Classic Poem

III.

ODE TO THE EARTH.

O Earth , from whose dread womb
I, after wandering long
In faithful miner's charge,
With joy at last
Once more emerge upon the sunny sward,
Weary and travel-stain'd!
Declare, declare,
Within thy secret depth what marvels dwell, —
Marvels by us unguess'd,
Who walk thine upper shore.
For many such thou hast, as well I know,
Or spiritual, or of material kind;
Dread Angels subterrene,
Mighty in works of ill;
Brute things, of which
In learned book no form or name appears;
And wrought in thousand shapes
Down thy long avenues of grottoes fair,
A hidden growth of secret substances,
Whereof our brightest gems but tokens are;
And rivers of strange fire,
Far underneath,
Preparing, day by day, a second flood;
And treasures all untold
Of virgin gold,
Which evermore from man thou dost withhold;
And cities underground,
A multitude of mansions widely spread,
Where rest, in sleep profound,
Th' unbusied nations of the countless dead!
A labyrinth sublime,
Down whither, through all time,
But ONE alone
Descending, hath been known
Again the crystal stair of life to climb.

But for marvels why explore,
O Earth, thy hidden central core?
We but thine outer rind beholding,
New wonders see for ever there unfolding.
There are the waters gather'd into seas,
Broad continents and isles,
Rivers and lakes, and ever-shifting breeze,
Dimpling thy face with smiles.
There are the forests tall,
The cultur'd landscape green,
Rock, grove, and waterfall,
Blue skies serene,
And of the seasons blest the gently varying scene.
While ever round thee, in their silent flight,
Fair day and solemn night
Each after each proceed,
Unwearied pilgrims, scattering on their way,
Or sun-bespangled ray,
Or dewy darkness answering nature's need;
Waking to toil, or folding into rest,
The thousand peoples shelter'd on thy breast.

But chiefly me, O Earth, thy mountains fill
With wonder at His power and skill,
Who pil'd aloft their soaring height,
As monuments of His eternal might!
Or verdurous with groves,
Or bleak with barren crag,
Silver'd with snow, or capp'd with roaring flame;
All they alike their great Creator Lord proclaim.
Hail Etna fair!
Hail leafy Apennine and Pyrenees,
Athos, and that vast range Carpathian nam'd,
Taurus and Caucasus,
Vesuvius, Himalaya, Atlas old,
Historic Alps,
Andes, and Apalachian heights sublime!
Hail, too, to ye
Mountains of God!
Which of His glory saw in ancient days!
Thou patriarch Ararat!
Thou, Mount of Vision, dear for Isaac's sake!
Sinai and Hor,
Carmel and Lebanon, and many more!
And ye, diviner still,
Earth's choicest Mounts,
Whose verdant sides were press'd
By the blest footsteps of the Son of man, —
Fair Olivet, with Sion's holy hill,
And Thabor's flowery floor,
And Galilee's dear Mount without a name,
Where Christ, new-ris'n, to His Apostles came!

Thus, O Earth, upon thy face
I a thousand wonders trace;
Beauties old, and beauties new,
Ever springing to the view!
And oft in meditative song
Musing, as I walk along,
On th' interminable design
Shown in nature's work divine; —
Musing upon the tide of times untold,
When o'er the mountain-tops primeval ocean roll'd, —
I wonder if, by slow degrees,
Thou, Lord, didst into land convert the seas;
Or rather in its present state
By one sheer act the whole create!
Yet this I know, and this proclaim,
That unto Thee it was the same,
Or in a moment all to frame,
Or to elaborate the whole by stages,
Through the slow growth of million million ages.

Wherefore howe'er the work was wrought,
All praise be Thine, who all hast made;
All praise be Thine, who all hast bought,
With the price thy Lifeblood paid;
What time descending from the empyreal height,
Thou who creation with Thy finger framest,
Begotten God of God, and Light of Light,
The uncreated Word, created flesh becamest!