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Poetry Library

— John Milton

Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 15

Afford a present to the Infant God?

Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,

To welcome him to this his new abode,

…

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AT A SOLEMN MUSIC.

28 lines
John Milton·1608–1674
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lest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse,Wed your divine sounds, and mixed power employ,Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce;And to our high-raised phantasy present 5That undisturbed song of pure concent,Aye sung before the sapphire-colored throneTo Him that sits thereon,With saintly shout and solemn jubilee;Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 10Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow,And the Cherubic host in thousand quiresTouch their immortal harps of golden wires,With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms,Hymns devout and holy psalms 15Singing everlastingly:That we on Earth, with undiscording voice,May rightly answer that melodious noise;As once we did, till disproportioned sinJarred against nature's chime, and with harsh din 20Broke the fair music that all creatures madeTo their great Lord, whose love their motion swayedIn perfect diapason, whilst they stoodIn first obedience, and their state of good.O, may we soon again renew that song, 25And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere longTo his celestial consort us unite,To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light!
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