The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield In two volumes |
 |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
|
ANTISTROPHE. |
| 3. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
| 6. |
 | The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield |  |
ANTISTROPHE.
God of the Mornlight! when the orient glows
With thy triumphant smile, and ether feels
The Hours and Seasons, 'mid their clouds of rose,
Swept o'er its bosom on the living wheels
Of thy proud car,
When, through the abysses of the heaven, each star
Before the splendour of thy spirit fades
Like insect glimmerings in the noontide glades!
Hail, radiant Phœbus! lord
Of love and life, of wisdom, music, mirth,
At whose resistless word
Being and bliss dance o'er the blossomed earth!
O Pythian Victor, hear!
Pæonian Healer of our ills, behold!
Breather of Oracles! thy sons draw near
To feel the music of thy lyre unfold,
As shadows change before the morn to gold,
The sealed-up volume of our darkened minds.
Breathe on Favonian winds,
And from the effluence of immortal light
Strew our dim thoughts with rays,
Till, sorrowing o'er this failing praise,
We know, with burning hearts, to sing thy deeds aright!
God of the harp and bow,
Whose thoughts are sunbeam arrows, hear!
Giver of flowers! dissolver of the snow!
Accept our gifts and let thy sons draw near!
Chorus.
With thy triumphant smile, and ether feels
The Hours and Seasons, 'mid their clouds of rose,
Swept o'er its bosom on the living wheels
Of thy proud car,
When, through the abysses of the heaven, each star
Before the splendour of thy spirit fades
Like insect glimmerings in the noontide glades!
Hail, radiant Phœbus! lord
Of love and life, of wisdom, music, mirth,
At whose resistless word
94
O Pythian Victor, hear!
Pæonian Healer of our ills, behold!
Breather of Oracles! thy sons draw near
To feel the music of thy lyre unfold,
As shadows change before the morn to gold,
The sealed-up volume of our darkened minds.
Breathe on Favonian winds,
And from the effluence of immortal light
Strew our dim thoughts with rays,
Till, sorrowing o'er this failing praise,
We know, with burning hearts, to sing thy deeds aright!
God of the harp and bow,
Whose thoughts are sunbeam arrows, hear!
Giver of flowers! dissolver of the snow!
Accept our gifts and let thy sons draw near!
—Io Pæan! from thy sphere,
King of prophets, hear, oh hear!
From hallowed fount and hoary hill,
And haunt of song and sunlight near,
With inspirations come and every bosom fill.
| The poems and prose writings of Sumner Lincoln Fairfield | |