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

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        And with the joy-resounding tromp,

          Rang out the millions' loud hurra!

        For, closed at last the age of slaughter,

        When human blood was pour'd as water—

              LAW dawns upon the world![20]

        Sharp force no more shall right the wrong,

        And grind the weak to crown the strong—

              War's carnage-flag is furl'd!

        In Rudolf's hand the goblet shines—

          And gaily round the board look'd he;

        "And proud the feast, and bright the wines

          My kingly heart feels glad to me!

        Yet where the Gladness-Bringer—blest

        In the sweet art which moves the breast

              With lyre and verse divine?

        Dear from my youth the craft of song,

        And what as knight I loved so long,

              As Kaiser, still be mine."

        Lo, from the circle bending there,

          With sweeping robe the Bard appears,

        As silver white his gleaming hair,

          Bleach'd by the many winds of years;

        "And music sleeps in golden strings—

        Love's rich reward the minstrel sings,

              Well known to him the ALL

        High thoughts and ardent souls desire!

        What would the Kaiser from the lyre

              Amidst the banquet-hall?"

        The Great One smiled—"Not mine the sway—

          The minstrel owns a loftier power—

        A mightier king inspires the lay—

          Its hest—THE IMPULSE OF THE HOUR!"

        As through wide air the tempests sweep,

        As gush the springs from mystic deep,

              Or lone untrodden glen;

        So from dark hidden fount within

        Comes SONG, its own wild world to win

              Amidst the souls of men!

        Swift with the fire the minstrel glow'd,

          And loud the music swept the ear:—

        "Forth to the chase a Hero rode,

          To hunt the bounding chamois-deer;

        With shaft and horn the squire behind;—

        Through greensward meads the riders wind—

              A small sweet bell they hear.

        Lo, with the HOST, a holy man—

        Before him strides the sacristan,

              And the bell sounds near and near.

        "The noble hunter down-inclined

          His reverent head and soften'd eye,

        And honor'd with a Christian's mind

          The Christ who loves humility!

        Loud through the pasture, brawls and raves

        A brook—the rains had fed the waves,

              And torrents from the bill.

        His sandal-shoon the priest unbound,

        And laid the Host upon the ground,

              And near'd the swollen rill!

        "What wouldst thou, priest?" the Count began,

          As, marveling much, he halted there,

        "Sir Count, I seek a dying man,

          Sore-hungering for the heavenly fare.

        The bridge that once its safety gave,

        Rent by the anger of the wave,

              Drifts down the tide below.

        Yet barefoot now, I will not fear

        (The soul that seeks its God, to cheer)

              Through the wild wave to go!"

        "He gave that priest the knightly steed,

          He reach'd that priest the lordly reins,

        That he might serve the sick man's need,

          Nor slight the task that heaven ordains.

        He took the horse the squire bestrode;

              On to the sick, the priest!

        And when the morrow's sun was red,

        The servant of the Savior led

              Back to its lord the beast.

        "'Now Heaven forfend!' the Hero cried,

          'That e'er to chase or battle more

        These limbs the sacred steed bestride

          That once my Maker's image bore;

        If not a boon allow'd to thee,

        Thy Lord and mine its Master be,

              My tribute to the King,

        From whom I hold, as fiefs, since birth,

        Honor, renown, the goods of earth,

              Life and each living thing!"

        "'So may the God, who faileth never

          To hear the weak and guide the dim,

        To thee give honor here and ever,

          As thou hast duly honor'd Him!'

        Far-famed ev'n now through Swisserland

        Thy generous heart and dauntless hand;

              And fair from thine embrace

        Six daughters bloom,[21] six crowns to bring,

        Blest as the daughters of a KING,

              The mothers of a RACE!"

        The mighty Kaiser heard amazed!

          His heart was in the days of old;

        Into the minstrel's heart he gazed,

          That tale the Kaiser's own had told.

        Yes, in the bard the priest he knew,

        And in the purple veil'd from view

              The gush of holy tears!

        A thrill through that vast audience ran,

        And every heart the godlike man

              Revering God—reveres!

      Wagner]

      FOOTNOTES:

      [Footnote 3: Though the Ideal images of youth forsake us, the Ideal itself still remains to the Poet. It is his task and his companion, for, unlike the Phantasies of Fortune, Fame, and Love, the Phantasies of the Ideal are imperishable. СКАЧАТЬ