She lay remote from ev'ry lightWith torments fill'd in Chaos here;God turn'd for ever from her sightHis radiant features' glory clear.
Within the realms she calls her own, She sees the splendour of the Son,His dreaded glories shining forth;She sees Him clad in rolling thunder, She sees the rocks all quake with wonder,When God before her stands in wrath.
She sees He comes her Judge to be,She feels the awful pangs inside her, Herself to slay endeavours she,But e'en this comfort is denied her.
Now looks she back, with pains untold, Upon those happy times of old,When those glories gave her joy;When yet her heart revered the truth, When her glad soul, in endless youthAnd rapture dwelt, without alloy.
She calls to mind with madden'd thoughtHow over man her wiles prevail'd;To take revenge on God she sought,And feels the vengeance it entail'd.
God was made man, and came to earth.
Then Satan cried with fearful mirth:
"E'en He my victim now shall be!"
He sought to slay the Lord Most High, The world's Creator now must die;But, Satan, endless woe to thee!
Thou thought'st to overcome Him then,Rejoicing in His suffering;But he in triumph comes againTo bind thee: Death! where is thy sting?
Speak, Hell! where is thy victory?
Thy power destroy'd and scatter'd see!
Know'st thou not now the Highest's might?
See, Satan, see thy rule o'erthrown!
By thousand-varying pangs weigh'd down, Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night.
As though by lightning struck thou liest, No gleam of rapture far or wide;In vain! no hope thou there decriest,--For me alone Messiah died!
A howling rises through the air, A trembling fills each dark vault there,When Christ to Hell is seen to come.
She snarls with rage, but needs must cower Before our mighty hero's power;He signs--and Hell is straightway dumb.
Before his voice the thunders break,On high His victor-banner blows;E'en angels at His fury quake,When Christ to the dread judgment goes.
Now speaks He, and His voice is thunder, He speaks, the rocks are rent in sunder,His breath is like devouring flames.
Thus speaks He: "Tremble, ye accurs'd!
He who from Eden hurl'd you erst,Your kingdom's overthrow proclaims.
Look up! My children once were ye,Your arms against Me then ye turn'd, Ye fell, that ye might sinners be,Ye've now the wages that ye earn'd.
"My greatest foeman from that day, Ye led my dearest friends astray,--As ye had fallen, man must fall.
To kill him evermore ye sought, 'They all shall die the death,' ye thought;But howl! for Me I won them all.
For them alone did I descend,For them pray'd, suffer'd, perish'd I.
Ye ne'er shall gain your wicked end;
Who trusts in Me shall never die.
"In endless chains here lie ye now, Nothing can save you from the slough.
Not boldness, not regret for crime.
Lie, then, and writhe in brimstone fire!
'Twas ye yourselves drew down Mine ire,Lie and lament throughout all time!
And also ye, whom I selected,E'en ye forever I disown, For ye My saving grace rejectedYe murmur? blame yourselves alone!
"Ye might have lived with Me in bliss, For I of yore had promis'd this;Ye sinn'd, and all My precepts slighted Wrapp'd in the sleep of sin ye dwelt, Now is My fearful judgment felt,By a just doom your guilt requited."--Thus spake He, and a fearful stormFrom Him proceeds, the lightnings glow, The thunders seize each wicked form,And hurl them in the gulf below.
The God-man closeth Hell's sad doors, In all His majesty He soarsFrom those dark regions back to light.
He sitteth at the Father's side;
Oh, friends, what joy doth this betide!
For us, for us He still will fight!
The angels sacred quire aroundRejoice before the mighty Lord, So that all creatures hear the sound:
"Zebaoth's God be aye ador'd!"
1765.
ANTIQUES.
LEOPOLD, DUKE OF BRUNSWICK.
[Written on the occasion of the death, by drowning, of the Prince.]
THOU wert forcibly seized by the hoary lord of the river,--Holding thee, ever he shares with thee his streaming domain, Calmly sleepest thou near his urn as it silently trickles,Till thou to action art roused, waked by the swift-rolling flood.
Kindly be to the people, as when thou still wert a mortal,Perfecting that as a god, which thou didst fail in, as man.
1785.
TO THE HUSBANDMAN.
SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last.
Joyously plough'd and sow'd! Here food all living is budding,E'en from the side of the tomb Hope will not vanish away.
1789.
ANACREON'S GRAVE.
HERE where the roses blossom, where vines round the laurels are twining,Where the turtle-dove calls, where the blithe cricket is heard, Say, whose grave can this be, with life by all the ImmortalsBeauteously planted and deck'd?--Here doth Anacreon sleep Spring and summer and autumn rejoiced the thrice-happy minstrel,And from the winter this mound kindly hath screen'd him at last.
1789.
THE BRETHREN.
SLUMBER and Sleep, two brethren ordain'd by the gods to their service,Were by Prometheus implored, comfort to give to his race;But though so light to the gods, too heavy for man was their burden,We in their slumber find sleep, we in their sleep meet with death.
1789.
MEASURE OF TIME.
EROS, what mean'st thou by this? In each of thine hands is an hourglass!
What, oh thou frivolous god! twofold thy measure of time?
"Slowly run from the one, the hours of lovers when parted;While through the other they rush swiftly, as soon as they meet."1789.
WARNING.
WAKEN not Amor from sleep! The beauteous urchin still slumbers;Go, and complete thou the task, that to the day is assign'd!
Thus doth the prudent mother with care turn time to her profit,While her babe is asleep, for 'twill awake but too soon.
1785.
SOLITUDE.
OH ye kindly nymphs, who dwell 'mongst the rocks and the thickets,Grant unto each whatsoe'er he may in silence desire!
Comfort impart to the mourner, and give to the doubter instruction,And let the lover rejoice, finding the bliss that he craves.
