High on Imaus’ solitary van, Which overlooked the kingdoms of the world, With stature more majestic, his stern brow In the clear light, the thunder at his feet;
In his right hand the flaming sword that waved O'er Eden's gate; and in his left the trump, That on the day of doom shall sound and wake Earth's myriads, starting from the wormy grave,
The great archangel stood: and, hark, his voice! It comes, it comes, o'er cities, temples, towers; O'er mountain heights I see the deluge sweep; Heard ye from earth the cry at that last hour?
Heard ye the tossing of the desert deep? How dismal is its roar! I heard the sound of multitudes no more. Great Lord of heaven and earth, thy voice is fate;
Thou canst destroy, as first thou didst create! He stood and sounded the archangel's trump; And now a choir of seraphim drew near, By Raphael led: in sad and solemn strains,
They raised their supplication to Heaven's throne. O Thou whose mighty voice, “Let there be light!” Dread Chaos heard, when the great sun from night Burst forth, and demon shadows fled away,
And the green earth sprang beautiful to day! Oh! merciful in judgment, hear our prayer; Behold the world which Thou hast made so fair, And man the mourner, man the sinner, spare.
Oh! what a change have sin and sorrow made! In the beginning, God created heaven And earth; and man, amid the works of God, Majestic stood, his noblest creature, formed
In God's own image; and his fair abode Was visited by seraph shapes of light, And sin and death were not. Mourn, mourn, ye bowers
Of paradise, ye pleasant hills and woods! Mourn; for the dreadful voice hath passed that shrunk Your streams, and withered all your blooming flowers. And thou, created in God's image, man!
Go forth into the nether world; “for dust Thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”
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