For your judgements are great, and hard to interpret;
—
For when lawless men had supposed that they held a holy nation in their power,
—
For while they thought that they were unseen in their secret sins,
—
For neither did the dark recesses that held them guard them from fears,
—
And no power of fire prevailed to give light,
—
but only the glimmering of a self-kindled fire appeared to them, full of fear.
—
The mockeries of their magic arts were powerless, now,
—
For those who promised to drive away terrors and disorders from a sick soul,
—
For even if no troubling thing frighted them,
—
they perished trembling in fear,
—
For wickedness, condemned by a witness within, is a coward thing,
—
For fear is nothing else but a surrender of the help which reason offers;
—
and from within, the expectation of being less
—
But they, all through the night which was powerless indeed,
—
now were haunted by monstrous apparitions,
—
So then whoever it might be, sinking down in his place,
—
for whether he was a farmer, or a shepherd,
—
Whether there was a whistling wind,
—
or a harsh crashing of rocks hurled down,
—
For the whole world was illuminated with clear light,
—
while over them alone was spread a heavy night,
—