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This Suabian country vicar, the youngest member of the group about Uhland, lived in the utmost serenity amid the troubles of revolutionary agitation, devoted to his art, turning the common experiences of every day into forms of beauty, or reviving with charming naïveté the romantic figures of medieval poetry.
I did not give up trying to read, as usual, and part of my endeavor that winter was with Schiller, and Uhland, and even Goethe, whose 'Wahlverwandschaften, hardly yielded up its mystery to me. To tell the truth, I do not think that I found my account in that novel.
Spirits twain have crossed with me!" "O, that is beautiful, 'beautiful exceedingly! Who translated it?" "I do not know. I wish I could find him out. It is certainly admirably done; though in the measure of the original there is something like the rocking motion of a boat, which is not preserved in the translation." "And is Uhland always so soothing and spiritual?"
His Trooper's Song is a variation of an old theme and is of great metrical interest in that here, as in Uhland, one may observe how the subtle handling of rhythm, the lengthening or shortening of a line, or the shift of stress, brings with it a corresponding shift of emotion.
This sense of power, inspired by a silent sympathy with the forms of nature, is beautifully described as shown in the free, unconscious instincts of childhood by the poet Uhland, in his ballad of the "Mountain Boy." I have attempted a translation. Salzburg lies on both sides of the Salza, hemmed in on either hand by precipitous mountains.
"Oh!" said our hero valiantly, "when I am a man I mean to write story poems like Schiller and Uhland." "That is right," said the Old King. "Real poets are rare in these days. Even if I appear to them in all my splendour the stupid people merely remark 'a curious cloud formation, and think they know all about it.
It is a story they tell in Rome, where every body is anecdoted, and not always so good-naturedly. One Sunday afternoon we went with some artistic friends to visit the studio of the great German painter, Overbeck; and since I first read Uhland I have known no pleasure so illogical as I felt in looking at this painter's drawings.
Longfellow's "Miles Standish" came out that winter, and I suspect that I got vastly more real pleasure from that one poem of his than I found in all my German authors put together, the adored Heine always excepted; though certainly I felt the romantic beauty of 'Uhland, and was aware of something of Schiller's generous grandeur.
It is not my turn for some time, I hope. Perhaps Miss Cathcart will be tired of the whole affair, before it comes round to me again." "Then I shall deserve to be starved of stories all the rest of my life," answered Adela, laughing. "If you will allow me, then," said Harry, "I will give you a parable, called The Lost Church, from the German poet, Uhland."
The Jordan has been distinguished in Holy Writ especially; Horner has celebrated the Xanthus and Simois, and Horace the tawny Tiber; the rivers of Spain have been painted by Calderon, Lope de Vega and Aldana; the Rhine and its legends sang of by Uhland and Goethe and Schiller not to speak of the fabled Nile, as it was in the days of Sesostris, when Herodotus wrote of it; and the Danube, the Po, and the Arno, all rivers of the old world, that have been described by a thousand poets.
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