A child beholds the clear blue skies
And thinks that azure tract is Heav'n —
A happy land, where nothing dies
No cows and sheep to slaughter driv'n,
And where those birds and lambkins go
Whose death he oft has mourned below.

The golden lakes with violet shores
Beside them how he longs to play —
To stir the sleeping flood with oars
And toss about like new-mown hay
Those cloudlets white as drifted snow
Which melt not in the sunny glow.

Up there amid the starry crowd
No hour of night he'd give to sleep
But hide behind a gilded cloud
And then start forth with sudden leap
To meet bright Luna face to face
Or find her in her hiding place.

The grave he fears is dark and cold,
How long do people tarry there?
How can they heave up all the mould
And come again into the air
To seek that winding path sublime
By which to Heav'n above they climb.

But when he hears the thunder groan
And sees the rapid lightning fly,
He speaks of Heav'n with altered tone
He could not bear to dwell on high
Where flames might rush into his face
And loud commotions shake the place.

Ev'n so our ancestors untaught
Placed in that Heav'n immortal Pow'rs
Seeing it so divinely wrought
While clouds, mists, lightning, rainbows, showers
Sun moon and stars remotely ranging
Told them of Gods bright and unchanging.

The threatening murmurs of the sky
Black shades and silence of the night
The vehement voices heard on high
When adverse winds rush forth to fight
And Heav'n with dreadful torches fired
A trembling worship once inspired.

Can turbulence and bitter strife
(So spake the old poetic sage)
Flow from the Lords of Light and Life?
O wretched men! what war ye wage
With your own peace who thus can deem
Making sad earnest of a dream.

Is he the pious man that bends
All humbly veiled before a stone?
Victims to every altar sends
And prostrate near proud temples thrown
Spreads out his palms in abject fear
Tow'rd stocks which neither see nor hear?

The Sun is glorious in his might,
Lakes, rivers, earth's unnumbered streams,
And ocean multiply his light —
Mean are our sacrificial steams,
And unglad offerings do we give
To him by whom in joy we live.

A virgin Goddess pure and mild
Of the soft moon might fancy frame
But men with sorceries have defiled
Thy beauteous image and thy name —
And thou the kindest loveliest best
Must minister to deeds unblest.

Where wert thou gliding p'rhaps unshrowded
With even a momentary veil
When Trivia's Aulic fane was crowded
With Grecian chiefs awe-stricken and pale
Who dream that favouring gales will rise
If murdered one soft virgin dies?

Clad like thyself in modest splendour
Sweet Iphianassa seeks the coast,
Nor finds at need one [?true] defender
In all that heav'n revering host:
The lovelier she — the more divine
The worthier gift for Dian's shrine.

Called from her home to marriage bands
She enters that unhallowed fane —
No bridegroom by the altar stands —
Vain are her hopes, her tremblings vain
Whom Hymen's torch, all over-bright,
Shall ne'er distress with garish light.

She sees her Father's tearless grief
While tears break forth from all around —
Her locks like Autumn's affluent sheaf
With no mere festal fillet bound —
The sword concealed with piteous care
His eyes but not her breast to spare.

Speechless she kneels nor strives in vain
Martyred without a martyr's crown —
Poor Maid! — thy Sire will cross the main
Borne by strong winds to high Renown. —
But thee no kingly Sire avails
Thou ne'er shalt view his streaming sails.

Such bad religion flows from fear —
He truly owns a pious mind
Who scans unmoved th'empyreal sphere
Nor asks what architect designed
Those temples — nor by what control
The luminous orbs their courses roll.

When Thunder traverses Heav'n's vault
He sinks not on a suppliant knee
Fear strick'n lest some unpunished fault
Has roused a [?ling'ring] deity —
Nor when high tow'r and Forest nod
Hears in the wind a blustering god.

Oft driven along the billowy regions
By vehement winds careering fast
With all their elephants and legions
Great generals tremble at the blast
And pray for softly-heaving seas
With sails full swoll'n by one kind fav'ring breeze.

In vain! — the wind unheeding raves
They sink — by sudden whirl overthrown
Engulphed between uprushing waves —
As if some Sovereign force unknown
All human things — all pow'r and state
Loved to deride and desecrate
And crush with overwhelming weight.

He with true piety is blest
Who holds at nought the lurid gleams
Of [?Tartarus?] by [ — — ] spirits possest
Nor dreads the labyrinthine streams,
(Spectres of which bring stifled sleep)
Which round that shadowy region creep —

Vain boast! this imagery of gloom
Rivers that loud lamenting roll
Their waves which sunbeams ne'er illume
Such visions tranquillize the soul
Which misery pain and toils unblest
Prefers to everlasting rest.

The feelings of our earliest years
Th'imaginings of ardent youth
Unreasoning wonder — hopes and fears
Contain dim shadows of the truth
And taught by Heav'n we still avow
That men can see but shadows now.