So, rapt from every care and folly,
When spreads abroad the lofty lay,
The Human kindles to the Holy,
And into Spirit soars the Clay!
One with the Gods the Bard: before him
All things unclean and earthly fly--
Hush'd are all meaner powers, and o'er him
The dark fate swoops unharming by;
And while the Soother's magic measures flow,
Smooth'd every wrinkle on the brows of Woe!

Even as a child that, after pining
For the sweet absent mother--hears
Her voice--and, round her neck entwining
Young arms, vents all his soul in tears;--
So, by harsh custom far estranged,
Along the glad and guileless track,
To childhood's happy home, unchanged,
The swift song wafts the wanderer back--
Snatch'd from the coldness of unloving Art
To Nature's mother arms--to Nature's glowing heart!

[8] Hermes.

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