Ye count the oaths that Terence--may he ne'er, Though buried, calmly slumber!-- Caused you, despite Minelli's notes, to swear,-- Count your wry faces without number. How, when the dread examinations came, The boy with terror shook! How, when the rector had pronounced his name, The sweat streamed down upon his book! All this is now involved in mist forever, The boy is now a man, And Frederick, wiser grown, discloses never What little Fritz once loved to plan. At length--a doctor one's declared to be,-- A regimental one! And then,--and not too soon,--discover we That plans soap-bubbles are alone. [68] Blow on! blow on! and let the bubbles rise, If but this heart remain! And if a German laurel as the prize Of song, 'tis given me to gain! THE WIRTEMBERGER. The name of Wirtemberg they hold To come from Wirth am berg [69], I'm told. A Wirtemberger who ne'er drinks No Wirtemberger is, methinks! THE MOLE. HUSBAND. The boy's my very image! See! Even the scars my small-pox left me! WIFE. I can believe it easily They once of all my senses reft me. HYMN TO THE ETERNAL. 'Twixt the heavens and earth, high in the airy ocean, In the tempest's cradle I'm borne with a rocking motion; Clouds are towering, Storms beneath me are lowering, Giddily all the wonders I see, And, O Eternal, I think of Thee! All Thy terrible pomp, lend to the Finite now, Mighty Nature! Oh, of Infinity, thou Giant daughter! Mirror God, as in water! Tempest, oh, let thine organ-peal God to the reasoning worm reveal! Hark! it peals--how the rocks quiver beneath its growls Zeboath's glorious name, wildly the hurricane howls! Graving the while With the lightning's style "Creatures, do ye acknowledge me?"-- Spare us, Lord! We acknowledge Thee! DIALOGUE. A. Hark, neighbor, for one moment stay! Herr Doctor Scalpel, so they say, Has got off safe and sound; At Paris I your uncle found Fast to a horse's crupper bound,-- Yet Scalpel made a king his prey. B. Oh, dear me, no! A real misnomer! The fact is, he has his diploma; The other one has not. A. Eh? What? Has a diploma? In Suabia may such things be got? EPITAPH ON A CERTAIN PHYSIOGNOMIST. On every nose he rightly read What intellects were in the head And yet--that he was not the one By whom God meant it to be done, This on his own he never read. TRUST IN IMMORTALITY. The dead has risen here, to live through endless ages; This I with firmness trust and know. I was first led to guess it by the sages, The knaves convince me that 'tis really so. APPENDIX OF POEMS ETC. IN SCHILLER'S DRAMATIC WORKS. APPENDIX.