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| WHEN first ancient time, from Jubal’s tongue | |
| The tuneful anthem filled the morning air, | |
| To sacred hymnings and elysian song | |
| His music-breathing shell the minstrel woke. | |
| Devotion breathed aloud from every chord: | 5 |
| The voice of praise was heard in every tone, | |
| And prayer and thanks to Him, the Eternal One, | |
| To Him, that with bright inspiration touched | |
| The high and gifted lyre of heavenly song, | |
| And warmed the soul with new vitality. | 10 |
| A stirring energy through Nature breathed: | |
| The voice of adoration from her broke, | |
| Swelling aloud in every breeze, and heard | |
| Long in the sullen waterfall, what time | |
| Soft Spring or hoary Autumn threw on earth | 15 |
| Its bloom or blighting; when the summer smiled; | |
| Or Winter o’er the year’s sepulchre mourned. | |
| The Deity was there; a nameless spirit | |
| Moved in the breasts of men to do him homage; | |
| And when the morning smiled, or evening pale | 20 |
| Hung weeping o’er the melancholy urn, | |
| They came beneath the broad, o’erarching trees, | |
| And in their tremulous shadow worshipped oft, | |
| Where pale the vine clung round their simple altars, | |
| And gray moss mantling hung. Above was heard | 25 |
| The melody of winds, breathed out as the green trees | |
| Bowed to their quivering touch in living beauty; | |
| And birds sang forth their cheerful hymns. Below, | |
| The bright and widely wandering rivulet | |
| Struggled and gushed amongst the tangled roots | 30 |
| That choked its reedy fountain, and dark rocks | |
| Worn smooth by the constant current. Even there | |
| The listless wave, that stole with mellow voice | |
| Where reeds grew rank on the rushy-fringed brink, | |
| And the green sedge bent to the wandering wind, | 35 |
| Sang with a cheerful song of sweet tranquillity. | |
| Men felt the heavenly influence; and it stole | |
| Like balm into their hearts, till all was peace: | |
| And even the air they breathed, the light they saw, | |
| Became religion; for the ethereal spirit | 40 |
| That to soft music wakes the chords of feeling, | |
| And mellows everything to beauty, moved | |
| With cheering energy within their breasts | |
| And made all holy there, for all was love. | |
| The morning stars, that sweetly sang together; | 45 |
| The moon, that hung at night in the mid-sky; | |
| Dayspring and eventide; and all the fair | |
| And beautiful forms of nature, had a voice | |
| Of eloquent worship. Ocean, with its tides | |
| Swelling and deep, where low the infant storm | 50 |
| Hung on his dun, dark cloud, and heavily beat | |
| The pulses of the sea, sent forth a voice | |
| Of awful adoration to the spirit | |
| That, wrapt in darkness, moved upon its face. | |
| And when the bow of evening arched the east, | 55 |
| Or, in the moonlight pale, the curling wave | |
| Kissed with a sweet embrace the sea-worn beach, | |
| And soft the song of winds came o’er the waters, | |
| The mingled melody of wind and wave | |
| Touched like a heavenly anthem on the ear; | 60 |
| For it arose a tuneful hymn of worship. | |
| And have our hearts grown cold? Are there on earth | |
| No pure reflections caught from heavenly light? | |
| Have our mute lips no hymn, our souls no song? | |
| Let him that in the summer-day of youth | 65 |
| Keeps pure the holy fount of youthful feeling, | |
| And him that in the nightfall of his years | |
| Lies down in his last sleep, and shuts in peace | |
| His dim, pale eyes on life’s short wayfaring, | |
| Praise Him that rules the destiny of man. | 70 |
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