And whereWhere is You have not told me all. CAPTAIN (after a pause). This morning We buried him. Twelve youths of noblest birth Did bear him to interment; the whole army Follow'd the bier. A laurel deck'd his coffin; The sword of the deceased was placed upon it, In mark of honor, by the Rhinegrave's self. Nor tears were wanting; for there are among us Many, who had themselves experienced The greatness of his mind, and gentle manners; All were affected at his fate. The Rhinegrave Would willingly have saved him; but himself Made vain the attempt-'t is said he wish'd to die. NEUBRUNN (to THEKLA, who has hidden her coun tenance). Look up, my dearest lady THEKLA. CAPTAIN. SCENE V. THEKLA, LADY NEUBRUNN. THEKLA (falls on LADY NEUBRUNN's neck). Now, gentle Neubrunn, show me the affection Which thou hast ever promised-prove thyself My own true friend and faithful fellow-pilgrim. This night we must away! Is now the only place, Where is his grave? Come and make preparations: let us think [THEKLA steps to the table, and takes a ring from Under the hoofs of his war-horses? a casket. NEUBRUNN. Heaven! And then the many posts of the enemy! THEKLA. They are human beings. Misery travels free Through the whole earth. She will shed tears. The pang will soften. COUNTESS. I find thee alter'd too, My brother! After such a victory To a deep quiet, such as he has found, WALLENSTEIN. Be quiet. I ail nothing. Where's * The soliloquy of Thekla consists in the original of six-andtwenty lines, twenty of which are in rhymes of irregular recurrence. I thought it prudent to abridge it. Indeed the whole scene between Thekla and Lady Neubrunn might, perhaps, have been omitted without injury to the play. COUNTESS. At a banquet-he and Illo. WALLENSTEIN (rises and strides across the saloon). The night's far spent. Betake thee to thy chamber. COUNTESS. Bid me not go, O let me stay with thee! WALLENSTEIN (moves to the window). There is a busy motion in the Heaven, The wind doth chase the flag upon the tower, Fast sweep the clouds, the sickle of the moon, Struggling, darts snatches of uncertain light. No form of star is visible! That one WALLENSTEIN. White stain of light, that single glimmering yonder, This anguish will be wearied down,* I know ; Is from Cassiopeia, and therein Is Jupiter. (A pause). But now The blackness of the troubled element hides him! [He sinks into profound melancholy, and looks vacantly into the distance. COUNTESS (looks on him mournfully, then grasps his hand). What pang is permanent with man? From the highest, COUNTESS. O be not treacherous to thy own power. WALLENSTEIN (stepping to the door). Who interrupts us now at this late hour? COUNTESS. O'tis so hard to me this night to leave theeA boding fear possesses me! WALLENSTEIN. Fear? Wherefore?' WALLENSTEIN. He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finish'd! His life is bright-bright without spot it was, No more submitted to the change and chance With him! but who knows what the coming hour • These four lines are expressed in the original with exquisite felicity. Am Himmel ist geschaftige Bewegung, Des Thurmes Fahne jagt der Wind, schnell geht Der Wolken Zug, die Mondes-Sichel wankt, Und durch die Nacht zuckt ungewisse Helle. The word "moon-sickle," reminds me of a passage in Har ris, as quoted by Johnson, under the word "falcated." "The enlightened part of the moon appears in the form of a sickle or reaping book, which is while she is moving from the conjunction to the opposition, or from the new-moon to the full: but from full to a new again, the enlightened part appears gibbous, and the dark falcated." The words "wanken" and "schweben" are not easily translated. The English words, by which we attempt to render them, are either vulgar or pedantic, or not of sufficiently general application. So der Wolken Zug"-The Draft, the Procession of clouds.-The Masses of the Clouds sweep onward in swift stream. COUNTESS. Shouldst thou depart this night, and we at waking Never more find thee! WALLENSTEIN. Fancies! COUNTESS. O my soul Has long been weigh'd down by these dark forebodings. WALLENSTEIN. This was a dream of favorable omen, COUNTESS. To-day I dreamt that I was seeking thee * A very inadequate translation of the original. Verschmerzen werd' ich diesen Schlag, das weiss ich, Denn was verschmerzte nicht der Mensch! LITERALLY. I shall grieve down this blow, of that I'm conscious: What does not man grieve down? And where it is thy will that thou shouldst be WALLENSTEIN. Thy soul is busy with these thoughts. COUNTESS. What! dost thou not believe that oft in dreams WALLENSTEIN. There is no doubt that there exist such voices. Voices of warning that announce to us Ere it is risen, sometimes paints its image COUNTESS. And to thee The voice within thy soul bodes nothing? WALLENSTEIN. Be wholly tranquil. COUNTESS. And another time Well, it has lasted long enough. Here-give it. Nothing. From superstition, if you will. Belike, I hasten'd after thee, and thou rann'st from me Grasp'd from behind-the hand was cold, that "Twas thou, and thou didst kiss me, and there seem'd A crimson covering to envelop us. WALLENSTEIN. That is the crimson tapestry of my chamber. If it should come to that-if I should see thee, And while I wore it on my neck in faith, GROOM OF THE CHAMBER retires with the vest- How the old time returns upon me! I Was ever good; but thou wert wont to play [She falls on his breast and weeps. That I strove after things too high for me, WALLENSTEIN. The Emperor's proclamation weighs upon thee- COUNTESS. If he should find them, my resolve is taken- [Exit COUNTESS. SCENE II. WALLENSTEIN. All quiet in the town? GORDON. The town is quiet. Giving my faith to bold unlawful dreams, -Thy wisdom hath been proved a thriftless friend That my munificent stars will intervene) GORDON. My Prince! WALLENSTEIN. Art thou already In harbor then, old man? Well! I am not. The unconquer'd spirit drives me o'er life's billows; Who now persists in calling Fortune false? And yet remember I the good old proverb, WALLENSTEIN (smiling). I hear the very Gordon that of old Come and see! trust thine own eyes! A fearful sign stands in the house of life- Was wont to preach to me, now once more preaching; Deliver not thyself up to these heathens, I know well, that all sublunary things Are still the vassals of vicissitude. The unpropitious gods demand their tribute. And therefore of their own accord they offer'd The jealousy of their divinities: And human sacrifices bled to Typhon. [After a pause, serious, and in a more subdued manner. I too have sacrificed to him-For me The envy of my destiny is glutted: Life pays for life. On his pure head the lightning Was drawn off which would else have shatter'd me. SCENE III. To these enter SENI. WALLENSTEIN. Is not that Seni ? and beside himself, terest. If one may trust his looks? What brings thee hither But what if the arrival of these Swedes GORDON (with difficulty suppressing his emotion). At this late hour, Baptista? What if this were the very thing that wing'd The ruin that is flying to your temples? [Flings himself at his feet. There is yet time, my Prince. SENI. O hear him! hear him! |