A glorious gush of music roll’d
Around those wretched spirits there;—
They started up with frantic eyes
Wild-glancing to their sullen skies:
And still the angel-anthem went
Rejoicing ’round that firmament;
And shining harps were sparkling through
The cloud-rifts—held by seraph-forms
Oh! lovely as the loveliest hue
Of rainbows curled on buried storms.