Classic Poem

Hark , what mild mellifluous measures,
Source of spirit-stirring pleasures!
Now exulting, now in anguish,
Now they swell, and now they languish;
Ever sweet, but ever varying,
Hoping now, and now despairing,
Highest joy, and deepest care,
Love and frantic Hate are there;
Pleasure sweeps the string along,
But Sorrow mingles in the song.

Who now descends to lead the choir?
What mighty hand has struck the lyre?
I see, I see, for who but she,
The bold energic soul can be,
To pour a song so wild, so strong,
So heaven-replete with harmony,
No trembler treads yon mountain's brow,
No son of song enraptures now;
The mighty mother's self descends,
Adoring Nature prostrate bends.
She shakes her golden locks—she smiles,
And scatters roses round;
Her smile the tear of Guilt beguiles,
And heals Affliction's wound.
She traces on the ductile sand,
A circle for her airy band,
And mutters many a magic sound,
That soft and solemn murmurs round;
Then waves her wand, and calls on all
The mystic powers that rule the ball,
The shadowy shapes of dawning day,
That flutter in the noontide ray;
That haunt the gloomy midnight hour,
That court her smile, or own her power.

She paus'd, and swift obedient to the spell,
A thousand airy forms fantastic glide,
Some on the sunbeam red, exulting ride,
And field, and fen, and brake, and flowery dell,
Gave up their wandering spirits all,
Obedient to the potent call:
And first, adorn'd with smiling bays,
Love trod the circle's magic maze,
With folded arms, and eyes uprolled,
And loosely flowing locks of gold,
And as he trod with looks profound
And gestures wild the mystic round,
He warbled forth with artless ease,
In sweet melodious cadences,
A song replete with joy and care,
Of mingled rapture and despair.

Next came a strange disordered train,
Came Pride and Pity, Peace and Pain,
Exulting Hope breath'd all her fire,
Wild Ardour rush'd to seize the lyre.
Fear would have sought the deep profound,
But durst not disobey the sound;
Nay, withering Guilt and wrinkled Care,
And fierce infuriate Horror there,
Came darkly smiling, hand in hand,
To mingle with the motley band.

Despair came latest, wandering wide
With gaze of mingled pain and pride,
With eye that shot infectious flame,
With dark and sullen cheek he came:
Hope never cheer'd his prospect dim,
Affection had no charm for him;
And when arose the sweetest song,
That ever swept the lyre along,
Grief threw her cypress wreath away,
And rapture kindled at the lay;
Still sad Despair
With frenzied air,
And hurried footstep pac'd the round,
And his dark hue,
The darker grew,
The sweeter swell'd the sound.
How does all nature honour thee,
Oh! heaven-descended Poesy!
The hill, the dale, the heath, the grove,
The voice of Nature and of Love,
The burning thought, the breathing line,
That melts, that thrills, all—all are thine!
In every shape, in every vest,
Come, welcome to a votary's breast.
Come as a goddess, parent, king,
I'll worship, honour, homage, bring;
A helpless weeping fondling be,
A foster dear I'll prove to thee;
Or come a wandering harper wild,
By night and pathless plains beguil'd
Strike at my soul for entrance fair,
And Love and Joy shall greet thee there.

The poet! hallow'd, honour'd name,
The dearest, eldest child of Fame,
While life remains green laurels grow,
A garland for the poet's brow,
But oh! what fairer flowers shall bloom,
Eternal round the poet's tomb:
The fairies all shall leave their cells,
Where Love with Peace and Plenty dwells,
The mossy cave and sylvan grot,
To weep around the hallowed spot;
The Seasons as they wander by,
With liberal hand and sparkling eye,
Shall pause to gaze on scene so fair,
And strew their sweetest garlands there;
And oft amid the night's profound,
When solemn stillness reigns around,
The mystic music of the spheres,
Reveal'd alone to gifted ears,
In dirges due and clear shall toll,
The knell of that departed soul.