Translations. - Friend And Foe. (From Schiller.)

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.



Dear is my friend, but my foe too
Is friendly to my good;
My friend the thing shows I can do,
My foe, the thing I should.

George MacDonald

George MacDonald (1824–1905) was a Scottish author, poet, and Christian minister best known for his fairy tales and fantasy novels. He was a pioneer in the fantasy genre, influencing notable writers such as C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien. His major works include "Phantastes" and "Lilith," as well as numerous poems and other literary works. MacDonald's writings are characterized by their imaginative qualities and deep spiritual insight.

George MacDonald

Song Of The Saints And Angels

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Translations. - A Song Of Praise. (Luther's Song-Book.)

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

The Holy Snowdrops.

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

Dejection

George MacDonald, Simple Poetry

English

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Translations. - Knowledge. (From Schiller.)

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.


To this man, 'tis a goddess tall,
Who lifts a star-encircled head;
To that, a fine cow in a stall,
Which gives him butter to his bread.

George MacDonald

Friend And Foe.

Dearly I love a friend; yet a foe I may turn to my profit;
Friends show me that which I can; foes teach me that which I should.

Friedrich Schiller

Translations. - My Faith. (From Schiller.)

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.



Which religion I profess?
None of which you mention make.
Wherefore so?--And can't you guess?
For Religion's sake.

George MacDonald

Translations. - Expectation And Fulfilment. (From Schiller.)

In these epigrams I have altered the form, which in the original is the elegiac distich.



Thousand-masted, mighty float,
Out to sea Youth's navy goes:
Silent, in his one saved boat,
Age into the harbour rows.

George MacDonald

Translations. - Part I. Sonnet Lix. (From Petrarch.)

I am so weary with the burden old
Of foregone faults, and power of custom base,
That much I fear to perish from the ways,
And fall into my enemy's grim fold.
True, a high friend, to free me, not with gold,
Came, of ineffable and utmost grace--
Then straightway vanished from before my face,
So that in vain I strive him to behold.
But his voice yet comes echoing below:
O ye that labour, the way open lies!
Come unto me lest some one shut the gate!
--What heavenly grace--what love will--or what fate--
The pinions of a dove on me bestow
That I may rest, and from the earth arise?

George MacDonald

Translations. - Poems. (From Goethe.)

Poems are painted window-panes:
Look from the square into the church--
Gloom and dusk are all your gains!
Sir Philistine is left in the lurch:
Outside he stands--spies nothing or use of it,
And nought is left him save the abuse of it.

But you, I pray you, just step in;
Make in the chapel your obeisance:
All at once 'tis a radiant pleasaunce:
Device and story flash to presence;
A gracious splendour works to win.
This to God's children is full measure:
It edifies and gives them pleasure.

George MacDonald