Friedrich Schiller - Turandot - The Chinese Sphinx

The bloody spectacle your nerves might shake;
The severed head is fastened to a stake.

But hark! yon tantan's loud infernal dinning,
Tells that the tragedy is now beginning.

A monster like this princess should be strangled,
Her body by wild horses torn and mangled.

To all she is not cruelly inclined,
'Tis Man she hates; to women she's most kind.
Within her royal hareem serves my wife,
And with her mistress leads a happy life.
The only fault of Turandot is pride, —
Her many virtues cannot be denied.

Who comes this way?

'Tis Ishmael, the friend
Of him who just has met his tragic end.

His life is o'er! Ah, would the cruel knife
Had struck my worthless self, and spared his life.

Bear up, good friend, I pity you sincerely,
Your master for his love has paid too dearly.
Why did you not dissuade him from the trial —

My prayers he met with kind, but firm denial.
His dying words still echo in mine ear —
"Good friend," he said, "to die I do not fear;
My life's a blank if without her I live.
Speed to my father, – beg him to forgive
His hapless son, who staked his life on one
Whose face is fair, whose heart is cold as stone.
Shew him this portrait: ( takes a miniature from hisbreast ) when its charms he views,
My frenzied love, my rashness he'll excuse."
This said, he clasped the portrait to his breast,
Fond kisses on its icy beauty pressed;
Then bent his head, and closed his eyes,
The death blow fell, and sent him to the skies.

Away, thou false deceit! thou cause of woe,
Th' original I'd trample even so.
To dust I'd grind her tiger heart; – her soul,
I'd send to Eblis' region dark and foul! ( Exit .)

Are you convinced?

I'm perfectly amazed.
How can a painted semblance thus have crazed
So sensible a prince? ( Stoops to pick it up. )

For heaven's sake,
Avoid that picture as you would a snake.

No harm will happen, dear old tutor, sure
From picking up a picture from the floor.
No woman yet has caused my heart to throb, —
Shall painted lines my soul of freedom rob?

Ye gods! an angel's face. Oh ecstacy!

Now, there; he's caught. I knew how it would be!

Beneath this beaming smile, these lustrous eyes,
There cannot lurk a cruel heart of ice.

I tell you she's the wickedest of creatures;
Oh, gaze not on the Syren's fatal features,
More baneful than the Gorgon head, Medusa.

Hush, hush, I will not hear you thus abuse her,
I never saw a face and form diviner;
Her's is not mortal clay, but porcelain China,
Some magic power, some demon, I know not,
Enchains my soul to beauteous Turandot.

These eyes to meet, these rosy lips to kiss,
Who would not hazard all to win such bliss?
My senses reel, my veins are all afire!
Good Barak, help me to my heart's desire.
Her stern ordeal I'll undergo – to solve
Her problems or to die, is my resolve.

Desist from your intention, I conjure you,
Let my remonstrance of this madness cure you.

You speak in vain. My fortune now or never,
Shall be ensured for aye, or lost for ever.
One stroke will end my life, or I shall gain
The fairest woman e'er beheld, and reign
An Emperor of Chang's celestial state.
O smile upon my hopes, benignant Fate!

But tell me, Barak, shall I in divan
Behold the lovely daughter of the Khan?

A spectacle more thrilling now behold,
That head just smitten off. My blood runs cold,
To think that yours may be thus closely shaven.

Nay, fear is not for princes – I'm no craven.

Poor youth, deserving of a better fate.

Sweet prince, renounce th' attempt.

Too late, too late!

I fear you'll fail to guess the Sphinx's riddles.

I'll cut the Gordian knots right down their middles!
I'm not so stupid as some folks suppose;
'Twill not be easy my quick wit to pose.
I fancy I shall come off with éclat ;
But if I fail, it does not matter, pshaw!
If in this enterprise I lose my life,
Present my compliments to your good wife;
My horse be hers, in payment of her trouble.
Heigho! this world's a dream, and life's a bubble!

Reveal my name to none. Nay, do not cry,
You've wept me once before as dead. Goodbye.

Why, what's the matter? You are melancholy.

Oh, help me, wife, restrain this youth's mad folly;
He's off to Peking – means to dare the Sphinx!

He's sure to die – my heart within me sinks!
What put such silly nonsense in your head?
You've got brain fever; bless you, go to bed.

Pray save your breath. My fever needs no nurse
But Turandot's fair hand. Here, take my purse,
I have no farther need of money; for
I either die, or shall become an Emperor.

Dear master, hear me; stay; all, all in vain;
I ne'er shall see his blessèd face again!

You know my stranger-guest? how very funny,
Let's try to catch him, and return his money.

Wife, be not curious; no questions ask,
He's gifted with such mental powers, the task
Of coping with the Sphinx he may achieve —
His doom unto the gods we now must leave.