STANZAS FROM CALDERON'S CISMA DE INGLATERRA. TRANSLATED BY MEDWIN AND CORRECTED BY SHELLEY. 1 I. HAST thou not seen, officious with delight, Move through the illumined air about the flower, Till kindle in that monumental fire His sunflower wings their own funereal pyre? II. My heart its wishes trembling to unfold, Thus round the Rose and Taper hovering came, Smothered awhile, but could not quench the flame, 1 In Medwin's Life of Shelley, Vol. II, p. 14, we read as follows: "We also read a tragedy of Calderon's, which, though it cannot compete with Shakspeare's Henry the VIII. contains more poetry-the Cisma D'Ingalaterra [sic]. Shelley was much struck with the characteristic Fool, who plays a part in it, and deals in fables, but more so with the octave stanzas (a strange metre in a drama, to choose,) spoken by Carlos, Enamorado di [sic] Anna Bolena, whom he had met at Paris, during her father's embassy. So much did Shelley admire these stanzas, that he copied them out into one of his letters to 1 Mrs. Gisborne, of the two last of which These stanzas appear in the volume of Medwin's verses which contains the Ugolino: see note 1, p. 244; but there, there are eleven stanzas, many of them of high merit, and not unsuggestive of Shelley's cooperation. There are but slight variations in the lines which Medwin ascribes to Shelley. Thus, in line 3 of stanza II, the sense is somewhat changed by the insertion of a comma between And and Passion's; and line 4 ends with beam instead of flame; while, in line ,8, we read lit upon for settled on. SCENES FROM THE FAUST OF GOETHE.1 SCENE I. PROLOGUE IN HEAVEN. The Lord and the Host of Heaven. Enter three Archangels. RAPHAEL. THE sun makes music as of old 1 These scenes were given by Mrs. Shelley in the Posthumous Poems (1824), one of them, the May-Day Night, having previously apppeared in the first number of The Liberal. As indicated in note 1 to the scenes from Calderon (p. 249) the date of this work seems to be the Spring of 1822; and in the letter to Mr. Gisborne from which an extract is made in that note, Shelley proceeds, after expressing his satisfaction with the scenes from Calderon, to speak thus of those from Goethe: "I feel how imperfect a representation, even with all the licence I assume to figure to myself how Goethe would have written in English, my words convey. No one but Coleridge is capable of this work. We have seen here a translation of some scenes, and indeed the most remarkable ones, accompanying those astonishing etchings which have been published in England from a German master. is not bad-and faithful enough-but how weak! how incompetent to represent Faust! I have only attempted the scenes omitted in this translation, It and would send you that of the Walpurgisnacht, if I thought Ollier would place the postage to my account. What etchings those are! I am never satiated with looking at them; and, I fear, it is the only sort of translation of which Faust is susceptible." I It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary to say that the etchings, on the merits of which Shelley dilates considerably in this letter, are those of Retsch. suppose the book alluded to with such very attenuated praise is one entitled Faustus: From the German of Goethe, of which the imprint is "London: Boosey and Sons. 4, Broad-Street, Exchange, and Rodwell & Martin, New Bond-Street, 1821." It is a thin octavo volume, not professing to contain a complete rendering of Faust, but expressly intended as an analysis to accompany Retsch's Outlines. merit is certainly very moderate; and perhaps its only title to be remembered is that fortunate omission of the Prologue in Heaven and most of the Walpurgisnacht, which secured to us Shelley's incomparable translation of those two scenes. Its Draw strength from gazing on its glance, Though none its meaning fathom mayThe world's unwithered countenance Is bright as at creation's day. GABRIEL. And swift and swift, with rapid lightness, With deep and dreadful night; the sea Up to the rocks, and rocks and ocean, Onward, with spheres which never sleep, Are hurried in eternal motion. MICHAEL And tempests in contention roar From land to sea, from sea to land; And, raging, weave a chain of power, Which girds the earth, as with a band. A flashing desolation there, Flames before the thunder's way; But thy servants, Lord, revere The gentle changes of thy day. CHORUS OF THE THREE. The Angels draw strength from thy glance, Thy world's unwithered countenance Is bright as on creation's day.1 5 10 15 20 25 1 RAPHAEL. The sun sounds, according to ancient custom, Fulfils with a step of thunder. Enter MEPHISTOPHELES. MEPHISTOPHELES. As thou, O Lord, once more art kind enough To interest thyself in our affairs— And ask, "How goes it with you there below?" And as indulgently at other times Thou tookest1 not my visits in ill part, Thou seest me here once more among thy household. Its countenance gives the Angels strength Though no one can fathom it. The incredible high works Are excellent as at the first day. GABRIEL. And swift, and inconceivably swift The adornment of earth winds itself round, And exchanges Paradise-clearness With deep dreadful night. The sea foams in broad waves From its deep bottom, up to the rocks, And rocks and sea are torn on together MICHAEL. And storms roar in emulation From sea to land, from land to sea, Of deepest operation round about. But thy servants, Lord, revere CHORUS. Thy countenance gives the Angels strength, Though none can comprehend thee: And all thy lofty works Are excellent as at the first day. 30 35 Such is a literal translation of this astonishing chorus; it is impossible to represent in another language the melody of the versification; even the volatile strength and delicacy of the ideas escape in the crucible of translation, and the reader is surprised to find a caput mortuum. [SHELLEY'S NOTE.] 1 In the Posthumous Poems and all editions known to me except Mr. Rossetti's, we read tookedst for tookest. 2 So in the Posthumous Poems and first edition of 1839, but the in the second. You will excuse me if I do not talk In the high style which they think fashionable; A little better would he live, hadst thou THE LORD. Have you no more to say? Do you come here Seems nothing ever right to you on earth? MEPHISTOPHELES. No, Lord! I find all there, as ever, bad at best. THE LORD. 1 In the Posthumous Poems we read would certainly; but certainly would in the editions of 1839. 2 So in the Posthumous Poems; but beastily in the editions of 1839. Knowest thou Faust? 40 45 50 55 3 I am disposed to think with Mr. Rossetti that the words at best stand here simply through an accidental omission to cancel them, on Shelley's part. |