Full-blooming moon, in thy radiance, Like flowing gold shines the sea. With daylight clearness, yet twilight enchantment, Thy beams lie over the wide, level beach. And in the pure, blue starless heavens, Float the white clouds, Like colossal images of gods Of gleaming marble. No more again! those are no clouds! They are themselves--the gods of Hellas, Who erst so joyously governed the world, But now, supplanted and dead, Yonder, like monstrous ghosts, must fare, Through the midnight skies. Amazed and strangely dazzled, I contemplate The ethereal Pantheon. The solemnly mute, awfully agitated, Gigantic forms. There is Chronos yonder, the king of heaven; Snow-white are the curls of his head, The world-renowned Olympus-shaking curls. He holds in his hand the quenched lightning, In his face dwell misfortune and grief; But even yet the olden pride. Those were better days, oh Zeus, When thou didst celestially divert thyself With youths and nymphs and hecatombs. But the gods themselves, reign not forever; The young supplant the old, As thou thyself, thy hoary father, And thy Titan-uncle didst supplant Jupiter-Parricida! Thee also, I recognize, haughty Juno; Despite all thy jealous care, Another has wrested thy sceptre from thee, And thou art no longer Queen of Heaven. And thy great eyes are blank, And thy lily arms are powerless, And nevermore may thy vengeance smite The divinely-quickened Virgin, And the miracle-performing son of God. Thee also I recognize, Pallas Athena! With thy shield and thy wisdom, could'st thou not avert The ruin of the gods? Also thee I recognize, thee also, Aphrodite! Once the golden, now the silvern! 'Tis true that the love-charmed zone still adorns thee But I shudder with horror at thy beauty. And if thy gracious body were to favor me Like other heroes, I should die of terror. Thou seemest to me a goddess-corpse, Venus Libitina! No longer glances toward thee with love, Yonder the dread Ares! How melancholy looks Phoebus Apollo The youth. His lyre is silent, Which once so joyously resounded at the feast of the gods. Still sadder looks Hephaistos. And indeed nevermore shall the limper Stumble into the service of Hebe, And nimbly pour forth to the assemblage The luscious nectar. And long ago was extinguished The unextinguishable laughter of the gods.