The Poetical Works of Robert Montgomery :: :: University of Virginia Library

The Sun is seated on his ocean-throne,
Attended by a court of clouds. Around
And midway, rosy phantoms form and swell,
Advance, and, like battalions in array,
Mingle their pomp, and make a shining plain
Of crimson on the skies.

Beneath, the waves
In gleaming motion lie, like ruffled scales
Of liquid steel: and, lo! awaking now
With the white dew of slumber on her breast,
The Earth, all fragrant, fresh in living green,
And beautiful, as if this moment sprung
From out her Maker's hand. Athwart the trees
A verdant lustre shines; where matin-beads
With gems of light have jewell'd all the boughs;
While here and there, some gently-vocal stream
Touch'd by a sun-ray, laughs with conscious light.

The Flowers are waking, too, and ope their eyes
To greet the prying sun, while meads and dales
With hoary incense steam: and list! there floats
A buzz of life: myriads of insects now
Creep from their green-wood caves and mossy homes,
And wind their way to glitter in the sun;
While from yon wooded green the sheep-bells send
Their tinkling echoes down the forest-dale.

And is creation's heir, in slumberous calm
Unmindful of the morn? Ah, no: its beams
On the lone cotter's straw-roof'd hut hath smiled,
And call'd him forth. And see! the lattice oped,
Far o'er the landscape's freshen'd view His eye
Expatiates; while the choral breezes wake
Like matins from the harp of Air produced:
And then deep sentiments, by purity evoked,
Thrill the true heart; instructively it owns
The gloriousness of God; while faith ascends
On wings of prayer and praise the Mercy-seat,
And Him adores, Whom day and night reveal.