Now hearken, ye who take delight In boasting of your worth! To many a man, to many a knight, Beloved in peace and brave in fight, The Swabian land gives birth.
I, too, at length discerned great Hercules' energy mighty, Saw his shade. He himself was not, alas, to be seen. Round him were heard, like the screaming of birds, the screams of tragedians,...
A mighty oak here ruined lies, Its top was wont to kiss the skies, Why is it now o'erthrown? The peasants needed, so they said, Its wood wherewith to build a shed, And so they've cut it down.
[In spite of Mr. Carlyle's assertion of Schiller's "total deficiency in humor," [12] we think that the following poem suffices to show that he possessed the gift in no ordinary degree, and that if the aims of a genius so essent...
Whither was it that my spirit wended When from thee my fleeting shadow moved? Is not now each earthly conflict ended? Say, have I not lived, have I not loved?
Oh, nobly shone the fearful cross upon your mail afar, When Rhodes and Acre hailed your might, O lions of the war! When leading many a pilgrim horde, through wastes of Syrian gloom;...
The clouds fast gather, The forest-oaks roar A maiden is sitting Beside the green shore, The billows are breaking with might, with might, And she sighs aloud in the darkling night,...
The foaming stream from out the rock With thunder roar begins to rush, The oak falls prostrate at the shock, And mountain-wrecks attend the gush. With rapturous awe, in wonder lost,...