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"Ihr Matten lebt wohl, Ihr sonnigen Waiden, Der Senne muss scheiden, Die Sommer ist bin." And yet the summer did not carry everything away with it.
The accompaniment of the ode is throughout in keeping with the rhapsodical character of the words and melody: note the long, persistent A of the first and second violins in octaves at the words "des kuehnsten Muthes Koenigin, des Weltenwerdens Waltering," followed by their joyous upward flight; the broken chords of the harp; the swelling upward semitones of flute, oboe, and clarinet bringing forth the germ of No. 11b.; the trombone chords at the words "Leben und Tod sind unterthan ihr"; the arpeggio accompaniment of the violas, and the wonderfully poetic climax at the end, "des Todes Werk ... Frau Minne hat es meiner Macht entwandt."
It is, after all, a blessing that, in these revolutionary times, there should be one country where abstract Thought can still take shelter; that while the din and frenzy of Catholic Emancipations, and Rotten Boroughs, and Revolts of Paris, deafen every French and every English ear, the German can stand peaceful on his scientific watch-tower; and, to the raging, struggling multitude here and elsewhere, solemnly, from hour to hour, with preparatory blast of cow-horn, emit his Horet ihr Herren und lasset's Euch sagen; in other words, tell the Universe, which so often forgets that fact, what o'clock it really is.
I observe in you, Richie, an extraordinary deficiency of memory. She has had an illness; Neptune speed her recovery! Now for a turn at our German. Die Strassen ruhen; die Stadt schlaft; aber dort, siehst Du, dort liegt das blaue Meer, das nimmer-schlafende! She is gazing on it, and breathing it, Richie. Ach! ihr jauchzende Seejungfern. On my soul, I expect to see the very loveliest of her sex!
We quickly impute to them more virtue than their ways betoken; and when in their lusty final song they break out in a strain of lofty idealism: Und setzet ihr nicht das Leben ein, Nie wird euch das Leben gewonnen sein, one is hardly conscious of the incongruity. The dramatic fable devised by Schiller for the tragedy proper carries us back to the winter of 1634.
At the inn that evening he saw Mrs. Knollys with swollen eyes; and remembering the scene of the afternoon, he made inquiries about her of the innkeeper. The latter had heard the guide's account of the meeting; and as soon as Zimmermann had made plain what he had told her of the falling body, "Triple blockhead!" said he. "Es war ihr Mann."
It's a mighty good book to get the ICH HABE GEHABT HABEN's out of. But I don't really study when I'm knocking around this way. If the notion takes me, I just run over my little old ICH HABE GEHABT, DU HAST GEHABT, ER HAT GEHABT, WIR HABEN GEHABT, IHR HABEN GEHABT, SIE HABEN GEHABT kind of 'Now-I-lay-me-down-to-sleep' fashion, you know, and after that, maybe I don't buckle to it for three days.
Another item of the programme was a sort of automatic machine, which, when a gold medal was placed in the slot, would perform "Der gesang an Ihr," the song to her meaning, of course, Madame Parlaghy. The joke, I need hardly say, consisted in the parodying of the title of the emperor's musical composition "Sang am Aegir!"
O ihr Himmelsaugen droben, Weint euch aus in meine Seele, Dass von lichten Sternentranen Uberfliesset meine Seele! Heine. They rose, fluttered a moment above the lilac bushes, and then shot forward like the curve of a rainbow into the sleeping house. The next second they stood beside the bed of the Widow Jequier.
I dare say there is not a single geranium in the garden. All hands on deck to pipe a farewell: 'Ihr Matten, lebt wohl, Ihr sonnigen Weiden Der Senne muss scheiden, Der Sommer ist hin. Farewell to the blue mountains of Newcastle, and the sunlit valleys of Liverpool, and the silver waterfalls of Leeds; the summer is indeed over; and a very nice and pleasant summer we have had of it."
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