2009 October

[Goethe began to write an opera called Lowenstuhl,
founded upon the old tradition which forms the subject of this Ballad,
but he never carried out his design.]

OH, enter old minstrel, thou time-honour’d one!
We children are here in the hall all alone,

The portals we straightway will bar.
Our mother is praying, our father is gone

To the forest, on wolves to make war.
Oh sing us a ballad, the tale then repeat,

‘Till brother and I learn it right;
We long have been hoping a minstrel to meet,

For children hear tales with delight.

“At midnight, when darkness its fearful veil weaves,
His lofty and stately old castle he leaves,

But first he has buried his wealth.
What figure is that in his arms one perceives,

As the Count quits the gateway by stealth?
O’er what is his mantle so hastily thrown?

What bears he along in his flight?
A daughter it is, and she gently sleeps on”–

The children they hear with delight.< br>
“The morning soon glimmers. the world is so wide,
In valleys and forests a home is supplied,

The bard in each village is cheer’d.
Thus lives he and wanders, while years onward glide,

And longer still waxes his beard;
But the maiden so fair in his arms grows amain,

‘Neath her star all-protecting and bright,
Secured in the mantle from wind and from rain–”

The children they hear with delight.

“And year upon year with swift footstep now steals,
The mantle it fades, many rents it reveals,

The maiden no more it can hold.
The father he sees her, what rapture he feels!

His joy cannot now be controll’d.
How worthy she seems of the race whence she springs,

How noble and fair to the sight!
What wealth to her dearly-loved father she brings!”–

The children they hear with delight.

“Then comes there a princely knight galloping by,
She stretches her hand out, as soon as he’s nigh,

But alms he refuses to give.
He seizes her hand, with a smile in his eye:

‘Thou art mine!’ he exclaims, ‘while I live!’
‘When thou know’st,’ cries the old man, ‘the treasure that’s
there,

A princess thou’lt make her of right;
Betroth’d be she now, on this spot green and fair–’”

The children they hear with delight.

“So she’s bless’d by the priest on the hallowed place,
And she goes with a smiling but sorrowful face,

From her father she fain would not part.
The old man still wanders with ne’er-changing pace,

He covers with joy his sad heart.
So I think of my daughter, as years pass away,

And my grandchildren far from my sight;
I bless them by night, and I bless them by day”–

The children they hear with delight.

He blesses the children: a knocking they hear,
The father it is! They spring forward in fear,

The old man they cannot conceal–
“Thou beggar, wouldst lure, then, my children so dear?

Straight seize him, ye vassals of steel!
To the dungeon most deep, with the fool-hardy knave!”

The mother from far hears the fight;
She hastens with flatt’ring entreaty to crave–

The children they hear with delight.

The vassals they suffer the Bard to stand there,
And mother and children implore him to spare,

The proud prince would stifle his ire,
‘Till driven to fury at hearing their prayer,

His smouldering anger takes fire:
“Thou pitiful race! Oh, thou beggarly crew!

Eclipsing my star, once so bright!
Ye’ll bring me destruction, ye sorely shall rue!”

The children they hear with affright.

The old man still stands there with dignified mien,
The vassals of steel quake before him, I ween,

The Count’s fury increases in power;
“My wedded existence a curse long has been,

And these are the fruits from that flower!
‘Tis ever denied, and the saying is true,

That to wed with the base-born is right;
The beggar has borne me a beggarly crew,–”

The c hildren they hear with affright.

“If the husband, the father, thus treats you with scorn,
If the holiest bonds by him rashly are torn,

Then come to your father–to me!
The beggar may gladden life’s pathway forlorn,

Though aged and weak he may be.
This castle is mine! thou hast made it thy prey,

Thy people ’twas put me to flight;
The tokens I bear will confirm what I say”–

The children they hear with delight.

“The king who erst govern’d returneth again,
And restores to the Faithful the goods that were ta’en,

I’ll unseal all my treasures the while;
The laws shall be gentle, and peaceful the reign”–

The old man thus cries with a smile–
“Take courage, my son! all hath turned out for good,

And each hath a star that is bright,
Those the princess hath borne thee are princely in blood,”–

The children thy hear with delight.

1816.

She said yes, yes to her God
when asked to carry the Son
to be mother to her savior, our savior
not fearful as she must have been
but certain, confident, in the angel’s words
the love of the God of Israel
She said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord;
let it be with me according to your word”
She became mother to us all, as He is our brother
Our redeemer, our savior too
Because she accepted the blessing

December 6, 2006 7:23
Luke 1:26-56

They let me in. I went right up to the nursery
and climbed into the crib, and assumed the famous
fetal position.

They didn’t know what to make of it. They stood
by the crib looking down at me.

They were young. This was their house. Instead
of an infant, a grown man is in the nursery.

Of course they hadn’t planned on anything like
this. It never occurred to them that anything
like this could happen.

I had made my move. All I could do was to keep
the position, pretending to sleep . . .

We decided to have the abortion, became
killers together. The period that came
changed nothing. They were dead, that young couple
who had been for life.
As we talked of it in bed, the crash
was not a surprise. We went to the window,
looked at the crushed cars and the gleaming
curved shears of glass as if we had
done it. Cops pulled the bodies out
Bloody as births from the small, smoking
aperture of the door, laid them
on the hill, covered them with blankets that soaked
through. Blood
began to pour
down my legs into my slippers. I stood
where I was until they shot the bound
form into the black hole
of the ambulance and stood the other one
up, a bandage covering its head,
stained where the eyes had been.
The next morning I had to kneel
an hour on that floor, to clean up my blood,
rubbing with wet cloths at those glittering
translucent spots, as one has to soak
a long time to deglaze the pan
when the feast is over.

In a back room a man is performing an autopsy
on an old raincoat.
His wife appears in the doorway with a candle
and asks, how does it go?
Not now, not now, I’m just getting to the lining,
he murmurs with impatience.
I just wanted to know if you found any blood clots?
Blood clots?!
For my necklace . . .

When my love did what I would not, what I would not,
I could hear his merry voice upon the wind,
Crying, “e;Fairest, shut your eyes, for see you should not.
Love is blind!”

When my love said what I say not, what I say not,
With a joyous laugh he quieted my fears,
Whispering, “Fairest, hearken not, for hear you may not.
Hath Love ears?”

When my love said, “Will you longer let me seek it?
Blind and deaf is she that doth not bid me come!”
All my heart said murmuring, “Dearest, can I speak it?
Love is dumb!

I began with Sir William Hamilton’s lectures.
Then studied Dugald Stewart;
And then John Locke on the Understanding,
And then Descartes, Fichte and Schelling,
Kant and then Schopenhauer –
Books I borrowed from old Judge Somers.
All read with rapturous industry
Hoping it was reserved to me
To grasp the tail of the ultimate secret,
And drag it out of its hole.
My soul flew up ten thousand miles,
And only the moon looked a little bigger.
Then I fell back, how glad of the earth!
All through the soul of William Jones
Who showed me a letter of John Muir.

If she met him or he met her,
I knew that something must occur;
For they were just like flint and steel
To strike the spark of woe and weal;
Or like two splinters broken fine,
In perfect fitness to combine;
And so I ept them well apart,
For she was precious to my heart.
One time we all three met at church
I tried to give the lad the lurch,
But heard him say: “How like a rose!
is it your daughter , I suppose?”
“Why no,” said I; “My wife to be,
And sic months gone wi’ child is she.”
He looked astonished and distraught:
My boy, that’s one for you I thought.

The wife asked: “What a handsome lad!
A sailor . . .” Somehow she looked sad;
And then his memory grew dim,
For nevermore she mentioned him.
And as I be nigh twice her age
I’ve always thought it mighty sage,
Lest she might one day go astray,
To keep her in the breeding way.

Oh did she ever dream of Jack?
The boy who nevermore came back,
And never will, I heard that he
Was drowned in the China Sea.

I told her not, lest she be sad,
And me? It’s mean, but I was glad;
For if he’s come into my life
He would have robbed me of my wife.

But when at night by her I lie,
And in her sleep I hear her sigh,
I have a doubt if I did well
In separating Jack and Nell.
And though we have a brood of seven,
Yet marriage may be made in Heaven:
For Nell has cancer, Doctors state,
So maybe ’tis the way of fate
That in the end them two may mate.

This rich Marble doth enterr
The honour’d Wife of Winchester,
A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir,
Besides what her vertues fair
Added to her noble birth,
More then she could own from Earth.
Summers three times eight save one
She had told, alas too soon,
After so short time of breath,
To house with darknes, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Bin as compleat as was her praise,
Nature and fate had had no strife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The Virgin quire for her request
The God that sits at marriage feast;
He at their invoking came
But with a scarce-wel-lighted flame;
And in his Garland as he stood,
Ye might discern a Cipress bud.
Once had the early Matrons run
To greet her of a lovely son,
And now with second hope she goes,
And calls Lucina to her throws;
But whether by mischance or bla me
Atropos for Lucina came;
And with remorsles cruelty,
Spoil’d at once both fruit and tree:
The haples Babe before his birth
Had burial, yet not laid in earth,
And the languisht Mothers Womb
Was not long a living Tomb.
So have I seen som tender slip
Sav’d with care from Winters nip,
The pride of her carnation train,
Pluck’t up by som unheedy swain,
Who onely thought to crop the flowr
New shot up from vernall showr;
But the fair blossom hangs the head
Side-ways as on a dying bed,
And those Pearls of dew she wears,
Prove to be presaging tears
Which the sad morn had let fall
On her hast’ning funerall.
Gentle Lady may thy grave
Peace and quiet ever have;
After this thy travail sore
Sweet rest sease thee evermore,
That to give the world encrease,
Shortned hast thy own lives lease;
Here besides the sorrowing
That thy noble Hou se doth bring,
Here be tears of perfect moan
Weept for thee in Helicon,
And som Flowers, and som Bays,
For thy Hears to strew the ways,
Sent thee from the banks of Came,
Devoted to thy vertuous name;
Whilst thou bright Saint high sit’st in glory,
Next her much like to thee in story,
That fair Syrian Shepherdess,
Who after yeers of barrennes,
The highly favour’d Joseph bore
To him that serv’d for her before,
And at her next birth much like thee,
Through pangs fled to felicity,
Far within the boosom bright
of blazing Majesty and Light,
There with thee, new welcom Saint,
Like fortunes may her soul acquaint,
With thee there clad in radiant sheen,
No Marchioness, but now a Queen.

They have watered the street,
It shines in the glare of lamps,
Cold, white lamps,
And lies
Like a slow-moving river,
Barred with silver and black.
Cabs go down it,
One,
And then another.
Between them I hear the shuffling of feet.
Tramps doze on the window-ledges,
Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks.
The city is squalid and sinister,
With the silver-barred street in the midst,
Slow-moving,
A river leading nowhere.
Opposite my window,
The moon cuts,
Clear and round,
Through the plum-coloured night.
She cannot light the city;
It is too bright.
It has white lamps,
And glitters coldly.
I stand in the window and watch the moon.
She is thin and lustreless,
But I love her.
I know the moon,
And this is an alien city.