For the Philadelphia Repository. HOFFNUNG. Wie des morgens helle licht Die dunkeln 'nachts durchbricht, Und die ganze welt erfrout Mit des tages herlichkeit So wann grosse traurigkeit-- Laest den menschen keine freud, Wann verzweiflung angst und schmertze Fuelt das arme, banges hertze. Geht die sonne _Hoffnungs_ auf, Und im traur'gem brust sein lauf Beginnt; dann flichtet traurigkeit, Und die brust ist voller freud. Von verzweiflung, angst und schmertze Ist befreyt das bange hertze, O! es bringt die _Hoffnungs_ sonne, Seeligkeit, und grosse wonne. --ADELIO. * * *A poetical translation is requested. _Phila. Repos._, IV-56, Feb. 18, 1804, Phila. For the Philadelphia Repository. TRANSLATION Of Adelio's German Lines in last Repository. HOPE. As does the morn's resplendent light Dispel the gloomy shades of night, And the whole universe delight, With the day's illustrious sight-- So when the adverse fates decree Nothing to man but misery, When they despair and pain impart To the keen agonized heart-- Then does his course, _Hope's_ sun from rest Take thro' the troubled heaving breast; Then disappears adversity, And leaves behind felicity. Exempt from horror is the breast, Despair and pain sink into rest; The sun of _Hope_ affords delight, And happiness supremely bright. Translator. _Phila. Repos._, IV-64, Feb. 25, 1804, Phila. PASSAGE FROM KLOPSTOCK'S MESSIAH. So at the midnight hour draws nigh to the slumbering city Pestilence. Couch'd on his broad spread wings lurks under the rampart Death, bale-breathing. As yet unalarmed are the peaceable dwellers; Close to his nightly-lamp the sage yet watches; and high friends Over wine not unhallow'd, in shelter of odorous bowers, Talk of the soul and of friendship, and weigh their immortal duration. But too soon shall frightful Death, in a day of affliction Pouncing over them, over them spread; in a day of moaning and anguish.... When with wringing of hands the bride for the bridegroom loud wails; When, now of all her children bereft, the desperate mother Furious curses the day on which she bore, and was born ... when Weary with hollower eye, amid the carcases totter Even the buriers ... till the sent Death-angel, descending, Thoughtful on thunder-clouds, beholds all lonesome and silent, Gazes the wide desolation, and long broods over the graves, fixt.