Meantime the birds,
with many coloured plumage, skimmed along the unploughed air, and taught
the silent woods and hills to echo with their song.
Creatures, hymn the praises of your creator! Thou sun, prolific parent
of a thousand various productions, by whose genial heat they are
nurtured, and whose radiant beams give chearfulness and beauty to the
face of nature, first of all the existences of this material universe
acknowledge him thy superior, and while thou dispensest a thousand
benefits to the inferior creation, ascribe thine excellencies solely to
the great source of beauty and perfection! And when the sun has ceased
his wondrous course, do thou, O moon, in milder lustre show to people of
a thousand names the honours of thy maker! Thou loud and wintery north
wind, in majestic and tremendous tone declare his lofty praise! Ye
gentle zephyrs, whisper them to the modest, and softly breathe them in
the ears of the lowly! Ye towering pines, and humble shrubs, ye fragrant
flowers, and, more than all, ye broad and stately oaks, bind your heads,
and wave your branches, and adore! Ye warbling fountains, warbling tune
his praise! Praise him, ye beasts, in different strains! And let the
birds, that soar on lofty wings, and scale the path of heaven, bear, in
their various melody, the notes of adoration to the skies! Mortals, ye
favoured sons of the eternal father, be it yours in articulate
expressions of gratitude to interpret for the mute creation, and to
speak a sublimer and more rational homage.
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