« ForrigeFortsæt »
* Su per la soglia, e fuor per le colonne · Upon the sill and through the columns Corron scherzando lascive Donzelle ;
there, Che, se i rispetti debiti alle Donne Ran young and wanton girls, in frolic sport; Servasser più, sarian forse più belle. Who haply yet would have appear'd more Tutte vestite eran di verdi gonne,
fair, E coronate di frondi novelle.
Had they observed a woman's fitting port. Queste con molte offerte, e con buon viso All are array'd in green, and garlands wear Ruggier fecero entrar nel Paradiso. Of the fresh leaf. Him these in courteous sort,
With many proffers and fair mien entice,
“ Chè si può ben così nomar quel loco, “For so with reason I this place may call, Ove mi credo che nascesse Amore. Where, it is my belief, that Love had birth; Non vi si sta, se non in danza, e in gioco, Where life is spent in festive game and ball, E tutte in festa vi si spendon l'ore. And still the passing moments fleet in mirth. Pensier canuto, nè molto, nè poco Here hoary-headed Thought ne'er comes at Si può quivi albergare in alcun core.
all, Non entra quivi disagio, nè inopia, Nor finds a place in any bosom. Dearth, Ma vi sta ogn'or col corno pien la Copia. Nor yet Discomfort, never enter here,
Where Plenty fills her horn throughout the
year. “Qui, dove con serena, e lieta fronte “ Here, where with jovial and unclouded Par ch' ogn'or rida il grazioso aprile
brow, Giovani, e Donne, son : qual presso & Glad April seems to wear a constant smile, fonte
Troop boys and damsels : One, where founCanta con dolce, e dilettoso stile ;
tains flow, Qual d'un arbore all'ombra, e qual On the green margin sings in dulcet style ; d'un monte,
Others, the hill or tufted tree below, O gioca, o danza, o fa cosa non vile; In dance, or no mean sport, the hours beguile. E qual lungi dagli altri a un suo fedele While this, who shuns the revellers' noisy Discuopre l'amorose sue querele.
cheer, Tells his love sorrows in his comrade's ear.
" Per le cime de' pini, e degli allori, “ Above the laurel and the pine-tree's height,
These, at their conquests made, rejoiced and La mira quindi, altri tendendo reti.
gay: Chi tempra dardi ad un ruscel più basso, These, with the well-directed shaft, take sight E chi gli aguzza ad un volubil sasso." At hearts, and those spread nets to catch their
prey ; One wets his arrows in the brook which winds,
And one on whirling stone the weapon grinds." We earnestly hope Mr Rose may go on and conclude this great undertaking as happily as he has begun it. It is impossible to wish anything better than this, either for his own sake, or for our own.
LORD F. L. GOWER. We now come to a bold venture and the copious specimens of translaGoethe's Faust, by Lord Francis tion, were trom the pen of a young Irish Leveson Gower. This young noble- friend of ours,--a young man certainman, for we believe he is very young, ly of highly distinguished accomplishhas, we must confess, surprised us. ment and most promising genius. He, He has not given a perfect Faust, however, will, we are sure, be the first that nobody ever will do but he has to approve of what we do, when we come so near perfection, that we may candidly say, that Lord Francis Gower safely congratulate him on an a- has put us somewhat out of conceit chievement of which there are few with his efforts upon Faustus. They practised poets now living in Britain were spirited- but they were bastythat might not be proud.
they want the refinement, and what By turning to the number of this is of still greater moment, they want Magazine for June 1820, the reader the flow of this young lord's parallel may refresh his recollection or the passages. It would be ridiculous in story of this wonderful masterpiece. us to give a second analysis of the oriThe analysis thcre given of the fable, ginal poem :--that our friend has done
as well as is at all necessary. We Marg. If sometimes upon me your shall therefore be contented with quo- thoughts should stray, ting a few of Lord Francis's scenes. I shall have leisure memory's debt to pay.
The first shall be that in which Faust. You are alone then often ? Faust and Mephistopheles walk and Marg. Night and day. converse with Margaret and Martha
he Our humble household is but small,
And I, alas ! must look to all. in the garden. The scene is one of We have no maid, and I may scarce avail the finest in Goethe; and nothing, we
To wake so early and to sleep so late, apprehend, can be more happy than And then my mother is in each detail the version. What delightful stage- So accurate. effect—what rich contrasts among all I scarce approve these fancies of my mothe four personages the bewildered, ther's, innocent, timid MAIDEN—the crafty, And think we might do more than many worldly Woman—the Fiend—and his perplexed Victim! what satire ! what My father left us what he had to give, poetry! what pathos !
A house and garden, decent means to live ; " A Garden.
My brother was a soldier bred ; MARGARET on Faust's arm. MEPHIS.
One sister, younger than myself, is dead. TOPHELES and MARTHA walking up
I had much trouble with the child,
And yet my love for it my time beguiled. and down. Marg. Too well I feel it, thus you condescend
Before its birth my father was no more, Merely to shame me in the end.
My mother almost gave it o'er , You travell'd gentlemen are used
It pined, and then recover'd by degrees ; From kindness to put up with all. 'Twas I must feed it, hold it on my knees ; I know you cannot be amused
And thus I watch'd and nursed it, all alone, With anything that one like me lets fall. And grew to look upon it as my own. Faust. To hear you speak delights me Faust. How sweet your task to rear the more
drooping flower! Than wisdom's words or learning's lore. Marg. And yet it cost me many a weary
(He kisses her hand hour; Marg. How could you thus your lips And then, besides, to tend the house afoffend ?
fairsThe softness of this hand much toil has 'Twould weary you to tell you all my cares. marr'd.
(They cross over. To all things I must needs attend
Mar. to Meph. Indeed 'tis uphill work My mother's rule is rather hard.
to teach (They pass to the back of the stage. You bachelors. Excuse the speech. Mar. to Meph. And you, kind sir, set Meph. Would one like you my steps out so soon again ?
conduct, Meph. Business and duty still impel my I should be easy to instruct. course.
Mar. Now tell me true, in any place or Often we leave a place behind with pain, station,
Yet onward must proceed perforce. Has your heart never felt the least sensa. Mar. In youth to roam where fortune
tion ? drives,
Meph. A good man's hearth, the while May suit you well by land, or on the his wife sits by, waves ;
Pearls cannot equal, treasures cannot buy! Yet soon the evil time arrives ;
'Tis thus the proverb says, and so say I. To slink sad, lonely bachelors to your Mar. I mean, if e'er your heart to love graves,
was tending ? Is a black prospect for your latter lives. Meph. I always found the ladies conde.
Meph. Such end, with horror, I expect. scending.
(They pass back, as before. your breast ? Marg. Yes, you are courteous, kind, Meph. Trifling with ladies is beyond a and good,
jest ! But then you come of gentle blood,
Mar. Ah! you mistake. Have many a friend of many a nation, Meph. I grieve to be so blind ; And, more than all this, education.
But this I see that you are very kind. Faust. Dulness, not knowledge, wrin.
(Cross over. kles oft the brow
Faust. Then you forgive my bearing in Folly will often dress at wisdom.
the street, Marg. How ?
Near the cathedral, when we chanced to . Faust. Strange, that simplicity should meet. want the sense
Marg. I was surprised and Auster'd; it. To see the beauty of its innocence !
To be accosted by a man like you.
Marg. (on her knees.) Who gave the What, thought I, sure he must have seen in hangman power me
So soon to wake and slay ? Some sign of wantonness, or levity ? Why call'st thou me at midnight's hour?--Yet, I confess, I scarcely know what charm 0! let me live till day! Arrested me, as I refused your arm. Is it not time when morn has sprung? (They make love.
[She stands up. Mar. The night draws on.
And I am yet so young! so young! Meph. True, and we must away. And yet so soon to perish by your laws.
Mar. I would invite you here to stay, Once I was fair too_that is just the cause. But in an evil neighbourhood we dwell, One friend was near me then : he too is Where nothing suits each gaping fool so fled. well,
My flowers are wither'd, and my garland As when, neglecting all his own affairs,
dead. At everybody else he stares ;
Seize me not thus ! it gives me pain. And thus their talk would be of me and Have I e'er wrongd thee? why then you,
bind me so ? And of these two.
Let not my woman's voice implore in Good night !"
vainWe are very loath to turn over so Can I have hurt one whom I do not many pages, but we must pass to the know? last scene of all. The poor ruined
Faust. Can I outlive this hour of woe ! girl, who has innocently killed her
Marg. Ah! I am now within thy power; mother, and madly her child, is alone
Yet let me clasp my only joy,
My child! I nursed it many an hour, in her dungeon—She is to leave it for
But then they took it from me to annoy, the gallows at day-break. Faust, her And now they say the mother kill'd her miserable betrayer, more miserable
boy. than she, appears at the door with a • And she shall ne'er be happy more' bundle of keys and a lamp.—But we That is the song they sing to give me entreat our reader to turn back to the pain; number of June 1820, ere he proceeds It is the end of an old strain, to read what follows-or if Madame But never meant me before. de Stael's Germany be at hand, it will F aust. He, whom you deem'd so far, be. do equally well.
fore you lies, “ Dungeon.
To burst your chains, and give the life you Faust, teith a Bundle of Keys and a
prize. Lamp before a low iron Door.
Marg. Oh ! raise we to the saints our Faust. Strength to my limbs my faint
prayer! ing soul denies,
For see, beneath the stair, Sick with the sense of man's collected
Beneath the door-stone swell
The penal flames of hell. woe; Behind this dungeon's dripping wall she
The evil one,
In pitiless wrath, lies, Frenzy the crime for which her blood
Roars for his prey.
Faust. (alorid) Margaret ! Margaret !. must flow. Traitor, thou darest not enter in
Marg. (starting) That was his voice ! To face the witness of thy sin.
She springs up ; her chains fall of. Forward ! thy cowardice draws down Where is he? for I know 'twas he. the blow.
None, none shall stay me; I am free! Marg. (within) sings. Now shame on "Tis to his bosom I will fiy, . my mother,
In his embraces I will lie.
His Margaret he calls, on the threshold he And foul fall my father
stands, Who pursed me in spite.
'Mid the laughter and howls of the fiend. Faust. (unlocking the door.) She dreams ish bands';
not that her lover hears the strain, Through the shouts of their malice, their The straw's sad rustling, and the clinking hissings of scorn, chain.
How sweetly his voice of affection was Marg. (hiding herself in the straw on borne !" which she lies.)
Faust. 'Tis 1. Woe, woe! they wake me! bitter fate! Marg. Oh, say it, say it, once again, Faust. Hush, hush! I come to give thee My friend, my lover! Where is now my
means to fly. Marg. Art thou a man? then be com- Where is my chain, my dungeon, and my passionate.
grave ? Fanst. Soft! thou wilt wake thy jailers He comes himself to comfort and to save. with that cry.
I see the church's aisle, the street, (He seizes the chains to unlock then. Where first we dared to gaze, to meet :
The garden blooms before me now,
Marg. To wander with you ?
Marg. To death! I know it-1 preMarg: Oh, not so fast!
pareTime is with you so sweetly past.
I come; the grave is yawning there! Faust. Haste, Margaret, haste !
The grave, no farther—'tis our journey's For, if thou lingerest here,
end. We both shall pay it dear.
You part. Oh! could I but your steps atMarg. What, thou canst kiss no more! Away so short a time as this,
Faust. You can ! But wish it, and the And hast so soon forgot to kiss !
deed is done. Why are my joys less ardent than they Marg. I may not with you ; hope for were ?
me is none ! Once in those folding arms I loved to How can I fly? They glare upon me still !
It is so sad to beg the wide world through, Clung to that breast, and deem'd my hea. And with an evil conscience too! ven was there,
It is so sad to roam through stranger lands, Till, scarce alive, I almost long'd to And they will seize me with their iron die !
hands! Those lips are cold, and do not move, Faust. I will be with you. Alas! unkind, unkind !
Marg. Quick! Ay ! Hast thou left all thy love,
Save it, or the child will die ! Thy former love, behind ?
Through the wild wood, Faust. Follow me! follow, Margaret! To the pond ! be not slow :
It lifts its head!
One step, and thou art free!
Marg. Had we but pass'd the hillside Marg. Thou shalt burst my chain,
lone And lay me in thy folding arms again. My mother there sits on a stone. How comes it, tell me, thou canst bear my Long she has sat there, cold and dead, sight?
Yet nodding with her weary head. Know'st thou to whom thou bring'st the Yet wioks not, nor signs, other motion is means of light ?
o'er; Faust. Come, come ! I feel the morn. She slept for so long, that she wakes no ing breeze's breath.
more. Marg. This hand was guilty of a mo. Faust. Since words are vain to rouse thy ther's death!
sleeping sense, I drown'd my child! And thou canst tell, I venture, and with force I bear thee hence. If it was mine, 'twas thine as well.
Marg. Unhand me! leave me! I will I scarce believe, though so it seem
not consent ! Give me thy hand—I do not dream
Too much I yielded once! too much reThat dear, dear hand. Alas, that spot !
pent! Wipe it away, the purple clot!
Faust. Day! Margaret, day! your hour What hast thou done? Put up thy sword; will soon be past. It was thy Margaret's voice implored. Marg. True, 'tis the day; the last Faust. Oh Margaret ! let the hour be the last! past;
My bridal day !_'twill soon appear. Forget it, or I breathe my last.
Tell it to none thou hast been here. Marg. No ; you must live till I shall We shall see one another, and soon shall trace
In the crowded street:
They talk together-I hear them not :
The bell has toll'd—the wand they break-
The neck of each spectator there 'Twere bliss with him in death to lie, Thrills, as though itself would feel Which, on this earth, my foes deny, The headsman's stroke_thesweeping steel! "Tis all in vain-you will not mind, And all are as dumb, with speechless pain, And yet you look so good, so kind.
As if they never would speak again ! Faust. Then be persuaded—come with Faust." Oh, had I never lived ! • me.
Mephistopheles (appears in the doorway)
Off! or your life will be but short; that vulgar and petulant sneering, with My coursers paw the ground, and snort! which the gentlemen of the press are The sun will rise, and off they bound. ever ready to insult the first appearMarg. Who is it rises from the ground !
ance of a gentleman-still more of a *Tis he!--the evil one of hell !
nobleman. But all this will be of no What would he where the holy dwell ? 'Tis me he seeks !
avail. He has a right to be tried by Faust. To bid thee live.
his literary peers, and from their deciMarg. Justice of Heaven! to thee my
sion he has no reason to shrink. Mr soul I give!
Coleridge himself will not now dream Meph. (to Faust.)
of translating the Faust-another hand Come! come! or tarry else with her to die. has done almost all that could be done Marg. Heaven, I am thine! to thy em even by him; and the English public brace I fly!
may congratulate themselves upon the Hover around, ye angel bands!
possession of one more work worthy to Save me! defy him where he stands.
be associated with Coleridge's WalHenry, I shudder ! 'tis for thee.
lenstein-worthy of being placed above Meph. She is condemn'd!
even the best of Mr Gillies's translaVoices from above. Is pardon'd ! Meph. (to Faust.) Hence, and flee!
tions from the German theatre—and (Vanishes with Faust. wort
worthy of being placed above them Mare. (From within.) Henry! Henry! for this one plain, simple reason--that
Goethe is what Müller, Grillparzer, We notice that Lord F. Gower has and Oehlenshlaeger aspire to be and given but a very mutilated version of may perhaps be ere they die ; but certhe May-day night scene. This was tainly have not as yet shewn themwrong in every point of view. It de selves to be. We hope this splendid stroys the poem of Goethe; and, if his example will not be lost upon Mr Lordship thought, (which he probably Gillies. We earnestly hope he will did, and certainly might well do,) that turn seriously to the true masterpieces be could not outstep Shelley in this of German genius, and not meddle why not adopt the fragment at once? with the pupils, however meritorious, We trust this may yet be done. As it until their great, and we half fear, is, Lord Francis has produced a work inimitable masters have been exhaustwhich must at once give him a place, ed. Let him give us the BRIDE OF and no mean one, among the literary MESSINA-or the WILLIAM TELLmen of his time. He must prepare or the EGMONT, and take his place himself for encountering something of where he is entitled to be.
Most of our readers must have seen enemies' troops, inspired the Emperor the print of Gérard's picture of the bate at the moment with the idea of the tle of Austerlitz-indeed it is on many picture, afterwards executed by Géa snuff-box. They may remember the rard." cavalry officer, who, with his hat off, Rapp was a native of Alsace ; he and sabre broken, is galloping up to early distinguished himself under DeNapoleon, who receives him, sur saix, and was taken notice of by that rounded by his suite. This is no talented general. He soon rose to faother than the author of the autobio. vour under Napoleon, whose esteem graphical volume now before us, the at times, and whose suspicion and disGeneral Rapp himself. He was re- pleasure, at others, he won by a militurning from the decisive charge which tary frankness and bluntness of speech. he had led in person, and which decided Whenever any of Rapp's friends fell the day. “My sabre half broken," into disgrace with Napoleon, the blunt says he, “ my wound, the blood with Alsacian was sure to shew it by some which I was covered, the decisive ad- expression of spleen or ill-timed exvantage gained over the choice of the postulations. And he thus became
• Mémoires du Général Rapp, Aide-de-camp de Napoléon écrits par lui-même. Paris et Londres, 1823.