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Untitled Article
Mrs . Albion . Hush ! pray do not disturb the soliloquy of his sublime trance . His lips move again .
Father Zodiac ( waking gradually as he proceeds } . Oh , wide expanse of twili ght ! see I not through the solemnity of thy purple shadow , streaks of a fresh-born day ? See I not some breaks emitting the first gleams of renewed radiance upon earth ? Hear I not far-off echoes faintly breathing their symphonies through the opening clouds ? Come they from other worlds ? or are they the heralds of time ' s grand revolution , —the aH-embracing Platonic year ,
—bringing back ancient days , when primitive man walked in naked purity along earth ' s happy fields , not more lustrous of the sun than was
his soul with his Maker ' s essence ? Advance ! advance ! these aged hands , wrinkled and grained with the past , even as the hoary forest oak , whose rough-barked arms expand oracular to the
portentous east , thus I uplift to hail and adore the returning sun , or regenerative star of patriarchal days ! Advance ! I am not so- old as I have deemed myself!—with thy advent , oh great progressive Good ! I take up my youth once more . Thus , thus , I shake off the load of heavy years ! Nay , nay , these old bones ache with the ingress of young spirit , and cannot keep pace with the long life of reason ! But I shall live to see—I shall live to see the
dawn . —But who are these standing round me ? Welcome , my sons . I have had visions savouring strongly of reality . Yet , what wonder , since they were compounded of my constant thought , and all our best and strongest hopes ? Welcome ! have you waited long ? why was I not aroused ? Mrs . Albion . Why should we arouse you when even your < Jreams savour of an awakening world ? Why should not we wait when you have waited so long ?
Father Zodiac ( rising ) . I have waited long indeed , my child , with patient sufferance ; but not too long ; for see , the sun ' s broad shoulder shines bare above the horizontal line!—a constant exhortation to benighted humanity—a sublime substantial homily which man at . last has rightly interpreted !
Syrius ( singing ) . Sweet breathes the matin air , And the tops of the trees are gold Midst leaves and blossoms fair The singing-birds are bold ; They flutter , and peep , and pair , As free as in days of old ! Why are we—Why are we
Legs happy than the peopled tree ? Chorus ( outside ) . Why are we—Why are we Less happy than the peopled tree ? 2 xw l t
Untitled Article
Dies sub Coelo . 367
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Citation
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Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), June 2, 1835, page 367, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2646/page/3/
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