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  Until the God cast down his garb of clay,
  And rent in hallowing flame away
    The mortal part from the divine—­to soar
  To the empyreal air!  Behold him spring
  Blithe in the pride of the unwonted wing,
    And the dull matter that confined before
  Sinks downward, downward, downward as a dream! 
    Olympian hymns receive the escaping soul,
  And smiling Hebe, from the ambrosial stream,
    Fills for a God the bowl!

* * * * *

THE FAVOUR OF THE MOMENT.

  And so we find ourselves once more
    A ring, though varying yet serene,
  The wreaths of song we wove of yore
    Again we’ll weave as fresh and green. 
  But who the God to whom we bring
    The earliest tribute song can treasure? 
  Him, first of all the Gods, we sing
    Whose blessing to ourselves is—­pleasure! 
  For boots it on the votive shrine
    That Ceres life itself bestows
  Or liberal Bacchus gives the wine
    That through the glass in purple glows—­
  If still there come not from the heaven
    The spark that sets the hearth on flame;
  If to the soul no fire is given,
    And the sad heart remain the same? 
  Sudden as from the clouds must fall,
    As from the lap of God, our bliss—­
  And still the mightiest lord of all,
    Monarch of Time, the MOMENT is! 
  Since endless Nature first began
    Whate’er of might the mind hath wrought—­
  Whate’er of Godlike comes from Man
    Springs from one lightning-flash of thought! 
  For years the marble block awaits
    The breath of life, beneath the soil—­
  A happy thought the work creates,
    A moment’s glance rewards the toil. 
  As suns that weave from out their blaze
    The various colours round them given;
  As Iris, on her arch of rays,
    Hovers, and vanishes from heaven;
  So fair, so fleeting every prize—­
    A lightning flash that shines and fades—­
  The Moment’s brightness gilds the skies
    And round the brightness close the shades.

EXPECTATION AND FULFILMENT.

  O’er ocean with a thousand masts sails on the young man bold—­
  One boat, hard-rescued from the deep, draws into port the old!

* * * * *

TO THE PROSELYTE—­MAKER.

  “A little Earth from out the Earth, and I
    The Earth will move”—­so said the sage divine;
  Out of myself one little moment try
    Myself to take;—­succeed, and I am thine.

* * * * *

VALUE AND WORTH.

  If thou hast something, bring thy goods, a fair return be
       thine!—­
  If thou art something—­bring thy soul, and interchange with mine.

* * * * *