17. The Emperor Of China.[18]

My father was a dreadful bore, A good-for-nothing dandy; But I’m a mighty Emperor, And love a bumper of brandy.

These glorious draughts all others surpass In this, their magical power: As soon as I have drain’d my glass, All China bursts into flower.

The Middle Kingdom bursts into life, A blossoming meadow seeming; A man I wellnigh become, and my wife Soon gives me signs of teeming.

On every side abundance reigns, The sick no longer need potions; Confucius, Court-philosopher, gains Distinct and positive notions.

The ryebread the soldiers used to eat Of almond cakes is made now; The very vagabonds in the street In silk and satin parade now.

The knightly Order of Mandarins, Those weak old invalids, daily Are gaining strength and filling their skins, And shaking their pigtails gaily.

The great pagoda, faith’s symbol prized, Is ready for those who’re believing; The last of the Jews are here baptized, The Dragon’s order receiving.

The noble Manchoos exclaim, when freed From the presence of revolution: “The bastinado is all that we need, “We want no constitution!”

The pupils of Æsculapius perhaps May tell me that drink’s dissipation; But I continue to drink my Schnaps, To benefit the nation.

And so in drinking I persevere; It tastes like very manna! My people are happy, and drink their beer And join in shouting Hosanna!

18. CHURCH-COUNSELLOR PROMETHEUS.

Good Sir Paulus, noble robber, All the gods are on thee gazing With their brows in anger knitted, Furious at the theft amazing

Thou hast practised in Olympus— Sorry for it they will make thee! Fear the fate of poor Prometheus If Jove’s bailiffs overtake thee!

Worse indeed his theft, because he Stole the light in heaven dwelling To enlighten us weak mortals— Thou didst steal the works of Schelling,

Just the opposite of light,—nay, Darkness we can feel and handle Like the old Egyptian darkness,— Not one solitary candle!

19. TO THE WATCHMAN.

(On a recent occasion.)

If heart and style remain still true, I’ll not object, whatever you do. My friend, I never will mistake you, E’en though a Counsellor they make you.

They now are raising a terrible din Because you’ve been sworn as a Counsellor in; From the Seine to the Elbe, regardless of reason, For months they’ve declaim’d thus against your sad treason:

His progress onward is changed of late To progress backward; O, answer us straight-- On Swabian crabs are you really riding? Is’t only court-ladies you now take pride in?

Perchance you are tired, and long for rest; All night on your horn you’ve been blowing your best And now on a nail you quietly stow it; No longer for Germany’s hobby you’ll blow it.

You lie down in bed, and straightway close Your eyes, but vainly you seek for repose; Before the window the mockers salute us: Awake, Liberator! What! sleeping, Brutus?

Ah, bawlers like these can never know why The best of watchmen ceases to cry; These young braggadocios cannot discover Why man his exertions at length gives over.

You ask me how matters are going on here? No breeze is stirring, the atmosphere’s clear; The weathercocks all are perplex’d, not discerning The proper direction in which to be turning.

20. CONSOLING THOUGHTS.

We sleep as Brutus slept of yore,-- And yet he awoke, and ventured to bore In Cæsar’s bosom his chilly dagger! The Romans their tyrants loved to stagger.--

No Romans are we, tobacco we smoke, Each nation its favourite taste can invoke; Each nation its special merit possesses-- The finest dumplings Swabia dresses.

But Germans are we, kindhearted and brave, We sleep as soundly as though in the grave; And when we awake, our thirst is excessive, But not for the blood of tyrants oppressive.

’Tis our great pride to be as true As heart of oak and linden too; The land which oaks and lindens gives birth to Can never produce a Brutus of worth too.

And e’en if amongst us a Brutus were found, No Cæsar exists in the country round; Despite all his search, he would find him never,-- We make good gingerbread however.

We’ve six-and-thirty masters and lords, (Not one too many!) who wear their swords And stars on their regal breasts to protect them; The Ides of March can never affect them.

We call them Father, and Fatherland We call the country they command By right of descent, and love to call so-- We love sour-crout and sausages also.

And when our Father walks in the street We take off our hats with reverence meet; Our guileless Germany, injuring no man, Is not a den of murderers Roman.

21. THE WORLD TURNED UPSIDE DOWN.

The world is topsy-turvy turn’d, We walk feet-upwards in it; The woodcocks shoot the sportsmen down, A dozen in a minute.

The calves are seen to roast the cook, On men are riding the horses; On freedom of teaching and laws of light The Catholic owl discourses.

The herring is a sans-culotte, The truth is told by Bettina, And puss-in-boots brings Sophocles On the stage, with learned demeanour.

An ape for German heroes has built A Pantheon, for glory zealous; And Massmann has lately been using a comb, As German papers tell us.

The German bears, I grieve to say, Are atheists unbelieving, And in their place the parrots of France The Christian faith are receiving.

The Moniteur of Uckermark With equal frenzy seems smitten; The dead have on the living there The vilest epitaph written.

Then let us not swim against the stream, Good friends! ’twould serve us but badly; But let us ascend the Templehof hill, “Long life to the king!” shouting gladly.

22. ENLIGHTENMENT.

Have the scales that dimm’d thy vision Fallen, Michael? Canst thou see How they’re stealing in derision All the choicest food from thee?

In return, divine enjoyment Promise they in realms above, Where the angels’ sole employment Is to cook us fleshless love.

Michael, hath thy faith grown weaker, Or thy appetite more strong? Thou dost grasp life’s sparkling beaker, And thou sing’st a hero-song.

Fear not, Michael! take thy pleasure While on earth, and eat what’s good; When thou’rt dead, thou’lt have full leisure To digest in peace thy food.