Volume 5 / Book 3 — FRIEDRICH RÜCKERT
Reading edition
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BARBAROSSA[49] (Between 1814 and 1817)
The ancient Barbarossa, Friedrich, the Kaiser great, Within the castle-cavern Sits in enchanted state.
He did not die; but ever Waits in the chamber deep, Where hidden under the castle He sat himself to sleep.
The splendor of the Empire He took with him away, And back to earth will bring it When dawns the promised day.
The chair is ivory purest Whereof he makes his bed; The table is of marble Whereon he props his head.
His beard, not flax, but burning With fierce and fiery glow, Right through the marble table Beneath his chair does grow.
He nods in dreams and winketh With dull, half-open eyes, And once a page he beckons beckons— A page that standeth by.
[Illustration: FRIEDRICH RÜCKERT]
He bids the boy in slumber "O dwarf, go up this hour, And see if still the ravens Are flying round the tower;
And if the ancient ravens Still wheel above us here, Then must I sleep enchanted For many a hundred year."
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FROM MY CHILDHOOD DAYS[50] (1817, 1818)
From my childhood days, from my childhood days, Rings an old song's plaintive tone— Oh, how long the ways, oh, how long the ways I since have gone!
What the swallow sang, what the swallow sang, In spring or in autumn warm— Do its echoes hang, do its echoes hang About the farm?
"When I went away, when I went away, Full coffers and chests were there; When I came today, when I came today, All, all was bare!"
Childish lips so wise, childish lips so wise, With a lore as rich as gold, Knowing all birds' cries, knowing all birds' cries, Like the sage of old!
Ah, the dear old place—ah, the dear old place * * * May its sweet consoling gleam Shine upon my face, shine upon my face, Once in a dream!
When I went away, when I went away, Full of joy the world lay there; When I came today, when I came today, All, all was bare.
Still the swallows come, still the swallows come, And the empty chest is filled— But this longing dumb, but this longing dumb Shall ne'er be stilled.
Nay, no swallow brings, nay, no swallow brings Thee again where thou wast before— Though the swallow sings, though the swallow sings, Still as of yore.
"When I went away, when I went away, Full coffers and chests were there; When I came today, when I came today, All, all was bare!"
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THE SPRING OF LOVE[51] (1821)
Dearest, thy discourses steal From my bosom's deep, my heart How can I from thee conceal My delight, my sorrow's smart?
Dearest, when I hear thy lyre From its chains my soul is free. To the holy angel quire From the earth, O let us flee!
[Illustration: MEMORIES OF YOUTH]
Dearest, how thy music's charms Waft me dancing through the sky! Let me round thee clasp my arms, Lest in glory I should die!
Dearest, sunny wreaths I wear, Twined around me by thy lay. For thy garlands, rich and rare, O how can I thank thee? Say!
Like the angels I would be Without mortal frame, Whose sweet converse is like thought, Sounding with acclaim;
Or like flowers in the dale; Like the stars that glow, Whose love-song's a beam, whose words Like sweet odors flow;
Or like to the breeze of morn, Waving round its rose, In love's dallying caress Melting as it blows.
But the love-lorn nightingale Melteth not away; She doth but with longing tones Chant her plaintive lay.
I am, too, a nightingale, Songless though I sing; 'Tis my pen that speaks, though ne'er In the ear it ring.
Beaming images of thought Doth the pen portray; But without thy gentle smile Lifeless e'er are they.
As thy look falls on the leaf, It begins to sing, And the prize that's due to love In her ear doth ring.
Like a Memmon's statue now Every letter seems, Which in music wakes, when kissed By the morning's beams.
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"HE CAME TO MEET ME"[52] (1821)
He came to meet me In rain and thunder; My heart 'gan beating In timid wonder. Could I guess whither Thenceforth together Our path should run, so long asunder?
He came to meet me In rain and thunder, With guile to cheat me— My heart to plunder. Was't mine he captured? Or his I raptured? Half-way both met, in bliss and wonder!
He came to meet me In rain and thunder; Spring-blessings greet me Spring-blossoms under. What though he leave me? No partings grieve me— No path can lead our hearts asunder.
* * * * * THE INVITATION[53] (1821)
Thou, thou art rest And peace of soul— Thou woundst the breast And makst it whole.
To thee I vow 'Mid joy or pain My heart, where thou Mayst aye remain.
Then enter free, And bar the door To all but thee Forevermore.
All other woes Thy charms shall lull; Of sweet repose This heart be full.
My worshipping eyes Thy presence bright Shall still suffice, Their only light.
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MURMUR NOT[54]
Murmur not and say thou art in fetters holden, Murmur not that thou earth's heavy yoke must bear. Say not that a prison is this world so golden— 'Tis thy murmurs only set its harsh walls there.
Question not how shall this riddle find its reading; It will solve itself full soon without thine aid. Say not love hath turned his back, and left thee bleeding— Whom hath love deserted, hast thou heard it said?
If death tries to fright thee, fear not beyond measure; He will flee from those who boldly face his frown. Hunt not thou the fleeting deer of worldly pleasure— Lion it will turn, and hunt the hunter down. Chain thyself no longer, heart, to any treasure; Then thou shalt not say thou art into fetters thrown.
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A PARABLE[55] (1822)
In Syria walked a man one day And led a camel on the way. A sudden wildness seized the beast, And as they strove its rage increased. So fearsome grew its savagery That for his life the man must flee. And as he ran, he spied a cave That one last chance of safety gave. He heard the snorting beast behind Come nearer—with distracted mind Leaped where the cooling fountain sprang, Yet not to fall, but catch and hang; By lucky hap a bramble wild Grew where the o'erhanging rocks were piled. He saved himself by this alone, And did his hapless state bemoan. He looked above, and there was yet Too close the furious camel's threat That still of fearful rage was full. He dropped his eyes toward the pool, And saw within the shadows dim A dragon's jaws agape for him— A still more fierce and dangerous foe If he should slip and fall below. So, hanging midway of the two, He spied a cause of terror new: Where to the rock's deep crevice clung The slender root on which he swung, A little pair of mice he spied, A black and white one side by side— First one and then the other saw The slender stem alternate gnaw. They gnawed and bit with ceaseless toil, And from the roots they tossed the soil. As down it ran in trickling stream, The dragon's eyes shot forth a gleam Of hungry expectation, gazed Where o'er him still the man was raised, To see how soon the bush would fall, The burden that it bore, and all. That man in utmost fear and dread Surrounded, threatened, hard bested, In such a state of dire suspense Looked vainly round for some defense. And as he cast his bloodshot eye First here, then there, saw hanging nigh A branch with berries ripe and red; Then longing mastered all his dread; No more the camel's rage he saw, Nor yet the lurking dragon's maw, Nor malice of the gnawing mice, When once the berries caught his eyes. The furious beast might rage above, The dragon watch his every move, The mice gnaw on—naught heeded he, But seized the berries greedily— In pleasing of his appetite The furious beast forgotten quite.
You ask, "What man could ever yet, So foolish, all his fears forget?" Then know, my friend, that man are you— And see the meaning plain to view. The dragon in the pool beneath Sets forth the yawning jaws of death; The beast from which you helpless flee Is life and all its misery. There you must hang 'twixt life and death While in this world you draw your breath. The mice, whose pitiless gnawing teeth Will let you to the pool beneath Fall down, a hopeless castaway, Are but the change of night and day. The black one gnaws concealed from sight Till comes again the morning light; From dawn until the eve is gray, Ceaseless the white one gnaws away. And, 'midst this dreadful choice of ills, Pleasure of sense your spirit fills Till you forget the terrors grim That wait to tear you limb from limb, The gnawing mice of day and night, And pay no heed to aught in sight Except to fill your mouth with fruit That in the grave-clefts has its root.
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EVENING SONG[56] (1823)
I stood on the mountain summit, At the hour when the sun did set; I mark'd how it hung o'er the woodland The evening's golden net.
And, with the dew descending, A peace on the earth there fell— And nature lay hushed in quiet, At the voice of the evening bell.
I said, "O heart, consider What silence all things keep, And with each child of the meadow Prepare thyself to sleep!
"For every flower is closing In silence its little eye; And every wave in the brooklet More softly murmureth by.
"The weary caterpillar Hath nestled beneath the weeds; All wet with dew now slumbers The dragon-fly in the reeds.
"The golden beetle hath laid him In a rose-leaf cradle to rock; Now went to their nightly shelter The shepherd and his flock.
"The lark from on high is seeking In the moistened grass her nest; The hart and the hind have laid them In their woodland haunt to rest.
"And whoso owneth a cottage To slumber hath laid him down; And he that roams among strangers In dreams shall behold his own."
And now doth a yearning seize me, At this hour of peace and love, That I cannot reach the dwelling, The home that is mine, above.
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CHIDHER[57] (1824)
Chidher, the ever youthful, told: I passed a city, bright to see; A man was culling fruits of gold, I asked him how old this town might be. He answered, culling as before "This town stood ever in days of yore, And will stand on forevermore!" Five hundred years from yonder day I passed again the selfsame way,
And of the town I found no trace; A shepherd blew on a reed instead; His herd was grazing on the place. "How long," I asked, "is the city dead?" He answered, blowing as before "The new crop grows the old one o'er, This was my pasture evermore!" Five hundred years from yonder day I passed again the selfsame way.
A sea I found, the tide was full, A sailor emptied nets with cheer; And when he rested from his pull, I asked how long that sea was here. Then laughed he with a hearty roar "As long as waves have washed this shore They fished here ever in days of yore." Five hundred years from yonder day I passed again the selfsame way.
I found a forest settlement, And o'er his axe, a tree to fell, I saw a man in labor bent. How old this wood I bade him tell. "'Tis everlasting, long before I lived it stood in days of yore," He quoth; "and shall grow evermore." Five hundred years from yonder day I passed again the selfsame way.
I saw a town; the market-square Was swarming with a noisy throng. "How long," I asked, "has this town been there? Where are wood and sea and shepherd's song?" They cried, nor heard among the roar "This town was ever so before, And so will live forevermore!" "Five hundred years from yonder day I want to pass the selfsame way."
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AT FORTY YEARS[58] (1832)
When for forty years we've climbed the rugged mountain, We stop and backward gaze; Yonder still we see our childhood's peaceful fountain, And youth exulting strays.
One more glance behind, and then, new strength acquiring, Staff grasped, no longer stay; See, a further slope, a long one, still aspiring Ere downward turns the way!
Take a brave long breath and toward the summit hie thee— The goal shall draw thee on; When thou think'st it least, the destined end is nigh thee— Sudden, the journey's done!
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BEFORE THE DOORS[59]
I went to knock at Riches' door; They threw me a farthing the threshold o'er.
To the door of Love did I then repair— But fifteen others already were there.
To Honor's castle I took my flight— They opened to none but to belted knight.
The house of Labor I sought to win— But I heard a wailing sound within.
To the house of Content I sought the way— But none could tell me where it lay.
One quiet house I yet could name, Where last of all, I'll admittance claim;
Many the guests that have knocked before, But still—in the grave—there's room for more.
[Illustration: AUGUST GRAF VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND]