The Life of Friedrich Schiller. Томас Карлейль

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Carlos being already printed, by Göschen, in Leipzig, the poet, pressed for the remainder, felt himself obliged to stay behind from an excursion which the Körner family were making, in a fine autumn day. Unluckily, the lady of the house, thinking Schiller was to go along with them, had locked all her cupboards and the cellar. Schiller found himself without meat or drink, or even wood for fuel; still farther exasperated by the dabbling of some washer-maids beneath his window, he produced these lines.' The poem is of the kind which cannot be translated; the first three stanzas are as follows:

"Die Wäsche klatscht vor meiner Thür,Es plarrt die Küchenzofe,Und mich, mich fuhrt das FlügelthierZu König Philips Hofe.Ich eile durch die GallerieMit schnellem Schritt, belauscheDort die Prinzessin EboliIm süssen Liebesrausche.Schon ruft das schöne Weib: Triumph!Schon hör' ich—Tod und Hölle!Was hör' ich—einen nassen StrumpfGeworfen in die Welle."

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Jean Paul nevertheless, not without some show of reason, has compared this Posa to the tower of a lighthouse: 'high, far-shining,—empty!' (Note of 1845.)