Unknown

First Section
Cry, children, cry to all the world,
Let even distant borders know it,
How your protection hath been shattered,
How this you sovereign father falls.

O land, confounded land!
Where hath an equal pain
To thy distress been known?
The sun which for thee scarcely stood at midday
Concealeth all its light
Beneath a deathly shadow now.
Ah, Leopold!
Who God was true and to his land was good,
Who never, we had hoped, was destined to expire
Too soon leaves us bereft.
O pain! O sorrow!
O land, confounded land!

Pain and woe
Wrack our spirits thousandfold.
And our eyes of true affection
Are now, like a merry brook
Midst a sudden tempest, swollen.

As, when the lightning's cruel rage
The oaks doth strike and all the plumage
Of forests here and thither
With terror and with fright doth strew,
So art thou too, confounded Cöthen; Thou,
A subject ever true,
Feel'st all too well how he was stricken.
Each one regards his neighbor's face;
His sadness, though, doth keep his lips closed fast,
Which want so much to mourn and are not able.

Faint with grief, thou faithful land,
If thy sighing-laden torment
And thy tears cannot be counted,
O remember, to this pallor
Is no sorrow to be likened.

Ah yes!
Thy parting toucheth us,
Most gracious Leopold:
All us who thee with grief are mourning
Because our sun's bright light doth fade,
Which o'er our land with kind
And glad appearance had arisen.
O dreadful loss! For us so early ris'n,
He hath our heart with anxious worry
And also our bowed heads with wreaths of black surrounded.

Return now, worthy princely soul,
Inspire afresh the torpid members,
Endowing them with life all over,
Eternal and immortal called.
While youth doth boast and old men glory
That this our land in their own time
So many charms and gracious deeds
In this our Prince hath demonstrated.

Second Section

We have here now a God who doth help, and have a Lord, Lord, who from death redeemeth.

Confounded vision, full of terror,
Is then so soon the grave our flesh to cover, For death is here,
The hour tolls, the end is nigh.
My God, how bitter it doth seem to me,
Ah, why dost thou so haste for me?

Uphold me,
God, in the half of all my days here,
Care for me;
On my spirit falls the yoke
Painfully.

Indeed the feeble mortal can but quake
When to him nature's way of death
The frigid, open tomb revealeth.
But who is e'er, like this our Prince's spirit, While living in the world
More unto heav'n aspiring
Than holding fast to vanity,
Shall flee with joy from out this earthly cavern.

With gladness,
With gladness be the world abandoned,
For death to me great comfort seems.
I will hold my God close to me,
For he helps and bides with me
When my soul and limbs are parting.

So blest thou art,
Thou jewel of a prince,
Thou couldst thee find no softer lodging;
God helps and can from death redeem thee.

We have here now a God who doth help, and have a Lord, Lord, who from death redeemeth.

Third Section

Let, Leopold, thee not be buried,
It is thy land which to thee calls;
Thou shalt an ever peaceful tomb
In each and all our hearts receive thee.

How could it ever be
That one could live and yet forget thee?
Ah no!
We, we know now all too commonly
What faithful humble servants owe,
And our intent on that alone is set
Still yet thine ashes to pay honor.
Thou art in bliss,
Yet this can but increase our sorrow,
When how so early death thee stole
In silent rev'rence inwardly we ponder.

How could it ever be
That one could live and yet forget thee?
Ah no!
We have now all too commonly
Thy fatherly authority,
Which more with love than stricture hath been fired,
Experienced and with us measured.
For only time
Will to the others tell the story,
And thus will thee eternity
In unextinguished fame establish.

Even after tears in thousands
These our eyes are free of weeping,
Doth our heart still think on thee.
All thy charm
Is indeed by death now stolen,
But our debt
Shall abide eternally,
That we thee must honor ever.

All thy charm,
Which we know not how to honor,
Patience, too,
Were as well ours evermore,
If thou only were not mortal.

And, Lord, this is the precious spice
With which we shall thy coffin honor:
As ev'ry subject true
Now rush to gather round thee.
In harmony of force and conflict,
Each longing to be at the front:
As though they were their fealty
To thee e'en in thy death to promise.

Mortals: Go, Leopold, to thy repose,
Chosen: And slumber for a little while.
Mortals: Now thou liv'st
Midst that fairest heav'nly rest,
Though soon thy weary flesh be buried,
Chosen: Thy soul shall find in heav'n refreshment
And royally in glory dwell.

Mortals: Our repose,
Chosen: Which was no one but thyself,
Will now straightway with thee be buried.
Mortals: Thy soul shall find in heav'n refreshment
And royally in glory dwell.

Fourth Section

Rest ye now in your repose,
O ye pallid princely members;
For transformed in time will be
All our pain
To contented pleasure once more,
Stemming all our tears as well.

And thou, confounded princely house,
Recover now thyself as well
From thine ordeal.
As God's own hand e'er this
So often on thee grave
And heavy burdens hath imposéd,
So will thee, too, now in the time to come
A ever constant joyfulness
Give pleasure and attendance.
The night is done,
The day breaks forth with joy for thee.
Now for thee, as in the merry springtime,
Will shine the warm and pleasant sunshine,
Which neither darkness drear nor gloom can e'er disturb.

Hold in check thine anxious fretting,
Save thyself for better times,
Which thy sorrow will make humble
And to joy a hand will wave:
Travail at its greatest peak
Will that sooner come to rest.

Now do we part,
O blessed Leopold, from thee.
But thou shalt not our memory leave.
We now back to our shelters go
And gather on the earth, so anxious,
More ashes of corruption here,
And hope that, when we too the debt
To nature finally have rendered,
As blissful and as soft as to our Leopold
To us as well our end might be.

Our eyes now look unto thy body,
Our mouth into the tomb doth call:
Sleep securely, rest content
Find new life in heaven's kingdom!
Take a final fond good night
From thy people who adore thee,
Who in thy behalf are saddened,
Who thy heart most dear did hold,
Where thy fame hath immortal rank attained.