And thou from pouring skies and rolling seas That lashed the summits of the cloudy peaks, Didst save the germ of the ill-fated race, O thou to whom from sable space of air And from the mountains floating in the deep, A sign of hope restored by snowy dove Was brought; and from the ancient clouds emerging, The troubled sun upon the skies obscure Painted the bow of many beauteous hues. The rescued race returns unto the earth, Renewing evil deeds and ruthless thoughts And their pursuing terrors. To the reign Of oceans inaccessible it shows Its vengeful might, and beareth tears and grief To stars unknown and to remotest shores.
Now thee within my heart I meditate, And of thy race the generous descendants, Thou just and valourous father of the pious! I shall relate how, seated in the calm Meridian shadows of a quiet home, Beside the meads so dear unto thy flocks, Thy soul was blest by strangers from the Heavens Ethereal and disguised; and how, O son Of wise Rebecca! in the evening hour Beside the rustic well and in the vale Of Haran, cherished by the gentle shepherds In their gay leisure, love inspired thy heart For Laban's beauteous daughter: love supreme, Who to long exile and affliction long, And to the hated yoke of servitude, Made many a soul of haughty strength submit.
Once, truly once (nor with mere shadows idle Aonian song and legendary lore Delude mankind), this globe of ours benign And dear and pleasant to our race appeared, And golden was the tenour of our age. Not that with milk the fertile springs rushed forth, And from the mountains to the valleys spread; Nor with the flocks the tiger did resort In happy peace; nor with the wolves the shepherd Proceeded gaily to the crystal fount; But that our humankind lived without grief, Unconscious of the fate that o'er it hung, And of the woes impending; the sweet error, The fond delusions, and the pleasing veil Across the laws of Heaven and Nature thrown, Were all sufficient; and our quiet bark Was led into the haven of calm Hope.
Thus, in the boundless forests of the West Liveth a happy race, whom pallid Care Pursueth not, whose members are not wasted By dire disease; to whom the trees yield fruit; Abode, the caverns kind; refreshing drink, The rivulets and brooks; and as her prey Death claims them unforeseen. Alas! 'gainst our Unhallowed daring, how defenceless are The haunts of Nature wise! our dauntless fury Doth penetrate the shores and caves remote And quiet forests, teaching the despoiled Desires and sorrows which they never knew, And hunting Happiness, aghast and naked, Even to the splendours of the setting sun.