When the sun sets and the day
tilts to its rest,
Luna beckons gently and kindly,
and night decends.
When the stars gleam splendidly,
and a thousand sunbeams shimmer:
the soul feels so wonderful,
it wrenches loose from the dust.
It gazes so gladly at those stars,
as if it were looking back to its homeland;
It gazes at those far things,
and forgets all worldly trifles.
It wants only to struggle,
It wants only to strive,
and to float free of its mortal frame;
the world is too narrow and small,
amont the stars would it like to live.
Whether earth's storms rage,
or false fortune rewards evil,
it gazes hopefully upward,
to where the star-judge sits enthroned.
No fear can torment it any longer,
No power can command it;
With a transfigured face,
it soars upward toward the heavenly light.
A vague premonition creeps up on me
from another world;
not much longer will last my earthly pilgrimage.
Soon I will have attained my goal,
Soon I will have risen up to you.
I will soon reap at God's throne,
the beautiful rewards of my earthly sorrows.
Das Geheimnis The Secret WoO 145 (1815)
(Ignaz Von Wessenburg):
Where does a flower bloom that never wilts?
Where does a star shine that glows eternally?
Your lips, my Muse! your sacred lips
give tidings of this flower and this star.
My lips can proclaim nothing
that your innermost feelings do not already declare!
[This star and this flower] will glow and bloom tenderly in
the soul of anyone who preserves them faithfully!
The dead Christ starts, the shadows lift,
The light lengthens across the Galilean's face;
Death flees before impetuous hosts that chase
With words of sunshine and white spears to smite
Grim wraiths of agonies and lingering sight
Of scarred Golgotha in divine grace.
The light beats swift and swifter, and the space
Stirs with the passion of immortal might.
(Allegretto)
The dead Christ arises; the grave is defeated;
The stone is rolled away by the angels, An Easter Paean!
The air is a tumult of tremulous wonderings.
The sweet winds are weighted with spirits from Paradise flown.
On one mighty billow of song the strong Galilean
Moves into the light and the rapture and flutter of wings.
(Presto)
Waking Easter Lilies lift their eyes
To the weeping eyes of Magdalene;
Sounds bewildering, agitate between
Earth and sky, and all things seem to rise.
Mystery casts off its dark disguise,
Life and power leap from the Nazarene;
Earth and sky are filled with radiant sheen,
Flash of wings and surge of Paradise.
(Finale: Allegro con brio)
Heavenis emptied of angels; the jubilant legions,
Wild with tumultuous rapture and breathless despair,
Whirling and swirling, encircle with song and with laughter.
Strong with the infinite strength to the infinite regions,
Rises the Crucified, swift on the tides of the air,
Drawing the worshipping ages, in ecstasy after.
***********************
Lyman Whitney Allen
[This message has been edited by lysander (edited June 22, 2003).]
Anthem for Inauguration of Beethoven's Statue in Bonn, Aug.12th, 1845.
Thou, Master and guardian of music!
Thy great image
Was unveiled before our eyes,
Here in this place
Where your cradle stood,
For here, at home in the German
Rhineland -
Though every land proclaim thee theirs
Here, powerful one, is thy Fatherland.
************
Wlliam Smets
[This message has been edited by lysander (edited June 22, 2003).]
Passion and pain, the outcry of despair,
The Pang of unattainable desire.
and youth's delight in pleasures
that expire.
And sweet high dreamings of the
good and fair.
Clashing in swift soul-storm,
through which no prayer,
Uplifted stays the destined death-stroke
dire.
Then through a mighty sorrowing,
as through fire,
The soul burnt pure yearns forth
into the air,
Of the dear earth and with the scent
of flowers,
And a song of birds assuaged, takes
heart again,
made cheerier with this drinking of Gods wine,
and turns with healing to the
world of men.
And high above a sweet strong Angel towers
and love makes life triumphant and divine.
Verses on the arrival of Haydn in England, (1791?).
1st verse from a long poem;
HAYDN! Great Sovereign of the tuneful art!
Thy works alone supply an ample chart
Of all the mountains, seas, and fertile plains,
Within the compass of its wide domains -
Is there an Artist of the present day
Untaught by thee to think, as well as play?
Whose head thy science has not well supplied
Whose hand thy labours have not fortified?
Bach with his coils on wondrous shuttles woven,
Companioned oft my youth; and oft this soul.
By Schubert's heartdeep tones was inly cloven;
And with the world itself I now condole;
Hearing man's masterpiece of Dissonance roll
From the same mighty breast that nursed Beethoven.
Our greetings to thee on a mighteir road,
Called by the voices of admirers loud,
Since modesty has held thee back too long!
As thou setst forth, the garland blooms on thee,
And older warriors welcome thee with joy.
How mightily thy music's power works,
It pours in flood, like to a brimming stream
In fair alliance, art and delight embrace;
Since thou hast felt, thou touchest other hearts.
Within our breasts we felt the fearful storm
Of Leonore's courage, her love and tears;
Her faithfulness resounds in joyful clang
And woeful care gives way to happy ease.
Go boldly on; to grandsons yet unborn,
Enchanted by thy wondrous music's sound,
The rise of Thebes will seem no more a tale.
***************
( Stephan von Breuning )
To Herr Ludwig van Beethoven, on the occasion of his opera, first given on November 20th, 1805 and now repeated under the altered title of 'Leonore'.
************************
I am not quite sure whether this poem was written by Stephan bon Breuning. Any further information about this poem would be very much appreciated. With Thanks.
[This message has been edited by lysander (edited July 10, 2003).]
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