Wallenstein. Methinks,
If I but saw him, 'twould be well with me.
He, is the star of my nativity,
And often marvellously hath his aspect [35]
Shot strength into my heart.
Countess. Thou'lt see him again.
Wallenstein. See him again? O never, never again.
Countess. How?
Wallenstein. He is gone—is dust.
Countess. Whom meanest thou then?
Wallenstein. He, the more fortunate! yea, he hath finished!
For him there is no longer any future, [40]
His life is bright—bright without spot it was,
And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour
Knocks at his door with tidings of mishap.
Far off is he, above desire and fear;
No more submitted to the change and chance [45]
Of the unsteady planets. O 'tis well
With him! but who knows what the coming hour
Veil'd in thick darkness brings for us!
Countess. Thou speakest
Of Piccolomini. What was his death?
The courier had just left thee as I came. 50
[Wallenstein by a motion of his hand makes signs to her to be silent.
Turn not thine eyes upon the backward view,
Let us look forward into sunny days,
Welcome with joyous heart the victory,
Forget what it has cost thee. Not to-day,
For the first time, thy friend was to thee dead; [55]
To thee he died, when first he parted from thee.
Wallenstein. I shall grieve down this blow, of that I'm conscious.
What does not man grieve down? From the highest,
As from the vilest thing of every day
He learns to wean himself: for the strong hours 60
Conquer him. Yet I feel what I have lost
In him. The bloom is vanished from my life.
For O! he stood beside me, like my youth,
Transformed for me the real to a dream,
Clothing the palpable and familiar [65]
With golden exhalations of the dawn.
Whatever fortunes wait my future toils,
The beautiful is vanished—and returns not.