The Babbler Of Art.

Dost thou desire the good in art? Of the good art thou worthy,
Which by a ne'er ceasing war 'gainst thee thyself is produced?

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 Peculiar Ideal.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Law Of Nature.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Father.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

The Triumph Of Love. A Hymn.

Friedrich Schiller, Simple Poetry

English

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The Artifice.

Wouldst thou give pleasure at once to the children of earth and the righteous?
Draw the image of lust adding the devil as well!

Friedrich Schiller

Archimedes.

To Archimedes once a scholar came,
"Teach me," he said, "the art that won thy fame;
The godlike art which gives such boons to toil,
And showers such fruit upon thy native soil;
The godlike art that girt the town when all
Rome's vengeance burst in thunder on the wall!"
"Thou call'st art godlike it is so, in truth,
And was," replied the master to the youth,
"Ere yet its secrets were applied to use
Ere yet it served beleaguered Syracuse:
Ask'st thou from art, but what the art is worth?
The fruit? for fruit go cultivate the earth.
He who the goddess would aspire unto,
Must not the goddess as the woman woo!"

Friedrich Schiller

Genius.

"Do I believe," sayest thou, "what the masters of wisdom would teach me,
And what their followers' band boldly and readily swear?
Cannot I ever attain to true peace, excepting through knowledge,
Or is the system upheld only by fortune and law?
Must I distrust the gently-warning impulse, the precept
That thou, Nature, thyself hast in my bosom impressed,
Till the schools have affixed to the writ eternal their signet,
Till a mere formula's chain binds down the fugitive soul?
Answer me, then! for thou hast down into these deeps e'en descended,
Out of the mouldering grave thou didst uninjured return.
Is't to thee known what within the tomb of obscure works is hidden,
Whether, yon mummies amid, life's consolations can dwell?
Must I travel the darksome road? The thought makes me tremble...

Friedrich Schiller

The Moral Poet.

Man is in truth a poor creature, I know it, and fain would forget it;
Therefore (how sorry I am!) came I, alas, unto thee!

Friedrich Schiller

Worth And The Worthy.

If thou anything hast, let me have it, I'll pay what is proper;
If thou anything art, let us our spirits exchange.

Friedrich Schiller

To Goethe, On His Producing Voltaire's "Mahomet" On The Stage.

Thou, by whom, freed from rules constrained and wrong,
On truth and nature once again we're placed,
Who, in the cradle e'en a hero strong,
Stiffest the serpents round our genius laced,
Thou whom the godlike science has so long
With her unsullied sacred fillet graced,
Dost thou on ruined altars sacrifice
To that false muse whom we no longer prize?

This theatre belongs to native art,
No foreign idols worshipped here are seen;
A laurel we can show, with joyous heart,
That on the German Pindus has grown green
The sciences' most holy, hidden part
The German genius dares to enter e'en,
And, following the Briton and the Greek,
A nobler glory now attempts to seek.

For yonder, where slaves kneel, and despots hold
The reins, where spurious greatness lif...

Friedrich Schiller