Stupidity here and spitefulness
Like dogs in the street coquetted;
In religious hatred the brood still exists,
Though greatly to be regretted,
But see, where the moonlight yonder gleams,
A form of a monstrous sort is!
As black as the devil it rears its head,—
Cologne Cathedral in short ’tis.
’Twas meant a bastile of the spirit to be,
And the cunning papists bethought them:
“In this prison gigantic shall pine away
German intellects, when we have caught them.”
Then Luther appear’d, and soon by his mouth
A thundering “Halt!” was spoken.
Since then the Cathedral no progress has made
In building, the charm being broken.
It never was finish’d, and this is as well,
For its very non-termination
A monument makes it of German strength
And Protestant reformation.
Ye Cathedral-Society’s members vain,
With powerless hands have ye risen
To continue the work that so long has been stopp’d,
And complete the ancient prison.
O foolish delusion! In vain will ye shake
The money-boxes so bootless,
And beg of the Jews and heretics too,—
Your labour is idle and fruitless.
In vain will Liszt on behalf of the fund
Make concerts all the fashion,
And all in vain will a talented king
Declaim with impetuous passion.
Cologne Cathedral will finish’d be ne’er,
Although the Swabian Solons
Have sent a shipload full of stones
To help it, nolens volens.
’Twill ne’er be completed, despite all the cries
Of the ravens and owls without number,
Who, full of antiquarian lore,
In high church-steeples slumber.