Octavian Smigelschi's vision of the Morning Star, with lyrics from the 13th stanza; 1904 print in the eponymous magazine[/caption]Come down, good Lucifer and kind ,
O lord of my aspire,
And flood my chamber and my mind
With your sweetest fire !"
And Lucifer beams still more bright
To hear her word's emotion ;
Then like a comet in its flight
Dives down into the ocean.
And where his bolt is lost to view
The sea in whirlpool surges,
Till out of the unfathomed blue
A handsome youth emerges,
Who, leaping off the fretful wave,
Lightly through her casement passes ;
And in his hand he holds a stave
Crowned with a wreath of grasses.
A prince indeed of royal stock,
With heavy hanging golden hair ;
A purple winding-sheet his smock,
Hung round his shoulders bare.
A starry glow shines from his eyes,
His cheeks are deathly white ;
A lifeless thing in living guise,
A youth born of the night.
"Down from the spheres do I come
Though dreadful the commotion,
My father is the vaulted dome,
My mother is the ocean.
For I have left my realm to keep
Obedience to your command ;
Born of the zenith and the deep
Before you here I stand.
O come, fair child of royal birth,
Cast this your world aside,
For Lucifer has flown to earth
To claim you as his bride.
Read the full poem: here
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The Morning Star as a sword-bearing youth, 1904 lithograph by Lascăr Vorel[/caption]
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