See how, like lightest waves at play, the
airy dancers fleet;
And scarcely feels the floor the wings of those harmonious
feet.
Ob, are they flying shadows from their native
forms set free?
Or phantoms in the fairy ring that summer moonbeams
see?
As, by the gentle zephyr blown, some light mist flees
in air,
As skiffs that skim adown the tide, when silver waves
are fair,
So sports the docile footstep to the heave of that
sweet measure,
As music wafts the form aloft at its melodious pleasure,
Now breaking through the woven chain of the entangled
dance,
From where the ranks the thickest press, a bolder
pair advance,
The path they leave behind them lost-wide
open the path beyond,
The way unfolds or closes up as by a magic wand.
See now, they vanish from the gaze in wild confusion
blended;
All, in sweet chaos whirled again, that gentle world
is ended!
No!-disentangled glides the knot, the
gay disorder ranges-
The only system ruling here, a grace that ever changes.
For ay destroyed-for ay renewed, whirls
on that fair creation;
And yet one peaceful law can still pervade in each
mutation.
And what can to the reeling maze breathe harmony
and vigor,
And give an order and repose to every gliding figure?
That each a ruler to himself doth but himself obey,
Yet through the hurrying course still keeps his own
appointed way.
What, wouldst thou know? It is in truth
the mighty power of tune,
A power that every step obeys, as tides obey the
moon;
That threadeth with a golden clue the intricate employment,
Curbs bounding strength to tranquil grace, and tames
the wild enjoyment.
And comes the worlds wide harmony in vain
upon thine ears?
The stream of music borne aloft from yonder choral
spheres?
And feelst thou not the measure which eternal
Nature keeps?
The whirling dance forever held in yonder azure deeps?
The suns that wheel in varying maze?-That
music thou discernest?
No! Thou canst honor that in sport which thou
forgettest in earnest.
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