A FUNERAL PHANTASY
by: Friedrich Schiller
(1759-1805)
- O! on high the moon, her lustre
dead,
- O'er the death-like grove uplifts her head,
- Sighing flits the spectre through the gloom--
- Misty clouds are shivering,
- Pallid stars are quivering,
- Looking down, like lamps within a tomb.
- Spirit-like, all silent, pale, and wan,
- Marshall'd in procession dark and sad,
- To the sepulchre a crowd moves on,
- In the grave-night's dismal emblems clad.
-
- Who is he, who, trembling on his crutch,
- Walks with gloomy and averted eye,
- And bow'd down by Destiny's hard touch,
- Vents his sorrow in a mournful sigh
- O'er the coffin borne in silence by?
- Was it "Father!" from the youth's lips came?
- Soon a damp and fearful shudder flies
- Through his grief-emaciated frame,
- And his silv'ry hairs on end uprise.
-
- All his fiery wounds now bleed anew!
- Through his soul, hell's bitter torments run!
- "Father!" 'twas that from the youth's lips flew,
- And the Father's heart hath whispered "Son!"
- Ice-cold, ice-cold, in his shroud he lies,--
- By thy dream, so sweet and golden erst,
- Sweet and golden, Father, thou art curst!
- Ice-cold, ice-cold, in his shroud he lies,
- Who was once thy joy, thy Paradise!
-
- Mild, as when, fann'd by Elysian gale,
- Flora's son over the verdant plain skips,
- Girded with roses that fragrance exhale,
- When from the arms of Aurora he slips,--
- Onward he sped o'er the sweet-smelling field,
- Mirror'd below in the silvery flood;
- Rapturous flames in his skies were conceal'd,
- Chasing the maidens in amorous mood.
-
- Boldly he sprang 'mid the stir of mankind,
- As o'er the mountains a youthful roe springs;
- Heav'nward ascended his wish unconfin'd,
- High as the eagle his daring flight wings.
- Proud as the steeds that in passion their manes,
- Foaming and champing, toss round in wild waves,
- Rearing in majesty under the reins,
- Stood he alike before monarchs and slaves.
-
- Bright as a spring-day, his life's joyous round
- Fleeted in Hesperus' glory away;
- Sighs in the grape's juice all-golden he drown'd,
- Sorrow he still'd in the dance light and gay.
- Worlds were asleep in the promising boy,
- Ha! when he once as a man shall be ripe,--
- Father, rejoice -- in thy promising boy,
- Soon as the slumbering germ shall be ripe!
-
- Not so, Father -- hark! the churchyard gates
- Groan, and lo, the iron hinges creak! --
- See the dreaded tomb its prey awaits! --
- Not so -- let the tears course down thy cheek!
- Tow'rd Perfection lov'd one, hasten on,
- In the sun's bright path with joy proceed!
- Quench thy noble thirst for bliss alone
- In Walhalla's peace, from sorrow freed!
-
- Ye will meet -- oh thought of rapture full! --
- Yonder, at the gate of Paradise!
- Hark! the coffin sinks with echo dull;
- As it re-ascends the death-rope sighs!
- Then, with sorrow drunk, we madly roll'd,
- Lips were silent, but the mute eye spoke --
- Stay, oh, stay! -- we grudg'd the tomb so cold;
- But soon warmer tears in torrents broke.
-
- Lo! on high the moon, her lustre dead,
- O'er the deathlike grove uplifts her head,
- Sighing flits the spectre through the gloom--
- Misty clouds are shivering,
- Pallid stars are quivering,
- Looking down like lamps within a tomb.
- Dully o'er the coffin earth-flakes rise, --
- All the wealth of earth for one looks more!
- Now the grave barr'd up for ever lies;
- Duller, duller o'er the coffin earth-flakes rise;
- Never will the grave its prey restore!
"A Funeral Phantasy" is
reprinted from The Poems of Schiller. Trans. Edgar A.
Bowring. New York: Hurst & Company, 1872. |
MORE POEMS BY FRIEDRICH SCHILLER |
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