Translations. - The Lost Church. (From Uhland.)

In the far forest, overhead,      A bell is often heard obscurely;     How long since first, no one can tell--      Nor can report explain it surely:     From the lost church, the rumour hath,      Out on the winds the ringing goeth;     Once full of pilgrims was the path--      Now where to find it, no one knoweth.     Deep in the wood I lately went      Where no foot-trodden way is lying;     From times corrupt, on evil bent,      My heart to God went out in sighing:     There, in the wild wood's deep repose,      I heard the ringing somewhat nearer;     The higher that my longing rose      Its peal grew fuller and came clearer.     My thoughts upon themselves did brood;      My sense was with the sound so busy     That I have never understood      How I did climb that steep so dizzy.     It seemed more than a hundred years      Had passed me over, dreaming, sighing--     When far above the clouds appears      An open space in sunlight lying.     Dark-blue the heavens above it bowed;      The sun was radiant, large, and glowing;     And, see, a minister's structure proud      Stood in the rich light, golden showing.     The clouds around it, sunny-clear,      Seemed bearing it aloft like pinions;     Its spire-point seemed to disappear,      Slow vanishing in heaven's dominions.     The bell's clear tones, of rapture full,      Boomed in the tower and made it quiver;     No mortal hand that rope did pull--      A dumb storm made it swing and shiver.     It seemed to heave my throbbing breast,      That heavenly storm with torrent blended:     With wavering step, yet hopeful quest,      Into the church my way I wended.     What met me there as in I trode      With syllables cannot be painted;     Darksome yet clear, the windows glowed      With forms of all the martyrs sainted.     Then saw I, radiantly unfurled,      Form swell to life and break its barriers;     I looked abroad into a world      Of holy women and God's warriors.     Down at the alter I kneeled soft,      With love and prayer my heart allegiant:     Upon the ceiling, far aloft,      Was painted Heaven's resplendent pageant;     But when again I lift mine eyes,      Lo, the high vault has flown asunder!     The upward gate wide open lies,      And every veil unveils a wonder.     What gloriousness I then beheld      With silent worship, speechless wonder;     What blessed sounds upon me swelled,      Like organs' and like trumpets' thunder--     No human words could ever tell!--      But who for such is sighing sorest,     Let him give heed unto the bell      That dimly soundeth in the forest.