18. CHURCH-COUNSELLOR PROMETHEUS.
Good Sir Paulus,[19] noble robber,
All the gods are on thee gazing
With their brows in anger knitted,
Furious at the theft amazing
Thou hast practised in Olympus—
Sorry for it they will make thee!
Fear the fate of poor Prometheus
If Jove’s bailiffs overtake thee!
Worse indeed his theft, because he
Stole the light in heaven dwelling
To enlighten us weak mortals—
Thou didst steal the works of Schelling,
Just the opposite of light,—nay,
Darkness we can feel and handle
Like the old Egyptian darkness,—
Not one solitary candle!
19. TO THE WATCHMAN.
(On a recent occasion.)
If heart and style remain still true,
I’ll not object, whatever you do.
My friend, I never will mistake you,
E’en though a Counsellor they make you.
They now are raising a terrible din
Because you’ve been sworn as a Counsellor in;
From the Seine to the Elbe, regardless of reason,
For months they’ve declaim’d thus against your sad treason:
His progress onward is changed of late
To progress backward; O, answer us straight—
On Swabian crabs are you really riding?
Is’t only court-ladies you now take pride in?
Perchance you are tired, and long for rest;
All night on your horn you’ve been blowing your best
And now on a nail you quietly stow it;
No longer for Germany’s hobby you’ll blow it.
You lie down in bed, and straightway close
Your eyes, but vainly you seek for repose;
Before the window the mockers salute us:
Awake, Liberator! What! sleeping, Brutus?
Ah, bawlers like these can never know why
The best of watchmen ceases to cry;
These young braggadocios cannot discover
Why man his exertions at length gives over.