Читать книгу The Greatest German Classics (Vol. 1-14) - Various - Страница 352

No, no! such bloody proofs are not requir'd.

Unhand thy weapon, king! my lot consider;

Rash combat oft immortalizes man;

If he should fall, he is renown'd in song;

But after ages reckon not the tears

Which ceaseless the forsaken woman sheds;

And poets tell not of the thousand nights

Consum'd in weeping, and the dreary days,

Wherein her anguish'd soul, a prey to grief,

Doth vainly yearn to call her lov'd one back.

Fear warn'd me to beware lest robbers' wiles

Might lure me from this sanctuary, and then

Betray me into bondage. Anxiously

I question'd them, each circumstance explor'd,

Demanded proofs, now is my heart assur'd.

See here, the mark on his right hand impress'd

As of three stars, which on his natal day

Were by the priest declar'd to indicate

Some dreadful deed therewith to be perform'd.

And then this scar, which doth his eyebrow cleave,

Redoubles my conviction. When a child,

Electra, rash and inconsiderate,

Such was her nature, loos'd him from her arms,

He fell against a tripos. Oh, 'tis he!—

Shall I adduce the likeness to his sire,

Or the deep rapture of my inmost heart,

In further token of assurance, king?