domingo, 23 de junho de 2013

The Death of Wallenstein by Friedrich Schiller - Apocalypse Thirty Years War: Germany Reduced to Ashes

Johannes Kepler's Wallenstein horoscope (1609)

There exist moments in the life of man,
When he is nearer the great Soul of the world
Than is man's custom, and possesses freely
The power of questioning his destiny:
And such a moment 'twas, when in the night
Before the action in the plains of Luetzen,
Leaning against a tree, thoughts crowding thoughts,
I looked out far upon the ominous plain.
My whole life, past and future, in this moment
Before my mind's eye glided in procession,
And to the destiny of the next morning
The spirit, filled with anxious presentiment,
Did knit the most removed futurity.
Then said I also to myself, "So many
Dost thou command. They follow all thy stars,
And as on some great number set their all
Upon thy single head, and only man
The vessel of thy fortune.

Yet a day
Will come, when destiny shall once more scatter
All these in many a several direction:
Few be they who will stand out faithful to thee."
I yearned to know which one was faithfulest
Of all, my camp included. Great destiny,
Give me a sign! And he shall be the man,
Who, on the approaching morning, comes the first
To meet me with a token of his love:
And thinking this, I fell into a slumber,
Then midmost in the battle was I led
In spirit. Great the pressure and the tumult!
Then was my horse killed under me: I sank;
And over me away, all unconcernedly,
Drove horse and rider—and thus trod to pieces
I lay, and panted like a dying man;

Then seized me suddenly a savior arm;
It was Octavio's—I woke at once,
'Twas broad day, and Octavio stood before me.
"My brother," said he, "do not ride to-day
The dapple, as you're wont; but mount the horse
Which I have chosen for thee. Do it, brother!
In love to me. A strong dream warned me so."
It was the swiftness of this horse that snatched me
From the hot pursuit of Bannier's dragoons.
My cousin rode the dapple on that day,
And never more saw I or horse or rider.

That was a chance.

WALLENSTEIN (significantly).
There's no such thing as chance
And what to us seems merest accident
Springs from the deepest source of destiny.

Ricarda Huch: Wiegenlied. Aus dem Dreißigjährigen Krieg (1917)

Horch, Kind, horch, wie der Sturmwind weht
Und rüttelt am Erker!
Wenn der Braunschweiger draußen steht,
Der faßt uns noch stärker.
Lerne beten, Kind, und falten fein die Händ',
Damit Gott den tollen Christian von uns wend'!

Schlaf, Kind, Schlaf, es ist Schlafens Zeit,
Ist Zeit auch zum Sterben.
Bist du groß, wird dich weit und breit
die Trommel anwerben.
Lauf ihr nach, mein Kind, her deiner Mutter Rat;
Fällst du in der Schlacht, so würgt dich kein Soldat.

„Herr Soldat, tu mir nichts zu Leid,
Und laß mir mein Leben!“
„Herzog Christian führt uns zum Streit,
Kann kein Pardon geben.
Lassen muß der Bauer mir sein Gut und Hab.
Zahle nicht mit Geld, nur mit dem kühlen Grab.“

Schlaf, Kind, Schlaf, werde stark und groß.
Die Jahre sie rollen;
Folgst bald selber auf stolzem Roß
Herzog Christian dem Tollen.
Wie erschrickt der Pfaff' und wirft sich auf die Knie –
„Für den Bauer nicht Pardon, den Pfaffen aber nie!“

Still, Kind, still, wenn Herr Christian kommt,
Der lehrt dich zu schweigen!
Sei fein still, bis dir selber frommt
Ein Roß zu besteigen.
Sei fein still, dann bringt der Vater bald dir Brot,
Wenn nach Rauch derWind nicht schmeckt,und nicht
der Himmel rot.

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