"TREMBLE, thou Earth! th' anointed poet said,
" At God's bright presence, tremble, all ye mountains,
"And all ye hillocks on the surface bound."
Then once again, ye glorious thunders roll,
The Muse with transport hears ye, once again
Convulse the solid continent, and shake,
Grand music of Omnipotence, the isles.
'Tis thy terrific voice, thou God of Power,
'Tis thy terrific voice; all Nature hears it
Awaken'd and alarm'd; she feels its force,
In every spring she feels it, every wheel,
And every movement of her vast machine.
Behold! quakes Apennine, behold! recoils
Athos, and all the hoary-headed Alps
Leap from their bases at the godlike sound.
But what is this, celestial tho' the note,
And proclamation of the reign supreme,
Compar'd with such as, for a mortal ear
Too great, amaze the incorporeal worlds?
Should ocean to his congregated waves
Call in each river, cataract, and lake,
And with the watry world down an huge rock
Fall headlong in one horrible cascade,
'Twere but the echo of the parting breeze,
When Zephyr faints upon the lily's breast,
'Twere but the ceasing of some instrument,
When the last lingering undulation
Dies on the doubting ear, if nam'd with sounds
So mighty! so stupendous! so divine!