Say, where is now that glorious race,
where now are the singers
Who, with the accents of life, listening nations
enthralled,
Sung down from heaven the gods, and sung mankind
up to heaven,
And who the spirit bore up high on the pinions of
song?
Ah! the singers still live; the actions only are
wanting,
And to awake the glad harp, only a welcoming ear.
Happy bards of a happy world! Your life-teeming
accents
Flew round from mouth unto mouth, gladdening every
race.
With the devotion with which the gods were received,
each one welcomed
That which the genius for him, plastic and breathing,
then formed.
With the glow of the song were inflamed the listeners
senses,
And with the listeners sense, nourished the
singer the glow-
Nourished and cleansed it,-fortunate one!
for whom in the voices
Of the people still clear echoed the soul of the
song,
And to whom from without appeared, in life, the great
godhead,
Whom the bard of these days scarcely can feel in
his breast.
© e-libr.com
feedback