Ix

Open for me the gates of delight, The gates of the garden of man's desire; Where spirits touch'd by heavenly fire Have planted the trees of life.-- Their branches in beauty are spread, Their fruit divine To the nations is given for bread, And crush'd into wine.

To thee, O man, the sun his truth hath given, The moon hath whisper'd in love her silvery dreams; Night hath unlockt the starry heaven, The sea the trust of his streams: And the rapture of woodland spring Is stay'd in its flying; And Death cannot sting Its beauty undying.

Fear and Pity disentwine Their aching beams in colours fine; Pain and woe forgo their might. After darkness thy leaping sight, After dumbness thy dancing sound, After fainting thy heavenly flight, After sorrow thy pleasure crown'd: O enter the garden of thy delight, Thy solace is found.