Translations from the German (Vol 3 of 3): Tales by Musæus, Tieck, RichterCarlyle, Thomas
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Translations from the German (Vol 3 of 3): Tales by Musæus, Tieck, Richter
Carlyle, Thomas
German fiction -- Translations into English
The Elf sobbed, leaned her head sorrowfully on his shoulder, and said:
"Beloved husband, in thy absence I have looked into the Book of Destiny;
a doleful chance overhangs my life-tree; I must part from thee forever.
Follow me into the Castle, till I bless my children; for from this day
you will never see me more."
"Dearest wife," said Krokus, "chase away these mournful thoughts. What
misfortune is it that can harm thy tree? Behold its sound boughs, how
they stretch forth loaded with fruit and leaves, and how it raises its
top to the clouds. While this arm can move, it shall defend thy tree
from any miscreant that presumes to wound its stem."
"Impotent defence," replied she, "which a mortal arm can yield! Ants can
but secure themselves from ants, flies from flies, and the worms of
Earth from other earthly worms. But what can the mightiest among you do
against the workings of Nature, or the unalterable decisions of Fate?
The kings of the Earth can heap up little hillocks, which they name
fortresses and castles; but the weakest breath of air defies their
authority, blows where it lists, and mocks at their command. This
oak-tree thou hast guarded from the violence of men; canst thou likewise
forbid the tempest that it rise not to disleaf its branches; or if a
hidden worm is gnawing in its marrow, canst thou draw it out, and tread
it under foot?"
Amid such conversation they arrived at the Castle. The slender maidens,
as they were wont at the evening visit of their mother, came bounding
forth to meet them; gave account of their day's employments, produced
their needlework, and their embroideries, to prove their diligence: but
now the hour of household happiness was joyless. They soon observed that
the traces of deep suffering were imprinted on the countenance of their
father; and they looked with sympathising sorrow at their mother's
tears, without venturing to inquire their cause. The mother gave them
many wise instructions and wholesome admonitions; but her speech was
like the singing of a swan, as if she wished to give the world her
farewell. She lingered with her husband, till the morning-star went up
in the sky; then she embraced him and her children with mournful
tenderness; and at dawn of day retired, as was her custom, through the
secret door, to her oak-tree, and left her friends to their own sad
forebodings.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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