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The Poems of Schiller — First period   By: (1759-1805)

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Hector and Andromache Amalia A Funeral Fantasie Fantasie To Laura To Laura at the Harpsichord Group from Tartarus Rapture To Laura To Laura (The Mystery of Reminiscence) Melancholy To Laura The Infanticide The Greatness of the World Fortune and Wisdom Elegy on the Death of a Young Man The Battle Rousseau Friendship Elysium The Fugitive To Minna The Flowers The Triumph of Love (A Hymn) To a Moralist Count Eberhard, the Groaner of Wurtemburg To the Spring Semele




[This and the following poem are, with some alterations, introduced in the Play of "The Robbers."]

ANDROMACHE. Will Hector leave me for the fatal plain, Where, fierce with vengeance for Patroclus slain, Stalks Peleus' ruthless son? Who, when thou glid'st amid the dark abodes, To hurl the spear and to revere the gods, Shall teach thine orphan one?

HECTOR. Woman and wife beloved cease thy tears; My soul is nerved the war clang in my ears! Be mine in life to stand Troy's bulwark! fighting for our hearths, to go In death, exulting to the streams below, Slain for my fatherland!

ANDROMACHE. No more I hear thy martial footsteps fall Thine arms shall hang, dull trophies, on the wall Fallen the stem of Troy! Thou goest where slow Cocytus wanders where Love sinks in Lethe, and the sunless air Is dark to light and joy!

HECTOR. Longing and thought yes, all I feel and think May in the silent sloth of Lethe sink, But my love not! Hark, the wild swarm is at the walls! I hear! Gird on my sword Beloved one, dry the tear Lethe for love is not!


Angel fair, Walhalla's charms displaying, Fairer than all mortal youths was he; Mild his look, as May day sunbeams straying Gently o'er the blue and glassy sea.

And his kisses! what ecstatic feeling! Like two flames that lovingly entwine, Like the harp's soft tones together stealing Into one sweet harmony divine,

Soul and soul embraced, commingled, blended, Lips and cheeks with trembling passion burned, Heaven and earth, in pristine chaos ended, Round the blissful lovers madly turn'd.

He is gone and, ah! with bitter anguish Vainly now I breathe my mournful sighs; He is gone in hopeless grief I languish Earthly joys I ne'er again can prize!


Pale, at its ghastly noon, Pauses above the death still wood the moon; The night sprite, sighing, through the dim air stirs; The clouds descend in rain; Mourning, the wan stars wane, Flickering like dying lamps in sepulchres! Haggard as spectres vision like and dumb, Dark with the pomp of death, and moving slow, Towards that sad lair the pale procession come Where the grave closes on the night below.

With dim, deep sunken eye, Crutched on his staff, who trembles tottering by? As wrung from out the shattered heart, one groan Breaks the deep hush alone! Crushed by the iron fate, he seems to gather All life's last strength to stagger to the bier, And hearken Do these cold lips murmur "Father?" The sharp rain, drizzling through that place of fear, Pierces the bones gnawed fleshless by despair, And the heart's horror stirs the silver hair.

Fresh bleed the fiery wounds Through all that agonizing heart undone Still on the voiceless lips "my Father" sounds, And still the childless Father murmurs "Son!" Ice cold ice cold, in that white shroud he lies Thy sweet and golden dreams all vanished there The sweet and golden name of "Father" dies Into thy curse, ice cold ice cold he lies! Dead, what thy life's delight and Eden were!

Mild, as when, fresh from the arms of Aurora, While the air like Elysium is smiling above, Steeped in rose breathing odors, the darling of Flora Wantons over the blooms on his winglets of love... Continue reading book >>

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