Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The damsel paces along the shore; 25

The billows they tumble with might, with might;

And she flings out her voice to the darksome night;

Her bosom is swelling with sorrow;

The world it is empty, the heart will die,

There’s nothing to wish for beneath the sky: 30

Thou Holy One, call thy child away!

I’ve lived and loved, and that was to-day —

Make ready my grave-clothes tomorrow.

LITERAL TRANSLATION.

Thekla (plays and sings).

The oak-forest bellows, the clouds gather, the damsel walks to and fro

on the green of the shore; the wave breaks with might, with might, and

she sings out into the dark night, her eye discoloured with weeping: the

heart is dead, the world is empty, and further gives it nothing more to

the wish. Thou Holy One, call thy child home. I have enjoyed the

happiness of this world, I have lived and have loved.

I cannot but add here an imitation of this song, with which the author

of The Tale of Rosamond Gray and Blind Margaret has favoured me, and

which appears to me to have caught the happiest manner of our old

ballads.

The clouds are black’ning, the storms threat’ning,

The cavern doth mutter, the greenwood moan;

Billows are breaking, the damsel’s heart aching,

Thus in the dark night she singeth alone,

Her eye upward roving:

The world is empty, the heart is dead surely,

In this world plainly all seemeth amiss;

To thy heaven, Holy One, take home thy little one,

I have partaken of all earth’s bliss,

Both living and loving.

The text of Lamb’s version as printed in Works, 1818, i. 42 is as

follows:

BALLAD.

FROM THE GERMAN.

The clouds are blackening, the storms threatening,

And ever the forest maketh a moan:

Billows are breaking, the damsel’s heart aching,

Thus by herself she singeth alone,

Weeping right plenteously.

The world is empty, the heart is dead surely,

In this world plainly all seemeth amiss:

To thy breast, holy one, take now thy little one,

I have had earnest of all earth’s bliss

Living most lovingly.

Spring, 1800.

The latest, &c. [They not appearing to attend to what she says,

she steps between them.

1800, 1828, 1829.

Table of Contents

COUNTESS (returns), THEKLA.

Countess. Fie, lady niece! to throw yourself upon him,

Like a poor gift to one who cares not for it,

And so must be flung after him! For you,

Duke Friedland’s only child, I should have thought

It had been more beseeming to have shewn yourself 5

More chary of your person.

Thekla. And what mean you?

Countess. I mean, niece, that you should not have forgotten

Who you are, and who he is. But perchance

That never once occurred to you.

Thekla. What then?

Countess. That you’re the daughter of the Prince-Duke Friedland. 10

Thekla. Well — and what farther?

Countess. What? a pretty question!

Thekla. He was born that which we have but become.

He’s of an ancient Lombard family,

Son of a reigning princess.

Countess. Are you dreaming?

Talking in sleep? An excellent jest, forsooth! 15

We shall no doubt right courteously entreat him

To honour with his hand the richest heiress

In Europe.

Thekla. That will not be necessary.

Countess. Methinks ‘twere well though not to run the hazard.

Thekla. His father loves him, Count Octavio 20

Will interpose no difficulty ——

Countess. His!

His father! his! But yours, niece, what of yours?

Thekla. Why I begin to think you fear his father,

So anxiously you hide it from the man!

His father, his, I mean.

Countess (looks at her). Niece, you are false. 25

Thekla. Are you then wounded? O, be friends with me!

Countess. You hold your game for won already. Do not

Triumph too soon! —

Thekla. Nay now, be friends with me.

Countess. It is not yet so far gone.

Thekla. I believe you.

Countess. Did you suppose your father had laid out 30

His most important life in toils of war,

Denied himself each quiet earthly bliss,

Had banished slumber from his tent, devoted

His noble head to care, and for this only,

To make a happy pair of you? At length 35

To draw you from your convent, and conduct

In easy triumph to your arms the man

That chanc’d to please your eyes! All this, methinks,

He might have purchased at a cheaper rate.

Thekla. That which he did not plant for me might yet 40

Bear me fair fruitage of its own accord.

And if my friendly and affectionate fate,

Out of his fearful and enormous being,

Will but prepare the joys of life for me —

Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art.

Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped,

For no espousals dost thou find the walls

Deck’d out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing.

Here is no splendour but of arms. Or think’st thou 50

That all these thousands are here congregated

To lead up the long dances at thy wedding?

Thou see’st thy father’s forehead full of thought,

Thy mother’s eye in tears: upon the balance

Lies the great destiny of all our house. 55

Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling,

O thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof,

Thou’rt the daughter of the Mighty — his

Who where he moves creates the wonderful.

Not to herself the woman must belong, 60

Annexed and bound to alien destinies.

But she performs the best part, she the wisest,

Who can transmute the alien into self,

Meet and disarm necessity by choice;

And what must be, take freely to her heart, 65

And bear and foster it with mother’s love.

Thekla. Such ever was my lesson in the convent.

I had no loves, no wishes, knew myself

Only as his — his daughter — his, the Mighty!

His fame, the echo of whose blast drove to me 70

From the far distance, wakened in my soul

No other thought than this — I am appointed

To offer up myself in passiveness to him.

Countess. That is thy fate. Mould thou thy wishes to it.

I and thy mother gave thee the example. 75

Thekla. My fate hath shewn me him, to whom behoves it

That I should offer up myself. In gladness

Him will I follow.

Countess. Not thy fate hath shewn him!

Thy heart, say rather—’twas thy heart, my child!

Thekla. Fate hath no voice but the heart’s impulses. 80

I am all his! His Present — his alone,

Is this new life, which lives in me. He hath

A right to his own creature. What was I

Ere his fair love infused a soul into me?

Countess. Thou would’st oppose thy father then, should he 85

Have otherwise determined with thy person?

[THEKLA remains silent. The COUNTESS continues.

Thou mean’st to force him to thy liking? — Child,

His name is Friedland.

Thekla. My name too is Friedland.

He shall have found a genuine daughter in me.

Countess. What? he has vanquished all impediment, 90

And in the wilful mood of his own daughter

Shall a new struggle rise for him? Child! child!

As yet thou hast seen thy father’s smiles alone;

The eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child,

I will not frighten thee. To that extreme, 95

I trust, it ne’er shall come. His will is yet

Unknown to me: ‘tis possible his aims

May have the same direction as thy wish.

But this can never, never be his will,

That thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes, 100

Should’st e’er demean thee as a love-sick maiden;