953 3-739 vis C-NRLF II IflE M7D A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS, ETC. ETC. MARCHANT, PRINTER, INGRAM-COURT. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS, AND OTHER POEMS. BY JOHN GRAHAM, OF WADHAM COLLEGE. LONDON : T. AND W. BOONE, 29, NEW BOND STREET; AND J. VINCENT, OXFORD. MDCCCXXXIV. THE REVEREND DR. WILLIAMS, THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY HIS FORMER PUPIL, THE AUTHOR -13 PREFACE. SOME apology may be deemed necessary for the first of these Poems, inasmuch as it contains neither any con- nected story, moral, nor, in short, any of the usual requisites for a poem. Like an antique and broken bas-relief awkwardly arranged by the hand of some unskilful work- man, it exhibits scarcely any traces of the original design : would that I could carry the resemblance farther, and say, that, though disunited, it was beautiful in mutilation, and atoned, by the indestructible beauty of its parts, for its want of regularity as a whole. But perhaps I am too bold in comparing it to an antique, although broken ; and Vlll should rather liken it to the " capriccio" of a modern sculptor, where, on the same block, a number of gro- tesque and unconnected shapes are crowded together. Both, I presume, hold the lowest rank in the several arts of poetry and sculpture, and so far at least are liable to comparison. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. Jam laeta futures Expectat natura decs nova rmmina rebus Addite. Claudian. I. THEIR'S was a bright mythology of yore, Who walk'd with angel spirits to and fro Along the pleasant earth, ere yet it bore Its baneful fruit of bitterness and woe ! When man was godlike in his strength, and wore The garb of immortality below And nought, save life, was needed to impart Love's own intense religion of the heart ! B A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. II. Ere yet the sword was forg'd, and from the slain The heart's red vintage dyed the peaceful sod, Whose shrinking breast gave back th' unhallow'd rain To call on high for vengeance unto God ; Ere yet the joyous earth's polluted plain, Scorch 'd by his step, grew barren where he trod And man, with Cain-like mark upon his brow, Yet unrepenting, wander'd forth as now. III. Their's was no blinded worship the still shore, The mount snow-vestur'd, and the wooded glen, ThrilFd with the countless feet of them that bore Comfort and hope glad tidings unto men. Farewell, bright messengers ! Alas ! no more That transient vision glads our earthly ken, But fond hope whispers that ye linger yet O'er those whom love forbids ye to forget. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. IV. In vain for you Eternity hath built Its bright pavilion in yon starry clime Ye fled, when love, synonymous with guilt, Grew dark, and passion ripen'd into crime. 1 Round each pure foot the blood through ages spilt Rose in dread witness of the coming time,* And Hell's triumphant angels saw ye fly Back to your own pure mansions in the sky. V. Yet wak'ning Mem'ry wander'd back to claim That first tradition of another sphere, Tracing perchance in many a fabled name The steps of those who made their dwelling here, And still star-throned in yon orbs of flame, Look down, with eyes unsullied by a tear, On that lost world whose long-remember'd plain Their angel feet must never tread again. B 2 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. VI. The poet's fable and the minstrel's song Hymn'd the bright record of their heav'nly birth, Till Fancy number'd in th' Olympic throng The name of each fair sojourner on earth Those gentler deities, to whom belong More love than worship in the fatal dearth Of that pure creed which teaches us to own The One unseen eternal and alone. VII. Such was the matron priestess of the soil, Who bore its sheaves upon her ample brow, Benignant Ceres ! weary from their toil, Lo ! at thy shrine earth's swarthy reapers bow ; Thou bid'st the falchion seek a bloodless spoil, Thou yok'st the war-steed to thy car the plough ; Thou gladdest earth, but sorrow still is thine, Actheia, 3 hence go seek thy Proserpine I A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. VIII. She who was wont each sunny tress to gem With gather'd buds the fairest of the spring- Herself pluck'd rudely from the parent stem, Droops on the breast of Hell's despotic king. Alas ! for childhood's simple diadem, That once lov'd coolly o'er her brow to cling ! Oh ! for the breeze that fann'd her roving free In the green vales of haunted Sicily ! IX. Sweet is each fount that in Elysium flows, Yet none so dear as that she leaves afar ; Bright are its flowers, but cherish'd not like those Which on the green earth's holy bosom are. Fair is the deathless ray that ever glows ; Yet dear were Night and her attendant star ! Why should warm life with the unliving wed ? Earth may not share the gladness of the dead. 6 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. X. And thou, her widow'd sister 4 of the Nile, Saturn's pale daughter, slain Osiris' bride ! Love-breathing Isis lady of the smile ! 5 Fair as the Lotos of thy favour'd tide ! Ancient of days 6 what fond eye shall defile That mournful beauty which thou fain would'st hide ? Piercing the shroudlike veil around thee cast, Queen of the present future and the past! 7 XI. Full many a lustrous-ey'd Egyptian maid Culling at morn fresh blossoms from the stream, Wreath 'd o'er thy marble brow her dewy braid. Eve comes apace, and with its waning beam The flow'rs, tho' twin'd in locks immortal, fade ; Yet not alone rous'd from as brief a dream, The hand that wreath'd, the eye that drank their light, Live thro' life's morn, but wither ere the night. 8 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XII. Haply for this in Egypt's festive halls, One silent guest, unmindful of their mirth, Dark-veiPd and crown'd with odorous coronals, Ghastly and still sate gazing on the earth. The wit that charms, the beauty that enthrals, By others mark'd, to her are nothing worth Bright eyes are flashing from thick-braided hair, Soft looks are speeding but they dwell not there. XIII. Untouch'd, the banquet seems in mockery spread Like earthly food before some godless shrine ; Pour'd like some last libation to the dead, Mantles unseen earth's nectar of the vine ; Unheard the minstrel's song hath idly fled. Aye lift the veil and gaze, fond dreamer ! thine, Thine are the features curtain'd there for she Was as thou art and is what thou shalt be. 8 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XIV. Beauteous art thou who turn'st thy tearful eye, Sadly to bend one sorrowing glance below Last of that Angel throng, who from the sky Once spread their glad wings' ever-changing glow- Heav'n-born Astrsea ! long forewarn'd to fly From earth and guilt from mortals and their woe, And thou who risest from the yielding sea, Worshipp'd of all Anadyomene ! 9 XV. Queen of the heart ! how warm the am'rous wave Enfolds each beauty with its crystal shrine ! How calm the wind, with passion wont to rave, Melts into music 'neath one glance of thine ! How soft the light from ev'ry jewelPd cave Sleeps on the bosom of the sleepless brine ! Where each rous'd billow of the wanton tide Spreads its bold arm to clasp the ocean bride. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XVI. Her rubied lip, unknowing how to speak, Yet beams all eloquent with beauty's smile ; Her dark hair gathers o'er each burning cheek, Like storm clouds black'ning o'er some rosy isle. From the white foam uprais'd, her whiter neck Gleams like the silver Lotos of the Nile And still the mad wave knows not how to sever From that fair shape it cannot clasp for ever. XVII. For earth is not thy home, almighty Love ! Although warm hearts are throbbing in its sphere Thou may'st not haunt with us a mortal grove, Where beauty still is blinded with a tear ! Man's hope, man's sorrow, sojourn not above Why should we chain thy heav'nward footsteps here ? Earth bare, but may not keep thee from her breast, Haste to the fated mansion of thy rest ! 10 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XVIII. Omnipotent in beauty ! thou dost need No other guard than thine own loveliness Daughter of Immortality ! the creed Of thine adorers cannot give thee less Than in thine own unfurrow'd brow they read, And drink from eyes which open but to bless Thou hast not scorn'd the sphere which gave thee birth, Thou ling'rest yet incarnate upon earth. XIX. We trace thy step in many a passing form, Which seen but once can never be forgot Bright things sent down, like stars amid the storm, To fling Heav'n's radiance o'er an earthly lot In many an eye with love's own lustre warm, In many a brow where passion burneth not In many a youthful lip, whose bird-like tone Sinks in the heart, and makes the soul its own. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 1 1 XX. For love is omnipresent in its power, Haunting all times and beauty may not die, Morn's rosy blush, and evening's twilight hour, When earth is calm, and lovers learn to sigh. The hoarse-tongued rivulet, the valley's flow'r, Night's star, and woman's rapture-speaking eye, Live in their essence all with beauty rife, All fraught with love, which is the soul of life. XXI. Foam-cradled Aphrodite ! Laughter-fed, Garb'd in warm beauty, girdled with love's zone ! Earth-born Urania ! from that ocean bed Arise, and make the universe thine own. Life's constant star ! Companion of the dead ! Waking our tears for beauty which hath flown ! Bright in earth's gladness brighter 'mid its gloom Pervading life nought shrinking from the tomb ! 12 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. SONG. 1. Is there not beauty on the earth, And holiness above ? Is there an hour that gives not birth To something we may love ? 2. The breeze awakes at eventide, To woo the virgin rose ; The streamlet whispers to his side, Each flow'ret as he flows. 3. To sink on earth's attractive breast, The rain-drop from the cloud, The new-wing'd lightning from its nest, Instinctively are bow'd. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS, 13 4. The golden sunset's liquid glow Sleeps pillow'd on the sea The waves are clasping as they flow, Each other silently. 10 5. The mountain-peak with snowy crown, Upon its forehead pale, Yet flings its earthward shadow down Upon the shelter'd vale. 6. And king-like thron'd above the air, A monarch in the sky, The bright sun bids the moonbeam share His immortality. 1 4 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 7. All things are embrac'd by love, Life-charter'd by its breath In earth below, in Heav'n above, Beauty slumbereth. XXII. All hail to thee, lone maiden of the night, Fair-hair M" Selene ! com'st thou to surprise Thine own adorer on th' accustom'd height, 14 With the cold lustre of those madd'ning eyes ? Yes, he hath gaz'd upon their worshipped light Full oft like one who drinketh ere he dies, Still gaze, Endymion, thou art not the first 13 Whose soul has yearn'd with that undying thirst- A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 15 XXIII. That frantic wish the vulture of the breast, Which erst Prometheus in his bosom bore Earth-chain'd, in soul to mingle with the blest ; Mortal, to tread the sky's immortal shore To lift the curtain from that home of rest, Whose threshold is infinity, and soar Till the freed spirit from its chain of clay, Upborne on wings, anticipates decay. XXIV. The minstrel wanderer who spake of Troy, While nations listened to his thrilling lute And he who told how man's primseval joy Fled with the taste of that forbidden fruit Each felt the darkness which could not destroy The thoughts, whose echoes never shall be mute. 14 For them earth slept but Heav'n with all its glow Lit the dim eye that open'd not below. 1 G A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XXV. And thou, Mohammed, who may'st now compare With truth thine own imaginary hell Prophet of lies false dreamer who could'st dare, Bloodstained, of bliss sin-taught, of Heav'n to tell- Thine was no poet's soul, to wander where On thrones of burnish'd gold the sinless dwell; 15 But Eblis mocks reality thy dream Has dwelt in dark foreboding on the theme. XXVI. Madman ! to think that woman's gentler soul Shar'd not the gladness of the realm above Each holy draught of life's immortal bowl Burns from her lip, and brightens with her love She whose angelic footsteps earthward stole, To bless proud man, and by his side to rove. Fool ! that could'st frame for her some meaner spot, Or think that Heav'n could be, where she was not. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 17 XXVII. Bend to the reeling Dryad of the vine, With Autumn's light upon his stained lip Bow to the Naiad of the blushing wine, In whose red stream their wings the muses dip. Kneel to the god ! who leaves his verdant shrine, Heav'n's purest ray, earth's ripest dew to sip. Friend of the weak, and trampler of the strong ! Whose inmost soul is blended with my song. XXVIII. Bacchus, unwearied reveller by night, Wreathing with purple clusters thy loose hair ! Where shall we build the trophy of thy might ? Lift the wild shout, and pour the frantic pray'r ? On Naxos 16 shore, and old Cithaeron's height/ 7 The owlet lurks the wild beast hath its lair : While from thy grape the tears unbidden start We we will rear thy temple in the heart. c 18 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XXIX. Fair was the worship glorious the throng, Which knelt before thine altar-stone of old. The wise, the brave, the beautiful, the strong, Earth's warrior children, fram'd in giant mould, Sought the red fount, and rais'd the Bacchant song, With burning lip, and bosom never cold, To him who ask'd no victim for his shrine, Save the warm life-blood of the bleeding vine. XXX. From him, the tempted patriarch, 18 who first Quench 'd in thy torrent reason's waning ray, From stoic Cato's philosophic thirst, 19 Down to the last vile drunkard of to-day How many have been blest, how many curst, By thy lov'd service, or thy loathed sway. But thou dost smile on all who bend the knee, That fault is in thy worshippers not thee. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 1 XXXI. Nor these alone, as minstrels joy to tell, Sought the dim surface of the darkened earth E'en now unseen, unnumber'd myriads dwell, Thron'd on our planet's cold and rayless girth. Blest be the creed, and potent yet the spell, That watch 'd in fondness o'er their secret birth - And green the laurel o'er his lowly grave, Whose deathless song their first existence gave. XXXII. The dew-lov'd vi'let, and the cypress tall, The pale fount gushing from the mountain's side- The stars cloud-seated in their azure hall, The leaping wave twin-brother of the tide, Earth, ocean, and far space, are haunted all, By shapes which mortal love hath deified, Fair spirits exil'd from their home of bliss In some lost world too beautiful for this. c2 20 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XXXIII. Oft in the zephyr as it murmurs by, Is heard the whisper of their spirit wing, And dark eyes glancing from the thicket nigh, Through the lost soul their madd'ning lustre fling. Hark ! their glad voices swell the distant sigh Of the far stream, that sleepeth not and bring A holy calmness o'er the troubled breast, Whose chambers ope to that long-absent guest XXXIV. Is it the Faun who wakes with airy reed His vesper greeting to night's drowsy ear ? No earthly minstrel, such the poet's creed, No mortal lip, I ween, is breathing here. Now borne afar the dying notes recede, Now from the grove float eloquently near, Like some unquiet bird whose restless wing Flits to and fro, for ever wandering. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 21 XXXV. Or she, the gentle Lady of the Mount, Unknown, adored soul-worshipp'd, tho' unseen, Whose glad voice mingles with the gurgling fount, Sweet as the gush of classic Hippocrene ? Man hath not scar'd thee from thy woodland haunt, Time hath not marr'd as yet thy covert green, Heav'n-seeking nymph ! lone Oread, may'st thou still Dwell in thy star-wrought shadow of the hill ! XXXVI. Lo ! where the young fount laughing, from its cell, Leaps like some playful nursling of the rock, Nymphs of the rivulet, the Naiads swell With all unneeded tears its crystal stock; Albeit to them is giv'n the searching spell Dark earth's far hidden fountains to unlock, And pour the sunless treasures of the deep With urns aye-flowing : wherefore should they weep ? 22 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XXXVII. Bas'd in the streamlet's ever-changing breast, Built in the wave their deep pavilions lie ; Sweet is their sloping bank with flow 'rets drest, Glassy the marge that mirrors back the sky. In that pure realm who would not deem them blest, And think that grief is their's alone who die ? The winds laugh out the small waves as they leap Lift up their voices : wherefore should they weep ? XXXVIII. Because for them no being hath been born Love-fraught to cheer their solitary doom, No fond eye glances downward with the morn, No warm lip woos their beauty 'neath the gloom. Yes ! they would brave the cold earth's chilling scorn, Life's troubled passage to the peaceful tomb ; And leave their deathless world's unreal bliss, For one soul-felt, impassioned hour in this. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 23 XXXIX. 'Mid the deep silence of the cloister'd grove, What time soft twilight spreads her holiest veil, The poet watch'd unseen the Dryad rove, Or fling her floating tresses to the gale, And drank with frenzied eye unearthly love, For that bright tenant of the haunted dale ; Till vanquish 'd reason deem'd each shape divine, And passion knelt to worship at their shrine. XL. And when at eve the wave-awaken'd breeze Sigh'd to the trembling boughs its vesper hymn, And dew-drops brightly gemm'd the bending trees, Or earthward dropp'd from ev'ry drooping limb, He fondly deem'd that from their prison, these With heav'nly weepings dew'd the foliage dim, Or wail'd in secret from their leafy cell The viewless chain which bound them like a spell 24 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XLI. And sought the warm heart's ceaseless throb to 'Neath the rough girdle of the clasping rind, And shut the gladness of the cheerful day From eyes which nature meant not to be blind. While yet the circling ivy's hated spray Round ev'ry limb its verdant fetters twin'd, And winter came with icy hand to shred, Full oft spring's joyous garland from their head. XLII. Such was the youthful dream whose brightness stole In wild delirium round the poet's sense, Calling sweet visions round his tranced soul, Till inspiration woke, and drew from thence Deep draughts of bliss, as from a poison 'd bowl, Whose dreamy spell, luxuriously intense, Clung round each inmost thought, while heart and brain Reel'd with the gush of love's thick-dropping rain. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 25 XLIII. For him the world was peopled with bright things, Fancy's sweet children, who before his eye Rose through the summer air on noiseless wings, Or bent in starlike beauty from the sky. Now in his ear they sweep their elfin strings, As if some honey 'd bee were munn'ring nigh, Or calling where he treads the truant breeze, Shake down their treasur'd blossoms from the trees. XLIV. Blest hour of youth alas ! thy tearless scroll Too soon is blotted from " life's scanty page"- Too soon the flow'r-like freshness of the soul Withers beneath the canker-worm of age. Quick fades thy light, and angry tempests roll O'er the sad path of mortal pilgrimage, And Mem'ry gathers to her fun'ral urn Each ravish 'd bliss that never shall return. 26 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XLV. Oh ! turn again, and make thy dwelling still E'en in thy once-lov'd temple of the heart Chase from its vestal flame the deadly chill Of earth, which dare not linger where thou art ! Come, with thy dove-like wings, whose airy thrill Can heal the wound of Time's envenom'd dart, And wake the soul's lock'd fountains from their sleep In wearied eyes that know not how to weep. XLVI. Bring back the sunny smile, the frequent tear, That gemm'd our morn the yesterday of life; The flow'r is dewless now the green leaf sere, The branch all barren, once with blossoms rife. Alas ! they come not but we linger here On earth, the sad inheritors of strife While Passion's throb and Hope's illusive ray Live but to wrestle with their own deca. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 27 XLVII. Rise, ye fair daughters of the dancing foam, Whose jewelFd feet tread lightly o'er the wave, Which is the threshold of your ocean home, Rise from the pearled hall and azure cave ! Rise from the blue depths of that silent dome, Where each tam'd billow crouches like a slave ! The soft moon slumbers over earth and sea, The stars look down in beauty Where are ye ? XLVIII. Oh ! by the music of that voiceless spell, Which breathes at eventide o'er ocean's breast- By the sad murmur of the wreathed shell, Whose wailing spirit never sinks to rest By the red blush that lights your fairy cell, When Phoebus slopes unwearied to the west By thy sea-worshipp'd hair and snowy brow, Daughter of Ocean, pity listen now ! 28 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. XLIX. By those blue laughing eyes that wildly beam Through the light mantle of the leaping spray, Like midnight stars thick- mirror'd in the stream, Whose heaving bosom multiplies their ray By thy white shoulders' wave-encircled gleam, O'er which the loosen'd tresses love to stray, Leave the dark chambers of thy charmed sleep Why slumb'rest thou ? Wake, daughter of the deep ! L. Come from the darkness of the crystal shroud, That veils each beauty with its envious dew ; The soft wind sleeps wave-cradled, and the cloud Like some far island floateth in the blue. Bright eyes look down, and angel heads are bow'd The sunny radiance of thy smile to woo, And voices fall like rain-drops from above, O'er thy cold heart to warm thee into love. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS, 29 STAR SPIRITS' SONG. 1. Wake, daughter of Ocean ! fair child of the Sea ! Our fond eyes are weary with watching for thee, Each spirit 10 has wander'd raylike from its sphere, To rest on thy bosom why art thou not here ? 2. Our feet would not crush the white foam as it springs, The wave is unruffled, though fann'd by our wings, Our spell is unspoken, but swift to thine ear It speeds through the billow Sea-maiden, appear ! 3. We have chain'd the rude zephyrs that daringly sip, As they wanton at eve, the ripe dew from thy lip ; Heav'n's light floweth down like a fount on the sea, It calls us afar but we linger for thee. 30 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 4. Oh ! bright is the track of our pathway above, But the cold earth is brighter when hallow'd by love And the star-spirit bends from his desolate shrine, Sweet maid of the waters, to worship at thine ! LI. They come they come ! and from their beauty fling, Like a thin robe, the ocean's azure vest; They come ! light streams from each immortal wing Like rays wave-borrow'd from the ruddy west. Now like a charmed warrior as they sing, The courteous billow stoops his snowy crest, And the winds hush their wailing o'er the seas, Spell-bound, to list their own Nereides. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 3 1 SEA-NYMPHS' ANSWER FROM THE WAVE. 1. In each chamber of coral thy summons was heard, By its spell the blue depths of the billow were stirr'd ; Lo, thronging around thee we rise from our sleep, Like sea-flowers blossoming over the deep. 2. We have woo'd to our bosom thy quick-gushing light, As it fell from the stars' golden chalice at night ; We have bar'd to its lustre each love-beaming brow; Star-spirit ! the ocean-bom looks on thee now ! 3. Oh ! cold is the breast of the dark-heaving sea, But warm hearts within it are beating for thee ; Then bar us afar to thy dwelling on high, For with nothing to love it were better to die. 32 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 4. Or stay thou with us is thy mansion more blest Than the Sea-maiden's wave-circled home of the west ? Lo, thus my long tresses around thee I twine, With my white arms I clasp thee eternally mine ! 5. Nay, list not their voices they call thee afar To thy passionless couch in the cold even-star ; Now downward together we sink through the foam, And the Sea-maiden's breast is the star-spirit's home ! A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 33 LII. Rob'd in the silken gossamer that flows, Woven in lustre from your elfin loom ! Couch 'd in the ruby chambers of the rose, Fed by its dew, and curtain'd by its bloom ! Hither, ye elves ! the sunbeam fainter glows, And the lov'd twilight gathers with its gloom Fly from the grassy mount's untrodden brow, Drop from the scented blossom of the bough.* 1 LIII. Steal from the lily's dew-bespangled bell,. ;/ , That rings its fairy curfew to the night Haste from the lowly vi'let's hidden cell, Whose beauty shrinketh widow-like from sight- Creep from the truant snail's deserted shell, Come from the cowslip's golden halls of light Wake from each blossom of the apple tree, That opes its bright pavilion to the bee. 34 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. LIV. Man's waking hour hath pass'd, and holy sleep Sits on his throbless temples, like a crown Fresh pluck'd from Lethe's garden of the deep, Briefly to chain each master passion down. Nought recks the slumb'rer now of eyes that weep, Of lips that threaten, and of brows that frown ; No more his curses climb the darken'd sky In wrath the pure ait burns not with his sigh, LV. Then come, if e'er your lightly-falling feet Have call'd soft echoes from the hollow dell If e'er the music of the breeze was sweet, That lulls the folding flow'r-leaf with its spell- If e'er with answ'ring voice ye lov'd to greet The lute-like plaint of widow'd Philomel If e'er the weeping bough its tear-drops threw To deck your fairy coronet with dew. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 35 LVI. The world is our's alone the conscious stars, Night's holy children, vigilant above, Look down in silence from their golden cars To seek below for something they may love. Haste to the fairy tryste nought earthly mars, As erst, our elfin revel in the grove ; Soft harps are sounding with their wonted thrill, Bright feet are glancing noiseless on the hill. FAIRIES' SONG. 1. Our acorn cup is brimming o'er, With drops of pearly dew ; By fairy-hands 'twas gather'd from Thevi'let'seyeofblue. 36 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 2. Oh ! could we dash the melting tear From many a mortal eye, As quickly as the cold dew-drops That on the flow'ret lie. ' V:" 3. From yonder turf is mirror'd back The silver of the moon, And where our fairy feet have trod, It will be greener soon. 4. The green herb drinks unwithering The life that we impart : Oh, that our echoing steps could fling A freshness o'er the heart ! A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 37 LVII. There is a melting holiness in night, Caught from the moon who wandereth on high- There is a silent worship in the light Of each glad star that gazeth from the sky. The still earth whispers with a voice of might, The ocean lifts afar her wonted cry As if unheard thro' wide creation's span, Fond nature spoke, to intercede for man. THE STARS. " Let there be light," thou said'st- We heard, and upward sprang ; Then first thro 7 peopled space Our seraph voices rang. 38 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. Each gazing eye hath lov'd us, As we shone o'er earth and sea ; Each mortal lip hath bless'd us, But we are praising thee. In silence and in lustre, We have wander'd down below, To watch the tears in weeping eyes, And gild them as they flow. Man's fever'd brain hath slumber'd As we shone upon his brow, And his aching heart hath soften'd, But he knew not it was thou ! To us alone he breath'd the pray'r," To us he bent the knee Forgive him ! oh, forgive him ! If he knelt to aught but thee. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 39 THE EARTH. A wand'ring orb in airless space, I fell to ruin hurl'd ; A still voice shook the dark abyss, I leapt to life a world. Thou madest bright and beauteous things To fill that home of rest; With a mother's love I clasp'd them Like children to my breast. I have nurs'd them in the pride of life, I have cradled them in death ; I have lov'd them, for I knew they were The creatures of thy breath. 40 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. Man's heart hath all forgotten thee, And wander'd from thy will ; With lip alone he praiseth thee, But, oh, forgive him still ! His flowing blood has stain'd my breast With Death's unholy hue Forgive the creatures thou hast made ! They know not what they do. THE SEA. In many a dark and frozen fount, In many a central cave, The murmur of my waters slept, The thunder of my wave. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 41 Unborn the light that gently now Sleeps pillow'd on my , breast; Unbreath'd the sportive gale that wakes Each ripple from its rest. Tide calleth unto ocean tide, Sea calleth unto sea, One mighty spirit from them all Is calling unto thee ! Thy breath has roll'd me onward From the infancy of Time : I have travers'd ev'ry island shore, I have circled ev'ry clime. I have watch'd man in his innocence, I've mark'd him in his fall, The nameless savage in his den, The Caesar in his hall. 42 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. I have met the pale sun's icy glance, I have shrunk beneath his flame- Frail Nature changes as I flow, But man is aye the same. I crush 'd within their cavern'd home The young world's giant birth, No grasp of strength, no step of pride, Save mine, was on the earth ! Then thou did'st spare Oh ! pity now, And tarry yet to save, As thou did'st rescue heretofore, A remnant from the wave ! * # # # # NOTES. PAGE 3. STANZA IV. Grew dark, and passion ripen' d into crime. 1 When the spiritual love which angels might feel for mankind as the work of a common creator, degenerated into a more earthly attachment. Rose in dread witness of the coming time. a The deluge. PAGE 4. STANZA VII. Actheia, hence go, seek thy Proserpine ! 3 A^0e, the sorrowing, a name bestowed on Ceres after the rape of Proserpine. 44 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. PAGE 6. STANZA X. And thou, her widow'd sister of the Nile. 4 Isis is the Ceres of Egypt. Love-breathing Isis lady of the smile. 5 Gentle, very gentle and sweet is the smile in almost all the figures Isis which I saw. Scenes and Impressions in Egypt. Ancient of days. 6 According to some the word Isis signifies ancient. Queen of the present, future, and the past. 7 Alluding to the well-known inscription I am all that has been, tl shall be, and none among mortals has hitherto taken off my veil. Ta otrac xai ret ta-o^ivot x.ai rat ysyovorot, tyu etjui ro t^ ot/of(( atiFSKOt^v^ev o syu KOLQITUV ETIXOV ijXto? tytvtro PAGE 6. STANZA XL Live thro 1 life's morn, but wither ere the night. 8 Quam modo nascentem rutilus conspexit Eous, Hanc rediens sero vespere vidit anum, Collige, virgo, rosas, dum flos novus et nova pubes ; Et memor esto ^Evum sic properare tuum. Ausoniim. A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 45 PAGE 8. STANZA XIV. Worshipped of all Anadyomene. sea-born. PAGE 13. SONG, v. 4. Each other silently. 10 Love's Philosophy. Shelley. PAGE 14. STANZA XXII. Fair-hair' d Selene. 11 SiXnwj, the lustrous. Thine own adorer on th' accustomed height. 12 Mount Latmos was the scene of those interviews with which Diana favoured her mortal lover. Still gaze, Endymion, thou art not the first. 13 A fiery thirst preys upon those who are impaled, but as to drink is to die, that last yearning of nature is not gratified until the body is insen- sible to any further torture. Such is the thirst of immortality, and thus only is it slaked. 46 A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. PAGE 15. STANZA XXIV. Whose echoes never shall be mute. 14 Both were blind, and both formed a hell and heaven of their own,- the immortal part of their vision seemed to be enhanced by the absent of the terrestrial. PAGE 16. STANZA XXV. On thrones of burnish'd gold the sinless dwell. 15 Mohammed's paradise is founded on the continuance of mortal pa: sion in a region of immortality. His place of torment, with its Al sira &c. is better imagined.; PAGE 17. STANZA XXVIII. On Naxos shore. 16 The birth-place of Bacchus. Old Citharon's height. 17 A haunt of the Bacchanals. . T A VISION OF FAIR SPIRITS. 47 PAGE 18. STANZA XXX. From him, the tempted patriarch. Noah. i From stoic Cato's philosophic thirst. 19 Narratur et prisci Catonis Saepe mero caluisse, virtus. PAGE 29. STAR SPIRITS' SONG, v. }. Each spirit has wander'd raylikefrom its sphere. 20 And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music. PAGE 33. STANZA LII. Drop from the scented blossom of the bough. 21 Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. PAGE 38. THE STARS. To us alone he breath 'd the pray'r. 22 Alluding to the Chaldaean star-worship. BELSHAZZAR'S IMPIOUS FEAST. 1831. LIKE a check'd courser foaming in his pride, The broad Euphrates rolls his sleepless tide ; Through heav'n's blue vault the lonely queen of night, Unclouded, pours her melancholy light ; And as the night-wind sighs, her dancing beam With troubled radiance crests the silver stream. But hark ! upon the breeze that murmurs by Is borne the distant shout of revelry; The long loud laugh, the Bacchanalian song, Where midnight wassailers the feast prolong. Again in fitful pauses loud and clear, Its joyous echo bursts upon the ear. BELSIIAZZAR'S IMPIOUS FEAST. 49 A thousand torches blaze in Belus' Hall, A thousand banners wave along the wall ; Belshazzar there in impious pride elate, Pleasure's pale minion, feasts in guilty state ; Around him lie reclin'd the fair, the free, Both old and young, Assyria's chivalry. Oh ! who would think, in viewing scene so fair, That death had brimm'd his bitter chalice there ? High on a throne, the rose-wreath on his brow, Belshazzar view'd the joyous crowd below ; Then, as his jocund soul exulted high, Thus spoke aloud his hideous blasphemy. Fill high the sacred bowl with rosy wine, Yon plunder'd trophy of Jehovah's shrine ! No less divine the gen'rous j uice will be Than when it serv'd the conquer'd Deity. In vain the pious offering Israel gave, How shall their God revenge who could not save ? 50 BELSHAZZAR'S IMPIOUS FEAST. Jehovah doth not sleep, thou impious king ! His anger rides upon the lightning's wing ; Submissive Israel's vanquish'd God hath sped The forked bolt of vengeance at thy head. Dim burn'd the lamps thro' that majestic hall, Trembled each banner on the marble wall Then burst a lurid flame, amid whose light A spectral hand was dimly seen to write. A bloody scroll appear'd, while round it broke, In sable wreaths to Heav'n, the eddying smoke. Belshazzar saw in vain he sought to fly The spell of that tremendous auguiy. In vain he shuts his eyes the burning scroll Is stamp'd in deathless lustre on his soul ; Again he turns the awful warning there Again recurs, and bids his soul despair. Rise, ye renown'd Chaldsean sages, rise ! Who read from Nature's glorious book the skies ; Bring ev'ry charm, and speak the potent spell Whose mystic chain can bind the powers of Hell ! BELSHAZZAR'S IMPIOUS FEAST. 51 Read yonder scroll ! to you ye say 'tis given Alone to speak the secret will of Heav'n. A chain of gold and purple robe shall be The victor's meed ; proud kings shall bow the knee Before his face, and spread around his name The radiant immortality of fame. In vain the white-rob'd Magi's mutter'd prayer In mournful cadence loads the midnight air : O / In vain they turn them to the eastern clime, Or speak th' unmeaning cabalistic rhyme ; Vain are their prayers no gleam prophetic stole In shadowy twilight to the wizard's soul ; The expected sign no answ'ring spirit gave, Sigh'd in the blast, or murmur'd from the wave. E'en fear was hush'd a horrid silence there Brooded around the silence of despair ! Chaldaea's priests have fail'd, but where is he Whose eye may pierce that veil of mystery ? The man of God ! insulted Israel's son ! Shall read the fate of haughty Babylon ! E2 52 IJKLSIIAZZAR'S IMPIOUS FEAST. Jehovah's prophet came that youthful sage Smil'd at the hoary dotard's baffled rage, While round in all the impotence of fear, The list'ning satraps shudder as they hear. For his the magic voice, and speaking eye Which bind the soul with secret mastery; His was that look with godlike feeling fraught, O'er which there beams the eloquence of thought And his the voice whose tones so deeply steal Around the souls that think and hearts that feel, That after years are gone, the painful thrill Of that undying sound shall haunt them still. Reserve thy gifts, O King ! to me 'tis giv'n To read yon threat'ning augury of Heav'n ; Thy proifer'd largess let another hold Jehovah bids me speak, but not for gold. Thy Father own'd the pow'r of Israel's God, And conquer'd nations trembled at his nod. Into his hand awhile Jehovah gave The teeming earth, the tributary wave ; BELSIIAZZAR'S IMPIOUS FEAST. 53 Around him plenty smil'd, and o'er his head Fortune and fame their kindliest influence shed. But mark the change ! Elate in impious pride, His haughty soul the living God defied ; Till reft of reason, banish'd from his throne, Among the senseless beasts he made his moan, With humble suff'rance kiss'd the lifted rod, And bow'd beneath the chast'ning hand of God ! And thou ! to whom thy father's fate should be A dreadful warning of futurity How hast thou linger'd out thy little hour ? With more than mortal insolence of pow'r ! How hast thou dar'd, 'mid Fortune's fickle ray, To curse the hand which call'd thee out of clay? Hear, then, from yonder scroll th' Almighty will, For God hath sworn and shall he not fulfil ? Thy days are number'd, and thy reign is o'er, Justice awakes, and mercy is no more ! The ambush'd Median burns in vengeful mood, To drench his thirsty blade in regal blood ; And silent hurrying on his darksome way, Springs like the crouching tiger to his prey. 54 BELSHAZZAR'S IMPIOUS FEAST. Jehovah's heavenly guidance leads him on, No remnant shall be left of haughty Babylon ! Tis past, and desolation's sadd'ning gloom Spreads her dark curtain o'er thy desart tomb. Around thy walls shall stalk the shadowy form, The restless fiend that rides the midnight storm ; The awe-struck traveller shall hasten by, Nor stop to pay the tribute of a sigh ! Thy streets shall sound no more with mortal tread The curse of God shall mark the city of the dead ! AARON STAYETH THE PLAGUE. WHICH OBTAINED THE GOLD MEDAL AT WINCHESTER COLLEGE, JULY, 1831. OH ! for the voice of him, whose raptur'd eye Pierc'd the dark veil of dim futurity, Whose hallow'd feet on trembling Sinai trod, To hold tremendous converse with his God : Or his, the Prophet, who from Peor's brow Surveyed the countless hosts that lay below, While from his lips th' unwilling accents fell, " How goodly are thy tents, O Israel :" So might .1 dare to wing my bolder flight, And drink with eagle gaze th' exhaustless flood of light. 56 AARON STAYETH THE PLAGUE. Eager and swift his joyous course to run O'er Paran's plain arose the cloudless sun, And Judah's banner'd host, in proud array, Hail'd the glad promise of the new-born day:- That sun is bright, but ere he seek the wave, His beam shall rest upon a nation's grave ; The zephyr freshens, but its balmy breath Shall float ere long an atmosphere of death. No more from Israel's holy altars rise The curling steams of morning sacrifice ; No more throughout her camp, the voice of love Wafts its pure incense to the skies above : Bent is each brow, and from the restless eye Glares the red glance of mad impiety ; Till onward, gath'ring fury as it ran, The mingled murmur pass'd from man to man. Of him they spoke, who with themselves had known The victor's vengeance and the captive's groan, Whose arm had curb'd th' oppressor's ruthless sway, " And broke his bonds and cast his cords away." AARON STAYETH THE PLAGUE. 57 Was this thy promise ? Was it thus to save The yawning sea roll'd back her greedy wave ? Was it for this, earth felt the thrilling shock, And waters gush'd from out the flinty rock ? Left we for this reward yon fruitful soil, Where peace and plenty crown'd our daily toil ? For this through desart wilds have dar'd to press, To find a grave within the wilderness ? And where are they the brave whom ye have slain, Shall their cold ashes wake to life again ? All crush'd they lie within their cavern'd bed, The wise who counsell'd, and the brave who led. Abiram sleeps within his cell profound, The blood of Dathan calls from out the ground. 'Twas thus they murmur'd, in their impious pride, 'Gainst him, their Lord, their Father, and their Guide, Whose arm had led them on their toilsome way, And cheer'd their darkness with his heavenly ray. Jehovah hears, and sleeps not even now The arm of vengeance speeds th' impending blow, And Hell's dark angel hov'ring in the air, Breaks o'er each head the phial of despair ! 58 AARON STAYETIT THE PLAGUE. E'en now the deadly pest, with baneful breath, Spreads o'er the crowd its canopy of death ! Ye faithful few belov'd of Heaven, away ! TV unsparing sword is out to smite and slay : Go, get ye up from out the guilty band ! Th' Almighty strikes, and who .shall stay his hand ? One dreadful boding pause, then through the sky Yells the wild scream of mortal agony ! Thousands are falling far and wide are spread, In one vast heap, the dying and the dead. As when the subtle damp's malignant wreath Spreads o'er the miner's torch its mist of death, And all unseen from whence its influence came, Clutches with phantom grasp the struggling flame, Thus sped the pest through each wild throbbing vein, Clasp'd the cold heart, and fir'd the reeling brain ; While fierce delirium urg'd its inward strife, And shriek'd a pray'r for death, yet madly clung to life. AARON STAYETH THE PLAGUE. 59 Nought earthly might withstand the searching blast Which through the sky in shrouded terror pass'd. The grass that grew around, the tender flower, Sank parch'd and wither'd by its scorching power; The greedy vulture, from his tower on high, Snuff 'cl in the tainted air with joyful cry, Flapp'd his dark wing, and plum'd his ruffl'd crest, Then rose up soaring from the mountain's breast. Gladly he views the loathsome pile beneath, And calls his brethren to the feast of death. He ne'er shall taste: e'en now the poison'd gale Strikes at his heart, his trembling pinions fail, Gasping awhile he wings his weary way, Then fluttering drops upon his destin'd prey. Why tarried Moses in that fearful hour ? Bow'd he beneath the storm's resistless power ? Had he no tear for Israel's fate to flow, Balm for her grief, or solace for her woe ? Serene, unaw'd, nay, proudly he had borne The glance of anger and the taunt of scorn ; 60 AARON STAYETH THE PLAGUE. But now he turn'd away his pitying eye : He could not see his own his Israel die ! To Aaron thus he spoke his brief command : " Go, take thy golden censer in thine hand, Quick let the holy cloud of fragrance roll In due atonement for each forfeit soul ; Perchance the Lord may bless thy pious care, And, though his wrath be kindled, deign to spare." Swift at the word, with all undying zeal, And that strong hope which only faith can feel, With breathless haste and generous fervour ran Through the rebellious camp the holy man ; Onward he toils along the cumber'd plain, And stands betwixt the slayer and the slain. O'er his wild streaming locks and ample brow The hand of time had flung its scattered snow ; Grief o'er his face in furrow'd lines had wrought The deep enduring trace of toil and thought ; AARON STAYETII THE PLAGUE. 61 And in his eye there beam'd that deathless hue Age cannot quench, adversity subdue, Which sheds amidst the low'ring storm of care A holy calm, a patience in despair. His parted lip was still, no bursting sigh Rose in sad echo to the mourner's cry ; But bright' ning hope and nieek-ey'd pity there Breath'd to their God on high the voiceless pray'r. That pray'r was heard, and Death's uplifted blade Dropped from his nerveless grasp, the plague was stay'd ! But who may sing the all unearthly scene Which tells where that avenging sword has been, Those dying forms that dare to gaze on heav'n, Harden'd in guilt, unaw'd and unforgiven. See where yon warrior vainly gasps for breath, His proud soul wrestling with the stroke of death ! The eye that spoke and quaiFd not, now is dim ; Cold droops the youthful head and nervous limb. 62 AARON STAYETH THE PLAGUE. Oh ! doubly bitter thus to feel the blow, And vainly grapple with the lurking foe, To feel, but not to see, the venom'd dart, While life's red current freezes at the heart ; No well-known voice to soothe each anxious fear, And whisper comfort in his dying ear : No dawning hope to check each rising sigh, And point to brighter realms beyond the sky, But conscious guilt in each convulsive throe, Points to a long eternity of woe. Now turn and view where yonder cow'ring train Feel the wild thrill of hope thro' ev'ry vein, O'er each cold face diffus'd with sudden start, The life-blood rushes from the beating heart ; On him all eyes are turn'd, whose holy aid Had look'd on death and bid his sword be stay'd,- Whose feet had rush'd their fainting life to save, And close the greedy portals of the grave. But as they view'd the lifeless forms that lay Blacken'd and fest'ring on their kindred clay, AARON STAYETII THE PLAGUE. 63 One sacred thrill of soft compassion stole In melting sadness to each alter'd soul, Joy turn'd to grief around that common bier, And pity claim'd her tributary tear. Thus at the last, when Time itself shall die, And shudd'ring nature give her latest cry, And Chaos, hast'ning to its second birth, Shall 'whelm the deep foundations of the earth, When the affrighted sky shall backward roll Before her Maker, like a burning scroll, When that last trump shall pierce the realms of night, And scare the shrieking fiends with hateful light, And burst the icy slumbers of the grave, And call the shroudless dead from ocean's wave, Then shall the second Aaron lift his head, The God that rescued, and the Lamb that bled, And shew, while o'er him rests the mystic Dove, The full perfection of his endless love, Chase from the sinner's soul its joyless gloom, And close the gates of Hell, triumphant o'er the tomb. STAFF A. Neque ego illi detrahere ausim Hcerentem capiti multa cum laude, coronam. DARKLY the wreathed mists their curtain spread, Child of the ocean ! round thy rocky bed, While yet the northern sun, with frigid smile, Streams in red twilight o'er each distant isle. But darker still beneath, the waveless deep, Lull'd in fierce calmness, like a Titan's sleep, Lies motionless as when the Almighty breath First rous'd its waters from their trance of death ; And floating on like strains of joy and rest, The new-born Zephyr kiss'd its dimpled breast. STAFFA. C5 Shorn of his beams, the sun, with mellow'd ray, O'er distant Ulva 1 struggles into day ; Fresh from another world he springs, and now Sits as a crown upon the mountain's brow. Tis but a moment dim before him rise The curling steams of ocean's sacrifice ; As if in homage, see ! the vapours fly, Borne on the breeze, beneath the redd'ning sky, Till you may trace, amid their varying shade, The baseless arch, or airy colonnade, Like that where oft Morgana's fairy pride Builds her brief pageant o'er the busy tide.* Slowly emerging from the vapour's night, The shrouded islet steals upon the sight, More lovely thus than when the mid-day beam Shall mar the gazer's imitative dream, 1 Ulva, a small island at a short distance from Staffa. * The Fata Morgana is supposed by the vulgar to be the work of a fairv. 66 STAFFA. And give to open view each charm reveal'd, Which fancy deems more beauteous when concealed, For such are human joys, that doubt can throw A deeper zest round ev'ry bliss below ; And fond hope, pointing onward to the last, Still paints the future brighter than the past. More slowly yet the thin veil rolls away Bright glows the wave beneath the dancing ray, And Staffa's thousand columns seem to leap From ocean's breast a temple of the deep. As if e'en now some wizard's demon hand Had bade the pillar rise, the arch expand, Rais'd by his spell, behold ! yon wond'rous cave Has bridg'd with hollow span the pathless wave ; And bidding proud defiance to the sea, The wall has heav'd its unwrought masonry. Stern in thy beauty ! nature's warmer smile Beams not for thee> thou rude and lonely isle ! No twining lichen wreaths thy sullen crest, No wild flow'r blossoms from thy rocky breast ; STAFFA. 67 No waving foliage woos the summer gale, No streamlet lends its freshness to the vale ; But o'er each whiten'd cliff the wintry blast Has howl'd for aye, in fury, as it pass'd Hurling the wave on high, till e'en the rock Trembled beneath its elemental shock. Yet art thou beauteous ! o'er the earth and sea, Where is that spot which shall compare with thee ? Thy mystic hall, which stands as erst it stood When through its arches swept the awaken'd flood, And firm as when beneath their friendly shade Its secret den the huge Behemoth made. Thy columns' cluster'd form, whose ev'ry part Seems built in Nature's mockery of art, Whose ev'ry shape the hidden artist's skill Doth seem to mould obedient to his will. The broken light, which tremulously falls With partial gleam along thy cavern 'd walls, Like some old cloister, where the twilight gray O'er less'ning arches sheds its feeble ray, 68 STAFFA. Till the long vista blends each melting hue, And veils in night the gazer's 'raptur'd view. Oh ! may not fancy prompt the pleasing dream, That Genius stole from thee his earliest theme? To thee we owe each once monastic pile, To thee the dim cathedral's Gothic aisle ; From thy primseval architecture rose Each labour'd charm that science still bestows. But what art thou ? We see thee in thy pride, Stemming, unmov'd thyself, the baffled tide ; We see thee rear on high thy giant form, Safe 'mid the whirlwind, reckless of the storm But still we know thee not ; no mortal tongue Hath told shall tell from whence thy fabric sprung. Perchance thou wast of Chaos, when the earth Awoke in beauty to its second birth ; When sun and stars beneath the Eternal's eye, Fraught with glad music, floated o'er the sky Or wert thou rais'd, as later legends tell, From ocean's depths by that tremendous spell STAFFA. 69 Which daemon lips to godlike Fingal gave, Hailing his proud dominion o'er the wave ? Nature ! we see 'tis thine, no mortal arm, Pois'd the firm rock, or culPd th* unholy charm ; No daemon toil'd to rear the fretted cell, Bound by tradition's visionary spell. Thou wert the architect but who may trace Thy secret workings in the viewless space ? Say, did the red volcano's fiery sweep Roar in wild conflict through the troubled deep ? Or did the earthquake, herald of its birth, Ope the dark portal of the teeming earth ? In vain we ask no perishable eye May pierce the veil that shrouds thy mystery ; But still we view thee, in each varied name, For ever chang'd, or changing, still the same ; Thron'd on the glacier, smiling in the vale, Borne on the whirlwind, breathing in the gale, Bright in the rising sun's unwearied beam, Wild in the forked lightning's angry gleam, 70 STAFFA. Nurse of the flow'r that decks the mountain's brow, Lord of the prison'd flame that howls below, Where shall we find the rude neglected spot Which thou hast shunn'd in which thou dwellest not ? The victor sea-king, while his homeward sail Woo'd to its swelling breast the northern gale, Yet stay'd his falcon flight, to gaze awhile On those fair cliffs, and that mysterious isle, Where dwelt for aye, enchain'd within his cave, The spell-bound dsemon of the tortur'd wave, Whose frantic moanings oft were heard to swell The storm within whose breast he loved to dwell. Such was the tale whose legendary sway Could charm the warlike pilgrim from his way ; That lurking spell which, name it as ye will, O'ermasters pow'r, and mocks at wisdom still. And oft, in later times, tradition told Of shepherd boy who watch'd his lonely fold STAFFA. 7 1 What time the sea-bird hush'd her wailing cry, And the last sunbeam blended sea and sky Who saw on yonder rock, whose rugged side Heeds not the ripple of the laughing tide, A female form, who wrung with eager care The jetty tendrils of her loosen'd hair ; But soon she turn'd, and quick with noiseless leap Plung'd like a meteor to her home the deep. Oh ! think the poet err'd not when he gave Their bright inhabitants to earth and wave ; E'en now the Dryad haunts her grove, and still The classic Naiad loves her gushing rill. Still the green circle marks at early dawn Where elfin feet have gemm'd the dewy lawn. Nor have the sea-maids left their silent reign Within the glassy chambers of the main. For oft at sunset's glow, or twilight hour, The faery world resumes its little power, And finds not o'er the earth a fitter shrine, A fairer home, thou desert isle, than thine. 72 STAFFA. Approach and enter 3 where thou treadest now The Celt has trod before thee, and his brow Was rais'd like thine is, with inquiring gaze, Toward the silent pile of other days. To him the place was holy, for it told Of those who lived the mighty ones of old, The wise in council, and in battle strong, Whose deeds of blood are chronicled in song. To him it was no solitude his eye Call'd into life each shape of phantasy. He saw great Fingal with unechoed pace Stalk wildly o'er his spirit's dwelling-place ; And car-borne Oscar, as in youth he died, Stanch the warm blood that welter'd from his side. He saw the warrior bard 4 whose kindling lay Hymn'd the dark rapture of the god-like fray ; Or prouder still, upon the battle plain, Peal'd the triumphant death-note of the slain. 3 As the sea never ebbs entirely out, it forms the only floor to this cave (Fingal's), but the broken range of columns which produces the ex- terior causeway is continued on each side within it. M'Culloch. 4 Ossian. STAFF A. 73 These were the gods of that unearthly shrine, This was his vision Christian, what is thine ? To thee it tells of one whose hallow'd name Dwelt on thy lip when first its language came ; Who heard thee lisp to Heav'n thine infant pray'r While yet thou knew'st not that a God was there ; The same who erst to rescued Israel gave A path of safety through the riven wave ; And girt with Nature's agonizing groan, Scorch'd upon Sinai's brow the shrinking stone Whose feet thick darkness eover'd where he trod, The framer of the world, the great, the living God. Oh ! what a temple for the heart to rise, Elate, in glad communion with the skies, And all unchain'd by chilling time or space, To meet its own Creator face to face ; No worldly thought to fling its with'ring stain, And call the spirit back to earth again ; No vulgar eye to check th' enthusiast's zeal, And mock those yearnings that it may not feel ; 74 STAFFA No altar built with hands, no dome supplied, The costly gift of penitence or pride ; No labour'd strain to prompt the lingering soul, And urge it onward to its heav'nly goal, But the wild music of the measured wave, That speeds its greeting to the thirsty cave, And each unchisell'd stone, whose front sublime Has frown'd in triumph o'er the stroke of time. Who has not felt amid the storm of life, When the heart sickens of its hopeless strife, That holiness of solitude, which throws O'er passion's self the aspect of repose? Which falls like dew upon the soul, and brings A transient gush from life's exhausted springs. Then mem'ry calls us back to those glad days When life seem'd beauteous to our erring gaze, Ere yet our sinless childhood learnt to weep, Or infant conscience whisper'd from her sleep Each virtuous thought of youth, each holier thrill, O'er which the world had flung its dead'ning chill STAFFA. 75 Then wakes again, and through the silent air The chasten'd heart pours forth its voiceless prayer. Adieu, fair Child of Ocean ! now no more The pilgrim's foot may trace thy lonely shore. No more, alas ! his raptur'd eye may dwell On tow'ring cliff or fairy-haunted cell. Like that undying one, condemned to roam Through ev'ry land in none to find a home ; He journeys on, where'er the welcome gale O'er Ocean's breast may speed his swelling sail ; More free to breathe in solitude than when He treads with humbled step the haunts of men; And oft perchance in some more favour'd isle, Where ceaseless summer sheds her gentler smile, Shall Mem'ry turn to thee her wakeful eye, Fraught with that simple love that ne'er can die. Again farewell ! for sinking in the west, Each glancing sunbeam tints the ocean's breast ; And the lone sea-bird wings her homeward way, Warn'd to her nest by each departing ray. 76 STAFFA. Scarce seen afar, the fisher's scanty sail Reluctant spreads before the fickle gale, And lulling each unholy thought to sleep, Eve's dewy mantle hovers o'er the deep : O'er thee she hastes to pour her balmy spell Again, thou lonely Child of Ocean, fare thee well ! GRANADA: & y rue IJoem, RECITED IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, JUNE 19, 1833. It is a story, Monsieur Le Notaire, said the gentleman, which will rouse up every affection in nature : it will kill the humane, and touch the heart of Cruelty herself with pity. The notary was inflamed with a desire to begin, and put his pen a third time into his inkhorn ; and the old gentleman, turning a little more towards the notary, began to dictate his story in these words STERNE. THRON'D in thy beauty on the mountain's breast, Fair as the fabled mansions of the blest, Bright as that fount, 1 the Arab's desert star, Whose gem-like waters sparkle from afar, 1 The diamond of the desert, described by Sir Walter Scott in the Talisman. 78 GRANADA. Art thou, Granada ! Man may ruin still, Himself, the weak creations of his will ; Pour forth the vessels of his puny wrath, And heap the wreck of empires on his path ; But Nature's beauty knows not of decay, Fears not the spoiler, recks not of the fray : And such is thine. Unhush'd, the mountain gale Drinks in the dewy freshness of the vale ; And still the streamlet, on its homeward flight, Bares its unshrinking bosom to the light ; Rob'd in the icy mantle of the sky, The far Sierra lifts its front on high ; And gaily springing from the bloodless sod, The wild flow'r blossoms where the warrior trod. Yet not alone to vale or mountain stream Hath Beauty lent her consecrating beam : Lo ! where the city lifts, as if in scorn, Her airy turrets to the op'ning morn. What though the victor's wrath, the bigot's zeal, Have marr'd the grandeur they could never feel ; GRANADA. 79 While cold neglect, that waiteth upon man, Urg'd on the wreck that Tyranny began ? They could not tear the wreath that time has cast, Or still the voice that speaketh of the past ; Though lost the crescent, Beauty lingers yet On swelling dome and sparkling minaret : She haunts the mosque, though no Muezzin there Calls the grave Moslem to his wonted pray'r ; And hangs the symbol of her deathless pow'r From the gray summit of the moss-grown tow'r. Yet hence, perchance, the warder's startled eye Dwelt on the Goth's advancing chivalry : He saw each banner'd squadron proudly sweep Through the deep glen and round th' untrodden steep; And curs'd the hated Giaour, whose Christian hand Had loos'd War's hell-hounds o'er his father-land. Yes ! War hath left its dismal record here, Traced in the victim's blood, the mourner's tear ; Stamp'd in fierce meaning on the batter'd wall, Writ in the silence of the ruin'd hall. 80 GRANADA. Here from the lip of myriads burst on high The Christian shout, the Moslem battle-cry : Each deep-embosom'd vale, and giant rock, Gave forth its voice in answer to the shock. Charge for the crescent, Islam ! boldly here Spur the wild steed, and grasp the gory spear ! Lift high the blade, and shake the loosen'd rein, And nerve each arm, that ne'er may strike again ! On for the cross ! their fainting squadrons reel : Forward for Spain, ye warriors of Castile ! Saints smile approving o'er each knightly deed Glory for all but Heav'n for those who bleed ! Such was the echoing shout that madly rose Through Andalusia's valleys of repose. Swift as the rous'd simoom's unearthly blast The war-tide rush'd, and wasted as it pass'd. And well thy gallant sons, Morisma ! gave Their breasts to stem its desolating wave : GRANADA. 8 1 Their's was the frantic hate, the undying will, That thirsted less to conquer than to kill; The fell revenge, that ask'd no second strife, The scorn that fled not with the fleeting life. Yet all were vain ! What boots it now to tell How the Goth triumph 'd, and the Moslem fell ? Mourn in thy widowhood, Morisma ! mourn Thy sceptre wrested, and thy banner torn ; Queen of the west ! the unbeliever now Hath rent the crown of beauty from thy brow : The stranger lords it o'er thy prostrate line, The Christian worships at thy conquer'd shrine : Thy warrior sons are slain in nameless strife, Or live to curse the bitterness of life. Scorn'd, like the Jew of old, they cross the wave, To seek the stranger's heritage a grave ; And oft, perchance, on Afric's desert wide, Whose pillar'd sands upon the whirlwind ride ; Where no glad fountain greets the frenzied eye, And nought is left the wand'rer but to die ; G 82 GRANADA. Shall Mem'ry, strong in death, awake to tell Of that far region which he lov'd so well. Again, oh once again, his cheek is fann'd By the soft breezes of his native land : Again he seems with joyful step to rove Through flow'ry mead and fountain-water 'd grove ; And marks from barren rock or swelling hill The silver windings of the smooth Xenil : Rais'd like the eagle's mountain-nest on high, Each lordly turret flashing to the sky, Hallow'd by minstrel's lyre and warrior's lance, Th' Alhambra rears its palace of romance. On through the spell-bound portal, ere thy tread Wake from their dreamless sleep the kingly dead: Ere yet thy view some fierce enchanter blast, Gaze on the beauteous chambers of the past : For here, 'tis said^ at midnight's spectral hour, Boabdil leads again his vanquish'd pow'r ; With meteor pennon streaming to the gale, His warriors march beneath the moonbeam pale : GRANADA. 83 From haunted rock and fairy cavern freed, Flashes the sword, and starts the foaming steed; Bright waves the plume o'er many a crest of gold, On high the banner spreads its silken fold ; But yet no sound is there no footsteps fall, To wake the echoes of that peopled hall : From each unstirring lip no gather'd breath Breaks forth to mar the mockery of death. Oh yes, if mem'ry lives beyond the tomb, Unquench'd, unconscious of the body's doom ; If from the darkling vault and narrow urn To each lov'd haunt the spirit may return ; Here would thy soul, Boabdil, linger yet, Still forc'd to love, still pow'rless to forget ; For ne'er did painter's skill, or poet's dream, Fancy's wrapt gaze, or Hope's prophetic gleam Not that bold seer 1 who view'd with mortal eye His saints' eternal mansions in the sky Shape out more beauty for heav'n's distant sphere, Than man hath rais'd in earthly triumph here. Mahomet. G 2 84 GRANADA. Its courts are silent now the wise, the brave, The sceptred despot, and the kneeling slave ; The beauteous forms, that like a vision stray'd, Haunting the lone Zenanah's blissful shade ; All all are gone for ever : cold and mute Sleeps the glad music of Zorayda's lute. Hush'd is each fount that warbled as it fell, Like prison'd syren whisp'ring o'er her spell, And bright no more the shaken blossoms fling Their wonted fragrance o'er the zephyr's wing. Lo ! Heav'n's avenger ! on his destin'd way Rushes the Goth to scatter and to slay And none may wait his coming all are fled, Save the weak dying, and the ghastly dead. The sun had set, but still his ling'ring beam Dwelt in the cloud, and danced upon the stream : Slept in calm beauty on the mountain's brow, And touch 'd with checquer'd light the forest bough. The sun had set no breeze was heard to sigh Through the deep azure of the tranquil sky : GRANADA. 85 No wayward ripple crisp'd the silent rill, But Nature smil'd in gladness and was still. Earth hath its calm the tempests have their sleep, But man must wake, that fellow men may weep. Charter'd through life to torture or to bear, He only knows no respite from despair. Hark to that cry, whose feebly-echoed wail Swells on the death-like stillness of the vale ; Reft of his friends, unnotic'd by the foe, Boabdil wends his pilgrimage of woe. With no unmanly tear, without a groan, The warrior prince had left his fallen throne : He could not wait the victor's courteous wile, Or bend to woo compassion's tardy smile : He could not see the proud invader roam Through the lov'd chambers of his palace home. No stranger's eye should view, no tongue should tell The piercing anguish of that wild farewell Which nature crav'd, as now he stood to cast One burning look, the longest, and the last. 86 GRANADA. Fair was the scene ! eve's thousand hues of light Bath'd the wide Vega's garden of delight : Its green bank curtain'd by the blushing rose, The winding streamlet wander'd to repose : Through groves of balm the waken'd zephyr play'd, And aye some fountain sparkled from their shade ; While far beyond, the lov'd Alhambra lay, Shrin'd in the dying lustre of the day. Is it the damp of eve, whose misty veil Hangs like a wreath upon the viewless gale ? Is it some meteor beam, or heav'n-lit star, Whose fiery radiance flashes from afar ? Hence 'tis the volleying peal that roars to tell The scornful triumph of the infidel. He heard till now despair had never wrung Tear from his eye, or murmur from his tongue ; But now it might not be the pow'rless mind Bent like a reed beneath the rushing wind : In vain the quiv'ring lip would falter still One stoic word, that mocks the speaker's will. GRANADA. 87 " Allah Akbar ! " ' away ! that gushing tear Speaks from the heart What doth the exile here ? Loud is the wail through yon despairing town, And chang'd the scene beneath a tyrant's frown : Sunk is the daring glance, whose vengeful glow Once lower 'd in fierceness on the coming foe ; Crushed the proud soul, and chain'd the patriot hand, Which pois'd the spear, or sway'd the battle-brand ; And o'er the conquer'd mosque's converted dome The worshipp'd cross hath found its changeless home; While far beneath, the waning crescent lies, A rayless outcast from its native skies. 1 While he yet looked, a light cloud of smoke burst forth from the citadel: and presently a peal of artillery, faintly hearfl, told that the city was taken possession of, and that the throne of the Moslem kings was lost for ever. The heart of Boabdil, softened by misfortunes, and overcharged with grief, could no longer contain itself : " Allah Akbar !" God is great! said he; but the words of resignation died upon his lips, and he burst into a flood of tears. Irving's Conquest of Granada. GRANADA. In the deserted dwelling of the strong The peaceful hermit chaunts his matin song ; And where the Hararn frown'd, the Convent rears Its house of mourning^ and its home of tears. Oh woman I not for thee the living tomb, The Haram's splendour, or the Convent's gloom : Not thine to bend at fear's unhallow'd nod, And scorn the world, to please creation's God : To see, to feel, that earth, that life is fair, Yet weep to think thou hast no portion there 1 No, child of joy ! a holier task is thine, A brighter prospect, and a purer shrine. J Tis thine to curb the passions' madd'ning sway, And wipe the mourner's bitter tear away : 'Tis thine to soothe, when hope itself has fled, And cheer with angel smile the suff'rer's bed : To give to earth its charm, to life its zest, One only task to bless, and to be blest. Weep, Islam ! weep, thy Koran's sainted page Hath felt the bigot Goth's fanatic rage. GRANADA. 89 And came he then with pitying hand to bring A holier worship from a purer spring ? Came he with lowly step, and soothing voice, To aid the humble, bid the weak rejoice ? To bid the haughty spirit's strength be bow'd, Raise up the feeble, and abash the proud ? Oh no ! in earthly guise the teacher came, With robe of crimson, and with scourge of flame ! His the tremendous creed which sought to tear Faith from defiance, worship from despair. And his th' infuriate pride, which lov'd to strain Belief from writhing lip and throbbing brain. Stern Persecution stood, with iron smile, To ply the rack, or light the ready pile : And as she watch 'd her tortur'd victim bleed, Held mercy's cross to consecrate the deed ! And is it thus, dread Father ? can it be That man should frame an ofFring meet for thee ? Is thine ear gladden'd by thy creature's cry ? Is murder foul no more to Mercy's eye I 90 GRANADA. And was it thus the Shepherd brought of old His wand'ring flock to their deserted fold ? Not such thy coming when the promis'd light Shall scare with seraph wing the fleeting night : When through the waken'd earth thy cross shall win Its bloodless triumph o'er defeated sin. Then at the fulness of appointed time Earth's every race shall flock from every clime. E'en now they come through each resounding shore A voice hath fjbld that sin shall be no more. From the far regions of the frozen north The fur-clad chieftain leads his myriads forth : And by the dark Savannah's lonely side The warrior Indian vails his stoic pride. Lo ! Hagar's offspring, doom'd no more to roam, List the glad sound, and leave their desert home ; And rous'd from Ganges' God-deserted stream, The Brahmin turns to hail a holier beam. Forc'd by no torture, aw'd not by the sword, The Moslem leaves for aye his prophet lord ; And see, repentant Israel bows her down To Him, who wore of old her martyr crown. GRANADA. 9 1 Till, from one mighty tongue, the mingled pray'r Swells in glad homage through the silent air ; And nations join in one adoring cry, The earth their altar, and their shrine the sky. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF YOUNG LAMBTON. REPRINTED FROM THE TIMES. 1832. THOU'RT gone I cannot weep for thee, thou bright and beauteous boy ! Thou'rt gone e'er manhood's tear could mar the fulness of thy joy, E'er dark affliction's storm had lower'd o'er youth's un- troubled sea, Thy bark has anchor'd in the port I cannot weep for thee ! ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF YOUNG LAMBTON. 93 Thy beauty was not of the earth that face was heav'nly fair, But who could trace th' unholy mark of mortal passion there ? I would not have thee linger on till worldliness should shed Its furrow'd wrinkle o'er thy brow I joy that thou art dead ! Thou hast not felt the guilty pang that waken'd conscience brings, The deadly chill that time can throw around all earthly things ; Around thee love and friendship shone in fancy's glitt'ring dress, Why should'st thou live for years to prove their utter nothingness. Thou'rt gone but he who sits on high to pity and to save Shall call thee from thy quiet sleep triumphant o'er the grave. Yet all in vain my stoic vow for if a tear there be Within this cold and cheerless heart that tear shall flow for thee ! TO THE BRIDESMAID WEEPING, 1832. WEEP on ! weep on ! thy future tears Shall not be like to this ; To thee they bring relief but years Shall rob them of their bliss. The dew that gems the op'ning flow'r Reflects the morning ray- Go seek it at the sultry hour ! Hath it not pass'd away? And thus shall future passion quell Each tear that fain would spring, And thou shalt sink beneath its spell, Like flowret withering. OH ! TAKE AGAIN THY COSTLY GIFT. 1833. OH ! take again thy costly gift, take back thy proffer'd vow, Love dwells not in the broken heart I may not listen now ; A fearful bridegroom waits for me, and with him I must wed ; I haste within the grave to hold my bridal with the dead. Go seek a heart whose ev'ry throb from sorrow's weight is free, But breathe not in the ear of death such fearful mockery ; 96 OH ! TAKE AGAIN THY COSTLY GIFT. Trust not my cheek corruption's worm is preying on its bloom ; Seek not my love its earliest vow was plighted to the tomb. To me life is a passing dream of hopelessness and dread, I seem to drain a poison'd cup whose bitterness has fled ; How often have I long'd in vain for that eternal sleep, Where mortal sorrow mourneth not, and woe forgets to weep ! Then shed no tear for one who died in life's unclouded morn, For if I have not pluck 'd the rose, I have not felt the thorn. I look to Him who dwells above in mercy and in might, For He who laid the burden on can make that burden light. SONG OF THE SEA ELVES. 1832. SILENTLY, silently, over the sea, The vesper breeze is blowing Silently, silently, over the sea, Our faery barque is going. We hoist no sail to the dying gale, We have no helm to guide ; But we whisper our spell to those who dwell Beneath that sunless tide. Our wayward course where'er we roam By starlike eyes is lit ; Our barque is of the ocean foam, The tempest fashion'd it. 98 SONG OF THE SEA ELVES. We greet with a song, as we pass along, The mariner Nautilus, In his ship of pearl the sail he must furl, For he dare not cope with us. For ours is ev'ry coral cave That shines beneath the sea ; Within the chambers of the wave Aristocrats are we ! Our faery zone with pearls is strown, And tiny foambells gem, When they sparkle bright in the pale moonlight, Our elfin diadem. Our robe is of the rising mist, Dyed red in morning's ray ; Our small feet which the waves have kiss'd Are sandal'd by the spray. SONG OF THE SEA ELVES. 99 The waves that leap wild o'er the deep Our nimble playmates be ; And the distant wail of the dying gale Our ocean melody. H 2 ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF THE REV. W. BURY, LATE TUTOR AT WINCHESTER. 1830. TWAS whisper'd round a deadly chill smote on the list'ning ear, A vague presentiment of ill, a feeling worse than fear Few were the words, yet something seem'd to check the hearer's breath, The voice was low, but yet methought its argument was death. He could not live-* the icy hand of death was on his brow, The grisly mower's scythe had laid the youthful flow'ret low ; He could not live the tide of life was ebbing fast away, E'en as that drooping flowret sinks beneath the summer ray. ELEGY. 101 At length in accents low and deep the fearful tidings came, And meek affection falter'd forth the well-remember'd name ; Tho' few and simple were the words that youthful pity said, They smote upon the hearer's heart " Poor fellow, he is dead !" The Christian's creed may point above to realms beyond the sky, But still it is a dreadful thing for one so young to die When hope's gay prospects brighten round our little life to bless, Oh ! who may drink that cup of woe in all its bitterness. He did not shrink all holy, then, and calm was his despair, That radiant smile was on his face that faith may only wear; And e'en in death a transient fire was lighted in his eye, As if it hail'd the op'ning view of immortality. TO WHEN the moon is softly stealing Thro' her bright path in the sky, And evening dew like tears of feeling Sparkles in each flow'ret's eye Oh ! then I'll think of thee ! When the lightning flash is gleaming Through my torn and riven sail,- Wilder yet and wilder streaming 'Mid the tempest's angry wail Oh ! still I'll think of thee ! When the goblet's light is shining From its beacon in the eye, And mirth her rosy chaplet twining, Bids each cloud of sorrow fly Oh ! then I'll think of thee ! 103 But wilt thou, when thoughts of gladness Brightly in thy bosom swell, Wilt thou, when the tears of sadness Drop from mem'ry's silent cell, S ay __ w ilt thou think of me ? ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF AND this is fame ! so fondly sought when life has pass'd away, To be the thoughtless idler's jest, the topic of a day ; And thus it is death's icy touch can loose the magic spell Of him whose mem'ry claims a tear from those he lov'd so well. The fool may jest, the heartless laugh, the idler say his say, Or rake each fault from out the tomb, and mock the buried clay ; Thine ear is cold the voice * of blame is all unheeded now, But yet methinks some other hand should deal the deadly blow ! ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF . 105 Shall man recal thy sinful deeds from that unseen abode, Where they in trembling hope await the fiat of thy God ? They shall appear when flesh shall kneel before its Saviour's feet, And man confront his fellow-man around the judgment seat. One simple wreath the muse shall twine around thy lowly bier, And drop from pity's hallow'd source aifection's artless tear ; Amid the gay deluded crowd, th' unfeeling, and the free, One heart not all corrupt shall keep a treasur'd sigh for thee. HAPPINESS. TWAS but a gleam of hope descending, A meteor light that quickly fled One happy flow'r its bright hues blending With the dark garland of the dead. FORGETFULNESS. 1830. FORGETFULNESS ! Forgetfulness ! when wilt thou come to me? Thou only rest to which at length my wearied soul may flee; Can mercy dwell for such as I in yonder peaceful heav'n ? Alas ! my sins are numberless they cannot be forgiv'n ! FORGETFULNESS. 1 07 Forgetfulness ! Forgetfulness ! I've sought thee far und wide, But aye the busy fiend remorse was waiting at my side ; I've sought thee 'mid the joyous throng, the thoughtless, and the free Alas ! that ill-dissembled joy was pain and grief to me. Within the rustic's lowly cot I sought thy secret spell, I sought thee in the tented field, ihe hermit's sainted cell. Forgetfulness ! Forgetfulness ! to thee alone I pray The weight of guilt is on my soul oh take that weight away ! Go bow thee down before thy God, for he alone can save ; Forgetfulness thou soon shalt find, she sleeps within the grave; Thy grief shall be a sacrifice to Him who dwells in heav'n, And though thy sins be numberless, they all shall be forgiv'n ! WOMAN'S LOVE. " THE brightest and best of the sons of the morning"* May wane in their beauty, and meteor-like fall ; The bright sun of Heav'n may be dimm'd in his dawning, But woman's affection is stronger than all ! When the storm of affliction is lowering around us, It gleams like a star on the far-rolling wave ; When the chain of oppression or slav'ry has bound us, It soothes our existence or hallows our grave. The friendship of man 'tis a transient emotion, The child of deception a thing of to-day ; Like the snow-wreath that falls on the breast of the ocean, 'Tis seen for a moment then passes away. * This verse is almost copied from a hymn of Heber's. WOMAN'S LOVE. 109 " The brightest and best of the sons of the morning" May wane in their beauty, and meteor-like fall ; The bright sun of Heav'n may be dimm'd in his dawning, But woman's affection is stronger than all ! THE MURDERER. 1831. TALK not to me of hope above, talk not to me of pray 'r ; I have no hope I look'd to heav'n, but found no mercy there ! Then tell me not of him who died God's own begotten Son, His blood would fail to wash away the deed that I have done. There is no madness on me now, but like a fiery rain Delirium's wild unearthly thoughts come rushing o'er my brain ; The gulph of hell is yawning wide ! its red light fires mine eye, Its darkness dwells within my soul ! Oh God, I cannot die! THE MURDERER. 1 1 1 It is a lone and aged man that kneels beside him now, The prison light is streaming o'er his calm uplifted brow ; He talks of that celestial gate where mercy doth abide, And of the felon who with Christ was saved and crucified. E'en as a reed his spirit bow'd all meek and broken there, One gleam of hope had flash'd across the blackness of despair. He felt as he had felt in youth, when heav'n above him smil'd, And as he sank upon his knees wept like a weaned child. CONSUMPTION, 1831. I KNEW I knew it was not health which gave that hectic bloom, Yet could I think that roseate hue the herald of the tomb? I did not trust the transient fire that sparkled in her eye, Yet could I think that one so bright, so beautiful, must die? I dar'd not whisper to myself the fear that o'er me came ! Was it the failing source of life which fed that fatal flame ? A liquid light was in her eye that mock'd her shortened breath, Was it the fire that gleams within the charnel vault of death ? CONSUMPTION. 113 But she would faintly smile, and try to soothe my chilling fear, And talk of home and happier hours, and wipe the falling tear. I knew I felt that all was false but how could I despair ? My soul was sad, but Hope had fix'd her last frail watch- light there. But soon, alas ! that fitful dream of hope had pass'd away! Oh, God ! that such a beauteous thing should be the earthworm's prey ! I felt her quiv'ring pulse subside, I mark'd her failing breath ; I saw the last faint smile depart and knew that this was death ! PARAPHRASE OF A PASSAGE IN THE HIPPOLYTUS. 1833. Phcedra. Upraise my head, ye virgins ! let me feel The fanning breeze along my temples steal. Support each languid arm, whose withering chill Droops all unconscious of the pow'rless will. Unbind yon jewell'd braid its silken strain Sits like a weight upon my throbbing brain. And let each golden tress with wilder flow Float in glad freedom o'er my breast below. Nurse. Be calm, my child ; each restless thought re- strain Impatience will not mitigate thy pain. Life's cup is brimm'd with woe, and happiest they Who drink, yet smile its bitterness away. PARAPHRASE. 115 Phaedra. Oh ! that I were by some bright fountain's side, Whose waters make sweet music as they glide ! To drink with parched lip its crystal dew, Till e'en my soul should taste its coolness too ; Or where the yielding Dryad spreads on high, Sport of the winds, her leafy canopy Upon whose grassy bed Nurse. Hold ! hold, my child ! What means this maniac speech, that eye so wild Peace ! for each frenzied wish thou speak'st aloud Would pass for madness with the list'ning crowd. Phosdra. Haste to the mountain haste ! again Til rove With joyful step beneath its arching grove. By heav'n I long to join the sylvan fray, And cheer my gallant bloodhounds to their prey, To hurl the steel along my flowing hair, And track the wounded victim to its lair. 116 PARAPHRASE. Nurse. What words are these ? Not thine the hunts- man's toil, Not thine the forest life or sylvan spoil. But if, e'en now, thy fever'd lip should crave To quaff the virgin streamlet's glassy wave, Thou know'st the fount whose friendly waters glide Where thou may'st taste them by yon turret's side. Phcedra. Queen of the waveless strand, Diana ! hear, Thou who do'st urge the youthful charioteer ! Would that I were in some sequester'd mead, Taming with thee each wild Venetian steed. Nurse. Is it some spell whose impulse o'er thee cast, Frames each new wish more frantic than the last ? Now to the forest borne thou long'st to rove, A sylvan huntress thro' its arching grove ; And now to guide, with inexperienc'd hand, Thy foaming coursers o'er the waveless strand. In sooth 'twere worthy of some augur's skill To trace thy mystic origin of ill ; PARAPHRASE. 117 For sure some God, exulting in thy pain, Sheds this delirium o'er thy wilder'd brain. Phcedra. Ah me ! what have I said while reason's light Was quench 'd ? Oh blame me not, in passion's night What have I done ? What frenzied acts that spring From out the spirit's sinful wandering ? My thoughts ! some demon prompts them as they roll With more than madness o'er my tortur'd soul. Hide, hide my face ! I blush that thou hast heard Each wild unholy thought that passion stirr'd Quick ! hide thy daughter's shame, that none may see The gushing tear that trickles silently. ODE ADDRESSED TO THE THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON, IN THE THEATRE AT OXFORD, JUNE, 1834. Marshal, demand of yonder Champion The cause of his arrival here in arms. Shakespear. DEAR to the warrior is the proud array Of banner'd hosts impatient for the fray. Deep rapture dwelleth in the battle strife To him to all, that reck not of their life ; As on with reeking flank, and nostril wide, Wildly the war-steed dashes in his pride ; Sharp rings the steel on many a mailed breast. Yet proudly still the warrior's streaming crest, ODE. 119 White as the foam wind-sever'd from the wave, Floats o'er the surge-like conflux of the brave. Yes, it is sweet though Freedom's blood may flow, Fame follows still to sanctify the blow ; And Glory's star, more bright amid the gloom, Hallows alike the trophy and the tomb. But holier, sweeter far, the tranquil bliss Breath'd o'er his spirit in an hour like this ; When from his brow the helm is laid aside, And peace hath robb'd his bosom of its pride ; When in the courts of Honour's crowded hall, For him glad thousands hold their festival ; When Science welcomes back her warrior son, And Wisdom twines the wreath by Valour won ; When myriad lips, responsive to the swell Of the full heart, his praise in thunder tell ; And Beauty's eye, more eloquently grave, Sends down its silent greeting to the brave : When they the good, whose love is more than fame, Spread that best, brightest halo round his name : 120 ODE. And, like a stream, the glad song rushes free, Flinging its scanty tribute to the sea ; Moves not that peaceful throng his spirit more Than War's death- waking trump or Battle's onward roar? Welcome ! thrice welcome to our festive hall ! The breast that aye was bar'd at Honour's call Should shine in Honour's garb the arm that drew Stern Freedom's brand, should share her beauty too ! Welcome ! what other gift can Learning bring ? What wreath unworn is left her yet to fling ? Thine own strong hand hath grasp'd the laurel bough, Shall others twine the olive for thee now ? No Roman pageant claims thee as its part, Thine is the bloodless triumph of the heart. Thou need'st no venal eye thy spoils to scan, No hireling lip to whisper, " Thou art Man." ' 1 Alluding to the slave who sate behind the Roman conqueror in his triumphal car, to remind him that, amid his glory, he was but man. ODE. 121 Thine is a praise not heard but felt afar, Like the still song of some earth-worshipp'd star : Thine is the deathless hymn of onward time ; Thine is a mingled wreath from many a clime. There, like a sister, Gallia's lily glows In holy union with the Island rose ; And, cloth'd in beauty, India's lotus blue Flings o'er each drooping flower its treasur'd dew : There, trampled oft, but strong to bloom again, Lives the torn branch of liberated Spain ; And Lusitania's laurel, snatch'd before Its wonted green was dyed in kindred gore. Such was thy chaplet but a brighter now Leaves the cold helm to live upon thy brow ; With greener leaf, and brighter flowers than they, Though sought in danger, found amid the fray : A wreath unstain'd by blood, undimm'd by tears, Snatch'd not from death, unwithering with years. A civic crown for him, who, doubly brave, Rush'd on to slay- then turn'd again to save ; Who, in the senate, firm as in the field, Alike in both unpractised how to yield, 122 ODE - First quell'd the foe and, when the fight was done, Upheld that freedom which his sword had won. Well hast thou woo'd, like Pericles of old, Love from the wise, and honour from the bold. Deep hast thou stamp'd in mem'ry's viewless page The warrior's strength, the wisdom of the sage : And now once more in Learning's sacred fane Isis beholds another Warrior reign. Where iron Cromwell, erst with zealot sway, S natch 'd her torn wreath, her sceptre rent away, A nobler guest, a spirit mightier yet, Sunlike repairs the splendour that has set ; And flings far o'er thy stream its orient ray, Bright with the cloudless promise of the day. Long be that day ! and still may Isis see Her Guide, her Champion, Warrior ! in thee. Long may her sons, from Learning's classic grove, Around thee throng to honour and to love. The helm may rust, the laurel bough may fade, Oblivion's grasp may blunt the Victor's blade, ODE 123 But that bright, holy wreath which Learning gives, Untorn by hate, unharm'd by envy, lives Lives through the march of Tempest and of Time, Dwells on each shore, and blooms in every clime : Wide as the space that fills yon airless blue, Pure as the breeze, and as eternal too, Fair as the night-star's eve-awaken'd ray, But with no morn to chase its fires away. 'Tis thine ! 'tis thine ! behold, far-flashing now, Its guardian flame burns brightly o'er thy brow That Vestal flame which Learning loves to shed O'er thk undying memory of the dead, Anticipates the tomb, and poureth free Its living lustre, WELLINGTON, for thee ! THE END. MARCHANT, PlilNTER, IlSGRAM-COtIRT YC177253 AMPHLET BINDER Syracuse, N. Y Stockton, Calif.