Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HYMN TO DARKNESS, by JOHN NORRIS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HYMN TO DARKNESS, by                    
First Line: Hail thou most sacred venerable thing
Last Line: Tis just we should adore, 'tis just we should thee sing.
Variant Title(s): To Darkness
Subject(s): Nature; Night; Bedtime


Hail thou most sacred venerable thing!
What Muse is worthy thee to sing?
Thee, from whose pregnant universal womb
All things, even Light thy rival, first did come.
What dares he not attempt that sings of thee,
Thou first and greatest mystery?
Who can the secrets of thy essence tell?
Thou like the light of God art inaccessible.
Before great Love this monument did raise,
This ample theatre of praise.
Before the folding circles of the sky
Were tun'd by Him who is all harmony.
Before the morning stars their hymn began,
Before the councel held for man.
Before the birth of either Time or Place,
Thou reign'st unquestion'd monarch in the empty space.
Thy native lot thou didst to Light resign,
But still half of the globe is thine.
Here with a quiet, and yet aweful hand,
Like the best emperours thou dost command.
To thee the stars above their brightness owe,
And mortals their repose below.
To thy protection Fear and Sorrow flee,
And those that weary are of light, find rest in thee.
Tho light and glory be th' Almighty's throne,
Darkness in His pavilion.
From that His radiant beauty, but from thee
He has His terror and His majesty.
Thus when He first proclaim'd His sacred Law,
And would His rebel subjects awe,
Like princes on some great solemnity,
H' appear'd in's robes of State, and clad Himself with thee.
The blest above do thy sweet umbrage prize,
When cloy'd with light, they veil their eyes.
The vision of the Deity is made
More sweet and beatifick by thy shade.
But we poor tenants of this orb below
Don't here thy excellencies know,
Till Death our understandings does improve,
And then our wiser ghosts thy silent night-walks love.
But thee I now admire, thee would I chuse
For my religion, or my Muse.
'Tis hard to tell whether thy reverend shade
Has more good votaries or poets made,
From thy dark caves were inspirations given,
And from thick groves went vows to Heaven.
Hail then thou Muse's and Devotion's spring,
'Tis just we should adore, 'tis just we should thee sing.







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