 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
ROSIGNOL SUEDOIS.
“Lord! what music hast thou prepared for the Saints in Heaven, if such music as this is to be heard by bad men upon the earth?”
—Izaak Walton.
Thy voice, oh! Vesper of the starry even!
Rained round my soul such golden songs last night,
It seemed some fiery star had burst in Heaven,
And scattered on the earth its crown of light;
Which so inspired me, that I felt like weeping,
But could not weep, my joy was so divine,—
Such harvests of rich bliss forever reaping,
I seemed in Heaven—for Heaven was surely thine.
Rained round my soul such golden songs last night,
It seemed some fiery star had burst in Heaven,
And scattered on the earth its crown of light;
Which so inspired me, that I felt like weeping,
But could not weep, my joy was so divine,—
Such harvests of rich bliss forever reaping,
I seemed in Heaven—for Heaven was surely thine.
Such sweet, melodious plaints were round me raining,
Filling my soul with undefiled delight—
Like Joy's sweet voice of too much bliss complaining—
It seemed that Heaven was opened to my sight;
And I could hear the blissful Angels singing,
And see the heavenly hosts around me fly;
And felt such instinct in my soul for flying,
That I, too, seemed an Angel, never born to die.
Filling my soul with undefiled delight—
Like Joy's sweet voice of too much bliss complaining—
It seemed that Heaven was opened to my sight;
And I could hear the blissful Angels singing,
And see the heavenly hosts around me fly;
And felt such instinct in my soul for flying,
That I, too, seemed an Angel, never born to die.
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As if the Lord the bended Heavens had cloven,
And down descending from his throne on high,
With fiery vestments out of lightnings woven,
Had clothed my soul for immortality.
For I could hear the gates of glory moving
On musical, golden hinges, far above,
And see God's smile the works of Christ approving,
Because Christ's works are moulded in His love.
And down descending from his throne on high,
With fiery vestments out of lightnings woven,
Had clothed my soul for immortality.
For I could hear the gates of glory moving
On musical, golden hinges, far above,
And see God's smile the works of Christ approving,
Because Christ's works are moulded in His love.
Oh! such another night of heavenly rapture,
Would shrive my soul of every earthly sin,
For thy sweet songs inspire me more than Scripture—
Thou Angel at Heaven's gates to let me in!
For they have purged me of all dross of sorrow,
And purified me for the life to be,
And fitted me to go to Heaven to-morrow,
And I would go—if I could only go with thee.
Would shrive my soul of every earthly sin,
For thy sweet songs inspire me more than Scripture—
Thou Angel at Heaven's gates to let me in!
For they have purged me of all dross of sorrow,
And purified me for the life to be,
And fitted me to go to Heaven to-morrow,
And I would go—if I could only go with thee.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |