歌曲 | To Calm This Restless Discontent |
歌手 | H.E.R.R. |
专辑 | Vondel's Lucifer - First Movement |
作词 : Joost van den Vondel | |
Chorus of Angels: | |
*Strophe* | |
How glares the noble front of Heaven! | |
Why streams the holy light so red | |
Upon our face, overspread | |
With mournful mists from darkness driven? | |
What sad cloud hath profaned | |
That pure and never-stained | |
Clear sapphire, wondrous bright. | |
The fire, the flame, the light | |
Of the resplendent Power, | |
Omnipotence? Why doth that glow | |
Of God as black as blood thus grow | |
That in our aery bower | |
So pleased our eyes? O Angels, say | |
The cause of this deep gloom now dimming | |
Your radiance? O'er Adam's sway | |
On choral raptures ye were swimming, | |
On Spirit breath, amid a glow | |
That vault and choir and court below | |
And towers and battlements o'erflooded | |
With showers of gold, while joys unclouded | |
Smiled from the brows of all that live: | |
Who is it can the reason give? | |
*Antistrophe* | |
When Gabriel's trumpet, richly sounding, | |
Inflamed our souls till a new song | |
Of praise burst forth among | |
Those dales, with roses fair abounding, | |
'Mid the celestial bowers | |
Of Paradise, whose flowers | |
Did ope, joyed by such dew | |
Of praise, then upwards through | |
The vast seemed Envy stealing. | |
A countless host of Spirits dumb. | |
And wan and pale and sad and grum, | |
In crowds, dire woe revealing, | |
Crept slowly past, with drooping eye, | |
And forehead smooth now frowning rimple. | |
The doves of Heaven here on high, | |
Once innocent and pure and simple, | |
Began to sigh, and seemed to grieve | |
As if e'en Heaven they did believe | |
Too small since Adam was created, | |
And man for such a crown was fated. | |
This stain offends the Eye of Light: | |
It flames the face of the Infinite. | |
In love we would yet mingle in their ranks: | |
Again to calm this restless discontent. |
zuò cí : Joost van den Vondel | |
Chorus of Angels: | |
Strophe | |
How glares the noble front of Heaven! | |
Why streams the holy light so red | |
Upon our face, overspread | |
With mournful mists from darkness driven? | |
What sad cloud hath profaned | |
That pure and neverstained | |
Clear sapphire, wondrous bright. | |
The fire, the flame, the light | |
Of the resplendent Power, | |
Omnipotence? Why doth that glow | |
Of God as black as blood thus grow | |
That in our aery bower | |
So pleased our eyes? O Angels, say | |
The cause of this deep gloom now dimming | |
Your radiance? O' er Adam' s sway | |
On choral raptures ye were swimming, | |
On Spirit breath, amid a glow | |
That vault and choir and court below | |
And towers and battlements o' erflooded | |
With showers of gold, while joys unclouded | |
Smiled from the brows of all that live: | |
Who is it can the reason give? | |
Antistrophe | |
When Gabriel' s trumpet, richly sounding, | |
Inflamed our souls till a new song | |
Of praise burst forth among | |
Those dales, with roses fair abounding, | |
' Mid the celestial bowers | |
Of Paradise, whose flowers | |
Did ope, joyed by such dew | |
Of praise, then upwards through | |
The vast seemed Envy stealing. | |
A countless host of Spirits dumb. | |
And wan and pale and sad and grum, | |
In crowds, dire woe revealing, | |
Crept slowly past, with drooping eye, | |
And forehead smooth now frowning rimple. | |
The doves of Heaven here on high, | |
Once innocent and pure and simple, | |
Began to sigh, and seemed to grieve | |
As if e' en Heaven they did believe | |
Too small since Adam was created, | |
And man for such a crown was fated. | |
This stain offends the Eye of Light: | |
It flames the face of the Infinite. | |
In love we would yet mingle in their ranks: | |
Again to calm this restless discontent. |