Egeria, or, The Spirit of Nature and Other Poems ::

“Father,” said Jubal's eldest son,
“The skies were robed in gloom;
Cloud struck on cloud, and long and loud
I heard the tempests boom;
Like chariots rattling through the stars,
I heard their axles roll;
Heaven's pavement flashed; the thunders crashed—
'T was music to my soul.”

II

“Father,” said Jubal's second son,
“I walked besile the sea;
With mighty roar against the shore
The waves were dashing free;
The waves and winds, together loosed,
Went mad, beyond controul;
With joy, yet fear, I leap'd to hear—
'T was music to my soul.”

III

“Father,” said Jubal's younger son,
“I roam'd the forest through;
The northern blast, careering past,
With fitful anger blew;
The oak trees bowed their lofty heads,
While from their branches stole
An awful rhyme, a song sublime—
'T was music to my soul.”

IV

“Father,” said Jubal's youngest son,
“Beside the rock's grey wall,
I climbed alone the mossy stone,
To hear the torrent fall;
Ever it chants a solemn hymn,
The waters rush and roll,
They leap and play, in foam and spray—
'T is music to my soul.”

V

“Father,” his eldest daughter said,
“The stream runs freely by;
The violets blink upon its brink,
Its breast reflects the sky;
It sings all day a cheerful song
Beneath the grassy knoll;
Its pebbles chafe—its ripples laugh—
'T is music to my soul.”

VI

“Father,” his second daughter said,
“I heard the sky-lark sing
Up in the air, a jewel fair,
On forehead of the spring;
I know not what the song might be,
It seemed like rapture whole;
A melody—a mystery—
'T was music to my soul.”

VII

“Father,” his youngest daughter said,
“I listened, and I heard,
At midnight deep, when half asleep,
The whisper of a word.
It was my mother at my bed,
One hasty kiss she stole,
On lips and cheek—I could not speak,
'T was music to my soul.”

VIII

And Jubal, to his children's voice,
No word in answer made;
But still he wrought, as if in thought
His questioning fingers strayed.
At length his eyes, with keen delight,
Shot rays like burning coal;
“Oh, children mine! a power divine,
Is bursting on my soul!”

IX

He sought the wild wood solitude,
And supplicated heaven;
The floods of music o'er him rushed—
The needful strength was given:
And first, to please his daughters mild,
The gentle harp he strung,
Then for his sons built organ pipes,
And struck till echo rung.

X

“Joy! children, joy!” he shouted forth,
“Be all your anthems poured!
The organ swell shall ever tell
The glory of the Lord.
But when you sing of earth and men,
Of human loves and fears,
Your harps shall sound in softer strains,
Harmonious with the spheres.”

University of Virginia Library

JUBAL AND HIS CHILDREN.

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