Dithyramb. [23]

Believe me, together
The bright gods come ever,
    Still as of old;
Scarce see I Bacchus, the giver of joy,
Than comes up fair Eros, the laugh-loving boy,
    And Phoebus, the stately, behold!

They come near and nearer,
    The heavenly ones all
The gods with their presence
    Fill earth as their hall!

Say, how shall I welcome,
Human and earthborn,
    Sons of the sky?
Pour out to me pour the full life that ye live!
What to ye, O ye gods! can the mortal one give?

The joys can dwell only
    In Jupiter's palace
Brimmed bright with your nectar,
    Oh, reach me the chalice!

"Hebe, the chalice
Fill full to the brim!
Steep his eyes steep his eyes in the bath of the dew,
Let him dream, while the Styx is concealed from his view,
That the life of the gods is for him!"

It murmurs, it sparkles,
    The fount of delight;
The bosom grows tranquil
    The eye becomes bright.

Friedrich Schiller

Friedrich Schiller was a renowned German poet, philosopher, physician, historian, and playwright. Born on November 10, 1759, in Marbach am Neckar, and passing away on May 9, 1805, in Weimar, Schiller is considered one of the most important figures in German literature. His works, including 'Ode to Joy' and 'William Tell', have left a lasting impact on Western literature and thought.

Friedrich Schiller

The Sublime Subject.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

Geniality.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Observer.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Alpine Hunter.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

English

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The Gods Of Greece.

Ye in the age gone by,
Who ruled the world a world how lovely then!
And guided still the steps of happy men
In the light leading-strings of careless joy!
Ah, flourished then your service of delight!
How different, oh, how different, in the day
When thy sweet fanes with many a wreath were bright,
O Venus Amathusia!

Then, through a veil of dreams
Woven by song, truth's youthful beauty glowed,
And life's redundant and rejoicing streams
Gave to the soulless, soul where'r they flowed
Man gifted nature with divinity
To lift and link her to the breast of love;
All things betrayed to the initiate eye
The track of gods above!

Where lifeless fixed afar,
A flaming ball to our dull sense is given,
Phoebus Apollo, in his golden car,
In silent glo...

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Evening.

        (AFTER A PICTURE.)

Oh! thou bright-beaming god, the plains are thirsting,
Thirsting for freshening dew, and man is pining;
        Wearily move on thy horses
        Let, then, thy chariot descend!

Seest thou her who, from ocean's crystal billows,
Lovingly nods and smiles? Thy heart must know her!
        Joyously speed on thy horses,
        Tethys, the goddess, 'tis nods!

Swiftly from out his flaming chariot leaping,
Into her arms he springs, the reins takes Cupid,
        Quietly stand the horses,
        Drinking the cooling flood.

Now from the heavens with gentle step descending,
Balmy night appears, by sweet love followed;
        Mortals, rest ye, and love ye,
        Phoebus, the loving one, rests!

Friedrich Schiller

The Fortune-Favored. [53]

Ah! happy he, upon whose birth each god
Looks down in love, whose earliest sleep the bright
Idalia cradles, whose young lips the rod
Of eloquent Hermes kindles to whose eyes,
Scarce wakened yet, Apollo steals in light,
While on imperial brows Jove sets the seal of might!
Godlike the lot ordained for him to share,
He wins the garland ere he runs the race;
He learns life's wisdom ere he knows life's care,
And, without labor vanquished, smiles the grace.
Great is the man, I grant, whose strength of mind,
Self-shapes its objects and subdues the fates
Virtue subdues the fates, but cannot blind
The fickle happiness, whose smile awaits
Those who scarce seek it; nor can courage earn
What the grace showers not from her own free urn!
From aught unworthy, the determined ...

Friedrich Schiller

The Eleusinian Festival.

Wreathe in a garland the corn's golden ear!
With it, the Cyane [31] blue intertwine
Rapture must render each glance bright and clear,
For the great queen is approaching her shrine,
She who compels lawless passions to cease,
Who to link man with his fellow has come,
And into firm habitations of peace
Changed the rude tents' ever-wandering home.

Shyly in the mountain-cleft
Was the Troglodyte concealed;
And the roving Nomad left,
Desert lying, each broad field.
With the javelin, with the bow,
Strode the hunter through the land;
To the hapless stranger woe,
Billow-cast on that wild strand!

When, in her sad wanderings lost,
Seeking traces of her child,
Ceres hailed the dreary coast,
Ah, no verdant plain then smiled!
That she here wit...

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The Triumph Of Love. A Hymn.

By love are blest the gods on high,
Frail man becomes a deity
When love to him is given;
'Tis love that makes the heavens shine
With hues more radiant, more divine,
And turns dull earth to heaven!

In Pyrrha's rear (so poets sang
In ages past and gone),
The world from rocky fragments sprang
Mankind from lifeless stone.

Their soul was but a thing of night,
Like stone and rock their heart;
The flaming torch of heaven so bright
Its glow could ne'er impart.

Young loves, all gently hovering round,
Their souls as yet had never bound
In soft and rosy chains;
No feeling muse had sought to raise
Their bosoms with ennobling lays,
Or sweet, harmonious strains.

Around each other lovingly
No garlands then entwined;
The s...

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Pompeii And Herculaneum.

What wonder this? we ask the lympid well,
O earth! of thee and from thy solemn womb
What yieldest thou? is there life in the abyss
Doth a new race beneath the lava dwell?
Returns the past, awakening from the tomb?
Rome Greece! Oh, come! Behold behold! for this!
Our living world the old Pompeii sees;
And built anew the town of Dorian Hercules!
House upon house its silent halls once more
Opes the broad portico! Oh, haste and fill
Again those halls with life! Oh, pour along
Through the seven-vista'd theatre the throng!
Where are ye, mimes? Come forth, the steel prepare
For crowned Atrides, or Orestes haunt,
Ye choral Furies, with your dismal chant!
The arch of triumph! whither leads it? still
Behold the forum! on the curule chair
Where the majestic image? Li...

Friedrich Schiller