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Read Ebook: Translations of German Poetry in American Magazines 1741-1810 by Davis Edward Ziegler
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Ebook has 1322 lines and 88778 words, and 27 pages
Thou illumest the solemn moon to guide us amid darkness; thou dost lend wings to the unseen wind, and by night thou dost enrich the earth with fruitful dews.
From the dust thou hast formed yon proud-topt mountain; from sand hast thou produced metals; thou hast spread yon firmament, and thou hast clothed it with clouds, that it may remain unpolluted by the exploring eye of man.
Thou hast wonderfully formed the veins of that fish which causes rivers to overflow, and which makes whirlpools, and spreads devastation with the flappings of his tail. Thou hast built the elephant, and thou hast animated its enormous bulk, that it resembles a moving mountain. Thou supportest yon splendid arches of the heavens upon the vast void; and with thy word thou hast produced from chaos this wondrous universe, filling it with order, and giving it no other limit than its grandeur.
Great God! created spirits are too insignificant to raise the glory of thy works! We lose ourselves in their immensity. To tell them one must resemble thyself on infinity. Humbly contented, I remain in my own prescribed circle. Incomprehensible Being! thy resplendent glories blind the presuming eye of man! and He from whom the earth receives its being, needs not the praises of a worm!
MORNING. From Haller.
TRANSLATED POETRY. For the New-York Magazine.
THE ZEPHYRS, AN IDYL. .
TRANSLATED POETRY. For the New-York Magazine.
FIRST IDYL OF GESNER.
DAPHNE--CHLOE.
FABLE Imitated from the German of Gellert.
While a nightingale chanted in the midst of a forest, the neighbouring hills and vallies were delighted with her exquisite melody. Every wild bird forgot to sing, listening with fond admiration. Aurora tarried behind the hill, attending to her musical cadences; and Philomel, in honor of the goddess, warbled with unusual sweetness. At that she paused, and the lark took the opportunity of thus addressing her; 'Your music meets with just approbation; the variety, the clearness, and tenderness of the notes are inimitable; nevertheless, in one circumstance I am entitled to a preference. My melody is uninterrupted; and every morning is ushered with my gratulations. Your song on the contrary, is heard but seldom; and, except during a few weeks in the Summer, you have no claim to peculiar attention.' 'You have mentioned,' replied the Nightingale, 'the very cause of my superior excellence. I attend to, and obey, the dictates of Nature. I never sing but by her incitements; nor even yield to importunate, but uninspired inclination.'
A FABLE Imitated from the German of Gellert.
Clarine loved her husband with sincere affection--for he was a husband to her mind. Their desires and aversions were the same. It was Clarine's study to be agreeable, and by unwearied attention, to anticipate her husband's wishes. "Such a wife," says my male reader, who has thoughts of matrimony, "such a wife would I desire."--And such a wife mayst thou obtain.--Clarine's husband fell sick--a dangerous illness.--"No hope" said the physician, and shook his awful whig. Bitterly wept Clarine. "O death!" she cried, "O death! might I prefer a petition? Spare my husband; let me be the victim in his stead." Death heard, appeared, and "What," said the grim spectre, "is thy request?" "There," said Clarine sore dismayed, "There he lies; overcome with agony he implores thy speedy relief."
THE LASS OF FAIR WONE. From the German of B?rger.
VIRTUE REWARDED: A PASTORAL TALE. .
THE WISH .
Once more could I wish, ere yet my blest spirit Sunk in Elysium, peaceful mansion of shades! That spot t' revisit, where Infancy In dreams aerial, play'd 'round my brows.
The shrub of my country, whose branches o'erspread The cool nest of the patridge, waves gentler my friend, Than all the gay forests of laurel O'er the dust of the world's mighty conq'rors.
The streamlet of that mead, where in childhood I cull'd early violets, more musically murmurs 'Midst the alders once rear'd by my sire, Than the silver Blandusian fountain.
The hill, on which swains, in bands youthful and gay Danc'd 'round the trunk of the sweet blossom'd poplar, With greater rapture inspir'd my heart, Than Alps dazzling heights in roset glimm'ring.
Therefore could I wish, ere yet my blest spirit Sunk in Elysium, peaceful mansion of shades That spot t' revisit, where infancy In dreams aerial, play'd 'round my brows.
Then may death's smirking genius, of a sudden, Extinguish life's taper, well pleas'd I'll hasten To Xenophon and Plato's musing shade And to Anacreon's myrtle tufted bow'r.
BENEVOLENCE. A FABLE. Imitated from the German of Gellert.
O'er Howard's tomb soft Pity weeps, Bewailing still her favourite's fate; And thence the Muse invokes her aid Of kindred merit to relate.
Like him to sympathize with woe, Like him to heal the broken mind; And rear Affliction's drooping head, Belinda's generous soul inclin'd.
But want of fortune oft, too oft, Her charitable views withstood; For what, alas! avails the will, Without the power of doing good?
Her uncle dies and leaves his niece A clear two thousand pounds per ann. "Ah! now," she cries, "I'm blest indeed, "I'll help the poor where'er I can."
Scarce had she spoke, when, at her door An old decrepid wretch appears; Bent on his crutch he begs an alms, And moves her pity with his tears.
Belinda felt for his distress, She heav'd a sigh and shook her head; Then to this aged son of woe Stretch'd forth a--crust of mouldy bread.
PRO PATRIA MORI From the German of B?rger.
For virtue, freedom, human rights, to fall, Beseems the brave: it is a Saviour's death. Of heroes only the most pure of all, Thus with their heart's blood tinge the battle-heath.
And this proud death is seemliest in the man Who for a kindred race, a country bleeds: Three hundred Spartans from the shining van Of those, whom fame in this high triumph leads.
Great is the death for a good prince incurr'd; Who wields the sceptre with benignant hand: Well may for him the noble bare his sword, Falling he earns the blessings of a land.
Death for a friend, parent, child, or her we love, If not so great, is beauteous to behold: This the fine tumults of the hearts approve; It is the walk to death unbought of gold.
But for mere majesty to meet a wound-- Who holds that great or glorious, he mistakes: That is the fury of the pamper'd hound, Which envy, anger, or the whip, awakes.
THE LASS OF FAIR WONE. From the German of B?rger.
THE BROKEN PITCHER. From the German of Gesner.
LEONORA. . A Ballad from B?rger.
The following translation of a celebrated piece, of which other versions have appeared, and are now on the point of appearing, possesses so much peculiar charm and intrinsic merit, that we are happy in being permitted to present it to our readers.
TO A LITTLE CHARMER. From the German of Lessing.
Come kiss me, little Charmer, Nor suppose a kiss can harm you; Kisses given, kisses taken, Cannot now your fears awaken; Give me then a hundred kisses Number well those sweetest blisses, And, on my life, I tell you true, Tenfold I'll repay what's due, When to snatch a kiss is bolder And my fair one's ten years older.
For the Weekly Magazine.
THE SWALLOW. A FABLE.
Believe me, my friend, the great world is not suited to philosophers or poets. We are insensible to their real worth; and they, alas! are often weak enough to exchange it for a mere nothing.
In early ages the swallow was as tuneful and melodious a bird as the nightingale; but she soon became weary of residing in solitary groves to excite the admiration of none but the industrious peasant and the innocent shepherdess. She left her humble friends, and removed into town. What was the consequence? As the inhabitants of the city had not leisure to attend to her divine song, she gradually forgot it, and in its stead learned to--build.
THE ERL-KING.
Who is it that rides through the forest so fast, While night frowns around him, while chill roars the blast? The father, who holds his young son in his arm, And close in his mantle has wrapped him up warm.
--"Why trembles my darling? Why shrinks he with fear?" "Oh father! my father! the Erl-king is near! The Erl-king, with his crown and his beard long and white!" --"Oh! thine eyes are deceived by the vapours of night."
--"If you will, dear baby, with me go away, I will give you fine clothes; we will play a fine play; Fine flowers are growing, white, scarlet and blue, On the banks of yon river, and all are for you."
--"Oh father! my father! and dost thou not hear What words the Erl-king whispers low in mine ear?"-- --"Now hush thee, my darling, thy terrors appease: Thou hear'st 'midst the branches when murmurs the breeze."
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