THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES f # *^i HEOTHA AND MELECH^ \Ni (&tt)tt IBDtms. REV. W. MAClLVVAlNE, D.D. '\>:> Ao? at'iyxi'eti/. ShinnSem. lAm&MAnS, GREi.. . DUBLIN: H-OD(;i BELFAS'I" W . ' HYMNS. lo^ GOOD FRIDAY. H ! the grief, the shame, the sorrow, ^jf^ Thorn-crown'd King, with bleeding brow ! How shall saint or angel borrow Theme from Sufferer such as Thou ! 'Neath Thy cross, dread throne of anguish. Faith would stand in fear to gaze ; See Thee bow Thy head, and languish, Plunged in dark, unknown amaze. Hear Thee, as by God forsaken, Send to heaven Thy pleading cry ; While the dead from sleep awaken, Veil'd in gloom both earth and sky. Depth of mystery ! transcending Height of thought, in earth or heaven : Woe unfathom'd, love unending, Life, through death, mysterious given ! I02 HYMNS. Jesu ! by Thy pains unspoken, Rending rude Thy spotless soul ; J3y Thy blood, love's wondrous token, All Thine anguish, shame, and dole, Cleanse our vileness, by Thy Spirit, In each heart Thy throne restore : Saviour ! Thine be all the merit. Ours, to wonder, and adore ! Hear us, when, in sorrow bending. Sin's deep wounds to Thee we bring ; Help us, when, at brief life's ending, To Thy Cross for aid we cling. HOLY BAPTISM. "ftfex' NDURING is a mother's love, (}j>4 It hath beginning, but no end ; Years may roll on, and seasons move, It ne'er can falter, change, or bend. HYMNS. 103 A mother true can ne'er forget The babe that nestled at her breast ; For her love's toil knows no regret, No sorrow burdens her unrest. Yet love there is, than hers more deep, More pure, with sorer travail fraught, E'en His — the Shepherd of the sheep— Whose life with His own life He bought. Take, then, this Lamb, dear Lord, 'tis Thine, We only render back Thy own ; And seal it with the holy sign That marks Thy chosen ones alone. Oh ! never, in that coming hour, When fierce shall rage the mortal strife. May Thine Almighty love and power Fail to defend Thy servant's life. I04 HYMNS. Soldier and Servant, true and tried, All conflict, death, and danger past, May he stand Victor at thy side, And hear Thy glad " Well done /" at last. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD. -^^ IVE to the earth its dust, Give to the grave its prey ; To God, the great, the just, Then bow the knee, and say — Father ! Thy will be done, Most holy, meet, and right ! Thus pray we, as thy Son, In sorrow's deepest night. And Thou, the Christ, most high. Behold Thy mourners here : Hearken our lowly cry. And consecrate each tear. HYMNS. 105 On Thee, when 'neath Thy breast First beat a human heart, Earth's woe, and wild unrest. Could deepest wounds impart. Then hear us, as we bend, Earthward 'neath sorrow's shade ; Hear, and Thy Spirit send, Dear Lord, to lend us aid. Thou who, where Lazarus lay, Didst silent stand and weep. Here, o'er our kindred clay Kind guard vouchsafe to keep. Thou who didst lay Thee down To rest from deadliest strife, From mockery's robe and crown. From brief yet saddest life. 1 06 HYMNS. Who o'er the darksome grave Didst hope's fair radiance shed, Almighty now to save, To Thee we yield our dead. In surest hope we give Our loved, not lost to Thee : Soon to awake and live From calmest slumber free. Oh ! dawn thou glorious day ! Oh ! come great Conqueror come Ride on Thy glorious way, And bring Thy banished home ! rK+' HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS' DAY. H ! the joy to hold communion, Lord of all, by faith with Thee ! Humbly to the throne approaching Thine unclouded face to see. HYAINS. i°7 Oh ! the bliss, our song to mingle With the multitude's above ! Thus to swell the boundless chorus, Rais'd to Thee, great God of love ! One to feel with highest angels, Ever waiting on Thy will ! One to be with saints departed, Living in our memory still ! Where the Martyrs' noble army, Crown'd and white-robed round Thee stand, Upward borne, on faith's strong pinion, We would join that glorious band. Thee, the Lord, creation's centre, Thee, the Christ, Redeemer, King ; Thee, in jubilee united, Earth and heaven exulting sing. lo8 HYMNS. HARVEST HYMN. LL bounteous Lord of harvest, Beneath whose gracious hand A thousand hills, rejoicing, Spread blessing o'er our land ; The clouds above drop fatness, The valleys sing below, While wave the sheaves, bright golden, The streams in gladness flow. All praise to Thee, Creator ! Thy tender love and pow'r Still clothe the grass with verdure, With fairest hues the flovv'r : All praise to Thee, Preserver ! Thy ceaseless guardian care Spreads wide its shade and shelter O'er earth, and sea, and air. From Thee the dew descended. From Thee the gentle rain. HYMNS, 109 Thine was the sun that ripen'd Each bending field of grain : Thou crownest with Thy gladness This joyous Autumn-tide ; While peace and smiling plenty O'er all our homes preside. Praise for our labour ended, For bam and store-house filled ! Praise for the ripe fruits gather'd From fields that labour tilled ! And when Time's course is over, Life's day of travail past. May we be safely garner'd With Christ's own sheaves at last ! Amen. no HYMNS. HYMN OF PRAISE. September, 1S70. RAISE the Lord, ye hosts above, Praise Him for His boundless love. Praise Him, sons of men below, Laud His mercy's ceaseless flow : His the hand that open'd gives Good to all that breathes and lives ; His the arm our life defends, His the goodness never ends — Praise Him, earth and heaven above, Praise the God of boundless love ! Golden fields of ripen'd grain. Plenty clothing hill and plain. Garners fill'd with winter store, Corn-heaps spread on threshing-floor,- HYMNS. 1 1 1 These the gifts His love bestows, Each His tender mercy shows — Praise Him, earth and heaven above. Praise the God of boundless love ! Glad we raise our choral strains, For the peace that o'er us reigns ; Prince of peace ! Thy sway extend ; Soon may war and tumult end ; Oh ! let strife and sin be hurl'd Far from this, Thy ransom'd world — Let the nations join to raise Loud Redemption's song of praise — Praise Him, earth and heaven above. Praise the God of boundless love ! Amen. -o^.<0o- SACRED MUSINGS. — ►t:n— THE BANKS OF BOON. WEET Bard of Ayr, these lonely paths were thine, These sights and sounds of nature gladdened thee; Thy heart once thrilled responsive, as now mine, Amid this scene of summer jubilee. Blithe speeds fair Doon along her wonted way, As erst she sang sweet solace to thine ear, Her wild flowers' bloom, her wild birds' warbled lay, Still joyous are, as when her Bard was here. Nature's calm loveliness is all unchanged As when roamed here, in boyhood's spring, her child ; As when, o'er bank and brae, joyous he ranged. And hymned her praise, in murmurs sweet and wild. SA CRED MUSINGS. 1 1 3 And still, methinks, his spirit weaves its spell Weird-like and deep, within, above, around, Emotions, fancy fraught, awake to tell That Boon's fair grassy side is hallow'd ground. Would that thy feet, poor Bard, had never left These paths of love and peace, to wander far ' 'Mid devious ways, of peaceful blessings reft. Which here for nature's children treasured are. Oh ! that through Nature's voice a holier still Had reached thine ear attent, and woo'd thee on, A yet more peaceful path to tread, until Thy spirit to heaven's fount of light had gone ! Alas ! that chains of earth should bind a soul. Destined on high to soar, unshackled, free ; Alas ! that such degenerate control Should mar thy spirit's high-born pedigree ! I 14 SACRED MUSINGS. Yet whispers Hope, that He whose arm can save, At sad life's close, when death and darkness lower, Smiled on thy deepest gloom, and smiling gave Light to thy spirit in that awful hour. Whispers, — those early lessons pondered here, And at the humble cotter's hour of prayer, At length awaked, to dry the anguished tear. And ray with peace the pallid brow of care. Flow on, fair Doon, the music of thy voice, The fragrance of thy banks and blithesome braes, May bid another spirit yet rejoice, When mingled with the thoughts of by gone days. Farewell to thee ! and thanks, thou peaceful stream ; This lonely hour, thus spent by thy calm side, Shall leave its record, as of happy dream, A gleam of sunshine o'er life's troubled tide. yune 4, i849. SA CRED MUSINGS. 1 1 5 SURSIM CORD A. IVERS, though parted far, to ocean run, Clouds soar on high, yet end their course on earth ; Sparks seek their life-fount in the glorious sun, Thus all created things declare their birth. All, save the human sprite ; — wild wand'ring far, A cloud, careering on each passing blast ; Unsphered and pathless, like some restless star On the dread waste of being blindly cast. Poor wanderer turn, nor the sole outcast prove Of all creation ; turn thee, where alone Thy parentage is heralded — above, — There be thy resting-place — Jehovah's throne. That seek, and stedfast track the upward way, With thy Creator's viewless glory bright ; The end — His presence — and thy guiding ray. Shed from the day-spring of eternal light. r 1 6 SACRED MUSINGS. Nor yet despond, as upward thou dost tend ; Not few the flow'rets which around thee spring, Fragrant and pure, upon whose petals blend Hues bright as those which glow on angel wing. Drops, too, shall dew thee from life's flowing fount, Taste these, but strain to reach their stainless source, Seek yonder height, till on its topmost mount, With joy untold, shall end thy finished course. A REVERIE. t CLOUD reclining lay at heaven's high gate, Waiting the coming dawn's first sun-lit hour. When all creation should, in solemn state. Arise, to greet its God's awakening power. But tedious rolled the night away, And robed that cloud in garment gray. SACRED MUSINGS. I ' 7 As the dew uprose from stream and hill, And seemed its bosom but to fill With darkness — for it wept As though it had not slept The live-long night, but had sorrowed on For the mom, when dreary night were gone. And it came — the morning, rosy-clad, With a gush into life, how bright, how glad ! Mine eye looked up, but turned again. Dazzled and dimmed with the crimson rain That showered from the source of light above, So gorgeous, that in vain I strove To look, for eye might not behold That sea overhead of liquid gold. Then I glanced at the cloud, and it smiled, Tinted with radiance mild, How lovely none might say Who had not seen its skirts of gray, 1 1 }i SA CRED MUSINGS. Late dark and cold, now glowing With that smile of heaven's bestowing. And I thought — oh! I thought — there's a lesson here- Lord, teach it me ! Should earth and earthly things appear Cloud-like and dark, weeping and drear — I'll wait on Thee. Thy smile can make all darkness glad and bright — And gild with joy the longest, dreariest night. •' IHl '' THE HOUSEHOLD ALTAR. Lines designed for a Book of Family Prayer. "Xil^THEN fair morning, garbed in gladness, r!!c) Streaks the radiant Eastern skies, Chasing far night's dewy sadness. Hence let grateful prayer arise. SA CRED MUSINGS. 1 1 9 When mild evening westward tendeth, To her cloudy couch and dim, Where night's shade with silence blendeth, Hence be raised the parting hymn. Morn and eve, around this altar, Glad may hearts and voices blend, Ne'er may faith's devotion falter, — Still let incense sweet ascend : Praise to Thee, who all sustainest; — Praise to Thee, Eternal Son ; — Praise to Thee, who ever reignest, With the Christ and Father One. rt-^ THE FLOWER GATHERED. )[[ HEARD a prayer ascend from earth to heaven, ^ " Bless, Lord, our child, and make him Thine !" it cried ; Thy Spirit to His opening heart be given !" " Amen !" a tender voice, and low, replied. 120 SA CRED MUSINGS. Once more I heard a strain ascend on high, In blessing to the Giver of all grace, — " Lord, on our child of promise bend Thine eye, — Hope of our years, — fair scion of our race !" Yet, once again, I heard a bitter cry, — " Oh ! spare, good Lord ! nor cut our flow'ret down!" And burden'd was that prayer with tear and sigh, •' Hear, God of pity ! hear, and hide Thy frown !" Too soon a sound up-rose, from hearts sore rent, " Woe worth the day ! our child ! our only son !" But when affliction's direst pang was spent. Submissive, silent, came, "Thy will be done !" Once more, I heard an echo, solemn, clear. Like softest whisper of a summer-eve ; Downward it floated to mine open'd ear, And seemed the hidden home of God to leave. SA CRED MUSINGS. 1 2 1 " The prayer is heard," it said, " the promise seal'd, Gaze upward, Faith, not earthward, not around ; Banish'd be sorrow, wounded hearts be heal'd ; The lamb is folded, Christ's young soldier crown' d.'' 1+^ A DREAM. ' ' / dreamed a dream, 'tis past. Too sweet it 7uas to last.''^ X^THENCE and whither, Baby dear, ^ZcT Sleeping, sleeping ! Spring is on us, bright and clear, No cloud weeping. Bud and blossom, bank and brae, All are smiling ; Song-birds wake, and soar away, Care beguiling. Still thou sleepest, daughter mine, Calmly, purely ; 122 SACRED MUSINGS. Lonely, peaceful, half-divine, All securely. Art thou wearied with the way Left behind thee ? Dost thou shun earth's glaring day Lest it blind thee 1 Ah ! though still thy sleep and long, Thou art teaching Deeper truths than sage's tongue, Solemn preaching. For, thine eye, whene'er it opes, Whispers to us Sermons true, of joys and hopes Sent to woo us. Sent to woo us from below Upward yonder ; Where, by joy's perennial flow, Angels ponder. SACRED MUSINGS. 123 Blest the Father's hand that sends Thee, love's token ! Love divine, that never ends True, unbroken ! Ah ! thou smilest. Baby love ! Dost thou hear us ? Or, do angel-wings above Hover near us ? Dearest ! thus may angel-hands Guard thee ever ; Bear thee in their unseen hands, Leave thee never ! May the God of angels, too. Be thy Keeper, Life's uncertain journey through, Tiny sleeper ! Then, as now, may thine eye be Smiling, tearless ! And thine heart from sorrow free. Trusting, fearless ! 124 SACRED MUSINGS. PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. Sonnet. |AKE Staff in hand, young pilgrim, ere the height Of life's hot noon allure thee to the shade Of treacherous bye-paths and illusive glade. Morn is the time for travel, and the night Slow comes, yet sure, when oft way-faring wight On the lone mountain-tops, alas ! has strayed, To ruin by the Tempter's wiles betrayed. Oh ! haste thee, then, while yet the heavens are bright, And dew is on thy path : though strait it be, Upward it tends, to where no sin, nor pain. Nor sorrow enters. Lift thine eyes and see The City's golden gates, where those who gain The crown, as Christ it gained, shall welcomed be With psalm and shout, yea, all heaven's minstrelsy. SA CRED MUS INGS. i 2 5 JERUSALEM. ^ ITY ! brighter than the sun, Than the silver moon more fair ; Height, by saints and martyrs won, CHmbed through want, and woe, and care — Oft, methinks, I see thy gates. Each a pearl, of purest ray ; Hear the jubilee which waits Those who walk thy golden way ; View thy walls, as crystal clear, Built with gem and precious stone ; Bring thy vision'd glories near. Catch the radiance of thy throne ; Pause to hear the central psalm Rising lound the fount of love, Where the white robe and the palm Grace that host, all hosts above. And should earth come gliding in, Such brief moments' bliss to blight— 126 SACRED MUSINGS. Strong temptation, dream of sin, Cloud of sorrow, shade of night — Still thy brightness o'er me shed, Draws to heaven the silent prayer- Oh ! the paths of peace to tread ! Least and lowest — only there ! OCCASIONAL PIECES. L'bi quid datur oti Illudo chartis. Horace. OCCASIONAL PIECES. INKERMANN, 1854. Extract from a Soldier's Letter to his Wife, after the Battle — ' ' Thank God I am safe ! when I knelt in my tent at night to thank Him for my safety, I felt sure that you and the children had been praying for me, and that your prayers were heard." LONELY English cottager Knelt by her lowly bed : It was a widow'd spot to her, Yet wept she not the dead. Beside her knelt a tender child ; Asleep another lay : Unconsciously the baby smiled ; The boy said, " Mother, pray !" The mother prayed, though scalding tears Ran down her pallid cheek ; 130 OCCASIONAL PIECES. She prayed to Him who ever hears, Though lips refuse to speak. For him she prayed who, from her side, To regions bleak and far Had gone, to stem the crimson tide Of carnage and wild war. Short was that prayer : to Him it sped Who sees the sparrow fall — To shield from death that loved one's head, To stay the murderous ball. " O Saviour ! from the carnage home The father, husband, send ; From blood, from sin, oh ! bid him come, Thou great, almighty Friend !" " Amen, O God !" the boy replies : " Now, mother, let us sleep. Sweet mother ! dry these weeping eyes ; God will my father keep." The morning dawn'd on Inkermann, OCCASIONAL PIECES. 13^ Through clammy mist and cold ; O'er vale and height the war-tide ran, Midst foemen stern and bold. Like thunder, 'gainst the mountain's side Muscovia's myriads broke ; And Britain's sons withstood the tide, As stands her forest oak. Back rolls that flood — again it heaves, Then backwards rolls again ; And with each surging movement leaves Whole ranks of earth-trod men. A cloud spreads o'er that countless host, Blood-fringed ; it reels — it flees : Where now last midnight's ban and boast 1 What scatter'd hosts are these ? The sun rose high on Inkermann : It was a field of blood ; Yet, stern and proudly, in the van Old England's heroes stood. 132 OCCASIONAL PIECES. And Gallia chased the fleeing foe : Her vengeful volleys sped, Till mount and valley, high and low, Lay cumber'd with the dead. The red sun sets on Inkermann, And leaves a fearful sight : Oh ! ne'er again may Britons scan So dread a field of fight I And from that low and tented ground, Where England's legions lie, Ascends full many a thrilling sound From those who bleed and die. And ministering angels there Swift ply their task of love ; Good hope, strong aid, they joyful bear From Him who reigns above. He hears, amid the battle's height. Prayer's low and earnest breath ; And rays of Heaven's own purest light Gild e'en that field of death. OCCASIONAL PIECES. '33 Night closes on the sanguine scene, And from a darksome tent, The dying and the dead between, The voice of praise is sent. A lonely man, who, 'mid that day Of strife, and blood, and death, Had fought unscath'd, now kneels to pray And praise, for life and breath. And in that hour he thought of her ; He thought, and thankful, smiled — The lonely English cottager, The praying wife and child. " God heard their prayer;" he thought again ; Once more he praised, and wept ; Then, midst that host of weary men, The Christian soldier slept. 134 OCCASIONAL PIECES. THE MIGHTY ONE AND THE MIGHTIER. The death of the Czar Nicholas, March 1, 1855. STERN and stalwart man Sits solitary in his regal hall, Though shades of deepening twilight round him fall, And there has sate and mused, since eventide began. Amidst his kingly state, Obedient to the lightest warning sound, A thousand serfs and ministers around, Upon their mighty master's summons trembling wait. Vet heeds he not : alone, With gaze on misty visions straining set, Hands clench'd, and teeth in firmest fixture met, From his pent heart he breathes a long-drawn, stifled groan. Beneath that strong right hand A crumpled missive lies : it came from far. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 135 With words of haste and dread and sanguine war, Midst Ottoman and Russ, in the Crimean land. Starts from his dream the Czar, And instant, at his bidding, Hghts appear, While through the Winter-palace, far and near, Sounds of disaster steal, and yet more fearful war. " Ho ! bear this mandate wide ; Through Sclave and Cossack to Siberia's snows. To Caucasus, and where the Euxine flows, To Lap, and Fin, and where my Tahtars fiercely ride ; " To arms ! for heaven and Me ! No man in all my Empire may abide Unarm'd : one whelming blow shall soon decide Who on this Earth's wide space her mightiest shall be!" That dread ukase is sign'd, And sent with speed of terror through the land, 136 OCCASIONAL PIECES. To arm, for deadliest conflict, every hand ; — Haste, millions, haste ! nor heed the woe ye leave behind ! 'Tis midnight ; and his rest. That mighty one, encanopied in pride. Has sought, yet restless rolls from side to side, Ah ! rarely calm repose on such a brow has prest. His eyes are closed in vain : The vision rises of a gory field Where Russia's chivalry is forced to yeld, — 'Tis Eupatoria meets that frowning gaze again. Down from his vision'd throne Another mighty one doth fiercely speed, With heart and hand prepared for darksome deed, And on his dread intent thus wends he forth, alone. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 137 From other worlds he hies : Beyond the path of changing moon, or sun, Or where the stars their noiseless journey run, His dark and silent Empire dim and shadowy lies. His face is hidden deep In a gray cloud, veiling those hollow eyes, Where untold mystery enshrouded lies, With noiseless tread he comes, like dream of haunted sleep. Athwart a field he glides. Whose corses yet unburied thickly strew The blood-stain'd sod ; a lurid smile gleams through That cloudy veil ; then onward, whirlwind-throned he rides. On through the wide domain Of that unquiet sleeper hath he flown ; Then stands beside his couch : one stifled groan, — .\nd. Death ! another King confesses Thou dost Reign ! 138 OCCASIONAL PIECES. A CRY TO THE CROWD. A fragment from an unptibliihed Drama. July IS64. ScENK — Ultottia — Eirenophilos Loquitur. EE how it raineth ; and the drops are red ! A tempest wildly rages, and its gusts Are not of Earth. Around, above, is borne A sound more awful far. The shrilling curse, The execration, shouts that breathe of hell. The red Sirocco of wide-wasting wrath, The blasting joy o'er what makes angels weep, — Such the fell storm which revels round, upborne On an arch-demon's wing. Just God ! it rains Again ; and every drop is reddest blood ! These gluts that stain the corners of the ways, The flinty paths of late where labour trode. Are blackest gore. Dear Lord ! it is of brothers ! Ho ! pause, ye madden'd crowds. Oh ! stay and hearken ! OCCASIONAL PIECES. 139 If that within those palpitating breasts, Where burns a flame, kindled in deepest hell, There linger yet one throb of Earth, — Oh ! if Ye be not all transfigured quite, and made Into his likeness, whose behests ye've wrought, Mad with the wine of Sodom ; — stay and hearken ! Look at your hands ! They're red with kindred blood. Look in each others' faces ! are they human ? Look at these mangled limbs ! Hear that wild wail, The wail of widowhood and orphanage ; — See this pale brow, redden'd with oozing brain. This face, which once bore semblance of the God Who made it, and yourselves, His handiwork, All smeared with gore, and jelly-like, and swollen. By bludgeon-blows. The wife who kissed, yestreen, That face, would know it not, on this dark day ! The little-ones, that clambered to his knee, Would loathe, and screaming flee that father now ! 1 40 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Look round : yes, see the theatre of woe That circles you. Here were your orgies held. These roofless homesteads, doorless, windowless ; These fireless hearths ; these crying innocents Your bludgeons drove from school and tenderness To death and hate ; — out, out upon ye all ! The very hordes of hell, whom thus ye served, Might turn their backs upon your company. Midst acts and scenes like these. Woe worth the day ! Woe worth the day ! when deluge, such as this, Burst o'er its bounds, and desolated all. Around, beneath, making a wilderness Where late a garden smiled. Who sent it forth ? Ay, who shall answer that ? who raised this storm % Who cleft the bank, and bade these waters flow. This wave of bitterness, and hate, and death ? OCCASIONAL PIECES. MI Draw near, ye coward, carrion-hearted crew, That stand aloof, and shame to meet the gaze Of fellow-men. How will ye meet your God's 1 Ha ! skulking scribes, fine Journalists, forsooth ! Look here, and see how nobly ye have wrought ! Ye blatant demagogues, with voices loud And gesture fierce, who prated late of Law, Justice, and Country, Rights of men, Reform, Ascendancy, the glorious Constitution, Your Liberty of Conscience ; and the rest Of that vile cant on which ye rang the changes, And called it Patriotism. Where are your tongues, Your noise and courage now 1 was it for this Ye battened on your victims, and proclaimed The coming age of liberty and light 1 And ye ! — oh ! ye be-dizen'd sepulchres, Ye black-gown'd mockers of the priesthood ! ye Whose mission was to preach goodwill and peace, Fulfill'd by yells of faction, party, strife, Where are ye now ? Stand up and face the flocks 142 OCCASIO.VAL PIECES. Thus tended, taught, hounded to blood and death ; Christ all-forgotten, in the fierce crusade Ye heralded. Reap your reward I O sirs ! It is a day of darkness and of gloom. I dare not rail, yet is this pent-up heart Swell'd nigh to bursting. Country, brotherhood, Home-stead and hearth, the lenderest ties of earth. The fruit of honest toil, the noblest rites Of holiest faith, Love's fairest flowers and fruit ; — All, all are sweeping by, in that foul stream, Torn by the hand of faction from the side Of yonder mountain, where it lurked and boiled, Fed at its roots by Hinnom's foulest flood. O men ! O brothers ! will ye have it so ! Is there no spot of human flesh and blood Within those hearts of stone ? Are there no founts Of human feeling, 'neath those glaring eyes. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 143 Whence tears might rain, and prove ye yet are men ; To wash these stains from your polluted hands, To send one covering cloud to angry heaven, And draw down mercy, e're its vengeance strike ? Ah ! then ye weep: thank God for those deep groans, Heart-felt at length ! Send up your strongest cries To highest heaven. Down, low upon your knees ! Ay, lower still, into the very dust. And there lay every head, while every heart Is on the bosom of your mother laid, And smites to hers in penitential throbs. Mourn, mourn, O land and city ! Merchants mourn, Sheriffs, and Councillors, and Magistrates ; All people mourn ! The rich, the poor, the babe, That hangs all-helpless at the mother's breast. And the strong father. Hear, O heaven, the cry, And be thy bolts of vengeance laid aside. Now, by the land that gave us common birth ; 144 OCCASIONAL PIECES. The wombs that bore us and the paps we sucked ; Oh ! by the love of heaven, the dread of hell ; The joys of paradise, the dole of doom ; That love which yearned from the Eternal throne To lowest depth of human misery ; By His, the Christ of dark Gethsemane And shameful Golgotha ; — hear, one and all ! Vow to ofifended heaven, that never more Shall strife, and party, and ensanguin'd feud Drive God and human nature from your hearts To make them demon-haunts. Amen, Amen ! Oh ! men and brothers — weep, and pray, and vow, Each rise, and grasp the proffered hand of each, Then love and labour — live and die, in peace ! OCCASIONAL PIECES. I45 THE BURIAL OF PRINCE ALBERT. December 23, 1861. STw\ IMLY wound the plumed array <^^:^ Sable-clad, and mute with woe, From the darken'd portal, slow ; — Bared each head along the way. Constant boomed the minute-gun, Drooped the Royal standard's fold, All around the tidings told That a Great-one's course was run. And the silent-rolling tear, Down the cheek of old and yqung, Tells, more plain than voice and tongue, That the Good lies stricken here. In that home, where princes sleep 'Neath the ancient chapel floor, Regal scion, monarch hoar. Stand the mourners, — stand and weep. 146 OCCASIONAL PIECES. In their midst the Great and Good Lies, cut down like goodly flower, Shed before the Autumn-hour, — Therefore mourns the multitude. On him lay a people's care, — Him a partner tried and true. Loved ; and sought to think and do, Counsel'd by his wisdom rare. He a mighty nation's trust Owned, and kept unsullied. All Wailing now his noon-day-fall Knew him wise and felt him just. Therefore 'tis a nation's woe Darkly girds these mourners round : Never wider-wailing sound Rose to heaven from grief below. Pealing organ, chant and hymn, Blazon'd hatchment, banner brave OCCASIONAL PIECES. 147 Drooping o'er the open'd grave, Torches glare 'midst shadows dim ; These-^-and last, the drear bequest, " Earth to earth, and dust to dust," Tell how e'en the mighty must Gather to the common rest. Sinks the bier, slow, still, and deep, Dimly down its dark descent ; O'er it orphans' sobs are blent With such tears as orphans weep. On that breast lay sword and casque, Place a crown, with jewels bright ; Kings are crown'd for birth or might, This was won for nobler task. For him no war-beacon flamed. He could boast no human hearts Rent and blighted. Science, arts, Him their Prince and Patron claimed. 14^ OCCASIONAL PIECES. All, besides, of good and true Whispered to us from above, Won his worship, had his love, Princely aid and service, too. Lower sinks the vanished bier, Trumpets speak woe's pageant o'er, Earth can add no tribute more To the honours render'd here. Stay ! one other offering comes : Noiselessly a step draws nigh, Hid from gaze of curious eye. Low, among the kingly tombs. On that coffin-lid are seen. Silent-placed, twin chaplets fair, Fragrant violets, wound with care Through bright moss, dew-dropped, and green. At the early morning-tide, Sister-orphans' loving hands OCCASIONAL PIECES. 149 Culled and wove these simple bands, As they thought of him that died : Thought, and wept, and kissed each flow'r, Emblem of the Good and Meek : Placed it there, and bade it speak, Fragrant of affection's power. And beside these crowns are laid Gathered flow'rets : purely white, Shines that central one, as light Piercing e'en through death's dark shade. These with silent tears are dew'd, Tears whose bitterness is known By the widow'd heart alone, Shed in widow'd soHtude. Royal gifts ! oh ! leave them there : Richest gems might purchased be ; But with those here laid on thee, Loved and Lost ! may none compare. ISO OCCASIONAL PIECES. Nay ; not lost : the setting sun, Cloud-encircled, sinks to rise Fairer far in Eastern skies Through the dim night-watches won. So, beyond the darkness here, Dawns the resurrection-morn, Bright with joys as yet unborn All undimmed by cloud or tear. ►«*+• ON THE DEATH OF GEO. LILLIE CRAIK. June 25, 1S66. S falls the soldier on some foughten field, War's banner bravely waving on before ; With heart and hand that never knew to yield, All-dauntless stricken, ere the fight be o'er ; — As sleeps the reaper, midst the heaps of corn, Feird by the swarthy hand, ere sinks the sun. Whose arm has strewn the grain, from early morn. Then rests beneath his head, his task scarce done; — OCCASIONAL PIECES. 15 1 Thus, with the drops of toil upon thy brow, Thine eye undimm'd, still nerved for work thy frame, Friend ! hast thou heard the call to rest thee, now, — Heard and obeyed, as from thy Lord it came ? Thy sun sank not at noon, nor yet went down Midst cloud and darkness, as on wintry day ; — Just as an autumn-eve, with golden crown, Glowing, yet peaceful, silent gUdes away. Strong-minded, forceful, labour-fraught thou wert, Yet patient, gentle, ever mirthful, mild ; Stern in Truth's cause, as man with weapon girt. Still moved at Sorrow's tale, like very child. Rugged thy path and toil-worn ; yet, around Breathes many a fragrant flower, nursed by thy hand ; And duteous way-farers shall still be found To track thy foot-prints through our father-land. No trumpet blared its war-note o'er thy grave. Nor civic pomp, nor herald-rite was there ; Yet " dust to dust" most true affection gave, Deep sorrow mingling with the parting prayer. 152 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Mayhap this lowly resting-place may prove A shrine for holy thought, in years to come, When filial Reverence, and musing Love, With pilgrim-foot shall stand beside thy tomb. And some, whose steps first 'neath thy kindling smile, Up Poesy's fair hill aspiring trod, May hither wend, after long years of toil. To plant fresh flow'rets o'er this sacred sod. Calmly and gently hast thou laid thee down. Thine eye still heavenward, whence the summons came; Sleep, — till thy hand shall reach to take the crown The Christ shall give, to all who loved His name. ON THE DEATH OF J. W. B. ARCHITECT. 1869. In iW[em0rtam. y^^ LEEP where the hand of friendship fond hath c^ laid thee, — Sleep where the tear of love bedews the sod ; OCCASIONAL PIECES. 153 Rest where nor friend can fail nor foe upbraid thee, — Rest where the weary seek repose — with God. Clouds o'er thy morning gathered : sadly, dreary, Pilgrim of promise ! closed thy life's brief day ; Ere its noon-height was reached, alone and weary, Though bravely struggling, didst thou wend thy way. Then sank thy sun, ere yet mild eve had found thee, Cloud-covered, hasting to the distant west ; And thou to slumber yieldedst, while around thee Tenderly watched the few who loved thee best. Brief span ! stern strife ! who is there has not striven, Worthy to leave his mark on Memory's page ? There lies no path to praise, to fame, to heaven. Save o'er that height around which conflicts rage. And thou hast conflict known \ Life's battle over, Calm be the slumber of thy peaceful grave ; Uncrown'd by blazon'd arms, yet o'er it hover Bright memories, like sunlight o'er dark wave. Methinks I see a youthful dreamer wander. Broad-browed and pensive, near the haunts of men ; 154 OCCASIONAL PIECES. By silent stream and mead he loves to ponder, Then homeward turn, to toil and dream again : Views in far vision wondrous forms up-springing, Temple and tow'r, proud palace, noble's hall ; Smiles at the syren song young Hope is singing, Smiles, yet still follows where his musings call. Where Art reveals her countless bright creations. Where Science preaches to the wond'ring crowd ; Where Commerce spreads her mart for distant nations, Sending from quay and shore her navies proud ; Where, loo, The Cross o'er Christian temple glistens, Whence praise and prayer in mingled incense rise. Where the rapt multitude still stands and listens, Woo'd from earth's vanities to seek the skies ; There is thy field, young dreamer ! thou hast ta'en it; These be thy monuments that round us stand : Fame ! didst thou seek it 1 Honour ! didst thou gain it ? Answer ! the echoes of thy native land. Then rest thee. Friend and Brother, toil nor sorrow. Care nor care's shadow can thy spirit reach : OCCASIONAL PIECES. 155 Tears such as ours from hope a brightness borrow ; Labour and love like thine Life's truest lesson teach. •+H^ CHERBOURG IN FIFTY-EIGHT. I. AY, summer -sun, hast thou beheld A fairer, gladder scene, From east to west, through all thy course Wide as that course has been 1 Hast thou seen brighter-flower'd meads ;— Rivers more blithely flow ? 'Neath all thy path did orange-groves More fresh and fragrant blow 1 Or didst thou mark more grape-clad vines ;- Fields of more golden grain ; — Gardens more fresh and trimly prankt, In all thy wide domain ? 15^ OCCASIONAL PIECES. And say — did swain and village maid More gaily, deftly dance Than midst the hamlets, o'er the lawns Of sunny, smiling France 1 See yonder crowded capital. For ball and masque array'd, Loud laughter reigns on boulevard wide, And joy on the parade ; Where myriad soldier-citizens, Are practised for the strife, While thrilling sights, and mimic fights Make glad the Townsman's life. Yet one there is, amidst it all. With pale and care-worn brow, Alone and far apart he sits Silent and thoughtful now • Those sounds seem but to clothe that brow With darker, deeper care, And none is near that reverie. So sullen-sad, to share. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 157 He starts — " They shout again ! again ! What mean they 1 peace or war 1 Why ! on a thousand missions I've sped them near and far. Algeria's sands — Sebastopol — Kathay remote from home ; — My eagles proud and bayonets Begird the walls of Rome ! The wide, wide sea ! my gallant fleets Cruise round each bay and coast, 'Mid Polar ice, and tropic tide My standards flaunt and boast ; — And yet they shout, and still they cry And clamour "War or work !" I've tried it. How I've tried it — Bear witness Russ and Turk. Still restless heaves that human tide ; Then whither 1 land or sea 1 Roll on ye seething millions. But leave my crown to me !" 15^ OCCASIONAL PIECES. With lip comprest and murmuring He ponders, while his gaze, To all the thrilling present lost, Rests on the future's haze. Sudden he strides the chamber through, Then stands, nor speaks the while, And o'er that pallid visage plays A new unwonted smile. His Sovereign will straight he indites ; — With more than lightning-speed, The trembling wire a message bears, — Ye nations ! now take heed. Whither then speeds it ? What the word That voiceless message brings ? Summons it armies to the field % Shakes it the thrones of kings % Bids it proud navies bend their prows, Their snowy wings outspread, For near or distant enterprise ? — For what that mandate sped ? OCCASIONAL PIECES. 159 II. Within her bower a lady sits Hard by the deep sea side, Beneath, a score of good oak-ships Secure at anchor ride. Hers are the prows that anchor there, And o'er the bounding main A flag unconquer'd wide they bear. Wide as that ocean-reign. No foot of tyrant ever spurned That lady's island-home ; His distant threat may vaunt itself But never nearer come. Nor Slavery dares those prows to cross O'er ocean's pathway wide, As ever free and fearless Its billowy plains they ride. III. That lady's hand a pacquet holds — She breaks its seal and reads ; l6o OCCASIONAL PIECES. A flush has mantled o'er her cheek, A moment's pause succeeds : And then a smile, once more she reads, Then frankly smiles again ; An instant calmly thinks — then speeds An answer from her pen. As 'neath the height, outstretch'd she sees Those stately vessels lie, Mantles a bright flush o'er her brow, Joy glances from her eye. Soon circled by that navy's pride O'er the blue wave she floats, While peal around their thundering sound, A thousand brazen throats. IV. The autumn-sun slow westward sinks, Raining his golden shower. On rippling wave and arsenal, And cannon-crowded tower. OCCASIONAL PIECES. i6i Beneath, a navy proudly rides, A gay and gorgeous sight, Its level yards and towering masts With countless streamers dight. And topmost floats the dancing flag Bright-streak'd with colours three, — Full gallantly all flout the breeze That bears away to sea. Midmost, on lofty quarter-deck Paces a silent man. While peering far his glancing eyes The western waters scan. 'Tis not the broad sun's setting state That rivets thus his view. Though bright with gold his cloud-girt throne, And rich the welkin's hue : But fixed is still that straining eye On yonder distant speck, Nor heeds the gorgeous, golden rays The western sky that deck. M l62 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Another rises to his view — Another — upward glide Tall forms which, cloud-like, bear along That sun-bright evening-tide. They come — they near — before each prow White foams the parting wave. Nor e'er, till then, those castled cliffs Such thundering echoes gave. From height to height the booming sounds Midst cloud and darkness rise, Fleet sends to fleet the stern salute Till fade from view the skies. Ceases at last the deaf ning din, The golden eve shines clear, And loud rings forth, from sea to shore A thrilling British cheer. Thy height, Lahogue, erst heard that sound, A hundred years, and more OCCASIONAL PIECES. 1 63 Have sped their course, since last it rang Around thy shelving shore. 'Twas victory then inspired the shout, l!^'ow peace bears joyous sway, As twice ten thousand Britons cheer In Cherbourg's spacious bay. V. High festival in Cherbourg reigns, Its harbour, towers, and down, While countless navies o'er its tide Send glancing brightness down. Blithe is the fete, wide-spread the feast, In mansion proud and hall. While welcome bland, and joyous peace. Reign smiling over all. The Ruler of the million-host Has grasped the fair right hand Of her who o'er proud ocean reigns, From Freedom's favour'd land. 1 64 OCCASIONAL PIECES. The red-cross and the tricolor Float proudly o'er that bay, Nor cloud appears in yonder sky To mar the festal day. VI. Now, o'er the calm blue waters With slow and stately grace The good tall ships of England Their homeward track retrace. Victoria waves adieu as sinks Her fleet from Gallia's sight, While Cherbourg sends the greeting back With all its brazen might. Her Consort, too, and Commoners, Britannia's Knights and Peers, Bend on fair France their farewell glance, Amidst the seamen's cheers. And well-betide thee, gallant land ! As thus our navies part. OCCASIONAL PIECES. J 65 May kindred ties be closer drawn Between each nation's heart. Soon may the tide of glorious light, And truth that maketh free, Shed purest radiance o'er thy soil, Ennobling thine and thee ! -HM- PARIS IN 1870. Trfr^^THAT means the sable pall, thus darkly drawn ^S'^ O'^J" ^11 thy brightness, city of the fete ? Thy children, joyous late, now seek the dawn. As only midnight watchers seek and wait. Where now those myriad lamps, whose dazzling light Outshone the sun, at brightest noon-day glow ? Where all thy meteors, soaring to the sight Of gazing multitudes, entranced below ? Deep silence rests on thy Elysian plains, Still solitude broods on thy field of Mars. ^66 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Hush'd are the sounds of trafific — fled thy gains, Forgotten all thy pomp of mimic wars. Ceased is the viol, ceased the tabret's sound, The merry mazes of the dance are still ; Where late the brimming wine cup circled round, Tears falling fast, each eye dejected fill. Is it the sigh of autumn-wind afar, That o'er the darkened sky thus moaning comes % Or does the ear thus catch the distant war, The dying groan, the roll of muffled drums % Hearken that shriek ! It is a mother's cry, Piercing the midnight air, for offspring slain : Hearken that low-breath'd plaint, that stifled sigh, It is the widow's wail, desponding, vain. Lift up thine eyes, thou stricken city, see ! See overhead those characters of fire ; Read there the burning message sent to thee, Read it, like mourner, clad in dark attire. Nor let the lore vouchsafed be sent in vain, As erst to Babylon's exulting king : OCCASIONAL PIECES. 167 Bow to the dust, proud city, nor disdain The hand upraised — its vengeful bolts to fling. One rules above. Jehovah is His name. The dust around His chariot-wheels that rolls Is dark with judgments. His devouring flame Consumes proud monarchies, as parchment scrolls. Provoke Him not. He will be God alone. His praise and worship should thy temples fill. No earth-born idol may usurp His throne, No earthly counsel may dispute His will. His law shall be all nation's law, their guide ; His word, His day, His service be supreme : Woe worth the land that owns a God beside, And thus dare dream its wild, delusive dream. Then lay thee in the dust, proud Gaul, and prove That thou art truly great by bending low ; So may these clouds of wrath descend in love, And morning gladness gild thy night of woe. l68 OCCASIONAL PIECES. ROME IN 1870. ?'\ir^\VAS silence in Saint Peter's, whose proud ^ height, Cloud-veil'd and dim, seemed vanishing from sight ; Curtain'd with mist the giant-structure lay But half revealed on that eventful day. Now on its crowning cross, in gold array'd, A struggling beam, with languid radiance, played, Then sank amidst the massive clouds which there Hovered, like gazing giants, in mid air. Within was silence, save, while surged the crowd. Echoed along the aisles a murmur loud — " He comes /" then low, in meek prostration, all Before the high-borne Pontiff downward fall. Within a spacious chamber, hid from view Where none may enter save the bidden few, Who from all lands, o'er every sea had come, The pall'd and mitred prelates of proud Rome, In reverend guise his Sovereign will await, Who sits enthron'd in more than regal state. OCCASIONAL PIECES. 1 69 The solemn mass is sung ; the incense cloud Rises, those awful mysteries to shroud. Backward its fragrance rolls ; then rises slow A strain, from voices sweetly blent below. Louder and louder swells the choral sound, 'Till, echoed by the gilded vaults around, It fills the vast expanse ; then dies away As sunlight dies, at golden close of day. 'Tis silence still, save that one thrilling call, Ear-piercing, shrill, sounds through the darksome hall What means it ? 'Tis the summons issuing Forth from the presence of the great Priest-King. The question has gone forth — " Is my decree " Infallible, from taint of error free 1 " Henceforth, through ages yet to come, for aye, " Shall men my utter'd words, as God's, obey T Through tedious months, and solemn high debate, In her conclave Rome's councillors have sate ; The hour of fix'd decision now is nigh, " Anathema" be he who dares deny. lyo OCCASIONAL PIECES. That voice again is heard, and, as each name Falls on the ear, response is still the same. " Placet','' still " Placet •" such the echo given To His high will, who rules, depute of heaven. One feeble voice is heard " Non-placef say — Another, — and the murmur dies away. Forth goes the word — *' Infallible is he — '' Vicegerent here on earth of Deity !" 'Tis done ! no more need heresy's alloy The truth becloud, the Church's peace destroy. Come all ! who fear or doubt, who seek release From error's anguish, here find rest and peace ! Beneath this awful dome one sits as God, Vanishes heresy before his nod. To teach, decree, to heal, to loose, to bind Omnipotent, for Rome, for all mankind ! Hearken ! What sound is that ! What sudden crash Rocks the high dome % The lurid lightnings flash. O'er every face around is paleness spread, OCCASIONAL PIECES. I?! While, meteor-like, bright sparkles dance o'erhead. Through the long aisles and vaulted corridors, The thunder's voice its awful echo pours ; Darkness within, save as, at each rebound. The herald lightning wildly leaps around. Far in the distance, dark and dimly seen. Pallid and faltering, yet with up-lift mien. The wearer of the triple crown appears, Unbroken still by weight of care and years. In his right hand the fatal scroll he holds. That more than mundane destiny enfolds ; By its decree to one, on earth, is given The attribute, erst wielded but in heaven. Henceforth, above all law is set that throne. One reigns beneath, as one on high, alone I The scroll is read. One glimmering taper sends Its light, where dimly light with darkness blends. 'Tis read ; and rises, like a mighty wind, A storm of plaudits, round, beneath, behind. 172 OCCASIONAL PIECES. The signal giv'n, without the cannon's throat Down to the city sends its loudest note. Clang the loud trumpets, roll the rattling drums, Along each crowded way the message comes, — "Viva le Papa Infallibile !" " Christ's Vicar, God on Earth and Lord is he !" Hark ! that response ! once more the thunder-cloud Dashes to earth its volume, long and loud : Again, throughout Saint Peter's vasty space The livid lightnings rush, in ghastly race. One other shout — another peal of hands, A rush without — then void its vastness stands. Back borne in state to his secluded home. In darkness hies the prelate prince of Rome. Ah ! who may tell the movements of that mind. When pomp and pride, and shouts are left behind ! What thinkest thou, priest-king, in solitude, Alone with God ? Dare we on thee intrude ? Enthroned o'er all earth kingdoms sole supreme 1 OCCASIONAL PIECES. 173 Is this reality ? Is it a dream ? And if a dream — say, is it false or true ? If false — thou dreamer, deeply shalt thou rue ; Yea, haply loathe thy dream, when all too late, Fled is that vision, fled thy tinsel'd state. Say, when thou standest, Pontiff, face to face Before the King of kings, the God of grace. Whose thunders, from thy feeble, faltering hand Thou durst essay to fling round every land — Shall kneeling crowds, as here, thy titles own. Or, scorning, leave thee desolate, alone ? The pageant o'er, once more Italia's sun Clothes in fresh light each thing he looks upon : They were but passing clouds his face which veiled, His smile is now with double gladness hailed. Bathed in the rain-flood, once again stands Rome, Still gleams afar her central, gilded dome. Yet many a thoughtful glance and downcast eye Read silent lessons, from each passer-by : — 174 OCCASIONAL PIECES. What meant that fearful tempest, sudden hurl'd, From heaven on thee, thou Mistress of the world % Why sped these lightning-flashes, fork'd and dread, Why burst these thunder-clouds, loud overhead 1 Why, at the moment God's Vicegerent rose To his due place, came signals such as those ? Who may such questions answer ? None. Yet hear, Thou ancient city. Rome, bow down thine ear. Thy day-dream past, — thy Pontiff seated there, Earth's sovereign lord, aloft in Peter's chair, — Undazzled face reality, and see What mightiness, in truth, remains to thee. Where are thy arms % thy warlike Pontiff's boasts, Thy court, thy cardinals, thy mail-clad hosts ; Thy prelates in all lands ; all nations bow'd Submissive to thy laws and mandates proud ? Thou sittest queen of all the earth ! say, where Are thy dominions ? View the empty air. See these cloud-castles, based on floating mist, — OCCASIONAL PIECES. 175 Such are thy realms, believe it as thou list. Awake, thou city of the past, awake ! Hear thou the truth, for truth's, for thine own sake ; Hear it, and hearing, hide thee from the scorn Too sure to whelm thee, at the coming morn. Lo ! in the east the glorious light appears Heaven's day whose dawn but gleamed through rolling years. Falsehood's foul dream, man's hate and tyranny, Before its rising orb shall fade and flee. Oh ! come fair day ! glad Sun of suns arise ! Gild with thy light our long, long darken'd skies ! Rise Italy ! Rise ancient, Christian Rome ! Shake off thy night-mare thraldom ! Rise and come, Fairest and first, as in the olden day. To meet the coming Christ, and own His sway ! 176 OCCASIONAL PIECES. LINES SUGGESTED BY A FESTIVAL OF PAROCHIAL CHOIRS. DAY of sunshine, era glad and golden ! When Christ's Evangel graced the " Isle of Saints !' ' Thrice happy nation, when, through ages olden, All sounds were gladsome — none heart-rending plaints : When from each saint-erected fane ascended The solemn psalm, glad chant, and hymn of praise ; When golden-collared king and chieftain bended Before each shrine, bright with devotion's rays. Ah ! day of cloud and darkness ! hour of sorrow ! When strife intestine and a foreign yoke Shrouded thy sun, lerne, and each morrow But darker seemed, beneath affliction's stroke. Prostrate thy temples, hushed thy strains of gladness, — Thy priests forgetful of their country's rites ; — OCCASIONAL PIECES. 177 Religion turned to moping or to madness — Thy Church's rulers — mimes or parasites ! O dawn of better day ! once more up-springing Fair Hope smiles o'er this erst benighted land ! Again, Jehovah's awful praises singing, Her priests and people in the temples stand. Again, from white-robed choir and organ pealing, Voices of loud thanksgiving heaven-ward soar ; While crowds, all lowly round our altars kneeling, Proclaim the reign of death and darkness o'er. N 1 78 OCCASIONAL PIECES. Sonnet. AD L Y R A M. ' ILENCE ! ye trembling strings ; and rest thee here, Companion lov'd of many a by-gone hour, Since life's young morn first owned thy mystic pow'r That silent grew, as year stole after year In limpid stream, while yet nor hope nor fear It's surface wave-like stirred. When, too, the cloud Of sorrow gathered, and when care's cold shroud This spirit wrapped, still was thy solace near. In whispers from the better land. See, how Comes Evening with her sunset-fading smile. And breathes of rest and peace. Then slumber thou. Still, if thine echoes, lingering long, the while. Assuage one pang, smooth one care-furrow'd brow, Not all in vain the task thus ended now. Marcus Ward b' Co., Printers, Belfast. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. irm L9-40m-7,'56(C790s4)444 ESITY OF GALIFORNSA UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILlPi' AA 000 370 453 PR U970 M55h *•.