Max. O never rudely will I blame his faith 110
In the might of stars and angels! 'Tis not merely
The human being's Pride that peoples space
With life and mystical predominance;
Since likewise for the stricken heart of Love
This visible nature, and this common world, 115
Is all too narrow: yea, a deeper import
Lurks in the legend told my infant years
Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn.
For fable is Love's world, his home, his birth-place;
Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans, 120
And spirits; and delightedly believes
Divinities, being himself divine.
[[649]] The intelligible forms of ancient poets,
The fair humanities of old religion,
The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty, [125]
That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,
Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished.
They live no longer in the faith of reason!
But still the heart doth need a language, still 130
Doth the old instinct bring back the old names,
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend;[649:1] and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky 135
Shoot influence down: and even at this day
'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings every thing that's fair!

Thekla. And if this be the science of the stars,
I too, with glad and zealous industry, 140
Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith.
It is a gentle and affectionate thought,
That in immeasurable heights above us,
At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven,
With sparkling stars for flowers.

Countess. Not only roses, 145
But thorns too hath the heaven; and well for you
Leave they your wreath of love inviolate;
What Venus twined, the bearer of glad fortune,
The sullen orb of Mars soon tears to pieces.

Max. Soon will his gloomy empire reach its close. 150
Blest be the General's zeal: into the laurel
Will he inweave the olive-branch, presenting
Peace to the shouting nations. Then no wish
Will have remained for his great heart! Enough
Has he performed for glory, and can now 155
Live for himself and his. To his domains
Will he retire; he has a stately seat
Of fairest view at Gitschin; Reichenberg,
And Friedland Castle, both lie pleasantly—
[[650]] Even to the foot of the huge mountains here [160]
Stretches the chase and covers of his forests:
His ruling passion, to create the splendid,
He can indulge without restraint; can give
A princely patronage to every art,
And to all worth a Sovereign's protection. 165
Can build, can plant, can watch the starry courses—

Countess. Yet I would have you look, and look again,
Before you lay aside your arms, young friend!
A gentle bride, as she is, is well worth it,
That you should woo and win her with the sword. 170

Max. O, that the sword could win her!

Countess. What was that?
Did you hear nothing? Seem'd, as if I heard
Tumult and larum in the banquet-room. [Exit Countess.

FOOTNOTES:

[647:1] In this and in Max's reply to it I have taken more liberty than in any other part of the play—except perhaps in Gordon's character of Wallenstein [Act III. Scene ii]. In truth, Max's reply after the first nine lines is almost my own, as are the first seven lines of Thekla's description. The remainder I take a little pride in as a specimen of translation, fully equal, and in diction and rhythmic feeling superior, to the original. S. T. C. MS. R.