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And with your ninefold harmony
131 Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.
For if such holy song,
Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold; And speckled vanity
136 Will sicken soon and die, And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould ;
And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. Yea, Truth and Justice then
141 Will down return to men, Orb'd in a rainbow ; and, like glories wearing,
Mercy will sit between
145 With radiant feet the tissued clouds down
steering; And Heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall.
But wisest Fate says No;
150 The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy
That on the bitter cross
Must redeem our loss ;
Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep 155 The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through
As on mount Sinai rang
When, at the world's last sessión, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His
And then at last our bliss
Full and perfect is,
The old Dragon under ground,
In straiter limits bound,
170 And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
The oracles are dumb ;
No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving: Apollo from his shrine
176 Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving :
No nightly trance or breathéd spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. The lonely mountains o’er
181 And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament ;
From haunted spring and dale
185 The parting Genius is with sighing sent ;
With flower-inwoven tresses torn
190 The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight
A drear and dying sound
And the chill marble seems to sweat, 195 While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.
Peor and Baalim
Forsake their temples dim,
200 Heaven's queen and mother both,
Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine ;
The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn, In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz
And sullen Moloch, fled,
205 Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue ;
In vain with cymbals' ring
They call the grisly king,
The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove, or green, Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud :
215 Nor can he be at rest
Within his sacred chest ; Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud ;
In vain with timbrell’d anthems dark The sable-stoléd sorcerers bear his worshipt ark. He feels from Juda's land
221 The dreaded infant's hand ; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn ;
Nor all the gods beside
225 Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine :
Our Babe, to show his Godhead true,
230 Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
The flocking shadows pale
Troop to the infernal jail,
235 Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved
But see, the Virgin blest
Hath laid her Babe to rest ;
240 Hath fix'd her polish'd car, Her sleeping Lord with hand-maid lamp attend
ing : And all about the courtly stable Bright-harness'd angels sit in order serviceable.
63 SONG FOR SAINT CECILIA’S DAY, 1687 From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony
This universal frame began :
Of jarring atoms lay
5 The tuneful voice was heard from high
Arise, ye more than dead !
10 From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This universal frame began :
From harmony to harmony
15 What passion cannot Music raise and quell ?
When Jubal struck the chorded shell His listening brethren stood around,
And, wondering, on their faces fell To worship that celestial sound.
20 Less than a god they thought there could not
That spoke so sweetly and so well.
The trumpet's loud clangor
25 Excites us to arms, With shrill notes of anger
And mortal alarms.
In dying notes discovers
35 Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.
Sharp violins proclaim
The sacred organ's praise ? Notes inspiring holy love,
45 Notes that wing their heavenly ways To mend the choirs above. Orpheus could lead the savage, race, And trees unrooted left their place Sequacious of the lyre :
50 But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher : When to her Organ vocal breath was given, An Angel heard, and straight appear’d
Mistaking Earth for Heaven I
As from the power of sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
To all the blest above ;