Excerpt
ENTHUSIASM. Oh for the spirit which inspired of oldThe seer's prophetic song—the voice that spakeThrough Israel's warrior king. The strains that burstIn thrilling tones from Zion's heaven-strung harp,Float down the tide of ages, shedding lightOn pagan shores and nations far remote:Eternal as the God they celebrate,Their fame shall last when Time's long race is run,And you refulgent eye of this fair world,—Its light and centre,—into darkness shrinks,Eclipsed for ever by the glance of HimWhose rising sheds abroad eternal day.Almighty, uncreated Source of life!To Thee I dedicate my soul and song;In humble adoration bending lowBefore thy footstool. Thou alone canst stampA lasting glory on the works of man,Tuning the shepherd's reed, or monarch's harp,To sounds harmonious. ImmortalityExists alone in Thee. The proudest strainThat ever fired the poet's soul, or drewMelodious breathings from his gifted lyre,Unsanctioned by thy smile, shall die awayLike the faint sound which the soft summer breezeWins from the stately lily's silver bells;A passing murmur, a half-whispered sigh,Heard for a moment in the deep reposeOf Nature's midnight rest—then hushed for ever!Parent of genius, bright Enthusiasm!Bold nurse of high resolve and generous thought,'Tis to thy soul-awakening power we oweThe preacher's eloquence, the painter's skill,The poet's lay, the patriot's noble zeal,The warrior's courage, and the sage's lore.Oh! till the soul is quickened by thy breath,Wit, wisdom, eloquence, and beauty, failTo make a just impression on the heart;The tide of life creeps lazily along,Soiled with the stains of earth, and man debasedSinks far below the level of the stream.Alas! that thy bright flame should be confinedTo passion's maddening vortex; and the soulWaste all its glorious energies on earth!—The world allows its votaries to feelA glowing ardour, an intense delight,On every subject but the one that liftsThe soul above its sensual, vain pursuits,And elevates the mind and thoughts to God!Zeal in a sacred cause alone is deemedAn aberration of our mental powers.The sons of pleasure cannot bear that lightOf heavenly birth which penetrates the soulsOf men, who, deeply conscious of their guilt,Mourn o'er their lost, degraded state, and seek,Through faith in Christ's atonement, to regainThe glorious liberty of sons of God!Who, as redeemed, account it their chief joyTo praise and celebrate the wondrous loveThat called them out of darkness into light,—Severed the chain which bound them to the dust,Unclosed the silent portals of the grave,And gave Hope wings to soar again to heaven!— Oh, thou bright spirit, of whose power I sing,Electric, deathless energy of mind,Harp of the soul, by genius swept, awake!Inspire my strains, and aid me to portrayThe base and joyless vanities which manMadly prefers to everlasting bliss!—Come! let us mount gay Fancy's rapid car,And trace through forest and o'er mountain rudeThe bounding footsteps of the youthful bard,Yet new to life—a stranger to the woesHis harp is doomed to mourn in plaintive tones.His ardent unsophisticated mind,On all things beautiful, delighted, dwells.Earth is to him a paradise. No cloudFloats o'er the golden promise of the morn.Hope daily weaves fresh roses for his brow,Shrouding the grim and ghastly phantom, Death,Beneath her soft and rainbow-tinted wings.Ere Care has tainted with her poisonous breathLife's opening buds, all objects wear to himA lovely aspect, and he peoples spaceWith creatures of his own....