Urania speaks with darken'd brow:
`Thou pratest here where thou art least;
This faith has many a purer priest,
And many an abler voice than thou.
`Go down beside thy native rill,
On thy Parnassus set thy feet,
And hear thy laurel whisper sweet
About the ledges of the hill.'
And my Melpomene replies,
A touch of shame upon her cheek:
`I am not worthy ev'n to speak
Of thy prevailing mysteries;
`For I am but an earthly Muse,
And owning but a little art
To lull with song an aching heart,
And render human love his dues;
"I murmur'd, as I came along,
Of comfort clasp'd in truth reveal'd;
And loiter'd in the master's field,
And darken'd sanctities with song."
Last modified 14 February 2010