Ah! Who the Artist,—Whose the skilful hand
Impels the beams which fructify the land?
’Tis He, ’tis His, who governs earth and air,
Who pois’d the sun, the moon, and every star,
And who directs them morning, noon, and night,
Yea, ever since He said: and gave the light!
The painter imitates with studied stroke
The ruffled ocean, or the stirring brook;
But where the roarings of the troubled main
So well defined upon the painted plain?