Why should'st thou linger there, and burn With passions like these fools of time? Unfold thy wings, their follies spurn, And soar to yon eternal clime.
Look round, my spirit! to these hills The earliest sunlight lends its ray; Morning's pure air these far heights fills, Here evening holiest steals away.
Thus when with firm-resolving breast, Though bound to earth thou liv'st on high, Shalt thou with earlier light be blest, More purely live, more calmly die.
This darkling dawn, doth it not bring Visions of former glory back? Arouse, my spirit! plume thy wing, And soar with me on holier track.
Canst thou not with unclouded eye, And fancy-rapt, the scene survey, When darkness bade its shadows fly, And earth rose glorious into day?
Canst thou not see that earth, its Spring Unfaded yet by death or crime, In freshest green, yet mellowing Into the gorgeous Autumn's prime?
Dost thou not see the eternal choir Light on each peak that wooes the sky, Fold their broad wings of golden fire, And string their seraph minstrelsy?
Then what sublimest music filled Rejoicing heaven and rising earth, When angel harps the chorus swelled, And stars hymned forth creation's birth.
See how the sun comes proudly on His glorious march! before our sight The swathing mists, their errand done, Are melting into morning light.
He tips the peak, its dark clouds fly, He walks its sides, and shades retreat; He pours his flood of radiancy On streams and lowlands at its feet.