Lo, where they play, the fiery squadrons bright,
Along the spangled azure of the night;
Waving aloft their ensigns, where the while
Wheels to the sphered music many a file
Of heavenly soldiery--and poured on high
Far o'er the Orient and the southern sky,
Fair stations of still fire their watches keep,
O'er half the world entranced in slumber deep;
Or, issuing into brightness, dome and hall,
And palace front distinct with columns tall,
In mystic maze of varied light are driven
Along the pictured concave of the Heaven:
And ever and anon upon the North
Vistas of rosy flame are opening forth,
And centres of intense and throbbing light
Pour eddying brillance o'er the arch of Night.

So, in the primal infancy of Man,
Ere yet the desolating curse began,
Hues of celestial sheen were wont to rise
Far o'er the blosmy groves of Paradise;
While the blest pair stood wondering to behold
Shiftings of myriad gleams from wings of gold,
And in a deeper glory faint descried,
Mid blazonry of banners floating wide,
Some Seraph Hierarch, on his aery way
Companied earthward by that high array.