They who passed through many woes, They whose lot was bright as morn, Sick of life, or newly born; Now their earthly days they cease, Now all spirits rest in peace. JOHANN G. VON HERDER. [1744-1803.] NIGHT. A FRAGMENT. ART returning, peaceful holy mother Of the stars and heavenly meditation— Art to us returning? Earth is waiting And with rest my yearning heart refresheth. Star-bespangled, golden-crowned goddess, Thou upon whose sable garments flowing Sparkle tens of thousands worlds, whom gently Thou hast borne, and whose unceasing motion, Fiery orbits' course, and restless being, Thou with arms of rest eternal holdest. With what hymns of praise to thee resoundeth All the universe, thou gentle leader Of the starry chorus, hymns, and praises, Silencing the tempest, softly lulling Into slumber every voice and language, Of the vast creation rolleth ever; And thou music of those worlds celestial, Light from light, the heavens' gentle language! Lofty night, I kneel before thy altar; All the lights in th' all-surrounding ether Are the fillet of thy holy temples, Full of sacred letters. Who can read them, On the brow of night? They say: Jehovah Is the only God, His name Eternal, And His child is Night; her name is called Mystery no mortal e'er hath lifted Yet her veil most holy. She created Worlds, and space, and time. Her children ever Stand in face of love, and law, and order, And of fate relentless, guiding ever Guiding ever to the loving Father. Fling around thy veil, O holy mother! Close thy mighty book of sacred writing! Even in my thoughts I can no higher, Can no further climb; do thou then rather Pour from out thy sleep-filled horn upon me, Gently pour on me, O holy mother Thou of sleep and dreams, pour gently on me Soft oblivion of my cares and sorrows. THE LYRE. YE chords, what singeth in you? What sounds do ye prolong? Is't thou, oh Philomela, Thou bird of mournful song? Who when she to my spirit Her soft complaining sent, Became, perchance, in sighing, A silver instrument. Ye chords, what speaketh in you? What sounds do ye prolong? |