Analysis of Hymns From The French Of Lamartine
John Greenleaf Whittier 1807 (Haverhill) – 1892 (Hampton Falls)
I.
'Encore un hymne, O ma lyre
Un hymn pour le Seigneur,
Un hymne dans mon delire,
Un hymne dans mon bonheur.'
One hymn more, O my lyre!
Praise to the God above,
Of joy and life and love,
Sweeping its strings of fire!
Oh, who the speed of bird and wind
And sunbeam's glance will lend to me,
That, soaring upward, I may find
My resting-place and home in Thee?
Thou, whom my soul, midst doubt and gloom,
Adoreth with a fervent flame,--
Mysterious spirit! unto whom
Pertain nor sign nor name!
Swiftly my lyre's soft murmurs go,
Up from the cold and joyless earth,
Back to the God who bade them flow,
Whose moving spirit sent them forth.
But as for me, O God! for me,
The lowly creature of Thy will,
Lingering and sad, I sigh to Thee,
An earth-bound pilgrim still!
Was not my spirit born to shine
Where yonder stars and suns are glowing?
To breathe with them the light divine
From God's own holy altar flowing?
To be, indeed, whate'er the soul
In dreams hath thirsted for so long,--
A portion of heaven's glorious whole
Of loveliness and song?
Oh, watchers of the stars at night,
Who breathe their fire, as we the air,--
Suns, thunders, stars, and rays of light,
Oh, say, is He, the Eternal, there?
Bend there around His awful throne
The seraph's glance, the angel's knee?
Or are thy inmost depths His own,
O wild and mighty sea?
Thoughts of my soul, how swift ye go!
Swift as the eagle's glance of fire,
Or arrows from the archer's bow,
To the far aim of your desire!
Thought after thought, ye thronging rise,
Like spring-doves from the startled wood,
Bearing like them your sacrifice
Of music unto God!
And shall these thoughts of joy and love
Come back again no more to me?
Returning like the patriarch's dove
Wing-weary from the eternal sea,
To bear within my longing arms
The promise-bough of kindlier skies,
Plucked from the green, immortal palms
Which shadow Paradise?
All-moving spirit! freely forth
At Thy command the strong wind goes
Its errand to the passive earth,
Nor art can stay, nor strength oppose,
Until it folds its weary wing
Once more within the hand divine;
So, weary from its wandering,
My spirit turns to Thine!
Child of the sea, the mountain stream,
From its dark caverns, hurries on,
Ceaseless, by night and morning's beam,
By evening's star and noontide's sun,
Until at last it sinks to rest,
O'erwearied, in the waiting sea,
And moans upon its mother's breast,--
So turns my soul to Thee!
O Thou who bidst the torrent flow,
Who lendest wings unto the wind,--
Mover of all things! where art Thou?
Oh, whither shall I go to find
The secret of Thy resting-place?
Is there no holy wing for me,
That, soaring, I may search the space
Of highest heaven for Thee?
Oh, would I were as free to rise
As leaves on autumn's whirlwind borne,--
The arrowy light of sunset skies,
Or sound, or ray, or star of morn,
Which melts in heaven at twilight's close,
Or aught which soars unchecked and free
Through earth and heaven; that I might lose
Myself in finding Thee!
II.
LE CRI DE L'AME.
'Quand le souffle divin qui flotte sur le monde.'
When the breath divine is flowing,
Zephyr-like o'er all things going,
And, as the touch of viewless fingers,
Softly on my soul it lingers,
Open to a breath the lightest,
Conscious of a touch the slightest,--
As some calm, still lake, whereon
Sinks the snowy-bosomed swan,
And the glistening water-rings
Circle round her moving wings
When my upward gaze is turning
Where the stars of heaven are burning
Through the deep and dark abyss,
Flowers of midnight's wilderness,
Blowing with the evening's breath
Sweetly in their Maker's path
When the breaking day is flushing
All the east, and light is gushing
Upward through the horizon's haze,
Sheaf-like, with its thousand rays,
Spreading, until all above
Overflows with joy and love,
And below, on earth's green bosom,
All is changed to light and blossom:
When my waking fancies over
Forms of brightness flit and hover
Holy as the seraphs are,
Who by Zion's fountains wear
On their foreheads, white and broad,
'Holiness unto the Lord!'
When, inspired with rapture high,
It would seem a single sigh
Could a world of love create;
That my life could know no date,
And my eager thoughts could fill
Heaven and Earth, o'erflowing still!
Then, O Father! Thou alone,
Scheme ABBBB BCCD EFEFGHGH IJIKFLFL MNMNOPOP QRQRSFSF IDTDUXVX CFCFXUXV KWJWNMNM XYXXZFZF IETE1 F1 F U2 U2 XFXF AH X NN3 3 4 4 MY5 5 NNXXXXNN6 6 CC7 7 DDXRXXAA8 8 LL B Poetic Form Metre 1 111111 11101 11111 11111 111111 110101 110101 1011110 11011101 0111111 11010111 11010101 11111101 110101 010010101 011111 10111101 1101011 11011111 11010111 11111111 01010111 100011111 111101 11110111 110101110 11110101 111101010 11011001 0111111 0101101001 1101 11010111 111101101 11010111 111100101 11011101 011011 1111111 110101 11111111 110101110 11010101 101111010 1101111 11110101 1011110 110101 01111101 11011111 01010101 110100101 11011101 0101111 11010101 1110 11010101 11010111 11010101 11111101 01111101 11010101 11011100 110111 11010101 11110101 10110101 1101011 01111111 100101 01011101 111111 11110101 1111001 10111111 11011111 01011101 11110111 11011101 1101011 11101111 1111011 011111 11111111 11010111 11110101 110101111 10101 1 01111 1001111101 10101110 101101110 01011110 10111110 10101010 10101010 111111 101011 00100101 1010101 11101110 101110110 1010101 1011100 1010101 1001101 10101110 10101110 10100101 1111101 1001101 101101 00111110 11111010 11101010 11101010 101011 111101 111101 1001001 10101101 1110101 1011101 1111111 0110111 100111 11101011 Closest metre Iambic tetrameter Characters 4,124 Words 771 Sentences 36 Stanzas 17 Stanza Lengths 5, 4, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 8, 2, 1, 24, 12, 1 Lines Amount 129 Letters per line (avg) 25 Words per line (avg) 6 Letters per stanza (avg) 193 Words per stanza (avg) 45 Font size:Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
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"Hymns From The French Of Lamartine" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 28 May 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/22928/hymns-from-the-french-of-lamartine>.
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