« PredošláPokračovať »
If háppy you would be tomorrow
Todáy must be a day of sorrow,
For Fórtune 's never tired of ranging
And Lúck of all things loves place-changing:
Todáy good luck, tomorrow bad;
Sórry today, tomorrow glad;
Take úp, put down; now none, now all;
So spins teetötum, twirls the ball;
Lúcky, we bless kind Providence,
Unlucky, with no jot more sense
Upbraid the Author of all ill,
For mán must be religious still,
And have his Oberon and his Puck,
Thát for his good, this for his ill luck.
TAUERNHAUS, FEHRLEITEN, at the foot of the Gross-GLOCKNER, July 16, 1854.
The first draught of cold water when you 're thirsty
Is not delicious only but divine,
Bálsam and nectar or whatever more
The gráteful heart can say or think of praise;
The second draught falls short of the delicious,
Though not unpleasant, though even pleasant still ;
The third palls on the taste and you turn from it
Avérse, and will no more, not even one drop;
Fórced to the fourth you swallow with displeasure,
Loathing and pain the odious beverage,
Which, fórced upon you still, becomes at last
Your direst enemy, your deadliest poison,
The water all the while being the same,
And the last draught refreshing as the first,
Hadst thou thyself not in the meantime changed.
Go tó! go tó! ye that an absolute good
Or ábsolute bád find in the outward world
And look not in yourselves for that which makes
The indifferent, outward object good or bad.
ALPnach in the valley of SARNEN, Sept. 23, 1854.
A cát that in a barn the day
Had moúsing spent among the hay
Withoút success, and thought her fast
Was likely now till morn to last,
Spied, with her eyes half closed to sleep,
Out of a hole a fát rat creep
And joyful cried, with claw and fang
As on th' unhoped-for prey she sprang:
“Whó could believe with common sense
There 's no such thing as Providence ?
Whát but a special Providence sent
This fát rat for my nourishment?”
“Ah,” squeaked the rát loud, “it's a good
Providence gives rats to cats for food!”
LICHTENSTEIN in Saxony, June 19, 1854.
“THERE 's nothing like experience” I heard once
An old fy to a young one say, as both
About my study buzzed in the golden sunbeams :
“Only experience teaches what to follow
And whát to shun; only experience guides
In sáfety through th' intricacies of life.
Bút for experience Í had months ago
The préy been of that fell and cunning spider;
Bút for experience' salutary counsel
I'd limed perhaps both foot and wing ere now
In yon pestiferous dish of viscid fly-trap.
List éver to experience, child, and thank God
That he's vouchsáfed us the unerring guide
But áren't you lonely in this wide room here?
Come and let 's pay a visit to the blackbird
That sings so sweetly in the cage in the window.”
“Let 's go by all means if it 's only safe,”
Replied the young fly; "what says your experience ?"
“Nothing on this point; I have never yét been
Inside a blackbird's cage; it 's plain it 's pleasant,
We 'll never younger learn whether it is safe;
Expérience can be got only by trying.”
So said, and through the bars direct they flew,
With cívil buzz of greeting, to the blackbird
Who in the midst of his song made so long pause
As was required to snap at and down swallow
First one and then the other of th' intruders,
Then, táking up his song again, praised God
That only after the evil comes experience.
While travelling with the Postboy from Neustadt to GÉISSENFELD (BAVARIA), July 3, 1854.
“Pshaw!” said a wise, grave moth that, as it fitted
Aboút my candle that same evening, heard me
Télling a friend the story thou 'st just read,
“They were a pair of fools or worse, those flies;
Instinct 's the only guide, the sure safe rule
Supplied to every creature by its kind
And provident creator; never let me,
While I have life, forsake or disobey thee,
Unerring counsellor, monitor and friend;
And whither first?” “Direct into the light
That spreads such bright warm radiance all around.”
“I 'm but too happy” said the moth and into
The fláme flew straight and, in the wick entangled,
Was burned into a cinder on the instant.
IT háppened as a fox and wolf together
Were travelling by the way and both were hungry,
They sáw a man approaching, and to the wolf
Thus said the fox: “Here comes one of those ugly,
Vícious, malignant creatures who for pastime
Hunt wolves and foxes, and assert that God
Made this fair world and all that it contains
For their sole use and interest and profit.
Cóme, let us shew that God has some care too
For wólves and foxes; not that flesh of man
To mé 's particularly sweet or dainty,
And were I not by hunger pressed I 'd hold it
Almost beneath me to defile my blood
With éven the least admixture of the blood
Of the foul, lying, hypocritical monster;
But húnger has no law; so fall thou on him
And teár him to the ground, whilst I keep watch
Lest any of his fellows come to his aid.”
“The counsel 's excellent,” replied the wolf,
“And I 'm quite ready to perform my part;
The more as, unlike you, I find the flesh
Of thát sleek, pampered animal a bónne bouche,
And hold it for mere cowardice in our kind
That they prefer to prey on harmless lambs
And leave their direst and most cruel foe
To ríot as he will, untouched, unpunished.”
He said, and on the man sprang with a howl,
And tóre him down, then called the fox to supper;
And thús both, mocking, said as in his vitals
They fléshed their tusks: “Where 's now the Providence
That made us and all creatures for thy use ?”
PRIMIERO, in the Italian TYROL, July 31,
IF thou would'st lead a quiet life
Respéct my corns, my creed, my wife
Three tender points
and I 'll agree
The sáme points to respect in thee.
ETZELBERG, in the Canton Schwyz, in Switzerland, Sept. 18, 1854.