Part 1 (1/2)
Poems of The Second Period.
by Frederich Schiller.
HYMN TO JOY.
Joy, thou G.o.ddess, fair, immortal, Offspring of Elysium, Mad with rapture, to the portal Of thy holy fame we come!
Fas.h.i.+on's laws, indeed, may sever, But thy magic joins again; All mankind are brethren ever 'Neath thy mild and gentle reign.
CHORUS.
Welcome, all ye myriad creatures!
Brethren, take the kiss of love!
Yes, the starry realms above Hide a Father's smiling features!
He, that n.o.ble prize possessing-- He that boasts a friend that's true, He whom woman's love is blessing, Let him join the chorus too!
Aye, and he who but one spirit On this earth can call his own!
He who no such bliss can merit, Let him mourn his fate alone!
CHORUS.
All who Nature's tribes are swelling Homage pay to sympathy; For she guides us up on high, Where the unknown has his dwelling.
From the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of kindly Nature All of joy imbibe the dew; Good and bad alike, each creature Would her roseate path pursue.
'Tis through her the wine-cup maddens, Love and friends to man she gives!
Bliss the meanest reptile gladdens,-- Near G.o.d's throne the cherub lives!
CHORUS.
Bow before him, all creation!
Mortals, own the G.o.d of love!
Seek him high the stars above,-- Yonder is his habitation!
Joy, in Nature's wide dominion, Mightiest cause of all is found; And 'tis joy that moves the pinion, When the wheel of time goes round; From the bud she lures the flower-- Suns from out their orbs of light; Distant spheres obey her power, Far beyond all mortal sight.
CHORUS.
As through heaven's expanse so glorious In their orbits suns roll on, Brethren, thus your proud race run, Glad as warriors all-victorious!
Joy from truth's own gla.s.s of fire Sweetly on the searcher smiles; Lest on virtue's steeps he tire, Joy the tedious path beguiles.
High on faith's bright hill before us, See her banner proudly wave!
Joy, too, swells the angels' chorus,-- Bursts the bondage of the grave!
CHORUS.
Mortals, meekly wait for heaven Suffer on in patient love!
In the starry realms above, Bright rewards by G.o.d are given.
To the G.o.ds we ne'er can render Praise for every good they grant; Let us, with devotion tender, Minister to grief and want.
Quenched be hate and wrath forever, Pardoned be our mortal foe-- May our tears upbraid him never, No repentance bring him low!
CHORUS.
Sense of wrongs forget to treasure-- Brethren, live in perfect love!
In the starry realms above, G.o.d will mete as we may measure.
Joy within the goblet flushes, For the golden nectar, wine, Every fierce emotion hushes,-- Fills the breast with fire divine.
Brethren, thus in rapture meeting, Send ye round the br.i.m.m.i.n.g cup,-- Yonder kindly spirit greeting, While the foam to heaven mounts up!