Читать книгу The Maid of Orleans - Фридрих Шиллер, Friedrich von Schiller - Страница 12

   Is, then, the sceptre such a peerless treasure?

   Is it so hard to loose it from our grasp?

   Believe me, 'tis more galling to endure

   The domineering rule of these proud vassals.

   To be dependent on their will and pleasure

   Is, to a noble heart, more bitter far

   Than to submit to fate.

                Duchatel, go,

   And do what I commanded.

                 Oh, my king!

   No more! Thou'st heard my absolute resolve!

   Sire, with the Duke of Burgundy make peace!

   'Tis the sole outlet from destruction left!

   Thou giv'st this counsel, and thy blood alone

   Can ratify this peace.

               Here is my head.

   I oft have risked it for thee in the fight,

   And with a joyful spirit I, for thee,

   Would lay it down upon the block of death.

   Conciliate the duke! Deliver me

   To the full measure of his wrath, and let

   My flowing blood appease the ancient hate.

   Can it be true? Am I, then, sunk so low,

   That even friends, who read my inmost heart,

   Point out for my escape the path of shame?

   Yes, now I recognize my abject fall.

   My honor is no more confided in.

   Reflect —

         Be silent, and incense me not!

   Had I ten realms, on which to turn my back,

   With my friend's life I would not purchase them.

   Do what I have commanded. Hence, and see

   My equipage embarked.

               'Twill speedily

   Be done.