Classic and Contemporary Poetry
GERMANY; A WINTER TALE: CAPUT 4, by HEINRICH HEINE Poet's Biography First Line: Twas late at night when I reach'd cologne Last Line: His foolish fond subjects, the poor men! Subject(s): Cologne, Germany; Courts & Courtiers; Legends; Luther, Martin (1483-1546); Royal Court Life; Royalty; Kings; Queens | ||||||||
'TWAS late at night when I reach'd Cologne, The Rhine was past me rushing, The air of Germany on me breath'd, And I felt its influence gushing Upon my appetite. I ate Some omelets, together with bacon; And as they were salt, some Rhenish wine Was by me also taken. The Rhenish wine gleams like very gold, When quaff'd from out a green rummer; If thou drink'st a few pints in excess, 'twill give Thy nose the colour of summer. So sweet a tickling attacks the nose, One's sensations grow fonder and fonder; It drove me out in the darkening night, Through the echoing streets to wander. The houses of stone upon me gazed, As if wishing to tell me the mysteries And legends of times that have long gone by, -- The town of Cologne's old histories. Yes, here it was that the clergy of yore Dragg'd on their pious existence; Here ruled the dark men, whose story's preserved By Ulrich von Hutten's assistance. 'Twas here that the nuns and monks once danced In mediaeval gyrations, Here Cologne's own Menzel, Hoogstraaten by name, Wrote his bitter denunciations. 'Twas here that the flames of the funeral pile Both books and men once swallow'd; The bells rang merrily all the while, And Kyrie Eleison follow'd. Stupidity here and spitefulness Like dogs in the street coquetted; In religious hatred the brood still exists, Though greatly to be regretted, But see, where the moonlight yonder gleams, A form of a monstrous sort is! As black as the devil it rears its head, -- Cologne Cathedral in short 'tis. 'Twas meant a bastile of the spirit to be, And the cunning papists bethought them: "In this prison gigantic shall pine away "German intellects, when we have caught them." Then Luther appear'd, and soon by his mouth A thundering "Halt!" was spoken. Since then the Cathedral no progress has made In building, the charm being broken. It never was finish'd, and this is as well, For its very non-termination A monument makes it of German strength And Protestant reformation. Ye Cathedral-Society's members vain, With powerless hands have ye risen To continue the work that so long has been stopp'd, And complete the ancient prison. O foolish delusion! In vain will ye shake The money-boxes so bootless, And beg of the Jews and heretics too, -- Your labour is idle and fruitless. In vain will Liszt on behalf of the fund Make concerts all the fashion, And all in vain will a talented king Declaim with impetuous passion. Cologne Cathedral will finish'd be ne'er, Although the Swabian Solons Have sent a shipload full of stones To help it, nolens volens. 'Twill ne'er be completed, despite all the cries Of the ravens and owls without number, Who, full of antiquarian lore, In high church-steeples slumber. Indeed, the time will by-and-by come, When instead of completing it rightly, The inner space as a stable will serve For horses, -- a change but unsightly. "And if the cathedral a stable becomes, "Pray tell us how they will then tackle "The three holy kings who rest there now, "Within the tabernacle?" Thus ask they. But why should we, in these days, Stand up as their supporters? The three holy kings from the Eastern land Must find some other quarters. Take my advice, and place them all In those three iron cages That high upon St. Lambert's tower At Munster have hung for ages. If one of the three should missing be, Select in his stead some other; Replace the king of the Eastern land By some regal Western brother. The king of the tailors sat therein With his two advisers by him; But we will employ the cages now For monarchs who greatly outvie him. On the right Balthasar shall have his place, On the left shall be Melchior's station, In the midst shall be Gaspar. I know not what When alive, was their right situation. The Holy Alliance from out of the East, Now canonised so duly, Perchance has not always its mission fulfill'd Quite properly and truly. Balthasar perchance and Melchior too Were men of but weak resolution, Who promised, when sorely press'd from without, Their kingdom a constitution, And afterwards broke their word. -- Perchance King Gaspar, who reign'd o'er the Moormen, Rewarded with black ingratitude His foolish fond subjects, the poor men! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOTHWELL: PART 4 by WILLIAM EDMONSTOUNE AYTOUN IN PHARAOH'S TOMB by HAYDEN CARRUTH FOR THE INVESTITURE by CECIL DAY LEWIS ELEGY ASKING THAT IT BE THE LAST; FOR INGRID ERHARDT, 1951-1971 by NORMAN DUBIE L,ENVOI: IN OUR TIME by ERNEST HEMINGWAY VASHTI by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON LINES ON CARMEN SYLVA by EMMA LAZARUS TO CARMEN SYLVA (QUEEN OF ROUMANIA) by EMMA LAZARUS |
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