Then let him choose his moment well,
With power divine its story tell."
Still we walked on, in thoughtful mood,
And now upon the bridge we stood.
Full of sweet breathings was the air,
Of sudden stirs and pauses fair.
Down o'er the stately bridge the breeze
Came rustling from the garden-trees,
And on the sparkling waters played;
Light-plashing waves an answer made,
And mimic boats their haven neared.
Beyond, the abbey-towers appeared,
By mist and chimneys unconfined,
Free to the sweep of light and wind;
While through their earth-moored nave below,
Another breath of wind doth blow,
Sound as of wandering breeze—but sound
In laws by human artists bound.
"The world of music!" I exclaimed,—
"This breeze that rustles by, that famed
Abbey, recall it! what a sphere,
Large and profound, hath genius here!
The inspired musician, what a range,
What power of passion, wealth of change!
Some source of feeling he must choose,
And its locked fount of beauty use,
And through the stream of music tell
Its else unutterable spell;
To choose it rightly is his part,
And press into its inmost heart.
"Miserere, Domine!
The words are uttered, and they flee.
