The foaming stream from out the
rock
With thunder roar begins to
rush,-
The oak falls prostrate at the shock,
And mountain-wrecks attend
the gush.
With rapturous awe, in wonder lost,
The wanderer hearkens to the
sound;
From cliff to cliff he hears it
tossed,
Yet knows not whither it is
bound:
Tis thus that songs
bright waters pour
From sources never known before.
In union with those dreaded ones
That spin lifes thread
all-silently,
Who can resist the singers
tones?
Who from his magic set him
free?
With wand like that the gods bestow,
He guides the heaving bosoms
chords,
He steeps it in the realms below,
He bears it, wondering, heavenward,
And rocks it, twixt the grave
and gay,
On feelings scales that trembling
sway.
As when before the startled eyes
Of some glad throng, mysteriously,
With giant-step, in spirit-guise,
Appears a wondrous deity,
Then bows each greatness of the
earth
Before the stranger heaven-born,
Mute are the thoughtless sounds
of mirth,
While from each face the mask
is torn,
And from the truths triumphant
might
Each work of falsehood takes to
flight.
So from each idle burden free,
When summoned by the voice
of song,
Man soars to spirit-dignity,
Receiving force divinely strong:
Among the gods is now his home,
Naught earthly ventures to
approach-
All other powers must now be dumb,
No fate can on his realms
encroach;
Cares gloomy wrinkles disappear,
Whilst musics charms still
linger here,
As after long and hopeless yearning,
And separations bitter
smart,
A child, with tears repentant burning,
Clings fondly to his mothers
heart-
So to his youthful happy dwelling,
To rapture pure and free from
stain,
All strange and false conceits expelling,
Song guides the wanderer back
again,
In faithful Natures loving
arm,
From chilling precepts to grow warm.
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