O Speak Again Bright Angel for Though Art as Glorious to This Night
„O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art
Equally glorious to this night, being o'er my head
As is a winged messenger of heaven"
Source: Romeo and Juliet
Last update June 3, 2021.
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„Daughter of heaven, fair art thou! the silence of thy face is pleasant! Thou comest forth in loveliness. The stars attend thy bluish form in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon! They burnish their chocolate-brown sides. Who is like thee in sky, light of the silent night? The stars are ashamed in thy presence. They turn abroad their sparkling eyes. Whither dost thou retire from thy class, when the darkness of thy eyebrow grows? Hast thou thy hall, like Ossian? Dwellest thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters fallen from heaven? Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more? Yep! they have fallen, fair light! and thou dost often retire to mourn. But yard thyself shalt fail, i dark; and leave thy bluish path in sky. The stars will and then lift their heads: they, who were ashamed in thy presence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Burst the deject, O air current! that the girl of night may await forth! that the shaggy mountains may burnish, and the sea coil its white waves in light."
— James Macpherson Scottish writer, poet, translator, and politico 1736 - 1796
"Dar-thula"
The Poems of Ossian
„M art not alone, and thou dost non belong to thyself. Yard art one of My voices, g fine art one of My arms. Speak and strike for Me."
— Romain Rolland French author 1866 - 1944
Jean-Christophe (1904 - 1912), Journey'south Stop: The Burning Bush-league (1911)
Context: "Thou art not alone, and thou dost non belong to thyself. Grand art one of My voices, thou art 1 of My arms. Speak and strike for Me. Simply if the arm exist broken, or the voice exist weary, and so still I hold My footing: I fight with other voices, other arms than thine. Though thou art conquered, still art m of the army which is never vanquished. Remember that and one thousand wilt fight fifty-fifty unto death."
"Lord, I have suffered much!"
"Thinkest thou that I practice not suffer also? For ages death has hunted Me and nothingness has lain in look for Me. It is only by victory in the fight that I can make My manner. The river of life is reddish with My claret."
"Fighting, always fighting?"
"We must ever fight. God is a fighter, fifty-fifty He Himself. God is a conquistador. He is a devouring lion. Nothingness hems Him in and He hurls it downwards. And the rhythm of the fight is the supreme harmony. Such harmony is not for thy mortal ears. It is enough for thee to know that information technology exists. Do thy duty in peace and go out the rest to the Gods."
„O thousand that rollest above, circular every bit the shield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sun! thy everlasting light? M comest forth in thy awful dazzler; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave; but thousand thyself movest lone. Who can be a companion of thy course? The oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains themselves decay with years; the ocean shrinks and grows once again; the moon herself is lost in heaven: but thou art for ever the aforementioned, rejoicing in the brightness of thy form. When the earth is night with tempests, when thunder rolls and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the storm. But to Ossian thou lookest in vain, for he beholds thy beams no more than: whether thy yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or k tremblest at the gates of the west. Simply thou art, perhaps, like me, for a flavour; thy years volition have an finish. G shalt sleep in thy clouds, devil-may-care of the voice of the morn. Exult then, O sun, in the force of thy youth!"
— James Macpherson Scottish writer, poet, translator, and politico 1736 - 1796
"Carthon", pp. 163–164
The Poems of Ossian
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