Days and Hours :: :: University of Virginia Library

A Shepherd-poet from a mountain land
Near a proud temple's open portal stood;
By lavish streams of odors he was fann'd,
And heard the hosannas of a multitude;

II

The soaring temple seem'd a holy world,
And in its beauty was almost divine;
He stood in wonder while the incense curl'd
Round the tall columns, and the golden shrine;

III

He heard the music rolling like a flood
With thunders based, and eddying echoes piled;
He saw the giant shapes of man and God
Glorious, in domed sanctuaries 'isled:

237

IV

He bow'd his head, and all that glory shook
His steadfast soul; but then he thought again
Of his green valley, and its rippling brook,
And the meek songs of poor and holy men.

V

Sweet words of peace and power, like blissful charms,
The Highpriest utter'd from his carven throne,
And clasp'd his hands, and raised his purple arms,
As though to teach humility by his own;

VI

He bow'd his head, and all that golden speech
Sank, like a lovely melody in his ears;
But then he thought how mountain hermits teach
Love with rough words, but prove it with their tears.

VII

He took his staff, he fled into the light,
Far from that perilous beauty manifold,
Lest his enchanted ears and dazzled sight
Should scorn the Presences they loved of old;

238

VIII

Beyond the City walls he fled in haste,
He left its dust, its tumult, and its sound,
And soon beheld long vales, and mountains vast,
Their kingly heads with storm and lightning crown'd;

IX

He saw the gulphy bosom of the woods
Surge in the wind; he saw the rivers wide
Glittering in silence, and the spanless floods
Of Ocean purpling on the other side;

X

He saw the plumed clouds go by in state,
And shapes of mighty stature bodied forth,
Of pleading Angel, or of armed Fate,
Throned in the air, and gazing on the earth;

XI

The soft wind stirr'd the grass, and thickets green,
Wild wood-notes stream'd around, rare odor-showers,
Glad springs, and silver rillets lisp'd unseen
Under the briary shades, and tangled flowers;

239

XII

He saw a shadow swallow up the day
Like coming Judgment, and again the sun
Flash forth, and turn to gold the glooming gray,
Like Mercy that repents ere ill be done:

XIII

And then he cried, ‘Oh! shall mine eyes forego
The glorious temple of the eternal skies
For all the frail magnificence below,
And words of love for cobwebs of the wise?

XIV

Oh! if their ears could hear, their eyes could see
All that in this great world sublimes the heart,
Spirit, what need of other shrine for thee,
Or mutter'd mysteries, or fantastic Art?

XV

When gilded shadows of the Fancy win
More lovers than the sacred face of Truth;
When o'er the ancient skeleton of Sin
Lie the warm folds of beauty and of youth;

240

XVI

When juggling pomps, and masked mockeries
Ape the bold steps by Freedom only trod,
When monstrous Idols hide from human eyes
The face of Nature, and the throne of God;

XVII

Woe to that land, how bright soe'er it shine!
Its air is thick with shapes that have no breath;
Tho' rich with milk and honey, corn and wine,
Its name is Darkness, and its King is Death.

XVIII

Better the icy wind, the sunshine dim,
Better the thousand storms that shake the free,
The torrent thundering to the Sabbath hymn,
Or the deep voice of the unchained Sea!

XIX

All-powerful Spirit, Universal King,
Let others seek thee under marble piles,
Where the lamps tremble, and the censers swing,
And waved anthems stream through arched aisles;

241

XX

In that high Temple, which Thyself didst frame,
And dost inhabit, I will look for Thee,
Whose roof is Night, whose lamps are worlds of flame,
Whose mighty bases are the Earth and Sea;

XXI

Where Life and Death, thy Ministers, attend,
And with dread voices chanting of all things
From the great Deep draw echoes without end,
Immeasurable Giants, clothed with wings.

XXII

Thine orisons, the worldwide voice that fills
The morning air, the clouds thy censers be,
Thine altars, the inextinguishable hills,
Thy music is the Thunder and the Sea.

XXIII

On silent plains, on solemn shores untrod,
Amid great Mountains where it daily swells,
That holy music, I will worship God,
And listen to the awful Oracles.