# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1835/Count Egmont III

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Literary Gazette, 7th March, 1835, Pages 154-155
ORIGINAL POETRY.
VERSIONS FROM THE GERMAN.
(Fifth Series: continued.)
Count Egmont, a Tragedy.—Goethe.
Egmont.
Evening has darken'd o'er the market-place:
'Tis shadowy and deserted. Those who pass
Go hurrying by, with pale and anxious looks,
That fear to meet each other. She is there,
The gentle maiden whom Count Egmont loves.
An hour has changed her more than many years.
Her wild eyes wander round, and in their gaze
Flashes the lightning of despair that hopes—
Hope, agony's brief fever. Her white lip
Is eloquent, and passionate with fear—
Fear born of love, forgetful of itself.
Her cheek is flushed—'tis with the eagerness
Of the young warrior—but they heed her not.
A selfish fear has paralysed the crowd—
The future is not with them—and they seek
Precarious safety by its sacrifice.
Clara, Brackenberg, and Citizens.
Brackenberg.
Clara.
To free him, Brackenberg. A little word
Will bid his fellow citizens awake
To strength and action. Strong in every heart,
Though secret is the wish to set him free.
What do we hazard but our useless lives,
That are not worth the keeping, if he perish.
Come, come, there only wants the gathering voice!
Brackenberg.
Unhappy one! you do not see the power
That fetters our desire with iron band.
Clara.
But not unconquerable. See, they come,
Men, tried and true, his fellow citizens.
Oh, friends, what now of Egmont?
1st Citizen.
Clara
I will speak softly, till our gathered strength
Finds in its union voice. Ah, no delay!
The tyranny that dared to fetter wears
A midnight dagger. As the evening shades
Darken around, my spirit darkens too.
I dread the night. But let us now disperse,
Each calling on his friends: let each one seek
His ancient sword. Here let our meeting be!
The market-place will hold our generous crowd
Our stream will carry all before its tide.
The enemy will falter, and then yield.
They have but hired guards to meet our might—
Soldiers against the people! they'll not stand.
Count Egmont, he will marshal our return.
Free, he will thank us for it—we, who owe
So vast a debt to him. Ah, he may see—
He will see morning redden the free sky!
2nd Citizen.
What mean you, maiden ?
Clara.
Hear ye not my words?
I speak of Egmont.
1st Citizen.
Name not his fatal name!
Clara.
Not name that name! his name! Why it must come,
If but from common custom to the lip.
Where is it not inscribed? Why, I have read
Each letter of that name amid the stars.
Neighbours, dear friends, ye dream, ye dream: awake!
Gaze not on me with sadly wondering eyes,
I only bid you to your actual wish.
My voice is but the voice of your own hearts.
Who will this wretched night lay down his head
Upon his restless bed, ere he has knelt
In earnest prayer to heaven for Egmont's sake.
Now, with God's blessing, ask it of yourselves.
Mine be your watch word—Egmont! freedom! death!
3d Citizen.
The evil that would bring upon our heads!
Clara.
Stay yet a little while. Fly not the name
Your shouts so lately bore to yonder heaven.
But late he came from Ghent; then stood ye all
Joyful, and lined the streets through which he rode. Then did the artisan fling down his work
That he might gaze; the sorrowful looked forth,
And gladdened while they looked, as if his face
Shed sunshine round. Ye held your children up
That they might know the hero of your love.
'Tis our brave Egmont. Ye must look to him
For better days than those your fathers knew.
Let not your children ask, where is he now—
Our great deliverer? Where the better days
That built their hope on him? How will ye say,
We did betray him, cowards that we were!
1st Citizen.
Let her not talk, it only adds to ill.
Brackenberg.
Clara.
Am I a child or mad? You think me such.
From this dark certainty I cannot come
Without a hope away. Ah! let me speak
And ye will hear. I see you are amazed,
As yet ye cannot find your better selves.
Look from the present danger to the past—
Summon ye next the future from that past—
Can you then live—live, will you, and Egmont gone?
With his breath fails the breath of freedom too!
For you, what pressing dangers he has dared!
For you, he shed his life-blood in the war!
Now doth a jail confine that noble soul,
Where deeds of murder are familiar things.
Perhaps he thinks of you—and hopes. He asks
The help that he was only used to give.
3rd Citizen.
Come, comrade, come, this is too dangerous talk.
Clara.
Ah, I have not your arms, nor yet your strength;
But I have what you want—a constant heart.
Would it could beat for all. Let my weak breath
Kindle the dormant ashes. I will go,
Like a frail banner flung upon the wind,
Which leads a noble host to victory,
So shall my spirit lead—would ye but know
A gathered people have an awful power.
1st Citizen.
Nay, lead her hence.
Brackenberg.
Think, Clara, where you are.
Clara.
Beneath the glorious heaven which grew more fair
When he, the glorious one, walked free below.
Mark yonder windows, that now, closed and dark,
Are like your own shut hearts. Have ye not seen
Head above head there raised to gaze on him?
On your own thresholds have ye stood with shouts!
Ye! whom I loved, because ye honoured him.
Is he become a tyrant that ye shrink
From sharing in his fall? Ye loved him once.
Oh, these weak hands! could ye but grasp a sword,
And ye fond arms! that have so often held
The hero prisoned in their soft restraint,
Can ye do nothing for him?
3d Citizen.
Yonder is Alba's guard: we must away.
Brackenberg.
Come, Clara, this is madness: let us go.
Clara.
And will you make no effort? you too stood
One of the many in the shouting crowd;
I, only, hid my face, or timidly
Glanced through th' half-opened casement, though my heart
Beat higher than your own, and far more true.
Brackenberg.
Patience, sweet Clara, we are left alone.
Look round—these public streets you used to tread
Only to church on the calm Sabbath morn;
Then was your veil drawn closely round, your eyes
Sought but the ground, and if I spake you blushed—
Though but the kindly greeting of a friend—
An old familiar friend. What can have changed
The downcast and the timid one?
Clara.
Despair!
But let us home; home—where is now my home?
(To be continued.)