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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 
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 VOICE OF THE HEART. 
 
 -^"^m 
 
 K^ 

 
 <:, 
 
 ^oice of tf)e Heart ; 
 
 A WIFE'S LOVE-OFFERING. 
 
 ANNA GIBBS. 
 
 PRINTED FOR FAMILY DONATION. 
 
 i860. 
 
 1-^ 
 
 , uiimiimii J. ^. i.if i'lVW'""" '^ .»iiiii. . ^ .11111111. /^ ■■■■■. ■ — .... . ^.. . >.- ■ t 1 T - ■ ■■ ' —
 
 
 TO 
 
 MY BELOVED HUSBAND, 
 
 IN THANKFUL REMEMBRANCE OF THE 
 
 HAPPY PAST, 
 
 AND IN HOPEFUL EXPECTATION OF A 
 
 BLISSFUL FUTURE, 
 
 THESE SIMPLE RECORDS OF THE HEART, 
 
 BEFORE AND AFTER MARRIAGE, 
 
 ARE AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 INSCRIBED. 
 
 ANNA GIBBS. 
 
 853114
 
 /., 
 
 ^r.--^--<!l-^^fi^. 
 
 £..
 
 3(of)n (Stbbs.
 
 Contents, 
 
 Page 
 
 ^^O J. G. In Reply to Tome Verfes . i 
 
 " To J. G 5 
 
 To J. G. A Reply 8 
 
 To my Dear Hu(band,on his Birth- 
 
 h9 II 
 
 To my Hufband, on the fiift Anniverfary of our 
 
 Wedding-Day 17 
 
 To my beloved Hufband, on his Birthday . . 23 
 To my Hulband, on the Third Anniverfary of 
 
 our Marriage 26 
 
 To my Dear Hufband, on his Birthday ... 30 
 Thoughts in anticipation of our Fourth Wed- 
 ding-Day 32 
 
 Impromptu 35 
 
 Impromptu 37 
 
 To my ever Dear Hufband, on his Birthday . 38 
 
 My Hufband's Birthday 41 
 
 To my Hufband, on our Fifth Wedding-Day 43 
 
 To my Dear Hufband, on his Birthday ... 49 
 
 Anniverfary of our Wedding-Day .... 52 
 
 Impromptu Lines 55
 
 31lluflrationg» 
 
 HOTOGRAPHof Mrs, Gibbsand her 
 Children, from an Oil Painting by 
 Bona.vi3., facing title. 
 Photograph of Mrs. Gibbs, from a 
 
 Cameo by Saulini, on title, 
 Facfimile of Mrs, Gibbs' Handwriting, in Litho- 
 graph, 
 Engraving of Arms of Mr, Gibbs. 
 Photograph of Mr, Gibbs, from a Drawing by 
 
 Bonzv'ia, facing p. i. 
 Photograph of Mrs. Gibbs' Sifter, the late Chriftiana 
 
 Skelton, from an Oil Painting in the poffeffion of 
 
 Gen. Count Grohen, facing p. 17. 
 Photographs of Mrs. Gibbs' Children, Louifa Chrif- 
 
 tina Waldegrave Gibbs, and Anna Maria Selma 
 
 Gibbs, from a Drawing by Bonavia,_/«a»^/>. 39. 
 Photograph of Mrs. Gibbs, from a Drawing by 
 
 BonRvia, facing p. 4.3. 
 Photographs of Mrs. Gibbs' Parents, the late Mr. 
 
 and Mrs, Mark Skelton, from Miniatures by 
 
 Hargreaves, Cen., facing p. 45, 
 Photograph of Mr. Gibbs, from an Oil Painting 
 
 by Bon3.vm, facing p. 55. 
 Arms of Mrs. Gibbs, on laji page.
 
 annitional JIHufirations. 
 
 : HOTOGR APH of Louifa Chrlftina Wal- 
 degrave Glbbs, from a Pencil Drawing 
 by her Aunt, Maria, wife of General C. 
 R, W. Lane, C.B., facing p. 23. 
 
 Photograph of Anna Maria Selma Gibbs, from 
 a Pencil Drawing by ^onzv'iz, facing p. 49. 
 
 The Photographs arely Ayks and Bonni^ell.
 
 OBjctra 3Uuflration. 
 
 ;H0T0GRAPH of Mrs. Gibbs' Sifters, 
 the late Martha Frances Skelton and 
 Chriftiana Skelton, from an oil-painting 
 by Mrs, G'lhhs, facing p. 4.7.
 
 Co % <3. 31n IRcpIp to fomc 
 
 Chartreufe de Pefio, Auguft, 184.8. 
 
 j^iprvf HOSE words of thine have cajl: a 
 ^^ Ipark, 
 
 jIj a burning /park, within my 
 breajl ; 
 Each jlrugghng jigh but fans the flame. 
 Each hour increajes its unrcjl. 
 
 Thoje words of thine, they wake a tone. 
 Within this heart, that will not Jleep ; 
 
 They whijper of a long-Jbught home 
 E'en here, beneath the Jlarry deep. 
 
 Beyo7id, I deem'd it jble for me, 
 
 Amid the fpirits of the blcjl ; 
 ThoJe words of thine, they lure a hope 
 
 I 3'et on earth might find a rcji.
 
 Fallacious hope ! O why dojl thou, 
 'Midjl dying embcrS cajl a gleam ? 
 
 Recall them fajl, thoje words of thine, 
 In vain their glow, in vain their theme ! 
 
 In vain thine earthly fire would Jlrive 
 To live amidjl my dark'ning night ; 
 
 In vain thy fpirit's flame would glow 
 'MidJl Jhadows which reflet no light. 
 
 A Jlormy flood, both dark and deep, 
 Divides our pilgrim paths below ; 
 
 I tremble, but I dare not weep, — 
 My God hath Jaid, — it mujl be Jo. 
 
 And deem not that in angry wrath 
 
 That mandate from on high hath /ped ; 
 
 'Twill cajl a light upon thy path 
 
 When I am number'd with the dead. 
 
 My feeble voice to Hcav'n ajpires. 
 
 It pleads for thee : — " O, Thou great 
 Power, 
 
 Thy fiat change^ ox be it fraught 
 
 With merc}^, 'gainjl the judgment hour ! "
 
 i5. 
 
 To thee, O may the gloom reveal, 
 
 Whatever be our final goal, 
 A Polar Star amidjl the night 
 
 Which now invades thyjlorm-tojs'd jbul. 
 
 And, when all borrow'd lights are /pent, 
 One lamp o'er thee may conjlant Jhinc, 
 
 As lightning play'd around the crojs. 
 All dark bejides that flajh divine. 
 
 My cheek is pale, and eyes are dim 
 With Jbrrow, Jadnejs, and with tears, 
 
 To think, perchance with pain thou'lt read 
 This page of life, in after years. 
 
 O child of little faith ! reflet 
 
 Whoje hand it is that leadcth thee ! 
 
 Who brought thee here to croJs his path, 
 And Jpcak of immortality ? 
 
 As bond of this, then, take and keep 
 The little boon * thou dojl demand ; 
 
 If part we mujt, "twill bid thee think,— 
 Beyond, lies the far promis'd land. 
 
 * A lock of hair.
 
 That all our jleps may thither tend, 
 
 My orijbns to One Jhall rije, 
 Whoje grace our vagrant wills can bend 
 
 To hopes above theje Jtormy Jkies. 
 
 The thought is wild, that we may part 
 To meet no more on Time's dim verge ; 
 
 Then, Lord of mercy, guide our paths, 
 That one, in Thee, at lajl they merge ! 
 
 But if our pilgrim jlcps might blend 
 In Jbrrow, hope, and thankful joy. 
 
 Then, Lord of glory, dwell with us. 
 And grant us peace without alloy !
 
 HE parting hour, the long farewell 
 s is near. 
 
 '^l 
 
 1^ And though it ill bejeem my 
 maiden pride, 
 'Twerevain attempt to quell the Jiarting tear, 
 Nor could thy noble mind that tear deride. 
 
 When firjl we met, I deem'd my God ere 
 this, 
 Had call'd me from this fuff'ering world 
 away ; 
 That one lov'd mourner my clofed eyes 
 would kijs. 
 As jhe on my lajl couch my head would 
 lay. 
 
 All earth's bejl joys had fled, or lojl their zejl. 
 One languid ray fole glimmer'd from afar ; 
 
 m^mw-^^mmr^(i.;s^^m^s&^
 
 But that pale beam nor light nor warmth 
 pojjefs'd, 
 As 'mid dark wintry night, one dijlant 
 jtar; 
 
 For Jlcknejs o'er each charm had thrown its 
 pall; 
 The one Jad ray by deathlejs hope was 
 Jhed 
 Beyond the op'ning tomb's myjlerious thrall; 
 But Jhniles, tears, joy — all life clings to — 
 had fled. 
 
 The Jultry hour of fever's night is pajl ; 
 The gelid touch of Death chills me no 
 more ; 
 My pulje beats warm, and fond, and fajl ; 
 My heart owns life may yet have much in 
 jlore. 
 
 My fpirit bounds to impuljcs divine. 
 
 My Jbul rejponds to thrilling harmony ; 
 
 Again I kneel with fervour at that jhrine 
 Where Jujlice Jmiles, and kijQfes Charit3^
 
 5&^ 
 
 Then Hcav'n blcjs the hand to whom 'twas 
 
 given, 
 To lead me back to hope, and life, and 
 
 love ; 
 To jbothe and cheer a breajl by tempcjls 
 
 riven. 
 And raije, on rapture's wings, my thanks 
 
 above. 
 
 Yes ! blejs thee, God, thy lot vvhate'er it be ; 
 
 And grant thee painlejs memories of one, 
 
 Whoje life-blood, could it blejs, would flow 
 
 for thee. 
 
 When Jlcep, or pray'r, or woe, find thee 
 
 alone !
 
 Co 31* <^. 3 laeplp. 
 
 Turin, Thurfday Night, 12th Oaober, 1848. 
 
 YES ! I tremble when acrojs my 
 path, 
 Some kindred Jpirit wings its 
 daring flight, 
 And blindly yields its yearnings — all it 
 hath — 
 Fearlefs to Jhare a Jijler Jpirit's blight ; 
 I tremble when it yields unto the jpell, 
 The fpell divine, which Jleals from that 
 J\vcet found, 
 Rejponjlvc, jbul-Jiruck chords fo wildly 
 fling; 
 
 I tremble when the blajl I could not quell 
 Drives clofe and fond thoje tendrils frail to 
 cling,
 
 Which hearts of foftejl mould entwine 
 
 around, 
 Nor rejl until that dear repofe is found. 
 
 yes ! I tremble when my toj[fing bark 
 
 Is hail'd amidjl the tempejls of its track, 
 Di/cover'd by its lajl expiring fpark, 
 
 One ling'ring hope ju/t dying on the rack ; 
 
 1 tremble, when from brighter jeas ejpied, 
 
 Some pajplng jail, by projp'rous breezes 
 
 fann'd. 
 Its funny courje forjakes, to brave and ride 
 The Jlormy deep, which claims my Jinking 
 
 hand ; 
 
 yes ! I tremble, lejl the whirlwind's pow'r 
 That generous, mighty fpirit may engulph ; 
 
 And one dire Jlroke o'erwhelm, in fatal hour, 
 
 God ! the rejcuer and the rejcued both ! 
 
 1 jhudder at the jhock of pajjlon's might ; 
 
 1 tremble, too, at its eledric thrill ; 
 Yet dread to quench its ardours 'midjl my 
 
 night. 
 And tremble more to find its Jlave my will.
 
 O God Almighty and Omnifcient, 
 
 Thou only thefe wild pangs and hopes 
 canjl tell ! 
 Thou only, by Thy pow'r Omnipotent, 
 CanJl, if decreed, lend Jlrength to found 
 their knell !
 
 n 
 
 Co mp Dear ©us&ann, on 610 
 IBixtbM^. 1849. 
 
 If^itb a Guard Chain. 
 
 Nice. 
 
 LITTLE drcam'd, twelve months 
 
 ago, 
 The blijs this morn would bring 
 to me ; 
 I little thought I e'er Jhould know 
 The namelejs joy I owe to thee ! 
 
 To thee, a jlranger then to one, 
 
 Whofe lone jlar far away had gleam'd 
 
 '* O'er court and camp," its courje Jeem'd 
 done. 
 So pale and faint its radiance beam'd.
 
 C-^ I 
 
 For, Jick of its lone orbit bright, 
 
 It jbught commingling beams, to warm 
 
 That lujlre which, [o fair to Jight, 
 
 But wajled life, and bred the Jlorm, — 
 
 That hidden Jlorm — which would not Jleep — 
 
 Of energies all jpent in vain, 
 And unrequited pajjion deep, — 
 
 A life of dreamy toil and pain. 
 
 The jlrife jeem'd hujh'd, the grave was there, 
 Amid its wreaths of Jcented flowers, 
 
 Inviting to jeck rejl from care. 
 
 Through that dark gate to Eden's bow'rs ; 
 
 'Twas in that pauje 'tween life and death, 
 A burning ray Jhot through the gloom, 
 
 Arrejled the fajl- ebbing breath, 
 
 And jhatch'd the vi^lim from the tomb ; 
 
 Divine, it flajh'd from that dear eye. 
 Which open'd firjl to this da^^'s light ; 
 
 It jbught me 'neath a foreign Jky, — 
 It came, and earth again was bright !
 
 ^] 
 
 It came — and it was night no more, — 
 The Jlormy waters vainly raged ; 
 
 My bark had reach'd the figh'd-for jhore, 
 My fpirit's weary wing was caged ; — 
 
 A home the wanderer had found, 
 An Arab home, yet one of rejl ; 
 
 The heart's wild longings all were bound, 
 And anchor'd deep in thy true breajl ; 
 
 Fond nejlled there, I care not how 
 
 The world around me frowns or Jmiles ; 
 
 Fond nejlled there, I heed not now 
 
 Or Time's, or Fortune's freaks and wiles; 
 
 For now, come tears, thy fond, warm kijs 
 Can Jlem at will, their wijlful jlream ; 
 
 And turneth jbrrow into blijs. 
 
 As change oft cometh o'er a dream. 
 
 The foft, warm beams, commingling /weet 
 Of faith and love, Jhed radiance bright 
 
 O'er blended paths, of fpirits meet 
 To wing to God their jbaring flight.
 
 The earthly, godlefs, Jhare not this, 
 Of hopes beyond they nothing know. 
 
 And their poor cup of tranjient blijs 
 Is dajh'd with bitternejs and woe. 
 
 The peace myjlerious, who can tell, 
 
 The crojs, o'er wedded joys, doth fhed ? 
 
 The thrill, the awe, the bliJs, the fpell 
 Which hover round the bridal bed ? 
 
 All theje, through God, I owe to thee — 
 To thee, my lord, my life, my all ; 
 
 And own, by this weak minjlrel/y. 
 That all / am, thou holdjl; in thrall. 
 
 As emblem of a thought too deep 
 For words to fathom or to bind, 
 
 This golden fetter take and keep, 
 
 Nor faithlcjs e'er one link may'jl find ; 
 
 For, wrought by more than human hand, 
 By Him, to whom the Jcraph kneels, 
 
 Is ev'ry link of that bright band 
 
 Which this frail chain to thee reveals.
 
 'Twill Jpeak to thee in hours to come — 
 Though dujl itjelf, true love ne'er dies : 
 
 'Twill tell thee, when thy tajlt is done, 
 That love awaits thee in the Jliies. 
 
 O, hujband dear ! how fond and warm 
 Theje arms I foftly round thee twine, 
 
 And Jhelter Jeek from life's bleak Jlorm 
 At Hymen's calm and hallow'd Jhrine. 
 
 Three moons thy wife, how changed the 
 Jcene ! 
 
 Thoje pining hours are now gone by 
 When lonely haunts I Jbught, to dream. 
 
 Or lay me down, and hoped to die. 
 
 The wand'ring bird has found its nejl:, 
 Nor envieth now the wild beajl's lair ; 
 
 It Jbught to pillow its unrejl 
 
 With one it lov'd, it car'd not where. 
 
 Then take this pleafant thought to mind — 
 'Tis happinejs for Jiich as thee, 
 
 The brave, the noble, true, and kind. 
 The conjlant, daring, fond, and free !
 
 C-~ I 
 
 To feel moji blejl, I need no more 
 Than junjhine in thy manly breajl ; 
 
 And e'en when dark'ning Jhadows lower, 
 When I can cheer, I Jlill am bleJl. 
 
 Enough for me with thee to dwell. 
 Enough to hope, when life is o'er, 
 
 And earth Jhall hear my fun'ral knell, 
 That we Jhall meet to part no more ! 
 
 ^pulivpii^iaSar*'
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 I
 
 
 17 
 
 Co mp ©ufbanti, 
 
 on tlje firft anniterCarp of our 
 Cl)Qletitim0;'-3Dap* 
 
 Nice, 20th January, 1850, 
 
 SAY, my own, mojl lov'd, mojl 
 dear, 
 
 Is wifie's eye lejs Jbft or clear, 
 Her voice lejs fond, and heart lejs warm, 
 Than when jujl frejh from hymen's Jhrine, 
 Her trembling hand clofe prejs'd in thine, 
 Thou faidjl with rapture, " She is mine?''^ 
 
 When Jlorms fwcpt down, and clouds came 
 
 o'er 
 That eye, ^o kindling bright before, 
 O fay, did hers e'er frown on thee ? 
 Or rather did jhe not bemoan 
 She could not make her joys thine own. 
 And weep thy tears, herjelf alone ? 
 
 (km'i
 
 Though jbmetimes dark and overcajl 
 Thy brow, from fierce and hidden blajl, 
 Its Jbmbre hue o'er hers has flung ; 
 O tell me— thrills her kifs the lejs ? 
 Her timid fawn, or wild carejs — 
 Say, have they lojl their fpell to blefs ? 
 
 Is Annie's smile lejs pure and bright, 
 Than when throughout her bridal night 
 With burning blujh it beam'd on thee ? 
 Or have her lips lejs balm to Jbothe ; 
 Her prayer, lejs pow'r the heart to move ; 
 Her ads, her faith and truth to prove ? 
 
 Could all this be, then nought were true ; 
 The wildeji winds that ever blew 
 As foon could chill the Jun's hot flame 
 As time, or Jad behejls, or pain. 
 Could caijje th' immortal love to wane, 
 I vow'd to thee at hymen's fane ! 
 
 But glowing thoughts within me burn. 
 As I, with deep emotion, turn 
 To ajk the Pajl, — and what of thee ? 
 How hajl with Annie's frailties borne,
 
 H 
 
 li^ 
 
 How didjl endure the Judden Jlorm 
 Which darken'd crjl love's rojeate morn ?* 
 
 Ah ! never did I fee thee Jhrink, 
 At God's command, that cup to drink 
 He emptied to the dregs for thee. 
 One year, though oft beneath the rod, 
 Thy jleadfajl: Jbul hath firmly trod 
 The narrow path which leads to God. 
 
 The flujh of love's beatitude, 
 With manly, Chrijlian fortitude. 
 Thou jaw'Jl it cloud, and fade away ; 
 For well thou knew'jl that halcyon light. 
 Though burning paler and lejs bright, 
 Could ne'er go down in Jbrrow's night. 
 
 But let me ajli — art thou lejs kind, 
 
 Devoted lejs in heart and mind. 
 
 Than when at midnight's tolling bell. 
 
 All trembling o'er with love and fear, 
 
 Firjl fell on my enraptur'd ear 
 
 Thofe thrilling words, " O Annie dear ? " 
 
 * The fevere illnel's of my only fider.
 
 Ah ! no, — that dear eye's fervid ray, 
 
 Or bent on me, or raijed to pray, 
 
 Has gain'd one year's intenfity ; 
 
 And 3'et, alas ! it thrice has wept, 
 
 Since love that night his vigil kept. 
 
 The hopes which 'neath this heart have jlept. 
 
 One year th}' loving, faithful breajl 
 Has pillow'd in jvveet hours of rejl. 
 With tender care, thy Annie's brow ; 
 E'en when thy thoughts would vagrant Jlray, 
 And thy jad e3e's averted ray 
 Would bid me weep alone — and pray ! 
 
 Though thunders o'er thy brow have roll'd. 
 And from thy Annie, Jlern and cold, 
 And from her tears, thou'Jl turn'd away. 
 Yet who can Jbund thoje depths of love. 
 Where nejllcs thy fond, timid dove. 
 As 'twere in Eden's bowers above ? 
 
 Until by thee belov'd, carejs'd, 
 Until in thy dear arms fond prejs'd, 
 Though calm and bright her early home, 
 Admir'd and lov'd, — Jhe knew not this.
 
 The deep, fond myjlery of blijs, 
 fMkM Firjl taught her by thy fervid kijs. 
 
 m 
 
 One glance reveal'd it frem afar, 
 
 Each heart confejs'd its guiding jlar, 
 
 And blended in the glowing ray ! 
 
 Since then, though threat'ning clouds may 
 
 lour, 
 How Jweetly time attejls the pow'r. 
 Which watch'd in love, o'er that bright hour. 
 
 This were enough, and yet I dwell 
 On Jcenes of which the magic fpell 
 No words the jecret might can tell ! 
 We've bajk'd in love's divinejl beams. 
 We've bath'd in its elyjian Jlreams, 
 We've realiz'd its wildejl dreams. 
 
 O yes ! we have been truly blejl, 
 [61''^ And though earth yields no perfefi rejl, 
 The peace of heav'n dwells with us here. 
 A joy myjlerious and deep, — 
 Which floods my heart, e'en when I weep, 
 And lulls each najccnt grief to Jleep.
 
 And thus to Thee, my God, I yield 
 The fragrance of this blojjbm'd field- 
 The heart's incenje of gratitude ! 
 And pray may yet one boon be ours- 
 With love's Jweet hymeneal flow'rs, 
 O deck our ebbing courje of hours ! 
 
 And now, with arms around thee twin'd, 
 
 My all-belov'd, devoted, kind, 
 
 I turn from the bright Pajl away, 
 
 As of another year, I greet 
 
 The hopeful dawn with rapture Jweet, 
 
 And Jink in blujhes, at thy feet.
 
 
 ..j(
 
 Co mp tielotieti J^ufbanD on W 
 
 Birthwaite Hall, 25th May, 1851. 
 
 ^ITH thornlejs wreaths of Jcented 
 flow'rs, 
 Frejh cuU'd from love's own fade- 
 less bow'rs, 
 I bind to day my jleeping lyre ; 
 And, O could I attune its pow'rs 
 To what this heart would fain injpire, 
 Enwrapt, 'twould burjl in chords of fire, 
 And, Jvvanlike, in high fong expire ; 
 Awake, once more, awake, my lyre ! 
 
 O yes ! my own, I Jlill am thine, 
 Still beats for thee, this heart of mine,
 
 mm 
 
 Thou lord of all it is, or hath ; 
 
 I thought May's fejlive Jun might jhine 
 
 Upon thy lonel}^, widow'd path ; 
 
 Whereas new bloJ]bms now entwine 
 
 Our bli/sful, hymeneal Jhrine, 
 
 And Annie jlill is thine, is thine ! 
 
 Acrofs the heart's unfathom'd deep, 
 New tones their jlirring accents Jweep ; 
 For nejlled 'neath the parent Jlem, 
 With untold charms yet lock'd in jleep, 
 There gleams a fair, immortal gem — 
 Th' embodied fpark of thy dear kifs ; 
 For future worlds, as well as this. 
 The jubjlance of our hopes and blijs. 
 
 May God's own grace empow'r thee here, 
 Thy precious, hcav'n-bound freight to jleer 
 Life's rough and dang'rous waters o'er ; 
 Yet wifie lives, thy toil to cheer : 
 And when her voice is heard no more. 
 Perhaps in Jbme long after year, 
 Thou'lt jlill, repelling mem'ry's tear, 
 Exclaim, " O Annie, Annie dear !"
 
 Yes ! Jbund thy lajl, my childhood's lyre, 
 To Jlrains too high thou wouldjl ajpire ; 
 Thy early blojQoms all are Jhed, 
 Thou'Jl Jung the lover, bridegroom, Jlre, 
 Thou'Jl fung Jweet hopes too early fled. 
 Thy tones fond Hng'ring round their pyre ; 
 And though of my lov'd lord and head 
 To fweep thy chords I ne'er could tire, 
 Thou anjwrejl not my fond dejire, — 
 Thus Jbund thy lajl farewell, my lyre ! 
 
 -!^:^^^^^^W^ 
 
 ^^
 
 26 
 
 Co mp ©uftjanti on tfte Cftirt 
 
 ^ntiitiecrarp of ouc Sl^arn'age. 
 
 London, 20th Jan. 1851. 
 
 " DEAREST life," on this blejl 
 
 day 
 My heart were e'en more Jad than 
 
 gay, 
 
 To think how fa/t life's pleafant fands 
 Are ebbing, and for e'er away. 
 
 If only for fo brief a jpace 
 Our hearts had knit in fond embrace, 
 'Twere better far they ne'er had known 
 Such blifs, in this jhort hour of grace. 
 
 But joy lights up my falling tears, 
 Hope's ray has trac'd ajlant my fears,
 
 Triumphant love, " love jlrong as death,"* }^ 
 Counts not its life by tranjlent years. 
 
 The voice within, the voice of God, 
 Defy the cold and Jilent Jbd, 
 Proclaim, o'er every w^reck of earth, 
 That mercy wields each chajl'ning rod. 
 
 Then clajp me to thy arms, my boy. 
 Thy own frail, fond, and loving toy ; 
 I will not Jigh, I will not weep. 
 That once I there mujl fall ajleep. 
 
 That once mujl bid a long good-night. 
 And hide the while from thy dear Jight, 
 To prefs that lone and darkjbme bed, 
 Which mortals deem among the dead. 
 
 Vain terror of a childijh dream, 
 The dead, my boy, whate'er they feem. 
 Where'er they be, 'twill Jbon be jhown, 
 When " we Jhall know as we are known." 
 
 * Sol. Song, viii. 6.
 
 O ! raptures there are yet to come, 
 When this j\vect life its web hath fpun, 
 And all to mortal Jlght Jeems o'er, — 
 Behind the veil there's more, Jlill more ! 
 
 Though far our rejl be cajl apart, 
 We each Jhall hail the trumpet's found, 
 Whoje blajl above, beneath, around, 
 Shall wake to blifs each faithful heart, 
 
 O clajp me to thy breajl, my boy, 
 There were no blifs apart from thee. 
 Apart from God no blifs can be. 
 Then let us love and live in joy ! 
 
 Yes, find each other. Jure we mujt, 
 In Him, whoJe blood for us has won 
 The heav'n, which here is jcarce begun, 
 Thus let us live in hope and trujl. 
 
 In hope and truJl, in joy and love. 
 We'll live without intrujive fears ; 
 For high beyond the brightejl jphercs. 
 There lies a home for us above.
 
 u 
 
 ^ 
 
 For us, and our Jweet babe, my boy, 
 Exijls on yon immortal Jhore, 
 Where Jeraphs our own God adore — 
 A life 01 love, without alloy ! 
 
 1klf:raw^^C.^fc^wiS^)^^^^i«;:^ 
 
 W^
 
 30 
 
 Co mp Dear IJ)uft)anti, on 610 
 TBirtbDap. 
 
 London, 25th May, 1852. 
 
 ^'NOTHER wave along the Jhoie 
 )}j Is hujh'd, and will be heard no 
 
 more ; 
 
 Another circle of the Jun 
 Our blended paths their courje have run ; 
 Another hour of fleeting tfme 
 Has toll'd, — a third jince " thou art mine," 
 Proclaim'd,with pride, th^^ conqu'ring will — 
 O hujband dear. 
 With love and fear, 
 I ajk, art thou exulting Jlill ? 
 
 Another year — a third, has flown ; 
 
 The rapture too ! — the bridegroom's own —
 
 As honied blijs, he wildly jips 
 From blujhing bride's yet virgin lips, 
 The melting ardour of that kijs ! — 
 With Jinking heart I think of this, 
 And Jeek to read on thy lov'd brow, 
 O hujband dear, 
 With Jlgh and tear, 
 To read if thou be happy now ? 
 
 Another year — a third, is pajl, 
 To me each dearer than the lajl ; 
 Thine Annie, more than e'er thine own, 
 Would hear again that thrilling tone. 
 Or fondly, to thy manly breajl. 
 In Jilent ecjlajy cloje prejs'd, 
 Would y>^/ the throbbing of thy heart — 
 O hujband dear. 
 As death draws near, 
 Reveal that blejl indeed thou art !
 
 m 
 
 C-~ I 
 
 32 
 
 C})oug;6t0 in anticipation of our 
 jFourtb COentiing^Dap. 
 
 Haftings, Januarj', 1853. 
 
 'H ! no, I dare not write it more, 
 I have not heart to think it o'er, 
 Dark fears, all vague and unex- 
 prejs'd, 
 Bejet me round, and will not rejl ; 
 The echo of 3'on dijlant Jhore* 
 My yearning heart may hear no more. 
 
 O might I live to hail that morn, 
 Which brightejl mem'ries e'er adorn ! 
 Sweet babe, yet Jlumb'ring 'neath my breajl, 
 Sleep on, wake not from thy Jafe rejl, '■ 
 
 * An allufion to the delightful fhores of the 
 Cafcina, at Pifa. 
 
 ll
 
 ^^^^^^c^. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 -c^ 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 *KI 
 
 <r^S!^iwS=*^S 
 
 ^ 
 
 M 
 
 jM. 
 
 
 =^^^ 
 
 Till ere thou thence in pangs be torn, 
 Thy mother hail her bridal morn. 
 
 O might I live to fee that day 
 When firjl with thee I knecl'd to pray 
 Bejide the unprejs'd nuptial couch ; 
 Theje lips and eyes would warmly vouch, 
 More eloquent than this my lay — 
 The wife weeps not her bridal day ! 
 
 But jhould I ne'er more hail that night — 
 And God's good will is ever right — 
 Should Annie's form have Jet in light, 
 'Twill fpeak to thee, my own bejl love, 
 From grave below, and realm above. 
 She loves thee jlill, though lojl to jight. 
 With love more pure and warm and bright 
 Than e'en on that fair bridal night. 
 
 One living, loving pledge of mine. 
 
 Our darling babe, will /till be thine ; 
 
 And when jhe lays, confidingly, 
 
 Her little head upon thy knee, 
 
 When " mam-ma," weeping, Jhe will /ay. 
 
 Ah ! kijs her infant tears away.
 
 And — no ! 'twas but a dream, that knell, 
 Whofe dijlant echo o'er me fell. 
 Of joys, on which I dare not dwell ! 
 The tender jbng of Pifa's Jhades, 
 Methought 'twere call from Eden's glades ! 
 Then, peace ! no time can break that jpell — 
 My love for thee no words can tell — 
 No death can ever found its knell !
 
 Impromptu* 
 
 With a Watch-Jiand. 
 
 Haftings, 20th January, 1853. 
 
 ES, rejl thy hours on me ! 
 Their burden — wail or moan, 
 As Jbftly on its velvet throne, 
 Thy monitor /hall count 
 The lapje of their jwift loan. 
 
 Ah ! rejl thy hours on me I 
 Their jbrrow and their care ; 
 God grant me life the load to bear, 
 As 'twas my happy lot 
 Thy brightejl hours to jhare. 
 
 Yes, rejl thy hours on me ! 
 The oak is oft uptorn.
 
 The lily bends beneath the jlorm 
 And rijes with frejh jmiles, 
 To blejs and to adorn. 
 
 Ah ! rcjl thy hours on me ! 
 The weary, Jad, or gay, 
 I love their Jilent, penjive Jway, 
 Beyond the tumult, wild, 
 Of our firjl wedding-day ! 
 
 im 
 
 w^.
 
 wa 
 
 31mptomptu. 
 
 With the gift of a Hair Chain. 
 
 Haftings, 20th January, 1853. 
 
 ;HEN Cupid wove affection's chain 
 To bind us to each other, 
 Theje locks I now around thee 
 twine, 
 Waved foft o'er Annie's Jhoulder. 
 
 The ringlet chain wear next thy heart, 
 Though gold nor locks can weave 
 
 A bond of jlrength like that by which 
 My jbul to thine doth cleave. 
 
 Thou'Jl kijs'd them oft ; ah! kifs them jlill. 
 
 When Annie is no more ; — 
 No more ? ah ! that can never be, 
 
 Thus ne'er thy tajk be o'er. 
 
 ^^^^^^S
 
 38 
 
 Co mp etier tear l^uftiann, on 
 
 Haftings, 25th May, 1853. 
 
 I^^^NE more brief page to time's dark 
 lair 
 ^^^ The circling hours have wing'd 
 away, 
 And, bending low in fervent pray'r, 
 Thy Annie greets thy natal day. 
 
 One more full page time's rapid wheels 
 Before the judgment throne have borne, 
 Yet, jpar'd to thee, in praife Jhe kneels, 
 As brightly dawns the fejlive morn.
 
 J
 
 . t 
 
 v 
 
 4
 
 Two babes now hail, with fondling Jmiles, 
 Their father's early priz'd carejs ; 
 And move, by foft and winning wiles, 
 His manly heart to tendernejs. 
 
 Death fought to rob thee of one flow'r, 
 And hide beneath the dark, lone Jbd, 
 The bright, jweet rojebud of an hour. 
 When, "touch it not," was heard from God ! 
 
 For Him that precious gem to keep, 
 O let us Jlrive and ever pray, 
 Ne'er idly on the watch-ground Jleep, 
 Nor e'er the holy trujl betray ! 
 
 In vain I Jeek the notes of praife, 
 Which in my foul myjlerious ring, 
 With utterance on high to raife, 
 Or inward raptures loud to fing. 
 
 For though, alas ! too fain to Jlay, 
 The Annie of thy wedding morn 
 Is fading fajl — how fajl away ; 
 New joys to thee through her are born. 
 
 i^
 
 Yes, joys which blend this world of tears 
 With vijlas of blejl homes above ; 
 Which link its changeful, fleeting years 
 With thoje unchanging realms of love ; 
 
 Where tears, death, partings, all are o'er, 
 Where nothing fadeth, nothing dies. 
 No hope delujlve paineth more, 
 In thoje bright homes beyond the Jkies !
 
 41 
 
 ^p ^u(tianti'0 15irt6nap. 
 
 Maze Hill Cottage, St. Leonard's, 
 
 25th May, 1854. 
 
 LAD, bright, and warm-, 
 Unchill'd by Jlorm, 
 j^^^^ In tumult bland, fweet thoughts 
 arije. 
 As pidur'd in May's blujhing jkies, 
 Or, brighter Jlill, in Annie's eyes — 
 Love's beam unjhorn, 
 As in life's morn. 
 Ah ! thanks to thee and Him above ! 
 
 Emotions wild, 
 
 As of a child. 
 On this wan cheek Jlill flujh and fade ; 
 HadJl thou cajl there one fatal Jhade, 
 The grief untold, ere this had laid 
 Thy Annie low !
 
 That 'tis not [o, 
 Ah ! thanks to thee and Him above ! 
 
 Though jbng of praije 
 
 I cannot raije, 
 'Tis heard in every wooing breeze, 
 Amidjl the warblings of the trees, 
 And myjiic heavings of the feas ; 
 
 The voice of May 
 
 Refounds to-day, 
 With Annie's love to thee and God I
 
 43 
 
 Co mp ©uftiann, on our fiftf) 
 2:^cDnmg*Dap. 
 
 St. Leonard's-on-Sea, 
 
 Saturday, 20th January, 1855. 
 
 'HE twentieth ! and Saturday ! 
 
 The jlirring magic of thoje words. 
 
 Alas ! Jix years have pajs'd away 
 Like myjlic love-Jong of Jweet birds. 
 I could be jad, were I not gay, 
 I could be Jad, and Jad my lay, 
 To think of that far halcyon day. 
 
 I could be Jad, were I not blejl 
 Beyond my highejl hope or thought ; 
 For foon at heaven's high behejl. 
 With all their varied burdens fraught, 
 Theje ebbing Jands mujl Jink to rejl ; 
 This web of life will Jbon be wrought. 
 Yes, Jbon in vain will trace be Jbught
 
 Of *' Annie dear." Then comes the tcjl— 
 This Jvveet dream o'er, 
 On yon far Jhore, 
 
 Ah ! Jhall I hear, " well done," well fought ? 
 
 ^ 
 
 A vijlon of the pajl before me floats 
 From Jweet-tun'd grove, and Junlit, Jcented 
 
 Jhore ; 
 O Italy, the heart yet fondly doats, 
 Though all it lov'd in thee be thine no more ! 
 
 For that which long my heart had vainly 
 
 fought. 
 For which I ycarn'd and pin'd in Jecret 
 
 thought. 
 This boon I found, in that bright realm of 
 
 thine, 
 A mind high-Jlrung in unijbn with mine. 
 
 O Italy, I love thee dearly Jlill, 
 At e'en the thought of thy poetic clime, 
 The pulfes of the pajl, with their wild thrill. 
 Yet ring their rccklejs, madd'ning, witching 
 chime !
 
 ^M 
 
 My vijion bids me look afide, 
 Down yon dim, length'ning path of years, 
 To view the maid, the wife, the bride, 
 'Midjl changeful fcenes of Jmiles and tears. 
 
 I Jee a fair form in the dawn of youth, 
 Her candid brow lit up with love and truth, 
 'Mid cyprejs jhades of an Aujbnian mount,* 
 Soft moonbeams Jparkling in the regal fount. 
 
 In gladfome mirth her Jleps oft wander'd 
 
 there, 
 Her nafcent bloom fann'd bright by zephyrs 
 
 mild ; 
 When ev'ry fragrant breath wafted a pray'r. 
 The parents' pray'r for their loved, loving, 
 
 child. 
 
 Her breajl, the haunt of wrapt feraphic 
 
 dreams. 
 Her brow undimm'd by earthly Jlrife or care ; 
 How little deem'd Jhe then, thofe fame bright 
 
 beams 
 
 * Poggio Imperiale, Florence.
 
 Would light the orange wreath jhe once 
 Jhould wear. 
 
 I fee the falt'ring jleps of that pale bride, 
 I fee the trembling blojQ^oms of her crown, 
 But oh, to try to paint, 'twere to deride 
 That priceless, Jpeechlejs hour which knows 
 no frown ! 
 
 No, none Jhall dare to lift that veil of beams, 
 Which hides the myjlery of love like this, 
 But half reveal'd on Jacred page it gleams,* 
 Peace, rapture, perfefl union and blijs. 
 
 Again Jhe Jlood upon that clajjic mount, 
 The bridal blujh Jcarce faded from her cheek, 
 And yet it feem'd as if fome bitter fount 
 Were ready to o'erflow that brow Jo meek. 
 
 A heav'n-Jent Jhaft into her heart had fped, 
 Her lov'd Chrijline, lajl bud of home's bright 
 bow'r.
 
 >
 
 Who on a Jijler's path Juch beamy brightnefs 
 
 Jhed, 
 Of Jpeech, bloom, joy, bereft 'mid fejlive 
 
 hour ! 
 
 Again, Jhe Jtood by Arno's placid wave, 
 All trembling, awe-Jlruck, pierc'd and faint 
 
 at heart, 
 Dejpairing her fweet paradije to Jave ; 
 The high-charg'd hurricane had yet one dart ! 
 
 The Jlorm Jwept by, the Judden blajl, 
 The lightnings, left her heart and foul 
 
 unjcath'd, 
 Again in rapture to his breajl was clajp'd, 
 Again in floods of nuptial blijs Jhe bath'd. 
 
 And can it be the wife and mother blejl, 
 That now looks back upon that chequer'd 
 
 Jcene, 
 Serenely joyful, chajlen'd, not deprejs'd, 
 C?in Jhe that fair and cherijh'd girl have been ? 
 
 No father, mother, jijlers, live to cheer 
 The noontide Jultry gloom, or winter's night;
 
 C-^ I 
 
 But oh ! her babes, her hujband call her 
 
 " dear," 
 Her anchor cajl, Jhe fears nor blajl nor blight ! 
 
 No link which binds her to the pajl is jever'd, 
 No prefent joy or hope its cloje can fear, 
 No blejjing which e'er warm'd her heart has 
 
 wither'd, 
 And all that yet remains is tenfold dear. 
 
 O hujband of my heart — God grant me life 
 To prove to thee my love, yet more and 
 
 more ; 
 And do thou love, till time and death be o'er, 
 Thy own Jelf-chojen, heav'n-awarded wife !
 
 •0 
 G
 
 Co mp Dear !J)uft)anti, on W 
 
 25th May, 1856. 
 
 |TORM, blight, and blajl, and 
 wintry Jhow'rs, 
 Have Jear'd and rent our funny 
 bow'rs, 
 The lightning's fork has enter'd deep, 
 The Jhafts of death have Jear'd our Jleep ; 
 Thy manly form has long been laid 
 In trial's cold and dreary Jhade, 
 Thy Annie's cheek has blanch'd the while. 
 And faint now beams her wonted Jmile ; 
 Yet fonder, tenderer than e'er. 
 With fervid love and warmer pray'r. 
 She greets this feven times welcom'd day. 
 This hallow'd twenty-fifth of May. 
 With heart more firmly knit to thine,
 
 And thoughts that clojely round thee twine, 
 
 Which, like the jparkling gems of night, 
 
 Hide all their lujlre from the light. 
 
 For brighter burn love's heav'nly fires, 
 
 And higher flajh our pure dejires. 
 
 As length' ning jhadows coldly throw 
 
 Their deep'ning hue on all below ; 
 
 O ! dearejl love, yet birds may Jing, 
 
 And blojjbms their fweet odours fling 
 
 Amidjl our dejolatcd bovv'rs. 
 
 For hope, and faith, and love are ours ! 
 
 But let us cherijh prejent joys, 
 
 Nor dijregard, as worthlejs toys, 
 
 Thoje earnejls dear of endlejs blijs, 
 
 Our babes' carejs, their Jmile and kijs ; 
 
 Thoje voices glad, from cherub land, 
 
 Which echo 'midjl our little band ; 
 
 Thoje thrilling tones of infant life. 
 
 Which ring with heav'n 'midjl this world's 
 
 jlrife ; 
 Though jhadow'd now by jbrrow's wing, 
 With deathlike grajp we jeem to cling 
 To hopes of brighter da^'s in Jlore, 
 And bygone blejfmgs now no more ;
 
 Yet, dearejl love, her work once done, 
 
 On Jbrrow's night will rije a Jun ; 
 
 And pain and Jadnejs pajs away, 
 
 As darkncjs yields to coming day, 
 
 'Tis but an angel in dijguije, 
 
 An errand Jent from mercy's Jkies ; 
 
 And Jweet it is, with holy fear, 
 
 To think the Saviour Jlill is near ; 
 
 That 'tis not our God's angry frown. 
 
 But /imply to Jhower blej^ings down 
 
 We could not elje receive. Yes, praije 
 
 'Midjl bonds and jighs we well may raije ; 
 
 Thy Jlrong, enduring fpirit bold 
 
 Still Jhelters in her wedding-fold 
 
 The timid dove which there fought rejt, 
 
 Securely nejll'd in thy breajl. 
 
 We JufFer, love, live on together, 
 
 We know there is a bright for-ever, — 
 
 That nought can perijh, none can die, 
 
 Whofe life is link'd with Him on high ; 
 
 With Him who all can love and jave. 
 
 The mighty Vidor of the grave ; 
 
 Our hallelujahs unto Thee, 
 
 Eternal, glorious Trinity !
 
 ^nniuerfarp of out WzWrn-- 
 Dap. 
 
 ,EN years have pajs'd to their ac- 
 count, [bloom, 
 Swift blight has Jear'd my Jummer 
 And down the dujky, Jleep'ning mount, 
 My feet are hurrying to their doom. 
 One faithful hand jtill leads me on, 
 Rcgardlejs of the thick'ning gloom, 
 Still jcattcrs flow'rs and jo3's along 
 My careworn pathway to the tomb ! 
 
 No longer, with delujive hues. 
 The vague '* to come" hope's magic gilds, 
 No longer, jleep'd in earthly dews, 
 The gorgeous vijions fancy builds ; 
 To theje we fondl}' Jlill look back. 
 Their Jcatter'd Jplendours pauje to view, 
 Still linger on their burning track. 
 And thrilling fcenes thus live anew !
 
 m 
 
 'tfi 
 
 But onwards, upward is our aim, 
 Earth's witchery enchains no more, 
 Immortal fpirits in our train. 
 To higher goal we feek to Jbar. 
 Thus hand-in-hand the rapid Jlope, 
 In perfed concord and in trujl, 
 We tread, with ever-bright' ning hope, 
 Though part, alas ! at foot we mujl. 
 
 Yes, part ! My jlricken jbul e'en now 
 Recoils at very thought of this — 
 O God ! Thou knowejl when and how, 
 Hujband's and little ones' laji kijs ! 
 Hhn, them. Thy trembling, clinging child, 
 To whom the thought Jeems now ^o wild. 
 Thou canjl with Jlrength, peace, hope, injpire. 
 Quench death's dark floods with heav'nly fire. 
 And change our wail to jubilee. 
 Adoring rapture, ecjlajy ! 
 
 To him whofe heart injpir'd this pen, 
 Of regal race,* and regal mind, 
 
 * See Walford's " County Families," p. 754; 
 Burke's " Authorized Arms," p. 170 ; and Burke's 
 " Royal Families," 2nd edition.
 
 Staunch champion of the rights of men, 
 The faithful hujband, father kind, 
 I dedicate this monument. 
 To him a gift of dearer worth, 
 More priz'd than fculptur'd adamant, 
 He Jeeks no trophy, boon of earth. 
 His work, to God or Jlands or falls, 
 Fight or endure, until God calls ; 
 And then the meed, here earn'd, not won. 
 When heav'n and earth refound " Well 
 
 done!" 
 
 * * * * 
 
 All glory jhall for ever be, 
 O Lord of mercy, unto Thee, 
 Who gave the pow'r, injpir'd the will, 
 Before whoje throne, ye worlds, " be Jlill !'" 
 
 * Pfalm, xlvi. lo. 
 
 Maze Hill Cottage, 
 20th Jan. 1859. 
 
 CHISWICK PRESS : WHITTINGHAM AND WILKIN S, 
 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.
 
 ^IJ 
 
 Co mp ^uffiann. 
 
 3Impi*omptu ILinz^. 
 
 Woolwich, December, i860. 
 
 HE found of war came furging to 
 our coajl — 
 A nation Jprang to arms — 'twas 
 heard no more ! 
 And foremojl 'mid that gallant Britijh hojl, 
 Rejblv'd to die, or guard the jacred Jhore, 
 Was he, true fcion of bold ancejtry, 
 To fight and bleed for home and Liberty, 
 At Peril's outpojl, with brave band, ready! 
 
 And now my childhood's dream, matur'd 
 
 'mid Jlrife, 
 Is dream no more — a foldier's wife ! 
 Like all earth-born, it cojl — ah ! pangs and 
 
 throes 
 Of heart and mind, a mother onl}' knows !
 
 Secure, ferenc domejlic Jvveets, uptorn ! 
 The dreaded trial of each boding morn — 
 Children from parents rent in agony ! 
 The Jacrificc once made, within was peace — 
 That now the threaten'd hojlile thunders 
 
 ceafe, 
 All glory to the God of Battles be ! 
 
 To the brave Britijh hojl, hurrah ! hurrah ! 
 " All's well" — yes well, if e'en Jbme coming 
 
 day 
 Your war-Jlain'd banners wave triumphant 
 
 o'er 
 A wife and her hero Jlumb'ring in gore, 
 'Midjl/houts of vidory, and cannon's roar — 
 A glorious grave, that batt'ry on the /hore ! 

 
 1 
 
 ^^k
 
 \
 
 \
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
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