AN HYMN TO HARMONY.
ΦΩΝΑΝΤΑ ΣΥΝΕΤΟΙΣΙ ------
Pindar, Olymp. II.
Daughter of Heaven, whose magic Call,
From Nothing, bade this wonderous All
In beauteous Order rise;
Thou, who, at Nature's earliest Birth,
Saw'st vernal Fragrance cloathe the Earth,
And brighten all the Skies!
Thee I invoke, whose sacred Sway
Hath bound the Earth, the Air, and Sea,
In one eternal Chain:
Come then, O come, celestial Maid;
Be present to thy Votary's Aid;
And harmonize the Strain!
Even as the Sun incessant pours
On Herbs, and Trees, and Fruits, and Flowers,
His vivifying Ray;
So may thy hallow'd Fire impart
Fresh Joy, and Gladness to the Heart,
Along the Realms of Day.
When Folly, with her Hydra-hand,
Extends her Empire o'er the Land,
And stalks, with Giant-Stride;
O prop fair Virtue's sinking Cause;
Defend our Rights; protect our Laws;
And stem Corruption's Tide!
The starry Host shall fade away;
Eternal Nature shall decay;
Whilst thy prolific Beam
Rolls on, and shall for ever roll,
From Day to Day, from Pole to Pole,
An unexhausted Stream.
Ere Space was Space, or Time was Time,
Thy Power, thy Energy sublime,
With dazzling Lustre shone;
And shall, when Time, and Space are past,
In undiminish'd Glory last,
Immortal, and alone.
For, when, at Fate's resistless Name,
The Spark, that warms thy vital Frame,
Ascends its Kindred Skies;
Then, like the Phœnix from the Fire,
An Offspring, beauteous as its Sire,
Shall from thy Ashes rise.
Come, then, and let thy Daughter fair,
Divine Benevolence, be near;
And Fortitude, thy Friend;
Let firm Integrity be nigh;
And Freedom, with terrific Eye,
Thy solemn Steps attend:
That Freedom, which, in Days of Yore,
Display'd the Impotence of Power,
And Vanity of Pride;
Warm'd by whose Flame, great Tully taught;
And Cato bled; and Cæsar fought;
And Alexander dy'd:
That Cause, whose animating Fire
Our great Fore-fathers did inspire
To vindicate their Right—
O let us now transmit it down,
From Age to Age, from Sire to Son,
With everlasting Light!
And, lo! through all the peopl'd Air,
Unbodied Multitudes prepare
To join the festive Throng:
All Nature celebrates thy Praise;
And Dryads, Fauns, and Satyrs raise
The Hymenæal Song.
So, when thy Orpheus strikes the Strings,
Then Music waves her purple Wings;
And undulates around;
The Groves, with all their Echoes mourn;
And sympathetic Rocks return
The inexpressive Sound.