Thou, dear enthusiast, sayest,1
None can like nature preach ;2
That in her fane thou prayest ;3
That woods and rills can teach :4
Yes, more than e’er Ilyssus5
Taught sages by his stream ;6
Or groves beside Cephissus,7
That waved o’er Plato’s dream.8
Then leave these vales below thee ;9
Come, stretch thine eagle eye,10
And nature more will shew thee11
Of him thou canst not spy.12
Gaze on the fire-stream, pouring13
Down Etna’s viny steep ;14
Go where the billow’s roaring15
Is loudest on the deep.16
Where earthquakes mutter deadly,17
And domes and turrets reel ;18
Where camel-bells pause dreadly,19
Quench’d in the hot Samiel ;20
Where thunders roll before him,21
And where his lightnings shine,22
Bow, tremble, and adore him ;23
For this—this God is thine.24
Yet see, through clouds storm-broken,25
The dove-borne olive bough !26
Take thou, and bind that token27
Around thine awe-struck brow.28
Then where his bow he spreadeth,29
Behold him dark no more ;30
Him, who the wild waves treadeth,31
Seek now on yon green shore.32
Around his footsteps springing,33
What wreaths embalm the air !34
While hills break forth in singing,35
Go, trace those footsteps there :36
When morn’s first beam from slumbers37
Awakes the dewy flowers ;38
Or with that bird whose numbers39
Charm starry midnight hours.40
To Him let rapture wing thee,41
From heights where eagles dwell ;42
Or let the glad bee bring thee43
Home to her thymy cell.44
Where’er thou wilt, observe him45
In things that fairest shine ;46
Then, joyful, fly to serve him,47
For He—that God—is thine.”48