Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 9.djvu/354

320 Thou thought'st to overcome Him then, Rejoicing in His suffering: But He in triumph comes again To bind thee: Death! where is thy sting?

Speak, Hell! where is thy victory? Thy power destroyed and scattered see! Know'st thou not now the Highest's might? See, Satan, see thy rule o'erthrown! By thousand-varying pangs weighed down, Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night. As though by lightning struck thou liest. No gleam of rapture far or wide; In vain! no hope thou there descriest,— For me alone Messiah died!

A howling rises through the air, A trembling fills each dark vault there, When Christ to Hell is seen to come. She snarls with rage, but needs must cower Before our mighty hero's power; He signs—and Hell is straightway dumb. Before His voice the thunders break. On high His victor-banner blows; E'en angels at His fury quake, When Christ to the dread judgment goes.

Now speaks He, and His voice is thunder, He speaks, the rocks are rent in sunder. His breath is like devouring flames. Thus speaks He: "Tremble, ye accursed! He who from Eden hurled you erst, Your kingdom's overthrow proclaims. Look up! My children once were ye, Your arms against Me then ye turned, Ye fell, that ye might sinners be, Ye've now the wages that ye earned.