Henry Alford

Written During An Aurora Borealis, January 7, 1831

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.