| Citation |
BPB.774.011
24-31 Jan 1774:12 (858)
THE TRIUMPH OF THE REDEEMER.
Some seraph teach my daring song to rise,
O! Let me catch the music of the skies;
Illume my breast, exalt, refine the whole,
And pour melodious numbers on my soul.
. . . [2 lines]
What anthems ring! What melting lays inspire!
What God-like angels strike the sounding lyre!
. . . [6 lines]
Blest climes, where music strikes the warbling string,
Where joy exulting spreads its airy wing,
. . . [4 lines]
To me did ev'ry finer art belong,
The richest fancy, and the sweetest song;
This heav'nly theme th' harmonious voice should raise,
Warm all my thoughts and warble in my lays.
For lo! He comes, a victor o'er the grave,
In triumph mild, exalted but to save:
In crouds th'applauding throng surround their King;
They tune their harps, and touch the finest string.
Angelic concert, musically flow
. . . [9 lines]
The list'ning zephyr, hovering while she sings,
Catch ev'ry sound, and waft it on their wings;
Th' attentive swains her moving accents hear,
That melt the heart, and harmonize the ear;
Such (while each bosom felt unbounded joys)
Such music flow'd from his transporting voice;
. . . [2 more lines]
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