The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">       My austere master only, not my friend.

       There was already war ‘twixt him and me

       When he delivered the Commander’s Staff 65

       Into my hands; for there’s a natural

       Unceasing war ‘twixt cunning and suspicion;

       Peace exists only betwixt confidence

       And faith. Who poisons confidence, he murders

       The future generations.

      Max. I will not 70

       Defend my father. Woe is me, I cannot!

       Hard deeds and luckless have ta’en place, one crime

       Drags after it the other in close link.

       But we are innocent: how have we fallen

       Into this circle of mishap and guilt? 75

       To whom have we been faithless? Wherefore must

       The evil deeds and guilt reciprocal

       Of our two fathers twine like serpents round us?

       Why must our fathers’

       Unconquerable hate rend us asunder,

       Who love each other?

      Wallenstein. Max, remain with me. 80

       Go you not from me, Max! Hark! I will tell thee —

       How when at Prague, our winter quarters, thou

       Wert brought into my tent a tender boy,

       Not yet accustomed to the German winters;

       Thy hand was frozen to the heavy colours; 85

       Thou would’st not let them go. —

       At that time did I take thee in my arms,

       And with my mantle did I cover thee;

       I was thy nurse, no woman could have been

       A kinder to thee; I was not ashamed 90

       To do for thee all little offices,

       However strange to me; I tended thee

       Till life returned; and when thine eyes first opened,

       I had thee in my arms. Since then, when have I

       Altered my feelings towards thee? Many thousands 95

       Have I made rich, presented them with lands;

       Rewarded them with dignities and honours;

       Thee have I loved: my heart, my self, I gave

       To thee! They all were aliens: thou wert

       Our child and inmate. Max! Thou canst not leave me; 100

       It cannot be; I may not, will not think

       That Max can leave me.

      Max. O my God!

      Wallenstein. I have

       Held and sustained thee from thy tottering childhood.

       What holy bond is there of natural love?

       What human tie, that does not knit thee to me? 105

       I love thee, Max! What did thy father for thee,

       Which I too have not done, to the height of duty?

       Go hence, forsake me, serve thy Emperor;

       He will reward thee with a pretty chain

       Of gold; with his ram’s fleece will he reward thee; 110

       For that the friend, the father of thy youth,

       For that the holiest feeling of humanity,

       Was nothing worth to thee.

      Max. O God! how can I

       Do otherwise? Am I not forced to do it?

       My oath — my duty — honour —

      Wallenstein. How? Thy duty? 115

       Duty to whom? Who art thou? Max! bethink thee

       What duties may’st thou have? If I am acting

       A criminal part toward the Emperor,

       It is my crime, not thine. Dost thou belong

       To thine own self? Art thou thine own commander? 120

       Stand’st thou, like me, a freeman in the world,

       That in thy actions thou should’st plead free agency?

       On me thou’rt planted, I am thy Emperor;

       To obey me, to belong to me, this is

       Thy honour, this a law of nature to thee! 125

       And if the planet, on the which thou liv’st

       And hast thy dwelling, from its orbit starts,

       It is not in thy choice, whether or no

       Thou’lt follow it. Unfelt it whirls thee onward

       Together with his ring and all his moons. 130

       With little guilt stepp’st thou into this contest,

       Thee will the world not censure, it will praise thee,

       For that thou heldst thy friend more worth to thee

       Than names and influences more removed.

       For justice is the virtue of the ruler, 135

       Affection and fidelity the subject’s.

       Not every one doth it beseem to question

       The far-off high Arcturus. Most securely

       Wilt thou pursue the nearest duty — let

       The pilot fix his eye upon the pole-star. 140

      WALLENSTEIN.

      Du schilderst deines Vaters Herz. Wie Du’s

       Beschreibst, so ist’s in seinem Eingeweide,

       In dieser schwarzen Heuchlersbrust gestaltet.

       O mich hat Höllenkunst getäuscht. Mir sandte

       Der Abgrund den verstecktesten der Geister,

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