Letra de When the moon is on the wave

When the moon is on the wave,
And the glow-worm in the grass,
And the meteor on the grave,
And the wisp on the morass
When the falling stars are shooting,
And the answer´d owls are hooting,
And the silent leaves are still
In the shadow of the hill,
Shall my soul be upon thine,
With a power and with a sign.

Though thy slumber may be deep,
Yet thy spirit shall not sleep;
There are shades which will not vanish,
There are thoughts thou canst not banish,
By a power to thee unknown,
Thou canst never be alone;
Thou art wrapt as with a shroud,
Thou art gather´d in a cloud;
And for ever shalt thou dwell
In the spirit of this spell.

Though thou seest me not pass by,
Thou shalt feel me with thine eye
As a thing that, though unseen,
Must be near thee, and hath been;
And when in that secret dread
Thou hast turn´d around thy head,
Thou shalt marvel i am not
As thy shadow on the spot,
And the power which thou dost feel
Shall be what thou dost feel
Shall be what thou must conceal.

And a magic voice and verse
Hath baptized thee with a curse;
And a spirit of the air
Hath begirt thee with a snare;
In the wind there is a voice
Shall forbid thee to rejoice;
And to thee shall night deny
All the quiet of her sky;
And the day shall have a sun,
Which shall make thee wish it done.

From thy false tears i did distil
An essence which hath strength to kill;
From thy own heart i then did wring
The black blood in its blackest spring;
From thy own smile i snatch´d the snake,
For there it coil´d as in a brake;
From thy own smile i snatch´d the snake,
For there it coil´d as in a brake;
From thy own lip i drew the the charm
Which gave all these their chiefest harm;
In proving every poison known,
I found the strongest was thine own.

By thy cold breast and serpent smile,
By thy unfathom´d gulfs of guile,
By that most seeming virtuos eye,
By thy shut soul´s hypocrisy;
By the perfection of thine art
Which pass´d for human thine own heart;
By thy delight in others´ pain,
And by thy brotherhood of cain,
I call upon thee! and compel
Thyself to be thy proper hell!

And on thy head i pour the vial
Which doth devote this trial;
Nor to slumber, nor to die,
Shall be in thy destiny;
Though thy death shall still seem near
To thy wish, but as a fear;
Lo! the spell now works around thee,
And the clankless chain hath bound thee;
O´er thy heart and brain together
Hath the word been pass´d - now wither!