SELECT LIBRARY OF THE GERMAN CLASSICS.

THE ALEXIS AND DORA OF GOETHE.

We find the following remarks upon the ALEXIS AND DORA, in vol. II. of the Correspondence between Goethe and Schiller. "Your Idyl," Schiller writes, having just read it in manuscript, "has affected me no less powerfully on a second reading, or rather still more powerfully, than on the first. Assuredly it is one of your most beautiful compositions; so full of simplicity, at the same time there is in it an unfathomable depth of feeling. Owing to the precipitation of the action, by means of the ship's crew who are waiting for Alexis, the lovers find themselves so pressed for room, their situation becomes so urgent and important, that this one moment does actually contain the sum and substance of a whole life. It would be difficult to conceive any other case in which the flower of poetry can be culled from an object with the same ease and felicity. Your introducing a fit of jeal ousy so immediately after, and making the lover's happiness swallowed up so rapidly in his fears, I have not yet been able to reconcile with my feelings, though I have no convincing objection to allege; I merely feel that I should have liked to prolong the trance of bliss in which Alexis leaves the girl and embarks.

"The admirable passage, Thine forever, thou answerest softly,' does not strike me so much on accouut of its solemnity, which is a matter of course, but because the secret of her heart bursts forth in these little words at once and entirely, with its endless train of consequences. These words in this place serve instead of a whole love-story; and the two lovers stand immediately in the same relation to each other, as if their affection had subsisted for years."

To the remark on the introduction of the passionate fit of jealousy at the close of the poem, Goethe replies: "I am glad that the Idyl does not lose ground on a nearer inspection. For the jealousy at the end I have two reasons; one from nature, because in fact every unmerited success in love is followed at the heels by the fear of losing it; and another from art, because the Idyl has a pathetic character throughout, and therefore the passion must become more intense towards its close, when the poet's parting bow restores the balance and cheerfulness of the whole. Thus much in justification of the inexplicable instinct by which such things are produced."

The attentive student will also observe that the jealous lover does not in reality see, but only fancies the kind reception of a rival; since "the dimness of sad distance" had already "enveloped the town."

In conclusion, we would earnestly bespeak for this highly finished work of art and almost perfect specimen of this species of poetry, the closest attention and study. A single reading may delight, warm and elevate; but this is one of the few poems worthy of being made in the truest sense our own: of being committed-not to the memory, merely, but―to the heart.

ALEXIS AND DORA.

Ah! every moment the vessel is driving incessantly onward!

Over the foam-crested waves further and further it flies.

Still does the keel's track lengthen its furrow, along which the dolphins
Follow it leaping as though chasing their fugitive prey.

All things betoken a prosperous voyage: the boatswain is gently
Righting the sail, which toils blithely that others may rest.

Forward the souls of the mariners speed with the flags and the pennons;

All save one by the mast, fixing his eyes on the shore,

Watching the last blue tints of the hills as they vanish: he sees them

Sink in the ocean; and now all that he joys in is gone.

Now from the two has vanished the vessel that bears thy Alexis,

Bears, O Dora, thy friend, bears thy beloved away.

Thou after me too gazest in vain: our hearts are yet beating
Each for the other; but each presses the other no more.
It was a moment, the first I have really lived in, outweighing
All those years which have crept coldly and dully along.
Yet was it only a moment, a parting moment. My life dawned
Suddenly out of thine eyes, as it were sent from the gods.
Why does thy joyless radiance thus idly illumine the heavens!
Thy all brightening day, Phebus, it sickens my heart.
Backward I'll go and converse with my memory, fondly reviving
Times now gone, when her sight daily enlivened my eyes.
How was it possible e'er to behold yet be blind to her beauty?
How could thy spirit remain dull to her heavenly charms?
Blame not thyself, poor wight! It is thus that a poet will often
Utter a riddle abroad, cunningly setting the words.

All feel pleasure in seeing the posy of sprightly devices ;

Yet they know not the word which will its meaning unfold.

Lo, that word has been found; how at once ev'ry countenance brightens!
That which was pleasing before, donbly delightful has grown.
Wherefore wert thou so tardy in stripping my eyes of the bandage,
Which thou hadst bound on them? Why wert thou so tardy, O Love!
Long had the vessel been laden, and waiting for breezes to waft her;
And now at length they blew right from the land to her stern.

Vain were the days of my youth, most vain were my dreams of the future;
They all crumble apace; nothing endures but one hour.

Yes, it endures, my bliss is enduring: I behold thee, my Dora:

Hope has one image to show; Dora, that image is thine.

Oft had I seen thee repair, in thy maideuly garb, to the temple,
Whilst thy mother would walk solemnly close by thy side.
Early thou hastenedst ever to carry thy fruit to the market.

O how nobly thy head bore up the pitcher on high,

When from the fountain thou camest! how stately thy throat and thy neck rose!

Every motion thou madest, harmony guided them all.

Often I watched, with uneasy alarm, lest the pitcher should tumble;

But on the round striped cloth steadily onward it sailed.

Thus, my beautiful neighbor, I daily was wont to behold thee,

As one beholdeth the stars, or as one looks at the moon.

Gladly we see them again and again; but the bosom is quiet,
Joying contentedly ;-no wish to possess them is felt.

Year after year rolled past me: but twenty paces asunder
Stood our dwellings; and yet ne'er have I entered her door.
Now divides us the wie blank sea. False mirror of Heaven,
Ocean, thy glorious blue is but the color of the night.

All were already in motion: the boy came hastily running

Up to my father's house, bidding me hie to the shore.

Come, they are hoisting the sail, and it flaunts with the breezes, thus spake he; Now, too, the anchor mounts, tearing its fangs from the sand..

Hasten, Alexis, O hasten! On this my excellent father

Gave me his blessing, his hand smoothing the curls on my brow.
Quickly the ready-made bundle was fetched by my anxious mother;

Come back happy, they cried, happy, Alexis, and rich.

Down alongside of the wall ran I: but thou, as I passed,

Stoodest by the gate of thy garden, and saidst with a smile, good Alexis,
Are these screamers on board going to carry thee off?

Far-off coasts thou'lt visit, and bring back costliest treasures,
Jewels of silver and gold, fit for our wealthiest dames.

But bring me, too, I pray thee, a light gold necklace: I'll pay thee
Thankfully for it: my heart often has longed for a chain.

I had arrested my steps; and I asked, in a merchantly manner,
Questions concerning the chain, as to its shape and its weight.
Pensively thou computest the cost: my eyes, in the meanwhile,
Light on a neck that would grace gems such as circle a queen's.
Boisterous cries now mount from the ship: thou saidst to me kiudly,
Wilt thou not, on thy way, take from my garden some fruit?
Take of my mellowest figs, of my juiciest oranges with thee?
Seas bring forth no fruit; many a land, too, has none.

Thus do I enter thy gate; thou busily pluckest the choice fruit;
So that the bright gold load weighs down thy up-gathered gown.
Oft I besought thee, O that is enough! but another still finer
Fruit, yet dropt into thy lap at a touch.

Following thee, I advanced to the arbor; a basket was lying
There, and the myrtle-tree hung blossoming over our heads.
Silently thou arrangest the fruit in the comeliest order,
Laying the heavier gold ball of the orange beneath;
Next the soft pulpt figs that the slightest pressure disfigures;
Lastly the myrtle at top roofing the whole with its green.
Still I did not remove it; I stood. We looked at each other
Full in the eye; and a mist suddenly clouded my sight.
Thy soft bosom I felt it on mine. The neck I had gazed at
Wondering, was clasped by my arm; kiss after kiss from my lips
Fell on thy beautiful throat; thy head now drops on my shoulder;
Now, too, thy fair arms form round me a circle of bliss.
Love's own hands I feel: he presses us firmly together;

And from the clear blue sky thrice does it thunder; then tears
Chasing each other besprinkle my cheeks: thou weepest; I weep: joy
Mingles with pain so, the world seems to be fleeting away.
Cries of impatience resound from the shore: my feet as if fastened
Cling to the ground; I exclaim, Dora, and art thou then mine?'
'Thine for ever!' thou answerest softly. The tears that were trickling
Sparkle and vanish, as though dried by a breath from the gods.
Straightway approaches the cry of Alexis! The boy who was seeking
After me, peeps through the door. How he the basket took up!

How he drove me away! how I covered thy hands with my kisses!
How I arrived at the ship! Surely I seemed to be drunk.

So, too, my comrades deemed me, regarding my sickness with pity.
Shortly the dimness of sad distance enveloped the town.

• Thine forever! O, such was thy whisper! it sounds in my ears still,
Mixed with the thunder of Jove! Yea, and she stood by his throne,
She, his daughter, the Goddess of Love! the sisterly graces
Stood by her side! our vow chimed with the will of the gods!
Hasten, then, hasten my vessel, with all fair winds to befriend thee;
Put forth thy strength, thou keel; cleave through the flood till it foams.
Bear me with speed to thy goal in a far land: so shall the skilful
Goldsmith begin forthwith working the pledge of our loves.
Dora, thy chain shall grow far beyond what thy modesty asked for;
Nine times shall it be wound loosely encircling thy neck.
Jewels besides will I buy thee, the fairest and costliest: golden
Bracelets shall fashion a rich girdle to compass thine arms.

There shall the emerald vie with the ruby; the heavenly-eyed sapphire
Matching the jacinth shall stand over against it; and gold

Closing the bright hued gems shall enweave them in beautiful union.
O, 'tis the bridegroom's prime pleasure to deck out bis bride.
Let me look on a pearl, I shall think upon thee; let a ring shine,
Wooing my sight, thy fair finger will glimmer within.

Barter will I and bargain; whatever is best thou shalt choose out;
If all the cargo were mine, I would bestow it on thee.

Nor shall triukets and jewels be all thy beloved will purchase.
Much that a house-keeping wife joys in, he'll bring thee besides:

Quilts with the goodliest woollen, with bright hide horders of purple,
Fit for the couch where we softly and sweetly may rest;

Fine white linen: I see thee sitting, and sewing, and clothing

Me and thyself, and perhaps also another therewith.

Visions of hope come and quiet me, while you delude me! Ye gods, calm

This tempestuous joy, which is upheaving my heart.

Yet shall I soon claim back these transports of sickening sweetness,

When grief's clay cold hand creeps with its palsying touch.

No, not the Furies' torches, the hell-dog's barking could ever

Scare poor sinners with like force in the land of despair,

As I am scared by the calm cold spectre that shows me my fair one

Far from her lover: the gate, still it is standing ajar:

Lo, and another now enters: for him too the orange is falling;

Nor does the fig-tree deny honeyed refreshment to him.
Him, too, she lures to the arbor! and look, he follows! strike me
Blind, kind gods! blot out memory's treacherous forms.

Is she then anything more than a woman! and she who so lightly
Yielded to one, will scarce close up her heart from the next.
Laugh not this once, great Jove, at a vow so wantonly broken!
Thunder, thou monarch of dread! Strike-but thy lightning withhold;
Shoot out thy rivers of clouds after me! in the darkness of midnight
Let thy glittering bolt smite this unfortunate mast;

Scatter the planks all round; and give to the bellowing waters

All these wares, yea, give me to the dolphins a prey.
Hush, ye muses! enough! in vain do ye labor to show forth
How grief's currents and joys cross in a love-smitten heart.
Powerless are ye for healing the wounds which love has inflicted;
Yet are ye our best friends! none can assuage them but you.

RAMBLES IN CALIFORNIA.

(FROM A NAVY OFFICER'S JOURNAL.)

RAMBLE I.-TWENTY-FOUR HOURS IN SAN FRANCISCO.

IN approaching the coast we looked, with hope of excitement, for the famous rolling grounds" described by so many navigators. At every ripple of unusual magnitude, we fancied that we were entering the bewitched spot, and began holding on to belaying pins, to keep ourselves from rolling overboard. We were disappointed, however, and saw nothing unusual about the coast, except a disagreeable belt of thick fog, from which we soon emerged, and found ourselves in sight of land. In my vexation at being cheated of the sport I had anticipated, I appreciated the feelings of Lord Byron on a similar occasion, when, after "lying-to" a whole night in the vicinity of Stromboli, he found that, for the first time on record, the eruption was not to "go off." It seems that the volcano had got up a little secret session for his especial benefit. In we sailed through the narrow entrance; the sight on either hand was desolate enough. On the southern, most of the bluffs which shut the harbor, a levelled spot, studded by three or four white tents, indicated an incipient fortification; otherwise not a trace of life was in sight, with the exception of a solitary rancho which stood close to the ruins of a once prosperous Mission. We kept on until close up to the island de los Angeles, then bore away to the southward, and found ourselves in full sight of Yerba Buena, the incipient city of San Francisco.

At one glance I surveyed the main features of the landscape before me: a broad expanse of water, perfectly landlocked; bold shores clad in a verdure not of labor's spreading, and a certain undulating scenerynot sublime and yet not soft-strongly North American in its character. I must confess that I had expected more: the beauty of this harbor is of that peculiar kind which requires to be "brought out." Like a Parisian belle it must be dressed. Fifty years hence, when thriving cities shall arise on these shores, when steamers shall plough these waters, and plantations, villages and steeples shall diversify the view, it will have received its proper stamp, and will prove one of the most lovely spots upon the earth. But at present the scenery around me is flat and distasteful to the eye, as it lacks the marked features that make the wilderness either attractive or imposing, and has not yet acquired those softer lineaments which man alone can carve out of this rude block.

The second cutter took a party of eager discoverers ashore. I was one of these. I landed upon a heap of small stones-the infant mole of the infant city-followed a cowpath over a hill, down the same, through a swamp, and saw a house with a written advertisement posted upon it. I approached, and read a notice to the effect that Mrs. B- had left the bed and board of her lawful husband, and that said husband no longer meant to be paymaster for his frail moiety. I read, and a glow of patriotic pleasure tingled all over me; for I knew me once more in Yankee land!