THE ANGEL OF ART.

Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1554, 27 February 1874, Page 129

THE ANGEL OF ART.

When from the sdtred garden driven, Man fled before his Maker’s wrath, An angel left her place in heaven, And crossed the wanderer’s sunless path, Twas Art! sweet Art! New radiance broke Where her light foot flew o’er the ground . And thus with seraph voice she spoke : “ The curse a blessing shall be found.” She led him through the trackless wild, Where noontide sunbeam never blazed : The thistle shrank —the harvest smiled, And Nature gladeued as she gazed, Earth’s thousand tribes of living things At Art’s command to him are given, The village grows, the city springs, And point their spires of faith to heaven. He rends the oak —and bids it ride, To guard the shores its beauty graced ; He smites the rock —upheaved in pride, See towers of strength and domes of taste. Earth’s teeming caves their wealth reveal, Fire bears his banners on the wave, . He bids the mortal poison heal, And the destroying knife to save. He plucks the pearls that stud the deep, Admiring Beauty’s lap to fill, He breaks the stubborn marble’s sleep, Hooks disappear before his skill ; With thoughts that swell his glowing soul. He bids the ore illume the page, And proudly scorning Time’s control, Commerces with an unborn age. In fields of air ho writes his name, And treads the chambers of the sky ; He reads the stars and grasps the flame That quivers in the realms on high. In war renowned, in peace sublime, He moves in greatness and in grace : His power, subduing space and time, Links realm to realm, and race to race,