Читать книгу The Poems of Schiller — Second period - Фридрих Шиллер, Friedrich von Schiller - Страница 3

    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 glory swept the fields of heaven!

   On yonder hill the Oread was adored,

    In yonder tree the Dryad held her home;

   And from her urn the gentle Naiad poured

    The wavelet's silver foam.

   Yon bay, chaste Daphne wreathed,

    Yon stone was mournful Niobe's mute cell,

   Low through yon sedges pastoral Syrinx breathed,

    And through those groves wailed the sweet Philomel,

   The tears of Ceres swelled in yonder rill —

    Tears shed for Proserpine to Hades borne;

   And, for her lost Adonis, yonder hill

    Heard Cytherea mourn! —

   Heaven's shapes were charmed unto

    The mortal race of old Deucalion;

   Pyrrha's fair daughter, humanly to woo,

    Came down, in shepherd-guise, Latona's son

   Between men, heroes, gods, harmonious then

    Love wove sweet links and sympathies divine;

   Blest Amathusia, heroes, gods, and men,

    Equals before thy shrine!

   Not to that culture gay,

    Stern self-denial, or sharp penance wan!

   Well might each heart be happy in that day —

    For gods, the happy ones, were kin to man!

   The beautiful alone the holy there!

    No pleasure shamed the gods of that young race;

   So that the chaste Camoenae favoring were,

    And the subduing grace!

   A palace every shrine;

    Your sports heroic; — yours the crown

   Of contests hallowed to a power divine,

    As rushed the chariots thundering to renown.

   Fair round the altar where the incense breathed,

    Moved your melodious dance inspired; and fair

   Above victorious brows, the garland wreathed

    Sweet leaves round odorous hair!

   The lively Thyrsus-swinger,

    And the wild car the exulting panthers bore,

   Announced the presence of the rapture-bringer —

    Bounded the Satyr and blithe Faun before;

   And Maenads, as the frenzy stung the soul,