| Song | To Calm This Restless Discontent |
| Artist | H.E.R.R. |
| Album | Vondel's Lucifer - First Movement |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Joost van den Vondel | |
| Chorus of Angels: | |
| *Strophe* | |
| How glares the noble front of Heaven! | |
| Why streams the holy light so red | |
| Upon our face, overspread | |
| With mournful mists from darkness driven? | |
| What sad cloud hath profaned | |
| That pure and never-stained | |
| Clear sapphire, wondrous bright. | |
| The fire, the flame, the light | |
| Of the resplendent Power, | |
| Omnipotence? Why doth that glow | |
| Of God as black as blood thus grow | |
| That in our aery bower | |
| So pleased our eyes? O Angels, say | |
| The cause of this deep gloom now dimming | |
| Your radiance? O'er Adam's sway | |
| On choral raptures ye were swimming, | |
| On Spirit breath, amid a glow | |
| That vault and choir and court below | |
| And towers and battlements o'erflooded | |
| With showers of gold, while joys unclouded | |
| Smiled from the brows of all that live: | |
| Who is it can the reason give? | |
| *Antistrophe* | |
| When Gabriel's trumpet, richly sounding, | |
| Inflamed our souls till a new song | |
| Of praise burst forth among | |
| Those dales, with roses fair abounding, | |
| 'Mid the celestial bowers | |
| Of Paradise, whose flowers | |
| Did ope, joyed by such dew | |
| Of praise, then upwards through | |
| The vast seemed Envy stealing. | |
| A countless host of Spirits dumb. | |
| And wan and pale and sad and grum, | |
| In crowds, dire woe revealing, | |
| Crept slowly past, with drooping eye, | |
| And forehead smooth now frowning rimple. | |
| The doves of Heaven here on high, | |
| Once innocent and pure and simple, | |
| Began to sigh, and seemed to grieve | |
| As if e'en Heaven they did believe | |
| Too small since Adam was created, | |
| And man for such a crown was fated. | |
| This stain offends the Eye of Light: | |
| It flames the face of the Infinite. | |
| In love we would yet mingle in their ranks: | |
| Again to calm this restless discontent. |
| zuo ci : Joost van den Vondel | |
| Chorus of Angels: | |
| Strophe | |
| How glares the noble front of Heaven! | |
| Why streams the holy light so red | |
| Upon our face, overspread | |
| With mournful mists from darkness driven? | |
| What sad cloud hath profaned | |
| That pure and neverstained | |
| Clear sapphire, wondrous bright. | |
| The fire, the flame, the light | |
| Of the resplendent Power, | |
| Omnipotence? Why doth that glow | |
| Of God as black as blood thus grow | |
| That in our aery bower | |
| So pleased our eyes? O Angels, say | |
| The cause of this deep gloom now dimming | |
| Your radiance? O' er Adam' s sway | |
| On choral raptures ye were swimming, | |
| On Spirit breath, amid a glow | |
| That vault and choir and court below | |
| And towers and battlements o' erflooded | |
| With showers of gold, while joys unclouded | |
| Smiled from the brows of all that live: | |
| Who is it can the reason give? | |
| Antistrophe | |
| When Gabriel' s trumpet, richly sounding, | |
| Inflamed our souls till a new song | |
| Of praise burst forth among | |
| Those dales, with roses fair abounding, | |
| ' Mid the celestial bowers | |
| Of Paradise, whose flowers | |
| Did ope, joyed by such dew | |
| Of praise, then upwards through | |
| The vast seemed Envy stealing. | |
| A countless host of Spirits dumb. | |
| And wan and pale and sad and grum, | |
| In crowds, dire woe revealing, | |
| Crept slowly past, with drooping eye, | |
| And forehead smooth now frowning rimple. | |
| The doves of Heaven here on high, | |
| Once innocent and pure and simple, | |
| Began to sigh, and seemed to grieve | |
| As if e' en Heaven they did believe | |
| Too small since Adam was created, | |
| And man for such a crown was fated. | |
| This stain offends the Eye of Light: | |
| It flames the face of the Infinite. | |
| In love we would yet mingle in their ranks: | |
| Again to calm this restless discontent. |
| zuò cí : Joost van den Vondel | |
| Chorus of Angels: | |
| Strophe | |
| How glares the noble front of Heaven! | |
| Why streams the holy light so red | |
| Upon our face, overspread | |
| With mournful mists from darkness driven? | |
| What sad cloud hath profaned | |
| That pure and neverstained | |
| Clear sapphire, wondrous bright. | |
| The fire, the flame, the light | |
| Of the resplendent Power, | |
| Omnipotence? Why doth that glow | |
| Of God as black as blood thus grow | |
| That in our aery bower | |
| So pleased our eyes? O Angels, say | |
| The cause of this deep gloom now dimming | |
| Your radiance? O' er Adam' s sway | |
| On choral raptures ye were swimming, | |
| On Spirit breath, amid a glow | |
| That vault and choir and court below | |
| And towers and battlements o' erflooded | |
| With showers of gold, while joys unclouded | |
| Smiled from the brows of all that live: | |
| Who is it can the reason give? | |
| Antistrophe | |
| When Gabriel' s trumpet, richly sounding, | |
| Inflamed our souls till a new song | |
| Of praise burst forth among | |
| Those dales, with roses fair abounding, | |
| ' Mid the celestial bowers | |
| Of Paradise, whose flowers | |
| Did ope, joyed by such dew | |
| Of praise, then upwards through | |
| The vast seemed Envy stealing. | |
| A countless host of Spirits dumb. | |
| And wan and pale and sad and grum, | |
| In crowds, dire woe revealing, | |
| Crept slowly past, with drooping eye, | |
| And forehead smooth now frowning rimple. | |
| The doves of Heaven here on high, | |
| Once innocent and pure and simple, | |
| Began to sigh, and seemed to grieve | |
| As if e' en Heaven they did believe | |
| Too small since Adam was created, | |
| And man for such a crown was fated. | |
| This stain offends the Eye of Light: | |
| It flames the face of the Infinite. | |
| In love we would yet mingle in their ranks: | |
| Again to calm this restless discontent. |