Friedrich Hebbel, Germany's greatest master of tragedy since the days of Schiller, was born March 18, 1813, in the little village of Wesselburen in Holstein. Thus his first impression of nature was the infinite expanse of the North Sea Plain. Bitterest poverty was his lot from childhood; poverty and loneliness put their harsh imprint on his youth and early manhood. Haunted by hunger, he battled for years to gain a mere living, often on the brink of despair. His only help was a small stipend from the king of Denmark, which enabled him to spend two years in Paris and Rome, and the meager pennies that his devoted friend Elise Lensing, a poor seamstress in Hamburg, sent him. His short stories, his dramas, although they brought him fame, were of little avail in this struggle that seemed all too hopeless. Then a sudden change for the better came. Stopping at Vienna on his return from Rome, he found himself in a small circle of ardent admirers. He met Christine Enghaus, at that time Germany's greatest tragic actress, who became the most congenial interpreter of Hebbel's heroines. The attraction was mutual and on May 26, 1846, Friedrich Hebbel and Christine Enghaus were married. Now followed years of calm maturity, the greatest period of Hebbel's dramatic production. Hebbel died in Vienna December 13, 1863. His lyric poetry, for the most part the product of his earlier years, is marked above all by a tendency towards symbolism, these symbols usually of a rich sensuous beauty and often of a rare delicacy. A homely realism is, however, by no means lacking. The musical quality of his verse attracted the genius of Robert Schumann, who set the Nachtlied to music.

90. In the spring of 1836 Hebbel went to Heidelberg. A child of the North Sea Plain, he came in contact here with a richer, softer beauty of a more Southern landscape, a beauty which seemed to set free his latent powers. A night in the month of May on the wooded summits near Heidelberg called forth this song. The giant magnitude of the starry heavens awakened in the poet to an overpowering degree the feeling of the greatness of cosmic life; he feels the insignificance of his own individual existence, he feels as if it were in danger of being extinguished by the vastness of the great All; but then sleep comes as a kindly nurse and draws her protecting circle about the meager flame of individual existence. Notice the internal rhymes in the first and second stanzas that picture cosmic life and its reflection in the individual, and the utterly different effect of the third stanza, that returns to the narrower sphere of individual life.

91.—3. SPIELT HEREIN, comes playing into the room.

6. GEFÄLLT IHM GAR ZU SEHR, it likes all too well.

92.—10. It was customary for the neighbors to perform the last kindly offices for the dead.

16. WAS, which.

93.—1. DIE DU, thou who.

95.—6 ff. WIR STERBEN: because in this union, when even the last barrier separating the "I" from the "Thou" has fallen, the aim of life has been reached in utter harmony which overcomes the limitations of individual existence. Thus these two souls may return into the All, as expressed in the beautiful symbol of the last stanza.

11. ZERFLIEßEN IN EINS, coalesce.

97. Compare Keats' Ode to Autumn.

98. Addressed to Christine Hebbel, the poet's wife.

3, 4. IN FLAMMEN STEHEN, to be aflame. This passage could be rendered, that stands as if aflame with morning light at the farthermost horizon.

10. LÄßT = verlÄßt.