Can'st thy glory be defined in my words?
Fain I to try to justify it there?
Can'st thy strength be defined as that of herds
Of wild horses thund'ring towards their lair?
Should I resing to say such things of thee,
Thou would'st in pain and earthly chains be bound.
Thy lofty spirit should instead be free
To on its own a mortal's heart astound.
O spirit! Tear not my heart from my breast!
I keep it always closed to all but thy
Immortal soul and to thy peaceful rest,
When thou would'st hear my love-impassioned cry.
. O beautiful spirit! Can'st thee be true?
. Or be'st thy soul naught but what minds have grew?