REFLECTIONS FROM NATURE, SCHOOLDAY REMINISCENCES, AND OTHER ORIGINAL P E M S. Bl RICHARD H A It R I S. LONDON : WILLIAM PICKERING, PICCADILLY. GEORGE BELL, FLEET STREET. 1853. V THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARB MOST RESPECTFI l.l.V AND GRATEFULLY DEDICATED ( BY PERMISSION ) TO THE LADY LUCIE DUFF GORDON, 11 HER LADYSHIP'S MOST HUMBLE AM) OBEDIENT SERVANT RICHARD HARRIS. RS^ PRE] ICE. HE following few thoughts, when first , written, were Qot intended to inert the p Qjix& l public cyi ami are merely the cbulli- tion of the mind during a few hours when not en- »ed in business. The repeated entre my friends to give them publicity, I in- duced me to listen to their solicitations, ami em- bark them on the wide ocean of public opinion. They may amuse, though I will not presume they will instruct, some of the many n of the pre- sent day ; but if they only for a Bhort space recall the bright sunny morn of boyhood, and give but a faint re' tive view of their happy Bchool-days, to those who have long forgotten or, at least, in the busy toil of manhood have little time to think upon them. I shall be abundantly rewarded. Throughout the work it has been nevertheless my endeavour ( from w hatever humble or common- vi Pheface. place theme) to deduce something advantageous to the mind of the reader; how far I have succeeded in this respect I must leave to his judgment after the perusal of the Reflections' from Nature: that good may indeed be little, but it should nevertheless be borne in mind that the lighted de* is invigora- ting to the plant ; the faintest and the most transient p of the sun on a winter's morning m cms more loveK even than its continued blaze in the parching summer, and therefore Bhould there he but a gleam (however dim) that Falls on here and there a page, 1 .-hall be gratified by the reflection that so far as my pen has been employed for the public, it has not been altogether employed in vain. With respect to the poem on " Friendship and FLATTERY," it will be, I think, at once evident to the reader that it is, as T&pTeaente&.foundedonfact ; a faintly drawn picture, it is true, yet draw n without flattery or exaggeration, and may perhaps be desig- nated, without any extraordinary degree of vanity being ascribed to its author, as a somewhat faithful copy. The scenes of every-day life cannot fail to convince an attentive observer how often the flat- tering enemy, the bloodthirsty horseleech, is dis- Preface. vii guiscd by tin- mask which is made to counterfeit Friendship; how often the extended arm of appa- rent Friendship is wrapt round the neck with de- ceitful embrace, (like the fatal coils of the boa-con- strictor,) only to crush and to kill. But without noticing each poem respectively, I will leave thi' whole like a tattered beggar, as it is, on the charity of the refined, and (if I may employ the expression) wealthy taste of the criticising public. It is not for me to endeavour to expand the little merit it may possess by a few aping flourishes of the pen, any mere than it would be becoming to daub over its detects by the thin-spun and ill-de- signed excuses which the author's youth or circum- stances might dictate; an attempt at any thing like this, I am well aware, would be ridiculous in an age like the present, abounding as it does with the most refined literature that the world will probablv ever produce, and such as must descend to Pusteritji's posterity, (if I may so speak,) and yet lose none of its charms, but even then reflect a blaze of wonder and amaze, of honour and renown on the davs of " the good old times." I have, no doubt, left abundant space for criti- Vlll I'm ] ACE. cism, but I trust an indulgenl public will make ample allowance for one who onlj .' hut finished hit tchooUda ■ In conclusion, I hare to return my sin© thanks to those of my frienda who have offered such a liberal enco ura ge m ent to my first literary efforts, by honouring the work wilb their name* rabscribi re, and I musl also express a hope that the perusal of ita contents may be an inducement to them also I \dvolvme by the same author, which probably a few months may bring forth. Richard Harris. i85f>. ( o\ I I NTS ' pHE Good Old rimes i •*- Reflections from Natoxe .; I •< rnity 47 "ig Kitrly Sl1kk.Ii1.iv K. mini 57 I IBM 89 \ aloe of rime Life 1 he Funeral Bell Happiness mi Li t 11- not be idle In 1 \ ( Vutury to roii,.- 105 Love n 17 Mi morj no Let us be merry 11. Gold U, The Labourer's Song of Content 11? The Wind 1 iu The Storm 121 The Winter is Coming 1 The Old Year • . . . . l A Sailor to his Wife — Think of me ! 128 The Wife's Reply 1 A lnle of Friendship and Flattery— Founded on Fact 135 b ERRATA. Page 4, line 10, for she read he. b, line 12, for her read his. 10, line i, for Sii read 'Tis. THE GOOD OLD TIMES." OW oft do wo hear the days that arc oe In warmest of lanjniaffe extolled ; Those days that had birth, while the sin-laden earth, In darkness and mist was inthralled ! How oft do we hear of " the good old times," But tell ns the date if you can, W hen these glorious days, that extort so much praise, Their journey so merrily ran ! Tell us the time when thev gan to exist, O say, is it long years ago ? Is it centuries back, when deeds were so black, As History's begrimed pages show ? B 2 The Good Old Times. it in days when a darkness prevailed That hid tlie most odious crimes, Which, like a thick cloak, or a huge cloud of smoke, Veiled the deeds of " the good old timi Or were those the days when Btrengtfa reigned as king, \ml might held ;i paramount sway; When all hut the great, tor justice might wait, Till the dawn of BOme distant day? When man scarce could use his reasoning powers, Without glancing the dismal prave; When England's fair laud showed the murderer's brand, Ami each of her sons was a slave ! But man with his lot is seldom content, And now at day's glorious dawn, He turns from the light, to dark dismal night, And sighs for the days that are gone ! Hut these present days which the grumbler slights, And charges with monstrous crimes, As time passes on, shall he look back upon As " the days of the good old times !" 111.1 Li;(Tlo\s 1KO.M NATURE. HE country's beauty 1 who that loves QOl : S^^^d Who sees ami not admires the humble cut Fixed at the side of some slow rising mound, With neatness compassed and with rosea crowned? A porch with flowers redolent creeping o'er, Stands as a relic of the days of yore ! In part upheld by what has helped decay. A work of youth perhaps fading fast away ; A building which, contra.-ted with the style Of town-built mansions, makes the builder smile, Is yet more lovely in its owner's eye, Than courtliest mansions peering to the skv ! Although improvements that, year after year Have crept along, are there reflected clear — A fresh curve there and here a stone denied, That ancient works more liberal supplied — 4 Reflections from Nature. So travels taste; some progress made each day. New plans devised, and old ones thrown away ; An edifice, long styled a work of art, Becomes thus metamorphosed part by part, I 'mil at length the garb that once was worn, So tasteful then, so workmanlike, is gone. Not so the old and weather-beaten porch, On whose rude builder perhaps the glaring torch, That gaudy art upholds had never shed The faintest gleam to show the route she led. Or if it did, he saw the dazzling ray. And after looking took another way, Preferring much the light from gentle moon, Than dazzling splendour of the rays of noon. Now mark its build, four rude and crooked sticks Support the roof without the aid of bricks, Or mortar, plaster, stone, cement or glue; Its tenons too and mortises are few, As also are the tiles for roof required ; So small a portion of the work was hired, In short, from Art himself, that makes appear As though the great mechanic passed by here ; Presuming like a strolling actor perhaps, The spot too little to undo his " traps," Reflections from Nature. 5 So went on further to a larger place, W here more admirers met his eager face. He hovered round it seems but made no Btay, And after glancing quickly marched away; But one more look upon the clumsy roof, Which though nor slate nor tile is water proof. Its rude materials taken as they grew (With the exception of a thump or two From lusty arm of one robust and hale, That played a game in shirt-sleeves with his flail ) From Nature's workshop, well their office fill, As those in which Art shows her greatest skill. Twisted and carved and grained the uprights stand, And decorated well by Nature's hand ; However man with much strained skill might try, To form a post so curiously wry, So strangely wrought, so graved and so embossed, His greatest energies would all be lost ; Nor would he with his mountain stock of lore, Well imitate the post at yonder door ! The straw thatched roof is thickly overgrown With clasping tendrils that long have shown A great affection for their old support, And seem with gratitude unchanging fraught; 6 Reflections from Nature. Like grateful child repaying kindness past, And like true friendship clinging to the last ! Forsaking not when wealth or beauty goes, Bat shielding from the wind misfortune blows; Befriending still though friends be scattered wide, And lending aid when dash'd on Sorrow's tide ; Endearing still though beauty fast decaj S, And firmest clinging in its latest days ! So dealeth friendship and so dealcth love, When purelj flowing from the Source above; When uncorrupted by that fetid stream That quick evaporates in noxious steam, As soon as heated by misfortune's sun, Or turned where silent depths of sorrow run. Such is the Porch, which is most rude, I own, But in its rudeness is its beauty shown. Had every knot which uprights crook'd display, Been undervalued and so cut away ; Or had the posts been trimmed to please the taste Of him possessing none it had been waste Of Nature's beauties so profusely spread, From mountain peak to roof of lowest shed ; And which thro' all their changes were designed To guide the spirit and adorn the mind ! Reflections from Nature. 7 There's nought in Nature's gorgeous works so small, But what demands a pensive look from all ! But he who vainly climbs up Pride's incline, Oft sees no beauty where true beauties shine. The contemplative mind will pensive triad, Where'er a gleam from Nature's lamp is shed ; It sees the traces of His mighty hand No more in mountains than the grain of sand ! No greater skill, no more display of power, Presents the forest than the simplest flower ; 'Tis wonder all ! a deep unfathom'd sea On which the mind is wreck'd while roving free ! Stupendous power Omnipotence displayed Who spoke the word, and what was not obeyed ! Mountains and hills in gaudy pomp arise, The herbage springs, the feathered warbler flies. He orders light, and darkness is no more ; Again He speaks, and seas and oceans roar; The swelling streams commence a mazy race, And finny tribes assume their destined place ! Ten thousand worlds peep from the dark abyss, Though all appear subservient to this ; An atmosphere encompasses the earth, And myriads of insects have their birth, 8 Reflections from Nature. Some of so small a structure as defy The keenest searchings of the human eye , And some so small that on a needle's point Might rove whole tribes endued with nerve and joint ! Last comes the creature on immortal wing, To wield the Bceptre as creation's king! That work by which the noblest arc nirpass'd, The only work which was design'd to last! But lest reflection's veil some part should hide. At times 'twere more convenient thrown aside; The Lowly Porch first meets my wandering eye, \- over Nature's broad expanse 'twould fly; An humble theme 'tis true, but shallower streams Have been explored where purest beauty beams. Wherever Nature's finger tip has been, There grandeur rises and true beauty's seen ; A view of nature never met my gaze, But sent me floating on a sea of praise, And depths of wonder at th' Eternal Mind, Which roving worlds and " creeping things" de- sign'd ! Now passed the rustic entrance of the cot, A glance reveals the humble labourer's lot ; Reflections from Nature. 9 l'lio' humble yet perhaps happy as the lark That chants the morning in and Hits till dark ; A chimney corner of gigantic size, And of inviting mien now meets the eyes. When Winter deals his unrelenting blast, And binds the brooks once rippling, firm and fast ; When, on the angular and leaded panes Hard pelts the torrent of the winter rains, When earth is coated with its garb of snow, The moon is veiled, and all looks dull below ; Then gives the friendly hearth a cheerful blaze, And round the crackling log the dicker plays. The reddening peat yields comfort to the swain, And melts the Winter's adamantine chain ; Cold and his grim attendants stand aloof, Scarce daring to intrude beneath the roof ; Or should they venture 'neath the garb of night, They're soon assailed, and quickly take to flight ; They stand without, and sharp their missiles pour, But Industry's within and guards the door. Attack with all their wonted rage they may, But there he calmly stands and gains the day ; Defying all their numbers and their power, And reigning monarch of his ancient tower : 10 Reflections from Nature. Sir Winter's victor, Hunger's bitterest foe, The belly's friend and Health's far famed depot ; The aid in sickness and the stay in health, The path of comfort and the road to wealth ; The stock from whence pure Liberty shall spring, Art's greatest pat run. Peace's grandest king! Joy speaking faces and the kettle's song, Welcome the rustic who has toil'd so long; His duties done, his day of labour past, He reaps the harvest of his toil at last ; Hope's glorious halos compass him about, And all is calm within though rage without. Thus welcomed where a blest contentment lives, He feels the comforts honest labour gives ; Of which fatigue, if reckon'd up aright, Amounts at least to one — an appetite ; His system by exertion deeply pressed, Pants for repose and hungers after rest ; A meaning sleeps within that word repose, Which nought but Labour's hand can well disclose. Proceeding on his way at early dawn, With good supply, the evening finds it gone, And he returns on sweet repose to feast, From all his cares and arduous tasks released. Reflections from Xature. 11 O ye who seek your downy beds when night Has passed away, and find there no delight ! Who have vour florid curtains closely drawn. And all the comforts sipped from Plenty's horn ; To whom sweet sleep scarce comes but when much press'd, Or coming- is a transient friend at best ; Could you but borrow for a single night, The true felicity, the pure delight, Of him who on his humble couch demands The pleasure lavish dealt by Nature's hands, Methinks you'd say that he was well supplied With comforts which your comforts can't provide. You have vour pleasures, perhaps, and so has he, But yours are self enslaved, while his are free ; Yours oft enslave yourselves, oft rack the mind, Some fresh enjoyment from their source to find ; To real joys they oft make you a foe, And on your smoothest paths rough brambles throw ; Your so called comforts oft cost you your health, And chain you to your bed from whence your wealth, Or aught beside can seldom make vou rise, Or rising more regain the shattered prize. You seek your comfort where it does not dwell, L2 Reflections from Nature. And strive to purchase that which none can sell ; You worship, and well nigh on bended knees, Things which the healthy labourer never sees ; What you despise would ofttimes suit his taste, And he a dainty meal could make from what you Waste. Your skilful cooks may make your dishes nice, And try wealth's greedy stomach to suffice, But yet an appetite they cannot bring, Or serve up with your dish what does not spring From Luxury's but Labour's well dug soil, And is a child whose Father's name is " Toil." I would not court Wealth's daughter could I gain Her diamonded hand, were she to chain Her husband in some dungeon that she owns, I Iundcuffed and thrust 'twixt walls of monstrous stones! But in the devious language of my song, I would not nubilate the right by wrong : If wealth becomes our friend, 'tis well to use The happy blessings that his hands diffuse ; If Fortune's kind, and kindly lends us aid, She does not mean her kindness to degrade, To sink us lower in Creation's scale, Reflections from Nature. 13 Or make us our well favoured lot bewail ; She sends her blessings to supply our needs, To render barren wastes prolific meads. \\ ealth ceases to be wealth when tenants cease To keep the covenants of the short termed lease ; These once profaned endangers much the prize, The barriers break and oil' the prisoner flies. Is he not poor who turns his well-filled purse 1 rom heavenly blessing to a hellish eursi Is he not poor who's thrust upon his bed By gouty limbs or worse — a gouty head? Is he not poor who seeks but cannot find Repose of body or repose of mind ? Methinks those belts his body should sustain, Too tightly press, and prove a girth of pain. Thus wealth makes poor — such poverty, alas ! May I ne'er see reflected from the glass That me reflects — I'd rather till the field Than be possess'd of all that earth can yield, If dispossessed of what wealth cannot buy, Nor its purveyors numerous supply. If I have wealth and evils great attend, I still am poor, and Fortune is no friend ; Whereas, if labour were my humble lot, 14 Reflections from Nature. \\ "ith Nature's blessings I would grumble not. The sum is this, the man is poor whose wealth Divests of virtue, or deprives of health. do. glance within the labourer's low retreat, When all is rode but yet where all is neat; Where wealth contaminate ne'er spreads a veil, To hide the moral of our life's short tale; Nor i i6es the present to a Bise That future yean -hall look on and despise! I - like the \ alley sheltered and secluse, S are from burniiiLr friends, or chill abuse; Ne'er overwhelmed by summer's furious blaze, ( For neighbouring peaks refrad bis darting rays,) Nor much alarmed when winter wields his wand, And plants his foot on ev'ry stream and pond; Where in the sweet tranquillity of i The moon appears when daylight takes his leave; Where thick exhalements from the pool of pride, By gold evaporated, never hide The modest grandeur of her gentle face, Or dim the path she treads with princely grace. Fame's airy form ne'er hovers round the spot, And there Ambition never aims a shot; That stands afar and scarce a glance besto Reflections from Nature. 15 This never comes but in its humblest clothes ; Array VI in garbs humility has spun, And coveting- the robe denied to Done. Tis lure his hope, hi< proud ambition lies, — To gain a lasting mansion in the skies ! Ambition worthy of a king to own, And Bucfa as sets the labourer on a throw lie takes it at the close of life's brief day, And reigns thereon when thrones have passed awa\ : And would that BOenes like tin* were not mi rare, That life breathed freerj Eden's purest air! The country ! oh, there's music in the word ! Tis only there that Nat hit's music's heard; 'Tis there alone her notes resounding clear, 1 lads each successive season of the year ; 'Tis there alone she strikes the sonorous strings, And there in Bweet celestial strains she sings; — The spring advances, and melodious la\ a Deluge the earth with floods of joyful praise; The lark ascends in triumph toward the skies, And drops a lovely carol in its rise ! With twittering notes the new born sun it hails, While earth is ravish'd by its sweet told tales; Before the glimmer of day's earliest dawn, 16 Reflections from Nature. It bids us rise to taste the breath of morn ; The rippling brooks take up the cheerful song, And sweetly chant, the while they haste along. There is a pleasure in the early stroll, Which strikes the tendered chords \\ ithin the soul ; While yet the sun with slumbering, half-closed • Reluctant creeps out from the eastern skies; \\ hile yet the meadow's robe its jewels display s, And early BC-ngsters warble hymns of praise; The moon is blushing and conceals her face, The stars withdraw and seem to yield their place; The sky is flushed and looks as if on fire, And greeting beams make shades of night retire; Then let the spirit have its wonted swav, And wander unrestricted on its way ! .Mark then, the extensive orb which it pursues, The wide expanse its wandering eve reviews ; The sceptre of the realms of thought it wields, And blissful basks within Elysium fields ! It sits quiescent on the seat of bliss, And longs to give the world its parting kiss ; — It sits as he once sat in Eden's bowers, Ere noxious weeds were sown among its flowers ; Earth seems a paradise, and its survey Reflections from Nature. 17 Transmits the spirit to the scene of day. It loves the earth, yet longs to take its flight, For earth reflects a far more pure delight; — Earth's landscapes are its telescopes which bring In close approximation that bright spring Which winter ne'er succeeds, nor clouds obscure, The sun ne'er scorches, and where all is pure. Can artist's pencil, poet '^ pen portray, This gorgeous miniature of real da\ : I praise their efforts, and the hand admire Which sets the nature-loving soul on tire; Which blows the spark into a brilliant flame, And kindles love for Nature's sacred name ; That from the soul's unfathom'd ocean draw - Just admiration and a meet applause ; But brightest samples of artistic skill, Which cannot fail the emptiest souls to fill With deepest wonder, and extort their praise On him who Nature's portrait thus displa Too seldom lead the wonder-stricken mind So far back as the Artist who desi^n'd That great original, that broad expanse, Which thought scarce reaches, and the eyes ne'er glance. 18 Reflections from Nature. But this grand picture loads the wondering' soul On swiftest wings to Him who made the whole; Whose work- arc- mighty, but He, mightier far, Who tardea earth, and makes the wind his car; Who Btrides eternity, and spanneth time; Extends His wings o'er Saturn's chilly clime, Yet stands on earth, \r d( ed we wonder long what great des < foani] had drawn that traced the route Bach world should follow ere it started out ? Without Earth's beauties she might stay her course, Nor more retain her centrifugal force; The sun might -• t. and set to rise no more, The moon take flight to some undreamt of shore, Man cease to live, for he would be at best But labour wasted, misery full dr. Deep enveloped in darkness and despair, Without such beauties of the earth and air ! Divest the earth of these, hide Beauty's face, (If Fancy's giant powers can efface Reflections from Nature. 21 For one brief moment such a beauteous prize As in the smallest blade and floweret lies !) And mark the course the blinded race pursues, In darkness groping, soon its way 'twould lose; No trace of bliss would cheer the roving soul, And all would seem a deep, unfathomed hole ; On seas of darkness 'twould be devious driven, And soon forsake the only route to heaven ! Pure Revelation quick would lose its hold, And be by deepest ignorance controlled — The gospel truths be resolutely spurn 'd, Be tried by Disbelief, by Folly burn'd ! What surer sign on earth can there be found That Truth's no bubble, no unmeaning sound, That its a fixed, undeviating mark Set up to guide us through a way so dark, So oft beset with quagmires, traps and snares ; So oft alloying fondest hopes with cares ; What more required, Fiction's book to close, What surer signs than earth's fair surface shows ? Were all these blessings then design'd for man, Who, soon as his ne'er-ending course began, Swerved from the peaceful and umbrageous route, The joy-strew'd path that heavenly love marked out? 22 Reflections from Nature. Were beasts that graze the mountain and the plain, The tribes of air and those which swim the main, And earth itself with blessings so profuse, Created solely for this creature's use ? Was every floweret that earth's surface yields, The exuberant crops that deck surrounding fields, The ocean's waters and all else" beside, For all the numerous needs of man supplied? Important then in the Creator's sight — A creature formed express for his delight — Frail man must be, and destined for an end O'er which his feeble eye can scarce extend ! There must be something God's deep wisdom sees In man that's worthy blessings such as these; Something for which such kindness was displayed, For which a world, a universe was made ! Who knows if yonder stars, yon dazzling sun, And placid moon, that through their courses run, Were settled there for any higher plan Than that of tending to the wants of man I There fixed in the immensity of space, (Each one preserving his allotted place;) They wheel the seasons, lighten every clime, Give day its boundary and measure time. Reflections from Nature. 23 Was there among them a rebellious one, Earth might be crush'd, the universe undone ! Did but the smallest violate its law, May be 'twould travel on its course no more ; Surrounding worlds would tremble at the stroke, Nor only tremble perhaps, their order broke, The whole, methinks, would in convulsions shake, And with a deafening crash the whole might break ; Earth bound away, and thro' dark regions fly, The sun be lost, and all creation die ! 'Tis man alone, ennobled from his birth, (Not by his old connection with the earth, But nobler far, related to the King Of countless worlds, that on His outstretch'd wing Flits through all space and stands on worlds afar, And with His care encircles every star,) That dares to break and even to despise The laws fixed by the Ruler of the skies, To guide man's course and check his wayward flight, Efface obscurity, make darkness light ! Where stands the Atheist ? where rest his views ? What darken'd orbit is't his soul pursues ? To him do sun and moon and stars appear? Or do they ne'er approach his chilly sphere ? 24 Reflections from Nature. Has something fixed his wild, unchanging gaze, Or wherefore all the scenes that earth displays ? Does hope ne'er deck th' horizon of his breast, Or does no straggling beam his eye arrest? What weaves the \eil that thus mysterious blinds, And where the joy that lightens purer minds? Where lives the fear diffused iii brighter souls, And where the happiness that fear controls? What servile spirit is't within him reigns ; And what the summit that his joy attains? He sees the world, perhaps marks its varied scenes, But there he halts — some shadow intervenes ! His vision rolls a deviating course, For ever check'd by some unconquered force. He surveys life ; perhaps marks its rapid stream, And owns its title just — " a transient dream !" But here he stops, and thinks his closing breath Will rock him calm into the sleep of death 1 He hopes (if ever hope emits a ray) That with his life, existence fades away ; Presuming not when Death's rough grasp shall shake, That the profoundest dreamer will awake — That when the fleeting dream of life is o'er, Realities he ne'er dreamt of before Reflections from Nature. 25 Will rise before him in the light of morn, Make fiction real, and laugh his dreams to scorn, He thinks (if e'er such creatures think at all) That when the last grain of life's sand shall fall, He'll creep into Oblivion's dark bowers, And thus cheat Death of all his boasted powers. Now turn to Nature, hear the tale she tells, And learn a sermon from the hills and dells ! Does she to such fallacious reasoniug yield ? Go — seek her answer in the silent field ! Why came the earth if man was but a spark Which death puffed out and all beyond was dark ? What vain design gave the creation birth If man, her lord, was of no higher worth Than meanest of the grand empire he sways, His greatness centered in a few short days ? What called him forth, what made the earth so fair, And why came reason, if his hopes were there ? For what vain purpose was man settled here, If there's no future port where he may steer ? If when this narrow, troubled sea is cross'd, The whole is finished and the future lost, Just like an exhalation quick dispersed, Or but a bubble which a breath can burst ; 26 Reflections from Nature. Why halts he oft before some whispering voice, And what 'twixt numerous paths gives him the choice ? Why cares he what encircling route he goes, If all converge and all at length shall close ? O infidel, can thy untutor'd mind Keep wandering on and yet, y*t never find In its erratic path the slightest trace Of Him that form'd each world, suspended it in space 1 Canst think such mighty works for thee were wrought As Nature shows thee, and yet thou for nought? Created but to glut thy taste and eye, Live as the beasts, and then as beasts to die ! Canst ponder Nature, contemplate her laws, And think all were produced without a cause ? Peruse her book, and scan each sacred page, And mark her constancy from age to age ; Successive generations rise and fall, But she tho' changing keeps unchanged thro' all. The morning breaks, the orb of day appears, And on his destined pathway pompous steers; He lights the world, sends down his cheerful rays, Makes earth prolific, and his homage pays ; Noon follows in his wake, then comes the eve, Reflections from Nature. 27 And in his crimson car the sun takes leave. The twilight blends sweet evening with the night, And all seems rest till morn again sheds light ; The spring appears with all her joyous train, And Renovation acts his part again ; Renascent herbage clothes the numerous hills, And with exultance all creation fills. She sows her seeds, with blossom decks the trees, And sports awhile upon the western breeze, Then makes her exit, takes no further care, But yields her charges to the Summer air. He furious comes, repairs the spring-tide gap, And pours Spring's produce into Autumn's lap ; Then comes again old Winter's snowy head, Which seems to mourn the seasons that are dead; His visage pallid, frowning, dark and drear, He seems the tomb of the departed year ! Thus all is change, yet Nature still retains Her infant form, and all unchanged remains ! A book is Nature strewed with pretty plates, And to one well skilled Artist each relates ; In all there is one mighty truth to learn, And to one point their numerous currents turn. On yonder brow I see a beauteous scene, 28 Reflections from Nature. A glowing picture, placid and serene ; No eloquent harangue my ear assails, And yet a sonorous voice the spirit hails ; It sends me fluttering to earth's infant days, Rocks fear to sleep, and wakes the slumbering praise ; It points the hour when man insatiate, Relinquish'd manhood tor a childish state ; When tried by Btrong Temptation's searchingprobe, He threw away his only needed robe ; Till then Man's comforts were complete without, Or silks or satins cumbering him about; Supplied with all that Heavenly wisdom thought Convenient for the noble work he'd wrought, Man listened to the insidious serpent's lay, And soon incurred a debt he could not pay; A contract sign'd securing him the grave, And lasting bondage had no heavenly wave Wash'd from his soul the hellish colour'd stains, And from a bankrupt world broke off the chains. Soon as " the robe of righteousness" was torn, He felt the need that something should be worn ; From Eden's glory and pure angels' bliss, He sank to settle in a world like this. Reflections from Nature. 29 A garden once, laid out by taste Divine, W ann'd by a sun that ne'er had ceased to shine, Had man received its unrefracted light. And put the infernal cloud of Hell to flight! But now a plot beset with plants that bear Prolific crops of toil, disease and care ; Bestrewed with thorns and rank luxurious weeds. On which the uncultured mind for ever feeds. Look yonder, man, and see thy weakness traced Back to creation, and thyself debased ! Seen as thou art, say where thy glory lies, And what the intrinsic worth thy follies prize ! Seen as thou art, bare, helpless and forlorn, Say, in what sphere do all thy beauties dawn ? Thy poverty, alas ! God only knows, Dependent on inferiors for clothes ! See man array d in all his gaudy suit, That first adorn'd the back of yonder brute; A garment second-hand he's glad to own, Nor scorns the dress that on a beast has grown. And can Pride live in such an humble sphere, Or Vanity through such deep mists appear? Where springs it then, and what propitious earth Produces creepers that betray thy worth ? 30 Reflections from Nature. Thou'rt rich, may be, thy stomach never felt A pang but from thy blessings wrongly dealt ; Thy back well clad and pocket lined with gold, Secure from Summer's heat or Winter's cold, And if thou'rt prudent health may till the place Which in Wealth's list is oft an empty space. And further still, thy catalogue* of worth, May be, is honoured by — " a noble birth f" Thy father, perhaps the grandson of a peer, A pass which many a gilded gate will clear. (How lucky and praiseworthy he that's born Heir to a gem that's been for ages worn ! How great the worth, how worthy is the fame That springs but from a father's ancient name!) Such then are the unprofitable seeds From whence the obnoxious plant of Pride proceeds, Seeds planted ill or cultivated wrong, Seeds fostered badly by a giddy throng ! O thou who thus art chosen as the soil, In which spontaneous spring no plants of toil, Say, why thus favour'd, wherefore were they sown, And what the crop there destined to be grown ? May be, they serve a stercoraceous cause, And raise a fertile crop of rank applause I Reflections from Nature. 31 Rich harvest too, and one befitting well Subverted granaries where vermin dwell ! Thou'rt great, of course, thy riches make thee so, But perhaps thy greatness centres in vain show ; When poised by Truth and weighed in Virtue's scales, Thy grovelling worth in tainted gas exhales — The spectre vanishes, the rock is cleft, And in its place a heap of dust is left ! Weigh Wealth with Worth, divest it of its coat, And like a bubble on Worth's stream 'twill float! But thou art rich ! Misfortune scarce hast met, Dark clouds of sorrow ne'er assailed thee yet ! All has been sunshine, weather bright and calm, No threatening aspect ever caused alarm. 'Tis well ! thy lot is fair, enclosed in bliss, And seems secure from poverty's abyss ; But came such good for such a futile end, Or came such wealth for Vanity to spend ? A clod of earth with flowers adorn'd may gain A gazing world's applause as weak as vain, But that no longer than the flowers last ; Should they be scattered by Misfortune's blast, Thou'lt look in vain for friends thou once could'st own, 32 Reflections from Nature. Be spumed by many and to all unknown ! Do Heaven's blessings then lead thee to scorn A fellow mortal 'cause he's lowly bom ? One who ne'er tasted pleasures such as thine, And who ne'er baak'd within thy warm sunshine; Is he beneath thy notice 'cause he's forced To labour till Lite's stormy ocean's crossM : Say, is it thus? do blessings such as these Instead of warming tend those streams to freeze Which thro' the rale of Poverty should flow, And on unfertile land- make Comfort grow? 'Twere well at once to stop their worthless force. And turn their current in another course ; As well to lay thy talents on the shelf, As to monopolize their fruit thyself! And better too, for when thy lord demands The interest of all placed in thy hands, With what composure wilt thou meet his eu. And what the trust abused will satisfy ? (Forgive the truth, for truth itself must tell) Thy soul a bankrupt, prison'd fast in hell ! When thou shalt glance o'er Life's unfolding page, And read the travelling cost thro' every stage, O how the sight thy drooping soul will cheer, Reflections from Nature. 33 When items long effaced again appear ! When thou shalt see so much misspent for pain, So much for pleasures frivolous ami vain, So much for vanity with trifles fraught, So much for traps in which thyself wast caught! If such be pride and all that Pride can give, In Poverty's drear cot I'd rather live Than soar on wings of wealth above its cloud, And lastly share the dungeon of the proud ! Are flesh and blood throughout the world the same, Or do Wealth's trappings hide some nobler frame? When Death strips all and lays each bosom bare, Does Wealth convey to some more genial air ? Secure its tenant some far nobler home, Or with him through more blissful regions roam Than he will enter who slides off the earth Unknown, unnoticed and of little worth? 'Tis Reason asks, let Reason then reply. And mortals listen, for she'll speak no lie ! Blest he who finds when Life's frail thread is spun. An item in his book which thus shall run — " So much a year to poverty supplied, So many pounds to craving self denied ! " Yes ! he's the man, and happy is he now, D 34 Reflections from Nature. Bright wreaths of happiness shall deck his brow; Ami he shall win an ererlastiag fame, A greater honour than a gilded name! Rank v. nils will spring in mod uncultured ground, And more uncultured il they more abound; And Bucfa is pride, a weed we oftenesl find Luxuriant most in most unfertile mind. When Fancy roves and Pegasus takes fright, "lis do mean ta-k to check their wayward Bight; Throughout Creation's wondrous -pace they fly, And tlit through regions of the ethereal sky: Embark on seas unseen, unknown before, And Bteer their course to some unheard of shore. I - hard for Btrongesl ever to retain The mastership and check the tugging rein, But how much more so for a weakly hand Like mine to hold an absolute command ! Mv quill resembles some frail barque at s Toss'd here and there, enslaved yet ranging free; What aideth some o'erw helms my feeble speck, And winds that lightly toss make mine a wreck ! What forwards some strikes mine with such a force, As sends it reeling in another course. But once more righted it resumes its track, Reflections from Nature. 35 For Nature's mellow language calls it back. Now change the scene, let daylight slide away, And placid Evening have her gentle sway ; On Twilight's wings she reaches Night's deep lake, Halts at its verge with darkness in its wake. She comes as in halt mourning suit array 'd, The harbinger of night's approaching shade; Her reign is transient, but her modest crown DitFuses peace and calls Enjoyment down. Within the bosom of the quirt vale, When Eve relates her first enainmir'd tale, While moon and stars and all that stand around, Appear intent to catch the gentle sound, There let the spirit quench its parching thirst With waters which from Eve's pure fountain burst. Within these realms no jarring discord breaks The blest serenitude and peace she makes ; Here Pleasure dwells, and in her purest form, Here Peace's fulness leaves no room for storm ; Here Virtue's pencil seems to tincture all, Here rays from stars of Hope appear to fall ! In modest grandeur peers the orb of night, Throughout the shaded vale diffusing light ; Like some huge ball of fire she rives the trees, 36 Reflections from Nature. Yet seemeth loth to quit earth's gonial breeze; Ascending still her topmost rim appears, And still ascending soon the tree-top clears; No boughs or bills now intercept her way, And on she wheel-, a mimic show of day. A net of shadow overspreads the earth, Ami evening's gloom is lit by" evening's mirth; ould that pen of mine could sketch the scene, And some few trait> from BOmuch beauty glean; 1 aid show in miniature the Bpangled sky, And spread earths richness all before the eye! Preserve the music which the valley gives, And always roam where so much beauty li\< Within this vale does Nature seem to show A heavenly scene reflected here below ; The garb of placidness invests the place, And adds a charm to Nature's happy face, While music softly playing to the soul, Is set like gems to decorate the whole ! There hover round such spots celestial joys, Which nought pollutes and nothing base alloys ; Now tune the ear, unveil the eager sight, Unlock the soul and welcome pure delight. See Nature now, clad in her evening's dress, Reflections fkom Nature. 37 And hear the lesson that her tones impress ; The twittering larks the air no longer cleave. The throstle's tired, and long has taken leave ; But there is music still from yonder trees, Home gently on by evening's whispering hreeze ; Soft comes the shrill reverberating strain, And wakes the slumbering fancy up again ; Bears on Reflection's busy train of thought, And meets the soul with glad emotions fraught. 1 hear thee, gentle songster of the night, Arrester of the soul's unbounded flight ; (But though arresting yet imparting force, And sending it more joyful on its course), I hear thee, spring time warbler of the eve, And wish thy happy form might never leave; But all is transient as the buds of spring, Awhile Joy flutters, Hope is on the wing; But soon a shaft from Fate's unerring bow, Brings down the one and makes the other go. Now wherefore strikes such music on the ear, And why the winter left with nought to cheer ? Why comes the spring in all her grandeur decked, While Nature looks in winter tossed and wrecked ? Why earth so beautiful in every change, Reflections from Nature. And what vast Power could all her scenes arrange ? Did winter come not, Bpring would lose its charm. And earth chilled not would want no spring to warm : Tis change makes change agreeable thro' the earth, 'Tis winter gives the Bummer half its worth. Rut thee, Bweel nightingale, wherefore thy song, Ami why the warblings of the happy throng That nahers in the Beason's pompous queen, And lends i charm to Nature's fairest scene? For one brief moment lei the mind unhend, And by Reflection's aid o'er -pace extend; Within the compass of its outstretched wings Lav fertile fields of hope, and pleasure springs — . pleasure Bprings, the shade of future bliss, If e'er it falls upon a world like tin- ; [fe'er a beam from Heaven's orb can stray, 'Tis surely here it wends its lonesome way ; 'Tis here it sports and cheers the pensive mind, And if it goes leaves no dark trace behind. Time was, but 'twas when time's career began, That beams like these came down direct on man ; Refracted not by that chill atmosphere Thro' which its disk can scarce be noticed here ; Ere hell sent forth its thick and tainted cloud, Reflections from Nature. 39 Which darken'd earth and made for man a shroud ! Say then, sweet songster, in that brilliant time, And in the trees of that celestial clime, Didst thou send forth thy clear unrivalled lay, Thy maiden hymn when earth Hrst closed the day ? Within the calm retreat of Eden's bowers, Didst thou first sing- in man's untarnished hours? And did that sweet enraptured bosom swell With tones as mellow when thy listeners fell? When came the gloomy eve ot vain regret, And earth's bright sun of Happiness was set? Methinks 1 see thee on a trembling sprig, With gloom encompassed and with sorrow big ; Methinks 1 hear thee chant a funeral dirge, When man in tremor stood on Eden's verge ! And when at length the gates were bolted fast, The air was rent with hot Displeasure's blast ; When Adam forthwith from his throne was hurl'd, And lay a bleeding mass upon the world ; And when with countenance weighed down with woe, He looked askance and knew not where to go ; Or taking survey saw the dreary waste In which his partner and himself were placed, 40 Reflections from Nature. And keen remembrance stole across his mind, Reflecting clear the scenes he'd left behind; When on his rough, unshaded, dreary way divw poignant thorns, and brambles thickly lay; While thus be gazed, dejected and forlorn, The stream of Peace . 'd, and Hope was gone ; When ;is an exile on the world's rough face, He stood a heap of terror and disgrace; \\ ben flames of hoi despair consumed his rest, The angelic peace once thriving in his breast, Methinks I hear thee Btriving to destroy Hell's fiendish taunts, and yet foretelling joy 1 Diffusing warmth throughout the chilly air, And bringing hope in contact with despair; Striving in scenes of deepest gloom to cheer, And whispering joyful sounds in Sorrow's ear; I hear thee now in no less happy strains, Speak freedom to the soul tho' bound in chains — Such chains as time like friction wears away, Until much worn they lose at length their sway. O Nature, thou art lovely, lovely all, Or decked by spring, or spread by Winter's pall ; Or when the earth thy morning ray first hails, Reflections from Nature. 41 Or when the sunshine in the evening fails ; As viewed in part or in thy mighty whole, When all is calm, or when thy thunders roll ! 'Tis wonder all ! and yet no mystery hides, ( Except where Sophistry's weak staff resides) 'Tis such a wonder as disperses doubt, And such as finds its wondrous Author out ; Puts Error and its doctrines in the rear, And makes e'en Truth itself stand out more clear ; E'en makes the Atheist's thin fallacy reveal The very truth it striveth to conceal. Now take the flimsy unbecoming veil, And spread it where the purest truths prevail ; — Or where there seems the faintest trait of all, E'en there allow the frail disguise to fall ; See then that outline of Truth's radiant face, Which earth and hell combined can ne'er erase ! Just like yon star that glitters through the night, The darker it, the purer seems its light ! Let Truth and Error bend at Judgment's shrine, The one in her own radiant beauty shine, The other beam in all her borrowed flare, Which never burns save in its native air ; And dazzles but not lightens those who gaze, 42 Reflections from Nature. Or madly flutter in it> Hellish rays; And let impartial Reason's searching 6 Look into both, and see where beauty lies. 'Twere vain to say when brought to such a test, I l".\ vain the garb in which the doll is dressed! So thinly wove that through its thickest folds, The weakest eye its wooden form beholds. Now call in Nature it' Buch aid's required, And see thru Truth in all her robes attired; See Atheism's mansion overtum'd, Her pencilled scenes effaced, her reasoning! Bpurn'd ; Rut what u Nature, and where dwells the soul That sheds this light resplendent o'er the whole? look around with eager, pensive mind, And see if in ('nation thou canst find The slightest trace of Him that fixed her laws, The lightest shadow of a First Great Cause? If not, what throws obstruction in thy way, Diffuses gloom and holds thee in its sway ? There must be something that obscures thy route, And surely light like thine can find it out ! If man were what he seems to thee, a beast, Made for the world and there his glory ceased; Reflections from Nature. 43 Transient as flies that flit in noonday sun, And coining night found all his purpose done ; If all his hopes and all his thinking powers Were just subservient to Life's brief hours; The rapid stream which hears his frail barque, Rushed on to some abyss unknown and dark, And he there dashed where all had fallen before, To be forgot and never rising more ; Just launched to float in vain upon the world, And in Death's storm the sails of Hope were furled, Or rent in pieces by its shivering blast, And all proved but a hapless wreck at last; Then why so struggle on the raging sea Of dire misfortune, pain and misery. That overwhelms him in each route he steers, And batters every hope with doubts and fears ? Why stand the target at which Time may aim His poignant shafts, if there's no prize to claim, When all is finished and the warfare done, Old Time defeated, and the victory won ? Can then the mixture of life's cup be such (So truly pleasant) that we ask so much ? Nay, long experience has fully shown, That on the fairest plots sharp thorns have grown ! M It KFLECTIONS FROM NATURE. Then why delay to breathe the closing breath, \nd calmly sink into the sleep of death > What inward impulse Bays, " Forbear thy hand!" And what that listens to the tlread command? Life, then, so hitter must he sweet BS well, Else musi advancing death some horror tell That claims attention, make- tne bearer shrink. And even »t niggle on Oblivion's brink ! \-k him bowed down and crushed at sorrow's feet, If he can Bay hi- rugged life i< BWeel : Enquire of him whom Fortune has despised, If life is something highly to be prized ; And next of him so courted and caress'd, Admired and loved by all, by Fortune bless'd ; < >f him who hopes indeed, yet fears to die, Believing nought except that Truth's a he; And last of him who craves no longer stay Than Fate ordains, nor fears to pass away ; W ho calmly trudges on his rugged road, And lightens at each step the pilgrim's load : — Ask these, for they can tell if life is joy, So much to be desired, or but a toy ; W ith which Time sports and trifles year by year, Till last of all Death's gloomy face appear ! Reflections from Nature. 4.~> Ask these, for they can tell if human life Is mix'd with pain, a scene of ceaseless strife. 'Tis nought but death then gives to life its charm. The latest storm that makes the sea so calm ! But what this death, this terrible ordeal, And what dread spectacle can it reveal ? It ends life's pangs, all fiction then is o'er, Truth's proved a falsehood, and deceives no more! The body turns a mouldering heap of clay, And life has then for ever passed away. Ah ! is it thus ? let Nature have a word, And let her undisguised appeal be heard ! Let thought rove back through ages of the past, And see ! the lofty summit's gain'd at last ! Was there a time when Nature's course began, Or has she trod Eternity's vast span ? Thought cannot breathe in atmosphere so rare, And Unbelief itself must sicken there ; When time was not then and the stars were none! Earth had not peeped nor called the blazing sun, A vital Spirit through the darkness came, Sent forth a spark and puffed it to a flame; When, lo ! creation's mighty birth took place, And worlds were scatter'd thro' the wilds of space. 46 Reflections from Nature. What follow'd then ? A something touch'd the whole, And on the vast machine began to roll ; Then man in undisguised beauty came, And call'd these mighty work- by Nature's name. But what tin- ihingf what this unseen power, '1 hat raised from nought Creation's wondrous tower? A fabric so stupendous that the mind Might rove for yean nnnumber'd, and ne'er rind The boundary <>1 Nature's vast demesne, Or e'en thro' Fancy's glai every Bcene! What, but that Spirit that exists in all. And at whose word must man and Nature fall ! This like an exhalation be dispersed, That enter life when Lite's thin ahell is burst; 'Twere vain for Sophistry to tread this route, For there she blushes while the Truth stands out. Then touch her not, engage in no such fight, Lest all thine airy bubbles take to flight ! The simple beauty of the grassy blade Will cast thy deepest reasonings in the shadi 47 ETERNITY. iTERNITY! what volumes thou dost speak ! How frail the wings of Thought whene'er they seek To reach thy summit or thy depth to find. Their greatest efforts leave them far behind ! When countless millions of long years have run, Their lengthen'd course, thuu wilt have just begun ! The grains of sand that strew the ocean's shore Are numberless, but thy long years are more; And were the earth reduced to grains so small That through a needle's eye each one might fall, Their number, like a stream, would soon be cross'd, And in thy broad expanse of years be lost ! Were ocean's waters drawn by sparrow's bill, At but one dip per hundred years, e'en still, Eternity would see the ocean spent, As slowly filled, and nought of her be rent ! There's no comparison betwixt the two, 48 Eternity. Thy yean arc many, whereas these are few ; Time from thine orh is but a transient ray. Which gleams awhile but quickly goes away ; A quick revolving, changing satellite, Which Bhines with borrow'd rays tliroughout the night ; And setting soon begins thy sun to rise, Or scorch in Hell, or gently light the skies I — A hill it is too high for thought to gain, A word too hard by far for man to explain. — Life might be spent and all creation die, Ere thought throughout thy wide domain could fly When millions of long ages have been born, E'en then there will no part of thee be gone ! sorbing thought ! too vast for human mind! Tor it were just a.- easy task to find How many particles compose the air, As thy extent to measure by the year. Imagination in its rapid rise !: \ieweth much, and o'er vast regions flies ; It girds the earth and strides to distant stars, Now sits on Saturn, perches now on Mars; And now Time's little isle, may be, explores, But almost ere't has reach'd thy boundless shores Eternity. 49 It 'gins to fag, and fluttering for a time, Returns much shatter'd to its native clime. But why thus strive to rove through thy expanse, Or take with eyes like these a feehle glance ? Were time our footstool it would still be vain To try to gaze through all thy vast domain. But as we climb Life's ladder round by round, 'Twere well to see the point to which we're bound ! If, when the dizzy height of time's attain 'd, Rewards await us which our life has gain'd, 'Twere well to see what hopeful prospects dawn, When, in Life's wake appears thy lengthened morn; If after-life shall through thy years extend, And man thro' all thy space his route shall wend, 'Twere well to see in what propitious sphere Life's sun shall set, and thine at length appear ! If man is destined for a future state, 'Tis time to think, for time is growing late ; He's waxing old, and daily fainter grows, And soon shall all his varied seasons close ! How soon the abyss of death may stop his course, And time give way to Time's destroying force, Remains unknown, enveloped in a veil Which Time must lift ere Death relate his tale ! E 50 Eternity. Then let us pause while on Time's wing we're borne, And let's determine ere brief time be gone. Once more then let us our strayed thoughts reclaim, And then despatch them with a surer aim To some more fixed uudcviating mark, Some hopeful star winch lights a way so dark ! 1 iternity ! of thee we cannot think Too deeply or too long, e'en if we shrink, As from some hideous monster whin we gaze Upon that dark, unknown, and dreary maze, Which thou presentest to the guilty eye Of him who looks, and vainly hopes to die ! Die ! no ; Man is not born the heir to death, Though life takes wing upon his latest breath ! That life but leaves to breathe more genial air, Throws off the changing garb that Time must wear, And stands full clad in robes that he has made, But which Eternity itself can't fade. 'Tis then, unshackled by the Winter's cold, The bud expands and all its leaves unfold ; The germ bursts into life, the shell decays, And lo ! a tree springs up that blooms for endless days ! Life is the narrow path through which we wind Eternity. 51 With rapid steps, which leave their tracks behind ; As in a pathway of unsullied snow, The steps or lineal or erratic show ; At length when all the wayside scenes are pass'd, The weary traveller gains the end at last ; The door unfolds and man is usher'd in, To lose all hope or all his hopes to win. Here 'gins the voyage that will never end, The expanse to which Life's winding streamlets tend ; To some a placid and unruffled lake Where winds are none, whose calm no tempests break ; There floats quiescent but with sails unf'uiTd, The bark so batter'd by the boisterous world ! No winds assail it now, it fears no blast, No treacherous sands, for it is anchor'd fast ; And there its freedom and its bliss arise Tho' anchor'd, free; tho' free, restrain'd by ties ; On floods of bliss the bark unerring glides, For One who needs nor helm nor compass guides ! Like earth it wheels round its effulgent sun, While stars attendant through their courses run — Stars which nor rise nor slink unseen away, But radiant gleam throughout an endless day ! 52 Eternity. Did Truth not call, and bid the soul take flight, From scones of day to those of dreary night, No pen need try to lift the flimsy veil, Which strives to hide truth's ascititious tale! Bui lo ! she calls so with unflinching eye, Gaze where the wrecking forms of misery lie; Look mi the gulf of overwhelming pain, The realms of gloom where direst horrors reign ! Eternity's wide sea, too, opens there And dashes high its billows of despair; A sea whose broad extent can ne'er be cross'd, Where all are devious driven, and all are lost! Eternity ! no mind can pause too long To hear thy thrilling groan or joyous song, To glance thy mansions or thy dismal cell, Where souls for ever and for ever dwell High raised in Heaven or debased in Hell ! 'Tis no light bubble meets the wondering sight, But endless day or an eternal night ! 53 SPRING. SOW beauteous when the winter's pass'd Appears the youthful queen; Her lovely form defeats the storm. And clothes earth's naked scour ! Old Winter and his clan take flight, Their clamour's heard no more ; Spring's genial air wafts peace along, And stills the tempest's roar. The fragrant odour she respires, Deluges earth and air : Her brilliant crown throws plenty down, Her pencil makes it fair ! She speaks of pleasures yet to come, And bids earth courage take ; Drives Frost and all his host away, And says to all, " Awake ! " 54 Spring. " Awake, awake, your work commeii' To work ye sluggards go; The victory's won, but there are none Will reap who do not sow." The twittering birds remind us all That it is time to rise : ' They say, " Make haste, no moments waste, For time so quickly flit With steady and attentive eye, Heboid their quicken'd pace ; With hope refill'd, they haste to build Homes for a future race. They cannot stay, for instinct says The season will not last ; The longest day will slide away, The brightest spring flit past. In gaudy robes each tree is deck'd. Each branch is gaily clad ; A verdant carpet spreads the meads, Earth smiles, and all looks glad ! Spring. The long pent waters now escape From winter's dismal cell ; Bold spring again takes off their chain, And on they joyous swell. And as they rush o'er pebbly bed, Or sluggish drag their way, They seem to sing to genial spring, And grateful homage pay. The croaking frog now roused from sleep, In stagnant pool is heard ; Each blooming tree seems fraught with glee, Each branch a twittering 1 bird. - Then welcome, welcome happy time, Thrice welcome is thy voice ; Its lovely sound spreads joy around, And makes the heart rejoice. It tells us all, and glad the news, That hostile winter's gone ; And bids us gaze on brighter days, Although they're yet unborn. 56 Spring. And while its end is nearer brought By each succeeding day; It bids us seek t' enjoy the spring Which shall not pass a\\;i\ ! Ol EARLY SCHOOLDAY REMINISCENCES. OUD call'd by dear Remembrance to sing The transient days of Life's unclouded spring ! Sweet is the call, and I delight to hear Those not far distant days brought still more near By Recollection's sweetly echoing voice, Which softly whispers that had I my choice Of days that since Life's dawn have pass'd away, 'Twould hover round the scenes of youthful play. Nor wrong my choice if happiness were sought, Nor would those days methinks be dearly bought, Were I to gain them at the heavy cost Of those which losing fast I've not yet lost. Could I a bargain strike with Mr. Time, Once more to take me to that sunny clime, Once more to yield the joyous days he stole, Methinks 'twould be a fortune to my soul ! A fortune ! yes, if happiness can claim 58 Early Schoolday Reminiscences. A rightful heirship to so great a name ; I would not part from happiness to live Where dwell the pleasures that earth's riches give; Alluring gold with all its scenes so bright, Would fail methiuks to turn my eager sight, Were it once fix'd on what is often sought, Pursued bv all but vet so seldam caught ! What leads us on o'er hill and marsh and dale, The time beguiling by some well-told tale. Ambitious he who seeks (though seldom gains) The lofty realms where Bliss unsullied reigns ! And I am one who with a striving world, The more I try seem further from it hurl'd ; Half led to think 'twere no more vain to try To stand on earth and reaching touch the sky, Where they appear in mutual embrace, Than try with mortal's feet her route to trace. O could I find her gate I'd knock aloud, And raise my voice above the murmuring crowd; But not so easy, while we onward go, Each distant hill-top seems its form to show ; We push along warm'd by the hopeful ray. But reaching, find that all is moved away ! And thus decoy'd till all have come in view, Early Schoolday Reminiscences. 59 The final grasp bids all our hopes adieu ; Then slide we off" forgetting and forgot — The race hard run, the prize awarded not. Some perhaps deny the reasoning of my song, Or say my argument is argued wrong ; But yet not so, whoever seeks will find The game indeed in sight, but he far oil' behind ; He gains the hill where Hope reflected clear This brilliant form, but yet it is not here. Another peak invisible before, Now rises perhaps across some distant moor ; He's seeking something, what he cannot tell, And thus lets fall the kernel, holds the shell ! But still my bow tho' some may think much bent, 1 will not ease, nor say it's Discontent, Or e'en Ambition that has been denied The words to coyish Happiness applied. 'Tis Happiness, or in its purest guise, Or clothed in rags, that meets Ambition's eyes; Man scarcely knoweth when the gem's possess'd, Tho' bare so long he feels not when he's dress'd. Sometimes he's held perhaps in her gracious arms, But yet sees not the radiant face that charms ; "W ith converse sweet his moments she beguiles, GO Early Schoolday Reminiscences. And like a parent smooths his head and smiles ; Hut he unconscious of so dear a friend, Soon brings her frequent visits to an end ; Her light soon dwindles to a feeble spark, Or disappearing leaves him in the dark; And then the darkness like a mirror shows Beauties which else he never sees nor knows. 'Tis so with me, methinks I once could own The fairy object ere her charms had flown. I would not say we always seek in vain, Or that this prize will ne'er return again; Will not be found by those who search the place Where clouds of guilt ne'er veil her beauteous face. But here it is not, never has return 'd In that pure form which human folly spurn'd ; Who finds it now will find it far less pure, Andmix'd with much that grovelling hands procure ; A piece of steel once bright, ate in with rust, A stately mansion once, now turn'd to dust ; A sturdy oak so noble in its day, Now hollow trunk'd and sinking to decay ; A gem the brightest man could ever own, Now substituted by a transient stone ; It once adorn'd the crown that rules the earth, Early Schoolday Reminiscences. 61 But man, poor dupe beguiled, forgot its worth ! A travelling cheat beheld the glittering prize, And by a counterfeit allured his eyes. Man saw and liked the fascinating toy, Unconscious and regardless of alloy; He saw and bartered, and that hapless hour Saw razed to earth a heaven-constructed tower ! Its few remains lie scatter'd here and there, And blest is he who gets his humble share ! Sweet Recollection shows my wandering eyes A pleasing landscape though reduced in size ; A lovely picture this by Memory drawn, A daybreak scene, Life's unpolluted morn. Where'er chance leads me still I love to gaze On thee, dear picture of my early days ! So legibly in every touch I trace The pencill'd outline of a happy face ; It shines in all, tho' somewhat dimm'd by time, Or getting fagged as Life's steep hill we climb The distance now from whence I view the scene, (Though misty clouds at times will intervene,) Reveals such traits as Time shall ne'er efface, But which then seem'd to occupy no place ; The graceful shadow of that happy form 62 Early Schoolday Reminiscences. Is one of these that outlives every storm. O picture hung on walls of Memory's room, Tho' fleeting years may perhaps construct thy tomh ; Tho' leaves so lovely Time's rough winds may blast, Its scent redolent Ion.; as time shall last. A- one first starting from his parent's hands, .lust 'scaping from the soft restraining bands, With steps reluctant and sight lingering yet, Moves slow alon