Hymns To The Night : 1
Before all the wondrous shows of the widespread space around him, what living,
sentient thing loves not the all-joyous light – with its colors, its rays and
undulations, its gentle omnipresence in the form of the wakening Day? The giant-
world of the unresting constellations inhales it as the innermost soul of life, and
floats dancing in its blue flood – the sparkling, ever-tranquil stone, the
thoughtful, imbibing plant, and the wild, burning multiform beast inhales it – but
more than all, the lordly stranger with the sense-filled eyes, the swaying walk,
and the sweetly closed, melodious lips. Like a king over earthly nature, it rouses
every force to countless transformations, binds and unbinds innumerable
alliances, hangs its heavenly form around every earthly substance. – Its
presence alone reveals the marvelous splendor of the kingdoms of the world.
Aside I turn to the holy, unspeakable, mysterious Night. Afar lies the world –
sunk in a deep grave – waste and lonely is its place. In the chords of the bosom
blows a deep sadness. I am ready to sink away in drops of dew, and mingle with
the ashes. – The distances of memory, the wishes of youth, the dreams of
childhood, the brief joys and vain hopes of a whole long life, arise in gray
garments, like an evening vapor after the sunset. In other regions the light has
pitched its joyous tents. What if it should never return to its children, who wait
for it with the faith of innocence?
What springs up all at once so sweetly boding in my heart, and stills the soft air
of sadness? Dost thou also take a pleasure in us, dark Night? What holdest thou
under thy mantle, that with hidden power affects my soul? Precious balm drips
from thy hand out of its bundle of poppies. Thou upliftest the heavy-laden wings
of the soul. Darkly and inexpressibly are we moved – joy-startled, I see a grave
face that, tender and worshipful, inclines toward me, and, amid manifold
entangled locks, reveals the youthful loveliness of the Mother. How poor and
childish a thing seems to me now the Light – how joyous and welcome the
departure of the day – because the Night turns away from thee thy servants,
you now strew in the gulfs of space those flashing globes, to proclaim thy
omnipotence – thy return – in seasons of thy absence. More heavenly than
those glittering stars we hold the eternal eyes which the Night hath opened
within us. Farther they see than the palest of those countless hosts – needing no
aid from the light, they penetrate the depths of a loving soul – that fills a loftier
region with bliss ineffable. Glory to the queen of the world, to the great prophet
of the holier worlds, to the guardian of blissful love – she sends thee to me –
thou tenderly beloved – the gracious sun of the Night, – now am I awake – for
now am I thine and mine – thou hast made me know the Night
Novalis