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[ORIGINAL.] ODE TO LIGHT,…

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[ORIGINAL.] ODE TO LIGHT, WRITTEN GUONGAB, HILL, AT SUNRISE. BY JOSEPH DOWSES, Author of The Mountain Decameron." Heaven's ;111-¡!,00d gift—soft, silent, swift. Transmitter of the siniie of God That dost Night's pall of horror lift, Whose single ray is as the rod Which made the rock-bound waters gush, Waking this instantaneous flush, From blackness and the clod Such thy most glorious beauty—such The beauty of thy glory. Surmounting heaven's blue promontory, Thy wonder-working magic touch— Who can forbear, for joy, to sing Those wonders, though no Milton's wing U pbear— 'rapt standing here, In this hushed hemisphere, Sky, earth, and ocean for thy magic ring! Hail, conquering Light throned foe of Night, Saviour of every sentient creature, Meek usher to the boundless, bright Palace of our queen-mother Nature Though unsubstantial tholt, what true Substantial blessings from thy blue Etherial presence start to view, To sense!—great Dayrcreator If ever idol with the One True God Creative, favour found, 'Twas surely yon insufferable round f Of glory, thy great parent sun, Whence thou—(like her of fabled birth, Born armed of Jove's bright brow)—to earth Leapest refulgent down, To flash aside the frown Of Night, and wake a world to life and love & mirth. For all this half-world seem to laugh At thy return, and on the black, The Solar day's funereal half, Behind to look rejoicing back. As spirits on their graves behind, At Doomsday! and the human mind Does feel thee-lotielv, blick, and blind, By night as Night! thy track Is Hope's own beautiful! Despair Itself flies scowling soon as ope Heaven's purple windows, still-unconqnered Hope Looks forth, the Mind's good angel, fair As good—and miserable men Hope against hope" itself, again; The Mind from deep dejection, Shares Nature's resurrection From darkness, rising from Despair's own den Thou dost forerun the blessing Sun Himself, expectant Man to meet; And when His work of love is done, How dost thou linger wan,—yet sweet, Yet sweeter than before, meek light! Bending o'er Earth, to soul as sight Pathetic, beautifying Night, Gilding Earth's winding sheet! Hence ancient Ignoranee believed Thee independent of the sun, And as two blessings, the stupendous one Philosophy perceives,—received; No wonder that to men of old, The burning Noon's, and Twilight's cold- The great lamp's Light of flame, And Eve's seemed not the same- That fierce as fire, this mild as pale pictorial gold, Let there be Light"—Creative Might Decreed, and (never more to die) Child of the Sun—immortal Light! Thou ope'st thy blue voluptuous eye! And from that hour, that blest decree, Sun, Moon, and Meteors, galaxy, And single star, that blessed Be!" Fulfill eternally; Worlds though unknown not unenjoyed, Through thee become as lamps to earth, Thee, animated Nature's second birth, Thee, darting down the dismal void; Great Protean angel! many a form Assuming, hearts and eyes to warm And charm, not undelightful, Still innocent, if frightful, Playing among the clouds of thunder in the storm. Whether thy ray, sleep meekly gay, On cottage roof of flowering thatch, And in its little casement play, Sweet to the home-bound men who watch Its blue smoke curling—or at fall Of night Gomes gliding, where men call For guidance-as from some black wall, With welcome sound of lifted latch, Wherejuountaina frown round men benighted Or dances round the Pole's horizon, (While chpeps the sun beneath its edge Of snow) to guide the antlered deer and sledge Or through the New World's forest-prison, Comes yellowing to recall the weary Woodman from labour lone and dreary, Home to his hut, now peeping- Or from a soft star leaping, Emerging through the night on seaman solitary. Beautiful still,—all good, no ill, There is no terror in thy nature Ev'n when the grim volcanic hill Is thy red cradle, where the crater Borobards Ihe city it benights With as ties, tilo.c- whom Fire affrights, Thy presence comforts, when it lights Their darl viiess—other nature Thine; though thy cruel parent. Fire;— Woe to the u. wellers in a Polar Dark—an eclipse not passing as the Solar- Those to whom evermore is dire Midnight—a black land everywhere- The Blind God light their souls' despair, And wake a mental sunshine there! Meanwhile, for thee, oh Light For tuis forgotten blessing, Si<ht This long salvation from eternal night- To Him be evermore thanksgiving, praise, & pray'r! Builth.

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