In no fix'd place the happy souls reside. In groves we live, and lie on mossy beds, By crystal streams, that murmur thro' the meads: But pass yon easy hill, and thence descend; The path conducts you to your journey's end.” This said, he led them up the mountain's brow, And shews them all the shining fields below. They wind the hill, and thro' the blissful meadows go.
— Virgil, Aeneid (6.641
| Freude, schoener Goetterfunken, Tochter aus Elysium, Wir betreten feuertrunken, Himmlische dein Heiligtum. Deine Zauber binden wieder, Was die Mode streng geteilt; Alle Menschen werden Brueder, Wo dein sanfter Fluegel weilt. | Joy, o wondrous spark divine, Daughter of Elysium, Drunk with fire now we enter, Heavenly one, your holy shrine. Your magic powers join again What fashion strictly did divide; Brotherhood unites all men Where your gentle wing's spread wide. |
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