Page:Poems Schiller.djvu/121

O! scene sublime, can poet's dream transcend
 Its beauty; or the pencilings of art?
Do not enraptured angels downward bend,
 And smile blessings on each lonely heart.

Their kind devotions finished, now again
 The trumpet's peal upon the twilight falls:
A glad "Good-night" is piped by every Senn
 Before he seeks the shelter of his walls.
"Good-night," the rocks repeat, and the dells
 Flutter and tremble with the new-born sound;
Among the tall tree branches loud it swells,
 Then falls and dies along the mossy ground.

Now to his hut each weary herdsman hies,
 And night's deep silence broods on all the hills,
While slumber kindly veils the tired eyes
 From all the daylight's troubling ills;