The Poems of Schiller — Third period
sea, and the star's shining field,—    So he, on the moments, as onward they roll, The image can stamp of the infinite whole. From the earliest age of the world he has come, When nations rejoiced in their prime; A wanderer glad, he has still found a home With every race through all time. Four ages of man in his lifetime have died, And the place they once held by the fifth is supplied. Saturnus first governed, with fatherly smile, Each day then resembled the last; Then flourished the shepherds, a race without guile Their bliss by no care was o'ercast, They loved,—and no other employment they had, And earth gave her treasures with willingness glad.     Then labor came next, and the conflict began With monsters and beasts famed in song; And heroes upstarted, as rulers of man, And the weak sought the aid of the strong. And strife o'er the field of Scamander now reigned, But beauty the god of the world still remained. At length from the conflict bright victory sprang, And gentleness blossomed from might; In heavenly chorus the Muses then sang, And figures divine saw the light;—    The age that acknowledged sweet phantasy's sway Can never return, it has fleeted away. The gods from their seats in the heavens were hurled, And their pillars of glory o'erthrown; And the Son of the Virgin appeared in the world For the sins of mankind to atone. The fugitive lusts of the sense were suppressed, And man now first grappled with thought in his breast. Each vain and voluptuous charm vanished now, Wherein the young world took delight; The monk and the nun made of penance a vow, And the tourney was sought by the knight. Though the aspect of life was now dreary and wild, Yet love remained ever both lovely and mild. An altar of holiness, free from all stain, The Muses in silence upreared; And all that was noble and worthy, again In woman's chaste bosom appeared; The bright flame of song was soon kindled anew By the minstrel's soft lays, and his love pure and true. And so, in a gentle and ne'er-changing band, Let woman and minstrel unite; They weave and they fashion, with hand joined to hand, The girdle of beauty and right. When love blends with music, in unison sweet, The lustre of life's youthful days ne'er can fleet. 

           THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT. The clouds fast gather, The forest-oaks roar—       A maiden is sitting Beside the green shore,—    The billows are breaking with might, with might, And she sighs aloud in the darkling night, Her eyelid heavy with weeping.        "My heart's dead within me, The world is a void;       
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