That deeper learning had improv'd his Taste,
Too oft by low vulgarities debased;
And better themes, in holier garb attir'd,
Had still diviner Eulogy requir'd..
Is then RELIGION, (so endear'd to me,) Alone denied the charms of Melody? To every theme must earthly harper rise, But that which lifts him nearest to the skies? My soul, aggriev'd, replies, it cannot be, For Music's self is Heaven's pure minstrelsy. What makes the bliss of yon celestial sphere, Where first-born sons of morning-time appear, In concert loud? "Tis Heaven itself, to find Truth, only truth, with Harmony combined. E'en here, on earth, on less angelic scale, Where voice hath discord, and where numbers fail, Let HEBREW Bards to list'ning mortals tell,
On sacred themes, what sounds seraphic swell!
Thy Genius, sacred Palestine! demands
The holiest homage that the heart expands.
Apart from inspiration, where can we
Such Poets find as once distinguish'd thee?
What fields of Fancy shall the gleaner cull,
Enrich'd with such "sublime and beautiful?"
See Learning, Genius, Taste, at once unite,
Whate'er the theme on which the prophets write!
Not polish'd Greece, nor proud Imperial Rome,
Can boast such "writings" as thy hallowed Tome.
We need not shrink thy splendid sons to place
Beside the proudest of the classic race;
Their loftier verse had beam'd, in rich display,
A thousand years before e'en Homer's day.
To us, perchance, is lost the flowing line,
But not the grandeur of the thought divine;
This brightens still, with undiminish'd ray,
When changeful sound has lost it's measur'd sway.
What soil Parnassian could more charms combine, 'Than nurs'd the Bards of ancient Palestine?
There Carmel's mount and holy Tabor rose,
Rich dews descended like inceptive snows;*
O'er lofty Lebanon proud cedars wav'd,
Lakes slept within, without, the ocean rav'd;
A sky, serenely soft, it's mantle threw ;
Anon, the storm, the frightful whirlwind blew.
Wells, wreath'd with vine, on Joseph's fruitful plain,†
Gardens of olive, fields of golden grain,-
Milk, such as stream'd thro' Asher's rich abode,--‡
And humming rocks whence plenteous honey flow'd;§
A Holy Place, by none but Hebrews trod,
With awful symbols of incumbent GOD,—
A land where genius might unfetter'd rise,
With high demands it's powers to signalize;—
Such charms propitious, more than Muses nine,
Might well enkindle Minstrels such as thine.
Saved from the swellings of the fruitful Nile,— Carest and taught in Egypt's regal smile,—
*Ps. cxxxiii. 2, † Gen. xlix. 22. ‡ Gen. xlix. 20. § Prov. lxxxi. 16.
Then forc'd the flock of Midian's priest to feed,
Till sent of GOD his chosen tribes to lead,
The reverend MOSES, rapt on "holy ground,"
To Hebrew accents gave melodious sound.
Hark! on the margin of that fruitless shore,
His "SONG" triumphant, Israel's legions pour!
The flood had closed on Egypt's impious band-
Chariots and horsemen, floating, reach'd the strand-
Then rose to Heaven, the exulting hosts among,
The first "TE DEUM" of the Hebrew tongue.
Mysterious JOB, with rich description shows
How awful visions of still midnight rose;*
Tells Heaven's remonstrance with short-sighted man,
Who dares His secret purposes to scan:
Himself, exemplifies the worst estate
Hell could inflict, or earth commiserate; †
And
proves, how justly, to the child of tears,
His greatest blessing is the rod he fears.‡
*Job iv. 13-17. ↑ Job, chap. i. ii. and iii. ‡ Job, passim.
With heart in heaven, and with adoring eye,
Fixt on the glories of the spangled sky,-*
*
In cedar'd closet, far from human gaze,-
With joy, exultant, in the courts of praise,-†
Or, banish'd far from Judah's rightful throne,
From Temple distant-exiled—and alone,
The lyre of DAVID sounds. And, still, the song
Consoles the pilgrim of the Christian throng;
The heart, o'erwhelm'd in anxious doubts and fears,
With faith supports, with holy comfort cheers ;
Still, to thy lyre, melodious Minstrel- King !
In every church a thousand voices sing.
In THY great SON, the wisest of mankind,
(Whate'er the subject of his soNG design'd,)
Luxuriant fancy's efflorescent tide
Flows sweetly on by matchless wisdom's side.
ISAIAH sings:-the desert hears his voice, The barren wastes of wilderness rejoice,
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