The Task and Other Poems [53]
Shall visit earth in mercy; shall descend Propitious, in His chariot paved with love, And what His storms have blasted and defaced For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair.
Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet Not to be wronged by a mere mortal touch; Nor can the wonders it records be sung To meaner music, and not suffer loss. But when a poet, or when one like me, Happy to rove among poetic flowers, Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair, Such is the impulse and the spur he feels To give it praise proportioned to its worth, That not to attempt it, arduous as he deems The labour, were a task more arduous still.
Oh scenes surpassing fable, and yet true, Scenes of accomplished bliss! which who can see, Though but in distant prospect, and not feel His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy? Rivers of gladness water all the earth, And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field Laughs with abundance, and the land once lean, Or fertile only in its own disgrace, Exults to see its thistly curse repealed. The various seasons woven into one, And that one season an eternal spring, The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, For there is none to covet, all are full. The lion and the libbard and the bear Graze with the fearless flocks. All bask at noon Together, or all gambol in the shade Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. Antipathies are none. No foe to man Lurks in the serpent now. The mother sees, And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm, To stroke his azure neck, or to receive The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. All creatures worship man, and all mankind One Lord, one Father. Error has no place; That creeping pestilence is driven away, The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart No passion touches a discordant string, But all is harmony and love. Disease Is not. The pure and uncontaminated blood Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. One song employs all nations; and all cry, "Worthy the Lamb, for He was slain for us!" The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain-tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy, Till nation after nation taught the strain, Each rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. Behold the measure of the promise filled, See Salem built, the labour of a God! Bright as a sun the sacred city shines; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light; the glory of all lands Flows into her, unbounded is her joy And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, Nebaioth,* and the flocks of Kedar there; The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, And Saba's spicy groves pay tribute there. Praise is in all her gates. Upon her walls, And in her streets, and in her spacious courts Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there Kneels with the native of the farthest West, And AEthiopia spreads abroad the hand, And worships. Her report has travelled forth Into all lands. From every clime they come To see thy beauty and to share thy joy, O Sion! an assembly such as earth Saw never; such as heaven stoops down to see.
* Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progenitors of the Arabs, in the prophetic scripture here alluded to may be reasonably considered as representatives of the Gentiles at large.--C.
Thus heavenward all things tend. For all were once Perfect, and all must be at length restored. So God has greatly purposed; who would else In His dishonoured works Himself endure Dishonour, and be wronged without redress. Haste then, and wheel away a shattered world, Ye slow-revolving seasons! We would see (A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet) A world that does not dread and hate His laws, And suffer for its crime: would learn how fair The creature is that God pronounces good, How pleasant in itself what pleases Him. Here every drop of honey hides a sting; Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flowers, And even the joy, that haply some poor heart Derives from heaven,
Sweet is the harp of prophecy; too sweet Not to be wronged by a mere mortal touch; Nor can the wonders it records be sung To meaner music, and not suffer loss. But when a poet, or when one like me, Happy to rove among poetic flowers, Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair, Such is the impulse and the spur he feels To give it praise proportioned to its worth, That not to attempt it, arduous as he deems The labour, were a task more arduous still.
Oh scenes surpassing fable, and yet true, Scenes of accomplished bliss! which who can see, Though but in distant prospect, and not feel His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy? Rivers of gladness water all the earth, And clothe all climes with beauty; the reproach Of barrenness is past. The fruitful field Laughs with abundance, and the land once lean, Or fertile only in its own disgrace, Exults to see its thistly curse repealed. The various seasons woven into one, And that one season an eternal spring, The garden fears no blight, and needs no fence, For there is none to covet, all are full. The lion and the libbard and the bear Graze with the fearless flocks. All bask at noon Together, or all gambol in the shade Of the same grove, and drink one common stream. Antipathies are none. No foe to man Lurks in the serpent now. The mother sees, And smiles to see, her infant's playful hand Stretched forth to dally with the crested worm, To stroke his azure neck, or to receive The lambent homage of his arrowy tongue. All creatures worship man, and all mankind One Lord, one Father. Error has no place; That creeping pestilence is driven away, The breath of heaven has chased it. In the heart No passion touches a discordant string, But all is harmony and love. Disease Is not. The pure and uncontaminated blood Holds its due course, nor fears the frost of age. One song employs all nations; and all cry, "Worthy the Lamb, for He was slain for us!" The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain-tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy, Till nation after nation taught the strain, Each rolls the rapturous Hosanna round. Behold the measure of the promise filled, See Salem built, the labour of a God! Bright as a sun the sacred city shines; All kingdoms and all princes of the earth Flock to that light; the glory of all lands Flows into her, unbounded is her joy And endless her increase. Thy rams are there, Nebaioth,* and the flocks of Kedar there; The looms of Ormus, and the mines of Ind, And Saba's spicy groves pay tribute there. Praise is in all her gates. Upon her walls, And in her streets, and in her spacious courts Is heard salvation. Eastern Java there Kneels with the native of the farthest West, And AEthiopia spreads abroad the hand, And worships. Her report has travelled forth Into all lands. From every clime they come To see thy beauty and to share thy joy, O Sion! an assembly such as earth Saw never; such as heaven stoops down to see.
* Nebaioth and Kedar, the sons of Ishmael, and progenitors of the Arabs, in the prophetic scripture here alluded to may be reasonably considered as representatives of the Gentiles at large.--C.
Thus heavenward all things tend. For all were once Perfect, and all must be at length restored. So God has greatly purposed; who would else In His dishonoured works Himself endure Dishonour, and be wronged without redress. Haste then, and wheel away a shattered world, Ye slow-revolving seasons! We would see (A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet) A world that does not dread and hate His laws, And suffer for its crime: would learn how fair The creature is that God pronounces good, How pleasant in itself what pleases Him. Here every drop of honey hides a sting; Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flowers, And even the joy, that haply some poor heart Derives from heaven,