|[The first sings and plays the cithern.]|
O CLIFFS and rocks! O thorny woods! O shore!
| O hills and dales! O valleys, rivers, seas!|
| How do your new-discovered beauties please?|
| O Nymph, tis yours the guerdon rare,|
| If now the open skies shine fair;|| 5|
| O happy wanderings, well spent and oer!|
|[The second sings and plays to his mandolin.]|
O happy wanderings, well spent and oer!
| Say then, O Circe, these heroic tears,|
| These griefs, endured through tedious months and years,|
| Were as a grace divine bestowed|| 10|
| If now our weary travail is no more.|
|[The third sings and plays to his lyre.]|
If now our weary travail is no more!
| If this sweet haven be our destined rest,|
| Then naught remains but to be blest,|
| To thank our God for all his gifts,|| 15|
| Who from our eyes the veil uplifts,|
| Where shines the light upon the heavenly shore.|
|[The fourth sings to the viol.]|
Where shines the light upon the heavenly shore!
| O blindness, dearer far than others sight!|
| O sweeter grief than earths most sweet delight!|| 20|
| For ye have led the erring soul|
| By gradual steps to this fair goal,|
| And through the darkness into light we soar.|
|[The fifth sings to a Spanish timbrel.]|
And through the darkness into light we soar!
| To full fruition all high thought is brought,|| 25|
| With such brave patience that evn we|
| At least the only path can see,|
| And in his noblest work our God adore.|
|[The sixth sings to a lute.]|
And in his noblest work our God adore!
| God doth not will joy should to joy succeed,|| 30|
| Nor ill shall be of other ill the seed;|
| But in his hand the wheel of fate|
| Turns, now depressed and now elate,|
| Evolving day from night for evermore.|
|[The seventh sings to the Irish harp.]|
Evolving day from night for evermore!
| And as yon robe of glorious nightly fire|
| Pales when the morning beams to noon aspire,|
| Thus He who rules with law eternal,|
| Creating order fair diurnal,|
| Casts down the proud and doth exalt the poor.|| 40|
|[The eighth plays with a viol and bow.]|
Casts down the proud and doth exalt the poor!
| And with an equal hand maintains|
| The boundless worlds which He sustains,|
| And scatters all our finite sense|
| At thought of His omnipotence,|| 45|
| Clouded awhile, to be revealed once more.|
|[The ninth plays upon the rebeck.]|
Clouded awhile, to be revealed once more!
| Thus neither doubt nor fear avails;|
| Oer all the incomparable End prevails,|
| Oer fair champaign and mountain,|| 50|
| Oer river-brink and fountain,|
| And oer the shocks of seas and perils of the shore.|