HEINRICH HEINE - Repositories

l^eine* 21
MADAME DE STAEL.
This blue-stocking was a worse
scourge than war.
A
VISION.
Thou hapless earth, thy miseries I
know!
I see the fever raging in thy breast;
I see thee bleeding from a thousand
veins;
I see thy wounds, how they burst wide
agape.
And from them fiames gush ont, and
smoke, and blood.
I see thy all-defying giant sons.
Primeval brood, from dusky chasms ascending,
And swinging flaming torches in their
hands.
They fix their iron ladders, and dash up
Madly to storm the citadel of heaven;
And swarthy dwarfs climb after them,
and all
The golden stars above crash into dust.
With reckless hands they tear the golden
curtain
From God's own tent; the angel-hosts
fall down
ITpon their faces with a piercing cry ;
Upon His throne God sits, pale, ashy
pale.