Hymn to the Patriarchs

And you the song of unrejoicing sons,
Ye lofty fathers of the human race,
Shall celebrate with praise; ye far more dear
Unto the eternal Ruler of the stars,
And much less sorrowing brought unto the light
Sublime than we. Not piety and not
The laws of Heaven imposed the unceasing ills
That now afflict mankind, for sorrow born,
And destined to discover greater joy
In the nocturnal shadows of the tomb
Than in the radiance of the orb of day.
And if an ancient legend still doth tell
The story of your ancient error dire
That yielded man unto the tyranny
Of suffering and grief; the guilt more fell,
The more unquiet minds and frenzy fierce
Of your descendants made the injured skies
And Nature, in return for all her cares
Spumed and neglected, feel indignant wrath:
From which the fire of life a curse received,
And mothers trembled at the load they bore,
And Hell itself was imaged on the earth.

Thou first, O father of the human race,
Didst see the sparkling of revolving spheres,
The new-born generations of the fields,
The breezes roving o'er the infant trees,
When towering rocks and yet unpeopled vales
Heard for the first time Alpine fury sound
Of rushing torrents; when unconscious Peace
Reigned o'er the destined regions of renowned
Nations and cities full of strife and noise;
And when upon uncultivated hills
Silent and lonely did the radiance shine
Of sun and moon. Oh happy then, ignoring
Events disastrous and the name of guilt,
The vast abode of earth! Oh, how much grief
Unto thy race, thou Father full of sorrow!
How long a series of most bitter deeds
The Fates prepare! The soil, behold! is stained
With deepest crimson of a brother's blood,
By brother shed, and o'er the sky divine
The wings of Death their evil shadow throw.
The fratricide with horror taketh flight,
Shunning the lonely dimness of the shades
And secret wrath of winds in forest deep;
He is the first to build proud towns, henceforth
Domain and dwelling of Care's pallid form;
And first Remorse despairing fixeth man
In a pent-up and undelightful home.
Then from the plough the guilty hand was ta'en,
And scorn was cast on labours of the field,
And the evil halls became the home of sloth.
All minds lay languid and of strength bereft
In weary frames; and as the last and worst
Of ills, mankind by slavery was bound.

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.