Thine eye is the light of the living, no lamp for the dead;
O, lift up the light of thine eye on the dark of our dread.
Who hath blinded thee? who hath prevailed on thee? who hath
ensnared?
Who hath broken thy bow, and the shafts for thy battle
prepared? 1390
Have they found out a fetter to bind thee, a chain for thine
arm that was bared?
Be the name of thy conqueror set forth, and the might of thy
master declared.
O God, fair God of the morning, O glory of day,
What ails thee to cast from thy forehead its garland away?
To pluck from thy temples their chaplet enwreathed of the light,
And bind on the brows of thy godhead a frontlet of night?
Thou hast loosened the necks of thine horses, and goaded their
flanks with affright,
To the race of a course that we know not on ways that are hid from
our sight.
As a wind through the darkness the wheels of their chariot
are whirled,
And the light of its passage is night on the face of the
world.
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