The foaming stream from out the
With thunder roar begins to rush,-
The oak falls prostrate at the shock,
And mountain-wrecks attend the gush.
With rapturous awe, in wonder lost,
The wanderer hearkens to the sound;
From cliff to cliff he hears it tossed,
Yet knows not whither it is bound:
Tis thus that songs bright waters pour
From sources never known before.
In union with those dreaded ones
That spin lifes thread all-silently,
Who can resist the singers tones?
Who from his magic set him free?
With wand like that the gods bestow,
He guides the heaving bosoms chords,
He steeps it in the realms below,
He bears it, wondering, heavenward,
And rocks it, twixt the grave and gay,
On feelings scales that trembling sway.
As when before the startled eyes
Of some glad throng, mysteriously,
With giant-step, in spirit-guise,
Appears a wondrous deity,
Then bows each greatness of the earth
Before the stranger heaven-born,
Mute are the thoughtless sounds of mirth,
While from each face the mask is torn,
And from the truths triumphant might
Each work of falsehood takes to flight.
So from each idle burden free,
When summoned by the voice of song,
Man soars to spirit-dignity,
Receiving force divinely strong:
Among the gods is now his home,
Naught earthly ventures to approach-
All other powers must now be dumb,
No fate can on his realms encroach;
Cares gloomy wrinkles disappear,
Whilst musics charms still linger here,
As after long and hopeless yearning,
And separations bitter smart,
A child, with tears repentant burning,
Clings fondly to his mothers heart-
So to his youthful happy dwelling,
To rapture pure and free from stain,
All strange and false conceits expelling,
Song guides the wanderer back again,
In faithful Natures loving arm,
From chilling precepts to grow warm.