Then do not think to-day of sparing scenery Command enough of dresses and machinery; Use as you please-fire, water, thunder, levin- The greater and the lesser lights of heaven. Squander away the stars at your free pleasure, And build up rocks and mountains without measure. Of birds and beasts we've plenty here to lavish, Come, cast away all apprehensions slavish- Strut, on our narrow stage, with lofty stature, As moving through the circle of wide nature, Hurry with speed more swift than words can tell, Rapid as thought-from HEAVEN-through EARTH
DER HERR, THE HEAVENLY HOSTS, afterwards
The three Archangels come forward.
THE sun, as in the ancient days, 'Mong sister stars in rival song, His destined path observes, obeys, And still in thunder rolls along : New strength and full beatitude The angels gather from his sight, Mysterious all-yet all is good, All fair as at the birth of light!
Swift, unimaginably swift,
Soft spins the earth, and glories bright
Of mid-day Eden change and shift
To shades of deep and spectral night.
And chide the rocks with insult hoarse, And wave and rock are hurried on, And suns and stars in endless course.
And winds with winds mad war maintain, From sea to land, from land to sea; And heave round earth, a living chain Of interwoven agency
Guides of the bursting thunder-peal, Fast lightnings flash with deadly ray, While, Lord, with Thee thy servants feel Calm effluence of abiding day.
New strength and full beatitude The angels gather from thy sight; Mysterious all, yet all is good,
All fair as at the birth of light.
Since Thou, O Lord, dost visit us once more, To ask how things are going on, and since You have received me kindly heretofore, I venture to the levee of my prince. Pardon me, if I fail, after the sort
Of bending courtiers here, to pay my court;
The company is far too fine for me,
They smile with scorn such folk in heaven to see. High hymns and solemn words are not my forte. Pathos from me would look too like a joke; Words, that from others had set angels weeping, To laughter would your very self provoke, If laughter were not wholly out of keeping. Nothing of suns or worlds have I to say, I only see how men fret on their day; The little god of earth is still the same Strange thing he was, when first to life he came ; That life were somewhat better, if the light
Of Heaven had not been given to spoil him quite. Reason he calls it-see its blessed fruit,
Than the brute beast man is a beastlier brute; He seems to me, if I may venture on
Such a comparison, to be like one
Of those long lank-legged grashoppers, whose song The self-same creak, chirps, as they bound along, Monotonous and restless in the grass,
'Twere well 'twas in grass always; but, alas, They thrust their snouts in every filth they pass. Der Herr.
Hast thou no more than this to say, Thou, who complainest every day? Are all things evil in thy sight? Does nothing on the earth move right?
Not any thing, my lord-poor men so fervent And foolish are-I almost feel compassion.
Truly, he serves in a peculiar fashion; Child though he be of human birth, His food and drink are not of earth. Foolish -even he at times will feel The folly in such hopes to deal:- His fancies hurry him afar;
Of heaven he asks its highest star; Self-willed and spoiled, in mad pursuit, Of earth demands its fairest fruit; And all that both can give supplied, Behold him still unsatisfied!
Yes: for he serves in a perplexing scene, That oft misleads him. Still his WILL is right;
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