University of Virginia Library

This is a Prospect that must brightly preach
The purest truths the ennobled Soul can reach—
That Thought by Thought its upward march must lead
Unto a free and soaring height indeed!
It speaks with tongues than trumpet-tongues more clear,
Though to that Soul appealing—not to the ear—
And pours instruction through its depths the while
How sweetly, when a Sunbeam and a Smile
Are its chief bright auxiliaries—and bear
These lovely lessons deep, and pure, and rare,
To the rapt Mind's recesses, where they shine
Like glittering torches in some shadowy Mine,
Thus fair illumined with its treasures all,
And sparkling like some proud Enchanter's Hall—
That Sunbeam and that Smile so warmly smite
The wakened sense with kindlings of delight!
And what are those deep lessons?—what may be
Those lofty truths, which Sky, and Land, and Sea,
Join in unveiling to the Spirit now—
To which it doth with trusting reverence bow?
Those truths are such as lift the inner weight
From off the Soul—and light and elevate—
And link it unto dreams of loftier birth
Than any that belong to this chill Earth!
For oh! can we with watchful ardour gaze
On this enchanted and enchanting maze
(A maze of Beauties and of wonders rare,
But not without a plan profound and fair—
So that the different features of the Scene
One Unity harmonious and serene
With all their various hues of change compose,
And smoothly fair the View consistent shows—
So that these scattered splendours mingling bright
Form fixed Configurations of Delight!—)
Can we indeed with careful gaze look down
On this bright Prospect—sweetly made our own—
Nor feel—through all our thrilled Existence feel
The more than Knowledge which such scenes reveal,
And rapturously acknowledge—doubting not
The hallowed Admonitions of the Spot,
And say unto ourselves with prayer-stilled voice,
“Rejoice, my Soul!—awake thee to rejoice!”
Yea! such proud Scenes in tones o'erpow'ring speak
(To those that love Instruction's hints—and seek)
With all their triumphs of surpassing show,
Their fine free harmonies—above—below—
Of dread Omnipotence on Nature's Throne—
Yet not of dread Omnipotence Alone!—
Of perfect Wisdom—that can have no bound
Of Judgements strong, infallible, profound—
Of Mercy, and of Goodness, and of Love—
Such as alone can have their source Above—
Since here they have no likeness—here no match
On this dark Earth, where Sinners weep and watch!—
Oh! Thou—whose Heavenly and Omnific hand
Formed these fine Scenes, and fashioned this fair Land,
Arched these rich Skies, and armed them with all hues,
Their warm vermilions, and celestial blues,
And made them shine in beauty through all hours
With varying Glory of Still-conquering Powers—
And reared these lovely Hills in graceful pride
Above the azured chrystal of the Tide—
And spread these gilded and transparent Seas,
And wrought yet myriad wonders fair as these.
Oh! Thou—from whom all gifts of Good arise,
'Tis Thou that art Beneficent as Wise—
Almighty as Beneficent—and Just
As thou'rt Almighty—worthiest of all trust,
Deserving of all homage and all zeal,
Each throb of Gratitude the heart can feel—
Each strain of Adoration it can raise—
Each glow of Piety—each gush of Praise—
Thy mighty Works are telling still of Thee,
And the great Heavens are lightening up the Sea—
Ten thousand blazing truths have they impressed
On the broad tablet of its beamy breast,
And from its depths, its billows, and its springs,
That Sea responds with countless glorious things,
The Hills unto the Plains unceasing cry,
And the glad Plains with punctual zeal reply.
The breezes whisper to the listening flowers—
The floating dews give warning to the bowers—
Till all the encircling and enkindled Space
Which thought can travel, or the eye embrace,
Is as a radiant temple without bound—
And thy great Works thy Worshippers are found,
A Congregation of the Faithful met
To pour the praise they never shall forget,
A Congregation without spot or stain,
To laud the Eternal King and bless His reign!
No schisms—no doubts—no wandering flights are there—
The Atmosphere is all one breathless prayer—
Their hallowed Energies are still unspent,
And still to one deep service they are bent!—
And shall a wanderer, shall a stranger come,
And pass the doors—and press beneath the Dome—
Cold, dumb, and uninspired—where all proclaim
The living thunders of the Eternal Name—
Move listlessly along the Holy Ground,
Nor heed the sweetly solemn rites around,
Amongst those Worshippers the only thing
Untouched—unwakened—and unworshipping?
And must that Wanderer and that Stranger be—
Of All thy Works—the one most blessed by Thee—
The one the most indebted to thy Grace—
Even Man, most bound to seek his Maker's face,
Crown'd with thy Love, instructed by thy Word,
And made thy proud Creation's mighty Lord.

Bright glows the Sun—the Sun of ruddy Morn,
These scenes of boundless Beauty to adorn—
The waves of other Seas may toss and hiss,
But only sing and smile the waves of this!—
The clouds of other Skies dark signs unfold,
But these glow, steeped in purple and in gold—
The weeds of other Lands, uncouth and wild,
May by the path in tangled knots lie piled,
But even the very weeds of this are bright,
And chain the ravished Sense, and charm the Sight—
The gales of other Airs may roughly blow,
And shake the troubled foliage to and fro,
But these still softly 'midst the flushed boughs wind,
And shed abroad the scents which there they find,
But these still gently 'mid the flower-beds wake,
And but the incense from their sweet leaves shake.
The hours of other climes may harshly change,
But these still bring delights as sweet as strange.
Morn, Noon, and Even, and the star-gemm'd Night,
Vie with each other in their glorious flight!
And now while brightly glows the Morning ray,
How shines and smiles the Sun-enamoured Bay,
Like an embodied flood of golden Day!
Aye! here no roughened breakers foam on high,
And hurl back threatenings at the threatening Sky;
No angry surges that resounding sweep,
Make one wide scene of terror of the Deep,
The breakers, and the surges, and the foam,
Which cloud tumultuous tides with wrath and gloom,
These Waters of Enchantment may not know,
So smooth and shining in their equal flow,
The maddening Whirlwind and the darkening Storm,
Which other Seas so hideously deform,
Surely shall still be charmed away from these—
Thus gently courted by the amorous breeze,
Thus brightly painted by the admiring Sun,
From earliest dawn, till his proud course is done.
Yea! other Seas may frown and chafe—but this
'Tis buried in too deep and full a bliss!
Too bright the Heavens it hath to mirror back,
Too sweet the airs that its clear surface track,
Too warmly sheltering are the Hills that stand
Round these glad shores—a watchful guardian band,
Those Hills—not haughty as their brethren are,
That pile their snows against the whitened star,
But of a milder rise of gradual slope
Than those high soaring towards Heaven's radiant cope—
And of a gentler and less proud ascent,
More meekly reared beneath the Firmament,
As though at first ambitiously they rose
To leave their fair Earth in its green repose,
And then repented them and stopped midway—
Won by the beauties round in proud display—
And sunk half back upon their Mother's lap,
Which flowery folds and verdurous shades enwrap!

Oh! what a Paradise of Wonders asks
The Eye and Soul!—Oh! how the Spirit basks
In rapturous Admiration 'mid this wealth
Of Loveliness, that seems to infuse new health,
New vigour now throughout Existence' whole,
And make each pulse a sense, each sense a Soul!
Most lofty and most pure, and most unblaimed,
The Admiration thus by Nature claimed
In all her Glory—and not claimed Alone,
For her sole Self—but for a Mightier One!
Heavens of outshining Splendour—Seas of Light—
Islands of Beauty—Mountains of fair height—
Vineyards of rich luxuriance—Airs of balm—
Shores of ambrosial peace and dreamy calm—
And fields of teeming culture!—ye conspire
To enchant—to o'erpower—to teach us how to admire!
Well may ye lead the quick aspiring Mind,
Fresh as the day-spring—free as the arrowy Wind—
From strength to strength—from tow'ring thought to thought,
Till to the Heights of Contemplation brought!—
Well may ye kindle every glorious dream,
And teach the Soul victorious truths Supreme
Until—by ye first challenged and first charmed,
First touched and thrilled, first wakened and first warmed,
At length 'tis raised by Rapture and by Love,
Ev'n your bright Excellencies far above,
And darts away upon its franchised wings,
High, high o'er temporal and terrestrial things,
And leaves e'en your transcendant forms behind,
While the unwearied and uplifted mind
Soars far o'er Earth its miseries and its jars,
To mix with Heaven's crown'd Seraphs and its Stars,
And back at last in rapturous mood returns,
(While fervently with unquenched zeal it burns!)
To lend a thousand thousand glories more,
To ye—ye scenes—that wakened it to adore!