    Project Gutenberg's Poems of The Second Period, by Friedrich Schiller

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
    almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

    Title: Poems of The Second Period

    Author: Friedrich Schiller

    Release Date: October 26, 2006 [EBook #6795]
    Last Updated: November 6, 2012

    Language: English

    Character set encoding: ASCII

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF THE SECOND PERIOD ***

    Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger

# SCHILLER'S POEMS

## By Friedrich Schiller

## POEMS OF THE SECOND PERIOD.

## CONTENTS

## HYMN TO JOY.

> > > >        Joy, thou goddess, fair, immortal,
> > > >         Offspring of Elysium,
> > > >        Mad with rapture, to the portal
> > > >         Of thy holy fame we come!
> > > >        Fashion's laws, indeed, may sever,
> > > >         But thy magic joins again;
> > > >        All mankind are brethren ever
> > > >         'Neath thy mild and gentle reign.

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        Welcome, all ye myriad creatures!
> > > >         Brethren, take the kiss of love!
> > > >         Yes, the starry realms above
> > > >        Hide a Father's smiling features!

> > > >        He, that noble prize possessing—
> > > >         He that boasts a friend that's true,
> > > >        He whom woman's love is blessing,
> > > >         Let him join the chorus too!
> > > >        Aye, and he who but one spirit
> > > >         On this earth can call his own!
> > > >        He who no such bliss can merit,
> > > >         Let him mourn his fate alone!

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        All who Nature's tribes are swelling
> > > >         Homage pay to sympathy;
> > > >         For she guides us up on high,
> > > >        Where the unknown has his dwelling.

> > > >        From the breasts of kindly Nature
> > > >         All of joy imbibe the dew;
> > > >        Good and bad alike, each creature
> > > >         Would her roseate path pursue.
> > > >        'Tis through her the wine-cup maddens,
> > > >         Love and friends to man she gives!
> > > >        Bliss the meanest reptile gladdens,—
> > > >         Near God's throne the cherub lives!

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        Bow before him, all creation!
> > > >         Mortals, own the God of love!
> > > >         Seek him high the stars above,—
> > > >        Yonder is his habitation!

> > > >        Joy, in Nature's wide dominion,
> > > >         Mightiest cause of all is found;
> > > >        And 'tis joy that moves the pinion,
> > > >         When the wheel of time goes round;
> > > >        From the bud she lures the flower—
> > > >         Suns from out their orbs of light;
> > > >        Distant spheres obey her power,
> > > >         Far beyond all mortal sight.

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        As through heaven's expanse so glorious
> > > >         In their orbits suns roll on,
> > > >         Brethren, thus your proud race run,
> > > >        Glad as warriors all-victorious!

> > > >        Joy from truth's own glass of fire
> > > >         Sweetly on the searcher smiles;
> > > >        Lest on virtue's steeps he tire,
> > > >         Joy the tedious path beguiles.
> > > >        High on faith's bright hill before us,
> > > >         See her banner proudly wave!
> > > >        Joy, too, swells the angels' chorus,—
> > > >         Bursts the bondage of the grave!

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        Mortals, meekly wait for heaven
> > > >         Suffer on in patient love!
> > > >         In the starry realms above,
> > > >        Bright rewards by God are given.

> > > >        To the Gods we ne'er can render
> > > >         Praise for every good they grant;
> > > >        Let us, with devotion tender,
> > > >         Minister to grief and want.
> > > >        Quenched be hate and wrath forever,
> > > >         Pardoned be our mortal foe—
> > > >        May our tears upbraid him never,
> > > >         No repentance bring him low!

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        Sense of wrongs forget to treasure—
> > > >         Brethren, live in perfect love!
> > > >         In the starry realms above,
> > > >        God will mete as we may measure.

> > > >        Joy within the goblet flushes,
> > > >         For the golden nectar, wine,
> > > >        Every fierce emotion hushes,—
> > > >         Fills the breast with fire divine.
> > > >        Brethren, thus in rapture meeting,
> > > >         Send ye round the brimming cup,—
> > > >        Yonder kindly spirit greeting,
> > > >         While the foam to heaven mounts up!

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        He whom seraphs worship ever;
> > > >         Whom the stars praise as they roll,
> > > >         Yes to him now drain the bowl
> > > >        Mortal eye can see him never!

> > > >        Courage, ne'er by sorrow broken!
> > > >         Aid where tears of virtue flow;
> > > >        Faith to keep each promise spoken!
> > > >         Truth alike to friend and foe!
> > > >        'Neath kings' frowns a manly spirit!—
> > > >         Brethren, noble is the prize—
> > > >        Honor due to every merit!
> > > >         Death to all the brood of lies!

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        Draw the sacred circle closer!
> > > >         By this bright wine plight your troth
> > > >         To be faithful to your oath!
> > > >        Swear it by the Star-Disposer!

> > > >        Safety from the tyrant's power! 9
> > > >         Mercy e'en to traitors base!
> > > >        Hope in death's last solemn hour!
> > > >         Pardon when before His face!
> > > >        Lo, the dead shall rise to heaven!
> > > >         Brethren hail the blest decree;
> > > >        Every sin shall be forgiven,
> > > >         Hell forever cease to be!

> > > >             CHORUS.
> > > >        When the golden bowl is broken,
> > > >         Gentle sleep within the tomb!
> > > >         Brethren, may a gracious doom
> > > >        By the Judge of man be spoken!

## THE INVINCIBLE ARMADA.

       She comes, she comes—the burden of the deeps!
        Beneath her wails the universal sea!
       With clanking chains and a new god, she sweeps,
        And with a thousand thunders, unto thee!
       The ocean-castles and the floating hosts—
        Ne'er on their like looked the wild water!—Well
        May man the monster name "Invincible."
       O'er shuddering waves she gathers to thy coasts!
        The horror that she spreads can claim
        Just title to her haughty name.
       The trembling Neptune quails
        Under the silent and majestic forms;
       The doom of worlds in those dark sails;—
        Near and more near they sweep! and slumber all the storms!

        Before thee, the array,
       Blest island, empress of the sea!
       The sea-born squadrons threaten thee,
        And thy great heart, Britannia!
       Woe to thy people, of their freedom proud—
       She rests, a thunder heavy in its cloud!
       Who, to thy hand the orb and sceptre gave,
        That thou should'st be the sovereign of the nations?
       To tyrant kings thou wert thyself the slave,
        Till freedom dug from law its deep foundations;
       The mighty Chart the citizens made kings,
         And kings to citizens sublimely bowed!
        And thou thyself, upon thy realm of water,
        Hast thou not rendered millions up to slaughter,
       When thy ships brought upon their sailing wings
         The sceptre—and the shroud?
       What should'st thou thank?—Blush, earth, to hear and feel
       What should'st thou thank?—Thy genius and thy steel!
       Behold the hidden and the giant fires!
        Behold thy glory trembling to its fall!
        Thy coming doom the round earth shall appal,
       And all the hearts of freemen beat for thee,
       And all free souls their fate in thine foresee—
        Theirs is thy glory's fall!

       One look below the Almighty gave,
        Where streamed the lion-flags of thy proud foe;
       And near and wider yawned the horrent grave.
        "And who," saith He, "shall lay mine England low—
       The stem that blooms with hero-deeds—
       The rock when man from wrong a refuge needs—
        The stronghold where the tyrant comes in vain?
        Who shall bid England vanish from the main?
       Ne'er be this only Eden freedom knew,
        Man's stout defence from power, to fate consigned."
       God the Almighty blew,
        And the Armada went to every wind!

## THE GODS OF GREECE.

        Ye in the age gone by,
       Who ruled the world—a world how lovely then!—
       And guided still the steps of happy men
        In the light leading-strings of careless joy!
       Ah, flourished then your service of delight!
        How different, oh, how different, in the day
       When thy sweet fanes with many a wreath were bright,
        O Venus Amathusia!

       Then, through a veil of dreams
        Woven by song, truth's youthful beauty glowed,
       And life's redundant and rejoicing streams
        Gave to the soulless, soul—where'r they flowed
       Man gifted nature with divinity
        To lift and link her to the breast of love;
       All things betrayed to the initiate eye
        The track of gods above!

       Where lifeless—fixed afar,
        A flaming ball to our dull sense is given,
       Phoebus Apollo, in his golden car,
        In silent glory swept the fields of heaven!
       On yonder hill the Oread was adored,
        In yonder tree the Dryad held her home;
       And from her urn the gentle Naiad poured
        The wavelet's silver foam.

       Yon bay, chaste Daphne wreathed,
        Yon stone was mournful Niobe's mute cell,
       Low through yon sedges pastoral Syrinx breathed,
        And through those groves wailed the sweet Philomel,
       The tears of Ceres swelled in yonder rill—
        Tears shed for Proserpine to Hades borne;
       And, for her lost Adonis, yonder hill
        Heard Cytherea mourn!—

       Heaven's shapes were charmed unto
        The mortal race of old Deucalion;
       Pyrrha's fair daughter, humanly to woo,
        Came down, in shepherd-guise, Latona's son
       Between men, heroes, gods, harmonious then
        Love wove sweet links and sympathies divine;
       Blest Amathusia, heroes, gods, and men,
        Equals before thy shrine!

       Not to that culture gay,
        Stern self-denial, or sharp penance wan!
       Well might each heart be happy in that day—
        For gods, the happy ones, were kin to man!
       The beautiful alone the holy there!
        No pleasure shamed the gods of that young race;
       So that the chaste Camoenae favoring were,
        And the subduing grace!

       A palace every shrine;
        Your sports heroic;—yours the crown
       Of contests hallowed to a power divine,
        As rushed the chariots thundering to renown.
       Fair round the altar where the incense breathed,
        Moved your melodious dance inspired; and fair
       Above victorious brows, the garland wreathed
        Sweet leaves round odorous hair!

       The lively Thyrsus-swinger,
        And the wild car the exulting panthers bore,
       Announced the presence of the rapture-bringer—
        Bounded the Satyr and blithe Faun before;
       And Maenads, as the frenzy stung the soul,
        Hymned in their maddening dance, the glorious wine—
       As ever beckoned to the lusty bowl
        The ruddy host divine!

       Before the bed of death
        No ghastly spectre stood—but from the porch
       Of life, the lip—one kiss inhaled the breath,
        And the mute graceful genius lowered a torch.
       The judgment-balance of the realms below,
        A judge, himself of mortal lineage, held;
       The very furies at the Thracian's woe,
        Were moved and music-spelled.

       In the Elysian grove
        The shades renewed the pleasures life held dear:
       The faithful spouse rejoined remembered love,
        And rushed along the meads the charioteer;
       There Linus poured the old accustomed strain;
        Admetus there Alcestis still could greet; his
       Friend there once more Orestes could regain,
        His arrows—Philoctetes!

       More glorious than the meeds
        That in their strife with labor nerved the brave,
       To the great doer of renowned deeds
        The Hebe and the heaven the Thunderer gave.
       Before the rescued rescuer 10 of the dead,
        Bowed down the silent and immortal host;
       And the twain stars 11 their guiding lustre shed,
        On the bark tempest-tossed!

       Art thou, fair world, no more?
        Return, thou virgin-bloom on Nature's face;
       Ah, only on the minstrel's magic shore,
        Can we the footstep of sweet fable trace!
       The meadows mourn for the old hallowing life;
        Vainly we search the earth of gods bereft;
       Where once the warm and living shapes were rife,
        Shadows alone are left!

       Cold, from the north, has gone
        Over the flowers the blast that killed their May;
       And, to enrich the worship of the one,
        A universe of gods must pass away!
       Mourning, I search on yonder starry steeps,
        But thee no more, Selene, there I see!
       And through the woods I call, and o'er the deeps,
        And—Echo answers me!

       Deaf to the joys she gives—
        Blind to the pomp of which she is possessed—
       Unconscious of the spiritual power that lives
        Around, and rules her—by our bliss unblessed—
       Dull to the art that colors or creates,
        Like the dead timepiece, godless nature creeps
       Her plodding round, and, by the leaden weights,
        The slavish motion keeps.

       To-morrow to receive
        New life, she digs her proper grave to-day;
       And icy moons with weary sameness weave
        From their own light their fulness and decay.
       Home to the poet's land the gods are flown,
        Light use in them that later world discerns,
       Which, the diviner leading-strings outgrown,
        On its own axle turns.

       Home! and with them are gone
        The hues they gazed on and the tones they heard;
       Life's beauty and life's melody:—alone
        Broods o'er the desolate void, the lifeless word;
       Yet rescued from time's deluge, still they throng
        Unseen the Pindus they were wont to cherish:
       All, that which gains immortal life in song,
        To mortal life must perish!

## RESIGNATION.

       Yes! even I was in Arcadia born,
         And, in mine infant ears,
       A vow of rapture was by Nature sworn;—
       Yes! even I was in Arcadia born,
         And yet my short spring gave me only—tears!

       Once blooms, and only once, life's youthful May;
         For me its bloom hath gone.
       The silent God—O brethren, weep to-day—
       The silent God hath quenched my torch's ray,
         And the vain dream hath flown.

       Upon thy darksome bridge, Eternity,
         I stand e'en now, dread thought!
       Take, then, these joy-credentials back from me!
       Unopened I return them now to thee,
         Of happiness, alas, know naught!

       Before Thy throne my mournful cries I vent,
         Thou Judge, concealed from view!
       To yonder star a joyous saying went
       With judgment's scales to rule us thou art sent,
         And call'st thyself Requiter, too!

       Here,—say they,—terrors on the bad alight,
         And joys to greet the virtuous spring.
       The bosom's windings thou'lt expose to sight,
       Riddle of Providence wilt solve aright,
         And reckon with the suffering!

       Here to the exile be a home outspread,
         Here end the meek man's thorny path of strife!
       A godlike child, whose name was Truth, they said,
       Known but to few, from whom the many fled,
         Restrained the ardent bridle of my life.

       "It shall be thine another life to live,—
         Thy youth to me surrender!
       To thee this surety only can I give"—
       I took the surety in that life to live;
         And gave to her each youthful joy so tender.

       "Give me the woman precious to thy heart,
         Give up to me thy Laura!
       Beyond the grave will usury pay the smart."—
       I wept aloud, and from my bleeding heart
         With resignation tore her.

       "The obligation's drawn upon the dead!"
         Thus laughed the world in scorn;
       "The lying one, in league with despots dread,
       For truth, a phantom palmed on thee instead,
         Thou'lt be no more, when once this dream has gone!"

       Shamelessly scoffed the mockers' serpent-band
         "A dream that but prescription can admit
       Dost dread? Where now thy God's protecting hand,
       (The sick world's Saviour with such cunning planned),
         Borrowed by human need of human wit?"

       "What future is't that graves to us reveal?
         What the eternity of thy discourse?
       Honored because dark veils its form conceal,
       The giant-shadows of the awe we feel,
         Viewed in the hollow mirror of remorse!"

       "An image false of shapes of living mould,
         (Time's very mummy, she!)
       Whom only Hope's sweet balm hath power to hold
       Within the chambers of the grave so cold,—
         Thy fever calls this immortality!"

       "For empty hopes,—corruption gives the lie—
         Didst thou exchange what thou hadst surely done?
       Six thousand years sped death in silence by,—
       His corpse from out the grave e'er mounted high,
         That mention made of the Requiting One?"

       I saw time fly to reach thy distant shore,
         I saw fair Nature lie
       A shrivelled corpse behind him evermore,—
       No dead from out the grave then sought to soar
         Yet in that Oath divine still trusted I.

       My ev'ry joy to thee I've sacrificed,
         I throw me now before thy judgment-throne;
       The many's scorn with boldness I've despised,—
       Only—thy gifts by me were ever prized,—
         I ask my wages now, Requiting One!

       "With equal love I love each child of mine!"
         A genius hid from sight exclaimed.
       "Two flowers," he cried, "ye mortals, mark the sign,—
       Two flowers to greet the Searcher wise entwine,—
         Hope and Enjoyment they are named."

       "Who of these flowers plucks one, let him ne'er yearn
         To touch the other sister's bloom.
       Let him enjoy, who has no faith; eterne
       As earth, this truth!—Abstain, who faith can learn!
         The world's long story is the world's own doom."

       "Hope thou hast felt,—thy wages, then, are paid;
         Thy faith 'twas formed the rapture pledged to thee.
       Thou might'st have of the wise inquiry made,—
       The minutes thou neglectest, as they fade,
         Are given back by no eternity!"

## THE CONFLICT.

       No! I this conflict longer will not wage,
        The conflict duty claims—the giant task;—
       Thy spells, O virtue, never can assuage
        The heart's wild fire—this offering do not ask

       True, I have sworn—a solemn vow have sworn,
        That I myself will curb the self within;
       Yet take thy wreath, no more it shall be worn—
        Take back thy wreath, and leave me free to sin.

       Rent be the contract I with thee once made;—
        She loves me, loves me—forfeit be the crown!
       Blessed he who, lulled in rapture's dreamy shade,
        Glides, as I glide, the deep fall gladly down.

       She sees the worm that my youth's bloom decays,
        She sees my spring-time wasted as it flees;
       And, marvelling at the rigor that gainsays
        The heart's sweet impulse, my reward decrees.

       Distrust this angel purity, fair soul!
        It is to guilt thy pity armeth me;
       Could being lavish its unmeasured whole,
        It ne'er could give a gift to rival thee!

       Thee—the dear guilt I ever seek to shun,
        O tyranny of fate, O wild desires!
       My virtue's only crown can but be won
        In that last breath—when virtue's self expires!

## THE ARTISTS.

       How gracefully, O man, with thy palm-bough,
       Upon the waning century standest thou,
        In proud and noble manhood's prime,
       With unlocked senses, with a spirit freed,
       Of firmness mild,—though silent, rich in deed,
        The ripest son of Time,
       Through meekness great, through precepts strong,
       Through treasures rich, that time had long
        Hid in thy bosom, and through reason free,—
       Master of Nature, who thy fetters loves,
       And who thy strength in thousand conflicts proves,
        And from the desert soared in pride with thee!

        Flushed with the glow of victory,
       Never forget to prize the hand
        That found the weeping orphan child
       Deserted on life's barren strand,
        And left a prey to hazard wild,—
       That, ere thy spirit-honor saw the day,
        Thy youthful heart watched over silently,
       And from thy tender bosom turned away
        Each thought that might have stained its purity;
       That kind one ne'er forget who, as in sport,
        Thy youth to noble aspirations trained,
       And who to thee in easy riddles taught
        The secret how each virtue might be gained;
       Who, to receive him back more perfect still,
        E'en into strangers' arms her favorite gave—
       Oh, may'st thou never with degenerate will,
        Humble thyself to be her abject slave!
       In industry, the bee the palm may bear;
        In skill, the worm a lesson may impart;
       With spirits blest thy knowledge thou dost share,
        But thou, O man, alone hast art!

       Only through beauty's morning gate
        Didst thou the land of knowledge find.
       To merit a more glorious fate,
        In graces trains itself the mind.
       What thrilled thee through with trembling blessed,
        When erst the Muses swept the chord,
       That power created in thy breast,
        Which to the mighty spirit soared.

       When first was seen by doting reason's ken,
        When many a thousand years had passed away,
       A symbol of the fair and great e'en then,
        Before the childlike mind uncovered lay.
       Its blessed form bade us honor virtue's cause,—
        The honest sense 'gainst vice put forth its powers,
       Before a Solon had devised the laws
        That slowly bring to light their languid flowers.
       Before Eternity's vast scheme
        Was to the thinker's mind revealed,
       Was't not foreshadowed in his dream,
        Whose eyes explored yon starry field?

       Urania,—the majestic dreaded one,
        Who wears a glory of Orions twined
       Around her brow, and who is seen by none
        Save purest spirits, when, in splendor shrined,
       She soars above the stars in pride,
        Ascending to her sunny throne,—
       Her fiery chaplet lays aside,
        And now, as beauty, stands alone;
       While, with the Graces' girdle round her cast,
        She seems a child, by children understood;
       For we shall recognize as truth at last,
        What here as beauty only we have viewed.

       When the Creator banished from his sight
        Frail man to dark mortality's abode,
       And granted him a late return to light,
        Only by treading reason's arduous road,—
       When each immortal turned his face away,
        She, the compassionate, alone
       Took up her dwelling in that house of clay,
        With the deserted, banished one.
       With drooping wing she hovers here
        Around her darling, near the senses' land,
       And on his prison-walls so drear
        Elysium paints with fond deceptive hand.

       While soft humanity still lay at rest,
        Within her tender arms extended,
       No flame was stirred by bigots' murderous zest,
        No guiltless blood on high ascended.
       The heart that she in gentle fetters binds,
        Views duty's slavish escort scornfully;
       Her path of light, though fairer far it winds,
        Sinks in the sun-track of morality.
       Those who in her chaste service still remain,
        No grovelling thought can tempt, no fate affright;
       The spiritual life, so free from stain,
       Freedom's sweet birthright, they receive again,
        Under the mystic sway of holy might.

       The purest among millions, happy they
        Whom to her service she has sanctified,
       Whose mouths the mighty one's commands convey,
        Within whose breasts she deigneth to abide;
       Whom she ordained to feed her holy fire
       Upon her altar's ever-flaming pyre,—
       Whose eyes alone her unveiled graces meet,
       And whom she gathers round in union sweet
       In the much-honored place be glad
        Where noble order bade ye climb,
        For in the spirit-world sublime,
       Man's loftiest rank ye've ever had!

       Ere to the world proportion ye revealed,
        That every being joyfully obeys,—
       A boundless structure, in night's veil concealed,
        Illumed by naught but faint and languid rays,
       A band of phantoms, struggling ceaselessly,
        Holding his mind in slavish fetters bound,
       Unsociable and rude as be,
        Assailing him on every side around,—
       Thus seemed to man creation in that day!
        United to surrounding forms alone
        By the blind chains the passions had put on,
       Whilst Nature's beauteous spirit fled away
        Unfelt, untasted, and unknown.

       And, as it hovered o'er with parting ray,
        Ye seized the shades so neighborly,
       With silent hand, with feeling mind,
       And taught how they might be combined
        In one firm bond of harmony.
       The gaze, light-soaring, felt uplifted then,
        When first the cedar's slender trunk it viewed;
        And pleasingly the ocean's crystal flood
       Reflected back the dancing form again.
       Could ye mistake the look, with beauty fraught,
        That Nature gave to help ye on your way?
       The image floating on the billows taught
        The art the fleeting shadow to portray.

       From her own being torn apart,
        Her phantom, beauteous as a dream,
        She plunged into the silvery stream,
       Surrendering to her spoiler's art.
       Creative power soon in your breast unfolded;
        Too noble far, not idly to conceive,
       The shadow's form in sand, in clay ye moulded,
        And made it in the sketch its being leave.
       The longing thirst for action then awoke,—
       And from your breast the first creation broke.

       By contemplation captive made,
        Ensnared by your discerning eye,
       The friendly phantom's soon betrayed
        The talisman that roused your ecstasy.
       The laws of wonder-working might,
       The stores by beauty brought to light,
       Inventive reason in soft union planned
       To blend together 'neath your forming hand.
       The obelisk, the pyramid ascended,
        The Hermes stood, the column sprang on high,
        The reed poured forth the woodland melody,
       Immortal song on victor's deeds attended.

       The fairest flowers that decked the earth,
        Into a nosegay, with wise choice combined,
       Thus the first art from Nature had its birth;
        Into a garland then were nosegays twined,
       And from the works that mortal hands had made,
       A second, nobler art was now displayed.
        The child of beauty, self-sufficient now,
       That issued from your hands to perfect day,
        Loses the chaplet that adorned its brow,
       Soon as reality asserts its sway.
       The column, yielding to proportion's chains,
        Must with its sisters join in friendly link,
        The hero in the hero-band must sink,
       The Muses' harp peals forth its tuneful strains.

       The wondering savages soon came
        To view the new creation's plan
       "Behold!"—the joyous crowds exclaim,—
        "Behold, all this is done by man!"
       With jocund and more social aim
       The minstrel's lyre their awe awoke,
       Telling of Titans, and of giant's frays
        And lion-slayers, turning, as he spoke,
       Even into heroes those who heard his lays.
       For the first time the soul feels joy,
        By raptures blessed that calmer are,
        That only greet it from afar,
       That passions wild can ne'er destroy,
       And that, when tasted, do not cloy.

       And now the spirit, free and fair,
        Awoke from out its sensual sleep;
       By you unchained, the slave of care
        Into the arms of joy could leap.
       Each brutish barrier soon was set at naught,
        Humanity first graced the cloudless brow,
       And the majestic, noble stranger, thought,
        From out the wondering brain sprang boldly now.
       Man in his glory stood upright,
        And showed the stars his kingly face;
       His speaking glance the sun's bright light
        Blessed in the realms sublime of space.
       Upon the cheek now bloomed the smile,
        The voice's soulful harmony
       Expanded into song the while,
       And feeling swam in the moist eye;
       And from the mouth, with spirit teeming o'er,
       Jest, sweetly linked with grace, began to pour.

       Sunk in the instincts of the worm,
        By naught but sensual lust possessed,
        Ye recognized within his breast
       Love-spiritual's noble germ;
        And that this germ of love so blest
       Escaped the senses' abject load,
       To the first pastoral song he owed.
       Raised to the dignity of thought,
       Passions more calm to flow were taught
        From the bard's mouth with melody.
       The cheeks with dewy softness burned;
       The longing that, though quenched, still yearned,
        Proclaimed the spirit-harmony.

       The wisest's wisdom, and the strongest's vigor,—
        The meekest's meekness, and the noblest's grace,
       By you were knit together in one figure,
        Wreathing a radiant glory round the place.
       Man at the Unknown's sight must tremble,
        Yet its refulgence needs must love;
       That mighty Being to resemble,
        Each glorious hero madly strove;
       The prototype of beauty's earliest strain
       Ye made resound through Nature's wide domain.

       The passions' wild and headlong course,
        The ever-varying plan of fate,
       Duty and instinct's twofold force,
        With proving mind and guidance straight
       Ye then conducted to their ends.
        What Nature, as she moves along,
       Far from each other ever rends,
        Become upon the stage, in song,
       Members of order, firmly bound.
        Awed by the Furies' chorus dread,
        Murder draws down upon its head
       The doom of death from their wild sound.
       Long e'er the wise to give a verdict dared,
       An Iliad had fate's mysteries declared
        To early ages from afar;
       While Providence in silence fared
        Into the world from Thespis' car.
       Yet into that world's current so sublime
       Your symmetry was borne before its time,
       When the dark hand of destiny
       Failed in your sight to part by force.

       What it had fashioned 'neath your eye,
       In darkness life made haste to die,
        Ere it fulfilled its beauteous course.
       Then ye with bold and self-sufficient might
       Led the arch further through the future's night:
       Then, too, ye plunged, without a fear,
        Into Avernus' ocean black,
       And found the vanished life so dear
        Beyond the urn, and brought it back.
       A blooming Pollux-form appeared now soon,
        On Castor leaning, and enshrined in light—
       The shadow that is seen upon the moon,
        Ere she has filled her silvery circle bright!

       Yet higher,—higher still above the earth
        Inventive genius never ceased to rise:
       Creations from creations had their birth,
        And harmonies from harmonies.
       What here alone enchants the ravished sight,
        A nobler beauty yonder must obey;
       The graceful charms that in the nymph unite,
        In the divine Athene melt away;
       The strength with which the wrestler is endowed,
        In the god's beauty we no longer find:
       The wonder of his time—Jove's image proud—
        In the Olympian temple is enshrined.

       The world, transformed by industry's bold hand,
        The human heart, by new-born instincts moved,
        That have in burning fights been fully proved,
       Your circle of creation now expand.
       Advancing man bears on his soaring pinions,
        In gratitude, art with him in his flight,
       And out of Nature's now-enriched dominions
        New worlds of beauty issue forth to light.
       The barriers upon knowledge are o'erthrown;
        The spirit that, with pleasure soon matured,
        Has in your easy triumphs been inured
        To hasten through an artist-whole of graces,
        Nature's more distant columns duly places.
       And overtakes her on her pathway lone.
       He weighs her now with weights that human are,
        Metes her with measures that she lent of old;
       While in her beauty's rites more practised far,
        She now must let his eye her form behold.
       With youthful and self-pleasing bliss,
        He lends the spheres his harmony,
       And, if he praise earth's edifice,
        'Tis for its wondrous symmetry.

       In all that now around him breathes,
        Proportion sweet is ever rife;
       And beauty's golden girdle wreathes
        With mildness round his path through life;
       Perfection blest, triumphantly,
       Before him in your works soars high;
       Wherever boisterous rapture swells,
        Wherever silent sorrow flees,
       Where pensive contemplation dwells,
        Where he the tears of anguish sees,
       Where thousand terrors on him glare,
        Harmonious streams are yet behind—
       He sees the Graces sporting there,
        With feeling silent and refined.
       Gentle as beauty's lines together linking,
        As the appearances that round him play,
       In tender outline in each other sinking,
        The soft breath of his life thus fleets away.
       His spirit melts in the harmonious sea,
        That, rich in rapture, round his senses flows,
       And the dissolving thought all silently
        To omnipresent Cytherea grows.
       Joining in lofty union with the Fates,
        On Graces and on Muses calm relying,
       With freely-offered bosom he awaits
        The shaft that soon against him will be flying
       From the soft bow necessity creates.

       Favorites beloved of blissful harmony,
        Welcome attendants on life's dreary road,
       The noblest and the dearest far that she,
        Who gave us life, to bless that life bestowed!
       That unyoked man his duties bears in mind,
       And loves the fetters that his motions bind,
       That Chance with brazen sceptre rules him not,—
       For this eternity is now your lot,
       Your heart has won a bright reward for this.
        That round the cup where freedom flows,
       Merrily sport the gods of bliss,—
        The beauteous dream its fragrance throws,
       For this, receive a loving kiss!

       The spirit, glorious and serene,
        Who round necessity the graces trains,—
        Who bids his ether and his starry plains
       Upon us wait with pleasing mien,—
       Who, 'mid his terrors, by his majesty gives joy,
       And who is beauteous e'en when seeking to destroy,—
       Him imitate, the artist good!
       As o'er the streamlet's crystal flood
       The banks with checkered dances hover,
        The flowery mead, the sunset's light,—
       Thus gleams, life's barren pathway over,
        Poesy's shadowy world so bright.
       In bridal dress ye led us on
       Before the terrible Unknown,
       Before the inexorable fate,
        As in your urns the bones are laid,
        With beauteous magic veil ye shade
       The chorus dread that cares create.
       Thousands of years I hastened through
        The boundless realm of vanished time
       How sad it seems when left by you—
        But where ye linger, how sublime!

       She who, with fleeting wing, of yore
        From your creating hand arose in might,
       Within your arms was found once more,
        When, vanquished by Time's silent flight,
       Life's blossoms faded from the cheek,
        And from the limbs all vigor went,
       And mournfully, with footstep weak,
        Upon his staff the gray-beard leant.
       Then gave ye to the languishing,
       Life's waters from a new-born spring;
       Twice was the youth of time renewed,
       Twice, from the seeds that ye had strewed.

       When chased by fierce barbarian hordes away,
        The last remaining votive brand ye tore
       From Orient's altars, now pollution's prey,
        And to these western lands in safety bore.
       The fugitive from yonder eastern shore,
        The youthful day, the West her dwelling made;
       And on Hesperia's plains sprang up once more
        Ionia's flowers, in pristine bloom arrayed.
       Over the spirit fairer Nature shed,
        With soft refulgence, a reflection bright,
       And through the graceful soul with stately tread
        Advanced the mighty Deity of light.
       Millions of chains were burst asunder then,
        And to the slave then human laws applied,
       And mildly rose the younger race of men,
        As brethren, gently wandering side by side,
       With noble inward ecstasy,
        The bliss imparted ye receive,
       And in the veil of modesty,
        With silent merit take your leave.
       If on the paths of thought, so freely given,
        The searcher now with daring fortune stands,
       And, by triumphant Paeans onward driven,
        Would seize upon the crown with dauntless hands—
       If he with grovelling hireling's pay
        Thinks to dismiss his glorious guide—
       Or, with the first slave's-place array
        Art near the throne his dream supplied—
       Forgive him!—O'er your head to-day
        Hovers perfection's crown in pride,
       With you the earliest plant Spring had,
        Soul-forming Nature first began;
       With you, the harvest-chaplet glad,
        Perfected Nature ends her plan.

       The art creative, that all-modestly arose
       From clay and stone, with silent triumph throws
        Its arms around the spirit's vast domain.
       What in the land of knowledge the discoverer knows,
        He knows, discovers, only for your gain
       The treasures that the thinker has amassed,
        He will enjoy within your arms alone,
       Soon as his knowledge, beauty-ripe at last.
        To art ennobled shall have grown,—
       Soon as with you he scales a mountain-height,
        And there, illumined by the setting sun,
       The smiling valley bursts upon his sight.
       The richer ye reward the eager gaze
        The higher, fairer orders that the mind
       May traverse with its magic rays,
        Or compass with enjoyment unconfined—
       The wider thoughts and feelings open lie
       To more luxuriant floods of harmony.
       To beauty's richer, more majestic stream,—
       The fair members of the world's vast scheme,
       That, maimed, disgrace on his creation bring,
       He sees the lofty forms then perfecting—

       The fairer riddles come from out the night—
        The richer is the world his arms enclose,
        The broader stream the sea with which he flows—
       The weaker, too, is destiny's blind might—
       The nobler instincts does he prove—
       The smaller he himself, the greater grows his love.
       Thus is he led, in still and hidden race,
        By poetry, who strews his path with flowers,
        Through ever-purer forms, and purer powers,
       Through ever higher heights, and fairer grace.
       At length, arrived at the ripe goal of time,—
       Yet one more inspiration all-sublime,
       Poetic outburst of man's latest youth,
       And—he will glide into the arms of truth!

       Herself, the gentle Cypria,
        Illumined by her fiery crown,
        Then stands before her full-grown son
       Unveiled—as great Urania;
       The sooner only by him caught,
        The fairer he had fled away!
       Thus stood, in wonder rapture-fraught,
        Ulysses' noble son that day,
       When the sage mentor who his youth beguiled;
       Herself transfigured as Jove's glorious child!

       Man's honor is confided to your hand,—
        There let it well protected be!
       It sinks with you! with you it will expand!
        Poesy's sacred sorcery
       Obeys a world-plan wise and good;
       In silence let it swell the flood
        Of mighty-rolling harmony.

       By her own time viewed with disdain,
       Let solemn truth in song remain,
       And let the Muses' band defend her!
       In all the fullness of her splendor,
       Let her survive in numbers glorious,
        More dread, when veiled her charms appear,
       And vengeance take, with strains victorious,
        On her tormentor's ear!

       The freest mother's children free,
        With steadfast countenance then rise
       To highest beauty's radiancy,
        And every other crown despise!
       The sisters who escaped you here,
        Within your mother's arms ye'll meet;
       What noble spirits may revere,
        Must be deserving and complete.
       High over your own course of time
        Exalt yourselves with pinion bold,
       And dimly let your glass sublime
        The coming century unfold!
       On thousand roads advancing fast
        Of ever-rich variety,
       With fond embraces meet at last
        Before the throne of harmony!
       As into seven mild rays we view
        With softness break the glimmer white,
       As rainbow-beams of sevenfold hue
        Dissolve again in that soft light,
       In clearness thousandfold thus throw
        Your magic round the ravished gaze,—
       Into one stream of light thus flow,—
        One bond of truth that ne'er decays!

## THE CELEBRATED WOMAN.

### AN EPISTLE BY A MARRIED MAN—TO A FELLOW-SUFFERER.

[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 essentially earnest had allowed him to indulge it he would have justified the opinion of the experienced Iffland as to his capacities for original comedy.]

       Can I, my friend, with thee condole?—
        Can I conceive the woes that try men,
       When late repentance racks the soul
        Ensnared into the toils of hymen?
       Can I take part in such distress?—
       Poor martyr,—most devoutly, "Yes!"
       Thou weep'st because thy spouse has flown
       To arms preferred before thine own;—
       A faithless wife,—I grant the curse,—
       And yet, my friend, it might be worse!
       Just hear another's tale of sorrow,
       And, in comparing, comfort borrow!

       What! dost thou think thyself undone,
       Because thy rights are shared with one!
       O, happy man—be more resigned,
       My wife belongs to all mankind!
       My wife—she's found abroad—at home;
       But cross the Alps and she's at Rome;
       Sail to the Baltic—there you'll find her;
       Lounge on the Boulevards—kind and kinder:
       In short, you've only just to drop
        Where'er they sell the last new tale,
       And, bound and lettered in the shop,
        You'll find my lady up for sale!

       She must her fair proportions render
       To all whose praise can glory lend her;—
       Within the coach, on board the boat,
       Let every pedant "take a note;"
       Endure, for public approbation,
       Each critic's "close investigation,"
       And brave—nay, court it as a flattery—
       Each spectacled Philistine's battery.
       Just as it suits some scurvy carcase
       In which she hails an Aristarchus,
       Ready to fly with kindred souls,
       O'er blooming flowers or burning coals,
       To fame or shame, to shrine or gallows,
       Let him but lead—sublimely callous!
       A Leipsic man—(confound the wretch!)
       Has made her topographic sketch,
       A kind of map, as of a town,
       Each point minutely dotted down;
       Scarce to myself I dare to hint
       What this d——d fellow wants to print!
       Thy wife—howe'er she slight the vows—
       Respects, at least, the name of spouse;
       But mine to regions far too high
        For that terrestrial name is carried;
       My wife's "The famous Ninon!"—I
        "The gentleman that Ninon married!"

       It galls you that you scarce are able
       To stake a florin at the table—
       Confront the pit, or join the walk,
       But straight all tongues begin to talk!
       O that such luck could me befall,
       Just to be talked about at all!
       Behold me dwindling in my nook,
       Edged at her left,—and not a look!
       A sort of rushlight of a life,
       Put out by that great orb—my wife!

       Scarce is the morning gray—before
       Postman and porter crowd the door;
       No premier has so dear a levee—
        She finds the mail-bag half its trade;
       My God—the parcels are so heavy!
        And not a parcel carriage-paid!
       But then—the truth must be confessed—
       They're all so charmingly addressed:
       Whate'er they cost, they well requite her—
       "To Madame Blank, the famous writer!"
       Poor thing, she sleeps so soft! and yet
        'Twere worth my life to spare her slumber;
       "Madame—from Jena—the Gazette—
        The Berlin Journal—the last number!"
       Sudden she wakes; those eyes of blue
       (Sweet eyes!) fall straight—on the Review!
       I by her side—all undetected,
       While those cursed columns are inspected;
       Loud squall the children overhead,
       Still she reads on, till all is read:
       At last she lays that darling by,
       And asks—"What makes the baby cry?"

       Already now the toilet's care
       Claims from her couch the restless fair;
       The toilet's care!—the glass has won
       Just half a glance, and all is done!
       A snappish—pettish word or so
       Warns the poor maid 'tis time to go:—
       Not at her toilet wait the Graces
       Uncombed Erynnys takes their places;
       So great a mind expands its scope
       Far from the mean details of—soap!

       Now roll the coach-wheels to the muster—
       Now round my muse her votaries cluster;
       Spruce Abbe Millefleurs—Baron Herman—
       The English Lord, who don't know German,—
       But all uncommonly well read
       From matchless A to deathless Z!
       Sneaks in the corner, shy and small,
       A thing which men the husband call!
       While every fop with flattery fires her,
       Swears with what passion he admires her.—
       "'Passion!' 'admire!' and still you're dumb?"
       Lord bless your soul, the worst's to come:—

       I'm forced to bow, as I'm a sinner,—
       And hope—the rogue will stay to dinner!
       But oh, at dinner!—there's the sting;
       I see my cellar on the wing!
       You know if Burgundy is dear?—
       Mine once emerged three times a year;—
       And now to wash these learned throttles,
       In dozens disappear the bottles;
       They well must drink who well do eat
       (I've sunk a capital on meat).
       Her immortality, I fear, a
       Death-blow will prove to my Madeira;
       It has given, alas! a mortal shock
       To that old friend—my Steinberg hock! 13

       If Faust had really any hand
       In printing, I can understand
       The fate which legends more than hint;—
       The devil take all hands that print!

       And what my thanks for all?—a pout—
       Sour looks—deep sighs; but what about?
       About! O, that I well divine—
       That such a pearl should fall to swine—
       That such a literary ruby
       Should grace the finger of a booby!

       Spring comes;—behold, sweet mead and lea
        Nature's green splendor tapestries o'er;
       Fresh blooms the flower, and buds the tree;
        Larks sing—the woodland wakes once more.
       The woodland wakes—but not for her!
        From Nature's self the charm has flown;
       No more the Spring of earth can stir
        The fond remembrance of our own!
       The sweetest bird upon the bough
       Has not one note of music now;
       And, oh! how dull the grove's soft shade,
       Where once—(as lovers then)—we strayed!
       The nightingales have got no learning—
        Dull creatures—how can they inspire her?
       The lilies are so undiscerning,
        They never say—"how they admire her!"

       In all this jubilee of being,
       Some subject for a point she's seeing—
       Some epigram—(to be impartial,
       Well turned)—there may be worse in Martial!

       But, hark! the goddess stoops to reason:—
       "The country now is quite in season,
       I'll go!"—"What! to our country seat?"
       "No!—Travelling will be such a treat;
       Pyrmont's extremely full, I hear;
       But Carlsbad's quite the rage this year!"
       Oh yes, she loves the rural Graces;
       Nature is gay—in watering-places!
       Those pleasant spas—our reigning passion—
       Where learned Dons meet folks of fashion;
       Where—each with each illustrious soul
        Familiar as in Charon's boat,
       All sorts of fame sit cheek-by-jowl,
        Pearls in that string—the table d'hote!
       Where dames whom man has injured—fly,
        To heal their wounds or to efface, them;
       While others, with the waters, try
        A course of flirting,—just to brace them!

       Well, there (O man, how light thy woes
       Compared with mine—thou need'st must see!)
       My wife, undaunted, greatly goes—
       And leaves the orphans (seven!!!) to me!

       O, wherefore art thou flown so soon,
       Thou first fair year—Love's honeymoon!
       All, dream too exquisite for life!
       Home's goddess—in the name of wife!
       Reared by each grace—yet but to be
       Man's household Anadyomene!
       With mind from which the sunbeams fall,
       Rejoice while pervading all;
       Frank in the temper pleased to please—
       Soft in the feeling waked with ease.
       So broke, as native of the skies,
       The heart-enthraller on my eyes;
       So saw I, like a morn of May,
       The playmate given to glad my way;
       With eyes that more than lips bespoke,
       Eyes whence—sweet words—"I love thee!" broke!
       So—Ah, what transports then were mine!
       I led the bride before the shrine!
       And saw the future years revealed,
       Glassed on my hope—one blooming field!
       More wide, and widening more, were given
       The angel-gates disclosing heaven;
       Round us the lovely, mirthful troop
        Of children came—yet still to me
       The loveliest—merriest of the group
        The happy mother seemed to be!
       Mine, by the bonds that bind us more
       Than all the oaths the priest before;
       Mine, by the concord of content,
       When heart with heart is music-blent;
       When, as sweet sounds in unison,
       Two lives harmonious melt in one!
       When—sudden (O the villain!)—came
        Upon the scene a mind profound!—
       A bel esprit, who whispered "Fame,"
        And shook my card-house to the ground.

       What have I now instead of all
       The Eden lost of hearth and hall?
       What comforts for the heaven bereft?
       What of the younger angel's left?
       A sort of intellectual mule,
        Man's stubborn mind in woman's shape,
       Too hard to love, too frail to rule—
        A sage engrafted on an ape!
       To what she calls the realm of mind,
        She leaves that throne, her sex, to crawl,
       The cestus and the charm resigned—
        A public gaping-show to all!
       She blots from beauty's golden book
        A name 'mid nature's choicest few,
       To gain the glory of a nook
        In Doctor Dunderhead's Review.

## WRITTEN IN A YOUNG LADY'S ALBUM.

       Sweet friend, the world, like some fair infant blessed,
        Radiant with sportive grace, around thee plays;
       Yet 'tis not as depicted in thy breast—
        Not as within thy soul's fair glass, its rays
       Are mirrored. The respectful fealty
       That my heart's nobleness hath won for thee,
        The miracles thou workest everywhere,
       The charms thy being to this life first lent,—
       To it, mere charms to reckon thou'rt content,
        To us, they seem humanity so fair.
       The witchery sweet of ne'er-polluted youth,
       The talisman of innocence and truth—
        Him I would see, who these to scorn can dare!
       Thou revellest joyously in telling o'er
        The blooming flowers that round thy path are strown,—
       The glad, whom thou hast made so evermore,—
        The souls that thou hast conquered for thine own.
       In thy deceit so blissful be thou glad!
       Ne'er let a waking disenchantment sad
        Hurl thee despairing from thy dream's proud flight!
       Like the fair flowerets that thy beds perfume,
       Observe them, but ne'er touch them as they bloom,—
        Plant them, but only for the distant sight.
       Created only to enchant the eye,
       In faded beauty at thy feet they'll lie,
        The nearer thee, the nearer their long night!

    FOOTNOTES:

       9  This concluding and fine strophe is omitted in the later editions
            of Schiller's "Poems."

       10  Hercules who recovered from the Shades Alcestis, after she had
       given her own life to save her husband, Admetus.  Alcestis, in the hands
       of Euripides (that woman-hater as he is called!) becomes the loveliest
       female creation in the Greek drama.

       11  i. e. Castor and Pollux are transferred to the stars, Hercules to
       Olympus, for their deeds on earth.

       12  Carlyle's Miscellanies, vol. iii, p. 47.

       13  Literally "Nierensteiner,"—a wine not much known in England,
       and scarcely—according to our experience—worth the regrets of its
       respectable owner.

    End of Project Gutenberg's Poems of The Second Period, by Friedrich Schiller

    *** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF THE SECOND PERIOD ***

    ***** This file should be named 6795-h.htm or 6795-h.zip *****
    This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
            http://www.gutenberg.net/6/7/9/6795/

    Produced by Tapio Riikonen and David Widger

    Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
    will be renamed.

    Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
    one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
    (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
    permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
    set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
    copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
    protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
    Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
    charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
    do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
    rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
    such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
    research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
    practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
    subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
    redistribution.

    *** START: FULL LICENSE ***

    THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
    PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK

    To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
    distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
    (or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
    Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
    Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
    http://gutenberg.net/license).

    Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
    electronic works

    1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
    electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
    and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
    (trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
    the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
    all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
    If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
    terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
    entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.

    1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
    used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
    agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
    things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
    even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
    paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
    and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
    works.  See paragraph 1.E below.

    1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
    or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
    collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
    individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
    located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
    copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
    works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
    are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
    Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
    freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
    this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
    the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
    keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
    Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.

    1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
    what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
    a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
    the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
    before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
    creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
    Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
    the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
    States.

    1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:

    1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
    access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
    whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
    phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
    Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
    copied or distributed:

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
    almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

    1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
    from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
    posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
    and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
    or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
    with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
    work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
    through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
    Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
    1.E.9.

    1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
    with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
    must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
    terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
    to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
    permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.

    1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
    License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
    work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.

    1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
    electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
    prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
    active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
    Gutenberg-tm License.

    1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
    compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
    word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
    distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
    "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
    posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.net),
    you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
    copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
    request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
    form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
    License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.

    1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
    performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
    unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.

    1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
    access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
    that

    - You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
         the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
         you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
         owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
         has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
         Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
         must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
         prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
         returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
         sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
         address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
         the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

    - You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
         you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
         does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
         License.  You must require such a user to return or
         destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
         and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
         Project Gutenberg-tm works.

    - You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
         money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
         electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
         of receipt of the work.

    - You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
         distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.

    1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
    electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
    forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
    both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
    Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
    Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.

    1.F.

    1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
    effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
    public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
    collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
    works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
    "Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
    corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
    property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
    computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
    your equipment.

    1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
    of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
    Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
    Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
    liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
    fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
    LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
    PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
    TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
    LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
    INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
    DAMAGE.

    1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
    defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
    receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
    written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
    received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
    your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
    the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
    refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
    providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
    receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
    is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
    opportunities to fix the problem.

    1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
    in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
    WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
    WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.

    1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
    warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
    If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
    law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
    interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
    the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
    provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.

    1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
    trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
    providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
    with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
    promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
    harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
    that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
    or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
    work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
    Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.

    Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm

    Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
    electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
    including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
    because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
    people in all walks of life.

    Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
    assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
    goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
    remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
    Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
    and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
    To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
    and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
    and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.

    Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
    Foundation

    The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
    501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
    state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
    Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
    number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
    http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
    Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
    permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.

    The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
    Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
    throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
    809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
    business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
    information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
    page at http://pglaf.org

    For additional contact information:
         Dr. Gregory B. Newby
         Chief Executive and Director
         gbnewby@pglaf.org

    Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
    Literary Archive Foundation

    Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
    spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
    increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
    freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
    array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
    ($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
    status with the IRS.

    The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
    charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
    States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
    considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
    with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
    where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
    SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
    particular state visit http://pglaf.org

    While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
    have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
    against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
    approach us with offers to donate.

    International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
    any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
    outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.

    Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
    methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
    ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
    donations.  To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate

    Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
    works.

    Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
    concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
    with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
    Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.

    Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
    editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
    unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
    keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

    Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:

         http://www.gutenberg.net

    This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
    including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
    Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
    subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.