The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. Containing, besides his Sermons, and Essays on miscellaneous subjects, several additional pieces, Selected from his Manuscripts by the Rev. Dr. Jennings, and the Rev. Dr. Doddridge, in 1753: to which are prefixed, memoirs of the life of the author, compiled by the Rev. George Burder. In six volumes |
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III.—TO DORIO. THE FIRST LYRIC HOUR. |
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 | The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. |  |
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III.—TO DORIO. THE FIRST LYRIC HOUR.
'Twas an unclouded sky: The day-star sat
On highest noon: No breezes fann'd the grove,
Nor the musicians of the air pursu'd
Their artless warblings; while the sultry day
Lay all diffus'd and slumb'ring on the bosom
Of the white lily, the perfum'd jonquil,
And lovely blushing rose. Then first my harp,
Labouring with childish innocence and joy,
Brake silence, and awoke the smiling hour
With infant notes, saluting the fair skies,
(Heaven's highest work) the fair enamell'd meads,
And tall green shades along the winding banks
Of Avon gently flowing. Thence my days
Commenc'd harmonious; there began my skill
To vanquish care by the sweet-sounding string.
On highest noon: No breezes fann'd the grove,
Nor the musicians of the air pursu'd
Their artless warblings; while the sultry day
Lay all diffus'd and slumb'ring on the bosom
Of the white lily, the perfum'd jonquil,
And lovely blushing rose. Then first my harp,
Labouring with childish innocence and joy,
Brake silence, and awoke the smiling hour
With infant notes, saluting the fair skies,
(Heaven's highest work) the fair enamell'd meads,
And tall green shades along the winding banks
Of Avon gently flowing. Thence my days
Commenc'd harmonious; there began my skill
To vanquish care by the sweet-sounding string.
Hail happy hour, O blest remembrance, hail!
And banish woes for ever. Harps were made
For heaven's beatitudes: There Jesse's son
Tunes his bold lyre with majesty of sound,
To the creating and all-ruling power
Not unattentive: While ten thousand tongues
Of hymning seraphs and disbodied saints
Echo the joys and graces round the hills
Of paradise, and spread Messiah's name.
Transporting bliss! Make haste, ye rolling spheres,
Ye circling suns, ye winged minutes, haste,
Fulfil my destin'd period here, and raise
The meanest son of harmony to join
In that celestial concert.
And banish woes for ever. Harps were made
For heaven's beatitudes: There Jesse's son
Tunes his bold lyre with majesty of sound,
To the creating and all-ruling power
Not unattentive: While ten thousand tongues
Of hymning seraphs and disbodied saints
Echo the joys and graces round the hills
Of paradise, and spread Messiah's name.
Transporting bliss! Make haste, ye rolling spheres,
Ye circling suns, ye winged minutes, haste,
Fulfil my destin'd period here, and raise
The meanest son of harmony to join
In that celestial concert.
| The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D. | |