  TO E. T. G. Out from the depths of silence The god of music came, To echo heavenly cadence On earth's fair shores of fame. Full-orbed, with heavenly glory, He met the lords of earth. But 'twas the old, old story, They blind were to his worth. So back to depths of silence He flew on wings of light, "To bide their time of nonsense," He sang when out of sight. And as rolled on the ages, He ever and anon Sent down to earth his pages The lords to breathe upon. At length he felt vibrations, From Germany's fair clime, Of sweetest modulations E'er heard in realms of time. So forth he flew in rapture To that dear father-land, To seize—ere earth could capture— A spirit pure and grand, To which he could surrender Himself with perfect ease, And weave the music tender, Of heaven's own harmonies. He found the child Beethoven; On him his blessing fell. And in his soul was woven The sounds we know so well. |
|
