As the days pass, darkness overwhelms me I see not the divine light; hear not that oracle Childhood fancies, dreams I think countless All those yearn to believe as truth…
From eastern quarters now The sun's up-wandering. His rays on the rock's brow And hill's side squandering; Be glad, my soul! and sing amidst thy pleasure, Fly from the house of dust, Up with thy thanks, and trust To heaven's azure!