<\/p>\n
The old world began to decline. The pleasure-garden of the young race withered away\u2014up into more open, desolate regions, forsaking his childhood, struggled the growing man. The gods vanished with their retinue\u2014Nature stood alone and lifeless. Dry Number and rigid Measure bound it with iron chains. Into dust and air the priceless blossoms of life fell away in words obscure. Gone was wonder-working Faith, and its all-transforming, all-uniting angel-comrade, the Imagination. A cold north wind blew unkindly over the rigid plain, and the rigid wonderland first froze, then evaporated into ether. The far depths of heaven filled with glowing worlds. Into the deeper sanctuary, into the more exalted region of feeling, the soul of the world retired with all its earthly powers, there to rule until the dawn should break of universal Glory. No longer was the Light the abode of the gods, and the heavenly token of their presence\u2014they drew over themselves the veil of the Night. The Night became the mighty womb of revelations\u2014into it the gods went back\u2014and fell asleep, to go abroad in new and more glorious shapes over the transfigured world. Among the people who too early were become of all the most scornful and insolently estranged from the blessed innocence of youth, appeared the New World with a face never seen before\u2014in the poverty of a poetic shelter\u2014a son of the first virgin and mother\u2014the eternal fruit of mysterious embrace. The foreboding, rich-blossoming wisdom of the East at once recognized the beginning of the new age\u2014A star showed the way to the humble cradle of the king. In the name of the distant future, they did him homage with lustre and fragrance, the highest wonders of Nature. In solitude the heavenly heart unfolded to a flower-chalice of almighty love\u2014upturned toward the supreme face of the father, and resting on the bliss-foreboding bosom of the sweetly solemn mother. With deifying fervor the prophetic eye of the blooming child beheld the years to come, foresaw, untroubled over the earthly lot of his own days, the beloved offspring of his divine stem. Ere long the most childlike souls, by true love marvellously possessed, gathered about him. Like flowers sprang up a strange new life in his presence. Words inexhaustible and the most joyful tidings fell like sparks of a divine spirit from his friendly lips. From a far shore, born under the clear sky of Hellas, came a singer to Palestine, and gave up his whole heart to the wonder-child:<\/p>\n
The youth thou art who ages long hast stood
\nUpon our graves, so deeply lost in thought;
\nA sign of comfort in the dusky gloom
\nFor high humanity, a joyful start.
\nWhat dropped us all into abyssmal woe,
\nPulls us forward with sweet yearning now.
\nIn everlasting life death found its goal,
\nFor thou art Death who at last makes us whole.<\/p>\n
Filled with joy, the singer went on to Hindustan\u2014his heart intoxicated with the sweetest love; and poured it out in fiery songs under the balmy sky, so that a thousand hearts bowed to him, and the good news sprang up with a thousand branches. Soon after the singer\u2019s departure, his precious life was made a sacrifice for the deep fall of man\u2014He died in his youth, torn away from his beloved world, from his weeping mother, and his trembling friends. His lovely mouth emptied the dark cup of unspeakable woes\u2014in ghastly fear the birth of the new world drew near. Hard he wrestled with the terrors of old Death\u2014Heavy lay the weight of the old world upon him. Yet once more he looked fondly at his mother\u2014then came the releasing hand of eternal love, and he fell asleep. Only a few days hung a deep veil over the roaring sea, over the quaking land\u2014countless tears wept his loved ones\u2014the mystery was unsealed\u2014heavenly spirits heaved the ancient stone from the gloomy grave. Angels sat by the Sleeper\u2014delicately shaped from his dreams\u2014awoken in new Godlike glory; he clomb the limits of the new-born world\u2014buried with his own hand the old corpse in the abandoned hollow, and with a hand almighty laid upon it a stone which no power shall ever again upheave.<\/p>\n
Yet weep thy loved ones tears of joy, tears of feeling and endless thanksgiving over your grave\u2014joyously startled, they see thee rise again, and themselves with thee\u2014behold thee weep with sweet fervor on the blessed bosom of thy mother, solemnly walking with thy friends, uttering words plucked as from the Tree of Life; see thee hasten, full of longing, into thy father\u2019s arms, bearing with thee youthful humanity, and the inexhaustible cup of the golden future. Soon the mother hastened after thee\u2014in heavenly triumph\u2014she was the first with thee in the new home. Since then, long ages have flowed past, and in ever-increasing splendor have stirred your new creation\u2014and thousands have, away from pangs and tortures, followed thee, filled with faith and longing and fidelity\u2014walking about with thee and the heavenly virgin in the kingdom of love, serving in the temple of heavenly Death, and forever thine.<\/p>\n
Uplifted is the stone\u2014
\nAnd all mankind is risen\u2014
\nWe all remain thine own.
\nAnd vanished is our prison.
\nAll troubles flee away
\nThy golden bowl before,
\nFor Earth and Life give way
\nAt the last and final supper.<\/p>\n
To the marriage Death doth call\u2014
\nThe virgins standeth back\u2014
\nThe lamps burn lustrous all\u2014
\nOf oil there is no lack\u2014
\nIf the distance would only fill
\nWith the sound of you walking alone
\nAnd that the stars would call
\nUs all with human tongues and tone.<\/p>\n
Unto thee, O Mary
\nA thousand hearts aspire.
\nIn this life of shadows
\nThee only they desire.
\nIn thee they hope for delivery
\nWith visionary expectation\u2014
\nIf only thou, O holy being
\nCould clasp them to thy breast.<\/p>\n
With bitter torment burning,
\nSo many who are consumed
\nAt last from this world turning
\nTo thee have looked and fled,
\nHelpful thou hast appeared
\nTo so many in pain.
\nNow to them we come,
\nTo never go out again.<\/p>\n
At no grave can weep
\nAny who love and pray.
\nThe gift of Love they keep,
\nFrom none can it be taken away.
\nTo soothe and quiet his longing,
\nNight comes and inspires\u2014
\nHeaven\u2019s children round him thronging
\nWatch and guard his heart.<\/p>\n
Have courage, for life is striding
\nTo endless life along;
\nStretched by inner fire,
\nOur sense becomes transfigured.
\nOne day the stars above
\nShall flow in golden wine,
\nWe will enjoy it all,
\nAnd as stars we will shine.<\/p>\n
The love is given freely,
\nAnd Separation is no more.
\nThe whole life heaves and surges
\nLike a sea without a shore.
\nJust one night of bliss\u2014
\nOne everlasting poem\u2014
\nAnd the sun we all share
\nIs the face of God.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Novalis (Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr, Germany 1772-1801)<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Note:<\/p>\n
This document is from the Web site Novalis: Hymns to the Night<\/em> at:<\/p>\n