And kindled into rapture; then broke forth With thousand, thousand songs. The green turf woke; The sea-shells hummed along the vocal shore, The busy bee, upon his honeyed flower. Osier and reed became Eolian lyres. Trees bore sweet minstrels; while rock, hill, and dell Sang to each other in a joyous round. MAN, that mysterious instrument of God, When the warm soul of new-descended power Breathed on his heart-strings, lifted up his voice, Chanting, "JEHOVAH!" Since that blessed hour, While still her home is heaven, Music has ne'er This darkened world forsaken. She delights, Though man may lose, or keep the paths of peace, To soothe, to cheer, to light and warm his heart; And lends her wings to waft it to the skies. She throws a lustre o'er Devotion's face-- Drinks off the tear from Sorrow's languid eye-- Tames wild Despair--brings Hope a brighter bloom-- Lulls Hate to rest--Love's ruffled bosom smooths; Pours honey into many a bitter cup; And often gives the black and heavy hour A downy breast and pinions tipped with light. She steals all balmy through the prisoner's grates, Making that sad one half forget their use. With holy spell she binds the exile's heart, And pours her oil upon its hidden wounds. Kings are her lovers--cottagers her loves: The hero and the pilgrim walk with her. Her voice is sweet by cradled infancy, And from the pillow of the dying saint, When a glad spirit borrows her light wings To practise for the skies, ere it unfolds Its own, and breaks its tenure to the clay. True, by man's wanderings for his tempter's lure, Music is often drawn to scenes unmeet For purity like hers; and made to bear Unhallowed burdens; or, to join in rites To turpitude in fellest places held. Yet, like the sun, whose beaming vesture, trailed O'er all things staining, still defies a stain; And is at night withdrawn, and girded up, Warm and untarnished for the morning skies-- She comes unsullied from her baser walks, Sighs at the darkness, guilt and wo of earth; Breathes Zion's air, and, warmed with heavenly fire, Mounts to her glorious home! 'T was she, who bore The first grand offering of the free, on high, When to the shore, through Egypt's solemn sea, The franchised Hebrews passed with feet dry-shod, And pæans gave to their Deliverer there. She cheered the wanderers on; and when they crossed Over old Jordan, to the strong-armed foe, Still she was with them; and her single breath Laid the proud Painim's city-walls in dust! In native light, she walked Judea's hills, And sipped the dew of Hermon from its flower Before the Sun of righteousness arose. The Prophet chose her to unseal his lips,