Classic Poem

In the storm, in the smoke, in the fight, I come
To bring thee strength with my bugle and drum.
My name is Music, — and when the bell
Rings for the dead man, I rule the knell;
And when the wrecked mariner hears in the blast
The fog-bell sound, — it was I who passed.
The poets have told you how I, a young maid,
Came fresh from the gods to the myrtle shade,
And thence by a power divine I stole
To where the waters of Mineius roll;
Then down by Clitumnus and Arno's vale
I wandered, passionate and pale,
Until I found me at sacred Rome,
Where one of the Medici gave me a home.
Leo, great Leo, he worshipped me,
And the Vatican stairs for my foot were free;
And now I am come to your glorious land,
Give me great welcome with heart and hand.
Remember Beethoven — I gave him his art —
And Sebastian Bach and superb Mozart:
Join them in my worship; and when the swell
Of their mighty organs hath laid a spell
On every sense, and thy cares are drowned,
Hear the voices of heaven through the men heaven hath crowned.