Part 514 (1/2)

Dissension flies, all tempests end, And chained is strife abhorred; We in the crater may descend From whence the lava poured.

A gracious fate conduct thee through Life's wild and mazy track!

A bosom nature gave thee true,-- A bosom true bring back!

Thou'lt visit lands that war's wild train Had crushed with careless heed; Now smiling peace salutes the plain, And strews the golden seed.

The h.o.a.ry Father Rhine thou'lt greet, Who thy forefather [58] blest Will think of, whilst his waters fleet In ocean's bed to rest.

Do homage to the hero's manes, And offer to the Rhine, The German frontier who maintains, His own-created wine,--

So that thy country's soul thy guide May be, when thou hast crossed On the frail bark to yonder side, Where German faith is lost!

THE IDEAL OF WOMAN.

TO AMANDA.

Woman in everything yields to man; but in that which is highest, Even the manliest man yields to the woman most weak.

But that highest,--what is it? The gentle radiance of triumph As in thy brow upon me, beauteous Amanda, it beams.

When o'er the bright s.h.i.+ning disk the clouds of affliction are fleeting, Fairer the image appears, seen through the vapor of gold.

Man may think himself free! thou art so,--for thou never knowest What is the meaning of choice,--know'st not necessity's name.

That which thou givest, thou always givest wholly; but one art thou ever, Even thy tenderest sound is thine harmonious self.

Youth everlasting dwells here, with fulness that never is exhausted, And with the flower at once pluckest thou the ripe golden fruit.

THE FOUNTAIN OF SECOND YOUTH.

Trust me, 'tis not a mere tale,--the fountain of youth really runneth, Runneth forever. Thou ask'st, where? In the poet's sweet art!

WILLIAM TELL. [59]

When hostile elements with rage resound, And fury blindly fans war's lurid flame,-- When in the strife of party quarrel drowned, The voice of justice no regard can claim,-- When crime is free, and impious hands are found The sacred to pollute, devoid of shame, And loose the anchor which the state maintains,-- No subject there we find for joyous strains.

But when a nation, that its flocks still feeds With calm content, nor other's wealth desires Throws off the cruel yoke 'neath which it bleeds, Yet, e'en in wrath, humanity admires,-- And, e'en in triumph, moderation heeds,-- That is immortal, and our song requires.

To show thee such an image now is mine; Thou knowest it well, for all that's great is thine!

TO A YOUNG FRIEND DEVOTING HIMSELF TO PHILOSOPHY.

Severe the proof the Grecian youth was doomed to undergo, Before he might what lurks beneath the Eleusinia know-- Art thou prepared and ripe, the shrine--the inner shrine--to win, Where Pallas guards from vulgar eyes the mystic prize within?