| |
| HAIL, thou most sacred venerable thing! | |
| What Muse is worthy thee to sing? | |
| Thee, from whose pregnant universal womb | |
| All things, even Light, thy rival, first did come. | |
| What dares he not attempt that sings of thee, | 5 |
| Thou first and greatest mystery? | |
| Who can the secrets of thy essence tell? | |
| Thou, like the light of God, art inaccessible. | |
| |
| Before great Love this monument did raise, | |
| This ample theatre of praise; | 10 |
| Before the folding circles of the sky | |
| Were tuned by Him who is all harmony; | |
| Before the morning stars their hymn began | |
| Before the council held for man; | |
| Before the birth of either Time or Place | 15 |
| Thou reign’st unquestioned monarch in the empty space. | |
| |
| Thy native lot thou didst to Light resign, | |
| But still half of the globe is thine. | |
| Here with a quiet, and yet awful hand, | |
| Like the best emperors, thou dost command. | 20 |
| To thee the stars above the brightness owe, | |
| And mortals their repose below. | |
| To thy protection Fear and Sorrow flee | |
| And those that weary are of light find rest in thee. | |
| |
| Though light and glory be th’ Almighty’s throne, | 25 |
| Darkness is his pavilion. | |
| From that his radiant beauty, but from thee | |
| He has his terrour and his majesty. | |
| Thus when he first proclaimed his sacred law, | |
| And would his rebel subjects awe, | 30 |
| Like princes on some great solemnity, | |
| H’ appeared in ’s robes of state and clad himself with thee. | |
| |
| The blest above do thy sweet umbrage prize, | |
| When, cloyed with light, they veil their eyes; | |
| The vision of the Deity is made | 35 |
| More sweet and beatific by thy shade. | |
| But we, poor tenants of this orb below | |
| Don’t here thy excellencies know, | |
| Till death our understandings does improve | |
| And then our wiser ghosts thy silent night-walks love. | 40 |
| |
| But thee I now admire, thee would I choose | |
| For my religion, or my Muse. | |
| ’Tis hard to tell whether thy reverend shade | |
| Has more good votaries or poets made, | |
| From thy dark caves were inspirations given, | 45 |
| And from thick groves went vows to Heaven. | |
| Hail then, thou Muse’s and devotion’s spring! | |
| ’Tis just we should adore, ’tis just we should thee sing. | |
| |
