[First published in Schiller's Horen, in connection with a friendly contest in the art of ballad-writing between the two great poets, to which many of their finest works are owing.]
ONCE a stranger youth to Corinth came,Who in Athens lived, but hoped that he From a certain townsman there might claim,As his father's friend, kind courtesy.
Son and daughter, theyHad been wont to sayShould thereafter bride and bridegroom be.
But can he that boon so highly prized,Save tis dearly bought, now hope to get?
They are Christians and have been baptized,He and all of his are heathens yet.
For a newborn creed,Like some loathsome weed,Love and truth to root out oft will threat.
Father, daughter, all had gone to rest,And the mother only watches late;She receives with courtesy the guest,And conducts him to the room of state.
Wine and food are brought,Ere by him besought;Bidding him good night. she leaves him straight.
But he feels no relish now, in truth,For the dainties so profusely spread;Meat and drink forgets the wearied youth,And, still dress'd, he lays him on the bed.
Scarce are closed his eyes,When a form in-hiesThrough the open door with silent tread.
By his glimmering lamp discerns he nowHow, in veil and garment white array'd, With a black and gold band round her brow,Glides into the room a bashful maid.
But she, at his sight,Lifts her hand so white,And appears as though full sore afraid.
"Am I," cries she, "such a stranger here,That the guest's approach they could not name?
Ah, they keep me in my cloister drear,Well nigh feel I vanquish'd by my shame.
On thy soft couch nowSlumber calmly thou!
I'll return as swiftly as I came."
"Stay, thou fairest maiden!" cries the boy,Starting from his couch with eager haste:
"Here are Ceres', Bacchus' gifts of joy;
Amor bringest thou, with beauty grac'd!
Thou art pale with fear!
Loved one let us hereProve the raptures the Immortals taste.""Draw not nigh, O Youth! afar remain!
Rapture now can never smile on me;
For the fatal step, alas! is ta'en,Through my mother's sick-bed phantasy.
Cured, she made this oath:
'Youth and nature bothShall henceforth to Heav'n devoted be.'
"From the house, so silent now, are drivenAll the gods who reign'd supreme of yore;One Invisible now rules in heaven,On the cross a Saviour they adore.
Victims slay they here,Neither lamb nor steer, But the altars reek with human gore."And he lists, and ev'ry word he weighs,While his eager soul drinks in each sound:
"Can it be that now before my gazeStands my loved one on this silent ground?
Pledge to me thy troth!
Through our father's oath:
With Heav'ns blessing will our love be crown'd.""Kindly youth, I never can be thine!
'Tis my sister they intend for thee.
When I in the silent cloister pine,Ah, within her arms remember me!
Thee alone I love,While love's pangs I prove;Soon the earth will veil my misery."
"No! for by this glowing flame I swear,Hymen hath himself propitious shown:
Let us to my fathers house repair,And thoult find that joy is not yet flown,Sweetest, here then stay,And without delayHold we now our wedding feast alone!"Then exchange they tokens of their truth;She gives him a golden chain to wear, And a silver chalice would the youthGive her in return of beauty rare.
"That is not for me;
Yet I beg of thee, One lock only give me of thy hair."Now the ghostly hour of midnight knell'd,And she seem'd right joyous at the sign;To her pallid lips the cup she held,But she drank of nought but blood-red wine.
