 | Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems |  |
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THE POWER OF MUSIC.
1.
When Orpheus struck his burning lyre,Mute Nature caught creative fire,—
Rough stones obeyed the swelling sound,
In mystic measure moved around,
Till, polished by the harmony,
The finished structure, grand and free,
Rose like the star that heralds day,
To show Man's Mind its work and way!
2.
The sword may sever slavery's chain—The strong arm crush the tyrant's reign,
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Shatters and scathes the Temple high;—
But 't is the sweet-voiced Spring that calls
The ivy o'er the broken walls,
And gently swaying in the blasts,
The fragile plant the Pile outlasts.
3.
And thus the power of Music's breathRe-clothes the wastes of Time and Death.
The “blind old man” begins his strain,
And Greece is “living Greece” again!
The Songs that flowed on Zion's Hill
Are chanted in God's Temple still,
And to the eye of faith unfold
The glories of His House of old!
4.
Each Prophet-Bard of ancient daysStill breathes for us his lofty lays;
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If Music-hallowed, never die;—
And thus Religion, Law and Art,
Sow their choice seeds in every heart;
From age to age the Song flows on,
And blends fresh life with glories gone.
5.
A mystery this—but who can seeThe soft south wind that sways the tree,
And warms its vital flood to flow,
And wakes its folded buds to blow?—
Even thus the Power of Music, felt,
The soul is swayed, the heart will melt,
Till Love and Hope so bless the Hours,
Life's dial-plate is marked by flowers.
6.
And every Temple Art has rearedSome truth has taught, some error cleared;
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When Time is o'er and Heaven is won;
The Angel-Art to mortals taught—
The golden chord of human thought,
When pure, and tuned by Faith and Love,
Linked with the golden harps above!
| Three hours ; or, the vigil of love : and other poems | |