State rights and democratic union. (Yazoo City, Miss.) 1839-18??, 1839-09-17
From the Blocknood's Magazine.
HY NM TO THE GODS.

From the BlocknoOd's Magazine.
HYMN TO THE GODS.
BY ALBERT pIKE-or ARKANSAS
No. Ito NEPTuNE.
God Of the mighty deep! wherever now
The waves beneath thy brazen dxles bow
Whether thy strong proud steeds. Wind.wing'd am
wild,
Trample the storm.vex'd waters round them piled,
| Swift as the lightning flashes, that reveal
| The quick ggrations of each brazen wheel;
While round and under thee, with hideous roar,
The broad Atlantic, with thy scsurging sore,
! laundering. like antique Chaos in his spaSins,
| IL heavng mountains, and defp-yawning chasms
Flnctuate endlessly; while through the gloon,
Their glossy SIDES and thick names feck'd with foam
Career thy steeds, neighing with frantic glee
| In 1erce response to the tnnutuon sea-
| Whether thy coursers n, w career below,
Where, amid storm-wrecks, hoary sea-plants grow
Broad leaved. aud tanning with ceaseess motion
The pale Geld tenants of the aby small ocean
Oh, come our affairs waiting for thee stand,
smoking with incense on the level strand:
Perhaps thou lettest now thy horses roam
Upon some quiet plan: no wind toss'd foam
Is now upon their limbs, hut leisurely
They tread with silvel feet the sleeping sea,
Tanning the waves with SLOWLY floating names
Like M st in sunlight: HAPPY, silver strains
From clamorous trumpets round thy chariot ring,
ADJ gfG6usfODf q Sed-Sous uHtO LnCcs Lnel' hIIk9
Chant loud in praise: Apollo now doh gaze
With loving looks upon thee, AMI his avs
Light up thy steeds' wild eyes: A pleasant warm
Is felt upon the sea, where fierce cold storm
fTas Iust been rushing, and the noisy winds
That Eoius now within their prison binds,
Flying With misty wings: Perhaps, below
thou hest IN green caves where bright things glow
With myriad colours-many monster cnmbers
The sand a-near thee, while old Triton slnmbeEs
A. IDLY as his wont. and bright eyes peep
Upon thee every way, as thou dost sleep.
Perhaps thou liest on some Indian isle
Under a waving tree, where many mile
Stretches sunny shore, with golden sands
Heap'd up in many shapes by Maids hands.
And, blushing as the waves come ripping on,
Shaking the sunlight from them as they run
And curl upon the heach-like molten gold
Thick set with jewellery most rare and old
And sea my mphs sit, and with small delicate shells
Make thee sweet melody, as in deep dells
We hear, of summer nights, by fairies mades
The while they dance within some quiet shade,
Sounding their silver flutes most low and sweet,
In strange but beautiful tunes, that their light feet
Nav dance upon the bright and misty dew
In better time: all wanton airs that blew
But lately over spice-trees, now are here,
Waving their wings, al! Odour-latleB, near
The bright and laughing sea- Oh, wilt thou rise
And come with them to our new sacrifice!
No. Ito Apollo.
Bright.hair'd Apollo!-Thou who ever art
A blessing to the worId-whose mighty heart
For ever pours out love, and light, and life:
Thou at whose glance all things Of earth are rife
With happiness-to whom in early spring
Bright flowers raise up their heads, whereer they
cling
On the steep mountain side, or ii the vale
Are nestled calmly. Thou at whom the pale
And weary earth looks up, when winter fees,
With patient gaze thou for whom wind.stripp'd trees
Put on fresh leaves. and drink deep OF the light
That gltters in thine eye: thou in whose bright
And hottest rays the eagle fills his eye
With qusnchless fire, and far. far up on high
Screams out his JOY to thee: By all the names
That thou dost bear-whether thy godhead claims
Phoebns or Sol, or golden-hair'd Apollo,
Cynthian Or Pythian--if thou now dost follow
The fleeing night, oh hear
Our hymn to thee, and smil1ngly draw near!
Oh most high Poet!-thou whose great hearts swell
Pours itself out on mountain and deep dell
Thou who dost touch them with thy golden feet,
And make them for poets theme most meet:
Thou who dost make the poets eye perceive
Great beauty every wherein the slow heave,
OF the unquiet sea, OF in the war
Of It's unnumbeF'd waters; on the shore
or pleasant streams, upon the Jagged GIN
OF savage mountain, where the black clouds drlit
Full Of strange lightning or upon the brow
OF silent night, that solemnly and slow
I ,omes on the earth: Oh thou! whose influence
Touches all things with beauty, makes each sense
Donby delight, tinges with thine own heart
Each thing thou meetest--th0u who ever aFt
Living in beauty-nay, who art IN truth
With earnest calling cry!
Answer our hymn, and come to US, most nign:
Oh thou! who strikest oft thy golden Tyre
In strange disguise, and with wondrous tire
Sweepest its strings upon the sunny glade,
While dances TO thee many village maid,
Decking her hair with wild-hoWers, Or wreath
OF thine own laurel, while reclined beneath
Some ancient oak, with smiles at thy good neafS
As though thou vert Of this our world Pan'
Thou lookest on them IN the darkenng wOod'
While funs come forth and with their dances Euus'
Fit round among the trees with merry leap
Like their God, Pan; and from fr thickets deep
Come up the Satys, joining the wild crew..
And capering for thy pleasure: From eacn yeNs
And oak, and beech, the Wood-nymphs OF peep ou'
To see the reveIry. while merry shout
And noisy laughter rings about the Wooas
And thv Ivre cheers the darken'd solitude
on, Gene. while we do sound
Our flutes and pIeasant-pealing Tyres arOunu'
On. most hiph prophet! --thOu that shoWest men
Deen.hidden knowIedge; thou that from e aen
pr;nrest futufs ", that il comeD by
Il v;sibe shape, passing before the eye
shrouded ia visicnG thou il whose hlgn power