This earth's hard outline till it mix with heaven.
Why, what a thief art thou, that hast purloined
The light, the breath, the lineaments of Nature,
And lured them to thy service. The boughs toss,
The mist is curdling, and anon will blur
Those air-washed isles of sapphire. How yon spurt
Of water sways, blown outward on the fall,
Like rent white robes o' the flying Bacchanal,
Caught in some windy cleft! A churl am I,
To envy thee thy skill!
Karl envy poor Corcilius! Ye powers!
Who envies not the poet?
Anvil and forge are mute. Oh never, friend,
Is my
Of some distempered passion-fear, love, hate,
Remorse, ambition-through the furnace-doors
Unruly rush, and quench what they should kindle.
Or, like some snowy mistress of the mere,
My soul, still mirrored in the calm of thought,
heart hot within me, but the blasts
Paints truly her own semblance; but one plash
Of the outer surface, one plunge inward, mars
Her image in the crystal. There, there, there!
Still brooding on this canker at the core !
'Tis like the blind heart of the Cretan maze;
All paths yield access, but none opens out.
I hear some stir within the palace-doors,
And hark! a trumpet!
To break fond musings! Let us lurk and watch.
[They withdraw behind the bushes.
Enter the DUKE and DUCHESS OF SCHLAFENSTEIN, and ARNFEld.
A million thalers, Duchess, did he say
Castor and Pollux ! what a pair of gems
Blazed on the envoy's finger! Sure his lord.
Must needs be heir to Sultan Solyman!
The man's a Midas! Did he say a million ?
Yes, 'twas a million thalers by the month!
It beggars Croesus! Castles half a score,
And all for our Helene! I'll not grudge
His entertainment; no, by Heaven! not I.
We will impound such cattle as have strayed
Too near our pleasaunce with unlicensed hoof
From off the public pastures, and exact
A threefold forfeit. Arnfeld, do you hear?
I do, my liege. (Aside) A murrain on his meanness ! Mice are the largest cattle that could browse
And, Arnfeld, hark thee hither;
Go bid the groom lock fast my stable-bins,
And send me word what waste in them is made
By good Prince Rudolph's train: needs must the
Be heavy for so brave an equipage.
But 'tis a royal prince. (ARNFELD begins to retire.)
That some post sentries at the buttery-bar :
No ale-cask to be broached but at my word,
To pay for this day's feasting.
No pard, Corcilius, but a vulture this,
Who fattens upon famine.
Canst thou not strike a balance in thy tongue
"Twixt rank indulgence and bare parsimony,
But must be prating of our indigence
E'en to the Prince's messenger, revealing,
By niggard glance and hint inhospitable,
Our ducal state all patched and out at heels?
Pshaw! I could blush for shame, when I remember
“This melon is a monster; shall I cut it?
Or will you try the filberts?
Would please your lordship. Ah, the cork is sealed,
Forgive our homely custom; 'tis a vintage
Too rare for general use-shall it be drawn?
Our water is much praised in Schlafenstein."
As who should say, "Your lord is generous
To stoop so low; you see through our disguises.
Who weds my daughter, weds a beggar-girl."
Well, well, you should have warned me; for indeed
The banquet seemed to my poor apprehension,
Taken at unawares, a thought too lavish.
We cannot pit our table or our tastes
Against the richest prince in Christendom ;
And at such odds to court comparisons,
Like children upon tip-toe, nape to nape,
Savours of ostentation. Then the dowry,
Duchess you had forgot our daughter's dowry :
The Count had charge to ask no certain sum,
Nor saddle our slight means, to make them stumble,
If packed beyond their bearing: even so
Our ducal treasure scarce will bear the strain
Of twice ten thousand ducats; and to this,
As paltry, doubtless he had made demur,
But for my wise precautions. As it is,
By gentle force, the moment ere he mounted,
Amid the courtesies of our farewell
Taken at disadvantage, I constrained him
To bate me of five hundred.
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