SCHILLER'S POEMS

By Friedrich Shiller

SUPPRESSED POEMS.

SUPPRESSED POEMS.

     The Journalists and Minos     Bacchus in the Pillory     Spinosa     To the Fates     The Parallel     Klopstock and Wieland     The Muses' Revenge     The Hypochondriacal Pluto (A Romance)        Book I        Book II        Book III     Reproach. To Laura     The Simple Peasant     Actaeon     Man's Dignity     The Messiah     Thoughts on the 1st October, 1781     Epitaph     Quirl     The Plague (A Phantasy)     Monument of Moor the Robber     The Bad Monarchs     The Satyr and My Muse     The Peasants     The Winter Night     The Wirtemberger     The Mole     Hymn to the Eternal     Dialogue     Epitaph on a Certain Physiognomist     Trust in Immortality

SUPPRESSED POEMS.

   THE JOURNALISTS AND MINOS.   I chanced the other eve,—     But how I ne'er will tell,—   The paper to receive.     That's published down in hell.   In general one may guess,     I little care to see   This free-corps of the press     Got up so easily;   But suddenly my eyes     A side-note chanced to meet,   And fancy my surprise     At reading in the sheet:—   "For twenty weary springs"     (The post from Erebus,   Remark me, always brings     Unpleasant news to us)—   "Through want of water, we     Have well-nigh lost our breath;   In great perplexity     Hell came and asked for Death;   "'They can wade through the Styx,     Catch crabs in Lethe's flood;   Old Charon's in a fix,     His boat lies in the mud,   "'The dead leap over there,     The young and old as well;   The boatman gets no fare,     And loudly curses hell.'   "King Minos bade his spies     In all directions go;   The devils needs must rise,     And bring him news below.   "Hurrah! The secret's told     They've caught the robber's nest;   A merry feast let's hold!     Come, hell, and join the rest!   "An author's countless band,     Stalked round Cocytus' brink,   Each bearing in his hand     A glass for holding ink.   "And into casks they drew     The water, strange to say,   As boys suck sweet wine through     An elder-reed in play.   "Quick! o'er them cast the net,     Ere they have time to flee!   Warm welcome ye will get,     So come to Sans-souci!   "Smelt by the king ere long,     He sharpened up his tooth,   And thus addressed the throng     (Full angrily, in truth):   "'The robbers is't we see?     What trade? What land, perchance?'—   'German news-writers we!'—     Enough to make us dance!   "'A wish I long have known     To bid ye stop and dine,   Ere ye by Death were mown,     That brother-in-law of mine.   "'Yet now by Styx I swear,     Whose flood ye would imbibe,   That torments and despair     Shall fill your vermin-tribe!   "'The pitcher seeks the well,     Till broken 'tis one day;   They who for ink would smell,     The penalty must pay.   "'So seize them by their thumbs,     And loosen straight my beast   E'en now he                         
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