Thomas Edward Brown (1830–1897)

[Samuel Sebastian Wesley]

WHEN Wesley died, the Angelic orders,

To see him at the state,

Press’d so incontinent that the warders

Forgot to shut the gate.

So I, that hitherto had follow’d

As one with grief o’ercast,

Where for the doors a space was hollow’d,

Crept in, and heard what pass’d.

And God said:—‘Seeing thou hast given

Thy life to my great sounds,

Choose thou through all the cirque of Heaven

What most of bliss redounds.’

Then Wesley said:—‘I hear the thunder

Low growling from Thy seat—

Grant me that I may bind it under

The trampling of my feet.’

And Wesley said:—‘See, lightning quivers

Upon the presence walls—

Lord, give me of it four great rivers,

To be my manuals.’

And then I saw the thunder chidden

As slave to his desire;

And then I saw the space bestridden

With four great bands of fire;

And stage by stage, stop stop subtending,

Each lever strong and true,

One shape inextricable blending,

The awful organ grew.

Then certain angels clad the Master

In very marvellous wise,

Till clouds of rose and alabaster

Conceal’d him from mine eyes.

And likest to a dove soft brooding,

The innocent figure ran;

So breathed the breath of his preluding,

And then the fugue began—

Began; but, to his office turning,

The porter swung his key;

Wherefore, although my heart was yearning,

I had to go; but he

Play’d on; and, as I downward clomb,

I heard the mighty bars

Of thunder-gusts, that shook heaven’s dome,

And moved the balanced stars.