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E-book Hyperion or the Hermit in Greece

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Penilaian

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The beloved soil of my fatherland gives me joy and grief once more.I’m up now every morning on the heights of the Isthmus of Corinth, and often, like the bee from flower to flower, my spirit flits back and forth between the seas to right and left that cool the feet of my glowing mountains.One of those two gulfs would specially have delighted me, had I stood here some thousand years ago.Then, like a conquering demi-god between the glorious wilderness of Helicon and Parnassus, where the rosy light of dawn plays on a hundred snow-covered peaks, and the paradisal plain of Sicyon, the shining gulf surged in towards the city of joy, youthful Corinth, pouring forth before its favourite the accumulated bounty from all corners of the earth.But what is that to me? The howl of the jackal, singing its wild dirge amidst the rubble of antiquity, jolts me from my dreams.Happy the man for whom a flourishing fatherland gladdens and fortifies the heart! Being reminded of mine is like being pitched into the mire, like having the coffin lid slammed shut over me, and whenever anyone calls me Greek, I always feel I’m being throttled with a dog collar.And see, my Bellarmin! whenever I’d burst out with such remarks, as often as not with tears of anger in my eyes, along came the wise gentlemen who so delight in gibbering among you Germans, those wretches for whom a grieving disposition is such a welcome opportunity to unload heir maxims; they were in their element, and made so bold to tell me: ‘Don’t moan, act!’ Oh, that I had never acted! how many hopes I’d now be richer by! — Yes, just forget that men exist, starving, vexed and deeply harassed heart! and return whence you came, into the arms of nature, never-changing, beautiful and tranquil.Hyperion to Bellarmin [II]I have nothing I might truly call my own.Far away and dead are those I loved, and through no voice I hear from them, nothing ever more.My business on earth is done. I set about my work with a will, bled over it, and made the world not a penny richer.I return alone and unrenowned and wander through my fatherland, stretching about me like a vast graveyard, and it may be that what awaits me is the knife of the hunter who keeps us Greeks for sport like forest game.But you still shine, sun of heaven! You still green, holy earth! Still the rivers rush into the sea, and shady trees whisper in the height of day. Spring’s blissful song sings my mortal thoughts to sleep. The plenitude of the all-living world nourishes and fills with drunkenness my starving spirit.O blissful nature! I can’t tell what comes over me when I lift up my eyes before your beauty, but all the joy of heaven is in the tears I weep before you, the lover before the beloved. My whole being stills and listens when the gentle ripple of the breeze plays about my breast. Often, lost in the immensity of blue, I look up into the aether and out into the hallowed sea, and it’s as if a kindred spirit opened its arms to me, as if the pain of isolation were dissolved in the life of the godhead. To be one with everything, that is the life of the godhead, that is the heaven of man.To be one with everything that lives, to return in blissful self-oblivion into the all of nature, that is the summit of thoughts and joys, that is the holy mountain pinnacle, the place of eternal peace where noon loses its sultriness and the thunder its voice and the boiling sea becomes like a waving corn-field.

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Ketersediaan

Informasi Detail

Judul Seri

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No. Panggil

920 GAS h

Penerbit

London : Open Book Publishers., 2019

Deskripsi Fisik

237 hlm

Bahasa

English

ISBN/ISSN

9781783746576

Klasifikasi

920

Tipe Isi

text

Tipe Media

computer

Tipe Pembawa

online resource

Edisi

-

Subjek

Biography, Obituary

Info Detail Spesifik

-

Pernyataan Tanggungjawab

-

Versi lain/terkait

Lampiran Berkas

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