ABT VOGLER.

1.

WOULD that the structure brave, the manifold music I

build,

Bidding my organ obey, calling its keys to their work, Claiming each slave of the sound, at a touch, as when Solomon willed

Armies of angels that soar, legions of demons that lurk, Man, brute, reptile, fly, - alien of end and of aim,

Adverse, each from the other heaven-high, hell-deep removed,

Should rush into sight at once as he named the ineffable Name,

And pile him a palace straight, to pleasure the princess

he loved!

2.

Would it might tarry like his, the beautiful building of

mine,

This which my keys in a crowd pressed and impor

tuned to raise !

Ah, one and all, how they helped, would dispart now and

now combine,

Zealous to hasten the work, heighten their master his

praise !

And one would bury his brow with a blind plunge down to hell,

Burrow awhile and build, broad on the roots of things, Then up again swim into sight, having based me my palace well,

Founded it, fearless of flame, flat on the nether springs.

3.

And another would mount and march, like the excellent minion he was,

Ay, another and yet another, one crowd but with many

a crest,

Raising my rampired walls of gold as transparent as glass,

Eager to do and die, yield each his place to the rest: For higher still and higher, as a runner tips with fire

When a great illumination surprises a festal night— Outlining round and round Rome's dome from space to spire,

Up, the pinnacled glory reached, and the pride of my soul was in sight.

4.

In sight? Not half! for it seemed, it was certain, to match man's birth,

Nature in turn conceived, obeying an impulse as I;

And the emulous heaven yearned down, made effort to reach the earth,

As the earth had done her best, in my passion, to scale

the sky:

Novel splendors burst forth, grew familiar, and dwelt with mine,

Not a point nor peak but found and fixed its wander

ing star;

Meteor-moons, balls of blaze: and they did not pale nor

pine,

For earth had attained to heaven, there was no more near nor far.

5.

Nay, more; for there wanted not who walked in the glare and glow,

Presences plain in the place; or, fresh from the Pro

toplast,

Furnished for ages to come, when a kindlier wind should

blow,

Lured now to begin and live, in a house to their liking

at last;

Or else the wonderful Dead who have passed through the

body and gone,

But were back once more to breathe in an old world

worth their new:

What never had been, was now; what was, as it shall be

anon;

And what is,- shall I say, matched both? for I was

made perfect too.

6.

All through my keys that gave their sounds to a wish of my soul,

All through my soul that praised as its wish flowed

visibly forth,

All through music and me! For think, had I painted the whole,

Why, there it had stood, to see, nor the process so

wonder-worth:

Had I written the same, made verse still, effect pro

ceeds from cause,

Ye know why the forms are fair, ye hear how the tale

is told;

It is all triumphant art, but art in obedience to laws,

Painter and poet are proud in the artist-list en

rolled :

7.

But here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that

can,

Existent behind all laws, that made them, and, lo, they

are!

And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to

man,

That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound,

but a star.

Consider it well: each tone of our scale in itself is

naught;

It is everywhere in the world, loud, soft, and all is

said:

Give it to me to use! I mix it with two in my thought; And, there! Ye have heard and seen: consider and

bow the head!

8.

Well, it is gone at last, the palace of music I reared; Gone! and the good tears start, the praises that come

too slow;

For one is assured at first, one scarce can say that he

feared,

That he even gave it a thought, the gone thing was

to go.