less bitterly her husband’s violent interference.  But returning to the poem “Hyperion,” for as such we may regard it, we find in it the most complete expression of the attitude which the poet, in his Weltschmerz, assumed toward nature.  Nature is his constant companion, mother, comforter in sorrow, in his brighter moments his deity.  This nature-worship, which speedily develops into a more or less consistent pantheism, Hoelderlin expresses in Hyperion’s second letter, in the following creed:  “Eines zu sein mit allem, was lebt, in seliger Selbstvergessenheit wiederzukehren ins All der Natur, das ist der Gipfel der Gedanken und Freuden, das ist die heilige Bergeshoehe, der Ort der ewigen Ruhe."[69] And so nature is to Hoelderlin always intensely real and personal.  The sea is youthful, full of exuberant joy; the mountain-tops are hopeful and serene; with shouts of joy the stream hurls itself like a giant down into the forests.  Here and there his personification of nature becomes even more striking:  “O das Morgenlicht und ich, wir gingen uns entgegen, wie versoehnte Freunde."[70] Still more intense is this feeling of personal intimacy, when he exclaims:  “O selige Natur! ich weiss nicht, wie mir geschiehet, wenn ich mein Auge erhebe von deiner Schoene, aber alle Lust des Himmels ist in den Thraenen, die ich weine vor dir, der Geliebte vor der Geliebten."[71] It is important for purposes of comparison, to note that notwithstanding his intense Weltschmerz, in his treatment of nature Hoelderlin does not select only its gloomy or terrible aspects.  Light and shade alternate in his descriptions, and only here and there is the background entirely unrelieved.  The thunderstorm is to him a dispenser of divine energies among forest and field, even the seasons of decline and decay are not left without sunshine:  “auf der stummen entblaetterten Landschaft, wo der Himmel schoener als je, mit Wolken und Sonnenschein um die herbstlich schlafenden Baeume spielte."[72] One passage in “Hyperion” bears so striking a resemblance, however, to Lenau’s characteristic nature-pictures, that it shall be given in full—­although even here, when the gloom of his sorrow and disappointment was steadily deepening, he does not fail to derive comfort from the warm sunshine, a thought for which we should probably look in vain, had Lenau painted the picture:  “Ich sass mit Alabanda auf einem Huegel der Gegend, in lieblich waermender Sonn’, und um uns spielte der Wind mit abgefallenem Laube.  Das Land war stumm; nur hie und da ertoente im Wald ein stuerzender Baum, vom Landmann gefaellt, und neben uns murmelte der vergaengliche Regenbach hinab ins ruhige Meer."[73]