Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE ANGEL OF THE SUN, by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE ANGEL OF THE SUN, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: While bending o'er my golden lyre
Last Line: Rise, cherub, rise! Thy palm is won!
Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea
Subject(s): Angels; Universe


WHILE bending o'er my golden lyre,
While waving light my wing of fire;
Creation's regions to explore,
To gaze, to wonder, to adore:
While faithful to th' external will,
My task of glory I fulfil;
To rule the comet's dread career,
To guide the planets on their sphere:
While from this pure empyreal sky,
I dart my truth-enlightened eye!
What mists involve yon changeful scene,
How dark thy views, thou orb terrene!
E'en now compassion clouds awhile
Bright ecstacy's immortal smile;
I see the flames of war consume
Fair scenes that smiled in glowing bloom
O'er ev'ry nation, ev'ry land,
I see destruction wave his hand;
How dark thy billows, ocean-flood;
Lo, man has dyed thy waves in blood!
Nature, how changed thy vivid grace!
Vengeance and war thy charms deface.
Oh, scene of doubt, of care, of anguish;
Oh, scene, where virtue's doomed to languish;
Oh, scene, where death triumphant rides,
The spear, the sword, the javelin guides!
And canst thou be that earth, declare,
That earth so pure, so good, so fair,
O'er which, a new-created globe,
Thy Father spread perfection's robe?

Oh, Heaven how changed, how pale, how dim!
Since first arose the choral hymn,
That hailed, at thy auspicious birth,
A dawning paradise on earth;
On that sublime, creative morn,
That saw the infant-planet born,
How swelled the harp, the lyre, the voice,
To bless, to triumph, to rejoice.
How kneeling rapture led the song,
How glowed the exulting cherub throng,
When the fair orb, arising bright,
Sprang into glory, life and light.
Oh, Heaven, how changed a thorny waste,
With shadows dimmed, with clouds o'ercast,
See passions desolate the ball,
See kingdoms, thrones, and empires fall!
See mad Ambition's whirlwinds sweep,
Resistless as the wintry deep;
See, waving through the troubled sky,
His crimson banner glare on high:
Blush, Anger, blush, and hide thy sword,
Weep, Conquest, weep! imperious lord!
And mourn, to view thy sullied name
Inscribed in blood -- emblazed in flame!
And are those cries, which rend the air,
Of death, of torture, of despair,
Hymns that should mount on wings above,
To him, the GOD OF PEACE AND LOVE!
And is yon flame of ruthless war,
That spreads destruction's reign afar,
The incense taught by man to blaze,
For him who dwells in mercy's rays?
Mortals! if angels grief might know,
From angels if a tear might flow,
For you celestial woes might rise,
And pity dim a seraph's eyes;
Yet, mortals! oft, through mists and tears,
Your bright original appears,
Gleams through the veil with radiant smile,
A sunbeam on a ruined pile!
Exulting, oft the forms I trace,
Of moral grandeur, beauty, grace;
That speak your powers for glory given,
That still reveal the heir of heav'n!
Not yet extinct your heavenly fire,
For cherubs oft its beams admire!

I see fair virtue nobly rise,
Child, favourite, darling, of the skies;
Smile on the pangs that round her wait,
And brave, and bear the storms of fate.
I see her lift th' adoring eye,
Forbid the tear, suppress the sigh;
Still on her high career proceeding,
Sublime! august! -- though suffering -- bleeding;
The thom, though sharp -- the blast, though rude,
Shake not her lofty fortitude!

Oh, graceful dignity serene,
Faith, glory, triumph on thy mien!
Still, virtue! still the strife maintain,
The smile, the frown of fate, disdain;
Think on that hour, when freed from clay,
Thy soul shall rise to life and day;
Still mount to heaven on sorrow's car;
There shine a fixed unclouded star,
Like me to range, like me to soar,
Suns, planets, worlds of light explore;
Then angel-forms around shall throng,
And greet thee in triumphal song:
"Mount, spirit, mount! thy woes are o'er;
Pains, sickness, trials, now no more;
Hail, sister, hail! thy task is done,
Rise, cherub, rise! -- thy crown is won."

Oh, favoured mortals; best beloved,
Ye in stern perils fiercely proved;
When faith and truth, with pure control,
Refine, inspire, exalt your soul;
When firm in brightest, noblest aims,
Your bosoms glow with hallowed flames;
When still the narrow path you tread,
Nor scorn, nor grief, nor dangers dread:
Though fate with every dart assail,
To pierce your heart's heaven tempered mail;
Nor shrink, though death his javelin hurled,
Scorned yet untainted by the world;
Then think, ye brave, ye constant few,
To faith, to hope, to virtue true,
Then think, that seraphs from above,
Behold your deeds, admire, and love:
And those who Heaven's commands perform,
Who still the wave, who ride the storm;
Who point the lightning's fiery wing,
Or shed the genial dews of spring;
Who fill with balm the zephyr's breath,
Or taint th' avenging winds with death;
That those who guide the planet's course,
Who bend at light's transcendent source;
Oh, think that those your toil survey,
Your struggling mind, your rugged way!
Oh, think that those, e'en now prepare
A bower of bliss, for you to share;
E'en now, th' immortal wreath entwine,
Around your sainted brows to shine;
E'en now, their golden harps attune,
To greet you in the blaze of noon!
Soon shall your captive souls be free,
To bless, to hymn, to soar, like me!
The fair, the perfect, and the bright,
Shall beam unclouded on your sight;
Soon shall the silver lutes be strung,
Soon shall the paean lays be sung;
Hail, sister, hail! thy task is done:
Rise, cherub, rise! thy palm is won!





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