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Greekdom!-what was she?-Sense, and Measure, and Brightness-I therefore

Crave, sirs, your patience awhile, ere you of Greek to us prate.

Noble and lofty your theme-may you only have wit to maintain it,

Lest it become in your mouths matter of laughter

and scorn.

Die Sonntagskinder.

YEAR after year the Master plods on, and is never the nearer,

Whilst to the genial race oft 'tis in visions made known.

What they but yesterday learn'd, to-day they would teach to the hearer

Ah! what easy digestions those excellent people

must own!

WHICH Of

Die Homeriden.

you all is the Bard of the Iliad?-here are some puddings

Heyné has, just for a smack, sent him from Gottingen down.

"Give them to me! I sang the wrath of the kings" "I the battle

Close by the ships"-" And I, what upon Ida befell."

Hold!

pray don't tear me to pieces-there's not enough pudding for all, friends.

He by whom they were sent order'd no more than for ONE.

Die Danaiden.

LONG have we pour'd in the sieve, and long the stone have been hatching

But the stone ne'er will get warm; no-nor the sieve ever full.

KANT AND HIS COMMENTATORS.

How may one rich Man find so many beggars in living?

How?-when a Monarch builds, Draymen have plenty to do.

A LESSON IN ART.

WOULDST thou, at once, that the sons of the world, and the godly, applaud thee—

Paint the voluptuous-paint only the Devil be

APPENDIX.

OF SOME OF THE EARLIER POEMS.

THE Poems inserted in this Appendix are a few only out of a much larger number belonging to what has been variously styled, with reference to the name of his first Tragedy, the Rauber-period, or as descriptive of the character of his impetuous youth, the Sturm-und-Drang-period, of Schiller's life. The Reader is referred to the Preface for the reasons which have induced the omission of the remainder in the present collection.

Hektors Abschied. 1780.

THESE Stanzas were inserted in Schiller's youthful Tragedy of "The Robbers," and have retained the first place in every collection of his Poems. They are remarkable also as shewing how early his imagination connected itself with the characters and events of the Iliad, which continued to the last to furnish the subject of many of his most powerful compositions. The Siegesfest was written within two years before his death.

ANDROM ACHE.

WILL my Hector from me part for ever?-
Go where fierce Achilles, sated never,
Heaps his offerings at Patroclus' bier?

Who, in future years, when thou hast perish'd—
Who will bid thy young Hope, fondly cherish'd,
Hurl the javelin, and the Gods revere?

HECTOR.

Dearest wife, restrain thy tears from flowing!
For the death-field is my bosom glowing;
By these arms upheld hath Ilion stood.
Fate I'll meet with soul that never falters;
And, Protector of my country's altars,
Pass exulting to the Stygian flood.

ANDROMACHE.

Never more thy clanging arms to listen!
Idly in the hall to see them glisten—
Priam's race of heroes, all destroy'd?

Thou must hence to where no day-star shineth—
Where Cocytus midst his deserts pineth—

All thy love forgot in Lethe's void!

HECTOR.

All my thoughts, and all my soul's desiring
Will I quit at Lethe's sad requiring-
But my love will ne'er resign.

Hark! already at the walls 'tis burning!
Gird my good sword on! forego thy mourning!
Hector's love shall live in Lethe's spite.

Die Kindesmörderin. 1782.

In this Poem, which stands among the first of the Poet's early productions, a recent critic remarks that his true genius has displayed itself to great advantage as contrasted with the tempestuous cloudiness that marks the generality of his youthful conceptions. He is here forced, by the very nature of his subject, to leave his ideal world in the background, and his strong, powerful enthusiasm is brought nto unison with the mental condition of the unhappy being with whom he identifies himself. There is indeed nothing to individualize the Luise of his imagination; but the circumstances of her story are handled with all possible tenderness, the association of her conflicting passions is strongly marked, and the whole constructed in a masterly manner.

The Poem deserves notice, also, as having probably suggested to Wordsworth his "Thorn," and to Goëthe the Margaret of his great dramatic fable.

HARK !—'tis the clanging bells' drear sound!
Come, Sisters, to the grave with me—
Look there!—the hand hath moved its round,
Come on-in God's name let it be.
Receive, fond world, this last, last tear;
This sigh for raptures that are o'er;
Thy poison'd spells, alas! were dear,—
Enchantress, they shall charm no more.

And must I for cold burial earth

Leave all the happy sun makes bright? -Sweet season of the rose's birth!

Farewell!-Love's spring-time of delight!

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