichts 
 dagegen zu thun als auszuhalten und zu dulden ; er verliert 
 auf einige Zeit die Schwungkraft, bis die verletzten Schwin- 
 gen durch neue Federn ersetzt, neue Kraft zum Aufsch- 
 wung erhalten. 
 
 15 
 
LOVE REPOSING. 
 
 False love ! why do men say thou canst not see, 
 And in their foolish fancy feign thee blind ? 
 
 That with thy charms the sharpest sight dost bind. 
 And to thy will abuse ? 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 Cupid, tired of his sport, has flung down his bow and 
 quiver, and lies stretched at the foot of a tree, where 
 he reposes with half-shut eyes, laughing to himself at 
 his past exploits, and meditating new mischief. 
 
 16 
 
L'AMOUR SE REPOSANT. 
 
 " Amour trompeur ! pourquoi dit. on que tu ne peux voir ? Pour- 
 quoi la foUe imagination des hommes te peint elle aveugle ; toi 
 dont les charmes savent abuser les yeux les plus clair-voyans, et leur 
 faire voir ce que bon te semble ?" 
 
 Spenser. 
 
 CuPiDON, las de ses folies, a jete par terre son arc et son 
 carquois et s'est etendu au pied d'un arbre. 11 s'y repose, 
 les yeux a demi fermes, riant en lui merae de ses exploits 
 passes, et meditant de nouvelles malices. 
 
 17 
 
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 J AH 5 ^ 
 
 ^9 
 
 
 
 ... BERK. 
 
 
 UNIV. Otr '—«'- 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY 
 , FORM NO. DDO, 15m, 2/84 BERKELEY, CA 94720 
 
DER LIEGENDE AMOR. 
 
 Amor, behaglich an einem Baum hingestreckt, blickt 
 lachelnd und veischraitzt, mit halbgeschlossenen Augen, nach 
 irgend einem Gegenstand, M'adchen oder Knabe, und scheint 
 auf Neckerei zu sinnen ; seine Waffen liegen nachl'assig 
 hingeworfen umhers unweit von ihm das Taubenpaar seiner 
 Mutter sich schn'abelnd. 
 
 MORITZ RETZSCH. 
 
 
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