In Elysiens Gefilden rauschet Harfenklang -
Töne mir herüber schmelzender Gesang!
Ich vergehe - meine Seele
Löst sich auf in Symphonie.
O! warum so weich geschaffen?
Warum dies Gefühl für sie?
Alles lispelt Wehmuth, alles weinet um mich her,
Und die Schöpfung lächelt meinem Blick nicht mehr...
-
-
PHOEBUS, expell'd by the approaching night,
Blush'd, and for shame clos'd in his bashful light,
While I, with leaden Mopheus overcome,
The Muse whom I adore, enter'd the room.
Her hair, with looser curiosity,
Did on her comely back dishevelle'd lie;
Her eyes...Elysium is as far as to
The very nearest Room
If in that Room a Friend await
Felicity or Doom —
What fortitude the Soul contains,
That it can so endure
The accent of a coming Foot —
The opening of a Door —