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Gawan weilte nicht; da seines Heilkraufts Kraft, wie schwer er's auch errungen, doch deine Hoffnung trog, hat er auf neue Sucht sich fortgeschwungen. Gawain did not wait; when the power of the healing herb, that he had won with such effort, disappointed your hopes, at once he resumed the quest.

Wagner, who had no use for a second hero, here refers to Gawain already having visited the domain of the Grail, where he failed to heal Amfortas. See earlier note about Gawain's herbal lore. Amfortas: Ohn' Urlaub? So breche keiner mir den Frieden! Ich harre dess, der mir beschieden; "Durch Mitleid wissend" - War's nicht so? Without leave? He will have to atone, for his defiance of the Grail's command.

O woe betide him, bold yet proud, if he falls into the clutches of Klingsor! Let none thus disturb my peace! I await the one foretold; "Through compassion made wise" - was that not it? Mitleid can be translated either as "compassion" or as "fellow-suffering". Older translations including Ellis' Prose Works tend to use "pity", which unfortunately has lost some of its original meaning during the last century. Therefore in most instances this translation will use "compassion".

Amfortas: "Der Reine Tor"! I think I know who he is; I might give him the name of Death! Amfortas mistakenly believes that death is the solution to his predicament. Yet he knows that if he died, there would be nobody to perform the Grail ceremony, since his father would die too, and it would be the end of the Grail community.

In the end the prophesied successor will arrive bringing healing. It is not necessary therefore, whatever stage directors might believe, for Amfortas to die at the end of the drama. Amfortas: Du, Kundry? Muss ich dir nochmals danken, du rastlos scheue Magd? You, Kundry? Do I owe you my thanks again, you restless, timorous maid? Well then! I'll try the balsam now, and thank you for your trouble. Amfortas uses the familiar form "du", as if he were addressing a child or an animal.

Kundry: unruhig und heftig am Boden sich bewegend Nicht Dank! Was wird es helfen? Nicht Dank! Fort, fort! Ins Bad! How will that help? No thanks! Quick, quick! Go bathe! At a signal from Amfortas, the procession moves away into the far background. Gurnemanz, gazing sadly after it, and Kundry, still stretched on the ground, remain behind.

Squires come and go. In the domain of the Grail it seems that beasts are considered holy. They are accorded the same rights as humans. This is the first hint that the community believe in doctrines that the Church might consider heretical. A recurring theme in the writings of Arthur Schopenhauer is the error of the Judeo-Christian tradition in its attitude to animals, contrasted with the respect that all creatures are accorded in Buddhism and Brahminism.

These criticisms were echoed in Wagner's own writings. With your magic balm, I suspect, you would try to harm our master. Gurnemanz: Hm! Schuf sie euch Schaden je? Has she tried to harm you? When all is confusion and there is no way to communicate with our brothers fighting in far-off lands, or we scarcely know where to seek them; who, before you could even think, rushes and flies there and back again, carrying the message safely and surely?

You do not maintain her, she asks nothing of you, nor has she anything in common with you; Yet when help is wanted in time of danger, her zeal speeds her through the air, and she never looks to you for thanks. I'd say, if this were harm, then you profit by it. As in the medieval romances Kundry is the messenger of the Grail. Note the reference to Kundry flying through the air. This is related to her identification with Herodias. As in the medieval romances Kundry is a heathen sorceress.

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Yes, she might be one accursed. Here she lives today - perhaps reborn, to expiate sin committed in an earlier life, unforgiven there and then. Now she makes atonement with such deeds, as benefit our knightly order; she has done good, beyond all doubt, served us - and in doing so, helped herself. Gurnemanz suggests that Kundry is burdened with sin committed in an earlier life. This implies, surprisingly, that the "knightly order" believe in reincarnation. In his introductory notes Wagner has alluded to the order of the Templars, who were destroyed after being accused of heresy.

He has also located the Grail knights in the mountains of northern Spain, which in Wolfram's time were controlled by Cathar heretics. All of this suggests a community that is doctrinally independent of the Church. Then it might well be her guilt, that has brought disaster upon us? Zu Kundry He! When he was building the castle over there, he found her asleep in the undergrowth, stiff, lifeless, as if dead.

Just as I found her myself not long ago, shortly after our misfortune, which that evildoer beyond the mountains brought upon us in such shame. Listen and tell me: Where were you roaming when our master lost the Spear? Kundry is gloomily silent Why did you not help us then? Titurel is extremely old but Kundry is even older. In his youth he found her, apparently dead, at Monsalvat. More recently Gurnemanz has found her in the forest, again apparently dead. If she's so loyal, so bold and daring, then send her after the lost Spear!

Ich sah dich schwingen von umheiligster Hand! Ein Todesschrei! Von dannen Klingsor lachend schwand, den heil'gen Speer hatt' er entwandt. It is forbidden all of us. I saw you wielded by unhallowed hand! A deathly cry! I rushed in! As Klingsor escaped, laughing, having stolen the holy Spear. I fought to cover the King's escape; but a wound burned in his side; this is the wound that will never heal. The wound is experienced as burning. For a discussion of the significance of the burning wound, see the commentary that accompanies Kundry's kiss in act 2.

The wound can be interpreted as a symbol for all of the sufferings of mankind. It is a central element of Schopenhauer's philosophy that suffering is an unavoidable aspect of existence. The third and fourth squires have already sat down at Gurnemanz's feet. The other two join them under the great tree. But, father, speak and tell us plainly: You knew Klingsor - how could that be? Gurnemanz: Titurel, der fromme Held, der kannt' ihn wohl. Dem Heiltum baute er das Heiligtum. Titurel, the pious hero, he knew him well.

For to him, when savage foes craft and might threatened the realm of the true faith, the Saviour's angelic messengers descended one holy, solemn night; bearing the sacred vessel, the holy, noble cup from which He drank at the last supper, into which His divine blood flowed on the Cross and with it the Spear that shed it - these wondrous holy relics they gave into our King's charge.

For them he built this sanctuary. You who were called to its service, by paths that no sinner can find, you know that it is given only to the pure to join the brothers whose strength to perform the works of righteousness is drawn from the Grail's mighty power. So it was denied to him, of whom you ask, Klingsor, though he made every effort. Yonder lies the valley where he dwelt alone, beyond it lies a rich heathen land; unknown to me is the sin for which he bore guilt, but I know he would atone, indeed become holy.

Powerless to overcome his sinful cravings, he laid blasphemous hands upon himself, to gain the Grail for which he yearned and by its guardian he was turned away. At which, wrath taught Klingsor how his deed of shameful sacrifice could give him access to black magic; this he now found. He turned the desert into a garden in which bloomed women of infernal beauty; there he lies in wait for the Grail knights, to lure them to shameful desire and defilement; those he entices, fall under his control; many has he ruined.

When Titurel, much burdened with age, passed on the kingship to his son, Amfortas could not wait to put a stop to this plague of sorcery. You know what happened there; the spear is now in Klingsor's hand; if he can wound even a holy one with it, he must imagine the Grail already firmly his. It was a weighty feature of the Christian Church, that none but sound and healthy persons were admitted to the vow of total world-renunciation; any bodily defect, not to say mutilation, made them unfit. It was only under the influence of Luther that its later form fromm acquired a connotation of piety.

Grimms' dictionary does not have an entry for Frevlerhand although it does give examples in which Frevelhand has been used. Before the desecrated sanctuary Amfortas lay in fervent prayer, imploring a sign of salvation; a blessed radiance then came upon the Grail; a holy dream-vision now clearly addressed him in brightly shining characters: "By compassion made wise, the pure fool; wait for him, whom I appoint.

Four squires: in grosser Ergriffenheit "Durch Mitleid wissend, der reine Tor The fool is described as pure. Some translators have misleadingly translated reine as sinless. When Parsifal arrives, we discover that he is capable of sin, as this community define it. In the second act Parsifal will describe himself as a sinner.

Parsifal is a fool because he is both foolish lacking in wisdom and ignorant lacking in knowledge. From the lake are heard shouts and cries from the knights and squires. Gurnemanz and the four squires, alarmed, jump to their feet and turn. A wild swan falls, after unsteady flight, to the ground, exhausted. The second knight draws an arrow from its breast. The King greeted it as a good omen, when the swan circled over the lake, then an arrow flew.

This identification is plausible in view of the enthusiasm with which Richard Wagner was reading Adolf Holtzmann's German translation of Ramayana Rama, ein indisches Gedicht nach Walmiki , Stuttgart during August , immediately before writing the Prose Draft of Parsifal. In Wolfram's Parzival the young lad was reported to have killed birds. Du konntest morden, hier, im heil'gen Walde, dess' Stiller Frieden dich umfing? Des Haines Tiere nahten dir nicht zahm?

Was tat dir der treue Schwan? Dem stauntest du nicht? Dich lockt' es nur zu wild kindischem Bogengeschoss? Er war uns hold; was ist er nun dir? Hier - schau her! Unprecedented deed! You could commit murder, here in the holy forest, surrounded by stillness and peace? Did not the woodland beasts approach you tamely? Did they not greet you as friends? From the branches what did the birds sing to you? What had the faithful swan done to you? Seeking his mate he flew up to circle over the lake with her, gloriously to bless the bath.

Did this not impress you? Did it only tempt a wild, childish shot from your bow? We cherished him; what is he now to you? Siech und matt in meiner Macht, warum ich dich da nicht schlug? Das sag dir selbst mit leichtem Fug. Dein Los nun selber magst du dir sagen! Put up your sword! When I wielded it before, when vengeance tore at my breast, when your measuring gaze stole my likeness, to see if I would suit King Mark as a wife, the sword - I let it sink.

Let us now drink reconciliation! She makes a sign to Brangaene. Brangaene shudders, wavers and hesitates. Isolde urges her on with more emphatic gestures. Upper mast, take in sail! Tristan, do I win reconciliation? What have you to say to me? If I grasp what she concealed, I shall conceal what she does not grasp.

You are evading me. Do you refuse to make atonement? Wahre dein Schwert! Da einst ich's schwang, als mir die Rache im Busen rang: - als dein messender Blick mein Bild sich stahl, ob ich Herrn Marke taug als Gemahl: - das Schwert - da liess ich's sinken. Am Obermast die Segel ein! Was hast du mir zu sagen? We have arrived. Before long we still be standing before King Mark. When you escort me, would it not be good if you were to speak to him thus: "My lord and uncle, look upon her. A more gentle wife you would never have won. Her betrothed I once slew, his head I sent home to her. The wounds which his arms inflicted she tenderly healed.

My life lay in her power; the gentle maid gave it to me, and her land's shame and disgrace she gave me with it, to be your consort. Gracious thanks for such sweet gifts were awakened in me by a sweet draught of reconciliation. In it was contained her grace which absolved me from all guilt. Anchor away! Into the tide! Sails and mast to the wind! He seizes the goblet from her Well I know Ireland's queen and the wondrous power of her craft. Ihren Angelobten erschlug ich ihr einst, sein Haupt sandt' ich ihr heim; die Wunde, die seine Wehr mir schuf, die hat sie hold geheilt; mein Leben lag in ihrer Macht: - das schenkte mir die holde Magd und ihres Landes Schand und Schmach, die gab sie mit darein, dein Ehgemahl zu sein.

Anker ab! Das Steuer dem Strom! Den Winden Segel und Mast! I shall take the goblet that I may be fully cleansed. And witness too the oath of reconciliation which I take, in gratitude to you. Tristan's honour, utter loyalty! Tristan's misery, keenest defiance! Heart's deceit, wishful dreaming! The only consolation in eternal mourning. Beneficent draught of forgetsulness, I drain you unweaveringly!

Half is mine! She snatches the goblet Traitor! I drink to you! She drinks. Then she throws the goblet aside. In the grip of terror, they gaze steadily into each other's eyes in utmost agitation, but unmoving. In their eyes deadly defiance gives way to the glow of love. They are seized with trembling. They clutch convulsively at their hearts and raise their hands to their heads. Then their eyes seek out one another, are cast down again in confusion, and meet again with growing desire ISOLDE her voice trembling Tristan!

They remain in silent embrace In the distance trumpets are heard den sie bot: den Becher nehm ich nun, dass ganz ich heut genese. Trug des Herzens! Traum der Ahnung! Ich trink sie dir! Sie trinkt. Dann wirft sie die Schale fort. Hail King Mark! BRANGAENE looking away in confusion and terror, has leaned over the rail, now turns to see the couple clasped in a loving embrace and moves downstage, wringing her hands in despair Ah!

Inescapable eternal misery instead of an early death! The deceiving effects of foolish loyalty now bear their miserable fruit. How all our senses pulsate with bliss! Longing devotion's burgeoning blossoms, yearning love's blessed glow! My breast bursting with exultant delight! Broken free of the world, won for me! You my only awareness, utmost rapture of love! The curtains are pulled apart, the whole ship is crowded with knights and sailors waving joyfully over the side towards the shore which can be seen close by, with a high, rocky fortress. Tristan and Isolde remain lost in gazing at one another, unaware of what is happening arounf them BRANGAENE to the ladies who, at her command, have come up from below deck Quickly, the mantle here, the royal raiment!

Listen, don't you hear where we are? Hail to King Mark! Long live the King! Wie alle Sinne wonnig erbeben! Jach in der Brust jauchzende Lust! Welten entronnen, du mir gewonnen! Mit reichem Hofgesinde, dort auf Nachen Lord Mark is approaching. Ah, how the journey delights him, winning a bride. What are they calling out?

Am I alive? What was that draught? She falls on his breast, unconscious naht Herr Marke. Welcher Ruf? Fassung nur heut!

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Leb ich? Welcher Trank? Oh happiness in thrall to deceit! A garden with tall trees in front of Isolde's apartments with steps leading up to it at one side. A clear, pleasant summer's night. At the open door is placed a burning torch. Sounds of hunting. Brangaene, on the steps to the apartments, looks out after the hunting party as their sounds fade away into the distance.

Thay are out of my hearing already. Helle, anmutige Sommernacht. Mir schwand schon fern der Klang. You are misled by the grove's whisperings, laughingly rustling in the wind. She listens I can hear the horns calling. ISOLDE listening again The calling of horns does not sound so sweet, it is the stream's gently murmuring waves flowing along so gaily. How could I hear that if horns were still calling? In the still of the night it is just stream that laughs with me.

He who is waiting for me in the silence of the night, as if horns still sounded nearby, do you want to keep him for me? Because you are so blinded do you imagine that the sight of the world has been dimmed for you too? When, on board ship, from Tristan's trembling hand the pallid bride, scarcely conscious, was received by King Mark, when everybody bemusedly watched her wavering there, the kingly King, with gentle concern, loudly bewailed the trials of the voyage which you had undergone.

Im Schweigen der Nacht nur lacht mir der Quell. With a threatening gaze full of malevolent guile he sought to find in his expression whatever would serve his purpose. Spitefully listening I have often found him. Of him who secretly sets snares for you both, of Melot, be warned! Oh, how mistaken you are! Is he not Tristan's dearest friend? If my beloved cannot be with me, then he is only in Melot's company. From Tristan to Mark is Melot's path: there he sows malignant seeds. Those who decided today on this night hunt, so promptly and quickly planned, have a nobler quarry than you imagine as the target of their huntsmen's cunning.

Do you now scold this faithful friend? Better than you does he care for me; to him he opens up what you bar to me. Oh, spare me the distress of further delay! The signal, Brangaene! Oh, give the signal! Extinguish the light's last glimmer! That it may fall completely, give Night its signal! Ist er nicht Tristans treuester Freund? Muss mein Trauter mich meiden, dann weilt er bei Melot allein.

Nun willst du den Treuen schelten? O gib das Zeichen! Dass ganz sie sich neige, winke der Nacht. Schon goss sie ihr Schweigen through the groves and the house, already it fills the heart with ecstatic terror! Oh, extinguish the light now, extinguish its dread rays! Let my beloved come! Ah, alas! How wretched I am! The hapless potion! That, unfaithful just once, I betrayed my mistress's will!

Had I obeyed, deaf and blind, your work would have been death! But your disgrace, your ignominious distress are my work, and I, the guilty one, must know it! Oh, foolish maid! Do you not know the Love Spirit, not know her magic's power? The Queen of boldest courage, Regent of the world's course? Love and Death are subject to her, she weaves them out of bliss and sorrow, transmuting envy into love.

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Death's work, upon which I audaciously embarked, the Love Spirit wrested it from my power. She took the girl destined for death under her sway and took her work into her own hands. However she performed it, however she completes it, wherever she may choose for me, wherever she may lead me, I became subject to her. Now let me display my obedience! Lass meinen Liebsten ein! O wehe! Ach mir Armen! Des unseligen Trankes! Dass ich untreu einmal nur der Herrin Willen trog! Gehorcht' ich taub und blind, dein Werk war dann der Tod. Frau Minne kenntest du nicht? Nicht ihres Zaubers Macht? Die Todgeweihte nahm sie in Pfand, fasste das Werk in ihre Hand.

The gleaming signal of danger, oh, not now, do not extinguish the torch now! The will of the Love Spirit is - let it be night, that brightly she may shine forth, She hurries to the torch where she shuns your light! She takes the torch from the doorway To the tower with you! Keep careful watch! This light, were it the light of my life, laughing, I do not hesitate to extinguish it. She throws the torch to the ground where it gradually dies out Brangaene turns away in dismay to climb an outside stairway to the tower, where she gradually disappears from sight Isolde listens and looks, timidly at first, along an avenue of trees.

Moved by a growing desire she approaches the trees and looks more carefully. She waves with a kerchief, a little at first, then, with passionate impatience, more and more quickly A gesture of sudden delight proclaims that she has noticed her beloved in the distance. Der Gefahr leuchtendes Licht, nur heute, heut'! At last! Is it you? You, clasped in my arms? No illusion? O heart's rapture, o sweet, most sublime, boldest, loveliest, most blessed joy! Bist du's? Halt ich dich fest? Ist es kein Trug? Never yet known! My Tristan mine! Mine and yours!

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Ever, ever one! My Isolde mine! Away for so long! So near yet how far! Tristan mein! Mein und dein! Ewig, ewig ein! Isolde mein! Wie fern so lang! So nah wie weit! Drawn-out time's lingering expanse! Sweet nearness! Desolate distance! The light! Oh, this light, how long before it was extinguished! The sun set, Day ran its course but it would not stifle its spite: lighting its dread signal it places it at the loved one's door so that I might not go to her. For Day, for spiteful Day, the most bitter foe, hatred and grievance!

Just as you extinguished the light, would that I could extinguish the light of insolent Day to avenge the pangs of love! Is there any distress, is there any anguish which it does not revive with its beams? Hart entzweite! Das Licht! O dieses Licht, wie lang verlosch es nicht! Gibt's eine Not, gibt's eine Pein, die er nicht weckt mit seinem Schein? Selbst in der Nacht darkling glory my beloved harbours it in her house, letting its threatening beams fall towards me.

ISOLDE Is your beloved keeps it in her own house, so did my love once defiantly foster it in his heart, bright and devious: Tristan, he that betrayed me! Was it not Day that made him false when he came to Ireland as a suitor to court me for King Mark, to dedicate loyalty to Death? Which shimmered round about you, to there where she seemed like the sun in highest honour's radiant glow, Isolde withdrew from me!

That which so delighted my eye made my heart sink to the depths of the earth: in the bright light of Day how could Isolde be mine? What lies did evil Day tell you that you betrayed your dearest, she that was destined to be yours? TRISTAN In the grip of madness I could not but yeld my heart to that which shimmered round about you in majestic splendour, the glitter of honour and the power of renown. Die mit des Schimmers hellstem Schein shining upon me with the brightest radiant glow, penetrated my head with its beams of vain bliss and reached the deepest recesses of my heart.

What lay there darkly concealed in chaste night, what I dimly perceived, not knowing, not imagining; a form, which my eyes could not believe they saw, caught in the light of Day, lay there gleaming before me. Before the whole throng I praised in clear tones what seemed to me so glorious and sublime; before all the people I extolled aloud the loveliest royal bride on earth. I bade defiance to the envy which Day awakened in me, to the zeal which threatened my happiness, to the jealousy which began to make honour and fame a burden to me, and firmly resolved to uphold honour and glory, to go to Ireland.

Deceived by that which deceived you, how I, loving you, suffered on your account; caught in Day's false glitter, in the snare of its cunning, in the depths of my heart, where burning love encompassed him, I hated him bitterly. Ah, what piercing pain in the recesses of my heart! How hard he whom I secretly harboured there must have thought me when, in the light of Day my faithfully cherished one vanished to loving eyes and stood before me only as a foe!

From the light of Day which made you appear to me a traitor I wished to flee into Night, to take you with me, where my heart would bid me end all deception, where the vain premonition of treachery might be dispelled, there to pledge to you eternal love, to consecrate you to Death in company with myself. TRISTAN When I recognised sweet death offered to me at your hand; when a bold and clear presentiment showed me what expiation demanded; there dawned gently in my heart the lofty power of Night; my Day was then accomplished.

Hail to the draught! Hail to its magic's sublime power! Heil seinem Saft! Heil seines Zaubers hehrer Kraft! Durch des Todes Tor, wide and open it flowed towards me opening up the wondrous realm of Night where I had only been in dreams. From the image in my heart's sheltering cell it repelled day's deceiving beams, so that in darkness my eyes might serve to see it clearly.

ISOLDE Yet banished Day avenged itself; with yours sins it took counsel; what darkling Night showed you you had to surrender to the regal power of the Day-star, to live alone, gleaming there in solitary splendour. How could I bear it? How can I endure it now? Spiteful Day with ready envy could part us with its tricks but no longer mislead us with guile. Its vain glory, its flaunting display are mocked by those to whom Night has granted sight. The fleeting flashes of its flickering light no longer dazzle us.

Wie ertrug ich's nur? Wie ertrag ich's noch? Amid the vain fancy of Day he still harbours one desire - the yearning for sacred Night where, all-eternal, true alone, love's bliss smiles on him! Night soon melts away. Tristan's love? Habet acht! Bald entweicht die Nacht. Tristans Liebe? Yours and mine, Isolde's love? What strokes of death could ever make it yeld? If mighty Death stood before me threatening the very life in my body which I would so gladly leave for love, how could it reach love itself?

Were I to give my life to that for which I would so gladly die, how could love die with me, the ever-living end with me? And if his love were never to die how could Tristan die of his love? This sweet little word: and , would death not destroy the bonds of love which it entwines if Tristan were to die? Tristan with a meaningful gesture, gently draws Isolde to him Dein' und mein', Isoldes Liebe? Night soon gives way to Day. Schon weicht dem Tag die Nacht.

Gloriously sublime Night of love! Those whom you have embraced, upon whom you have smiled, how could they ever waken without fear? Now banish dread, sweet death, yearned for, longed for death-in-love! In your arms, consecrated to you, sacred elemental quickening force, free from the peril of waking! How to grasp it, how to leave it, this bliss far from the sun's, far from Day's parting sorrows!


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Free from delusion gentle yearning, free from fearing sweet longing. Free from sighing sublime expiring. Free from languishing enclosed in sweet darkness. No evasion no parting, just we alone, ever home, in unmeasured realms of ecstatic dreams. Hehr erhabne Liebesnacht! Nun banne das Bangen, holder Tod, sehnend verlangter Liebestod! In deinen Armen, dir geweiht, urheilig Erwarmen, von Erwachens Not befreit! Kurwenal, Brangaene, Mark, Melot and Courtiers.

Brangaene emits a shrill cry. Horrified, he casts a glance offstage. Mark, Melot and courtiers in hunting dress come rapidly from the avenue of trees and stop in horror at the sight of the lovers. Brangaene climbs down from the tower and runs to Isolde. Isolde, involuntarily seized by a sense of shame, leans back, her face turned aside, on the flowery bank. Tristan, also in spite of himself, raises his cloak on his arm so that it conceals Isolde from the sight of those just arrived. He remains in this position for a long period, unmoving, his cold gaze fixed on the men who, in various attitudes, fasten their eyes on him.

To give you my pledge with my head as the bond? I have shown him to you in the very act; your name and honour I have loyally preserved from disgrace. MARK in a state of profound shock, in a trembling voice Have you indeed? Is that what you think? Look at him there, the most faithful of the loyal. Cast your eyes upon him, the dearest of friends. His loyalty's freest deed pierced my heart with its hostile treachery!

If Tristan betrayed me, am I to hope that what his treachery has cost me should by Melot's counsel honestly be restored to me? Fantastic dream! Deceitful and desolate! Fade away! Give way! MARK deeply affected This to me? This, Tristan, to me? Whither has loyalty fled now that Tristan has betrayed me? Das dir zum Pfand ich gab, ob ich mein Haupt gewahrt? Ich zeigt' ihn dir in offner Tat: Namen und Ehr' hab ich getreu vor Schande dir bewahrt. Sieh ihn dort, den treuesten aller Treuen; blick auf ihn, den freundlichsten der Freunde: seiner Treue freister Tat traf mein Herz mit feindlichstem Verrat!

Dies, Tristan, mir? Wohin nun Ehr' and honesty, now that the champion of all honour, Tristan, has lost it? As Tristan appointed himself its emblem, where has virtue flown to, fleeing from my friend, from Tristan, who has betrayed me? Tristan slowly lowers his gaze; while Mark continues there can be read in his expression growing sadness Why did you serve me for so long? Why the reputation of honour, the power and greatness which you won for King Mark?

Did the honour and renown, greatness and power, the services beyond number, have to be repaid by Mark's dishonour? Did you value so lightly his gratitude which gave you as your very own inheritance that which you had won for him, his renown and his Kingdom? When, childless, his wife died, he loved you so much that never again did Mark intend to wed. When all the people from court and country thronged to him, begging and imploring him to give the country a queen and to take for himself a wife; when you yourself swore to your uncle that you would carry out the wishes of the court and the will of the country, then, against the wishes of court and country, in opposition even to you, with circumspection and kindness he declined until you, Tristan, threatened und echte Art, da aller Ehren Hort, da Tristan sie verlor?

Die Tristan sich zum Schild erkor, wohin ist Tugend nun entflohn, da meinen Freund sie flieht, da Tristan mich verriet? And so he let it be. This glorious woman that your courage won for me, who could behold her, who could know her, who could proudly call her his own and not think himself blessed? She, whom I could never dare approach, she for whom I foreswore my desires in bashful reverence, so splendid, so lovely, so sublime, who could not but refresh my soul, despite enemies and dangers this royal bride you presented to me. Now, since by such a possession you rendered my heart more open to pain than before, there, where I was rendered soft, sensitive and exposed was I stricken without hope that I might ever be healed.

Why so sorely, wretched man, did you wound me there now? There, with the weapon of tormenting poison, searing and maiming my senses and my mind so that my fidelity to my friend is stifled, my open heart filled with suspicion, so that now, secretly and in the dead of night I creep up on you, my friend, eavesdropping, and see my honour ended? No heaven will redeem it for me - why this hell for me? The uncharted depths of its mysterious causes, who will make them known to the world?

He turns to Isolde who looks up at him longingly Wherever Tristan now goes will you, Isolde, follow him? To that land of which Tristan spoke, where the sun's light does not shine; it is the dark land of Night out of which my mother sent me when he, whom she bore on her deathbed, left her in death to reach the light. From that which, when she bore me, was her fortress of love, the wondrous realm of Night, I then awoke. That is what Tristan offers you, thither he will precede you.

Whether she will follow him in grace and faith, let Isolde now tell him. Now you are returning to your own estates to show me your inheritance; how could I flee that land that spans the whole world? Wherever Tristan's home may be, there let Isolde go, there let her follow him in grace and faith, warum mir diese Schmach? Den unerforschlich tief geheimnisvollen Grund, wer macht der Welt ihn kund? Was, da sie mich gebar, ihr Liebesberge war, das Wunderreich der Nacht, aus der ich einst erwacht; das bietet dir Tristan, dahin geht er voran: ob sie ihm folge treu und hold, - das sag' ihm nun Isold'!

Wo Tristans Haus und Heim, da kehr Isolde ein: auf dem sie folge treu und hold, so now show Isolde the way! Tristan bends over her and kisses her gently on the forehead. To vengeance, King! Will you suffer this shame? He fixes his gaze on Melot This was my friend, exalted and dear was his devotion to me; for my honour and reputation none was more concerned than he.

To impetuousness he drove my heart; he led the crowd that urged me to add to my honour and renown and to give you to the King as bride! The sight of you, Isolde, blinded him too. Out of jealousy I was betrayed by my friend to the King, whom I had betrayed. He strides up to Melot Defend yourself, Melot! As Melot raises his sword towards him, Tristan lowers his and falls wounded into Kurwenal's arms. Isolde falls upon his breast. Mark holds Melot back. Duldest du diese Schmach? Er heftet den Blick auf Melot Mein Freund war der, er minnte mich hoch und teuer; um Ehr' und Ruhm mir war er besorgt wie keiner.

Er dringt auf Melot ein Wehr dich, Melot! Castle garden. At one side a tall castle building, at the other a low parapet with a look-out post; upstage the castle gate. The location can be seen as being a rock height; through openings the sea and the distant horizon can be seen. The whole scene conveys an impression of being deserted, ill-tended, here and there in poor repair and overgrown.

Downstage, inside the wall, Tristan is lying in the shade of a tall lime-tree, asleep on a couch, laid out as if lifeless. At his head sits Kurwenal, bent over him in anguish and carefully listening to his breathing. As the curtain goes up there can be heard from outside the gate a shepherd playing a sad, yearning tune on a reed-pipe.

Im Vordergrunde, an der inneren Seite, liegt Tristan, unter dem Schatten einer grossen Linde, auf einem Ruhebett schlafend, wie leblos ausgestreckt. Listen, Kurwenal! Hear, my friend! Kurwenal partly turns his head towards him Is he still not awake? KURWENAL sadly shaking his head Were he to waken it would only be to depart for ever, if she, the healer, does not first appear, the only one who can succour us.

Have you seen nothing yet? Still no ship out at sea? Now, tell me truly, my old friend, what ails our lord? All is as it was, perhaps— only that tenderness Comes not again, though young lovers, Wistful of childhood, are strangers no more in the house. Threefold they live like the first Sons of the morning.

And faith was not given Vainly into our hearts; Not us, but you also it safeguards, you Children of destiny, truly, and there Where the sanctities are, the arms of the Word Which you left for us fumblers and gropers at your de- parture. There we shall find you, good spirits; and often. When the holy vapor swirls round us, We marvel and know not how to unriddle it.

You spice our breath with your nectar And then we exult or more often we fall Darkly to brooding— for he whom you love overmuch Rnoweth no rest until he be one of you. Therefore, good spirits, encircle me hghtly, Let me remain, for much still remains to be sung. Thus, too, with all things. So auch wir. Denn manchen erlosch Das Augenlicht schon vor den gottlichgesendeten Gaben, Den freundlichen, die aus lonien uns, Auch aus Arabia kamen, und froh ward Der teuern Lehr und auch der holden Gesange I Die Seele jemer Entschlafenen nie, Doch einige wachten.

Und sie wandelten oft Zufrieden unter euch, ihr Biirger schoner Stadte, I Beim Kampfspiel, wo sonst unsichtbar der Heros Ge- heim bei Dichtern sass, die Ringer schaut' und lachelnd Pries, der gepriesene, die miissigernsten Kinder. Ein unaufhorlich Lie- ben wars und ists. Die nihn nun. Aber wenn ihr, Und dies ist zu sagen, Ihr Alten all, nicht sagtet, woher Wir nennen dich: heiliggenotiget, nennen, Naturl dich wir, und neu, wie dem Bad entsteigt Dir alles Gottlichgeborne. Zwar gehn wir fast, wie die Waisen; Wohl ists, wie sonst, nur jene Pf lege nicht wieder; Doch Jiinglinge, der Kindheit gedenk, Im Hause sind auch diese nicht fremde.

Sie leben dreifach, eben wie auch Die ersten Sohne des Himmels. Und nicht umsonst ward uns In die Seele die Treue gegeben. Nicht uns, auch Eures bewahrt sie, [ Und bei den Heiligtiimern, den Waffen des Worts, I Die scheidend ihr den Ungeschickteren uns, Ihr Schicksals- sohne, zuriickgelassen, Ihr guten Geister, da seid ihr auch, Oftmals, wenn einen dann die heilige Wolk umschwebt, Da staunen wir und wissens nioht zu deuten.

Ihr aber wiirzt mit Nektar uns den Othem Und dann frohlocken wir oft oder es bef aUt uns Ein Sinnen, wenn ihr aber einen zu sehr liebt, Er ruht nicht, bis er euer einer geworden. Darum, ihr Giitigenl umgebet mich leicht, Damit ich bleiben moge, denn noch ist manches zu singen, Jetzt aber endiget, selig- weinend, Wie eine Sage der Liebe, Mir der Gesang, und so auch ist er Mir, mit Erroten, Erblassen, Von Anfang her ge- gangen. Doch Alles geht so. There it is that on feast days go The swarthy women Upon silken ground, At the time of March When night is equal with day.

And over slow passes. Heavy with golden dreams, Drift wild airs bringing sleep. But let one hand me, Full of the dark hght. The fragrant cup. That I might rest; for sweet Sleep would be, under shadows. It is not good Soulless to be, with mortal Thoughts. Yet good Is converse, and to say The heart's meaning, to hear much Of days of love, And events, the doing of deeds. But where are the friends? Bellarmin With the companion? Many a one Bears shyness, timid to go to the source; The beginning of riches is truly In the sea.

They, the seafarers, Like painters, assemble The beautiful of the earth, and do not disdain Winged war, and suffer To live alone, yearlong, under The leafless mast, where the night is not lit up With the glow-lamps of the town's feast days. Nor the playing of strings nor innate dancing. The river goes out. The sea, though, Takes and gives recollection, And love, too, fixes the eyes intently. What endures, however, poets create. Nicht ist es gut Seellos von sterb- lichen Gedanken zu seyn. Wo aber sind die Freunde? Bellarmin Mit dem Gefahrten? Was bleibet aber, stiften die Dichter.

But where danger is, there Arises salvation also. In darkness dwell The eagles, and fearless across the abyss Go the sons of the Alps On hghtly built bridges. Therefore, since all round are upheaped The summits of time. And those that dwell nearest in love Must languish on uttermost mountains, Give us then innocent water, pinions give us, to pass Over with constant minds and again return. So I spoke, when swifter Than I had fancied, and far. Whither I never had thought to come, A Genius bore me away From my house.

In the twilight The shadowy woods darkened as I went And the yearning brooks of my home; No more did I know these lands. Yet soon in fresh radiance. Mysterious In the golden smoke. Swiftly sprung up With the tread of the sun, Asia bloomed out before me. But high in the light Blossoms the silver snow, And, witness to life everlasting. On attainless walls The immemorial ivy grows, and upborne Upon living columns of cedars and laurels Are the solemn, The divinely built palaces. But about Asia's portals. Running hither and thither In hazardous wastes of sea Ripple shadowless ways enough, Yet the seaman knoweth the isles.

Yet bountiful In the needier house Is she nonetheless. And when out of shipwreck or in Lament for his home Or the departed friend. One of the strangers Draws near to her, she hears it with joy, And her children. The voices of the warm glade And the rock-dwelling breezes And the rocks too, they hear him, and lovingly The echo rings out to the lament of the man. And the watchful man viewed well The face of the god As, at the mystery of the vine.

They sat together, at the hour of the banquet, And quietly prescient in his great soul The Lord spake death and the last love; For never enough Had he of words for telling of kindness At that time, and gladdening. When he saw it, the wrath of the world. For all things are good. Therefore he died. Of that There were much to be said. And the friends saw How he gazed forth victorious, The most joyful of all, at the last. Yet they mourned, as now It was grown evening, astounded, For in their souls the men weighed A mighty decision, but they loved Life under the sun, and they would not leave The face of the Lord and their homeland.

Inwrought was that As fire in the iron, and at their side Went the shadow of the Beloved. Therefore he sent them The Spirit, and the house trembled. And the storm of God Rolled far-thundering over their fateful heads. Where brooding Were gathered the heroes of death Now as he, in departure, Once more appeared before them.

No good Had it been later, cleaving abruptly And truthless, the work of man, and it was joy From now on To dwell in loving night and maintain Steadfast in simple eyes Abysses of wisdom. And deep On the mountains too Living images flourish. Yet it is dreadful how far and wide God endlessly scatters the living. Dreadful it is to leave The face of dear friends and to wander Far over the mountains alone. When the Heavenly Spirit, Known before in communion, Was single in meaning; and though it was never foretold them, Yet by their very Hair did it seize them.

As, hastening away into the distance, God of a sudden looked back, and conjuring Him to remain, naming the evil, Bounden henceforth as with golden cords. They gave one another their hands. It is the cast of the Sower, as he seizes The wheat with his spade And flings across to the clear grain. Driving it over the threshing floor.

The husks fall at his feet, But in the end cometh the com. And no evil it is if something Is lost and the living sound Fades from our speech, For heavenly labor is like to our own. The Highest would not have AH at one time. So long as the pit bear iron.

Context sentences for "Tötung"

And Etna ghttering resin, So I have riches To fashion an image and see in the semblance Christ as he had been. But when one spurred himself on, And sadly speaking on the way where I was weaponless. Overpowered me, so that I marveled and an impostor Would be moulding an image of God- Visible in anger did I once See the sovereigns of heaven. Not that I were To become anything, but to learn. Kindly they are, but most Hateful to them as long as they reign Is falsehood, as there dwells Himianity then no more among men.

For they do not reign, rather Fate Reigns more immortally. And when ascends higher The heavenly pageant of triumph. The exulting Son of the Most High, Like to the sun itself, is named by the mighty An emblem, and here is the staff Of song signaling down. For nothing is common. It wakens the dead Who are not yet caught by the rawness of death.

But many shy eyes Wait to behold the Hght. They would not Blossom forth in the sharp radiance. Though the golden bridle guideth their courage. But when, As from swelHng eyebrows Forgetful of the world. Quietly shining strength falls From the Holy Scriptures, Rejoicing in grace They yield themselves to calm vision. Quiet is his sign In the thimderous sky. And One stands beneath it His life long. For Christ Hves yet. But the heroes, his sons. All are come and the Holy Scriptures From him, and the deeds of the earth Have illumined the hghtning till now, A contest unwaning.

But he is there. For his works Are known to him from everlasting. Too long, too long already Has the glory of the Blessed been viewless. For each of the Blessed demand sacrifice. Yet if one were passed over Ne'er did it bring about good. We have served the earth our mother And of late we have served The light of the sim Unwittingly, but the Father who rules over all Loves best that the constant Letter be fostered, And enduring existence Interpreted well.

With this is accordant The song of my people. Wo aber Gefahr ist, wachst I Das Rettende auch. So sprach ich, da entfiihrte Mich schneller, denn ich vermutet I Und weit, wohin ich nimmer Zu kommen gedacht, ein Genius mich Vom eigenen Haus. Denn alles ist gut. Drauf starb er. Vieles ware Zu sagen davon. Und es griinen Tief an den Bergen auch lebendige Bilder. Doch furchtbar ist, wie da und dort Unendlich hin zerstreut das Lebende Gott.

Nicht alles will der Hochste zumal. Zwar Eisen traget der Schacht, Und glii- hende Harze der Atna, So hatt ich Reichtum, Ein Bild zu bil- den, und ahnlich Zu schaun, wie er gewesen, den Christ, Wenn aber einer spornte sich selbst, Und traurig redend, un- terweges, da ich wehrlos ware, Mich iiberfiele, dass ich staunt und von dem Gotte Das Bild nachahmen mocht ein Knecht— Im Zome sichtbar sah' ich einmal Des Himmels Herm, nicht, dass ich sein soUt etwas, sondern Zu lernen.

Giitig sind sie, ihr Verhasstestes aber ist, Solange sie herrschen, das Falsche, und es gilt I Dann Menschliches unter Menschen nicht mehr. Denn sie nicht walten, es waltet aber Unsterblicher Schicksal und es wandelt ihr Werk Von selbst und eilend geht es zu Ende. Die Toten wecket Er auf, die noch getangen nicht Vom Rohen sind. Es warten aber Der scheuen Augen viele Zu schauen das Licht. Still ist sein Zei- chen I Am donnernden Himmel.

Und Einer stehet daninter Sein Leben lang. Denn noch lebt Christus. Er ist aber dabei. Denn seine Werke sind Ihm alle bewusst von jeher. Zu lang, zu lang schon ist Die Ehre der Himmlischen unsicht- bar. Dem f olgt deutscher Gesang. Ripened the fruit, in fire cast, baked And tried on the earth, and it is the law That all go back into it, like snakes, Prophetic, dreaming on The hills of the heavens. And there is so much Like a burden Of logs on the shoulders That has to be borne. Though the roads Are not right. For discrepant, As horses, go the tethered Elements and the immemorial Laws of the earth.

And ever A longing strains after the fetterless. But there is so much That has to be borne. And one must be true. Let us look not before, though, Nor after. May we be rocked, rather, as A boat is cradled at sea. Aber bos sind Die Pfade. Und immer Ins Ungebundene gehet eine Sehnsucht. Vieles aber ist Zu behalten. Und Noth die Treue. Vorwarts aber und riikwarts woUen wir [ Nicht sehn. Uns wiegen lassen, wie Auf schwankem Kahne der See. Voices calmly wending filled And aired is the ancient Bliss-wont hall; fragrant above green carpets floats The happy cloud, stand gleaming wide, Of ripest fruit abundant, and of golden-wreathed bowls.

Well meted out, resplendent rows Uprising here and there aside of the Smoothed ground, the tables. For, coming from afar Hither, at eventide, Loving guests have bid themselves. Dawn fills my eyes. Well-nigh I deem This celebration's prince. Him, to behold That smiles upon a day's great labor: Although you will deny your strangeness And, wearied by your glorious course, Cast down your eyes, forgotten, softly shaded.

And will take on a friendly shape, O Widely Known, Yet bends the knees your awe. Nothing outstrips you; But this I know: of mortal you came not. Wisdom may show me many a thing, but Where a god enters as well A more luminous day wiU break. Yet not xmheralded he comes: And he whom neither flame nor flood deterred Need not be vainly startled by this stillness, now That neither man nor spirit yields to order.

Downstream to sleep, at the sounding of peace. But, days endeared of innocence, you also bring Today, O loved ones, the celebration, and The spirit blossoms in this quiet round; And hasten forth I must, although, O friends, my locks are gray, an eternal youth Preparing the wreaths for the feast. And many a one I would gladly ask; but you.

Concerned, stem but friendly, for mankind, who Far off beneath Syrian palms, Close by that city, would sit by the well: The com fields mstled, quietly the cool Air breathed in the shade of the sacred mountains. So did loving friends shade you, Like faithful clouds tempering Your rays cast toward man. A mortal doom, amidst your words, was to fold A darker shade around you, dreadful fate. So transient Is what Heaven proffers; but not in vain therefore, For but lightly a god will touch, knowing What are our limits, the human abode. Nor can we reckon the moment. Then, too, Hcense may walk unleashed, Blasphemers shall reach the holy spot From distant parts, exercising their frenzy To strike at a fate; yet gratitude Does not come straight in the wake of divine gifts: It must be won through ordeal.

Had not the giver been thrifty always, Surely the sacred treasures of our hearth Would have turned all to destruction. Even so, much was granted us from above. Fire we received. And the shores, and the floods of the sea. Before your eyes the stars Teach you, who shall never become their equal. Of the eternally living, however.

Whence joy flows, and song, One came, a son, valiantly calm. And now we behold him. Knowing his father, now That, to hold his celebration. The high Spirit of the World Has descended toward us. Too great he was to be the lord of ages; Too far his realm to be ever exhausted. Even so, one day a god may choose labor To be like the mortals, sharing their fate.

For it is decreed that all shall recognize each other. And language hold sway once silence has returned.

Yet where the Spirit liveth we venture forth. Contending for the best. Thus I judge it best —When the painter has at last achieved his likeness And stepped, masterful, from his workshop, lord of love only— That equity reign All the way from earth to heaven. Man has experienced much since the dawn. Ever since speech began, and mutual notice; But song follows apace.

And the vision of time, divinely unfolding. Sign of the Spirit, lies before us, bonds of aUiance Fastening his might to the powers of nature. Not him alone, but the unborn generations This token proves: just as in plants Mother Earth, and air, and light will join together. Yet as a final token, O holy powers, This very day of celebration testifies For you, a mark of love.

You, unforgettable one, at time's decline, Our celebration's youthful prince. No sooner wiU This race lie down imtil You, promised ones, each single one Of you, immortal beings, to pronounce Your heaven's bounties, have arrived In our house. Fragrant breezes Are your herald. The steaming downs announce you And the ground, still resounding with tempests. Now the cheek is refreshed with hope And in front of the opened bouse The mother sits with her child.

Regarding this utter peace. And fewer seem the agonies. A harbinger has caught the soul, A promise sent, of golden light. Keeping the aged from dying. Well wrought from above are The savors of life. And labors banned. For all is pleasing now, But most of all Simphcity: for the vainly sought. The golden fruit. You grieved, O Mother, like The Honess when. Nature, You lost your children. Too eagerly loving, you suffered their loss. When robbed of them by a foe Whom you almost took for your own son, A satyr mingling with gods. Thus you did much of your building And buried many a thing.

For you are hated by those whom You, powerful beyond time. Had drawn forth into hght. Now you know and, knowing, relax: For gladly rests down below. So it may ripen, the anxiously caring world. Denn feme kommend haben Hieher, zur Abendstunde, Sich liebende Gaste beschieden.

Nichts vor dir, [ Nur Fines weiss ich, Sterbliches bist du nicht. Ein Weiser mag mir manches erhellen; wo aber Ein Gott auch noch erscheint, Da ist doch andere Klarheit. Das ist, sie horen das Werk, Langst vorbereitend, von Morgen nach Abend, jetzt erst, Denn un- ermesslich brausst, in der Tief e verhallend, Des Donnerers Echo, das tausendjahrige Wetter, Zu schlaf en, iibertont von Friedens- lauten, hinunter.

Und manchen mocht' ich laden, aber o du, Der freundlichemst den Menschen zugethan, Dort unter syrischer Pahne, Wo nahe lag die Stadt, am Brunnen geme war; Das Komf eld rauschte rings, still athmete die Kiihlung Vom Schatten des geweihetenGebirges; I Und die lieben Freunde, das treue Gewolk, Umschatteten dich auch, damit der heiligkiihne Durch Wildniss mild dein Straal zu Menschen kam, o JiinglingI Ach' aber dunkler umschattete, mit- ten im Wort, dich I Furchtbarentscheidend ein todtlich Verhang- nis.

So ist schnell Verganglich alles Himmlische; aber umsonst nicht; Denn schonend riihrt des Maases allzeit kundig Nur einen Augenblick die Wohnimgen der Menschen Ein Gott an, imver- selm, und keiner weiss es, wenn? Auch dart alsdann das Freche driiber gehn Und kommen muss zum heilgen Ort das Wilde Von Enden fern, iibt rauhbetastend den Wahn, Und trif t daran ein Schicksal, aber Dank, Nie folgt der gleich hemach dem gott- gegebenen Geschenke; I Tiefpriif end ist es zu f assen.

Des Gottlichen aber empfiengen wir Doch viel. Und es lehret Gestim dich, das Vor Augen dir ist, doch nimnier kannst du ihm gleichen. Denn langst war der zum Herm der Zeit zu gross Und weit aus reichte sein Feld; wann hats ihn aber erschopfet? Einmal mag aber ein Gott auch Tagewerk erwahlen, Gleich sterblichen und theilen alles Schicksal. Schicksalgesetz ist diss, dass alle sich erfahren, Dass, wenn die Stille kehrt, auch eine Sprache sei. I Wo aber wirkt der Geist, sind auch wir mit, und streiten, Was wohl das Beste sei.

So diinkt mir jezt das Beste, Wenn nun vollendet sein Bild und fertig ist der Meister, Und selbst ver- klart davon aus seiner Werkstatt tritt, Der stille Gott der Zeit und nur der Liebe Gesez Das schonausgleichende gilt von hier an bis zum Himmel. Und das Zeitbild, das der grosse Geist entfaltet, Ein Zeichen liegts vor uns, das zwischen ihm und andem Ein Biindnis zwi- schen ihm und andem Machten ist. Nicht er allein, die Uner- zeugten, Ew'gen Sind kennbar alle daran, gleichwie auch an den Pflanzen Zulezt ist aber doch, ihr heiligen Machte, fiir euch Das Liebeszeichen, das Zeugnis Dass ihrs noch seiet, der Festtag.

So hast du manches gebaut, Und manches begraben, Denn es hasst dich, was Du, vor der Zeit Allkraftige, zum Lichte gezogen. Nun kennest, nun lassest du diss; I Denn gerne fiihllos ruht, Bis dass es reift, furchtsam- geschaftiges drunten. What here we are, far oflF a god amends With harmonies, everlasting recompense, and peace. For a while, especially during his sojourn in Jena, he was subjected to Schiller's influence. In Leipzig he met Friedrich Schlegel and became deeply attached to him and his new ideas.

After his graduation from the Wit- tenberg law school , he moved to Tennstedt, in Thuringia, to train for a pubHc post and met there in the thirteen-year-old Sophie von Kiihn with whom he fell in love. At her death the poet was imconsolable, and out of his grief sprang his Hymns to the Night in which he expressed a mystical death wish, granted soon there- after: he died of consimiption in , when scarcely twenty-nine. In addition to the Hymns, considered a land- mark in the history of German poetry, Novahs wrote two lyrical novels— The Novices of Sais and Henry of Ofter- dingen, wherein the symboHc 'l lue flower" of the Roman- tics first blossomed— an essay, "Christianity or Europe," in which he glorified the medieval spirit, and finally his Spir- itual SongSy inspired by the rituals and festivals of the church and praising the Virgin Mary as the great symbol of the Infinite.

When numbers, figures, no more hold the key To solve the living creatures' mystery, When those who kiss and sing have knowledge more Than all the deeply learned scholars' store. And when in poesy and faerie Men read the world's eternal story, Then will a secret word obhge to flee All of this mad perversity.

Gifted with feehng, Bestows not his love On the all-joyful light? As life's inmost soul It is breathed By the giant world Of restless stars Who swim in its blue ocean. By the sparkling stone, The peaceful plant. By the creatures' Many-fashioned Ever-moving Hfe. It is breathed by the clouds Many-hued, by the zephyrs. And, above all, By the glorious strangers, With the thoughtful eyes. The swinging gait, And the sounding lips. As a king It summons each power Of terrestrial nature To numberless changes, And alone doth its presence Reveal the full splendor Of earth.

Sunk in deep vault; How dreary, forlorn her abode! Deep melancholy Stirs in the chords of the breast. Far-off memories. Wishes of youth. Far oflF lies the world With its motley of pleasures. Elsewhere doth the Hght Pitch its airy encampment. What if it never returned To its faithful children, To its gardens In its glorious house? Yet what flows so cool. So refreshing, So full of hid tidings To our hearts, And absorbs the soft air Of melancholy? Hast thou too A human heart, O dark Night? What boldest thou Under thy mantle Which steals unseen Upon my soul, Giving it strength?

Thou seemest but fearful- Precious balm Drops from thy hand. From the bundle of poppies. In sweet intoxication Thou unfoldest the soul's heavy wings, And givest us joys Dark, inexpressible. Secret as thou, Joys which are promise of heaven. How joyful and bless'd The departure of day. It is but because Night withdraws those who serve thee That thou sowest In the wide realms of space Shining spheres. To proclaim in the times of thine absence Thine omnipotence, Thy returning again. More heavenly than those flashing stars In those wide spaces, Seem to us the infinite eyes Which the Night In us opens.

Farther see they Than the palest Of that numberless host. Unneedful of light. They look through the depths Of a love-enfiUed heart Which fills with unspeakable joy A loftier space. Praise to the world's Queen! To the lofty proclaimer Of holy world, To the nurturer Of blissful love. Thou comest. The Night is here- Rapt away is my soul- Finished the earthly way. Once more art thou mine. I gaze into the depths of thy dark eyes.

See naught but love and bhssfulness therein; We sink upon Night's altar. Must ever the morning return? Endeth never the thraldom of earth? Unhallowed aflFairs swallow up The heavenly coming of Night? Will never love's offering bum Eternal and hid? To the light was appointed its time, A time to its watching— But timeless the rule of the Night; Without end the duration of sleep. Holy Sleepl Bless not too seldom Night's consecrated ones— In this earth's daily round.

Only the foolish mistake thee And know of no sleep But the shadows, Which thou in compassion Castest upon us In that twilight Of the true Night. They feel thee not In the golden flood of the grape, In the almond tree's Magic oil, In the brown juice of the poppy. They know not It is thou That hoverest over the breast Of the tender maiden, And makest her bosom a heaven— They guess not That out of old histories Thou comest to meet us. And bearest the key To the dwellings of the bless'd: A silent messenger Of infinite mysteries.

Melancholy flowed into a new unfathomable world; thou, O inspiration of night, slumber of heaven, camest o'er me. All that lay round me softly arose, and above it hovered my unbound, newly bom spirit. As a dust cloud became the mound; through the cloud I beheld the glorified features of the Be- loved. In her eyes rested eternity. I grasped her hands and my tears became a sparkling indestructible cord. Thousands of years drew away down into the distance as a thunder- storm. On her neck I wept enchanted tears for the new life. That was the first dream in thee.

It passed, but its image remained— the eternal, imshakable behef in the heaven of night, and its sim, the Beloved. IV Now know I when the last morning will be— when the Hght will no longer scare away love and the night, when slumber will be eternal and only one inexhaustible dream. Heavenly weariness deserts me now no more. Long and toilsome was the way to the Holy Sepulchre, and the Cross was heavy. He whose lips have once been moistened by the NOVALIS 61 crystal wave which, unseen by common sight, has its source in the dark womb of the mound at whose foot breaks the earthly tide, he who has stood above upon this boundary of the world, and has looked across into the new land, into the dwelling place of the night— he, of a truth, turns not back to the aflFairs of the world in the land where light holds sway, and eternal unrest makes its home.

Up above he builds himself tabernacles, dwellings of peace, he longs and loves, gazes across, until the most welcome of all hours draws him down into the wells of the foimt. All that is earthly floats on the surface, and is washed down from the heights; but what has become holy through contact of love runs released into hidden ways in yonder realm, where cloudlike it mingles with the slumber-wrapped loved ones.

Still thou awakest The weary to work, O cheerful Light— Thou inspirest me with joyful life. But thou allurest me not From remembering That moss-grown monument. Canst thou show me An ever-true heart? Has thy sun Friendly eyes Which know me? Do thy stars grasp My longing hand And give me in turn A tender pressure? Hast thou bedecked her With color And Hght outhne? Or was it she Who gave to thine adornment Higher and loveher meaning? What delight And what pleasures Offers thy life Which outweigh The enchantments of death?

Doth not all that inspires us Bear the color of night? She beareth thee as a mother. And to her thou dost owe All of thy splendor. Thou wouldst vanish Into thyself, Thou wouldst dissolve Into endless space Did she not hold thee— Not bind thee, So that thou grewest warm. And flaming Begottest the world. Verily I was, ere thou wert. Not yet have they ripened, Those thoughts of the gods. As yet are the traces but few In our age. One day thy clock will depict The ending of time. When thou wilt become As one of us, And full of longing.

Melt away and die. Blessed return. I discern thy removal In wild grief From our home. Thy resistance To the glorious Ancient heaven. In vain is thy fury. Thy raging. Indestructible Stands the Cross, Triumphant banner Of our race. I wander across And every pain Will turn to a pricking Of joy again. Unending life Comes over me, And I look from above Down below upon thee. Thy brightness fades On that httle hill, A shade is bringing The chaplet cool. Oh, drink. Beloved, Of me drink deep. That soon I be wrapped In eternal sleep.

I feel death's encroaching. Youth-giving wave, And wait through life's stresses Full stalwart and brave. Over the widespread race Of man There formerly ruled An iron destiny. With silent might.