Imágenes de páginas
PDF
EPUB

At Lützen, in the meadow, he kept up such a strife,

That many thousand Frenchmen there yielded up their life;
That thousands ran headlong for very life's sake,
And thousands are sleeping who never will wake.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!

On the water, at Katzbach, his oath was in trim:
He taught in a moment the Frenchmen to swim.
Farewell, Frenchmen; fly to the Baltic to save!
You mob without breeches, catch whales for your grave.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!

The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!

At Wartburg, on the Elbe, how he cleared him a path!

Neither fortress nor town barred the French from his wrath; Like hares o'er the field they all scuttled away,

While behind them the hero rang out his Huzza!

And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!

The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!

At Leipzig-O glorious fight on the plain!

French luck and French might strove against him in vain;
There beaten and stiff lay the foe in their blood,
And there dear old Blücher a field-marshal stood.
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful: they're shouting hurrah!

Then sound, blaring trumpets! Hussars, charge once more!
Ride, field-marshal, ride like the wind in the roar!

To the Rhine, over Rhine, in your triumph advance!
Brave sword of our country, right on into France!
And here are the Germans: juchheirassassa!
The Germans are joyful; they're shouting hurrah!

G

PATRIOTIC SONG

OD, who gave iron, purposed ne'er

That man should be a slave:
Therefore the sabre, sword, and spear
In his right hand He gave.

Therefore He gave him fiery mood,
Fierce speech, and free-born breath,

That he might fearlessly the feud

Maintain through life and death.

Therefore will we what God did say,
With honest truth, maintain,

And ne'er a fellow-creature slay,
A tyrant's pay to gain!

But he shall fall by stroke of brand
Who fights for sin and shame,

And not inherit German land

With men of German name.

O Germany, bright fatherland!

O German love, so true!

Thou sacred land, thou beauteous land,
We swear to thee anew!
Outlawed, each knave and coward shall
The crow and raven feed;

But we will to the battle all

Revenge shall be our meed.

Flash forth, flash forth, whatever can,
To bright and flaming life!
Now all ye Germans, man for man,
Forth to the holy strife!

Your hands lift upward to the sky-
Your heart shall upward soar-
And man for man, let each one cry,
Our slavery is o'er!

Let sound, let sound, whatever can,
Trumpet and fife and drum,
This day our sabres, man for man,
To stain with blood we come;

With hangman's and with Frenchmen's blood
O glorious day of ire,

That to all Germans soundeth good—

Day of our great desire!

Let wave, let wave, whatever can,
Standard and banner wave!

Here will we purpose, man for man,
To grace a hero's grave.
Advance, ye brave ranks, hardily-
Your banners wave on high;

We'll gain us freedom's victory,

Or freedom's death we'll die!

EDWIN ARNOLD

(1832-1904)

DWIN ARNOLD, a favorite English poet and Oriental scholar, showed his skill in smooth and lucid verse early in life. In

1852, when twenty years of age, he won the Newdigate Prize at Oxford for a poem, 'The Feast of Belshazzar.' Two years later, after graduation with honors, he was named second master of Edward the Sixth's School at Birmingham; and, a few years subsequent, principal of the Government Sanskrit College at Poona, in India. In 1856 he published Griselda, a Tragedy'; and after his return to London in 1861, translations from the Greek of Herodotus and the Sanskrit of the Indian classic 'Hitopadeça,' the latter under the name of 'The Book of Good Counsels.' There followed from his pen Education in India'; 'A History of the Administration in India under the Late Marquis of Dalhousie' (1862-64); and The Poets of Greece,' a collection of fine passages (1869). In addition to his other labors he became one of the editors-in-chief of the London Daily Telegraph.

of

Saturated with the Orient, familiar with every aspect of its civilization, moral and religious life, history and feeling, Sir Edwin's literary work attested his knowledge in a large number smaller poetical productions, and a group of religious epics of long and impressive extent. Chiefest among them ranks that on the life and teachings of Buddha, The Light of Asia; or, The Great Renunciation' (1879). It has passed through more than eighty editions in this country, and almost as many in England. In recognition of this work Mr. Arnold was decorated by the King of Siam with the Order of the White Elephant. Two years after its appearance he published 'Mahâbhârata,' 'Indian Idylls,' and in 1883, 'Pearls of the Faith; or, Islam's Rosary: Being the Ninety-nine Beautiful Names of Allah, with Comments in Verse from Various Oriental Sources.' In 1886 the Sultan conferred on him the Imperial Order of Osmanli, and in 1888 he was created Knight Commander of the Indian Empire by Queen Victoria. 'Sa'di in the Garden; or, The Book of Love' (1888), a poem turning on a part of the 'Bôstâni' of the Persian poet Sa'di, brought Sir Edwin the Order of the Lion and Sun from the Shah of Persia. In 1888 he published also 'Poems National and Non-Oriental.' After that he produced The Light of the World'; 'Potiphar's Wife, and Other Poems (1892); The Iliad and Odyssey of Asia,' and in prose, 'India Revisited' (1891); 'Seas and Lands';

'Japonica,' which treats of life and things Japanese; and Adzuma the Japanese Wife: a Play in Four Acts' (1893). During his travels in Japan the Emperor decorated him with the Order of the Rising Sun. The Tenth Muse and Other Poems) appeared in 1895, East and West) in 1896, (The Voyage of Ithobal› in 1901. The Queen's Justice (1899) was dedicated to his Japanese wife.. He died in March, 1904.

'The Light of Asia,' the most successful of his works, attracted instant attention on its appearance, as a novelty of rich Indian local color. In substance it is a graceful and dramatic paraphrase of the mass of more or less legendary tales of the life and spiritual career of the Buddha, Prince Gautama, and a summary of the principles of the great religious system originating with him. It is lavishly embel lished with Indian allusions, and expresses incidentally the very spirit of the East. In numerous cantos, proceeding from episode to episode of its mystical hero's career, its effect is that of a loftily ethical, picturesque, and fascinating biography, in highly polished verse. The metre selected is a graceful and dignified one, especially associated with Paradise Lost' and other of the foremost classics of English verse. Sir Edwin says of the poem in his preface, "I have sought, by the medium of an imaginary Buddhist votary, to depict the life and character and indicate the philosophy of that noble hero and reformer, Prince Gautama of India, the founder of Buddhism;" and the poet has admirably, if most flatteringly, succeeded. The poem has been printed in innumerable cheap editions as well as those de luxe; and while it has been criticized as too complaisant a study of even primitive Buddhism, it is beyond doubt a lyrical tract of eminent utility as well as seductive charm.

[ocr errors]

THE YOUTH OF BUDDHA

From The Light of Asia'

HIS reverence

TH

Lord Buddha kept to all his schoolmasters,

Albeit beyond their learning taught; in speech ·
Right gentle, yet so wise; princely of mien,
Yet softly mannered; modest, deferent,
And tender-hearted, though of fearless blood:
No bolder horseman in the youthful band
E'er rode in gay chase of the shy gazelles;
No keener driver of the chariot

In mimic contest scoured the palace courts:
Yet in mid-play the boy would oft-times pause,
Letting the deer pass free; would oft-times yield

His half-won race because the laboring steeds
Fetched painful breath; or if his princely mates
Saddened to lose, or if some wistful dream

Swept o'er his thoughts. And ever with the years
Waxed this compassionateness of our Lord,
Even as a great tree grows from two soft leaves
To spread its shade afar; but hardly yet

Knew the young child of sorrow, pain, or tears,
Save as strange names for things not felt by kings,
Nor ever to be felt. But it befell

In the royal garden on a day of spring,

A flock of wild swans passed, voyaging north
To their nest-places on Himâla's breast.
Calling in love-notes down their snowy line
The bright birds flew, by fond love piloted;
And Devadatta, cousin of the Prince,

Pointed his bow, and loosed a willful shaft
Which found the wide wing of the foremost swan
Broad-spread to glide upon the free blue road,
So that it fell, the bitter arrow fixed,

Bright scarlet blood-gouts staining the pure plumes.
Which seeing, Prince Siddartha took the bird
Tenderly up, rested it in his lap,-

Sitting with knees crossed, as Lord Buddha sits,—
And, soothing with a touch the wild thing's fright,
Composed its ruffled vans, calmed its quick heart,
Caressed it into peace with light kind palms
As soft as plantain leaves an hour unrolled;
And while the left hand held, the right hand drew
The cruel steel forth from the wound, and laid
Cool leaves and healing honey on the smart.
Yet all so little knew the boy of pain,
That curiously into his wrist he pressed

The arrow's barb, and winced to feel it sting,

And turned with tears to soothe his bird again.

Then some one came who said, "My Prince hath shot

A swan, which fell among the roses here;

He bids me pray you send it. Will you send ?»

"Nay," quoth Siddârtha: "If the bird were dead,

To send it to the slayer might be well,

But the swan lives; my cousin hath but killed

The godlike speed which throbbed in this white wing." And Devadatta answered, "The wild thing,

Living or dead, is his who fetched it down;

« AnteriorContinuar »