_Chorus:_ Let heaven and heaven's creator mourn, The fertile earth, the wandering wave 1055 Upon the restless sea. And thou, Who over lands and ocean's plains Dost shed thy light, whose beauteous face Drives night away, O glowing Sun, Grieve more than all. For equally 1060 Thy risings had Alcides seen, And eke thy settings; both thy homes Were known to him. His spirit loose From monstrous madness; loose him, ye Who rule above. His mind restore To sanity again. And thou, 1065 O Sleep, subduer of our ills, The spirit's rest, thou better part Of human life, swift-wingéd one, Astraea's child, of cruel Death The sluggish brother, mixing false 1070 With true, prescient of future things, But oftenest of misery; O sire of all things, gate of life, Day's respite and the comrade true Of night, who com'st impartially To king and slaves, with gentle hand The wearied spirit comforting; 1075 Thou who dost force the race of men Who quail at mortal doom, to gain A foretaste of the sleep of death: Subdue and overwhelm him quite With heavy stupor; let his limbs, Unconquered hitherto, be held Fast bound in chains of deepest sleep; Take not the spell from his fierce heart, 1080 Until his former mind return To its accustomed course. But see, prone on the ground he lies, His savage dreams in his fierce heart Still hold their sway. Not yet, alas, Is his dire madness overcome. Accustomed to recline his head 1085 Upon his heavy club, see now, He feels about with empty hand To find the ponderous trunk, his arms With fruitless motion tossed. Not yet Has all the fever from his veins Been driven out, but rages on; As waves, by mighty tempests vexed, 1090 Toss wildly on and swell with rage, Although the winds have ceased to blow. Oh, calm this tempest in his soul; Let piety and manly strength Return; or, rather, let his mind 1095 Be still by mad impulses stirred, And his blind error go the way It has begun. For madness now Alone can make him innocent. To have the hands unstained by guilt Is best, but next to this is sin Done in unconsciousness. Now let thy breast resound with blows, 1100 And let those arms which once have borne The heavens up be smitten now By thy victorious hands; thy cries Be heard throughout the realms of air, By her who rules the world of night, 1105 And Cerberus crouching in his cave, His neck still burdened with thy chains. Let Chaos with the dolorous sound