Classic Poem

Thanks it is to holy love
That the Gods are blessed above;
Thanks to love it is mankind
Near the Gods a place can find.
Heaven becomes more heavenly still,
Earth acquires a heavenly thrill.

Near Pyrrha in the days of yore
(So all the poets sang)
From crags and stones the world did soar,
Man from the bed-rock sprang.

Their hearts were formed of rock and stone,
Their souls were dark as night,
For on them never yet had shone
The heavenly torch of light.

Not yet they knew the rosy chain
With which the Loves delight to rein
Souls in ethereal rings;
Not yet their bosoms had been stirred
By the harmonious murmur heard
When Muses touch the strings.

Their brows no chaplets then caressed,
No wreaths their temples wound;
Sadly the Spring-times onward pressed,
To bright Elysium bound.

Ungreeted then Aurora rose
From the illumined main,
And, unsaluted, its repose
The setting sun would gain.

Untaught, man wandered in the grove,
And, bound in yoke of iron, strove
'Neath Luna's sickly rays.
None hankered for the starry spheres,
And no relief was sought in tears,
None yearned the Gods to praise.

But, from the deep which tranquil lies,
See Heaven's very daughter rise,
And carried by the gentle hand
Of Naiads to th' ecstatic strand!

The atmosphere of merry May
Sweeps by, as floats the dawning ray,
And hails that glorious creature's birth
In air and ocean, heaven and earth.

The sparkling glance of day invades
And smiles into the forest glades;
Narcissus, delicate and sweet,
Blooms languorous beneath her feet.

The nightingale attunes his note
A tale of love to sing,
And love-inspiring murmurs float
From yonder babbling spring.

Pygmalion, how happy thou
With life the marble to endow!
Victorious God of love, draw near,
Embrace thy pious children here!

Thanks it is to holy Love
That the Gods are blessed above;
Thanks to Love it is mankind
Near the Gods a place can find.
Heaven becomes more heavenly still,
Earth acquires a heavenly thrill.

Quaffing nectar's golden stream,
Nursing some voluptuous dream,
Feasting in convivial joy—
Thus the Gods their days employ.

All Olympus trembles, prone,
When from his exalted throne
Cronos' son the lightning hurls,
Tossing wild his awful curls.

Yet he left his throne above,
'Midst the sons of earth to move,
And in worldly thickets wept;
The thunders coiled betwixt his feet,
And, coaxed by Leda's kisses sweet,
The Giant-killer slept.

Phœbus his majestic team
Where the day's broad flashes gleam
Drives with golden rein.
His rattling harness spreads affright,
His flaming, heaven-born steeds are white.
Yet all this clattering train
Gladly would he cast aside,
Harmony and Love his guide.

Before the Lord of Heaven's Queen
The very Gods abase their mien;
Before her chariot's proud array
The peacock pair their plumes display,
And with a victor's crown compare
The glories of her fragrant hair.

Fair Princess! trembles even Love
As he approaches the alcove
Wherein thy glory shines.
And yet the Queen will leave her throne
And humbly beg th' entrancing zone
Which heart with heart entwines.

Thanks it is to holy Love
That the Gods are blessed above;
Thanks to Love it is mankind
Near the Gods a place can find.
Heaven becomes more heavenly still,
Earth acquires a heavenly thrill.

Love drives the powers of night away,
And even Orcus must obey
His sweet and magic spell.
The dismal king his wrath conceals
When his Proserpina appeals—
Night's terrors love can quell.

In hell thy heavenly Thracian strains
Around the gaoler wove their chains.
Minos himself with softened eyes
A milder torment did devise;
In dark Megæra's angry hair
Less icy was the viper's stare.

Whips cracked no more, and Orpheus' lyre
Coaxed Tityus' vulture to retire;
Dark Lethe and Cocytus dim
Swished gentler past with flowing brim,
Listening as they rolled along,
Thracian, to thy love-lorn song!

Thanks it is to holy Love
That the Gods are blessed above;
Thanks to Love it is mankind
Near the Gods a place can find.
Heaven becomes more heavenly still,
Earth acquires a heavenly thrill.

Wherever Nature holds her sway
Love's fragrant blooms their trace betray,
There float her pinions still.
Ah! But that Aphrodite's glance
Now beckons through yon moon-beam dance,
Now from the sun-capped hill;
Did not the smiling Goddess bend
From starry heights support to lend;
Nor sun nor moon nor starry light
My cautious spirit could excite.
Smiling love alone can lie
Mirrored, Nature, in thine eye.

Love inspires the silver rills,
Bids them purl with more restraint,
And a very soul instils
In the nightingale's complaint.
'Tis Love, and ever Love, who plays
On Nature's lute in Nature's praise.

Wisdom, even thou must yield
When my Goddess takes the field,
Conquering even thee!
Though victor never yet has seen,
Nor potentate, thy suppliant mien,
To Love now bend the knee.

Who taught thee the sublime ascent
Up to the starry firmament
Where sit the Gods in state?
Who tore the sacred veil away
And showed thee where Elysium lay
Beyond Death's narrow gate?

Should Love her guiding charm deny,
Where were our immortality?
And could our senses seek and find,
Without her aid, the master-mind?
Love can lead—and only Love—
Souls to Nature's home above.

Thanks it is to holy Love
That the Gods are blessed above;
Thanks to Love it is mankind
Near the Gods a place can find.
Heaven becomes more heavenly still,
Earth acquires a heavenly thrill.