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COME, THOU BRIGHT SPIRIT OF THE SKIES, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
Last Line: Shrieking in wrath, not fear?
Alternate Author Name(s): Brown, Isaac


Come, thou bright spirit of the skies,
With witching harp or potent lyre,
And bid those magic notes arise
That kindle souls, and tip with fire
The prophet's lips. Begin the strain,
That like the trumpet's stirring sound
Makes the lone heart to bound
From death-like lethargy to life again,
Bracing the slackened nerve and limb,
And calling from the eye, all sunk and dim,
Unwonted fire and noble daring;
Or wake that soothing melody
That stills the tumults of the heart despairing,
With all its many murmurings small,
Of soft and liquid sounds that be
Like to the music of a water-fall,
Heard from the farthest depths of some green wood,
In quiet moon-lit night, that stills the mood
Of painful thought, and fills the soul
With pleasant musings, such as childhood knows
When basking on some greenwood shady knoll,
And weaving garlands with the drooping boughs.
Or dost thou sing of woman ''" of the eye
That pierces through the heart, and wrays
Its own fond secrets by a sympathy
That scorns slow words and idle phrase?
Or of the lips that utter wondrous love,
And yet do scarcely move
Their ruby portals to emit a sound,
Or syllable a name, but round and round
Irradiate themselves with pensive smiles?
Or of the bosom, stranger to the wiles
And thoughts of worthless worldlings, which doth swell
With soft emotion underneath its cover,
And speaks unto the keen-eyed conscious lover
Thoughts, feelings, sympathies, tongue ne'er could tell?
Sing'st thou of arms ''" of glory in the field ''"
Where patriots meet in death's embrace,
To reap high honours where the clanging shield
And gleaming spear ''" the swayful ponderous mace,
And the shrill trumpet rings aloud its peal
Of martial music furious and strong;
Where ardent souls together throng
And struggle in the press of griding steel,
And fearful shout and battle cry,
Herald the quivering spirit's sigh,
That leaves the strife in agony,
And as it fleets away, still throws
Its stern defiance on its conquering foes,
Shrieking in wrath, not fear?





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