But the souls were only dazzled, and did not yet die.
Then evening winds and morning winds and noonday winds conspiring fell upon the meadow and wafted down the bright-blue and gold-green clouds, which had arisen out of flower-fragrance, and unfolded the ring of flowers on the horizon, and bore the sweet perfume to the hearts of the blest. The cloud of blossoms swallowed them into itself, the heart was baptized into the dark scents as into a feeling from the deepest depths of childhood, and, overwhelmed with the hot steam of flowers, would fain drop asunder therein.—Now the unknown voice drew nearer, and softly whispered, Die more sweetly of fragrance.
But the souls only grew giddy, and did not yet die. Far in the depths of Eternity out of the south rose and fell, as in a curve, a single tone,—a second rose in the east,—a third in the west,—at last from the distance the whole heaven sounded, and the tones streamed over the island, and seized upon the softened souls.... When the tones were upon the island, all beings wept for bliss and longing.... Then on a sudden the suns ran still faster, then the tones flew still higher, and, ascending spirally, lost themselves in a keen, endless height,—ah, then all the wounds of men opened again, and warmed softly with the trickling blood every breast, which died in its melancholy,—ah then, indeed, all came flying before us that we had loved here, all that we had lost here, every precious hour, every lamented pasture, every beloved being, every tear and every wish.—And when the highest tones were hushed and pierced again, and were still longer mute and pierced more deeply; then harmonica-bells trembled beneath human beings who stood upon them, so that the piercing hum agitated to pieces every trembler.—And a lofty form, around which a little dark cloud floated, came up in a white veil and said melodiously, Die more sweetly of tones.
Ah! they would have died and died gladly of the sadness of melody, if every heart had held the heart for which it languished on its breast; but every one still wept on lonesomely without his beloved.
At last the form threw off the white veil, and the Angel of the end stood before men. The little cloud that floated round him was Time,—so soon as he should grasp the little cloud, he would crush it, and time and men would be annihilated.
When the Angel of the end had unveiled himself, he smiled on men with indescribable affection, in order to dissolve their hearts with bliss and with smiles. And a soft light fell from his eyes upon all the shapes, and every one saw standing before him the soul he most loved,—and when they gazed upon each other with a dying look for love and sent a languid smile after the angel, he grasped at the little cloud which was near him,—but he could not reach it.
Suddenly each one saw once more beside him his own self,—the second I trembled transparently beside the first, and the two smiled consumingly on each other and exalted each other,—the heart which trembled in man hung once more, tremblingly, in the second self, and saw itself dying therein.—
O then was every one constrained to fly from himself to his beloved, and, seized with dread and love, to twine his arms round other beings who were dear to him.—And the angel of the end opened his arms wide, and clasped the whole human race together in one embrace.—Then the whole meadow glimmers, breathes fragrance, rings with music,—then the suns stop, but the island itself whirls around the suns,—the two sundered selves run into each other,—the loving souls fall on each other like snow-flakes,—the flakes become cloud,—the cloud melts into a dark tear.—
The great tear of bliss, made out of us all, swims more transparent and yet more transparent in Eternity.—
At last the Angel of the end said softly, They have died most sweetly of their beloved.—