2. BEETHOVEN. Adagio, op. 27.
O sorrow poignant, burdened and petrified,
O sorrow of statues, which display in temples
Their white and marble-wrought nakedness to pilgrims,
Enter my spirit!
Enter my spirit, wearied with long living.
Rise amid fruitless and overcast days, that all in sable,
Trail one upon the other in sluggish greyness,
Barrenly listless.
O sorrow of exalted, majestical rhythms,
O sorrow of funereal, billowing rhythms,
Where in darkened shrine the black-robed priest
Sanctifies a requiem.
Ah bitter vainness of hope! All must end.
All vanishes, fades, congealed and chilled in ashes.
All outlived and marred. Allis wasted,
Mere shadow amid shadows.
O heaviness amid unsounding, motionless heaviness.
O hand of death, laid suddenly upon the forehead.
O horror of ending, that at the last, sets aquiver the body,
Which long has been dying.
