Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/142

142 Were fading into air.—Pure, white-wing'd forms Flock'd round me, and with gentle art essay'd To lure my upward flight, where harmony Came softly breathing like some dulcet lute From domes of pearl.—Methought they marshall'd me Up to heaven's gate.—But on a poising cloud Midway I hung.—So much the grosser weight Of these corporeal elements prevail'd, I might not rise;—and yet so sweet they sang "Come hither!"—that by melody enchain'd I could not backward turn.—My bright abode Glittering with amber and with crimson, seem'd Pavilion for some God.—Serene I lay As on a couch impalpable,—o'erarch'd With drapery brighter than Aurora's ray, Which every moment changed.—Anon it sail'd Deliciously,—as on some waveless sea Which ask'd nor sail nor oar.—Each star breathed forth Mysterious melody,—as on it toil'd To do the Eternal's bidding, and fulfil Its measured voyage.—There our orb revolved.— Now stain'd with blood and now with sunbeams gay, Here heap'd with hecatombs and there with fruits Of joyous harvest.—To the loftier eye Of some archangel traveller, whose broad wing Circles the empyrean, it might seem A dull, dim speck,—where crawling emmets toil To treasure dust.—But as I gazed intent, Black whizzing pinions, with hoarse words swept by, As if the rude blast shaped itself a voice, —"What doth this mortal here?"—And then I saw A mighty seraph with a flaming trump Descend majestic.—Toward our globe he sped,