University of Virginia Library

Again thy sweetly warbled strain,
Thou leader of the choral train;
Again thy sweeping harp I hear,
That long has charmed my ravished ear.

New vigour to my soul thy words impart,
With softer pleasures touch thy wounded heart:
The moral lore that flows along thy line,
Might well befit a Pliny to rehearse;
The bold descriptive beauties of thy Verse,
Would bright on Titian's glowing canvas shine.

When closed the blazing eye of day,
And on my downy couch I lay,
Deep musing on thy moral lore;
The God of Sleep around me threw
His mantle dipt in slumbrous dew;
And thus arose my fervent pray'r—

O! thou from whom creation sprung!
O! send from thy bright realms above,
Some saint to cheer me with thy love,
And bid me raise the rapturous song—
For I have heard thy spirits who on high
Possess the plains of yon cerulean sky;
Have oft, in pity to the mortal race,
Descending closed them in their pure embrace;
And whispering soothing music to their breast,
Charm'd all the tempests of the soul to rest—
Scarce had the words escaped my moving tongue,
Yet on my lips the trembling accents hung;
When lo! a form descending from on high,
On silver plumes thro' yonder orient sky:
Wide flows in circling locks her golden hair,
And plays with every eddying of the air.
Her robes of filmy texture white as snow,
Around her form in graceful foldings flow.
Her bright blue eyes beam forth a gentle light,
And fix and charm at once the gazer's sight.
When near she moved I saw bewitching grace,
And heavenly beauty lighten up her face.
Now by my side upon the earth she stood,
Her quickened glance warm'd all my chilly blood.
High waving in the air a sky-blue wand,
She bade me follow to yon lofty land;
The path she led, with joyous heart I flew,
'Till near the high and verdant hill I drew;
Then turning round she took my trembling hand,
And waved again her bright cerulean wand:
Soft as the sound of some angelic lute,
Sweet as the breath of Orpheus' mellow flute.
Her words in rapt'rous warblings pour'd along,
And thrill'd my trembling soul with heavenly song.
Behold! she said, that lovely country round,
With nature's richest gifts and beauty crown'd;
There purest joy flows thro the circling year,
The happy people know no pain, nor fear;
Their queen I am, from realms of light I came,
Fair virtue's offspring, blue-eyed Hope my name.”
She ceased; then rose before my ravish'd sight,
Enchanting scenes in nature's beauty bright;
Here spreads a wide and ever verdant plain,
And waves the yellow life-supporting grain:
There grandly rise the proud aspiring hills,
Between whose rocky chinks slide down the rills.
Here in majestic beauty towering high,
Shoot verdant groves toward the cloudless sky;
The feathered warblers hop from spray to spray,
And hold their tuneful strife till closing day;
Then pours the plaintive Nightingale her notes,
And all night long her melting music floats—
Along the walks of those e'er blooming bowers,
Forever spring new crops of fragrant flowers.
The pristine colors of the sun are seen
With countless changes waving o'er the green—
Rich sculptur'd figures form'd of blazing gold,
Attract the eye, and firm the senses hold—
Here Dove-like Innocence, engaged in play,
With frolic lambs prolongs the happy day;
There Charity throws forth her copious store,
Till the glad suppliants cease to ask for more:
Here, with celestial glory in her eye,
Mild Faith with firmness gazes on the sky,
And Adoration pours her song of praise,
While tears of rapture wander down her face.
There o'er white curling lakes the nodding trees,
Wave slowly to the gentle passing breeze;
And wildly-grand around deep rocky caves
Return the Echo of the dashing waves.
Here chrystal mountains shooting to the sky,
With the bright sun in splendor seem to vie;
Where rise the rugged rocks an awful height!
The sheeting torrent holds my wandering sight:
From steep to steep down dash with thundering roar
The mad'ning waves, and foam along the shore.
“Lo said the maid there bursting from the ground,
A bubbling fountain casts its waters round;
And see behind, where opens yonder bower,
The virtuous souls enjoy the rapturous hour:
There many a harp, and many a breathing flute
Is heard; responding sounds the silver lute;
Whilst ravish'd with the melody of sound
The vocal chorus pour their songs around.
Thus all the blest their happy days employ,
And each contributes to the other's joy;
Their grateful incense rises up to heaven,
And for their praise a double joy is given:
Know thou, she said, whoe'er pursues the path
That leads to Virtue and unwavering Faith,
Shall hail me Queen! and where they dwell shall rise
A scene like this, enchanting to their eyes;
The spheres shall warble music in their ear,
And all creation harmony appear.”
Now ceased her voice, she clap'd her silver wings,
And rising to the sky thro Ether sings.