Atta Troll

by Heinrich Heine

CANTO II When the dusky Moorish Prince Sung by poet Freiligrath Beat upon his mighty drum Till the drumskin crashed and broke— Thrilling must that crash have been— Likewise hard upon the ear— But just fancy when a bear Breaks away from captive chains! Swift the laughter and the pipes Cease. What yells of fear arise! From the square the people rush And the gentle dames grow pale. Yea, from all his slavish bonds Atta Troll has torn him free. Suddenly! With mighty leaps Through the narrow streets he runs. Room enough is his, I trow! Up the jagged cliffs he climbs, Flings down one contemptuous look, Then is lost within the hills. Lone within the market-place Mumma and her master stand— Raging, now he grasps his hat, Cursing, casts it on the earth, Tramples on it, kicks and flouts The Madonnas, tears the cloak Off his foul and naked back, Yells and blasphemes horribly 'Gainst the base ingratitude Of the race of sable bears. Had he not been kind to Troll? Taught him dancing free of charge? Everything this monster owed him, Even life. For some had bid, All in vain! three hundred marks For the hide of Atta Troll. Like some carven form of grief There the poor black Mumma stands On her hind feet, with her paws Pleading with the raging clown. But on her the raging clown Looses now his twofold wrath; Beats her; calls her Queen Christine, Dame Muñoz—Putana too.... All this happened on a fair Sunny summer afternoon. And the night which followed, ah! Was superb and wonderful. Of that night a part I spent On a small white balcony; Juliet was at my side And we viewed the passing stars. "Fairer far," she sighed, "the stars Which in Paris I have seen, When upon a winter's night In the muddy streets they shine."

CANTO III Dream of summer nights! How vain Is my fond fantastic song. Quite as vain as Love and Life, And Creator and Creation. Subject to his own sweet will, Now in gallop, now in flight, So my Pegasus, my darling, Revels through the realms of myth. Ah, no plodding cart-horse he! Harnessed up for citizens, Nor a ramping party-hack Full of showy kicks and neighs. For my little wingèd steed's Hoofs are shod with solid gold And his bridle, dragging free, Is a rope of gleaming pearls. Bear me wheresoe'er thou wouldst— To some lofty mountain-trail Where the torrents toss and shriek Warnings over folly's gulf. Bear me through the silent vales Where the solemn oaks arise From whose twisted roots there well Ancient springs of fairy lore. There, oh, let me drink—mine eyes Let me lave—Oh, how I thirst For that flashing wonder-spring, Full of wisdom and of light. All my blindness flees. My glance Pierces to the dimmest cave, To the lair of Atta Troll, And his speech I understand! Strange it is—this bearish speech Hath a most familiar ring! Once, methinks, I heard such tones In my own dear native land.

CANTO IV Roncesvalles, thou noble vale! When thy golden name I hear, Then the lost blue flower blooms Once again within my heart! All the glittering world of dreams Rises from its hoary gulf, And with great and ghostly eyes Stares upon me till I quake! What a stir and clang! The Franks Battle with the Saracens, While a thin, despairing wail Pours like blood from Roland's horn. In the Vale of Roncesvalles, Close beside great Roland's Gap— So 'twas named because the Knight Once to clear himself a path. Now this youngest was the pet Of his mother. Once in play Chewing off his tiny ear— She devoured it for love. A most genial youth is he, Clever in gymnastic tricks, Throwing somersaults as clever As dear Massmann's somersaults. Blossom of the pristine cult, For the mother-tongue he raves, Scorning all the senseless jargon Of the Romans and the Greeks. "Fresh and pious, gay and free," Hating all that smacks of soap Or the modern craze for baths— Verily like Massmann too! Most inspired is this youth When he clambers up the tree Which from out the hollow gorge Rears itself along the cliff, Rears and lifts unto the crest Where at night this jolly band Squat and loll about their sire In the twilight dim and cool. Gladly there the father bear Tells them stories of the world, Of strange cities and their folk, And of all he suffered too, Suffered like Ulysses great— Differing slightly from this brave Since his black Penelope Never parted from his side. Loudly too prates Atta Troll Of the mighty meed of praise Which by practice of his art He had wrung from humankind. Young and old, so runs his tale, Cheered in wonder and in joy, When in market-squares he danced To the bag-pipe's pleasant skirl. And the ladies most of all— Ah, what gentle connoisseurs!— Rendered him their mad applause And full many a tender glance. Artists' vanity! Alas, Pensively the dancing-bear Thinks upon those happy hours When his talents pleased the crowd. Seized with rapture self-inspired, He would prove his words by deeds, Prove himself no boaster vain But a master in the art. Swiftly from the ground he springs, Stands on hinder paws erect, Dances then his favourite dance As of old—the great Gavotte. Dumb, with open jaws the cubs Gaze upon their father there As he makes his wondrous leaps In the moonshine to and fro.

CANTO V In his cavern by his young, Atta Troll in moody wise Lies upon his back and sucks Fiercely at his paws, and growls: "Mumma, Mumma, dusky pearl That from out the sea of life I had gathered, in that sea I have lost thee once again! "Shall I never see thee more? Shall it be beyond the grave Where from earthly travail free Thy bright spirit spreads its wings? "Ah, if I might once again Lick my darling Mumma's snout— Lovely snout as dear to me As if smeared with honey-dew. "Might I only sniff once more That aroma sweet and rare Of my dear and dusky mate— Scent as sweet as roses' breath! "But, alas! my Mumma lies In the bondage of that tribe Which believes itself Creation's Lords and bears the name of Man! "Death! Damnation! that these men— Cursèd arch-aristocrats! Should with haughty insolence Look upon the world of beasts! "They who steal our wives and young, Chain us, beat us, slaughter us!— Yea, they slaughter us and trade In our corpses and our pelts! "More, they deem these hideous deeds Justified—particularly Towards the noble race of bears— This they call the Rights of Man! "Rights of Man? The Rights of Man! Who bestowed these rights on you? Surely 'twas not Mother Nature— She is ne'er unnatural! "Rights of Man! Who gave to you All these privileges rare? Verily it was not Reason— Ne'er unreasonable she! "Is it, men, because you roast, Stew or fry or boil your meat, Whilst our own is eaten raw, That you deem yourselves so grand? "In the end 'tis all the same. Food alone can ne'er impart Any worth;—none noble is Save who nobly acts and feels! "Are you better, human things, Just because success attends All your arts and sciences? No mere wooden-heads are we! "Are there not most learnèd dogs! Horses, too, that calculate Quite as well as bankers?—Hares Who have skill in beating drums? "Are not beavers most adroit In the craft of waterworks? Were not clyster-pipes invented Through the cleverness of storks? "Do not asses write critiques? Do not apes play comedy? Could there be a greater actress Than Batavia the ape? "Do the nightingales not sing? Is not Freiligrath a bard? Who e'er sang the lion's praise Better than his brother mule? "In the art of dance have I Gone as far as Raumer quite In the art of letters—can he Scribble better than I dance? "Why should mortal men be placed O'er us animals? Though high You may lift your heads, yet low In those heads your thoughts do crawl. "Human wights, why better, pray, Than ourselves? Is it because Smooth and slippery is your skin? Snakes have that advantage too! "Human hordes! two-legged snakes! Well indeed I understand That those flapping pantaloons Must conceal your serpent hides! "Children, Oh, beware of these Vile and hairless miscreants! O my daughters, never trust Monsters that wear pantaloons!" But no further will I tell How this bear with arrogant Fallacies of equal rights Raved against the human race For I too am man, and never As a man will I repeat All this vile disparagement, Bound to give most grave offence. Yes, I too am man, am placed O'er the other mammals all! Shall I sell my birthright?—No! Nor my interest betray. Ever faithful unto man, I will fight all other beasts. I will battle for the high Holy inborn rights of man!