Thou Art as Glorious to This Nightas the Winged Messenger of Heaven

Source: Romeo and Juliet

Final update June 3, 2021.

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„Daughter of sky, fair fine art k! the silence of thy face up is pleasant! Thou comest forth in loveliness. The stars attend thy blue course in the east. The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon! They brighten their brownish sides. Who is like thee in sky, light of the silent dark? The stars are ashamed in thy presence. They turn away their sparkling optics. Whither dost 1000 retire from thy class, when the darkness of thy countenance grows? Hast g thy hall, like Ossian? Dwellest 1000 in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters fallen from sky? Are they who rejoiced with thee, at night, no more? Yes! they have fallen, fair lite! and thou dost frequently retire to mourn. But thou thyself shalt fail, one night; and leave thy blue path in heaven. The stars will and then lift their heads: they, who were ashamed in thy presence, will rejoice. Thou fine art now clothed with thy effulgence. Look from thy gates in the heaven. Flare-up the cloud, O wind! that the daughter of night may look forth! that the shaggy mountains may brighten, and the ocean roll its white waves in calorie-free."

—  James Macpherson Scottish author, poet, translator, and politician 1736 - 1796

"Dar-thula"
The Poems of Ossian

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„Thou art not lone, and grand dost not vest to thyself. Thou art i of My voices, thou art one of My artillery. Speak and strike for Me."

—  Romain Rolland French author 1866 - 1944

Jean-Christophe (1904 - 1912), Journey'southward End: The Burning Bush (1911)
Context: "Yard art not solitary, and thou dost not vest to thyself. Thou fine art one of My voices, k art one of My artillery. Speak and strike for Me. But if the arm exist cleaved, or the voice be weary, then still I hold My footing: I fight with other voices, other artillery than thine. Though k fine art conquered, withal art thou of the regular army which is never vanquished. Think that and k wilt fight even unto death."
"Lord, I accept suffered much!"
"Thinkest k that I practise not suffer also? For ages death has hunted Me and nothingness has lain in wait for Me. It is simply by victory in the fight that I can make My way. The river of life is cherry with My blood."
"Fighting, always fighting?"
"Nosotros must always fight. God is a fighter, even He Himself. God is a conquistador. He is a devouring lion. Nothingness hems Him in and He hurls it downward. 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 it exists. Do thy duty in peace and leave the residual to the Gods."

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„O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers! Whence are thy beams, O sunday! thy everlasting low-cal? Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in the sky; the moon, common cold and pale, sinks in the western wave; but yard thyself movest alone. Who tin be a companion of thy class? The oaks of the mountains fall; the mountains themselves decay with years; the bounding main shrinks and grows again; the moon herself is lost in heaven: but thou art for ever the aforementioned, rejoicing in the brightness of thy course. When the world is night with tempests, when thunder rolls and lightning flies, thou lookest in thy beauty from the clouds, and laughest at the tempest. Just to Ossian k lookest in vain, for he beholds thy beams no more: whether thy xanthous hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou tremblest at the gates of the west. But k art, perhaps, like me, for a season; thy years volition have an end. Thou shalt sleep in thy clouds, careless of the voice of the morning. Exult so, O sunday, in the strength of thy youth!"

—  James Macpherson Scottish writer, poet, translator, and political leader 1736 - 1796

"Carthon", pp. 163–164
The Poems of Ossian

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