Poems of Schiller - 2nd Period — The Conflict

No!

I this conflict longer will not wage, The conflict duty claims--the giant task;-- Thy spells, O virtue, never can assuage The heart's wild fire--this offering do not ask True, I have sworn--a solemn vow have sworn, That I myself will curb the self within;

Yet take thy wreath, no more it shall be worn-- Take back thy wreath, and leave me free to sin.

Rent be the contract I with thee once made;-- She loves me, loves me--forfeit be the crown!

Blessed he who, lulled in rapture's dreamy shade, Glides, as I glide, the deep fall gladly down.

She sees the worm that my youth's bloom decays, She sees my spring-time wasted as it flees;

And, marvelling at the rigor that gainsays The heart's sweet impulse, my reward decrees.

Distrust this angel purity, fair soul!

It is to guilt thy pity armeth me;

Could being lavish its unmeasured whole, It ne'er could give a gift to rival thee!

Thee--the dear guilt I ever seek to shun, O tyranny of fate, O wild desires!

My virtue's only crown can but be won In that last breath--when virtue's self expires!