Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, WAR AND PEACE, 1808, by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

WAR AND PEACE, 1808, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Thou, bright futurity, whose prospect beams
Last Line: One hallowed zone -- to circle all mankind.
Alternate Author Name(s): Browne, Felicia Dorothea
Subject(s): Corunna, Spain; Moore, Sir John (1761-1809); Peace; War


THOU, bright Futurity, whose prospect beams,
In dawning radiance on our daylight dreams;
Whose lambent meteors and ethereal forms,
Gild the dark clouds, and glitter through the storms;
On thy broad canvas fancy loves to trace
Her brilliant Iris, drest in vivid grace;
Paints fair creations in celestial dyes,
Tints of the morn and blushes of the skies;
And bids her scenes perfection's robe assume,
The mingling flush of light, and life, and bloom.
Thou bright Futurity, whose morning-star
Still beams unveiled, unclouded from afar;
Whose lovely vista smiling Hope surveys,
Through the dim twilight of the silvery haze;
Oh! let the muse expand her wing on high,
Thy shadowy realms, thy worlds unknown descry!
Let her clear eyebeam, flashing lucid light,
Chase from thy forms th' involving shades of night,
Pierce the dark clouds that veil thy noontide rays,
And soar, exulting, in meridian blaze
In bliss, in grief, thy radiant scenes bestow,
The zest of rapture, or the balm of woe;
For, as the sunflower to her idol turns,
Glows in his noon, and kindles as he burns;
Expands her bosom to th' exalting fire,
Lives but to gaze, and gazes to admire;
E'en so to thee, the mind incessant flies,
From thy pure source the fount of joy supplies,
And steals from thee the sunny light that throws
A brighter blush on pleasure's living rose!
To thee pale sorrow turns her eye of tears,
Lifts the dim curtain of unmeasured years;
And hails thy promised land, th' Elysian shore.
Where weeping virtue shall bewail no more!
Now, while the sounds of martial wrath assail,
While the red banner floats upon the gale;
While dark destruction, with his legion-bands,
Waves the bright sabre o'er devoted lands;
While War's dread comet flashes through the air,
And fainting nations tremble at the glare;
To thee Futurity from scenes like these,
Pale fancy turns, for heaven-imparted ease;
Turns to behold, in thy unclouded skies
The orb of peace in bright perspective rise;
And pour around, with joy-diffusing ray.
Life light, and glory, in a flood of day.
Thou, whose loved presence and benignant smile
Has beamed effulgence on this favoured isle;
Thou! the fair seraph, in immortal state,
Throned on the rainbow, heaven's emblazoned gate;
Thou, whose mild whispers in the summer breeze
Control the storm, and undulate the seas,
Spirit of mercy! oh, return, to bring
Palm in thy wreath, and "healing on thy wing!"
Compose each passion to th' eternal will,
Say to the hurricane of war, -- "Be still,"
"Vengeance, expire; thy reign, ambition, cease;
Beam, light of heaven, triumphant star of peace."

Is this the muse's wild, illusive dream,
An airy picture, an ideal theme?
Shall death still ride victorious o'er the slain,
And his "pale charger" desolate the plain?
Ne'er shall revenge her vulture-pinion fold,
Close her dark eye, her lightning-arm withhold?

Still must oppression cause th' eternal strife,
And breathe dire mildew o'er the blooms of life?
Must war still ravage with his car of fire,
And victim myriads in the blaze expire?

Supernal Power! on suffering earth look down,
Tyrannic might shall perish in thy frown,
Oh! deign to speed that blest, appointed time,
When peace and faith shall smile on every clime!
But first in clouds, the dark, eventful day,
Oh, wrath, avenging wrath! must roll away!
Thy sword, oh, Justice! o'er the world must wave,
Ere Mercy dawn, to triumph and to save.

Shades of the prophet-bards! majestic train,
Who seized the harp from Inspiration's fane,
And, fired and guided by divine control,
Woke every chord to rapture and to soul!
Shades of the prophet-bards! in days of old,
Whose gifted hands the leaf of fate unrolled;
Whose prescient eyes undimmed by age or tears,
Explored the avenue of distant years;
Did those blest eyes th' enchanted scene survey
Of smiling concord's universal sway?
And did your hearts with joy exulting burn,
To see her Paradise on earth return?
Yes! hallowed seers! to you the bliss was given,
To read unveiled, the dread decrees of heaven!
You saw th' oppressor's might in judgment hurled,
A storm of vengeance on the guilty world!
Beheld his throne reversed, his empire past,
And peace and joy descend, serene, at last.

So when impetuous winds forget to rave,
And sunset radiance trembles o'er the wave:
Sweet Eve advancing o'er the summer-deep,
Charms every billow, every breeze to sleep.

Dawn, age of bliss! but ere thy morn shall rise,
And waft a chain of cherubs from the skies;
The foes of man, who mark their deathful way,
With tears of blood, and earthquakes of dismay:
These, these must fall, a desolating band,
Fall by the darts, in Retribution's hand;
And tyrants vanquished, humbled in the dust,
Kneel at her shrine, and own the sentence just!
Then wave, oh, Albion! wave thy sword again,
Call thy brave champions to the battle plain!
Rise, might of nations! ardent to oppose
The rushing torrent of unpitying foes!
Soon shall they own that freedom's cause inspires,
Undaunted spirit and resistless fires!
Rise! all combined, "in arms, in heart, the same,"
The arms of honour and the heart of flame,
Nor check th' avenging sword, the patriot-spear,
Till stern Ambition falls, in mid career!
Then let the falchion sleep, the combat cease,
The sun of conquest light the path of peace,
Let the green laurel with the palm entwine,
And rear on trophies bright, her firm, eternal shrine.

Dawn, age of bliss! the wounds of discord close,
Furl the red standard, bid the sword repose,
Then o'er the globe let worshipped freedom smile,
Bright as in Albion's truth-illumined isle!
Her Grecian temple rear on every shore,
Where every knee shall bend and heart adore!
Queen of the valiant arm, the warrior-breast,
Light of the ocean! day-star of the west:
Oh! Albion, Liberty's immortal fane,
Empress of isles! palladium of the main!
Though thy loud thunders through the world resound,
Though thy red lightnings flash victorious round,
Though nations own, in many a distant clime,
Thy arm triumphant, as thy name sublime;
Rock of the waves! though proud, from zone to zone
Extend the pillars of thy naval throne;
Around thy coast though wild destruction roars,
Yet calm and fertile smile thy favoured shores;
In emerald verdure blooms thy sunny plain,
And the dark war-blast rolls without -- in vain!
Though flames of valour, kindling in thine eye,
Brave every storm, and every foe defy;
Yet soft beneath, its milder beam, serene,
Luxuriance blossoms o'er the glowing scene;
Fair laugh thy vales, no deathful sounds assail,
Mirth warbles free, and music swells the gale;
While firm in might, thy victor-arm extends,
Death to thy foes, and succour to thy friends!

Thus potent Prospero's creative spell
Bade the wild surge in mountain fury swell;
Called up the spirits of the raging deep,
Aroused the whirlwind, o'er the waves to sweep;
But on th' enchanted isle, his fair domain,
Raised the bright vision of the sylphid train;
And bade soft notes, and fairy-warbled airs,
Melt o'er the sense, and lull corroding cares.

Yet, Queen of Isles, though peace, with angel-form,
Smile on thy cliffs, regardless of the storm,
Favoured of heaven! e'en thou, though distant far,
Hast wept the horrors of relentless war;
E'en thou hast mourned o'er many a hero's bier,
Graced with thy laurels, hallowed with thy tear,
For those whose arms, whose blood preserved thee free
(Who would not bleed, O peerless isle! for thee?)
For those who, falling on their subject wave,
Made the dark billow glory's proudest grave;
How oft has anguish taught thy tears to flow,
Thy sighs, despondence -- and thine accents, woe!

Yes, thou hast mourned the brave, illustrious dead,
Martyrs for thee, by faith and valour led:
When he, the warrior of the patriot glow,
Whose ebbing life-blood stained Canadian snow;
When thy own Wolfe, by all thy spirit fired,
Triumphant fought, exulted, and expired;
Gave to thy fame the last, the lingering breath,
The joy in agony, the smile in death,
How swelled thy heart, with blended feeling's tide,
How sorrow paled the kindling cheek of pride,
And the bright garland purchased by his doom,
Seemed half-despoiled, and withering in its bloom!

Yes, when thy Nelson, matchless in the fight,
Bade nations own thee of resistless might;
And pouring on their heads destruction's flame,
Closed in its dreadful blaze a life of fame;
When the red star of conquest and of power
Beamed in full zenith on his parting hour;
Dispersed the shadows of surrounding gloom.
And shed meridian lustre -- on his tomb;
Then the sad tears which mourned thy gallant son,
Dimmed the fair trophies by his prowess won;
Then patriot-sighs and consecrated grief,
Embalmed the memory of the undaunted chief:
Pale, weeping victory tore her laurel crown,
And tuned to sorrow's dirge the clarion of renown.

And thou, firm leader of the intrepid host,
Which braved each peril on Iberia's coast,
Thy name, oh, Moore, through long, succeeding years,
Shall claim the tribute of thy country's tears;
Oh, firm in faith, in countless dangers proved,
In spirit lofty, and by death unmoved!
Thine was the towering soul, disdaining fear,
And fatal valour closed thy bright career.
Illustrious Leader! in that hour of fate,
When hope and terror near the sufferer wait;
When the pale cheek and fading eye proclaim
The last long struggle of the trembling frame;
When the fierce death-pang vibrates every sense,
And fainting nature shudders in suspense;
E'en then thy bosom felt the patriot-flame,
Still beat the quivering pulse at Albion's name,
In that dread hour thy thoughts to Albion flew,
Thy parting thrill of life, thy latest throb was true!

Illustrious Leader! on that awful day,
When war and horror frowned in dark array;
When vengeance waved her fire-flag o'er the slain,
And carnage hovered o'er Corunna's plain;
Faint with fatigue and streaming with their blood,
How nobly firm thy hand of heroes stood.
'Twas theirs unmoved, unconquered, to oppose
Pain, famine, danger, and unnumbered foes;
Nor toil, nor want, nor sickness then subdued,
The "Lion-heart" of British fortitude;
E'en then those humbled foes their might deplored,
And owned that conquest waved Britannia's sword
E'en then they fought, intrepid, undismayed,
Death in their charge and lightning on their blade!
Yes, warrior band, by noblest ardour led,
True to the last, ye triumphed while ye bled;
Serene in pain, exulting 'midst alarms,
Bold, firm, invincible, your matchless arms;
Then Freedom reared her victor-flag on high,
Glowed in each heart and flashed from every eye;
England! thy glory every bosom swelled,
England! thy spirit every arm impelled;
MOORE, thy bright sun in fame, in victory set,
Though dimmed with tears, though clouded with regret!
Yet shall thy trophies rear, to distant time,
High on thy native shore a cenotaph sublime.
But, ah! bold Victory! can thy festal train,
Thy purple streamers, or thy choral strain;
Can thy proud spear, in wreaths immortal drest,
Thy radiant panoply, thy wavy crest;
Can these one grief, one bosom pang beguile,
Or teach despair one heart reviving smile?
Tint the pale cheek with pleasure's mantling hue,
Light the dim eye with joy and lustre new?
Or check one sigh, one sad, yet fruitless tear,
Fond love devotes to martyred valour's bier?
Lo! where, with pallid look and suppliant hands,
Near the cold urn th' imploring mother stands;
Fixed is her eye, her anguish cannot weep,
There all her hopes with youthful virtue sleep!
There sleeps the son, whose opening years displayed
Each flattering promise, doomed so soon to fade.
Too brave, too ardent, on the field he fell,
Fame hovered near, and Conquest rung his knell.
But could their pomp console her wounded breast,
Dispel one sigh, or lull one care to rest?
Ah, suffering Parent, fated still to mourn,
Ah, wounded heart, -- he never shall return.

He fell! that eye of soft and varying ray,
Where warm expression kindled into day,
Where ardour sparkled, where affection beamed,
And youth and hope in living lustre streamed;
That voice beloved, whose bliss-imparting tone,
Bade her fond heart its thrilling magic own;
That mantling cheek, where animation glowed,
Spread the rich bloom, the vivid flush bestowed;
That brilliant eye is closed in shades of night,
That voice is hushed, that cheek no longer bright!
'Twas hers when hope one meteor-beam had given,
(Fair form of light! sweet fugitive of heaven!)
To see dark clouds obscure the rainbow-dream,
Watch its pale sunset, and its closing gleam!
To see the last, the lingering bliss depart,
The lonely Day-star of her widowed heart!
He fell! -- her woe, her soul-consuming grief
Mourns in no language, seeks for no relief;
Forbids the mind in sympathy to glow,
The voice to murmur, and the tear to flow;
But deep within, enshrined in silent sway,
Dwells on each nerve -- and withers life away.

Or see you Orphan maid, in beauty's bloom,
Fair lovely mourner o'er a Father's tomb;
For him, far distant on the battle plain,
She prayed, and wished, and wept -- alas! -- in vain;
No tender friend received his parting breath,
No filial sweetness cheered the hour of death --
For, ah! when nature most demands to share
The smile of tenderness, the hand of care,
E'en then, deserted on the field, he bled;
Unknown, unmarked, his gallant spirit fled;
Lo! where she weeps forlorn, in anguish lost,
A frail mimosa, blighted by the frost;
Who now shall guard the blossom of her youth,
The gem of innocence, the flower of truth?
Sweet hapless maid, thy only friend is gone,
Hope lingering smiles, and points to heaven alone.

Ah, who can tell the thousands doomed to moan,
Condemned by war, to hopeless grief unknown?
Thou, laureate Victor! when thy blazoned shield,
Wears the proud emblems of the conquered field;
When trophies glitter on thy radiant car,
And thronging myriads hail thee from afar:
When praise attunes her spirit-breathing lyre,
Swells every tone, wakes every chord of fire;
Then could thine eyes each drooping mourner see,
Behold each hopeless anguish, caused by thee;
Hear, for each measure of the votive strain,
The rending sigh that murmurs o'er the slain;
See, for each banner fame and victory wave
Some sufferer bending o'er a soldier's grave;
How would that scene, with grief and horror fraught,
Chill the warm glow, and check th' exulting thought!
E'en in that hour, that gay, triumphal hour,
'Midst the bright pageants of applause and power;
When at thy name th' adoring paeans rise,
And waft thy deeds in incense to the skies;
Fame in thine eyes would veil her towering plume,
And Victory's laurels lose their fairest bloom.

Power of the ruthless arm, the deathful spear,
Unmoved, unpitying, in thy dread career;
Whom no sad cries, no mournful scenes impede,
Melt thy proud heart, and curb thy lightning speed;
Around whose throne malignant spirits wait,
Whose path is ruin, and whose arm is fate!
Stern, dark Ambition! Typhon of the world!
Thine are the darts, o'er man in vengeance hurled!
'Tis thine, where nature smiles with young delight,
With fiery wing, to spread Oppression's blight;
To blast the realms with rich profusion crowned,
Like the dire Upas, tainting all around!
Thus o'er the southern climes, luxuriant lands,
Where spreads the olive, where the vine expands;
The dread volcano bids the torrent sweep,
Rolls the fierce lava burning down the steep;
Life, beauty, verdure, fated to destroy,
Blast every bloom, and wither every joy!
Sweet orange groves, with fruit and blossoms fair,
Which breathed the soul of fragrance on the air;
Vineyards that blushed, with mantling clusters graced
Gay domes, erected by the hand of taste;
These mingled all in one resistless fire,
Flame to the skies, fair Nature's funeral pyre.

Ambition! vainly wouldst thou gild thy name,
With spacious rays of conquest and of fame;
Truth waves her wand! from her all-piercing eye,
From her Ithuriel-spear, thy glories fly!
In vain to thee may suppliant mercy kneel,
Plead with soft voice, and deprecate the steel!
Look up, with seraph-eye, in tears benign
Smile through each tear, with eloquence divine;
In vain implore thee to relent and spare,
With cherub-mien and soul-dissolving prayer:
Lost are those accents of melodious charms,
'Midst the loud clangour of surrounding arms;
Thy heart of adamant repels the strain,
Mercy! thy prayer, thy tear, thy hope, is vain.

But can remorse, despotic power! prevail,
And wound thy bosom through the "twisted mail?"
Say, can his frown, by shuddering conscience felt,
Pierce the dark soul which mercy cannot melt?
No, tyrant! no, when conquest points thy way,
And lights thy track -- the blood-path of dismay;
E'en then his darts, though barbed with fiery pain,
Fall from thy woundless heart, averted by disdain.

Power of the ruthless arm, we see thy form,
Tower midst the darkness of the gathering storm;
We see thy sabre with portentous blaze,
Flash o'er the nations, trembling as they gaze;
And lo! we hear thine awful voice resound,
While fear and wonder faint, through empires round!
"Realms of the globe, submit! adore my power!
Mine the red falchion, practised to devour!
Mine, dark destruction's torch of lurid light,
Mine, her keen scimitar's resistless might!
Chiefs! patriots! heroes! kneeling at my shrine,
Your arms, your laurels, and your fame, resign!
Bend, ye proud isles! my dread behest obey!
Yield, prostrate nations! and confess my sway!
Lo! the bright ensigns of supreme command,
Flame on my brow, and glitter in my hand!
Lo! at my throne what vanquished myriads wait,
My look, decision! and my sceptre, fate!
Ye lands, ye monarchs! bow the vassal-knee!
World, thou art mine! and I alone am free;
For who shall dare, with dauntless heart advance,
Rouse my dread arm, and brave my potent lance!"
Relentless power! thy deeds from age to age,
Stain the fair annals of th' impartial page!
O'er the mild beam of order, silvery bright,
Long have thy votaries poured the clouds of night,
And changed the loveliest realms, where plenty smiled,
To the lone desert and abandoned wild!

Ye western regions of a brighter zone,
Ye lands that bowed at Montezuma's throne,
Where vivid nature wears the richest dyes,
Matured to glory by exulting skies;
Scenes of luxuriance! o'er your blooming pride,
How ruin swept the desolating tide!
When the fierce Cortes poured his faithless train,
O'er the gay treasures of your fervid reign;
Taught the pure streams with crimson stains to flow,
Made the rich vales a wilderness of woe!
And swelled each breeze of soft ambrosial air,
With cries of death and murmurs of despair.

Peruvian realms! where wealth resplendent shines,
Throned in full glory, 'midst your diamond mines;
Where vegetation spreads her brightest hues,
Nursed by soft airs, and balm-descending dews;
Where all his beams, the worshipped sun bestows,
And Flora's empire to perfection glows;
O'er your gay plains, Ambition spreads alarms,
When stern Pizarro rushed with conquering arms,
Despoiled your wealth, and ravaged all your charms!
Ferocious leader! his aspiring soul,
Nor fear could tame, nor social ties control!
Ardent and firm, in countless dangers bold,
Dark -- savage -- fierce -- to faith, to mercy -- cold.

Then was the sword to dire oppression given,
Her vulture-wing obscured the light of heaven!
Through many a plantain shade, and cedar grove,
Where the blest Indian carolled joy and love;
The war-note swelled upon the zephyr's calm,
The wood-nymph, Peace, forsook her bowers of palm!
And Freedom fled, to Andes' heights unknown,
Majestic Solitude's primeval throne!
Where Echo sleeps, in loneliness profound,
Hears not a step, nor quivers at a sound!
Yet there the genius of eternal snows,
Marked far beneath a scene of death disclose!
Saw the red combat raging on the plain,
Heard the deep dirge that murmured o'er the slain!
While stern Ambition waked th' exulting cry,
And waved his blazing torch, and meteor-flag, on high.

Yet, ah! not there, vindictive power! alone,
Has lawless carnage reared thy towering throne;
For Europe's polished realms, through every age,
Have mourned thy triumphs and bewailed thy rage!
Though soft refinement there, o'er every land,
Spread the mild empire of her silver wand;
Erect supreme, her light Corinthian fane,
Tune the sweet lyre, and modulate the strain;
Though Genius there, on Rapture's pinions soar,
And worlds of ether and of fire explore;
There, though Religion smile with seraph eye,
And shed her gifts, like manna from the sky,
While Faith and Hope, exulting in her sight,
Pour the full noon of glory's living light;
There still Ambition bids his victims bleed,
Still rolls his whirlwind, with destructive speed!
Still in his flame, devoted realms consume,
Fled is their smile and withered is their bloom!
With every charm has Nature's lavish hand
Adorned, sweet Italy! thy favoured land!
There Summer laughs, with glowing aspect fair,
Unfolds her tints, and "waves her golden hair;"
Bids her light sylphs delicious airs convey,
On their soft pinions, waving as they play;
O'er clustered grapes the lucid mantle throw,
And spread gay life in one empurpling glow!
Paint all the rainbow on perennial flowers,
And shed exuberance o'er thy myrtle bowers!
Verdure in every shade thy woods display,
Where soft gradations melt in light away!
And vernal sweets, in rich profusion blow,
E'en 'midst the reign of solitude and snow;
Yet what avail the bright ambrosial stores,
Which gay redundance o'er thy region pours?
Devoted land! from long-departed time,
The chosen theatre of war and crime;
What though for thee transcendent suns arise,
The myrtle blossoms, and the zephyr sighs;
What though for thee again Arcadia blooms,
And cloudless radiance all thy realm illumes;
There still has Rapine seized her yielding prey,
There still Oppressior spreads th' unbounded sway;
There oft has War each blooming charm effaced,
And left the glowing vale a bleak, deserted waste.

Is there a land, where halcyon peace has reigned,
From age to age, in glory unprofaned?
Has dwelt serenely in perpetual rest,
"Heaven in her eye," and mercy in her breast,
Ah, no! from clime to clime, with ruthless train,
Has War still ravaged o'er the blasted plain'
His lofty banner to the winds unfurled,
And swept the storm of vengeance o'er the world.

Yet, oh! stern god! if ever conscious right,
If ever justice armed thee for the fight;
If e'er fair truth approved thy dread career,
Smiled on thy track and curbed thy dreadful spear;
Now may the generous heart exulting see,
Those righteous powers in amity with thee:
For never, never, in a holier cause,
Nor sanctioned e'er by purer, nobler laws;
Has Albion seized the sabre and the shield,
Or rushed impetuous to the ensanguined field.

Oh! when that cause triumphant shall prevail,
And Freedom's foes her ark no more assail;
Then might thy smile, sweet Peace! thy angel-form
Beam through the clouds, and tranquillize the storm
Lo! to the Muse's bright prophetic eyes,
What scenes unfold, what radiant visions rise;
See hand in hand, and wafted from above,
Celestial Mercy, and angelic love!
Lo! from the regions of the morning-star,
Descending seraphs bear their sun-bright car.

"High the peaceful streamers wave,
'Lo!' they sing, 'we come to save;
Come to smile on every shore,
Truth and Eden to restore;
Come, the balm of joy to bring,
Borne on softest gales of spring;
Rapture, swell the choral voice,
Favoured earth, rejoice, rejoice.

"Now the work of death is o'er,
Sleep, thou sword! to wake no more:
Never more Ambition's hand
Shall wave thee o'er a trembling land,
Never more, in hopeless anguish,
Caused by thee, shall virtue languish
Rapture, swell the choral voice,
Favoured earth, rejoice, rejoice.

"Cease to flow, thou purple flood,
Cease to fall, ye tears of blood;
Swell no more the clarion's breath,
Wake no more the song of death;
Rise, ye hymns of concord, rise,
Incense, worthy of the skies;
Wake the paean, tune the voice,
Favoured earth, rejoice, rejoice.

'Nature, smile! thy vivid grace,
Now no more shall war deface;
Airs of spring, oh! sweetly breathe,
Summer! twine thy fairest wreath;
Not the warrior's bier to spread,
Not to crown the victor's head;
But with flowers of every hue,
Love and mercy's path to strew;
Swell to heaven the choral voice,
Favoured earth, rejoice, rejoice.

"Sleep, ambition! rage, expire!
Vengeance! fold thy wing of fire!
Close thy dark and lurid eye,
Bid thy torch, forsaken, die;
Furl thy banner, waving proud,
Dreadful as the thundercloud;
Shall destruction blast the plain?
Shall the falchion rage again?
Shall the sword thy bands dissever?
Never, sweet Affection! never!
As the halcyon o'er the ocean,
Lulls the billow's wild commotion,
So we bid dissension cease.
Bloom, O amaranth of peace!
Twine the spear with vernal roses,
Now the reign of discord closes;
Goddess of th' unconquered isles,
Freedom! triumph in our smiles.
Blooming youth, and wisdom hoary
Bards of fame, and sons of glory;
Albion! pillar of the main.
Monarchs, nations, join the strain;
Swell to heaven th' exulting voice;
Mortals, triumph! earth rejoice."

Oh! blissful song, and shall thy notes resound,
While joy and wonder bend entranced around?
And shall thy music float on every breeze,
Melt on the shores and warble o'er the seas?
Oh! mercy, love, ambassadors of heaven,
And shall your sunshine to mankind be given?
Hope, is thy tale a visionary theme?
Oh! smile, supernal power, and realize the dream!
And thou, the radiant messenger of truth,
Decked with perennial charms, unfading youth;
Oh! thou, whose pinions as they wave, diffuse
All Hybla's fragrance and all Hermon's dews;
Thou, in whose cause have martyrs died serene,
In soul triumphant, and august in mien;
Oh! bright Religion, spread thy spotless robe,
Salvation's mantle, o'er a guilty globe;
Oh! let thine ark, where'er the billows roll,
Borne on their bosom, float from pole to pole!
Each distant isle and lonely coast explore,
And bear the olive-branch to every shore;
Come, Seraph! come: fair pity in thy train,
Shall sweetly breathe her soul-dissolving strain,
While her blue eyes through tears benignly beam,
Soft as the moonlight, quivering on the stream;
Come, Seraph! come, around thy form shall play,
Diffusive glories of celestial day;
Oh! let each clime thy noon of lustre share,
And rapture hail the perfect and the fair;
Let peace on earth resound from heaven once more,
And angel-harps th' exulting anthems pour;
While faith, and truth, and holy wisdom bind,
One hallowed zone -- to circle all mankind.





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