is that ascent 520
The Muse has gain'd, review the paths she trod;
Various, extensive, beaten but by view;
And, conscious of her prudence in repose,
Pause; and with pleasure meditate an end,
Though still remote; so fruitful is my theme.
Through many a field of moral, and divine, 526
The Muse has stray'd; and much of sorrow seen
In human ways; and much of false and vain;
Which none, who travel this bad road, can miss.
O'er friends deceased full heartily she wept;
Of love divine the wonders she display'd;
Proved man immortal; show'd the source of joy
The grand tribunal raised; assign'd the bounds
Of human grief: in few, to close the whole,
The moral Muse has shadow'd out a sketch,
Though not in form, nor with a Raphael-stroke,
Of most our weakness needs believe, or do,
In this our land of travel, and of hope,
For peace on earth, or prospect of the skies. 539
What then remains? much! much! a mighty debt
To be discharged: these thoughts, O Night! are thine;
From thee they came, like lovers' secret sighs,
While others slept. So, Cynthia (poets feign),
In shadows veil'd, soft-sliding from her sphere,
Her shepherd cheer'd; of her enamour'd less,
Than I of thee.--And art thou still unsung,
Beneath whose brow, and by whose aid, I sing?
Immortal silence! where shall I begin?
Where end? or how steal music from the spheres,
To soothe their goddess? 550
O majestic Night!
Nature's great ancestor! Day's elder-born!
And fated to survive the transient sun!
By mortals, and immortals, seen with awe!
A starry crown thy raven brow adorns,
An azure zone thy waist; clouds, in heaven's loom
Wrought through varieties of shape and shade,
In ample folds of drapery divine,
Thy flowing mantle form; and, heaven throughout,
Voluminously pour thy pompous train. 560
Thy gloomy grandeurs (nature's most august,
Inspiring aspect!) claim a grateful verse;
And, like a sable curtain starr'd with gold,
Drawn o'er my labours past, shall close the scene.
And what, O man! so worthy to be sung?
What more prepares us for the songs of heaven?
Creation, of archangels is the theme!
What, to be sung, so needful? What so well
Celestial joys prepare us to sustain?
The soul of man, His face design'd