How lofty art Thou in Thy wondrous might;
What joy to gaze upon these hosts, to one
Who feels himself so little, God so great,
Himself but dust, and the great God his own!
Oh, when I die, such rapture on me wait!
As regards our subject, Klopstock performed this function--he tuned the strings of feeling for Nature to a higher pitch, thereby excelling all his contemporaries. His poetry always tended to extravagance; but in thought, feeling, and language alike, he was ahead of his time.
The idyllic was now cultivated with increased fervour, especially by the Göttingen Brotherhood of Poets. The artificial and conventional began to wane, and Nature's own voice was heard again. The songs of Claudius were like a breath of spring.[[15]] His peasant songs have the genuine ring; they are hail-fellow-well-met with Nature. Hebel is the only modern poet like him.
EVENING SONG
The lovely day-star's run its course....
Come, mop my face, dear wife,