The Online Library of Liberty

A project of Liberty Fund, Inc.

• Götz Von Berlichingen With the Iron Hand. a Drama.
• Dramatis PersonÆ
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: An Inn At Schwarzenberg In Franconia.
• Scene II.—: A Cottage In a Thick Forest.
• Scene III.—: An Apartment In Jaxthausen, the Castle of Goetz Von Berlichingen.
• Scene IV.—: The Bishop of Bamberg’s Palace.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Bamberg. a Hall.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen. a Hall In Goetz’s Castle.
• Scene III.—: The Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene IV.—: The Spessart.
• Scene V.—: The Bishop’s Palace. His Cabinet.
• Scene VI.—: Adelaide’s Apartment.
• Scene VII.—: An Ante-room.
• Scene VIII.—: The Spessart.
• Scene IX.—: Hall In the Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene X—: an Inn.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: A Garden At Augsburg.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene III.—: The Camp of the Party Sent to Execute the Imperial Mandate.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: Bamberg. Adelaide’s Chamber.
• Scene VI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene VII.—: A Wood On the Borders of a Morass.
• Scene VIII.—: Camp of the Imperialists.
• Scene IX.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene X.—: The Imperial Camp.
• Scene XI.—: Mountains and a Wood.
• Scene XII.—: A Heath—on One Side an Eminence, With a Ruined Tower, On the Other the Forest.
• Scene XIII.—: The Camp.
• Scene XIV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XV.—: Camp.
• Scene XVI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XVII.—: The Kitchen.
• Scene XVIII.—: A Hall.
• Scene XIX.—: The Court of the Castle.
• Scene XX.: The Armory.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: An Inn In the City of Heilbronn
• Scene II.—: The Council-house At Heilbronn.
• Scene III.—: A Large Hall In the Council-house, Beset By Sickingen’s Troops.
• Scene IV.—: The Castle of Adelaide. Augsburg.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Village Plundered By the Insurgent Peasantry. Shrieks and Tumult.
• Scene II.—: Open Country. In the Distance Two Villages and an Abbey Are Burning.
• Scene III.—: A Hill and Prospect of the Country. In the Flat Scene a Mill. a Body of Horsemen.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: A Village.
• Scene VI.—: The Front of a Gypsy-hut In a Wild Forest.—night.—a Fire Before the Hut, At Which Are Seated the Mother of the Gypsies and a Girl.
• Scene VII.—: Inside the Hut.
• Scene VIII.—: Adelaide’s Bedchamber.
• Scene IX.—: Street Before the Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene X.—: An Apartment In Weislingen’s Castle.
• Scene XI.—: A Narrow Vault Dimly Illuminated. the Judges of the Secret Tribunal Discovered Seated, All Muffled In Black Cloaks.
• Scene XII.—: The Court of an Inn.
• Scene XIII.—: The Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene the Last. —: the Prison Garden.
• Iphigenia In Tauris a Drama
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: A Grove Before the Temple of Diana.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Torquato Tasso
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.: A Garden Adorned With Busts of the Epic Poets. to the Right a Bust of Virgil: to the Left, One of Ariosto.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: A Room.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: A Chamber.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Garden.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Clavigo
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Dwelling.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Dwelling.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s House.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Abode. Carlos, Alone.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: The Street Before the House of Guilbert. Night.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Stella. a Tragedy.
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• The Brother and Sister
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• A Tale.
• The Good Women.
• Reynard the Fox.
• Chapter I.: The Accusation.
• Chapter II.: The First Summons.
• Chapter III.: The Second Summons.
• Chapter IV.: The Trial.
• Chapter V.: The Pardon.
• Chapter VI.: The Relapse.
• Chapter VII.: The Outlawry.
• Chapter VIII.: The Journey.
• Chapter IX.: The Advocacy.
• Chapter X.: The Second Pardon.
• Chapter XI.: The Defiance.
• Chapter XII.: The Battle.

SCENE III.

Princess, Leonora, Alphonso, Tassowith a volume bound in parchment.

Tasso.

Slowly I come to bring my work to thee,

And yet I linger ere presenting it.

Although apparently it seem complete,

Too well I know it is unfinish’d still.

But if I cherish’d once an anxious fear

Lest I should bring thee an imperfect work,

A new solicitude constrains me now:

I would not seem ungrateful, nor appear

Unduly anxious; and, as to his friends,

A man can say but simply, “Here I am!”

That they, with kind forbearance, may rejoice.

So I can only say, “Receive my work!”

[He presents the volume.

Alphonso.

Thou hast surpris’d me, Tasso, with thy gift.

And made this lovely day a festival.

I hold it then at length within my hands,

And in a certain sense can call it mine.

Long have I wish’d that thou could’st thus resolve,

And say at length “’Tis finish’d! here it is.”

Tasso.

Are you contented? then it is complete:

For it belongs to you in every sense.

Were I to contemplate the pains bestow’d

Or dwell upon the written character.

I might, perchance, exclaim. “This work is mine.”

But when I mark what ’tis that to my song

Its inner worth and dignity imparts,

I humbly feel I owe it all to you.

If Nature from her liberal stores on me

The genial gift of poesy bestow’d,

Capricious Fortune, with malignant power,

Had thrust me from her; though this beauteous world

With all its varied splendor lur’d the boy,

Too early was his youthful eye bedimm’d

By his lov’d parents’ undeserv’d distress.

Forth from my lips when I essay’d to sing,

There ever flow’d a melancholy song,

And I accompanied, with plaintive tones,

My father’s sorrow and my mother’s grief.

’Twas thou alone, who from this narrow sphere

Rais’d me to glorious liberty, reliev’d

From each depressing care my youthful mind,

And gave me freedom, in whose genial air

My spirit could unfold in harmony;

Then whatsoe’er the merit of the work,

Thine be the praise, for it belongs to thee.

Alphonso.

A second time thou dost deserve applause,

And honorest modestly thyself and us.

Tasso.

Fain would I say how sensibly I feel

That what I bring is all deriv’d from thee!

The inexperienc’d youth—could he produce

The poem from his own unfurnish’d mind?

Could he invent the conduct of the war,

The gallant bearing and the martial skill

Which every hero on the field display’d,

The leader’s prudence, and his followers’ zeal,

How vigilance the arts of cunning foil’d,—

Hadst thou not, valiant prince, infus’d it all,

As if my guardian genius thou hadst been,

Through a mere mortal, deigning to reveal

His nature high and inaccessible?

Princess.

Enjoy the work in which we all rejoice!

Alphonso.

Enjoy the approbation of the good!

Leonora.

Rejoice too in thy universal fame!

Tasso.

This single moment is enough for me.

Of you alone I thought while I compos’d:

You to delight was still my highest wish,

You to enrapture was my final aim.

Who doth not in his friends behold the world,

Deserves not that of him the world should hear.

Here is my fatherland, and here the sphere

In which my spirit fondly loves to dwell:

Here I attend and value every hint;

Here speak experience, knowledge and true taste;

Here stand the present and the future age.

With shy reserve the artist shuns the crowd,—

Its judgment but perplexes. Those alone

With minds like yours can understand and feel.

And such alone should censure and reward!

Alphonso.

If thus the present and the future age

We represent, it is not meet that we

Receive the poet’s song unrecompens’d.

The laurel wreath, fit chaplet for the bard,

Which e’en the hero, who requires his verse

artist: herm. schneider.

TORQUATO TASSO. ACT I, SCENE III.

the princess crowning tasso.

Sees without envy round his temples twin’d,

Adorns, thou seest, thy predecessor’s brow.

[Pointing to the bust of Virgil.

Hath chance, hath some kind genius twin’d the wreath,

And brought it hither? Not in vain it thus

Presents itself: Virgil I hear exclaim,

“Wherefore confer this honor on the dead?

They in their lifetime had reward and joy;

Do ye indeed revere the bards of old?

Then to the living bard accord his due.

My marble statue hath been amply crown’d,

And the green laurel branch belongs to life.”

[Alphonsomakes a sign to his sister; she takes the crown from the bust of Virgil, and approachesTasso:he steps back.

Leonora.

Thou dost refuse? Seest thou what hand the wreath,

The fair, the never-fading wreath, presents?

Tasso.

Oh, let me pause; I scarce can comprehend

How after such an hour I still can live.

Alphonso.

Live in enjoyment of the high reward,

From which thy inexperience shrinks with fear.

Princess.

(Raising the crown.) Thou dost afford me, Tasso, the rare joy

Of giving silent utt’rance to my thought.

Tasso.

The beauteous burden from thy honor’d hands.

On my weak head, thus kneeling, I receive.

[He kneels down; thePrincessplaces the crown upon his head.

Leonora.

(Applauding.) Long live the poet, for the first time crown’d!

How well the crown adorns the modest man!

[Tassorises.

Alphonso.

It is an emblem only of that crown

Which shall adorn thee on the capitol.

Princess.

There louder voices will salute thine ear;

Friendship with lower tones rewards thee here.

Tasso.

Take it—oh, take it quickly from my brow!

Pray thee remove it! It doth scorch my locks;

And like a sunbeam, that with fervid heat

Falls on my forehead, burneth in my brain

The power of thought; while fever’s fiery glow

Impels my blood. Forgive! it is too much.

Leonora.

This garland rather doth protect the head

Of him who treads the burning realm of fame.

And with its grateful shelter cools his brow.

Tasso.

I am not worthy to receive its shade,

Which only round the hero’s brow should wave.

Ye gods, exalt it high among the clouds.

To float in glory inaccessible.

That, through eternity, my life may be

An endless striving to attain this goal!

Alphonso.

He who in youth acquires life’s noblest gifts,

Learns early to esteem their priceless worth;

He who in youth enjoys, resigneth not

Without reluctance what he once possess’d;

And he who would possess, must still be arm’d.

Tasso.

And who would arm himself, within his breast

A power must feel, that ne’er forsaketh him

Ah, it forsakes me now! In happiness

The inborn power subsides which tutor’d me

To meet injustice with becoming pride,

And steadfastly to face adversity.

Hath the delight, the rapture of this hour.

Dissolv’d the strength and marrow in my limbs?

My knees sink feebly! yet, a second time,

Thou seest me, princess, here before thee bow’d.

Grant my petition, and remove the crown.

That, as awaken’d from a blissful dream.

A new and fresh existence I may feel.

Princess.

If thou with quiet modesty canst wear

The glorious talent from the gods receiv’d,

Learn also now the laurel wreath to wear,

The fairest gift that friendship can bestow,

The brow it once hath worthly adorn’d,

It shall encircle through eternity.

Tasso.

Oh, let me then asham’d from hence retire!

Let me in deepest shades my joy conceal,

As there my sorrow I was wont to shroud

There will I range alone: no eye will there

Remind me of a bliss so undeserv’d.

And if perchance I should behold a youth

In the clear mirror of a crystal spring.

Who, in the imag’d heaven, ’midst rocks and trees.

Absorb’d in thought appears, his brow adorn’d

With glory’s garland: there, methinks, I see

Elysium mirror’d in the magic flood.

I pause and calmly ask. Who may this be?

What youth of bygone times, so fairly crown’d?

Whence can I learn his name? his high desert?

I linger long, and musing fondly think:

Oh, might there come another, and yet more

To join with him in friendly intercourse!

Oh, could I see assembled round this spring

The bards, the heroes of the olden time!

Could I behold them still united here

As they in life were ever firmly bound!

As with mysterious power the magnet binds

Iron with iron, so do kindred aims

Unite the souls of heroes and of bards.

Himself forgetting, Homer spent his life

In contemplation of two mighty men;

And Alexander in the Elysian fields

Doth Homer and Achilles haste to seek.

Oh, would that I were present to behold

Those mighty spirits in communion met.

Leonora.

Awake! awake! let us not feel that thou

The present quite forgettest in the past.

Tasso.

It is the present that inspireth me;

Absent I seem alone, I am entranc’d!

Princess.

When thou dost speak with spirits, I rejoice

The voice is human, and I gladly hear.

[A Page steps to thePrince.

Alphonso.

He is arriv’d! and in a happy hour;

Antonio! Bring him hither;—here he comes!