THE DIVISION OF THE EARTH.
FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER.
Thus Jove to men from his eternal heaven
O’er earth new formed: “Your’s, mortals, is the prize;
To you in endless heritage ’tis given;
Hence,—and divide the bounty of the skies!”
And, lo! each mortal to his portion sped,
Old men and eager youth; none idle stood:
The husbandman seized on the fruitful mead,—
The stately huntsman chose the sounding wood;
The merchant treasured up his various stores,
The priest consoled him with Falernian wine;
The monarch placed his bar on streams and shores,
And proudly cried,—“The tithe of all is mine!”
Listless and late, when the partition vast
Had long been made, from far the poet came;
But ah! the lots of fate already cast,—
No part remained to meet the wanderer’s claim.
“Alas, alas! I, of the sons of earth
Alone forgot!—thy faithful and thine own!”
Then broke the flood of wild complainings forth,
As rushed the suppliant to the Thunderer’s throne.
“If idly thus amid the land of dreams
Thou roam’st,” the God returned, “upbraid not me!
Where wert thou when yon world, too small, it seems,
Was portioned out?” Replied the bard,—“With thee!
“Mine eyes entranced hung on thy visage bright,
My ears drank harmonies of heavenly birth;
And oh forgive! if, drunken with thy light,
My soul forgot she e’er belonged to earth!”
The Thunderer smiled: “Earth is no longer mine,—
To others given her fruits, her woods, her sea;
Yet, wanderer, this my heaven of light divine,
Come when thou wilt, is open hence to thee!”