Farewell, thou Sun, and Thou, O Power Divine,

That far above my spirit dimly shine.

I go to add another star to heaven:—

For what are stars, but anguished curses, riven

From innocent and hapless souls, that fly

To burn the brow of Heaven? and they supply

Fresh armaments, and jewels fiery red,

To God, the source of lightning flashes dread!

Alas, what do I say? Send forth thy fires,

O God! Consume this brain that thus aspires

To soar, and dares to pierce the depths of heaven;

And e’en to climb unto the stars has striven!

Creator of our trembling beings, hail!

Of light and youth, of age when forces fail;

Thou that the roses from my brow hast wrenched,

Hast stilled my trembling lips, my longings quenched;

Mist to mine eyes hast given, sobs to my breath:—

Yet thou hast sworn to smile on me in death!

Ah, surely thou hast kept for me a life

Of fragrance, light, and prayer beyond this strife!

But if my latest breath must perish here

All silently, in this dark atmosphere—

From now a flash of lightning I would be,

Coiled round thy name, and, murmuring ceaselessly,

A curse I would become to pierce Thy side—

God, the Arch Enemy, I would deride!

Ah me, I tremble, and am pale as death.

My brain seethes like a hell; a sobbing breath

I am amongst the mournful cypress trees,

An autumn leaf soon wafted by the breeze!

Oh, I would live!—give me of life one spark!

To dream—and then embrace the grave so dark?

My God, how black is this decree of doom

Writ in the lees of dread sepulchral gloom!

Oh, give my soul one drop of living fire—

To love—and live for ever I desire!

Ye stars of heaven, into my spirit fall,

There live, and hear your hapless lover call!

To my pale brow the springtime brings no rose.

No smile for me in this world’s sunbeams glows.

Night is my coffin, stars for lights flame round.

The moon all weeping seeks my funeral mound.

There are some men for whom no mourners sigh—

It was for them He placed that moon on high;

And he that to death’s portals draweth near

First life would have—and then a mourner’s tear.

In vain the stars of heaven spelt “Love” for me

And nightingales explained its mystery.

In vain of Love I learnt to know the truth,

And crystal waves reflected back my youth.

In vain the forest silent lay around—

The secret leaves gave forth no breath or sound;

They would not break upon my reverie—

They let me dream of Love eternally.

All, all in vain I saw the flowers of spring

Their incense to my dreams’ fair altar bring;

With their delights they all have mocked at me—

And all the world is but God’s mockery!