« ՆախորդըՇարունակել »
The worst speak something good. If all want
He that gets patience, and the blessing which
Preachers conclude with, hath not lost his pains; He that, by being at church, escapes the ditch Which he might fall in by companions, gains ;
He that loves God's abode, and to combine
To the Rainbow.
TRIUMPHAL arch, that fill'st the sky
When storms prepare to part,
To teach me what thou art.
Still seem, as to my childhood's sight,
A midway station giv'n
Betwixt the earth and heav'n,
Can all that optics teach, unfold
Thy form to please me so,
Hid in thy radiant bow ?
When science from creation's face
Enchantment's veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place
To cold material laws!
And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams,
But words of the Most High,
Was woven in the sky.
When o'er the green undelug'd earth
Heav'n's cov’nant thou didst shine, How came the world's grey fathers forth
To watch thy sacred sign!
And when its yellow lustre smild
O’er mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child
To bless the bow of God.
Methinks thy jubilee to keep,
The first-made anthem rang On earth deliver'd from the deep,
And the first poet sang.
Nor ever shall the Muse's eye
Unraptur'd greet thy beam : Theme of primeval prophecy,
Be still the prophet's theme !
The earth to thee her incense yields,
The lark thy welcome sings,
The snowy mushroom springs.
How glorious is thy girdle cast
On mountain, tow'r, and town,
A thousand fathoms down!
As fresh in yon horizon dark,
As young thy beauties seem,
First sported in thy beam.
For, faithful to its sacred page,
Heav'n still rebuilds thy span,
That first spoke peace to man.
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Which when it bites and blows upon my body,
Sweet are the uses of adversity,
Vanity of Human Greatness.
Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness !
I feel my heart new open'd. O, how wretched
The Address of Adam and Eve to the Deity.
These are thy glorious works, Parent of good,
behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing. Ye in heav'n, On earth, join, all ye creatures, to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.