Nature, that heard such sound, Beneath the hollow round Of Cynthia's seat[113] the airy region thrilling, Now was almost won To think her part was done, And that her reign had here its last fulfilling: She knew such harmony alone Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. At last surrounds their sight A globe of circular light, That with long beams the shame-faced night arrayed; The helméd cherubim And sworded seraphim Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displayed, Harping in loud and solemn choir, With unexpressive[114] notes to heaven's new-born heir. Such music, as 'tis said, Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung,[115] And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep. Ring out, ye crystal spheres; Once bless our human ears-- If ye have power to touch our senses so;[116] And let your silver chime Move in melodious time; And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow; And, with your ninefold harmony, Make up full consort[117] to the angelic symphony.[118] For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the age of gold; And speckled vanity Will sicken soon and die;[119] And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould; And hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. Yea, truth and justice then Will down return to men, Orbed in a rainbow; and, like glories wearing, Mercy will sit between, Throned in celestial sheen, With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering; And heaven, as at some festival, Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall. But wisest Fate says "No; This must not yet be so." The babe lies yet in smiling infancy, That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss, So both himself and us to glorify. Yet first, to those y-chained in sleep, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep, With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake: The agéd earth, aghast With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the centre shake, When, at the world's last sessiön, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne. And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is: But now begins; for from this happy day, The old dragon, under ground In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway; And, wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swinges[120] the scaly horror of his folded tail.[121]