Joy is the mainspring in the whole

Of endless Nature's calm rotation;
Joy moves the dazzling wheels that roll

In the great Timepiece of Creation;
Joy breathes on buds, and flowers they are;
Joy beckons - suns come forth from heaven;
Joy rolls the spheres in realms afar,—

Ne'er to thy glass, dim Wisdom, given!

Chorus Joyous as suns careering gay

Chorus

Along their paths on high,

March, brothers, march your dauntless way,
As chiefs to victory!

Joy from Truth's pure and lambent fires,

Smiles out upon the ardent seeker;

Joy leads to virtue man's desires,

And cheers as Suffering's step grows weaker.

High from the sunny slopes of Faith,

The gales her waving banners buoy;

And through the shattered vaults of Death,

Men like the Gods themselves may be,
Though men may not the Gods requite;

Go soothe the pangs of Misery,

Go share the gladness with delight.

Revenge and hatred both forgot,

Have naught but pardon for thy foe;
May sharp repentance grieve him not,
No curse one tear of ours bestow!

Chorus Let all the world be peace and love, Cancel thy debt-book with thy brother; For God shall judge of us above,

As we shall judge each other!

Joy sparkles to us from the bowl:
Behold the juice whose golden color
To meekness melts the savage soul,
And gives Despair a hero's valor.

Up, brothers! Lo, we crown the cup!
Lo, the wine flashes to the brim!
Let the bright fount spring heavenward! Up!
To the Good Spirit this glass! To him!

Chorus Praised by the ever-whirling ring
Of stars, and tuneful Seraphim,-
To the Good Spirit, the Father-King
In heaven! This glass to him!

Firm mind to bear what fate bestows;
Comfort to tears in sinless eyes;
Faith kept alike with friends and foes;
Man's oath eternal as the skies;

Manhood, the thrones of Kings to girth,
Though bought by life or limb the prize;
Success to merit's honest worth;

Perdition to the brood of lies!

Chorus-Draw closer in the holy ring;

Swear by the wine-cup's golden river,
Swear by the stars, and by their King,
To keep this vow forever.

Bulwer's Translation.

THE GODS OF GREECE

E IN the age gone by,

YR

Who ruled the world. a world how lovely then!
And guided still the steps of happy men

In the light leading-strings of careless joy!
Ah, flourished then your service of delight!

How different, oh how different, in the day

When thy sweet fanes with many a wreath were bright, O Venus Amathusia!

Then, through a veil of dreams

Woven by song, truth's youthful beauty glowed,
And life's redundant and rejoicing streams
Gave to the soulless, soul-where'er they flowed.
Man gifted Nature with divinity

To lift and link her to the breast of love;
All things betrayed to the initiate eye

The track of gods above!

Where lifeless- fixed afar

A flaming ball to our dull sense is given,
Phoebus Apollo in his golden car
In silent glory swept the fields of heaven!
On yonder hill the Oread was adored;

In yonder tree the Dryad held her home;
And from her urn the gentle Naiad poured
The wavelet's silver foam.

Yon bay chaste Daphne wreathed;

Yon stone was mournful Niobe's mute cell;

Low through yon sedges pastoral Syrinx breathed,
And through those groves wailed the sweet Philomel,
The tears of Ceres swelled in yonder rill-

Shed for Proserpina to Hades borne;
And for her lost Adonis, yonder hill

Heard Cytherea mourn!

Heaven's shapes were charmed unto

The mortal race of old Deucalion:

Pyrrha's fair daughter humanly to woo,
Came down, in shepherd's guise, Latona's son;
Between men, heroes, gods, harmonious then,
Love wove sweet links and sympathies divine,
Blest Amathusia,-heroes, gods, and men,
Equals before thy shrine!

Not to that culture gay,

Stern self-denial or sharp penance wan!

Well might each heart be happy in that day,
For gods, the happy ones, were kin to man!

The beautiful alone the holy there!

No pleasure shamed the gods of that young race;
So that the chaste Camenæ favoring were,
And the subduing Grace!

A palace every shrine;

Your very sports heroic;-yours the crown
Of contests hallowed to a power divine,
As rushed the chariots thundering to renown.
Fair round the altar where the incense breathed,
Moved your melodious dance inspired; and fair
Above victorious brows, the garland wreathed

Sweet leaves round odorous hair!

XXII-807

The lively Thyrsus-swinger,

And the wild car the exulting panthers bore,

Announced the presence of the rapture-bringer; Bounded the satyr and blithe faun before;

And Mænads, as the frenzy stung the soul,

Hymned in their madding dance the glorious wine, As ever beckoned to the lusty bowl

The ruddy host divine!

Before the bed of death

No ghastly spectre stood; but from the porch
Of life-the lip-one kiss inhaled the breath,
And the mute graceful genius lowered a torch.
The judgment balance of the realms below,
A judge himself of mortal lineage held;
The very Furies, at the Thracian's woe,
Were moved and music-spelled.

In the Elysian grove

The shades renewed the pleasures life held dear:
The faithful spouse rejoined remembered love,
And rushed along the meads the charioteer;
There Linus poured the old accustomed strain;
Admetus there Alcestis still could greet; won
Orestes hath his faithful friend again,

His arrows Pœas's son.

More glorious then the meeds

That in their strife with labor nerved the brave,
To the great doer of renowned deeds,
The Hebe and the heaven the Thunderer gave.
Before the rescued rescuer of the dead,

Bowed down the silent and immortal host;
And the twin stars their guiding lustre shed
On the bark tempest-tost!

Art thou, fair world, no more?

Return, thou virgin bloom on nature's face; -
Ah, only on the minstrel's magic shore,
Can we the footstep of sweet fable trace!
The meadows mourn for the old hallowing life;
Vainly we search the earth, of gods bereft;
Where once the warm and living shapes were rife,
Shadows alone are left!

Cold from the north has gone

Over the flowers the blast that killed their May;
And to enrich the worship of the One,

A universe of gods must pass away!
Mourning, I search on yonder starry steeps,
But thee no more, Selene, there I see!
And through the woods I call, and o'er the deeps,
And-Echo answers me!

Deaf to the joys she gives,

Blind to the pomp of which she is possessed,
Unconscious of the spiritual power that lives
Around and rules her, by our bliss unblessed,
Dull to the art that colors or creates,—

Like the dead timepiece, godless nature creeps
Her plodding round, and by the leaden weights
The slavish motion keeps.

To-morrow to receive

New life, she digs her proper grave to-day;

And icy moons with weary sameness weave From their own light their fullness and decay. Home to the poets' land the gods are flown; Light use in them that later world discerns, Which, the diviner leading-strings outgrown, On its own axle turns.

Home! and with them are gone

The hues they gazed on and the tones they heard;
Life's beauty and life's melody; — alone
Broods o'er the desolate void the lifeless word:
Yet rescued from Time's deluge, still they throng
Unseen the Pindus they were wont to cherish:
Ah, that which gains immortal life in song,

To mortal life must perish!

Bulwer's Translation.