It matters little to me to enquire What spirit led me hither to this place. I feel life's powers revive in this new land, Whose light doth seem to widen mine own breast; In my pulse-beat I feel the whole world's might; And premonitions of exalted deeds Thrill in my heart. I will translate in words The revelation of this beauteous realm, That hath refreshed me in such wondrous wise; And souls of men shall bloom, as choicest flowers If I can pour into their life on earth The inspiration flowing from these founts. (Lightning and thunder from the depths and heights.) STRADER: Why quake the depths, and why resound the heights? When hope's young dreams surge upward in the soul? (Lightning and thunder.) SPIRIT: To human dreamers words of hope like these Sound proud indeed; but in the depths of earth The vain illusions of mistaken thought Awake such thunderous echoes evermore. Ye mortals hear them only at those times When ye draw nigh to my domain. Ye think To build exalted temples unto Truth, And yet your work's effects do but unchain Storm-spirits in primeval depths of earth. Nay more, the spirits must destroy whole worlds, That deeds ye do in realms where time hath sway May not cause devastation and cold death Through all the ages of eternity. STRADER: So these eternal ages must regard As empty fantasy what seems the truth To man's best observation and research. (Lightning and thunder.) SPIRIT: An empty fantasy, so long as sense Doth only search in realms to spirit strange. STRADER: Thou may'st well call a dreamer that friend's soul Which in the joy of youth its goal doth set With such a noble strength and high desire; But in mine aged heart thy words fall dead Despite their summoned aid of thunderous storms. I tore myself from cloistered quietude To proud achievement in my search for truth. In life's storm-centres many a year I stood, And men had confidence in me, and what I taught them through my deep strong sense for truth. (Lightning and thunder.) SPIRIT: 'Tis fitting for thee to confess that none Can tell whence stream the fountains of our thought, Nor where the fundaments of Being lie. STRADER: Oh this same speech, which in youth's hopeful days So oft with chill persistence pierced my soul When thought-foundations quaked, which once seemed firm! (Lightning and thunder.) SPIRIT: If thou dost fail to gain the victory O'er me with those blunt weapons of thy thought Thou art a fleeting phantom, nothing more, Formed by thine own deluded imagery. STRADER: