The German Classics, v. 20: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English
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The German Classics, v. 20: Masterpieces of German Literature Translated into English
German literature -- 19th century -- Translations into English; German literature -- 20th century -- Translations into English
MARK (his voice is bitter and despairing).
I, too,
Am glad, for if this morning I appeared
A wreckless youth, a foolish boy who dared
In arrogant presumption to assert
Himself and to rebel against your word,
Forgive me. Passion is the heritage
Of man; his deeds the natural consequence
Of passion. Think ye not the same? And see,
How God, now for the second time, has wrought,
And sternly proved the truth! Is it, perchance,
His will that I should learn unseeingly,
Unquestioningly to revere His stars
On which our actions here on earth depend?
What think ye, sirs? for so it seems to me;
And therefore hath He hid from me that which
Most eagerly I wish to know, so that
Before this veiled uncertainty, my blood
Ran riot in my veins. But from this day
I'll change my mode of life; I will regard
My blindness and His unavoidable
Decree; for wisdom lies in piety,
As says an ancient proverb; hence I will,
From this day on, learn piety that I
Become a very sage for wisdom.
[Goes away.]
A KNIGHT.
Calm
Thyself!
UGRIN (calling to MARK).
Ay, cousin, make thyself a monk!
MARK (turning back).
And I will learn to laugh at God that He
Should give Himself such trouble for a man
Like me--poor fool! Enough! Forgive my wrongs
In friendly wise, as I will overlook
Your sins with all my heart. But, if a man
Grown lately wise may counsel you, sin not;
Your work is the beginning, God's the end.
UGRIN (calling out to him).
Amen.
MARK.
I've broken in upon your game
My friends, and chattered on. Forgive it me;
Resume your play and cups; drink on, I pray.
[He goes over to UGRIN.]
Thy jokes are empty of all wit today,
Ugrin.
UGRIN.
My wit has fallen off, say'st thou?
Decay of time, believe me Mark; for wit
Is wine, and wine is poured into a cup
Of sparkling gold, and not into a crack'd
Old jug, and thou, illustrious cousin, art
Become a broken pot since noon today!
[Hands him his jester's sceptre.]
Here, hit thyself! Behold the ring is gone!
My wit's too precious for a ringless cup.
At Easter tide I'll seek me out as lord
Some jovial soul who loves his wine; who plays
Wild pranks, and gives his wife away when he
Is tired of her!
MARK (sitting down on the stone bench).
Friend Ugrin, I warn
Thee, heed thy tongue!
UGRIN.
Ay, cousin! Ay, 'twere best
Since thou'st forsworn all quarreling!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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