T T> O 1^1 = -OT-II SO O ^ Zj\ is % '■=^omm^ AWEUNIVEW/A. AWEUNIVER57A e, — ^ >- ^i7l30NVSO# ^OF-CAllFOff^- >&AHV}iaiiiv to ^WEUNIVERS-//^ HOURS OF SUN AND SHADE. WITH TEANSLATIONS EEOM VAEIOUS EUEOPEAN LANGUAGES. BY PERCY VERNON GORDON DE MONTGOMERY. • psc Author oi? "The Immortal," a Poem, "The Old Hall," &c. " Prom my heart the unbidden rhyme Gnsh'd forth."— GoETiiE. LONDON : gsoombridge and sons, pateenoster-eow. EDINBURGH : JAMES HOQO, ST. ANDREW SQUARE. 1856. A TO THOSE WHO ABE ENGAGED, PTTBLICIY OE PEIVATEIT, IN PEOMOTING THE PEESENT AND ETEENAL WELFAEE OP THEIE PElLOW-CEEATTJEfiS; WHOSE TIME AND TALENTS AEE DEVOTED TO THE ADVANCEMENT AND HAPPINESS OF MANKIND ; TO THOSE WHOSE LIVES EXEMPLIFY THE DIVINE PEEOEPT, "love one ANOTHEB;" THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCEIBED BY THE ATTTHOE. o-f r^ooo lotes. Page 1, line 19. Qive me the poioer thou c/aii'st to him of old. Milton is here referred to. Page 4, line 3, The holy ground. And they heard the voice of the Lord God walking in the garden. —Gen. 3c.8v. Page 21, line 34. She streios infinity with grandeur. " God is a worker, He has thickly strewn luiinity with grandeur.'' — Alexander Smith. Page 28, line 37. And though proud manhood's dawn has come. The Old Hall to which I allude was falling to decay in my childhood, which will account for its becoming a mass of ruins in so short a time. Page 35, lines 5 and 6. I hear Life's measured footsteps Resound through the halls of Time. " Not from the bards subUme, Whose distant footsteps echo Tlirough the corridors of Time." — Longfellow. Pa^e 52, lines 25 and 26. O'er the waJceless Past lament not. Seize the Present, it is thine. " Look not mournfully into the Past. It comes not back again. Wisely improve the Present. It is thine." — Ibid. Page 83. The Geandmother. See the beautiful prose-poem bearing the same title, by Hans Chris- tian Andersen, the poet of Deimiark. It is admirably translated into English by Kenneth R. H. Mackenzie. Page 105. Atjdi Alteram Partem. The original of this piece, and the foUovriug Epigram I found, without any author's name attached, in a school collection of epigrams. Though doubtless familiar to scholars, they may prove new to the general reader especially in the j^resent version, which I have endeavoured to render as literal as the difference in the idioms of the languages would permit. Page 107. Fancy. I rcret my inability to give the author of this beautiful poem, which I foundniabook entitled "Deutsches Lesebuch," edited by Dr. G. L. Kriegk, and pubUshed at Franklbrt-ou-Maine, 1834. Page 108. The Floweret. This piece is now transcribed from memory, as wcU as " Tlie Wave," both having been translated some years since, from Dr. Arnold's Ger- man Reading-Boak, at the commencement of my German studies. The author of " The Floweret" I cannot now remember, though I have an impression it must be Goethe. Page 110, line 27. And we others. This is the literal rendering of the German, " Und wir Andern aUe bitten," the connection of which with the preceding, certainly seems rather obscure. Page 111. The Soul of Love. I have omitted a stanza of this poem, which I could not have rendered into EngUsh, as I conceive, without detracting from the beauty of the piece. PREFACE. Dear Eeadee, I EEEii great diffideucc and many fears in placing this Volume in thy hands ; for no one can be more aware of its many imperfections than myself : but I trust that, whatever its faidts may be, thou mayest still find something worthy of tliy perusal — something that wiU find its way to thy heart, and strike a responsive chord. If, when thy spu-it is bowed with grief, and thy counte- nance shaded with sorrow — if, at those sacred moments, any- tliing that I have written will shed but one ray of sunshine within thy clouded heart, then will I hope to be forgiven for aught that needs forgiveness. My earnest desire is to consecrate whatever talents my Creator has endow^ me with, to the advancement of His glory, and the welfare of mankind. Although the accom- plishment may be feeble, the purpose is strong. What I liave written has been written sincerely ; the thoughts to which my pen has given expression have sprung spontaneously from the depths of my soul. Although young in years, I am old in the school of suf- fering : many of the ibllowing pages were written when mind and body seemed as if they were about to be parted for ever : deal leniently with them — nip not these fragile buds ; smile upon them, so that the tree from whence tliey sprung may be laden with blossom, and produce fruit worthy of thy acceptance. Some of the pieces contained in this Volume were com- posed at the ago of sixteen. " The Eternal" was written six years ago, in my cigliteenth year, and originally published under the title of "The Immoetal." Fain would I have retained tliis book, and assiduously applied myself to its iinprovemeni ; but as T had trespassed so long upon tlie patience of the Subscribers, I was compelled to publish it witli all its crudities. My next Volume, will, I trust, prove worthier of perusal. This Volume was advertised, and several of its pieces were published, under a nom de plume. It was also to have borne the title of " Music, Poetry, Paintings, and Flowers ;" a title I have since considered less appropriate than the one given. The Translations would have been better selected, and more diffuse, had I a larger library at my command. I am as yet but tuning my harp : the quivering chords are but vibrating with a feeble prelude ; yet I hope hereafter to boldly sweep my lyre, till its tones swell into noble, lofty strains. Farewell for awhile, dear Reader, and that the Almighty may bless thee and thine, is the heartfelt wish of THE AUTHOE. 4, Cha/pel Terrace, Notting Hill, Kensington, September, 1856. To my Subscribers I offer my best thanks for the kind interest they have manifested on my behalf; and deeply re- gret that indisposition and other causes, have so long deferred the pubUcation of this Volume. ERRATA. Page 2 line 24, for th', read the. Page 4 line 11, for God .' the, read Great God .' Page 4 line 20, for a chaos mass through space, read chaotic through dark space. Page 4 line 21, for ascending through the air, read I part the silent air. Page 5 line 34, for thrills, rend/ills. Page 8 line 7, for its, read a. Page 8 line 16, for The rill, the stream, read The stream follow. Page 16 Mne 38, for out of, lead/rom. Page 18 line' 49, for angush, read anguish. Page 19 line 15, for old Winter, read Winter. Page 20 line 44, for pendatzts, read pendents. Page 43 line 23, for has, read hath. Page 79 line 33, for wy, read thou. Page 79 line 34, for e'ei; read that. Page 100 line 31, for its Maker, read the Saviour. Page 103 line 16, for narrow, read short, sweet. (f^ontents. « PAGE. 30 30 33 34 TheEtbenal, ... ... ••• ••• ••• J, Thoughts on the Beautiful, ... •■• ••• ••• ^" TheOldHaU, ... ... - •• ••• ^l Flowers, Every Heart knoweth its own Sorrow, A Life-Khyme, ... ••• ■■• ••• „ The Bunch of Violets, ... ... ••• ••• ^ A Spring-time Sonnet,... ... •■• ••• ••• ^ ^ Oh Come to me* Love, A Portrait, ... The B'eautiful Banks of the Winding Wye, ... ... ... 36 A Summer Evening, ... ■.. ■•• ••• ,, The Gem, ... ... ... - - — i'„ ThePeath of Isabel, ... - - ••• % Christmaa-Day, 1855, ... ... ••• ••• ••• *f Weep Not, ... ... ..• ■•■ - *5 It is the Hour, ... ... •■■ ■• ••■ * The Ocean and the Shore, ... ... ••• •■■ *^ The Memory of the Brave, ... •■• ••• ••• *2 Spring,... ... ... •■■ ■■• - |5 Fame, ... ..»■ •■ ■•• ••• •■• *' Lines with a Wreath of Wild Flowers, ... ... f? By a Hose-wreathed Harp, ... ... ••• '" 5n The Beautiful Isle in the Crystalline Lake, ... ... ^ The Song of the Stream of Life, ... ... ... •.• ^ Beautiful Hoses,... ... •.• .• •■• °^ ^Q _ ,,_ ... ,,, ... ... 54r Lady, I think' of Thee,'" ... ... ••• ■•• f^ Grief, ^6 The Vase, ... ... ••. - ••• ^i The Sabbath in the Country, ... ... ■■. — o° Gospel-Song, ... ... ... ••• - ^ The Rose-bud, ... ... ••■ , ••• , „■■• ^l Sonnet,— «' Pale, ghostly moonbeams gleam through ruby glass, bB Flowers, Fair Flowers, ... ... •.• "■ ci Silence, ... ... ... - - ^o A Happy New Year, ... To , Invocation to Spring, .. . Death,... ... ... • ••• ■•• '^ Trust in God, ... ... •■■ ••• ••• '; The Roses of Summer, ... ... ... ••• '„^ A Thunder-storm, ... ... ... .•• ••• ^^ A Bummer Night, ... ... ... ••• ^* Death in the Desert, ... ... ... •.• ••• ^^ A Bridal Wreath, ... ... . ••• ^* To a Laurel-Leaf, ... ... ... ••• •■• J? The River of Death, ... ... - ••• Jf Life 75 Sonnet to a Bee in December, ... ... ••• '° ehristmaa-Eve, ... ... ... •■ ••• ^^ Sonnet, A Midsummer-Eve, ... ■•• ••• ^ To ,... 70 70 71 77 Till. The Stream, 78 The Grave of my Love, ... 78 A Summer Sabbath Al'ternoon, 79 Lines with a Bouquet... ... 79 To— , ... 80 Happiness, ... ...* 80 Solitary Musings, . . . 81 Home, ... 82 Roses, 83 The Grandmother, ... 83 Sunset, Twilight, Night 85 The Crucifixion, ... 100 Fear Not, 101 To Lady , ... 102 A Thanksgiving and a Prayer, 102 The Roses, ... TRANSLATIONS. Feom the Geeek. ... 104 Audi Alteram Partem,. ... 105 Epigram, . . ■ 106 The Golden Mean, The Love of God, Feom the Latin. Feom the PEOVEirgAi.. Feom the Geeman. Fancy, The Floweret, The Wanderer's Night-Song, A New- Year's Lay, The Wave, The Soul of Love, My Friendly Host, Farewell, Thoughts, To-Night, .. To Sweden, The Lyre, The Boy and the Butterfly, Beauty, Feom the Swedish. Feom the Danish. Feom the Itahan. Feom the Spanish. Pbom the Poetugitese. From the French. Peok thb Welsh. The Tree of Hope, The Bird's Neat,... Invocation to Sleep, Mortis Ratio, A Thunder-Storm, The Temple of Death, The Captive's Song, . . ADDENDA. Extracts from a Lecture on the Rise and Progress of Literature and Science in England, Thoughts and Fragments, ... Notices and Literary Opinions, ... 106 107 107 108 109 110 110 111 112 112 113 113 114 114 115 116 117 117 118 118 119 120 121 122 124 131 THE ETERNAL. " Prom everlasting to everlasting Thou art God." — Psabn xc. 2. Oh Thou, th' Eternal, the Omnipotent, The Omnipresent, Grod, Jehovah, Lord, In Whom all glorious attributes are blent. The " King of kings," the Holy, the Adored ! Oh Thou, the Great " I Am," the Infinite, Creator of air, ocean, sky, and earth, Of worlds invisible to mortal sight. But seen by Thee, who caU'd them into birth ! Of Thee I sing,^ to Tliee I raise my song ; Let my adorhig strains flow rev'rently along. Oh Thou, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, The Three divided, yet the Three in One, Whose viewless throne glows 'mid th' angelic host. Who wert ere time its mystic reign begun. Who art whUst time endures, and still wilt be When time shall be no more, ever the same ; Author of time and of eternity. Oh let me humbly breathe Thy sacred Name ! Give me the power Thou gav'st to him of old, W^bo in undying verse Thy glories did unfold. Speak to my shadow'd heart, illume mine eyes, Fill me witli holy tlioughts, my lips inspire ; Oh tlirill my ears with heavenly melodies. With quenchless glory set my soul on fire. I deeply feel my utter helplessness : Oh I am weak, but Thou can'st make me strong : Grant Tliou my ])rayer, my feeble elibrts bless, And as I trembling tune my solemn song ; Let me not seek my own but Thy blest praise, For I am Thine, and Thine these tributary lays. 2 Oh for a mind imbued with lieavenly Hght, To sound Thy glories in immortal strain ! Oh for a ghmpse of that ecstatic sight, My yearning soul is longing to attain ! Oh for one ray of splendour from above, To chase the clouds away that shade my thought ; To tell of Thy unfathomable love In seraph-tones with mighty meaning fraught ; Of the o'erpowering, never-waning rays Wliich stream from Thee, and dazzle e'en th' arch- angel's gaze ! Oh for celestial wings to soar away, Up through the voiceless void of starry space. On spirit-pinions rise to endless day. Higher and higher mount, until my face Eeflected lustre flowing from the throne. And my rapt soul drank in the melody, Pour'd forth by seraphs' Ups, whose every tone Is born of purest love eternally ! Oh could I gaze on those unnumber'd throngs. And bear my lowly part in their adoring songs ! Myriads of angels chant incessant praise. With Thy irradiating glory crown'd, And myriads more will swell their joyous lays When th' archangel's wak'ning trump shall sound ; When time shall cease, and bursting from their tombs, The blest shall soar on glitt'ring wings above, Ascend from silent and cimmerian glooms To a resplendent home of perfect love, — A home too pure for souls unpurified, A home for God-hke minds, by God's Ught glorified. Angelic beauty, spirit loveliness, Outlustres all that we can ever teU, Whose best conceptions sink to nothingness Contrasted witli tlie inconceivable. The painter's pencil, and the poet's pen. The tongue wifli language eloquently fraught, The sculptor's life-like art, oh where, oh when Have these e'er drawn, e'er written, spoke, or wi-ougbt A painting, poem, tliought, or form so bright As e'en the least of t lie seraphic sons of light. Oh for tlie power to paint the lieav'nly view Glowing beyond the star-besprinkled sea, So deeply, calmly, beautifully blue, Where Cynthia sails in queenly majesty ! Its scenes are sweeter than the smiles of May, Surpassing high ambition's loftiest dreams, More dazzling than the fire-illumined way Where vivid lightnings flash in flaming streams ; Sublimer than the night with beauty crown'd, Brighter than brightest moi'n dispersing glooms profound. Eye never hath beheld so fair a land. Either in real or ideal sight, As that vast realm where white-robed seraphs stand Wing-veil'd before the throne so jiurely white ; Whence God-blest beams magnificently sail. In floods of lustre infinitely bright. Whose splendours pierce the cloud-unsullied veil. And gem the vaiilt with orbs of radiant light ; And there th^ shine in beautiful array. Like hopes within the heart so soon to fade away. Ear hath not heard of half its happiness ; The fire-speech'd tongue would be quite impotent To give a faint description of the bhss The immortal spu-it feels, w-hilst lowly bent Before th' almighty, everlasting King, Bathed in translucent light, and pouring praise ; While the eternal arch is echoing With hallelujahs, with the lofty lays Of blessed and innumerable throngs, That strike their golden harps, and sing their glorious songs. Fancy hath never unto Thought rcveal'd, In noblest flights, a region so sublime As that by the dark vale of Death conceal'd, The loveliest, happiiist, and holiest clime, Where God, the Highest, dwells for evermore, The Sovereign, Friend, and Life of that l)right host, A King whose boundless reign shall ne'er be o'er, The Mighty Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, The Three in One, and yet the One in Three, The Mystery of God, Divme Triunity. Eden, that heav'n on earth, where fadeless flowers, Of sweetest fragrance aud of varied hue, Spangled the holy ground and vernal bowers, Where Peace and Happiness together grew, Where glorious Beauty reign'd, — that cloudless sc«ne Was fairer far than fancy can devise. Brighter than poet's pen can paint ; but e'en Its amaranthine groves, its azure skies, Bore no comparison to heaven above. That home of ceaseless bUss and everlasting love. God ! the unclouded Sun of that pure land, Illuminating with Thy presence there The beautiful, the bright, the blissful band, For ever youthful and for ever fair. Whose love-tuned voices blend in one sweet song Of " glory to the Lamb,"— to Thee, to Thee Flow those resounding strains of praise along, Have flow'd since Thy creative energy Call'd into being the first grateful world, Flow'd when this earth a chaos mass through space was hurl'd. On Fancy's wings ascending through the air, I heav'n-ward take my far ideal flight, Soaring in rapture from a world of care To a fair home with love and glory bright : I gaze upon the fading earth below — How beautiful each less'ning part appears : Its mountains crown'd with everlasting snow. Majestic trees strong with their many years ; Its trackless wilds, dark woods, and rivers deep ; Its homes, whose habitants are wrapt in midnight sleep ; — The boundless sea, whose ever-restless breast Heaves with earth's varied wealth, and bears it o'er Its moon-LIlumined waves, with beauty blest. That gently flow to kiss the sleeping shore. Amazed, enraptured at the thrilling sight, I soar away from stiU decreasing earth. With swifter speed to the grand starry height. Thinking of Him who call'd these scenes to birth, Stupendous Mind, whose power can ne'er be told, That could create all this I tremblingly behold ! All this, and more : for as I higher rise, I pass new worlds of mightier maguitude ; And as I strain my wonder-stricken eyes To where, a few short moments since, I view'd The earth a globe, lo ! now a twinkling star It hangs suspended in the realms of space ; And all around, above, beneath, afar. With dazzled sight imperfectly I trace •Worlds rolling restles? round and rushing past, Than sunlit pearls more bright, than space-drown'd earth more vast. Still, still I rise, with countless worlds around, Productions of the Great Eternal Mind ; And as I higher mount, more globes abound. While those vast orbs now gleamuig far behind, Are dwindling into starry gems of light : Now they are gone, quite imperceptible. But what is yonder scene, supremely bright ? Oh 'tis the home of the Adorable ! It widens, briglitens, as I higher rise ; Faintly I hear the murmur of its melodies. Soar, wings of fancy, faster soar away ; Oh bear me up to yonder land sublime '. Mount with still swifter speed, nor tire, nor stay. Till ye have pass'd through all the realms of time To the light-mantled mansions far above, Whore God the Father, Son, and Spirit lives. Breathing o'er all His creatures peace and love. And with His glorious presence ever gives Such blessedness to those that round Him dwell. Too deep for thought to grasp, too pure for tongue to tell. I see a light, like to a star, descending ; A ray it parted from the lustrous blaze : Swiftly to me its brilliant course 'tis wending ; Oh how it dazzles, while it tlirills my gaze! Mine eyes are overpowcr'd witli bhnding Ught ; The floods of splendour streaming all around, Nearer, still nearer to my fading sight. An angel cometh. — Hark ! oh, sweetest sound ! It is the waving of those holy wings That greet my list'ning ears with heav'nly whisperings. Unwonted bliss ! I feel his piercing glance : Revivifying light illumes my soul ; I am enveloped in a heav'nly trance ; The clouds of darkness from my vision roll, And I can look undazzled on the face — The angel-face, suffused with lucent light. Beamingly bright with every glorious grace, Pilling my heaving heart with rich delight, — A foretaste of those endless joys above, — A drop of purest bUss from the clear Fount of love. " Spirit of light, hst to a mortal's cries ! Upbear me to the world of deathless day ; Unveil to me the splendours of the skies ; Let me drink in the heav'n-resounding lay That to th' Eternal floats from hosts like thee : For one short hour, oh waft me to thy home ! That land above this vast immensity : Guide thou the way ; my vision longs to roam O'er that gi'and scene — to gaze on shining throngs That fill the golden street with everlasting songs." In soft melodious tones, with beaming look. The angel answers : " By the Lord's command, Erewhile His glorious Presence I forsook. To bear thee through this Gk)d-ht pathless land." He grasps my trembling form, and swiftly flies. Like rapid lightning-flash athwart the sky. The starry orbs dart by my dazzled eyes. In endless numbers, keenest brilhancy ! Beneath is space, studded with gems of hght ; Above a peerless reahn, with heav'nly glories bright. I see the throne where the Eternal reigns. The city where the great Redeemer hves ; I hear the murmur of the blissful strains That burst from those to whom all joy He gives : Th' illuminating splendour is descending, And steeps us in transcendant streams of light. As with undrooping wings my guide is wending Fast to the pearly gates his homeward flight. The portal's past — oh, glorious, glorious day ! Here thought itself seems lost, and dazzled dies away. Far as my sight can range angelic throngs, With crowns of glory on each radiant brow, Strike golden harps, and pour melodious songs, Tuned ever in Jehovah's praise as now. ■" Glory and honour to the Lamb," they sing, "And praise and power to Him upon the tlu-one : " While myriads more the words are echoing ; And as they pass the Kuig that reigns alone, In adoration bends each spu-it low, While lucid floods of living lustre o'er them flow. Around, above, beneath, upon the King All glories are sublimely merged in One, — The Fount whence suns innumerable spring, The brightest, purest, never- setting Sun. Oh, what vast multitudes bend lowly there, Veiling their stricken eyes with meeting wings ; Their hymns of glory fill the holy air, That wanders on in joyous journeyings, Bearing the angels' melodies along. To distant wliite-robed groups, who sing the same sweet song. Vainly I strive to pierce the sacred veil Enveloping th' Eternal Source of Light ; Dazzhng refulgencies before me sail. Withholding God from my sin-clouded sight. Borne down by streams of sparkling brilliancy, Heav'n fades away from my entranced view, I sink in the illimitable sea Of star-gem'd space, and far amid the blue I trace once more the glimm'ring form of earth, — Ah now how insignificant, how small its worth ! Oh, how can human mind its language raise To tell the glory of the Deity ? Sublimest eloquence, in loftiest lays, Hymn'd by tlie universe, my God, to Thee, Fails to describe how vastly Thou art wise ! Oh, insufficient is their ceaseless praise, Inadequate the blending themes that rise From heav'n and earth, the multifarious lays From mortal and immortal ranks, to tell The boundlesB goodness of the Grand Invisible ! 8 Oh ! beautiful is all that Thou hast made, Angels and men, heav'n, ocean, earth, and sky, Morning and night, the sunshine and the shade, Whose varied beauties with each other vie ; The flower-wreath'd Spring, with her bright beauties blushing ; The golden Summer with its sky of blue, Eefresh'd with zephyrs, and cool fountains gushing ; The sombre Autumn weeping an adieu ; The snowy Winter, with his icy chains. Robing in spotless garments, valleys, hills, and plains. Wave, wave, ye trees, in whisp'ring melody, To Him who made ye in such beauty rise ; Sound, sound your praises over wood and lea. To the All-seeing God, the Great All- Wise, Who caused the flowers to gem the teeming earth. The rill, the stream, the mighty deep to roll ; Who call'd all beings, great and small, to birth ; From burning Indus to the frozen pole. Teach every heart to recognize the Lord, That in all lands His Name may ever be adored. Flow, flow, ye streams, and as ye glide along, Murmur your softest sweetest lays to Him, Utter your melodies in rapt'rous song, — Pour a subhme, an everlasting hymn, Unto the Great Benificent, the King Of time, of death, and of eternity ; And thou, resounding ocean, grandly sing To Him who was, who is, and is to be : Voices of many waters, be ye blent In praises to the Lord our God Omnipotent. Awake, ye warblers, in your moon-lit bowers, Unite in one rich grateful concert now ; From your sweet homes among the fragrant flowers Let those thanksgiving carols ever flow To Him who form'd ye with harmonious strains, That fill the universe with joyous praise ; Pour forth your melody, tiU it attains Yon glorious home, and mmgles with the lays That love-fill'd seraphs sing, with gloi-y bright. Whose guileless hearts o'erflow with constant calm delight. 9 And lovely flowers, oh beautiful fair flowers ! Mute monitors, preachers of peace and love, — Smiling in gardens, woodlands, fields and bowers, — Earth's brightest gems, types of a home above, — Oh, sweetly mingle all your rich perfume ; In one vast cloud of incense let it float To where unfailing flow'rets brightly bloom, And where the blest adoringly devote Theu- being, attributes, their all, to Him Before whose glorious Face e'en heav'n's own light grows dim. Awake, ye wandering winds, your whisperings; And rousing Nature fi-om her death-like trance, Wave over water, woods, and wilds your wings, Rusthng the leaves as onward ye advance ; In soft tones murmur your wide-spreading lay. And waft the music of trees, birds, and streams, — Oh bear it with the flowers' perfumes away To where Jehovah's sacred glory beams ; There lowly laythera down before the tlirone, And thus with prayer and praise His holy Presence own: — *' Accept the gift, O God for ever blest, Which of Thine own we offer unto Thee, To whom. Almighty Father, is address'd The worship of all things incessantly. Small is the olfering we Immbly bi'ing, For all that Thou hast wrought upon tlie earth ; But Thou, from wliom all life at first did spruig, Who call'd us all into a happy birtli. Oh, may we feel Thy ever-guiding hand In all Thy works, made and upheld by Thy command." Methinks I hear the prayer the breezes sigh, Pouring their gifts at tlie Creator's feet ; Methinks I liear the eclioing melody From spotless seraplis, that sublimely greet With holy music, bliss in every tone. The praise and incense floating tln'ough tlic air. They humbly bow before the great white thron?. List to the hallow'd lays that mingle there, And waft them on their wings tliroughlieav'n'sblestbowers. To mingle with their songs and amarHnthine flowers. THOUGHTS ON THE BEAUTIFUL. " A thing of beauty is a joy for ever." KEATS. The beautiful is developed in every work of the Almightj ; it beams from all which His iufinite mind lias created and is still creating. He, the Eternal God, is its inexhaustible Source — its overflowing Fount ; and deriving it from Him, heaven, earth, ocean and air are filled with, and incessantly pour forth, the beautifvd. We hear it in innumerable melo- dies, and the thrilled lieart is enraptured with the sweet music of its beloved voice; — we gaze upon it in its myriad hues and shapes, and ai'e lost in silent admiration at its constant and un- fading charms ; — we feel its all-pervading influence continually penetrating our inmost souls, and illuminating all within and without, creating a blossoming garden amid the desert of life, — delighting the senses with its glorious colours and sweet fragrances, until this world becomes a Paradise below. There is not a spot on earth but beams with its imperishable impres- sion ; there is not a drop of the ocean but sparkles with its transcendent light; the air is filled with its resplendent hues; and the deep blue sky, that boundless canopy — -now appearing so calmly clear, its vast expanse unbroken by a solitary cloud ; now streaked with fleecy cloudlets flushed with the rosy tints of the rising or the setting sun, and now richly jewelled with innu- merable stars, and chastely illumined with the silvery beams of the vestal moon, throughout the day and throughout the night presents the grandest pictures of the beautiful. Above, beneath, around, its ever smiling face is unceasingly seen, and all the productions of the Omnipotent, in aU their varied as- pects, are ever robed with the illimitable mantle of beauty. The world-arousing beams of the morning — the trance-like stillness of the noon — the harmonious colours of the sunset, which the Creator only could mingle — the thoughtful, memory- awakening twilight — the magnificence of the star-crowned night — the solemn grandeur of the warring elements, when dazzhng lightnings flash and reverberating thunders peal — the prismatic hues of the prophetic rainbow, that token of 11 everlasting covenant between God and man — the multitudi- nous sights and sounds of ever-changing nature — the smiling Spring, scattering her bright garlands of flowers over the melodious earth — the radiant Summer, enriching it with glowing fruits — the sombre Autumn, painting it in russet tints — the snowy Winter, arraying it in robes of spotless whiteness ;— each of these imveils a glorious picture of the beautiful, all its own. Earth, with her myriad voices, is inces- santly pouring the sublimest music to the Creator, and heaven exult iugly resounds with seraphs' holy songs ; and ever mingling in the melodies of heaven and earth, the beautiful retvu-ns to its Author, to receive fresh lustre and make all which it visits more lovely still. Who can gaze upon the beautiful, and not be captivated with the varied yet ever-pleasing aspects it assumes ? Who can listen to its innumerable yet sweetly har- monizing voices, and not feel the thrill of ecstasy ? Who can inhale the beautiful, and not feel steeped in glowing bhss ? It comforts the weary soul ; it lightens the burthened heart ; it encircles life in a celestial halo — an amarathine fadeless garland ; it descended ft-om above, and it is incessantly rising upward,and still-upward, to the throne of the Almighty, wafting upon its rainbow wings the thanksgivings of the sweet spots it has visited. — Where fair flowers are brightly blooming and gently ti-embling at the soft sighs ofthe wooing zephyr; — ■ in Flora's bowers, in shady groves and solemn woods, ringing with the melodies of tlie song-birds ; — where the rill ripples slowly along o'er its pebbly bed, now ghding unseen yet not in silence 'neath o'er-arching branches, then gushing again into the golden sunlight, while mirror-like it reflects the honey- laden flowers that blossom upon its banks, and the perfumed gems inchne their beautiful heads, and kiss the pellucid water for portraying such pictures of loveliness ; — where tlie lily- fringed stream murmurs its liquid song as it meanders tlirough the flower-strewn meads — its verdant pathway to the mighty ocean, where it loses itself in tlie boundless expanse, rich with the wealth of every country beneath the sun ; — to these, and other innumerable spots, the beautiful hath been : and as a pure fountain scatters its glittering spray, so hath it dropjjcd sweetness and joy wherever it has touched in its angcl-ilii,'lit. How universal is the reign of the beautiful ! It is not alone o'er the lovely isle of England that it wields its heart- swaying sceptre ; it is not alone in this happy land that it dwells : there is no spot in the wide w^orld where it is not found; it crowns the summits of tlic Alpine heights, and it lies beneath the warm Italian sky ; it is seen on tlie icc-botind shores of Greenland, as well as in the luxuriant scenery of tlio 12 torrid zone ; it exists amid the impenetrable forests of undis- covered regions— in the mine where the diamond shines, and in the deep unfiithomed ocean-caves, beneath the petrel's stormy home. But the mind can penetrate farther than this terrestrial sphere, and see fields of beauty in regions far away. It can pierce through the clouds and shadows that envelope our world, and behold the beauty and magnificence of the planetary universe, and contemplate the vast assemblage of worlds that revolve in order and beauty so far beyond us. There the mind is lost in admiration, and fancy can but faintly picture the wonderful aspects the beautiful assumes in woi'lds more glorious than ours, inhabited by an order of beings superior to humanity, and with capacities fitted to their exalted state. Study the productions of the mightiest master-minds, and you will find beauty developed there. In the rich melodies of the poet, in the glowing pages of the historian and the essayist, in the life-like painting of the artist, or the statue of the sculptor — an embodied inspiration, — the beautiful is grandly presented to the view. It rivets the awe-inspired gaze, while the impassioned soul pours forth its deepest hom- age. But not alone in the poet's verse, not alone in the his- torian's or the essayist's pages, and not alone in the artist's painting, or the sculptor's statue, is the beautiful to be found ; — science is illuminated with its lustre, and the philosopher and astronomer, with various others, find perhaps as much beauty in their different pursuits as the poet when his thoughts are triumphantly soaring away upon the droopless wings of imagination among scenes too beautiful for human language to portray. The astronomer, wliile endeavouring to pierce the mysteries of starry space — as his eager thought attempts to grasp the vast expanse peopled with worlds whose glory and immensity dazzle his awe-stricken gaze — think you not that he, in his noble pursuit, finds the most exquisite pleasure ? As the admirable system of the universe is progressively de- veloped to his astonished thought, he beholds the unerasable impress of the beautiful stamped in vivid characters upon those glorious globes suspended in the realms of infinity, and his soul-absorbing science becomes still dearer to him as he beholds it irradiated with the magnificence of beauty. Beauty exists everywhere : the Creator's works are fashion- ed in its mould, and bear the impress of Omnipotence. " In wisdom hast Tliou made them all ; the earth is full of Thy riches." There is beauty, ay, surpassing beauty, in all the scenes around us — the works of nature and the works of art j and if with such deliglitful objects the bountiful Author has 13 embellished this transitory world, scattering along His people's path flowers of beauty and tokens of joy, to shed the light of happiness and hope upon their toilsome way, what tongue can tell the glories of that everlasting land — what mind por- tray a Ukeness of tlie beauty that shall be revealed beyond the portals of mortality ? Though tliere is much of the beautiful around us in our present state, it but faintly foreshadows to our beniglited view the hidden beauties of the heavenly home. There is perfection, which is not here ; hence the immeasur- able distance between its scenes of beauty and its sounds of joy, and those which make us happy here. Beauty developes the power and dignity of man, thrilling his soul with its penetrating glances, it calls his attributes into fullest force ; it awakens ambition from its slumber — fires it into action — implants it where it is not. The soul shakes ofi' its lethargy, glows with enthusiasm, and stands apparelled in the majesty of might, witli the will to dare and to do things great and good to win the rewarding smiles of beauty. Its power is far less limited and more endurable than earth's mightiest conqueror, Death, for it extends beyond the grave, it blooms in heaven. Jts influence is unbounded, its glories ever bright, its work ever doing yet never done ; in all Nature it is ever active, for it is Nature's imperishable soul. By its attractive influence it has led the victor on to win greater victories ; by its all-conquering power kings have been com- pelled to bow to its superior majesty. How many of the greatest minds have been induced to achieve their noblest works by the encouraging smiles of beauty — monarchs, states- men, warriors, poets, painters, and ])hLlosophers ! In the court, < he senate, and tlie camp — in literature, science, and art — what has not been accomphslied under its bright and animating influence ! It fires the warrior's soul, and nerves his arm with strength ; it gives a glory to the poet's verse, and cheers his heart with hope ; it makes the painter's imperishable canvass almost glow with life. The smiles of beauty have filled the warrior with ambition ; they have led him on until he has grasped the reins of power, and glorious victory has crowned his mighty clforts; and then, when his grand aim was accomplished, for which he full many tim<;s had perilled his lift — then, when the dreams of his youth were realized, through which lie had passed many sleepless nights and days of the most acute anxiety — then, when you would have thought that all he wished for on earth was ac- comphshed, that he had reached the consummation of all his desires— oh! then, for the sake of beauty— for the sake of one far dearer to him than all that bewildering power, that 14, boundless wealth, that world-renowned fame — fur the sake of one irradiated with beauty has he resigned it all : for her sraihng glance was more precious to him than the magnifi- cence of a court ; her words of aifection were sweeter music to his ears than the praises of a nation ; and he felt a far purer pleasure by her side than when seated on his tlirone, with the crown of royalty upon his head, and arrayed in all the pomp and magnificence of a king. Poetry constitutes a glorious part of the beautiful. Who can pore over the pages of the poet, and not be conscious of a pecuhar delight ? Oh, who can peruse and really comprehend that musical language of the heart, and not be filled witli rap- ture? There is a truly magical power — there is an unfathomable depth of beauty in the fadeless garland of poesy: it seems the language of a brighter, happier world than ours ; and when issuing from the lips of a beloved one, it is the sweetest music that ear ever heard. Some say that poetry is dead. Dead! it cannot die ; it cries, " I am immortal : ere earth was made, I was ; when earth hath passed away, I still shall be !" For beauty mid sublimity, whose symbols poetry deciphers, and whose teachings poetry vocalizes, were in existence before time began, and vdll be when time shall be no more. Poetry — sweet blissful poetry ! it is still as beautiful as ever it was. The lovely flowers are jewelled with the pellucid rain ; they gently bow their odorous heads, and weep rich tears like ghttering pearls, and brightly beam with poetry. The glori- ous Night draws her veil across the cerulean canopy ; and as she strews her silver lamps in myriad starry groups, she writes upon the solemn skies the golden name of Poetry. Surely the midnight skies are the poetry of G-od — the embodied thoughts of Deity. Poetry is the beaming reflection of beauty. They are in- separably blended : and as long as tlie smiles of the Creator shall irradiate the face of nature, will they rejoice the world with then" united presence, ceaselessly adorning every spot of creation with their glorious gifts ; and then, when time shall cease to reign, poetry and beauty will, with their all-pervading splendour, flood with dazzling light every mansion of the blest ; they will sweetly float in the lays which immortal spirits will pour to the Almighty, and mingle in each tliriU of rapture they will feel. Before earth was created, yea, before heaven existed, beauty and poetry flowed from tlieir Fount, the everlasting God : blended together they formed the wreath of glory that crowned Divinity, irradiating the solemn darkness with sublimest rays of splendour : they grandly robed the Deity as He reigned 15 King of the unpeopled and unbounded cliaon, while time lay in the womb of the far distant futurity. They mingled in every action, of the Omnipotent, whenever He spake His words were sweetest poetry, beaming with richest beauty. And when at His mighty command the heavens sprang into a uever- (mdiug existence, poetry and beauty clothed all that those life-giving words brought into birth. They together wandered over those indescribably happy mansions, leaving their glori- ous impression upon every s]3ot ; and when myriads of angels were created, to fill that blissful land and feel the ecstacy of life and companionship with their Creator — they, the sweet twin- sisters, poetry and beauty were heard in the music of their pinions, seen in their beaming countenances ; and as their joyous voices simultaneously poured forth harmonious strains of celestial adoration, they sublimely mingled in those grateful melodies, and filled the listening air with glorious praise. And when from the chaotic darkness, the Ahniglity created this wondrous world, beauty and poetry descended on the radiant wings of light — they were heard in the warblers' melodies, in the ripplings of the rill, in the raeanderings of the river, in the majestic I'oll of the ootan, in the gentle music of the balmy breeze, and the rustling of the loaves : they were revealed in the lovely face of nature, for Jehovah infused them into all creation : they have existed — oh, gloriously existed — till the present time ; and when Time sinks in the horizon of Eternity, a.'S the stream is merged in the ocean, and lost m its vastness, even then beauty and poetry will not die : they will survive the wreck of time, and the fall of kingdoms : they will outlive the death of nature, and the death of Death himself : then will they shew their inmiortality and their unyielding power. While the archangel places one foot upon the land and the other on the sea, proclaiming, with a voice of thimder reaching to earth's remotest bounds, that time shall be no more — while the graves give up tlieir dead, wlio, wondering, gaze upon the solemn scene — wliile vivid lightnings flash, and loudest thun- ders peal, — amid all the consternation occasioned by the overthrow of time, and the reign of eternity — while the Lord descends in all His glorious majesty, upon clouds dazzlingly white, and mighty armies of angels attend His second coming — poetry and beauty will cxnltingly arise, with undiminished glory from the conllagrations of earth. As an innumerable multitude hear the blissl'ul words fi'om their liedeemcr's lips, "Come ye blessed of My Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world," think you not that to those enrn|)tured ears the sweetest ))oetry and beauty will be conveyed in those welcome, oh, dearly welcome words ! it; And a3 upon spirit-pinions they soar upward, and still upward, tlirough the angel-thronged, the melody-resounding sky, irra- diating beauty beams from their dazzling countenances, and poetry fills the air with richness at each quiver of their musical wings ; and as they follow in their Redeemer's golden track sweetening their bright pathway with a shower of melody. Oh list to the song that their glad voices sing. As up to their mansions their bright way they wing : "All glory and honour, our Author, to Thee — all praise and all power be given ; We will strike our bright harps in Thy glorious praise, when we enter the mansions of heaven. We loved Thee on earth, we adored Thee below ; and that joy shall be ours now for ever : Our affections to Thee shall unceasingly flow, as .the stream to the wide rolhng river. As nearer we come to Thy dazzling home, oh, the splendours are growing more bright : We are lost in refulgences beaming from Thee, Thou Source of this heavenly hght. But our sight is increased : we can gaze on the scenes, though brighter, still brighter they grow ; And through glories on glories, that stream from our Lord, oh higher, still higher we go. What sweet thrills of rapture we blissfully feel as we enter the amaranth bowers. To know that our Saviour shall aye be our King, and His heavenly home too be ours, — To live in the light of His fatherly smile, and the bliss of His fathomless love, — To hear the kind words of His dearly loved voice, wherever in rapture we rove. We strike our bright harps, and with glad voices sing, as Thee, our Lord God, we adore ; All glory and honour our Author to Thee, — all praise and all power evermore." Tes, poetry and beauty will outhve the overthrow of Time; they will arise Pha3nix-hke out of the ashes of the world they once glorified ; they will arise, with unabated strength and undimmed lustre, upon their unsullied pinions, to the home of the blest, there to exist through the everlasting ages of Eternity. The Scriptures contain the finest poetry which the pen ever wrote : the language of the Bible is the sublimest that eye 17 ever read, or ear ever lieai'd. How rich in imagery — how full of thought — how pregnant with mightiest meaning is that most holy Book ! It is full of wisdom, beauty, and poetry ; wisdom is stamped on each verse, beauty clothes each chapter, whilst its every page is gloriously illuminated with poetry. And how could it be otherwise, when the minds whence those undying passages emanated were inspired by God, and the fingers that penned that everlasting Book were guided by a Divine Hand ! It is Jehovah's Work, and every other work sinks into utter insignificance before that matchless master- piece of wisdom. Would joii seek for Poetry ? — unfold its leaves, and you will revel in poeti-y far more beautiful than any this world has produced or ever will produce. Woidd you search for History ? — oh, where are the histories that can vie with those of the Bible ? Would you find Subhmity ? — its every page is brightened with the subhmest passages. Would you discover Pathos ? — it is one of the chief constitu- ents of the Bible. Would you behold Truth ? — the Bible is an inexhaustible well, full to overflowing with the loftiest and most solemn truths. Would you gaze upon Beauty ? — go to the Bible, and it wil^smile upon you in its highest, noblest perfection. It contains rich mines of wisdom, bright gems of thought, and golden veins of language. All that tends to elevate man can there be found : — it is an everlasting finger- post pointing out the road to happiness — a messenger of love, sent down by God to be the hght of life ; a welcome, a thrice welcome messenger, kindly speaking to us of a Saviour's love, and soothingly telling us of a land beyoud the grave — A land where sorrow is unknown. It is the joy of earth : it is the beacon-hght that guides the weary tempest-tossed voyager to the harbour of eternal Ufe. Oh holy Book ! beloved Bible ! how precioiis thou art ! far, far more precious than gold of Peru, or pearls of Golcou- da ! Thou driest the tears of the mom-ner, and husliest the sighs of the sorrow-laden heart : in thee there is a balm for every wound, and he who sits dowm to thee in sadness, rises with smiles. Thy voice is sweet music to the troubled in spirit : there are infinitely more attractions in thee than in aU the works of the most celebrated writers of classic ages ; for Our whole souls are overwhelmed witli thy splendours ; — thou art the rarest and the most inestimable treasiu-e thai tliis world contains. Is there a homo without thee ? Can it bo called a home where thou art not ? Oh, no ! that house deserves not the sacred name of home where the Bible is not to be found. But it is a thouglit which causes heart-felt thankfulness that Albion does not alone possess the Book of Inspiration, but 18 she has sent it far across the deep blue main, and with it messengers of peace and love to explain it to our far-distant benighted fellow-men. Oh, soon may the bhssful time arrive when it shall be as universal as the air we breathe, and when the whole world shall Hve according to its admirable precepts ! The boldest and noblest flights of the greatest writers of every country — those works by which they are immortalized — oh, how very feeble they are when compared with that glowing fire, that ii'resistible force, and that lofty subhmity of arrangement so remarkable in the Scriptures. AU other books fade into nothingness before the Bible, like stars before the rising smi. The sweetest melodies of the poet, the loftiest eloquence of the orator, the grandest revelations of the pliilo- sopher, or histories world-wide in their range — all of earth's best writings, oh, what are they put in comparison with the Book of books ? It matters not to what part we turn : each is alike beautiful — each is glorified with imearthly splendours. Whether we read the graphic narratives of Mo- ses, or the unrivalled histories which succeed ; whether we ponder the magnificent foreshadowings of the prophets, or peruse the poetical writings of Solomon and David ; whether we follow the footsteps of our Lord with the evangelists, — who so truthfully portray His birth, life, death, resurrection, and ascension, whether we contemplate the doings of the Apostles, learn holiness from their instructive epistles, or are lost in wonder and admiration over that noble poem, the Apocalyse — the prophetic revelations of St. Jolm : — still poetry and beauty meet our view in every page, and brightly illumine the whole. They wreathed Isaiah's heaven- taught harp, and flowed from the hps of the sweet singer of Israel ; they beamed from the star that guided the wise men to where the Saviour lay in the manger ; they arose in sweet- est fi-agrance from the costly gifts presented to the Messiah by the sages of the East ; they flowed from His Ups as He discoursed with the learned doctors ; they richly mingled in His sermon on the mount, and fell upon the listeners' ears Uke soothing music fi-om above, and sank into their yielding hearts hke precious drops of balm from " Hermon's dewy hill ;" they unfolded themselves in every miracle which He performed ; and when upon Calvary the mysterious plan of redemption was being accomphshed, aon-owful poetry issued from His dying voice, as He exclaimed in angush, "Eh, Eli, lama sabacthani !" and yielded up the ghost. In the death of tlie Savioiir what love, poetry, and beauty were sacredly combined : love, for His alFection was boundless, unfathom- able as Eternity ; poetry, for the avfful mystery accomphshed 19 was the grandest of poetry ; beauty, for oh how solemnly beautiful was the self-consecrated death of the God-Man ! The Seasons as they roll along unceasingly unfold the varied shades of the beautiful : its tints, though changeful, are ever bright ; and its scenes, though shifting and successive in their aspects, never fade. Each, with its peculiar but ever-pleasing attributes, richly developes the beautiful. The joyous Spring comes arrayed in flowei-y garlands, beaming with brightest smiles, singing the sweetest melodies, and wearing around her spotless brow the immortal wreath of beauty. The glowing Summer brmgs her cloudless days and calm twilight nights, and viewless zephyrs that float whisperingly along, breathing upon her mantle of beauty. The variegated Autumn is appai'elled with innumerable tints of the beautiful ; and old old Winter, although he is robed in snows, is not less beautiful than liis predecessors. It is a calm Spring day. The lovely flowers begem earth's emerald carpet ; the warblers pour forth their delicious melo- dies, as they flit along from tree to tree, whose branches are laden with clustering blossoms ; the gentle breeze steals' o'er the suuUt sward^ fanning the quivering face of Nature into sweetest music, making a grand Eolean harp of each blooming grove. A few white clouds, like hills of silver rising from an azure plain, are piled against the deep blue sky. The sparkling stream flows melodiously along, and at the musical whisper of the breeze the smiling flowers slowly bend their fragrant lieads, and softly touch its mumiuring waters. The blossoms drop from the boughs, the flowers fade and die away; but others as lovely as the departed ones appear, and still beauty reigns upon and brightens the earth. The Summer comes arrayed in radiant loveliness : — she comes, and earth gradually changes its aspect : but hath beauty forsaken it because the Spring hath wept an adieu ? Hath beauty forsaken it because many of its flowers have departed, like lovely visions of the silent night ? Oh, no ! for the brilliant Summer scatters jewels as bright as those that have fled with the Spring. It is a sweet Summer day : not a single cloud obscures the majestic dome ; the bright beams of the golden orb penetrate each spot of the huslied earth, batliing it in a rich flood of glory. No sounds disturb the silence that exists in such deep solemnity over all : earth seems wrapt in holy repo.se. But hark ! one solitaiy sound, like an unforgotten melody, sweetly falls upon the listening car : it is the gentle gurgling of the mountain-born rivulet, murmuring in its acrrpA way o'er many loroly spots, flowing on to the stream that rolls to the fathomless ocean. How 20 peaceful is the picture! Nature is vmruffled ; for the breeze hath softly siglied itself to sleep, faint with its luxuriant load of perfume. The dazzhng sun rolls silently to the blusliing west, and in grandest loveliness is descending towards the gold-flushed liills. It is a Summer eve ; the air is refreshingly cool ; tlie breeze partially awakens from its lethargy, and gently fans the motionless leaves ; they faintly quiver, while a bird with its rich notes makes sound sweeter than silence. Oh the beauty of a summer's evening cannot be portrayed ! It is fidl ; it overflows with inexpressible loveliness. What thrills of rapture penetrate the awe- filled heart, whilst watch- ing the glorious luminary depart, in aU his varied lovely dyes looking a grand farewell, as he fringes each leaf, and flower, and stream, and tree with his crimson &re\ The gorgeous Autumn reigns upon the variegated earth. Many of the flowers are gone, but the leaves, vrith their hues of russet, red, and yellow, that lie scattered in such profusion around, are almost as beautiful as the flowers of the Spring. The wind sighs a plaintive requiem amid the trembUng trees, divested of their green garments, as if it sorrowed for their departed gloiy — but Autumn is beautiful even in its melan- choly ; it is full of that beauty which leaves the greatest impression upon the mind, a beauty over which memory loves to hnger, as if it there found sometliing congenial with itself. The fruits of the year hang ripe upon the bending boughs, and nature appears as lovely as when the rosy spring sprinkled her fair blossoms upon its smiling face. The fruits and the flowers seem to vie with each other in beauty, and with silent yet eloquent voices proclaim the goodness of the Creator in thus so beneficently providmg for the gratification of mankind. "The earth is full of Thy riches," and ever dis- plays Thy unerring wisdom. The Winter comes with icy breath and snowy mantle, robing the earth in pm-est whiteness : but beauty reigns still ; for all the flowers are not yet gone, and the evergreens are fringed with the virgin pearly white, making the hoUy's crimson berries look lovelier still, and glow with a deeper colour. The feathery snow-flakes quiveringly fall through the still afr, and beautifvflly robe every spot they touch. The icicles hang from the cold branches of the trees, and the stfll colder edges of the rocks ; they wreathe the eaves of the an- cient mansion, and cluster round the crystal fountain that erewhile played in its gardens— its dancing waters now locked in the arms of wintry sleep — and the transparent pendants gleam in the mild rays of the sun, like the roof-lights of a fairy hall. When we awake in the morning, the enchantmg 21 landscapes — beautiful in their very grotesqueness — upon the window-panes, claim our unqualified admiration ; and thus is the very breath we exhale, transformed into objects of beauty, to gratify the appreciative eye of the lover of nature. How near akin in its eftect is this suggester of sweet meditation to the pictures in the ruddy embers of our winter-evening fire, though the productive cause of these phenomena are the oppo- site extremes of heat and cold. But all nature harmonizes to produce the Beautiful. Nature is an inexhaustible book whose every page is bright- ly illumined with beauty and poetry, and the oftener we peruse its glowing pages in a devout spirit, the nobler we become, and the more are we assimilated to the Divine Nature. Suns rise and set, the seasons perform then* revolutions, day rolls upon day, month follows month, year succeeds year, and yet they find no change in beauty. Wonderful are the changes which have been wrought — unlimited is tlie mighty sway of death ; generation after generation has been swept away ; kingdoms have fallen ; war has devastated the eartli, and peace hath sweetly smiled upon it ; — this globe has known changes wTiich defy description, and yet unchanged the beautiful remains, as bright and as glorious as ever ; it mingles in life, and it mingles in death, — yea, it mingles in everytliiug ; therefore is it immortal. The things that it has beautified have crumbled into dust ; the fair fonns upon which it hath poured its richest showers have dropped into the dreary tomb ; earth's loveliest flowers have been laid low by the ever-working scythe of Death ; yet the beautifid hath not died with them, for although it makes its abode in perishable objects, yet it is as imperishable as the un-dying soul. Earth is as full of beauty as the lap of spring with flowers ; and, oh ! when is tlie beautiful so grandly developed as when the lovely Night comes arrayed in all her magnificence ? She strews infinity with grandeur, and finnly stamps her seal upon the face of Nature, until it bears the most glorious im- pression of beauty. Niglit hath been victorious over Day, and now like a proud conqueror, she nobly treads the starry fields of heaven — Iier form majestic as a god, her dark robes brilliant with innumerable gems, beauty and sublimity mag- nificently combined in a crown of gloi-y encircling her regal brow. There is a grander, a far more solemn loveliness pre- siding over the earth wliilst tlie Night wields her queenly scep- tre, for heaven seems nearer and more holy then, and to the thoughtful mind a hallowed influence descends witli tlie sil- ver}' light raining down from those bright companies of stars. Flowers, fair lovely flowers ! ever beautifid ! Beauty hath 22 steeped you in all its sweetness ; for whether ye are blooming in our gardens, or preserved between the leaves of a favourite book, still, stiU, ye are beautiliil ; ye spangle the smiling earth with stars of beauty, appearing hke diamonds iipon the ver- dant sward. Oh, ye bright jewels, were ye dropped from angel's wings, that ye are so wondrously beautiful ! Oh, with what a fathomless love do I love you, beautiful flowers ! Fair flow- ers, ye are Natiu-e's sweetest poetry, her mute but eloquent teachers. If we inadvertently tread upon you, ye gently raise your beautiful heads, ye kiss our feet, then lovingly look in our faces, and breathe a richer perfume in return. Oh, what lessons do ye teach us, beloved flowers ! " Wlio would wish to live without flowers ? Where would the poet find liis images of beauty, if they were to perish ? Are they not the emblems of loveliness and ijinocencc, and the living types of all that is pleasing and graceful ? We compare young lips to the rose, and the white brow to the radiant lily ; the vrinning eye is blue as the violet, and the sweet voice like a breeze kissing its way through the flowers. We hang dehcate blossoms on the silken ringlets of the young bride, and strew her path with fragrant flowers as she leaves the church. We place them around the marble face of the dead in the 'narrow coffin, and they become emblems of our aflections — of pleasures remem- bered and hopes faded — wishes vanished, and scenes cherished in memory, all the more, because they can never return. We look to the far-off spring in other vallies — to the eternal sum- mer beyond the grave, where flowers that never fade bloom in those starry fields, which no chilly winter ever blew over. They come upon iis in spring like the remembrance of a plea- sant dream — a vision that hovered above us in sleep, peopled with shadowy beauties, and simple dehghts, embroidered with the richest hues of fancy. Sweet flowers ! that bring back again the scenes of childhood," — that awaken thoughts which unlock the fountains of the heart. " Om- sense of the beautiful in Nature is inseparably con- nected with flowers, they are truly her fairest and sweetest creation. As we gaze upon her loveliness through the eyes of the heart, these fairy-like emanations seem to lie cradled in the lap of earth as her last born and fragile offspring, over which bend, with silent tenderness, veneration, and love, all her more mature brother and sister plants. Thi'ough all the jarring discords and turmoils of life, there are ever rising up some soft harmonies, some chorus of pure emotion, moments when we re-enter as it were the Eden of our childhood, to sport and rejoice amidst its unfaded flowers and amaranthine bowers — therefore these blossoms have ever been held sacred 23 as the offering of love, and are bound up and associated with all the most touching epochs and emotions of our lives. They are consecrated in cro^vning every joyous festival to which they add a grace and poetry all their own ; they visit alike the cradle and the shroud, and their silent language is never more touching than when their drooping heads are pillowed on some new-laid grave, and watered by the mourner's tear — or on the green old mound, half obliterated by time — but which still holds (engraven on some heart) the spell of a past and never-to-be-forgotten history. Both poet and philosopher must agree that the Creator, in whom in their profound and spiritual essences exists, the fountain of all true poesy and philosophy, formed these sweet flowers to administer to the soul an innate love of beauty, to feed and awaken its purest and highest emotions, and lead us on, by a sense of pleasure to the contemplation of the ideal and the secret springs of truth and beauty. " The simple and the unlearned may in them find a deep lesson of wisdom, which the acumen of the student and phi- losopher may fail to compass — or the gazing astronomer not arrive at, in the midst of his profound investigations. With what a sympathetic interest are these dear plants imbued! how often do they speak to our moral consciousness as nothing else in God's universe can ! The vast and starry firmament is also fraught with its peculiar message to the soul, raising it in lofty and sublime contemplations — but only at night-fall are we permitted to gaze on its glories. The rainbow that spans the soft and distant landscape is lovely, but too ethereal, and for ' all our gazing will not stay.' The song of birds is sweet, and lulls the heart to repose, but to enjoy and indulge in this solace we must often winder from home and duties, or confine a pining prisoner to an unnatural and comparatively joyless life for our selfish pleasure. Then all hail to the fair flowers that ' Dwell beside our paths and homes,' — throwing their fragrance over hfc, making it a sunny Paradise, instead of a dreary wilderness that meet our glance mid festive scenes, hke sister spirits — or in the peasant's lowly cot, sing of hope and happiness and the better land — ever eloquent and cheering as the smiles of those wo love — or that win our gaze as wc roam amidst woodland solitudes, telling us ever the same true holy lesson ' Live for to-day, to-morrow's light, To-morrow'H cares shall bring to sight, fio sleep like closing flowers at night, And Heaven thy morn shall blcus. — Ida." 24 " Beautiful are the wild flowers, the daisies strewn like radiant pearls upon the grass ; and in deep woodland nooks the blue bells like an azure cloud fallen from heaven ; where primroses and violets nestle side by side on the warm and sunny banks." But if the field flowers are beautiful, the gar- den flowers are equally so. The crimson and white roses, dear England's lovehest flowers, sweeten the balmy air with richest odours ; they brightly sparkle with ghttering dewdrops wreathing them with a tiara of nature's gems! Morning, noon and night are they surpassingly beautiful ; and though the bee whilst humming its summer song, constantly extracts their sweetness, yet are they as rich and as beautiful as ever ; and when they droop and fade away, they still retain their per- fume, aud are gathei'cd by fair fingers and fondly preserved, giving fragrance to pages of beauty. All Flora's treasures are beautifid, and the flowers of the garden seem to vie with each other in sweetness and loveliness. We sighingly behold them fade away, but others as bright appear in their stead. How different it is with us! Death snatches away our dearest and lovehest flowers but otliers come not to supply their va- cant places. Om- gardens may be desolate for awliile, but the joyous Spring will again scatter her bright blossoms, studding them with beauty ; but the friends that we have lost by death are for ever gone. Gentle zephyrs wiU wander over their resting places, murmuring the sweetest music, and wafting the richest perfumes ; the warblers will sing their lays in the branches that overshadow them ; but the melodies of the breeze, and the songs of the birds will not awaken them from their dark sliunber. The flowers of the spring wfll bloom upon their graves, but all their varied loveliness wOl not restore them to life; — cloudless skies wiU smile above, and the sun shed his beams upon their tombs, but all his golden brightness will not chase away the shadow of Death that hovers there : — Autumn will sigh a plaintive requiem, as its gorgeous leaves of many varied hues are scattered over them ; its tears wdl fall there, and the snows of the winter shroud their place of rest in piu-est whiteness. But let us hope that in far brighter vestiu-e, far more spotless than the snowy shroud of Winter — they are now robed, whilst their beloved voices are joining in the glorious hallelujahs that bhssful throngs of angels pour to their Almighty King. There their bright eyes will never be clouded with tears ; there they will never feel pain or sorrow, for there all is happiness. Perhaps they now are gazing dovm upon the loved ones left behind, and filhng their mournfid hearts with blissful hope. How solemnly beautiful is Death ! — Have you not had the indescribable sorrow of gazing upon the lifeless form of one 25 •nho was very dear to you ? Have you not felt that death made a void m your heart which nothing could ever fill? Have you not looked with tear-dimmed eyes upon the inani- mate clay, and felt your utter desolation, when you knew that all your weeping would not restore the spirit to its earthly tenement ? Oh, then have you not felt that there has been beauty even in death — a solemn, a soul-impressing, a spu-it- thrilling, a sorrowful beauty, such as defies description, at- tracting yet repelling, indescribably mysterious? But though objects in which beauty is portrayed may die, the beautifiii itself never dies; it cannot die, for it is as im- mortal as its Author. It descended from above, and wher- ever it appears, it proclaims that it is heavenly. Oh, what would cartli be without the beautiful ! Divested of its glorious lustre, it would be far more gloomy than the darkest night ; but with the beautiful, it is a foreshadowing of heaven. Nature with her innumerable voices is everlat^tingly uttering the beautifid, and incessantly proclaiming that it ])roceeds from the Omnipotent. The waters, as in solemn music they surge along, roll the sublimest anthem to the Eternal ; the majesti* trees wave a lofty lay to Him who made them in their beauty rise ; the birds pour forth in strains of sweetest melody their grateful songs of praise to the Creator; the flowers waft their rich aroma upon the silken wings of the breeze, tliat softly whispers its gentle music ; all, all is beautiful, for all emanated from God. Then love the beautiful ! It loves thee ; it smiles upon thee from the dawn till the close of life. In thy infancy it beamed upon thee in a mother's smile, it mingled in tlie music of her voice, and it gave a brighter lustre to her eyes as she fondly gazed upon her beloved one. All through life it will attend thee in its varied forms and hues ; and even when death veils the scenes of earth from thy siglit, tlio beautiful flowers will spangle thy grave, the trees will nmsieally whisper over thee, and the birds and the breezes sing their sweet melodies there. Love tlie beautiful ; for wherever you gaze you meet its smiling face ; every spot beams with its lustre, every flower vmfolds its multifarious hues, and forms a part of its all-extended self. Love the beautiful ; for it will make thee noble and aspiring ; thou wilt gaze upon the scenes of earth with other eyes, and feel sweetest thrills of ecstasy pervade thine enraptured lieart. It is wortliy of being appreciated ; it is worthy of being loved ; for when the sfiirit is east down, when life is overshadowed with gloom, when the heart is heavy with its load of care, the beautiful comes in its myriad sliapes, and with its in-adi- ating smiles brightens uU the darkness. Pcrlia])s it floats in a tone of music, or unfolds itself in the pages of a delight- 26 ful book, or is seen in a sweet landscape : in whatever shape it appears, it is ever welcome, for it brings happiness upon its revivifying wings ; the heart loses its sadness, and loves the beautiful with a deeper love. Oh cherish and cultivate a love for the beautiful in thy heart, and it shall intersperse thy every care with joy, and shed around thee happiness and peace in thy sojourn here below. Endeavour by every means to promote a love for it among those by whom thou art surrounded, for it will illumine the darkest page of life, and strike its rays of celestial bright- ness into the depths of the most desponding soul : under its benign influence thy downcast brother " shall take heart again," and go on his way rejoicing. " Scatter the germs of the beautiful — By the wayside let them fall, That the rose may grow by the cottage-gate. And the vine on the garden-wall. Scatter the germs of the beautiful In the depths of the human soul ; They shall bud, and blossom, and bear thee fruit, While the endless ages roll." Whatever tends to elevate man in the scale of creation, to raise his mind, and lead him onward in the path of pro- gress to the attainment of excellence, that contains the germs of the beautiful. Whatever is calculated to fill his soul with high and holy aspirations, and make him strive after a more exalted state of existence, whatever helps to restore in man the lost image of divinity, that contains the germs of the beautiful. Whatever tends to create greater degrees of love and happiness in the family circle, to heighten the joys of domestic felicity, and to render home in truth happy, that contains the germs of the beautiful. Whatever instills into the breast of man greater love for his fellow-man, draws more closely the bonds of brotherhood around the heart, that con- tains the germs of the beautiful. Whatever helps to ameho- rate the condition of humanity, to alleviate suffering, or to send a thrill of joy into the heart heavy with the sorrows of tlie world, that contains the germs of the beautiful. What- ever aids the promotion of happiness and hope in the place of misery and despair ; whatever has a tendency to bring peace on earth, and goodwill to men, and to hasten the advent of the happy time which shall behold its accomplishment, that contains the germs of the beautiful, and those germs will break forth and bear fruit a hundred-fold, to the advancement of man's happiness, and God's glory. Language fails to utter all I feel in praise of the beautiful ; for if I could dip ray pen in the gorgeous hues of the resplen- 27 dent rainbow, so that my words might sparkle with their loveliness, — if I had drunk deeply of the mexhaustiblo fount of knowledge, — if I were endowed with illimitable treasures of deepest thought and richest fancy, — if I possessed the power of the mightiest mind that this world ever produced, even if I pos- sessed a mind capable of traversing the vmtrodden realms of infinity, I could not portray, in language adequate to the glo- rious theme, in how many hues and shapes tlie beautiful presents itself to the view. But if I liave succeeded in de- veloping some of the scenes in which it may be beheld, if I have unveiled any of its sweet features, then will these thoughts, imperfect though they be — then will this glimpse, transient as it is, implant within your soul a deeper love for the beautiful. THE OLD HALL. The old Hall lies in ruins, where a happy child I stray'd. And Desolation holds lier reign, where merrily I play'd ; The gardens are o'ergrown with weeds, each sculptured foun- tain's dry, • And through the echoing corridors thewindmoans mournfully. Tlie owl hoots from the lofty towerwherethecreepingivy clings, And wakes a du-ge-like music as he waves his sombre wings ; The court-yard's carpeted witli moss, and tear-like falls tlie dew O'er rank and tangled grass between the flagstones strugghng through. The frescoed ceiling's fallen down; the bat and raven roam Throughout that stately edifice, my old ancestral home : Where noble forms haveproudly stood, dai'k c^rumbhng ruins lie; Where lovely faces beam'd with smiles, black walls now greet the eye. The pictured glass lies shattcr'd o'er the broken marble floor. And the worm is gnawing to decay cacli quaint-carved oaken door; The portraits gaze not from the walls, the moonlight streamcth there. And pliantom shadows come and go through the solemn mid- night air. Dismantled is the ancient park, the deer roam far away ; The old majestic oaks are fell'd, and wasli'd with ocean's sprny; The rooks have found another home, but no otlier home have I, And tear on tear is coursing down, and sigh succeeding sigh. 28 I gaza upon my childhood's home, and hear the moaning breeze Sighing low and fitful requiems 'mid the trembling cypress- trees, — And through the lonely chambers where I heard my mother's voice, Whose tender accents ever made my loving heart rejoice. But she sleeps the long, deep sleep of death 'neath the ruin'd chapel stone, And in the wide, wide world I'm left, all friendless and alone ; Not one to breatlie a kindly word, or cheer my drooping heart — When wiU these dark and brooding clouds that shroud my life depart ? Weeds mar the broad lake's glassy face, its calm sweet beauty's o'er The stately snowy swan will glide o'er its smooth breast no more; Long grass waves o'erits broken banks, where the Forget-me-not Robed with romance and loveliness that oft-remember'd spot. My own dear garden's lying waste, uprooted is each flower ; Deserted is the summer-house, we named the "Roses' Bower," For roses mantled every spot, and blush'd in every nook, Breathing their fragrance as I pored o'er some old baUad-book. And when the distant hills were streak'd with sunset's gor- geous beams. Whose glorious lustre crimson-flush'd the silver-lilied streams, Oh ! then the roses brightly glow'd with a deeper, lovelier dye, While hues of purple and of gold o'erspread the dappled sky. When solemn niglit in gi'andeur reign'd, spanghng the boimd- less blue With starry orbs of golden hght, like angels gazing through, The dew-drops fringed each sleeping flower, and Philomel sang there, Filling with music sadly sweet the list'ning balmy air. But the Roses' Bower has fallen down— the flowers no longer bloom ; My childhood's home is desolate — all, all have foimd a tomb ; And though proud manliood's dawn has come, I long to be at rest. And meet the loved one5,gone beforc,inthe mansions of the blest. 29 FLOWEES. Flowers ! flowers ! beautifol flowers, Spangliug the gardens, the woodlands, and bowers ; Filling our hearts with the purest dehght, Dear as a glorious dream of the night, — Kich censers, exhaling fresh incense above; Summer-bells pealing of glory and love, — I love you in sunshine, I love you in showers, Flowers, flowers, beautiful flowers ! Oh earth's glowing stars ! were ye dropp'd fi-om the skies By minist'ring spirits, to gladden our eyes ? Have ye bloom'd in that land where the seraphim roam ? Have ye breathed your perfume in yon heavenly home, Where Spring ever reigns in her fau-est array, And not even one blossom e'er fadeth away ? Wliere the angels' sweet melodies thrill the blest bowers. Flowers, flowers, beautiful flowers ! Ye are kiss'd by the breeze, as it wooingly floats And wafts you the warblers' thanksgiving notes ; Illumed by' the beams of the bright orb on high, And freshen'd with dewdrops that lovingly lie And sweeten to honey on each velvet breast. Which the bee and the butterfly sip as they rest ; Whilst ye sparkle with jewels from Summer's soft showers. Flowers, flowers, beautiful flowers ! Ye adorn the bright tress of the beautiful bride, Adding beauty to beauty in ghttering pride ; Ye bloom on the graves of the deeply-mourn'd dead, And remind us of joys that for ever have fled : Pure emblems of pleasure, pale emblems of pain. Causing bright sunny smiles, and the heart's tearful rain. Your influence is mighty, — oh, great are your powers. Flowers, flowers, beautiful flowers ! And when I'm at rest in the dark solemn tomb. Fair flowers, sweet flowers, I implore you to bloom On the grave of the one who hath loved you so well. More deeply, more truly than language can tell. Ye have caused me to weep, ye have caused me to smile, And my heart from its sorrows ye often beguile : I'll love you, I'll love you, 'mid sunshine and showers. Flowers, flowers, beautifid flowers ! 30 EVEEY HEAET KNOWETH ITS OWN SOEEOW. Truly each heart its own deep sorrow knows, — Some hidden woe, too sacred for the world, Lies ever in its innermost recess, Silently wasting the fail' life away, Like wan decay slow feeding on a rose. The face may beam with smQes, the eye be bright, The brow be cahn and placid as a lake Unruffled by a solitary breeze To wake the water-lilies from their sleep ; And joyous words come ringing from the lips ; Yet the lone heart may ache with agony, And heave and throb with a ne'er-whisper'd grief. Friend ! dost not thou this world-wide truth attest, Thy bosom swelling with some secret pain ? Dost thou not wear the shadow of some cloud ? Ai'e there no deep-set thorns that pierce thy soul ? Oh, by that sigh my answer I receive, And by that tear is told our sympathy ! A LIFE-EHTME. Suggested hy Longfellow^ s noble ''Psalm of Life." Oh my brother, spirit-weary. Toiling up the steep of Time, 'Mid the mist, by passes dreary. To a nobler, happier clime ! Though thy sky be overclouded, Though thy patli be dark and drear, Though thy soul with doubt be shrouded, Oh let Faith still conquer Fear ! Be thy Hfe-cry " Forward " ever : And thy heart be strong and true, From its purpose swerving never ; Much is thine to bear and do. Though sharp thorns bestrew thy pathway ; Though thou faUest, yet arise ; — Undiscouraged, onward, upward Press with faith that never dies. 31 Let the cheering thought console thee, Thou hast one true Friend above, Who is ever watching o'er thee With a never-waning love. Though His face awhile be hidden Prom thy sad, desponding view, Oh, remember clouds of darkness Often veil the heavenly blue : Yes ; but when those clouds are parting. Far more beauteous it appears, Like a flower raindrop-laden, Smihug through its pearly tears. So the darkest hour, remember, Gloonicth just before the morn, When Night's starry eyes are closing, Ere her child, the Day, be born. He Uvetli well who nobly doeth, He liveth well who bravely grieves ; Each his destined path pursueth. Each his own reward receives. Be thy life-cry " Forward " ever ; Let thy heart be strong and true. From its purpose swerving never ; Much is thine to bear and do. THE BUNCH OF VIOLETS. " MOTHEE, mother! cZolook! oh, what beautiful violets!" and the blue eyes of tlie lovely child sparkle with animation as she intently fixes them upon her mother's face. " Hliall I not gather them, and weave them into a posy ? Oh, they will make such a sweet posy to put in my Uttle room." The assent is lovingly given, and the delighted Laura eagerly plucks them, one by one, from their grassy bank, and smilingly en- twines them into a nosegay ; and with a lightsome heart sho gaily trips across the flowery mead, — now chasing a butter- ' fly, whose rainbow hues please her fancy, and now gazing on the reflection of her lovely face pictm-ed ui the eilveiy stream. 32 The -violets are tastefully arranged in the clear spring wa- ter, and placed on the sill of the casement, whose pretty dia- mond panes arc sliaded by the clustering roses that lovingly clamber over them, sweetening them with the richest odours ; and the glorious rays of the setting sun gleam through the trembhng leaves of the roses, and brightly gaze upon the sweet bunch of violets. And now the evening prayer is slow- ly, softly uttered by that melodious voice ; and as it floats from those little rosy lips, angelic spirits bear the welcome music to the eternal mansions above, to mingle with their heavenly harmonies. Befoi-e Laura retires to her couch, she bestows another lov- ing look upon her treasured flowers, inhales their fragrant perfume, and leaving a good-night kiss upon each folding leaf, she sinks into her snowy nest ; and when folded in the gen- tle arms of slumber, dreams lovely dreams of valleys fidJ of blossoming violets. ****** A year has rolled away, and that mother is lonely now. There is a little grave added to the village churchyard, over- grown with violets, planted by the trembling hands of a be- reaved and sorrowing parent, and constantly watered by her unavailing tears. The flowery Spring hath again spangled the smiliug earth with her wreathed garlands, and they are blooming upon the grave of her who will never more behold their varied beauties. She is sleeping the dreamless sleep of death, beneath that sacred spot over which her little feet had so often wandered, and the flowers that she loved so well are shedding their perfume upon her tomb. Her spirit hath retm'ned to its Creator. The fair bud was too delicate, too beautiful to expand into bloom ; therefore Death was com- missioned to pluck it from the garden of Earth, and he intrusted it to the care of guardian angels, who, with a song of glorious exultation, transplanted it in the amaranthine bowers of Immortality. In her now solitary chamber the weeping mother mournfully gazes upon a withered bunch of violets — they are brightly sparkling, not with the rain-drops of nature, but with the tear- drops of one whose sunshine has departed. She is thhiking of the blissfid fast, when the merry prattle of her beloved one fell in sweetest music upon her enraptured ears, and when the sight of her lovely face was dearer than aught else in the wide world. She is thinking of the present, and knows, alas ! too well, that the tones of that dear voice are for ever hushed, and that never-to-be-forgotten face is for ever shrouded from her view. Low, and lower still, bends that pale face over the 33 moistened flowers ; and tlirough the blossoming roses stream the crimson rays of the setting sun, and brightly fall upon the Bunch of Violets. A SPEING-TIME SONNET. The earth is rich with beauty, sweet with song, And fairest flowers begem each verdant field, And lavishly their fragrant mcense yield ; While Zephyr's whisper'd music floats along. In blooming bowers the quiv'ring leaves are wreathed With crystal drops that feU in cooling showers, And all around the balmy winds have breathed, And gladd'ning sunbeams smile on ghst'ning flowers : Meek violets, fair lUies-of-the-vale, Pale primroses, gold cowslips, and blue-beUs, — And honeysuckles, whose sweet odours sail In viewless vapours through the vocal dells. Where many a mnrm'ring bee rich nectar sips From pearl-wreathed rosebuds' parting ruby lips. OH, COIME TO ME, LOVE! Oh, come to me. Love ! in the beautiful grove '\^Tiere the moonbeams are pouring their light ; And through the luxuriant gardens we'll rove, And gaze on the splendour of night. Ten thousand bright stars look down from the sky. And the fountains are filHng tlic air With crystalline jewels, that lucently vie With the lilies and roses fair. The soft air is laden with sweetest perfume, And the nightingale warbles his lay ; The faint zcpliyrs sigh where the fresh flowers bloom, And bear their rich fragrance away. Then, come to me. Love ! in the beautiful grove. And fill my lone heart with delight. As througli the luxuriant gardens we rove, While the moonbeams are pouring their hght. D 34 A POETEAIT. Oh for the power to paint that peerless one — In glowing tints, true to fair Natm-e's touch, Portray the loveliness enthroned on her, The matchless master-piece of Beauty's works. She is more beautiful than rosy morn, Or fairest visions of the silent night ; Her eyes are davkly blue as midnight skies Unsullied by a solitary cloud ; Tor they have caught the blue-bells deepest dye, And the twin lust'rous orbs with light are fill'd Like sunlit dewdrops in a violet, And ever beam with such resplendency, They dazzle the beholder's duller sight. Her cheeks appear like pink-flush'd ocean shells, Blushing at the soft wavelets' gentle kiss : Like snowy roses, delicately tinged With the last ray of the receding sun. And smiles go ripphug o'er her lovely face. Like sunshine playing o'er a dimpled lake. Rich music floats from her vermilion lips In strains dehcious as the voice of Spring; Those parted portals whence such music steals, Seem painted with a rose-bud steep'd in dew ; Her small teeth gleam like radiant, purest pearls, Between twm crimson rose-leaves, sweetly wreathed | Caressing ringlets cluster rouiid her neck. And kiss it for its graceful symmetry. She teems with beauty, as the sun with light ; Pair Innocence upon her placid brow Beams hke the moon-hght on a hly pale. And gladness flows throughout her guileless heart Like a stream gliding through a verdant vale. Oh, she is pure and fair as a young rose Just bursting from its bud to greet the day ! Where'er she moves there shines a path of light, For Happiness ne'er leaves her fav'rite child. HOPE. 'TiS the solemn hour of midnight, And the world lies hush'd in sleep ; But I sit in my lonely chamber — I sit all alone and weep. 35 My heart is laden with soiTOW, And my Ufe is overcast, — For the cloud-robed spectral Present Points to the sunny Past. I hear Life's measured footsteps Resound through the halls of Time, Unrestingly marcliing onward To the mystic spirit-clime ; So my sad heart's heavy tlu-obbings Brmg me nearer to the grave, Like a vessel huri'ied homeward By an ever-restless wave. The starry eyes of the angels Through the cloudless canopy gleam, In a ceaseless sentinel watch, While I muse in a sleepless dream. As their lioly light is falling. Falling all silently, A repose steals o'er my spirit, Liie a calm o'er a troubled sea : For they solemnly symbol a home above, Where sorrow is never known ; Wliere the deathless King of a dcatliless clime Sits on the " great white throne." Though my soul with Despair be clouded, Yet the star of Hope doth beam. And its glance on my heart descends. Like light on a shaded stream. And ray worn and weary spirit Gains vigom' and strength again. Like a fading, dying flower Efifresh'd by the gentle rain. Oh, in sunshino or in shadow. To Thee, the Only One, May my trusting heart ever whisper, — "My Lord, Thy will be done!" 36 THE BEAUTIFUL BANKS OF THE WINDING WYE. There are climes where bright birds, of rainbow-hued wings, Soar gaily o'er gardens of myrtle and flowers ; Wliere Beauty profusely her rich treasure flings, And Eden seems smiling 'mid blossoming bowers : But England has scenes far more precious to me, Than the fairest that glow beneath Italy's sky ; Till Life's river be merged in Eternity's sea. Will I think of the banks of the clear winding Wye. The loveliest flowers bend gracefully there, As the balmy breeze wliisp'ringly wanders along ; Diffusing fresh odours that scent the soft air, While the glad stream flows singing its musical song. Fair garden of England ! bright gem of our Isle ! Like a glory-Ht star in the infinite sky ; Oh, sunny as Summer and sweet as her smile Are the beautiful banks of the calm winding Wye. G-reen valleys besprinkled with Spring's fairest flowers, O'ershadow'd with branches that lovingly twine. Illumined with sunbeams that glance through the bowers, And over the woodland-paths tremblingly shine. The rip'ling rUl slowly meanders away, And flow'r-kissing zephyrs steal wooingly by ; While the lark is out-pouring his jubilant lay, As he soars o'er the banks of the bright winding Wye. Oil, these scenes of the West shall ne'er be forgot. Whatever my fate, or wherever I roam ; For still will I think of each beautiful spot. And there wUl my memory image its home. And as my heart trembles with blended emotion, I turn with regret, and depart with a sigh ; But roving o'er land, or saUing o'er ocean, rU remember the banks of the fair winding Wye. A SUMMEE EVENING. The sky is dappled o'er with snowy clouds^ Whose virgin loveliness like foam appears Floating afar upon an azure sea. I gaze and think till thought itself seems lost, And my thrill'd soul in admiration's drown'd ;- I gaze until mine outward eyes grow dim. 37 And inward vision dazzled dies away. Oh God ! how glorious are all Thy works, — How wonderfully grand, and yet how fair ; Kare combination, yet by Thee combined, For nothing is impossible to Thee. This lovely summer eve seems dropp'd from heaven, It is so sweetly beautiful. The breeze Is silent, slumb'ring with the folded flowers ; The hlied lake is still as childhood's sleep, Calm as the sunset sky its face reflects ; Nature hath hush'd the music of her voice, Whose gentle tones have softly died away. Like the last notes of an iEohan harp. Breathless as marble, lo ! she humbly stands Absorb'd in holy adoration, mute. Her bright eyes solemnised, and her rich Hps Parted in wonderment, whilst her full heart Throbs v?ith deep solemn awe incessantly. "THE GEM. A DEOP fell from the fountain. And kiss'd a weeping rose. While brightly o'er the moimtain The silv'ry moon arose. She shone upon the flower. And a resplendent gem Glisten' d in that sweet bower, Meet for a diadem. THE DEATH OF ISABEL. It was night — chaste, beautiful night ! Magnificently ar- rayed in all her lovehness, she reigned m silence o'er a silent world, spangling the boundless blue with innumerable gems of silver hght, which beamed like the eyes of angel- sentinels keeping an untiring watch over a Blumberiug world. All above, beneath, around, was so sublimely solemn, so grandly beautiful, it seemed the reflection of a fairer, hapi)ier home than ours — a lingering shadow of the Paraclisc our parents lost, or a foreshadowing of that bhssful Heaven all wish to gain. All was silent as death, except those sounds which are sweeter than silence, and to which silence — in its vast unbro- ken intcnfity too awfully monotonous — lends the charm that 38 the dark shading of a pictiu-e produces on its brighter colours. The nightingale sang his plaintive melody among the blossom- ing roses : below the breeze conversed in soft wliispers with the trembling leaves, as the dew-drops trickled from their de- licate tracery ; and the pellucid rivulet rippled onwards, toy- ing with the quivering moonbeams as it passed. On many a beautiful spot those gentle moonbeams shone that lovely smnmer night. They shone on parterres of flowers of variegated hues, purple and white, crimson, gold, and blue, with the glorious colours of the rainbow brightly commingled : and Flora's precious treasm-es appeared still more beautiful, bathing in the translucent light of the argentine beams of the moon. Where the meandering waters murmured a mingling melody to the star-crowned night — where clustering roses bloomed in the richest profusion, white as the moimtain's snow, or of the deep rich hues of a siimmer sunset ; oh, there pale Cyntliia's rays in beauty fell, and brightened aU they smiled upon. On sleepless eyes and tear-bedewed cheeks, — on happy forms, dreaming sweet dreams, those moon- beams shone ; on the fevered brow of the pale student as he pursued his midnight toil — on the fair brow of slumbering youth, unruffled by a single care — on the palace and the cot, those moonbeams ihone ; on the votaries of pleasure, and the pallid face of want — on the peopled city, and the quiet hamlet, those moonbeams shone ; on the calm sleep of fairy innocence, the placid features of thoughtless, sweetly-resting childhood, and on the broken slumber of writhing guilt, those moon- beams shone ; on the easy postures of recumbent health, and the restless contortions of wan disease, those moonbeams shone ; on the roUing ocean, the flowing stream, and the rippling rOl, they calmly gazed and were pictured again to the view : through the wide-spreading branches of the majes- tic old oaks surrounding a noble mansion — tlarough the Go- thic windows they silently stole, and solemnly gazed on the beautiful countenance of the dying. Oh for the power to portray the exquisite loveliness of that fair form on which those moonbeams shone ! Beautiful, in- deed, are the scenes which the fervid imagination of the poet beholds in the golden realms of fancy ; — glorious are the noble portraits that glow upon the eloquent canvass ; — love- lier than thought are the sweet visions of the silent night : but if all the embodmients of beauty were gracefully blend- ed in one form, it could not equal her, who seemed more Uke a seraph from the eternal mansions, than a being of mortal mould. As purely white as newly-fallen snow was that an- gelic brow ; and as the luminous beams of night fell upon it, 39 she appeared already one of the blissful throng — that miilti- tude whom no man can number, who people the sides of the everlasting hiUs, and adorn the banks of the river of life. Upon those fair cheeks clustered the golden ruiglets, and, like radiant sunbeams, the rich silken tresses rippled o'er her swan-hke neck, and seemed to caress its favdtless sym- metry. As deeply blue as the azure vault on high were those radiant orbs, veUed by the long, finely- cm-ved eyelashes. The lips, now violet-tinged, were- slightly parted, reveahng twin rows of small pearly teeth, gleaming hke jewels in their velvet setting. Oh, she was truly beautiful ! and surely those moonbeams had never gazed upon such loveliness. But she was dying — that lovely one was dying! Her graceful form was soon to be clasped in the chill embrace of death ; — those soul-thrilling eyes were shortly to be closed in their long, last sleep ; — the sweet music of that voice would be for ever silent ; — the fond, faithful heart would cease to throb. She was dying ! — the idol of my soul was dying ! I knelt beside her bed, my hand in hers, gazing in awful agony upon those beloved features, so ineffably dear to me, but speecUly to be fop-ever hidden from my adoring eyes by the voiceless tomb. She had just awakened from a long slumber ; and while the body slept, death had more firmly fixed his grasp upon his prey : I felt his cold shadow in the chamber, and my blood froze at ray heart. Then I knew with what boundless affection — with what deep, fathomless devotion I loved her ; — she was my all — the star of my existence — the only Ught, the only joy, the only hope, I had on earth ! And she was to bo torn from me, to be consigned to the dark, deep, solemn abode of death ! At that agonizing thought, the foun- tain of my anguish ov<^rflowed, and the burning tears rolled down my pale cheeks. Memory's retrospective vision was fixed upon the past, and pictured again those scenes that were now doubly dear. In fancy's gaze I beheld her once more in healthful vigour ; — a scene was unfolded to my view which will never be erased from my thoughts. It is a calm summer night, and we are roaming together through the romantic gardens attached to that ancient Hall. Her brilliant eyes are bent now upon the moonlit flowers at her feet, and now upturned to the star- studded sky ; whilst I am gazing, in mute admiration, upon her serapbic countenance, illumed by the soft beams of the gentle queen of night. And now her loving glance answers mine, and a sweet smile flits like a sunbeam over her lovely face as I imprint a holy kiss upon her ruby lips. That hour, that scene, will never be obliterated from the records of my iicart, but will remain indelibly stamped there by the pen of sorrow. 40 There she lay now, the wasted shadow of the beautiful bemg^ she once was ; but, like the ruin of some stately palace, inspir- ing mournful admiration. Her eyes shone with a lustrous brightness ; — but it was the brightness of approaching disso- lution — the immistakeable herald of decay. Her slender lips moved, and feebly uttered my name ; — sadly she looked in my face, and sighed ; and at that heart-rending sigh my tears flowed faster, "Do not weep for me," she sorrowfully murmured, as she beheld the tears rolling down my cheeks. ^'' Not weep for thee !" I rephed, between my sobs ; — "not weep for thee, my beloved one ! when thou wilt soon be for ever parted from me ; — aU that is dear to me taken from me ! Not weep for thee ! when I shall be deprived of the bliss of fondly gazing into thine eyes, and attempting to tell *hee how I love thee ! I will weep for thee till death lays me by thy side." Warm tears bedewed her pallid cheeks, and as I gently kissed them away, she faintly whispered, " I am dying ; — a few short moments, and my spii-it will have winged its flight. Yes ; I must leave thee ; thou wilt no more behold the one thou hast loved so well — upon whom thou hast lavished all thy affection. Oh, it is sad, very sad to part ! — but I am go- ing to a better, a happier land, where sorrow can never enter — where death is unknown, Promise me, oh, promise me that thou wilt strive to meet me there, — never more to be parted, Farewell! In death I love thee, — farewell!" Her voice died gently away ; and, with her arms around my neck, she breathed a long, last sigh, and expired. For a while I thought she slept. Ah, yes ! it was a sleep — but the solemn sleep of death. Dead ! I could scarcely trust my senses ! Could such a form of living, breathing, incomparable beauty have changed, thus instantly, into cold, lifeless clay ? I pressed my lips to hers, — but the faint breath had ceased to emanate. I laid my hand upon her heart, — but it was still. Then, alas ! in that never-to-be-forgotten moment of deepest anftuish, I knew too well that I was alone upon earth. I shi'ieked in my agony; and, exclainiing,"Would to Grod I, too, could die ! " I sank senseless by her side. When consciousness returned, the sun was streaming through the crimson roses that girt the antique window, cast- ing a blushing hue upon the white drapery, and upon the marble face of death ! Oh, she was sadly, sweetly beautiful, even in the icy arms of the stern king of terrors f I gazed till I could gaze no longer, for reason seemed about to abdicate its throne ; and imprinting a lingering, farewel* 41 kiss upon her bloodless lips, I slowly descended to the park, that the refreshing breezes might fan my fevered brow. * Where a deep-red weeping rose O'er a marble tablet grows, There, in her last, long repose, Sleeps my lovely Isabel. Where pale Silence holds her breath, Till the hush'd wind whispereth To the solemn shade of Death, Sleeps my lovely Isabel. Where tlie priest-hke cypress-tree Waves its dark robes mournfully. Sighing a sad monody, Sleeps my lovely Isabel, Where veil'd Nature's tear-drops fall From th&«sky's fimereal pall In a sombre shower o'er all. Sleeps my lovely Isabel. Where the sunbeams gently shine. And beloved roses twine With the od'rous eglantine. Sleeps my lovely Isabel. Where the woodbine's balmy breath Sweetens e'en the home of death, And the bent grass quivereth. Sleeps my lovely Isabel. O'er her bloom the fairest flowers. O'er her fall the softest showers, In the Spring and Summer houi-s. O'er my lovely Isabel. All my hopes, which death has shatter'd. With which fancy oft was flatter'd. Now with Autumn's leaves lie scattcr'd O'er my lovely Isabel. There my happiness lies dead. There my grief is ever fed, There my bitter tears are shed. O'er my lovely Isabel. 42 But the violet's sweet perfume, Springing out of Winter's gloom, Symbols life beyond the tomb, — Life with lovely Isabel. 'Tis but earth on earth that lies ; In the land where love ne'er dies, Far beyond the blue-draped skies, Lives the soul of Isabel. CHEISTMAS-DAY, 1855. Oh, merry old Christmas has come again, Bedeck'd with holly and bay ; And liis welcome face, with its cheering smile, Gleams brightly 'mid winter's decay; And friend greets friend with a cordial grasp — Dear friends, whom the waves of Time Have sever'd for many and many a day. In many a distant cUme ; And a joy-flush glows on each fair one's face. And bright eyes glisten with glee. While cheerful words gush forth from the lips. For the heart is light and free. •'o' But I feel no pressure of the hand, I liear no friendly voice. And I see no welcome, smiling face, To make my heart rejoice ; And my lone heart lonelier feels to-day. As I sit in moody thought ; For Christmas again wOl have pass'd me by, And not e'en one greeting brought. I gaze around on my much-loved books — Firm friends, select and few — My only friends, who speak to my soul In language for ever true. 43 I am floating away on Memory's wing Down the vista of the past, And by-gone years are raised from their tombs By a spell she has o'er them cast ; And they wake their children from their sleep,- The months, the days, and the hours, — And some are bright as the Summer's light, Some sad as the Autxunu's showers ; And each unfolds a scene to my view, As on them I mournfully look, As if I were turning over the leaves Of a well-remember' d book. But they fade Uke a dream all dimly away, As slowly I jom-ncy along ; Winle others arise from their misty tombs, In a ghost-like, shadowy throng ; And they picture visions of sun and shade. That fill me with joy and woe, Like the chahcc pleasure holds to the lips. Where sweets and bitters flow. And stiU, as I onward wend my way, From my yearning gaze they flee. Like his native cUifs from an exile's view. As he's hurried away o'er the sea. But Memory pauses in her flight. And I look with ling'ring heart On a dear old place whei-c early friends Play'd a brief but happy part. I'm far away from the peopled town. In a noble, ancient I [all, And gaze through the antique lattice-panes On the snow-flakes as they fall. They gently fall on the village church. And robe the ivied tower Til a mantle pure and beautiful As Spring's fii'st, fairest flower. 44 They fall upon the sloping lawn, Where the holly berries glow, And the crimson gems look lovelier still In contrast with the snow. The sharp winds breathe on the evergreens, Till they tremble in the cold, — And now in a garment soft and hght Their sliining leaves enfold. And still the silent and spotless snow Descends in crystals white, Till the stony griiSns at the gates Are shrouded from my sight. I turn from without, and gaze within, Where all is warm and bright. And dear and lovely faces glow In the yule-log's ruddy light ; And the fire-light fitfully seems to smile On the fine old portraits there, Where hoUy and ivy lovingly twine Eound features noble and fair. And the joyful chime of the tuneful bells From the old church-tower rings out With a Christmas peal right merrily. Like a loud and j abilant shout. And sweet smiles answer my cheerful glance, And kind words greet my ear, TJtter'd by loved ones dear to me. And to whom I too am dear. But I suddenly start from my waking dream. And gaze round my lonely room. And my sorrowful spirit broods over the past As I sit in the twilight gloom. 45 WEEP NOT. Weep not for thy loved one whose form lies at rest, For the spirit now roams in tlie realms of the blest ; Thj tears may fast fall, and thy heart heave with sighs, But they cannot recaU the freed soul fi'om the skies ; Then, weep not — oh, mom*n not ! — thy lost one's above, In a beautiful land of glory and love. * I know it is bitter from loved ones to part, Who are dearer than life to the fond, faithful heart ; To watch the last glance faintly beam from the eye, To hear the last whisper grow weaker, and die. Though angels are wafting the spirit above, To a beautiful land of glory and love ; — Through a dim veil of tears the pale features to view. And mournfully murmur a long, last adieu ; To feel that the sad heart must sorrow alone, And yearn to bo join^ to the blest spirit flown ; — But that mortal is now an immortal above, In a beautiful land of glory and love. Though on earth the loved tones of that dear voice are o'er. Yet the sweet strains are heard on a happier shore, Where bright waving wings through the unfading bow'rs. Fan the fragrance that floats from the amaranth flow'rs ; WhUst the music of angels is thrilling each grove. In that beautiful land of glory and love. Thy lost one, made perfect, is join'd to that throng Wlio pour to the Highest their thanksgiving song ; Borne away from a world full of sorrow and care, A radiant region witli sera]ilis to share — Exchanging sad earth for the glad homo above. The beautiful land of glory and love. Oh ! there may ye meet, where no partings arc known, And liymn your loud praise to the One on the throne ! To God, your Creator, Redeemer, and King, Melodious lays tlu'ough eternity sing ! Then, weep not— oh, moiu-n not !— thy lost one's above, In a beautiful land of glory and love. 46 IT IS THE HOUR. It is the hour, but still his barque Floats not upon the stream ; The sun hath set, the sky grows dark, The day fades like a dream. Oh hasten to your Laura's bower. Ere night hath spread around It's solemn shade o'er tree and flower, And hush'd each gentle sound. The moonlight quivers on the stream ; The stars illume the sky ; The roses sleep in Cynthia's beam, Heedless of Zephyr's sigh ; — Yet still no sound steals o'er the lake, Save Philomel's sad song ; — But hark ! his boat for Laura's sake, Now gaily ghdes along. THE OCEAN AND THE SHOEE. The restless ocean murmurs to the shore His boastful song of mighty deeds perform'd ; He folds her in his tremulous embrace, And proudly brmgs his mingled trophies forth, As if he thus would win her smiles and love. She heedeth not his wooing words or gifts, But spurns him from her presence with disdain : Now foams he, fierce with rage, and greedily Withdraws his proffer' d treasures from her feet, And sweeps away with them to other shores. THE MEMOEY OF THE BEAVE. Like flow'rets broken in their op'ning bloom Are youthful warriors in their early tomb ; But like the perfume broken blossoms shed Is Glory's fragrance floating o'er the dead : Por deeds of heroes wreathe around each name A fadeless garland ever fresh with fame. 47 SPRINa. She comes ! — her eyes are twin forget-me-nots ; Her lips red rose-buds, sweet with honey-dew ; Her teeth pale hly-bells ; her bhishing cheeks Fair snowy roses, by carnations kiss'd ; Her brow a rich narcissus, purely white ; Her breath a wedded zephyr and a sweet, Her voice all melody, her look aU love. rA:RiE. If thou hast won a gi'eat and noble name, And Fame hath wreathed her garlands round thy brows, And with her sunny smiles now greets thy way, Rewarding thee for tedious years of toU, — Oh keep her laurels ever fresh and fair By actions worthy of thy efforts past, — Thy mind unsullied as a mountain-lake. Reflecting mirror-like her glorious light. LIKES WITH A WEEATH OF WILD FLOWEES. I HATE roam'd liir away this bright sunny day. And gather'd for thee fair flow'rs, Where the clear streams leap in then- channels deep, And dance through the jubilant hours. In the violet vale, where soft zephyrs sail, And the pure pale IQics unclose ; Where melody floats in the warblers' notes O'er the blushing and white wild rose. Wliere the woodbines bloom, and pour their perfume, And the rill sings its rippling song ; Where the bonnie blue-bell and the primrose dwell, And the busy bee buzzes along. The fairest of flow'rs I have cull'd from their bow'rs, And twined in a chaplct for thee; Through life's coming hours, in sunshine or show'rs. Oh ! let them remind thee of mc. 48 BY A EOSE-WEEATHED HAEP. Bt a rose-wreathed harp a lady sits, And wakens its golden strings ; While a moonbeam o'er her pale face flits, As with sorrowful voice she sings. The heart's pure pearls iUumine her eyes, — Twin violets fringed with rain ; And sad as a cloud-robed ev'ning's sighs Is her melancholy strain. Her rich voice quivereth like the leaves That tremble 'neath Autumn's breath ; And aU alone she gloomily grieves While the night-wind whispereth. The bright stars glance from their homes divine, And gaze in her teftrful eyes ; While the gems that o'er her dark robe shine, Are heaved by her bosom's sighs. From her pale, pale lips a requiem floats Like moans from a cypress-tree ; And the chords vibrate with answering notes. In quivering sympathy : — " Farewell, farewell, my beloved one ! Thou hast nobly, bravely died ; High is the fame our Land has won, With "Victory glorified. "But mingling in her exultant strain. There are wailings wide and deep. Long, loud laments for her brave sons slain, Who far fi'om her free shores sleep, " Through my Grrief-pierced heart gush Sorrow's streams, And my Happiness lies drown'd : For ever fled are the dazzhng dreams Hope's golden-hued light had crown'd." Her sad voice ceases its broken lay, And she droops her lovely head ; — As the harp's last murmur dies away. Her bosom's last sigh is shed. 49 THE BEAUTIFUL ISLE IN THE CEYSTALLINE LAKE. The beautiful Isle, with its trees and fair flowers, And blossoming carpet eternally gi'een, Its picturesque grottoes and musical bowers, Seems ever to me like some fairy-trod scene. When the bright beams of morning glance over my face, And from rainbow-wreatlied visions I suddenly wake. From my rose-mantled lattice each sweet scene I trace, Of the beautiful isle in the crystalline lake. When the sunset is shedding its crimsoning light, And valley, and mountain, and castle, and stream Are arrayed in its lustre transcendently bright. And glow in the glance of each glorious gleam ; While the dying day blushingly bi-eathes a fiirewell, 'As its smiles the old ivy-clad abbey forsake, I sail from the silent and flower-fraught dell To the beautiful isle in the crystalline lake. When the shadowy twilight succeeds the bright day. Mute, pensive, and solemn, yet dear to my view ; Wlien the flowei*3 droop gently in sadden'd array, And weep that the sunbeams should bid them adieu, While the ev'ning-star shines in the dark'ning dome, Alone in its beauty, the first to awake ; With an awe-in3jm*ed spirit, I ling'ringly roam O'er the beautiful isle in the crystalline lake. Wlien the sky-crowning stars of magniflcent night. Like silvery jewels strewn o'er the deep blue, Bespangle the vast vault with circles of light. And Cyntliia, their pale queen, uprises to view ; As her soft, lucent beams o'er the clear waters float, With a smile and a sigh the sweet spot I forsake, And o'er slumbering lilies return in my boat From the beautiful isle in the crystalline lake. THE SONG OF THE STREAM OF LIFE. " Steeam of Life, where art thou flowiug ? Whither wendest tliou thy way ? Why, oh why, so swiftly rolhng, Pausing not by night or day ? £ 50 " Moments, lightning-like flash by me. In an unremitting tlu'ong, Borne like bubbles on thy bosom, — Fragments that to time belong. " Hours and days and years are gliding In a quick succession by ; Now they fill my soul with gladness, And anon wake sorrow's sigh. " On thy banks are shells and pebbles. Gems of bright and varied hue ; Landmarks of om* brief existence, Fading quickly from the view. " Stream of life, oh stay thy current ! Let me grasp them ere they're past. And engrave upon their tablets Thoughts that shall for ages last. " Fain woiild I inscribe upon them Truths too glorious to die ; — Leave them there in star-like splendour, Wreathed with immortahty. — " So that unborn generations. Of Futurity a part, May peruse what has been written. To support the suikmg heart. " Profiting, may use their moments, And not idly flow along, Only gazing at the current. Only list'ning to its song. " Stream of Life, where art thou flowing ? Whither ai't thou hiu-rying me ? Tell me, what mysterious region-. Shall my wond'ring vision see ? " Is it one eternal summer, Is the sky for ever blue, In that undiscover'd covmtry That shall meet my longing view ? " Is the Sim for ever shining Upon fair and fadeless flovv'rs ? 51 Silv'ry streamlets gently gliding By the ever-vocal bow'rs ? " Are the breezes soft and balmy ? Are its valleys aye in bloom ? Oh will amaranthine blossoms Ever breathe their rich perfume ? " And do Happiness and Beauty Roam together, hand in hand ? Oh, are Death, and Sin, and Sorrow ^ All unknown in that bright land ?" Thus the Stream, with solemn whisper, Murmurs its response to me : — " I am flowing to the ocean Known as vast Eternity. "But, ere thou canst reach that ocean, Thou must pass through Death's dark stream ; At its yawniag brink we sever, Yet despair not, Ilope will beam ; — " Like a golden star of beauty Pierce the cloud-enveloped sky ; Whilst fair Faith, her sister-spirit. Smiles to greet thy gladden'd eye, — " With unfolded droopless pinions. And her arms around thee cast, Whispers sweetest words of solace Till the stonny waves be past." " Stream of Life, oh what awaits me When Death's gloomy wave is cross'd. And my soul, in awe and wonder, On Eternity is toss'd?" "Search the Book of Inspiration, It will truly answer thee ; To its dictates ever listen. And tliy path tlien plainly see. " Live as if to-morrow rising. Would bcliold thy soul-freed foym ; Live for Ileav'n's eternal haven. After Life'i tumultuous storm. 52 " Tliou wilt find me brief and fleeting, Eor to vast Eternity Life is but a bursting bubble On a soundless, shoreless sea. "Wisely, then, employ each moment; Be not lost amid the throng ; Higher still be aye thy motto, Truth and Hope pervade thy song. " Soar aloft on eagle pinions ; Scale the heights, the deep depths sound ; Search with eager soul and longing Till thou hast true Wisdom found. "If endow' d by God with talents, Waste them not, they're only lent ; And thy soul must render answer How those talents have been spent. " While I speak, and thou art list'ning. Still I'm bearing thee along ; And the throbbings of thy bosom, And the murmiu^ of my song " Still are less'ning, ever less'ning : Snatch the moments as they fly ; Wisely write, for Truth wiU flomish Like the stars in yonder sky. " O'er the wakeless Past lament not ; Seize the Present, it is thine ; Yearn not for the secret Future, Wait not for its light to shine. " Work with sanction high and holy ; Keep the great award in view : Let thy purpose be exalted. And thy actions strong and true. " Live not for thyself, O mortal ! Do an angel's work on earth ; Ever scatter words of kindness. Seeds that bring sweet joy to birth. •' Words of truth, when kindly spoken, Are far richer than fine gold, 53 Brighter than the pearls of ocean Dearer than a love untold. " Earth is full of sin and sorrow, And her sobbings never cease ; Since the shadow fcU on Eden, Man's deep cry hath been for peace. " Happiness is ne'er abiding : 'Mid the flow'rs that strew thy way Piercing thorns are uitermingled, As with blossoms of the May. " Chase the shadow from some pathway. Pluck the sharp thorns from the flowers, And a blessing shall attend thee, And true glory gild thine hours. " Heav'n will sliine with smiles upon thee, And thy deeds of love shall glow On imperishable tablets, Whiter than unsuUied snow. " And when thou art call'd to judgment, 'Mid the scenes with glories rife, May'st thou find thy name is written In the unseal' d Book of Life. " Of this mystic song the lesson Heed, and be for ever blest : Fill thy Time witli godly action ; Wait Eternity for rest." BEAUTIFUL EOSES. Beautiful roses, sweet summer roses, Upon you the moonlight in slumber reposes. Illuming your tears till they glisten like gems That gracefully glitter in grand diadems ; While Zeypliyrus wooingly breathes a soft sigh, And the light-shedding stars, tlie flow'rs of the sky, Beam on eacli bud tliat in splendour uncloses — Beautiful roses, sweet summer roses ! The nightingale loves you, and warbles a lay; While the fountain's low music floats faintly away, 54 And the lucent drops lustrously rise in the air, Then fall in a starry-wreathed coronal fair, And tremble like tears upon cheeks bright with bloom ; And the pure pearls are steep' d in delicious perfume, As each hyaline orb on youi- flush' d leaves reposes, — Beautiful roses, sweet summer roses ! Ye are lovely and bright in the sun's golden gaze. And lovely and fair in the moon's silver rays ; Lovely and sweet when the musical shower With a crystalline crown encircles each flower, — When your ruby lips open and sip the rich rain. As the balmy breeze murmurs its amorous strain, And with wliispering kisses each leaflet uncloses, — Beautiful roses, sweet summer roses ! Like all that is fairest, ye droop, fade, and die, And Zephyr laments ye with many a sigh ; But yoiu- fragrance survives, though the freshness is dead ; Andyour soft leaves are prized, tho' yoin- young life hath fled j For fondly ye're gather' d with maidenhood's sighs. And press'd to the lips, while the lustre-fiU'd eyes Beam bright with a tear that in glory reposes, — Beautiful roses, sweet summer roses ! Preserved 'tween the leaves of some dearly-loved book, Oh, oft are ye blest with a sweet smiling look : And oft are ye bathed with the sad heart's warm tears, As Memory pictures the scenes of past years ; Oh, then ye were blooming, and rich odours shed, But now ye lie wither'd like hopes that are dead. What scenes ye portray, as each fair leaf uncloses, — Beautiful roses, sweet simimer roses ! TO Claeissa dear, my well-beloved one, The only star that gems my firmament, — My all on earth, — the one sweet lovely flower That beautifies the garden of my life, — My faithful heart o'erflows with love for thee ; My Ufe is one unchanging dream of thee ; Wliere'er I turn I see thy angel-face — Alas! I see it but in fancy's view ! 55 And when kind slumber folds me in her arms, Stilling the restless tumult of my breast, Still, still I dream of thee— and wake to weep. I know that I am nothing uuto thee. Yet thou art more than all the world to me : In happiness and woe, in lile and death, Unchangeable my love will e'er remain. Although my heart is breaking with its grief, Its spirit- weighing load of agony, I still will love tliee,— though that love be crown'd With the unbroken sleep of solemn death. Clarissa, dear Clarissa, can it be That thou hast quite forgot those bUssful hom-s. When soul held converse with familiar soul. When heart to heart responded, and thy lips — Breathed, like to fragrant flow'rs, thy inmost thoughts ? Methinks I see thee now as thou wert then. Thy bright eyes beaming on my smiling face. Thy warm hand fondly clasp' d within my own, Wliilst, trembling with my love, I gazed on thee. WiU those sweet moments never more retivm ? Oh, am I left alone— all, all alone ! Without thee earth is a wild barren waste — A moonless, starless, cloud-robed wintry night ; But with thee earth would be a paradise. By the unutterable agony That fills my tortured soul, and by the tears, The sorrow-laden tears, that dim mine eyes. Let me once more behold thy lovely face — But once more hear the music of thy voice — But once more feel the pressure of thy hand. E'en if my spirit were to wing its flight, O'er-fill'd with gladness, to the unseen world ! Throw off' the sombre veil tliat shrouds my soul. Uplift the heavy burden from my heart, Ere the last quiv'ring chord be snapp'd in twain ! LADY ! I THINK OF THEE. I THINK of thee when morning beams On nature's lovely face. And its bright smiles from woods and streams The shades of darkness chase. When the lark heav'nward wings his flight, Witli gusliing melody Swcel'ning his path of golden light. Lady I 1 tliiiik of Ihce. 56 I think of thee at sunset's hour, When many a crimson ray Streams through the roses'-flushing bow'r. Where sparkUng fountains play. When day's orb, gazing an adieu, Streaks river, land, and sea, With sheen of gold and roseate hue, Lady ! I think of thee. I think of thee when yon blue sky Is geram'd with diamonds bright ; When moon and stars resplendently Show'r lustre o'er the night. While pearl-wreathed fiowers, with drooping eyes. Their heads hang bashfully To wooing Zephyr's plaintive sighs, Lady ! I think of thee. GRIEF. I'm sitting alone in the twihght, And yet not all alone. For a shadowy form is with me, Who claims me as her own. And to me she hath long been wedded. Although my years are few ; And the golden dawn of manhood Comes clouded to my view. And wherever my footsteps wander She is gliding by my side ; Oh, truly faithful and constant. Is my ever-mournful bride ! Her care-worn face is sad and pale As the marble face of the dead ; Her eyes with bitter tears o'erflow. And she ever droops her head. Her fragile form e'er trembles and bends With the anguish of her heart. And her bosom heaves with ceaseless sobs^ That will never more depart. 57 The name of my mournful bride is Grief, And I fold her to my breast, While her warm tears mingle with my own, As her cheek to mine is press'd. Throughout the day and throughout the uiglit She is ever folded there ; And I ever feel her bosom's sighs, And her sorrows ever share. THE VASE. The vase is perfumed, Though the sweet rose lies dead; "With the exquisite odour It sighingly shed. Oh, gently 'twas gather'd From Pliilomel's bower, O'er the gorgeous apartment Its fi'agrance to shower. With loveliness beaming, It bloom'd for awhile ; And surrounded with beauty, How could it but smile ! But soon was it drooping, And pined for its home, A garden where zephyrs Refreshingly roam. As the bright sun was setting It breathed its last sigh, Then sank in the water To wither and die. But the vase is perfumed, Tliough the sweet rose lies dead; With the exquisite odour It sighingly slied. 58 THE SABBATH IN THE COUNTRY. O Day most calm, most bright, The fruit of this, the next world's bud ; Th' endorsement of supreme delight AVrit by a Friend, and with His blood ; The couch of Time, Care's balra aud bay ; The week were dark but for thy light. Thy torch doth shew the way. Geo. Herbert, CHAPTEE I. THE DAWN OF THE SABBATH. The sun has just arisen from his cloud-curtained couch behind the gray hills that skirt the extreme horizon, and his resplendent beams have chased away the shadows of night from the lovely vaUey of Flowergrove. Lingeringly they de- parted, as if unwilling to release the fair vale from the cheerless embrace of their gloomy wings. One by one the glowing lamps of night disappear from the brightening sky, their now pallid forms scarcely discernible in the rosy flusli of the mom. The joyous lark, " rising from his grassy bed," soars aloft in tlie pure fresh atmospliere, to pour forth his thrilling lays of welcome to the gorgeous sun : a single speck he ap- pears as he mounts to the dappled sky, sweetening his aerial path with grateful showers of more than terrestrial melody. The cheering beams of the advancing sun unfold the dew- wi-eathed leaves of the youthful flowers, arousing them from tiieir breeze-rocked slumber, and disclosing the varied and un- equalled charms of their awakening beauty. And the sweet flowers as they seem to open their bright eyes to the glad light of day, lovingly smde their blushing thanks to the golden orb for his tender care of them. It is the fair month of May, and the hawthorn's white virgin blossoms unpregnate the breeze with their pure aroma, as it passes over the flourishing fields, communicating a gentle undulating motion to the flowers, which seem like censers exhaling their i-ich perfume. The golden cowslip, the odo- riferous violet, the modest primrose, the deep-hued bluebell, with innumerable companions, are shedding their incense to the God of the Sabbath. The blue sky is painted with a few fleecy, motionless clouds, purely white as seraphs' wings, except where crimson-tinged by the rays of the sun. And far beyond those clouds, thousands and tens of thousands of angels, with crowns of glory sparkhng on their immortal brows, wing their rapturous flight in the abode of in- eflable bliss, tuning their golden harps to everlasting songs of 59 praise to the Lamb— to Him who died on Calvary's cross tliat erring man might enjoy eternal life — who trampled on death, and conquering earth's mightiest conqueror, arose from the tomb, and ascended in all His Divine glory to the celestial home that He had left, there continually to plead for our sin- ful race. Oh, what joy to know that om* sins can be waslied away in Jesu's blood ! — to know that we may mingle with that happy throng ! — that the door of salvation is opened through wliich we may enter the mansions in His Father's kingdom that He has prepared for us ! Oh, inexpressible rapture to know that we may wear a glorious crown, be clothed in the garments of unmortality, and help to swell the everlasting song of glory, honour, praise, and power to Him who reigneth for ever and ever ! CHAPTEE II. THE SABBATH. It is the sacred Sabbath-day— the holy day of worship and of rest ; rest for the wearied body, worship for the never- dying soul. The labours of the week are over, and man arises with a lighter heart f for to him this is the happiest day of the week ; he has not to leave his home for his accustomed toil, and he feels an elevating joy in thinking that throughout tliis divinely blessed day he will bo with his dear wife and ciiildren, Hsten to the "^beloved tones of his partner's voice, and hear the sweet prattle of their offspring ; and better far than all, that they will together repair to the house of God, and join in adoring their Creator. Oh holy day, beloved Sabbath ! thy return is ever welcomed with a prayer of thank- fulness, and thou flndest the homes in whicli thou enterest smiling a welcome on thy approach. Tlie flowers seem to yield a sweeter perfume in thy jjresence, and nature to assume her loveliest garb. Thou husjiest the voice of labour, causing a deep stillness, a calm serenity, to fill the prayerful eartli. There are no discordant sounds to break the sweet quiet that reigns around — nought save Nature's ceaseless voices that fill with gushes of melody the awe-inspiring silence — fhe buzzing of a bee— tlie flight of a bird— a warbler's song— the rippling of the rill, the gurgling brook, and the rustling of the leaves ; — these arc the sounds that are swi-eter than utter si- lence — this is the music that greets thee, oh lovely Sabbath- day ! Oil for an angel's harp to sound thy praises! Oh for a seraph's voi<;e to speak thy blessings! Tlie sonjjs of earth are not for thee, but the songs of heavc^n, thai iiurify the heart from temporal thouglUsand fill the soul with spu-itual hojjes. On God's holy day, who can say how many songs of praiso, 60 and how many prayers of thankfulness and supplica- tion float upward to Jehovah's throne. Were it not for the Sabbath, earth would be without one presage of future, eternal rest ; but with it earth becomes a foretaste of heaven, a foreshadowing of that blissful home where it is one unceasing Sabbath. Its reign is universal — o'er the crowded city and the quiet hamlet, the palace and the cot ; and monarch and peasant equally honour its approach. The man of business casts aside his worldly cares ; the wheels of machinery are still ; the busy mart is deserted ; for it is the Sabbath-day. Oh come with me into yonder rose-mantled cot, and gaze upon the life-picture within ! The father with the large old family Bible on his knees, is reading precious passages from that holy Book ; — look at the devout expres- sion of the countenances that are grouped around him, eagerly listening to the truthful words he is so solemnly uttering; and those words of consolation and promise irradiate their hearts withcelestiallightjUntilthey overflow with love and thankfulness to their Creator. The mother holds the infant in her arms, and his prattle is hushed, while liis bright eyes are intently fixed upon his father's face, as if wondering why tliat silence, and what are the words that his parent's voice is so earnestly pom'ing forth. If thy life be spared, oh thou immortal mor- tal who hast just planted thy footsteps upon the threshold of existence, thou too, I hope, wilt read that holy Book, attend to its counsels, and feel, as thy forefathers have felt, the bless- ings of the Bible and the Sabbath. CHAPTER III. THE VALE OF PLOWERaROVE. The vale of Flowergrove appears a paradise on earth, it is so sweetly beautiful. It is surrounded by lofty hiUs, whose sum- mits tower toward the clouds in their imposing grandeur. Upon those flower-dotted hiUs numerous herds of cattle browse, indicating the wealth of those that dwell in the old homesteads below. The picturesque farm-houses are almost hidden from the view by the majestic trees with which they are surrounded, and never doth a Sabbath dawn upon a loveHer spot than that quiet hamlet. Each cottager has his garden-plot, and they seem to vie with each other in loveliness and beauty ; all the varied flowers of tlie Spring blossom there, and perfume the breezes that roam through that Elysian scene. Through the vale a sQvery rivulet pours its ceaseless rip- plings, that joyously blend in delightful unison ; and on either side lofty elm-trees spread forth to each other their mighty branches, forming a leafy canopy among whose boughs 61 the song-birds carol their lays, and make the smiling valley ring with melody. The sunbeams brightly glance through the quiveiing leaves, and play upon the sparkling rivulet, whose banks are fringed with flowers. The distant tinkle of the sheep-bell floats upon the air, like a strain of music to those happy dwellings, whence the villagers in groups are issuing. Childliood, youth, manhood, and old age are wending their way to the village church. There is the child of few- years, whose Httle hand is clasped in that of the sire's, who is gazing with a parent's fondness upon the upturned sunny face. There is the youth, escorthig the maiden to the house of prayer, and vei'y happy are they in each other's society. There are the father and mother, smilingly watching their children wandering over the same spots where they wandered many years since, when they, too, were just starting upon the voyage of life, and saw not the foreshado wings of the storms that at times cloud every one's existence. The aged slowly totter along, supported by their grandchildren, feeling a grateful joy that they are still able to go and hsten to the familiar voice of tlieir beloved pastor. And thus, blending in one happy stream, conversing upon holy tilings, and filled with holy thoughts, they enter the village churchyard. CHAPTEE IV. THE CHUECHYAED. They enter, the solemn receptacle of the dead, where " Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." Around them lie the graves of many dear departed friends ; the infant torn from its mother's bosom by the relentless hand of death, and laid witliin the cold ground ; the husband and wife, the sister and brother, wecpingly separated — one to go through the " dark valley of the shadow of death," the other left behind to mourn for tlicir departure ; lovers torn asun- der — and who can describe tlie anguish of the heart when the one on whom all the afiections are placed lies an inanimate mass of clay before the view, the tongue's sweet music forever hushed, the eyes' bright light for ever quenched, and the faith- ful heart, that beat with such deep, warm love for us, cold and still at the icy touch of death ? To know that we may never more hear the tlirilhiig tones of that welcome voice, and never more feel the fond pressure of tlie hanrl ; to see the loved one enclosed from our weeping gaze, and borne hi tear- ful silence to the greedy grave ; and there hear the sadly solemn and beautiful words pronounced, " Earth to earth, 62 ashes to ashes, dust to dust," and behold the object of our afl'ectiou liidden for ever from our weeping eyes ; — oh, scene of inexpressible anguish ! Life suddenly becomes devoid of every charm ; a sombre shadow darkens all the sunshine, and we wish that we too could die, and be laid by the side of the one we have loved so well. But it is the clay alone that rests in the sod — the spirit hath returned unto Grod who gave it : and while we are bewailing the lost one's departure, it may be that that happy spirit is joining in the harmonies of heaven. Oh, wish not a spirit back again, when you know that it quit- ted earth in the full assurance of a supremely happy life here- after ! Oh, regret not its flight from this vale of tears, for it is gone to a home where sorrow can never enter, and where all tears are wiped away from the glory -brightened eyes ! Live thy allotted time on earth — live so that when thy body goeth down into the tomb, thy spirit may meet the one that is gone before, and be its bhssful companion in a land where pai'tings are unknown. As the villagers wander over the paths of the quiet church- yard, tliose grassy hillocks cause many a sigh to be heaved, and many a tear-drop glitters in the eyes of that company. Has yonder hoary-headed old man lost his partner, and is that her grave over which he is bending, and upon which a teardrop faDs ? Oh, dry tliy tears thou aged M^eeper ! thou hast liv.ed more than man's allotted years upon eartli, and, perchance before many more suns shall have set behind yon- der hills, thou wilt meet thy loved ones in that land whither thy thoughts so often wander. On that small hillock, where the grass has scarcely covered the newly-raised mound, a young mother gazes with a mournfid countenance through fast-falling tears : beneath that heap of earth her first-born slumbers : he sleeps the icy sleep of death — his childish prat- tle for ever hushed, and his sparkling eyes finally closed : but his young spirit hath returned to his Creator. Then why, oh ! why art thou disconsolate, thou mourning parent ? Happy, thrice happy shoiddst thou be, to know that thy child is kind- ly taken from a world of sorrow and of woe, and hath found a home in his Saviour's bosom ! Wouldst thou rather he had lived, and drunk deeply of the bitter waters of hfe — have struggled with the world, and prayed, in the depth of agony for death ? He is gone before thee, but thou canst follow him, and the path will be aU the brighter to thee as thy beloved one hath trodden it ; although it is very hard to lose the one in whom such great affection is centred, yet a bright ray of happiness will ii-radiate the gloom, to know that he died before he became contaminated by the world. Then wipe those tears away, oh, thou sorrow-laden one ! for is not heaven far better than earth ? 63 CHAPTKK V. THE CHURCH. The house of prayer is entered, the last straggler has taken his scat ; each heart seeks a blessing from the Father of mer- cies, and each eye is turned towards tlie pastor. Wliat a holy solemnity steals over the soul wliile we are in the house of Grod ; we seem to feel His Presence ! How many genera- tions have been successively seated in this church, listening to the words of holy Writ ! How many ministers have suc- ceeded each other in that pulpit ! So generation after generation passes away ; and we, too, shall go when oiu- time arrives, and the place that knows us now shall know us no more for ever. Others will take our place, and sit in the same seats, and hsten to the same words, butfcom another pastor's lips. Even the lord of the manor, who is seated in liis crim- son-velvet-cushioned pew, he, — with all his hereditaiy titles, — must follow his forefathers. Kot all the splendour that surrounds him, not all the wealth that he possesses, will bribe the stem angel of Deatli, who makes no distinction between the peer and the peasant ; both must yield to liis impartial sway. How awe-inspiring are the marble effigies of the ancestors of that noble ! Those time-worn tablets record their glorious deeds, and form conspicuous ornaments to the church; they lling,as it were, a mantle of antiquity over the walls, robing them with magnificence. There, at the foot of the altar, how many have been miited by that Jioly bond which death alone can sunder. The noble lady and tlie poor cottage-girl, the aristocrat and the peasant have there alike vowed to love and cherish those who knelt by their side. And so Time rolls on, but at last it will drop into the unfathomable abyss of Eternity. Then will the graves give up their dead, and from the peaceful village and the busy city, from the deep-rolling ocean and the wide-spread desert, the blest shall soar upon angel-pinions to enter upon their eternal happiness, and for ever live in that blissful realm wliere there is no more marrying or giving in marriage, but where all meet in universal love and holy com- panionship. List to the organ's swelUng notes, pealing like angel-melodies tliroughout the sacred building. And now the congregation simultaneously rise to blend their voices in that liyinu of praise and prayer to God ; and those word-s of adoration will be borne by ministering spirits upward to the realms above, and mingle in the harmonies of heaven. Now the organ's majestic tones almost drown the silvery voioea of the village choir, anon the magnificout music sinks into a soft, sweet melody, and the chorus of praise, gushing from many a happy heart, is distinctly heard. In a loftier strain tlie parting words are poured forth, and a hush so calm, so still, su^cceeds those echoing notes, it seems as if some in- visible and noiseless influence had stricken all that congrega- tion with the solemn stillness of death. Now the minister offers a jDrayer to the Grod of the Sabbath, and his gentle yet impressive voice tin-ills every breast within those walls. He asks a blessing upon all, with a thanksgiving for mercies past, and with tearful earnestness implores guardianship for the future. And now the Lord's Prayer slowly issues from his lips, and each voice witliin the sacred edifice joins in uttering that beautiful prayer, the last words die away, and he commences his sermon. CHAPTER VI. THE PASTOR. Gaze upon that noble countenance, beaming with love; look upon that higli, expansive brow, crowned with snowy locks ! He is one of the truthfid followers of his divine Master ; his life is an embodiment of his speech. He is filled with love for God, and for his fellow-men ; his unostentatious deeds shew the affection of his heart ; few worldly thoughts make their abode there, for it is so full of heavenly hopes that it despises the things of earth. He preaches " Jesus Christ and Him cru- cified ;" he rails not at this or that religion ; he wearies not his hearers with theological discussion, he excites not their imagination with the flowers of eloquence, but simply leads them to " the Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world." What breathless stillness pervades that solemn as- sembly as he reveals the love of God ! How earnestly every eye is fixed upon liis countenance, and how attentive is every ear to his words, as he points out the way by which they can enter heaven ! How admirably he delineates the Chi-istian character, and how kindly he tells them how they ought to live, so that they may join those who have passed from earth to immortality! He warns youth of the rocks of life, and ex^Dlains how they can be escaped ; and he speaks to the aged Christian of the glories with which he shall soon become ac- quainted. He describes the life of Christ, and attempts to portray His sufferings for smful man ; tells of the Saviour's boundless love for the fallen race, and how they may become reconciled to God. He closes his discourse by exhorting the unbeliever to come to the Redeemer, and fhad peace — hap- piness whilst on earth, and eternal bliss beyond the grave. He implores those who have found that peace, to still keep 65 stedfast, never wavering, but increasing in holiness and love to Grod ; and then with a prayer the service closes. How many happy groups linger on their homeward way, to catch his smile, and listen to his beloved voice ; and it seems as if the sun had suddenly become clouded when the parsonage veils him from their siglit. Over the flowery fields the children ramble, while their pa- rents are conversing on what they have heard, which will form the theme of conversation with the aged, who are too infirm to attend the service in the after-part of the day. But in their happy homes will they peruse the dearly-beloved old Bible, and ponder over those passages upon which the minis- ter particularly dwelt ; and if their sight is too dim to dis- tinguish the letters, their grand-children will cheerfully read to them. It is the noon. How still, how calm is a Sabbath noon! Nature seems wrapt in silent prayer. The cattle lie rumina- ting upon the green-sward ; and on the boundless blue dome —upon the lovely veil of heaven, the fleecy cloudlets lie in picturesque beauty. Silence seems to hold a universal reign, all is so sweetly still. . CHAPTEE VII. THE CLOSE OF THE SABBATH. The sun is setting in glorious beauty, slowly sinking behind the crimson-tinged hills. TJiis smiling Sabbath is drawing to a close, and Nature arrays herself in all her loveliness to bid farewell to the holy day. The glowing west is streaked with deepest colours, blending in one resplendent picture. Earth's beaming face is blushing with rosy light sti'caming from the farewell glance of the setting sun, who is de])arting to shed his lustre upon other chmes. A solitary bird j)()urs his last notes to the fading day — the honey-laden bee buzzes itshonuv ward flight to its well-stored hive — the graceful deer rustle the bushes as they pass to drink of the peUueid waters of the lake. And now every sound is hushed, save the monotonous gurgling of some little brook, as it pursues its onward coui'se. through the fragrant meadows and the shady dells, or the gen- tle whispering of the leaves, fanned into motion by the breath of even. The sky is one expanse of clear blue, except in (he western liorizon, whither the snowy clouds have floated ; and as they approaeh the setting sun, tliey become steeped in myriad dyes, and robe the rugged mountain-tops witli criiiisoii drapery. The last gorgeous rays w!ii
  • His pale face shineth with celestial light, Fore-splendoiu'ing a glory yet to come : ■87 ■Gkaius of the sunlight of another sphere 'Fall oil his brow, and glorify his soul ; Tliese gild his mystic path to other worlds, Where neither sun declines, nor day withdraws, — Where God shall be his everlastmg Light, The Orb of cloudless and unsetting Day. Day with his radiant garb of light hath sunk Into Eternity's mysterious tomb, Adding another link to that vast chain .That shall be finish'd at the judgment-day. Oh mighty Time ! from thy grand diadem, Another gem, like a bright star, hath dropp'd, To give a grander lustre to the blaze Reflected from the jewels thou hast lost ; The unrcturning hours, days, months, and years ■ Claim'd by the all-absorbing conqueror, The unpourtrayable, the unreveal'd. The soiemn, infinite Eternity. Time proudly stands upon a pedestal 'Composed of balls known unto man as days : 'On the high summit of that mount Time wields His regal sceptre; — at its wide base yawns A gulf more sombre than a cloud-robed night ; E'en not a single sohtary ray Pierces the solemn darkness brooding there ; — That deep black cliasm is Eternity : And as the west throws open its bright gates To welcome home the slow-returning sun ; Oft as that royal orb in splendour sets, One of those balls that form the throne of Time Sinks in that gulf, never to rise again. Day rolls on day, and when the last is gone. Then thou who sway'st thy scepti-c o'er the earth, To whom all bend, and own thy majesty ; ■"Whose impress meets our view where'er we roam. Whose touch can change tiio aspect of a world, — Change blooming beauty into witlier'd age ; K'cn thou, oh mighty Time ! shalt fall and sink Lower and lower still ; while dying Death, With the last effort of declining atrengtii Shall hurl his sole remaining dart at thee. And gladly die when he beholds thee dead, — Lying amid the ruins of thy tlirone ; While bright Eternity, with crown complete, (Whose jewels once encircled thy fair brow,) .At the archangel's dcad-awakcuing trump, 88 With giaut strength shall burst the bonds of sleepj, Grandly up-rising like a new-born god, Thought-fired, elated, on life-beaming wings. Mounts up in triiunph o'er a burning world, Up tlu-ough the angel-tlu'ong'd and song-fill'd air. To hold his universal endless reign. Time and Eternity, most solemn words, FuU to o'erflowing with unfathom'd depths Of mightiest meaning, indescribable. Pregnant with mystic thought which finite mind Can never grasp, or hmnan tongue explain ! How close they ai-e, and yet how separate ! Placed in comparison, how brief is Time — A single drop from the stupendous tide Of its unsounded, shoreless, waveless sea — A bm-sting bubble on its boimdless breast ; — A single star out-fading from the sky; — A dewdrop in the splendours of the sun ; — Brief prelude of a never-ending lay ; The childhood of an endless life — the school Where for the great Hereafter we prepare, The dim foreshadowing of another life, — That Life the infinite Eternity, — Ages to ages join'd, without an end. Uninterrupted — with no first, no last. No alpha, no omega ; — mystery all ! The golden morning of the night of Time ; The haven after Life's tumultuous storm ; The wanderer's home, — the calm, eternal rest j After Life's battle the grand victory ; The Cliri^tian warrior's rewarding crown ; The patient lab'rer's golden harvest-time ; The gracious recompense for deeds of love ; The interest for the talents our kind God Hath now endow'd us with. Oh mortal man ! Thy deathless soul must render an account How thou hast spent thy ev'ry talent here ! Oh aye remember they are not thine own ! Thy God has only lent them unto thee : — Then use them wisely — use them gratefully— Use them in giving glory to His name ; Shed happiness witliin thy brother's soul. And cheer him in the battle-field of life ! Oh guide his ei'ring steps, and point the way That leads to glorious immortality ! — 89 Eternity ! age of the Living God ! Thought slirink9 abash' d within its little self. As it contemplates thy dread majesty ! — A trembUng shadow faUing at thy base, Thou grand, sublime, cloud-cleaving pyramid. Portentous my steiy, what dost thou conceal ? Impenetrable veil withdraw awhile — Of the hereafter give me now a glimpse ! Oh mighty mountain move, divide, disclose The scenes that lie beyond the range of time ! A wall of mysteries encii'cles thee. Impassable but by the gate of death, — A solemn gate, guarded by Life's dark foe ; A sacred barrier which separates The stream of Time from the eternal deep, — Till that day comes when Time shall cease to flow, And tributary days and years to run, — All merging in one boundless ocean-flood, — And centuries shall, star-like, fade away Before the blaze of an unending day. ***** The bending flow'rs are crown'd with dewy peai-ls, — Nature's tiaras of refulgent gems, Wreathi^^g around sweet Flora's glowing gifts, Translucent garlands of fair diamonds. The sad breeze sighs a melaiieholy song Among the boughs with blossoms cluster'd o'er, Sorrowing for the sunny smiles of Day. The sombre Twilight, in her shadowy robe. Like a pale spectre glidinii' from the tomb. Steals noiselessly across the dark'ning blue To the still, solemn chamber of the West, Where Day lies sleeping in the arms of Death. Awhile she pauses with averted eyes, Then, sighing, summons up her fading strength. And sadly gazes on his lovely corse. Her dark cheeks glisten witli fast-falling tears. That drop in quick succession on his form. Slowly she stoops, and with pale, trembling lips Doth gently kiss each wound ; with mom-nful voice, Broken by many sobs of bitter grief, She softly whisptsrs o"er him lier himent : — "And thou, the Buniiug and the Strong, art dead — Tliou wlio hast bnniglit sucli loveliness to birth ; The beautillcr of a mighty world. Now in deep sorrow mourning for its loss. The flow'rs arc weeping, and their lovely heads 90 Are tremblingly liuiig down in gloomy grief; Each blade of grass and every leaf is bright With tear-drops for thee. Even Zephyr sighs A gentle requiem as it floats along, Sloving fche trees to whisper their lament. Earth sorrows for thee ; her once smiling face Grows melancholy to behold thee dead. But more than all I mourn for thee, dear Day! How bright, how fair, and fidl of life thou wert ; How sad, how pale and motionless thou art ! Oh, I will fondly fold thee in my shroud. And closely clasp thee to this achfiig heart, That soon will cease to beat. I too must die, And solemn Night will lay us in one grave. There our ancestors sleep, — there we must sleep In the vast tomb on which is written Past. And our successors too must follovr us. The Present there must join us, and be like What thou art now, and what I soon shall be. Incomprehensible Futm-lty Is ever giving birth to things to come, Yet they and she must all succumb to Time, And Time must bend unto Eternity, And that be governed by Infinity. ^ How cold thou art, oli Day ! that wert so warm : Tliy icjness hath chiU'd me, and I feel That I am growing like thee. To my breast I clasp thee closer, and on thy pale lips I fondly press my own, — thus, thus I'll die. And feel a sad sweet joy ui death hke tliis. Thou shalt not go to the dark tomb alone ; In death thou shalt not be companionless. Although thou wert through life. I come — I come- Life steals away, and Azraiil appears. Death's arrow comes — I see — I feel its flight." Her trembling voice hath ceased its gentle moans. Dying away in faintest murmurings ; And Twilight sleeps the everlasting sleep Of dreamless death upon the corse of Day. One solitary star begems the sky, To herald the approach of solemn Night ; And then another and another cctaes, Successively emerging out of space, Like warriors when forming in array. Clad in sublimest splendour lo ! she comes. The beauty-laden empress, thoughtful Night ; The moon her crown, the stars her diamonds. 91 Slowly and royally she wends her way, To reign in silence o'er a silent world. Oh what u brilliant pageantry 6he brings ! She strews with grandeur vast infinity, And firmly stamps her seal upon the skies While bright and brighter still the impress glows Gloriously beautifid, deeply sublime. She over Day hath been victorious, And like a proud, spoil-laden conqueror, Divinely treads the starry fields of hcav'u, — Her beamuig form majestic as a god ; Hpr dark robes sparkling witii refulgent gems. Beauty and might magnificently form A wreath of glory round her regal brow ; Her silver lamps illume the azure sky, — Tlie sacred screen dividing heav'n and earth : Above is blessedness, which finite mind Can ne'er conceive, nor human language tdll. E'en an archangel's voice could ne'er proclaim The glory unreveal'd, but now reserved For those whom Christ hath with His blood redeem'd. Oh none but lie, theii" author, can reveal Those joys unseen, unheard, and unconceived. That now nwi«it the cartli-freed soul above. Bcneatli that lloor of heav'n pale sorrow dwells, Making its home in many a darken'd lioart ; From many an eye the teardrops trickle down, And bosoms heave with agonizing throes ; Tlie cheek is wan with care, — the throbbing brow Is clouded with its gritf, the countenance Iraprcss'd with traces of despondency. Anguish anil trial, solicitude and sin, Claim a vast portion of tlie world tliat lies Beneath yon glorious roof— but, oh! beyond, Far, far above, reign purity and rest ! The boundless dome of blue,— tiic cloudless sky, Is gUst'nhig with its myriad gems of light, Briglit jewels strewn ujjon a wavelcss sea, As were they eyes of sera])li-8entinels. Keeping their silent and unceasing watch Over a world wrajit in its midnight sleep. Their penetrating glances pierce the veil. And fiood with lustre the unconscious earth : And I liavo tiiought, wlieu raiiidr()|is fell at night, Those ungels saw such sin and ]'uiii below. That tears bcdimm'd the lustre of their eyes, And fell in limpid show'rs on sorrowing earth. 92 Ob glorious stars, the sky's undying flow'rs, Teachers of immortahty to man, The faint reflections of the hght of lieav'n ! How calmly beautiful art thou, oh Night, In modesty, and grace, and loveliness ! — Fairer than thine own daughter, gentle Sleep, And all the visionary jjrogeny Of joyous dreams that claim descent from thee, — A sweeter, softer, ]3urer thing than Day, Seeming to bring Grod's creatures nearer heav'n. Like a dim picture of a long-lost home. Thy regal loveliness surpasses all That ever flash'd on the enraptured mind, When lost in thought or fancy's highest flight Upon midrooping wings to mystic worlds ; Or fairest visions rich with golden light, When sleep hath clasp'd the form in its soft arms. And folded it witliin its calm embrace. With gentle whisperings of soothing words ; As the heart clasps the image it adores, And folds it up in its absorbimg love, With secret vows, affectionate and strong. Oh Night ! thou'rt glorious as a dream of heav'n ; Thou far excellest grandest works of art ; Richer tlian all the kingdoms of the world ; More beautiful, witli all thy myriad charms. Than all the varied loveliness of earth ; More inexpressibly wonderful Than all tlie wonders of the world combined. Thy noble form, in queenly majesty. Is more majestic than the noblest fonn Reflecting beauty on th' admiring world : Sublimity, grace, might, and loveliness Are deeply stamp' d in glowing characters Upon thy royal brow, and brightly beam In awe-inspiring splendour from thine eyes ; And tliose transcendent orbs with gi-andeur gleam. Magnificence out-shining aU the gems That glow with lustre in Golconda's mines ; Tlieir rays of fire strike with full thrilling power, And dazzle e'en imagination's gaze. Thy matchless face is impourtrayable. So varying are the beauties floating there ; 'Tis rich with every loveliness, as Spring With fragrant flow'rs and vdth melodious songs. Beauty on thee hath poured her richest sliow'rs, Steep'd thee within her marble rose-wreathed urns, 93 O'erllowing with their sweetlj'-perfiimed streams Of crystal brilhancy and deepest dyes — Spread a ricli ray of glory o'er thy face, And flush'd it with a glow which poajt's pen Or painter's pencil never can portray; Close by the side of Night pale Silence stands, Motionless, thought-enrobed, calm, statue-like, Holding her sce)itre o'er a slcciping world, Hushing its faintest murmiirings to rest. Cynthia superbly sails along the sky. Peacefully gazing on the shrinking stars, Who wait far-ofi', as though in reverence ; She bathes all nature in a flood of light, And softly rains a gentle silv'ry shower Upon its moveless face with glory bright, In breatliless slumber wrapt, mute, placid, deep. All quiet, calm, and motionless as death. How still is all around me, sweetly still ! The breeze hath hush'd its whisp'ring melody. And sunk to rest beneath its balmy load. Its silken wings o'crpow'r'd with fragrancy ; For it hath kiss'd the roses' ruby lips. Till tremblingly they parted, then imbibed In rich dcHcious draughts their odorous breath. The beauteous roses bend their dcw-dronch'd heads, And gently touch the moon-iUuinined sward ; Fair flow'rs drop sweetness on the smiling earth, And stars direct tlieir holy glances there. The lilied fountains fling large liquid pearls High in tlie balmy air; in glowing groups. They fall a sparkling shower on all around — On roses, piuvly white as spotless snow Crowning tlie lofty mountain's mighty brow. Where clouds recline ; or like the soul-less clay, When mourners' tears fall on the pallid face, But which will never break that sacred sleep. The crystal orbs in coronals descend On roses blushing at the glance of night. Like beauty's cheeks at fond atfectiou's gaze ; And they, dear England's loveliest flow'rs, appear As if their leaves were dipp'd in sunset dyes. The dew-drops and the Ibuntains' drops combine. And mingling in one glist'ning garland, form A grand tiara, wreathing tlic fair flow'rs. They brightly fringe with lucent gems each leaf, And strew the emerald sward with diamonds, With splendour sparkling, like pure radiant pearls 94 In ocean caverns, wasb'd by whisp'ring waves, Wliich gently kiss them for their beauty's sake. The nightingale awakes a plaintive lay In you sweet bower of roses, and it Heats O'er man/ a moou-lit scene of loveliness ; The breeze, awaken'd by the silv'ry notes, Bears them away upon its viewless wings O'er beds of ll'owrs of multifarious hues, That look as they were steep'd in i-ainbow-tints. Melodiously kissing the sweet buds. That blusliingly unveil their loveliness : Deep crimson, mingled with the purest white In one fair flower appears ; another blooms As deeply blue as the star-studded sky : And while with heartfelt gratitude 1 gaze Upon the vast extent of garden-ground, That like a beauteous picture lies beneath, Chastely illumed with Cynthia's solemn light,— Oh, what transcendently fair ones I view, As o'er the varied scene my vision roams, Imbibing richest beauty at each glance. Causing emotion's tears to dim mine eyes ! Some^Btand alone, like mighty master-minds, Magnificently tow'ring o'er the rest, Feeling their gi-and superiority ; Some lovmgly are blooming on one stem, Like happy members of one family. Oh, my whole soul o'erflows with love to God For these beloved angel-ministrants — Sublimely eloquent, though ever mute. Whose heav'nly loveliness can melt the heart — Whose sQent teacliings lead t'ae soaring soul To glorious worlds above the star-strewn skies. Oh lovely flow'rs, my cver-faitliful friends! Ye are *he sweetest poetry of earth, Ye are the dim foreshadowings of heav'n : Bright angels showei''d ye from the realms above To give us a faint picture of their home, A gleam of its ne'er-fading loveliness. Ye kiss our footsteps wheresoe'er we roam; Ever with sweetest smiles ye welcome us ; We inadvertently may tread on you. And yet ye gently raise your trembling heads. And with the same sweet smile look in our face. And breathe a richer perfume in return ! Oh what deep lessons may we learn from you, Ye open books, bright with the light of God ! 95 Night, witli lier solemn sifter Silence, reigns; Her star-set banners she hath wide unfurl'd, Out-spreading them athwart a slimib'i'ing world, Ail mute as death, save Nature's melodies. But Bcaixty slumbers not, 'tis ever seen In all the works of the Omnipotent, Its voice is heard in softest melody ; While Plnlomela sweetly tells lier tale In dulcet carols to the flow'rs and stars. 'Tis heard in the rich rip'lings of the rill. That day and night stiy sings the same sweet song, — Pleasing, unchangeable monotony — Murm'ring its lucid path 'mong weeping flowers. That gently bow their odoriferous heads, And faintly touch its crystalline, fair face, And, trembUng weep translucent drops of dew ; Wliilst it reflects the grand God-written sky, With its rich wealth of pearls more thickly strewn Than summer daisies on the verdant mead : And beauty beams from those refulgent orbs. Lustrously bright with glory-gleams from heav'n, In yon cerulean dome, of deeper dye Than darkest sapphire, or sweet Spring's blue-bells j And beauty falls in a resplendent stream From Cynthia's glowing face on sleeping earth. And doubly beautifies each beauteous spot. The beautiful presents its smiling face Wlicre'er the eyes may turn ; we ever greet Witli grateful heart, this glorious work of God. Whether at morn's first blush or eve's decline, Or when grand Night in lovdiness appears. It sparkles still above, beneath, around. We thank Thee for the beautiful, great God, — For life would be a dark and chsraal dream Without this fairest workmanship of Thine. It constitutes a part of nil below, It fills and mantles everything above, Yea, all is it, for all is beauty there : We need no voice to say it sprang from Thee, For Thou art beauty, grandest beauty all. Earth is more hcav'niy during solemn Night, Than when th' irradiating golden orb Floods it resplcndently with dazzling hght ; A deeper, holier, hallow'd loveliness Presideth o'er the world wliilc midnight rejgng ; For to my mind a holy influence 96 Is sweetly falling with the silv'ry light, That rains from those bright companies of stars ; And heav'n seems nearer and more sacred now, Wlule angels' eyes are calmly gazing down. Watching a beautiful, though fallen world, FiUing the heart with awe at each rich glance- Causing proud man to bend liis knees m prayer. And praise the Author of such loveliness ; For He is worthy of the heart's sole love ; Its deepest adoration e'er should flow In a continuous, unceasing stream. Unto the One who causes it to beat. And feel such thrills of glowuig ecstasy, Whilst gazing on His works magnificent. * * * * * *A star hath left its heav'nly realms of blue. And lightning-like descendeth from its home, Parting the stiU air with a trail of hght. Leaving a golden track of glowing rays : Brighter and brighter to the view it grows, As nearer it approaches to our world, — A globe of splendour faUiilg through vast space ; And as I strive to follow with my sight The downward motion of this faUing star, Lo, it assumes a shape angeUcal, All radiant with its heav'nly attributes. With glory crown'd, robed with the hght of God. Nearer and nearer still he wings his flight. Raining a show'r of splendour o'er the earth ; My vision blinded with the brilliancy, I tremblingly avert my aching eyes. Shading them from the overpow'ring sight. Hark ! what celestial music strikes my ear ? 'Tis the sweet sound of the majestic wave Of his seraphic pinions, and I feel A spirit-thrilling flash of Uving hght Fall on my upturn'd face at each rich gush Of that melodious music. As I strive To ope my longing eyes the brightness grows Intensely brighter, and the melody Nearer and nearer flows, till I am bathed In the resplendency, and my rapt soul Seems floating in a sea of liquid light. Oh, blessedness ! I feel his piercing gaze ; * Some of the following lines appear in " The Eternal," but are in- troduced here in order to render the present piece more complete. 97 It purifies my soul, inspires my mind, Divests my heart of all its earthliness, Etherealizes, strengthens, sanctifies ; Illuminatmg with translucent rays The shades of darknesss, till my being grows Bright, clear, and holy, as a sin-freed soul. The veil withdrawn, my vision purified, I now can look luidazzled on the face — The angel-face, sufl'used with light and love, Benignly bent upon my countenance. Oh that I could for ever gaze as now — For ever feel those glances beam from eyes Of star-like splendour — ever still behold That noble, spiritual, God-like form ! Oh, 'tis a glimpse of heav'n, a foretaste here Of those unequall'd raptures death reveals '. My full heart throbs with exquisite dehght. Ecstatic flows the life-stream through my veins, I tremble with the highest happiness, And at each gaze I drink in deepest draughts Of admiration, wonder, love, and awe, Sublunely blended in one glowing stream. Earth, what are all thy transitory joys, Placed in comparison with what I feel At this blest moment ? — to return the gaze Of one whom God Himself hath smiled upon! Oh, I must break this blissful spell with words, Or I shall di(! with joy ere I attain The consummation of ray great desire ! Speech feebly rises to my trembling lips, — With falt'ring voice imploringly I cry, " Angel of light! bright spirit from the skies! Oh, for one moment hst to my request, And let me not beseech thine aid in vain : Up-bcar me on thy pinions far above, To that sweet home of love and happiness Where lie, my Maker, dwells, who is all Love, All Peace, all Truth, all Light, all Loveliness ; Tlic Spring of purest bliss, the Source of joy, The Gloriiier and the Glorified. Bear me away to that beatic clime, Eeveal the glories veil'd from mortal view ; Oh let me hear the heav'n-resounding lays Hymn'd unto God in serapli-tones hke thine! My spirit ycanis but for one glimpse of heav'n — One moment, but one moment to be there, i( 98 And I slioulcl live a thousaud years of bliss In that bright, fleeting interval of time. I've iiousht wherewith to recommend this wish, Nought worthy thy acceptance m reward, Save heartfelt gratitude and fervent thanks ; In these I'm rich ; these thou shalt gladly have. My heart is fired with this intense desire ; Oh, thwart it not ; see how my whole foi-m throbs. Longing for droopless pinions like to thine, So that through boundless space my soul may soar Higher and higher still, through yon blue veil Into the Presence of thy God and mine. Thy pinions are outspread ; before thee lies Tliat yet fair pathway, brightly traced by thee In thy descent. I pray ascend it now. And bear me with thee to thy heav'nly home !" He grasps my trembling form, expands his wings. And reascendeth through the solemn air. Which ev'ry movement of his pinions fills With heav'nly music and with golden light. Up through the vast immensity of space We swiftly go ; the hush'd earth lies beneath : How grand, how beautiful it now appears ! Its grassy caqiet spread before my view ; Its mighty forests ; rivers rolling on To boundless ocean, whose majestic waves Heave with the mmgled wealth from ev'ry clime ; Its mountains crown'd with everlasting snows, IMagiiificently tow' ring to the sky; These, and innumerable other scenes, Fast fade away the higher we ascend. We rise to worlds of mightier magnitude ; And as I cast my wonder-stricken gaze Down to the earth, — behold ! a globe it hangs In the infinity of solemn space : And still it smaller grows, and lessens, till A solitary star it faintly gleams — A small speck in the everlasting void ; While all around me roU irradiant worlds, To which yon dwindled earth seems nothmg now. Higher and liigher still he wings his flight, While glowing planets flash in grandeiu^ by. And lose themselves in distant realms of space ; A star each first appear'd, and then a globe, And vaster grew and magnified itself "Until a glorious world it was reveal' d. 99 Oh mighty Power, how wonderful, how great, Stupendously mysterious, to create All this — and more ; for as we higher rise, Ten thousand times ten thousand myriads more Star-hke begem the darkness with theu* hght. The angel, still upon untiring wings Sustain'd by heav'nly and increasing strength. Soars upward to his native home on high. The brighten'd space around more brightly glows, And my thrill'd soul with trembling rapture feels It is the light of heav'n. Th' effulgence streams In floods around me, like a silv'ry sea, Drowning the starry worlds, and filling space With purest and unclouded brilliancy. We float through regions of refulgent hght, Whose brightness ev'ry moment brighter gi'ows ; We're robed with splendour, and the angel's head Is wreathed with glory — a bright crown of hght, A golden halo round a spotless brow. Like distant music from a multitude I faintly hear tJje harmonies of heav'n ; And still as we soar higher, the strange strains Grow grander, louder, more distinctly cleai* : We breathe an atmosphere of melody. Space and its rolling orbs lie far beneath, Nought is around us but resplendent hght, Heaving with throbs of music. Higher still The angel speeds his ever-onward course — Oh, glorious, glorious scene ! — the air is flll'd With angel throngs, and from their lips and harps Flow blended melodies of praise ; and now My guide joins his exultant song with theirs. We're mounting to the Tlirone, the Thi'one of God O'erclouded with the shades it casts around, So radiant is it witli transcendent liglit From the Eternal King who sittetli there. My spirit trembles with deep, solemn awe As nearer to the sacred spot we come. Innumerable seraphs in wiiito robes-^ Tlie blissful robes of immortality — With crowns of glory sparkling on their heads, And palms of vict'ry waving in tlieir iiands. Strike simultaneously tlieir golden harps, And pour forth one celestial harmony ; While the eternal realms reverberate With the deep echoes of their joyful song : 100 " Blessing, and glory, wisdom, power, and praiae, Thanksgiving, honour, might, and majesty Be unto God for ever, and for ever." And as they sing their mingling melody, They fall before the Throne and worship God. Around, above, beneath, upon the King All glories are combined— from Him they spring, He is their quenchless Fount, their Life, their All. A glorious halo crowns the Deity, A fadeless wreath around th' eternal God. His dazzling eyes are like bright flames of fire, His countenance more clear than cloudless day, And far moi'e spotless than unsullied snow ; Whiter than wool His head and hair appear ; There crowns on crowns in glorious grandeur glow, For He is King of kings — oh, glorious crowns, Now ye are honour' d and not honouring. Aroimd His waist a golden girdle's clasp'd ; He's clothed with a vesture dipp'd in blood, Descending to His splendour-sparkling feet ; And there, upon that ever-blessed robe, Is written, "King of kings, and Lord of lords." Around the great white Throne a rainbow rests. Like to an emerald ; and from the Throne Proceedeth vivid lightnings' dazzUng flash, While mighty voices, blent with thunderings, Are solemnly reverberating there. THE CEUCIFIXION. Darkness envelopes solemn Calvary — Deep darkness at mid-day, for the bright sun, UnwUhng to behold its Maker die, In sombre clouds now hides its sorrowing face, Veiling its glory from the wond'ring world. Th' astonish'd earth is struck with shiv'ring awe ; The veil of Israel's temple rends in twain, Revealing the most holy place to eyes That ne'er before beheld its sanctity. The vivid lightnings, like a fiery stream, Dart vrildly, widely down the darken'd air ; Loud thunders roll around the solemn scene In deaf ning answer to the lightning's fire. 101 The rocks, as if in pain, asunder burst ; The graves give up their dead, who glide along, 'Mid murky twilight, through the silent streets. There on the Tree of Shame the Lord is pierced ; Upon His head is placed a crown of thorns ; Large drops of blood are sti'eaming down His brow : In words of prophecy He loudly cries " Eh, Eh, lama sabacthani." His pallid hps are parch'd with burning heat; Faint with the piercuig pain. He cries, " I thirst." They bring Him wine and myi-rh ; He scarcely tastes, But in full consciousness endures the woe. One struggle more, in which He gathers up Tlie strength that makes atonement, and He cries " 'Tis finish'd. I have done Thy will, O God ! Into Thy hands my spirit I commend." He bows His head, and thus gives up the ghost. FEAR NOT. Oh ye who on the sea of Life, Shrouded with clouds and tcmpest-toss'd, Surrounded with the beating waves, Despairing, deem that all is lost ; — Whose hearts are full of phantom-fears, Whose ev'ry joy seems ever flown, Whose course is dark as starless night. Where once the cheering sunbeams shone ;- Arouse ye from your moody thought ! Awake ye from your lethargy ! Erect in form and firm in mind. And strong in purpose, true and high, — Fear not the clouds, but dare tlie storm ; Press onward through the heaving tide ; Conquer the waves, repel Despair, Be Fuitli for ever at your side. Then all tlie clouds shall roll away. The stormy billows will subside. And Night will change to brightest Day, As o'er the sea ye gently glide. 102 TO LADT- Oh briglit as the smiles of a golden-hued morning, And sweet as the flow'rs of the beautiful Mar ; Oh, fairer than visions soft slumber adorning ; More glad than the soaring lark's jubilant lay; Out-sliining the summer with lovehness beaming. Were the mornings that rose so cloudless on me ; And brighter than sunset with magic hues streaming, Were the swift ev'ning hours, while conversing with thee. Then earth seem'd a heav'n, and my soul leap'd with gladness Life changed from dark winter to bright sunny spring ; In streams of deep rapture I drown'd all my sadness ; Joys fluttered around me on radiant wing. Thy beautiful image I'll evermore cherish : 'Tis shrined in the innemiost depths of my heart ; There, there 'tis engraven, oh, never to perish ; Nor even at Death shall its impress depart ! A THANKSGIVING AND A PEATEE. Almighty God, I thank Thee for the gift of Poesy ; — Accept the humble praise and prayer I offer unto Thee ; My heart o'erflows withgi-atitude, that fills mine eyes with teai-s, To Thee will I devote my powers throughout my future years. I thank Thee for the thoughts that come and glow within my mind, And for the varied loveliness in all Thy works I find ; I thank Thee for the bHss I feel when beauty meets my view, Whose radiance brightens land and sea, and gems the bound- less blue. I thank Thee for the hfe Thou'st given ; — oh, may I live for Thee! Give me the power to sound Thy praise through Immortahty ; Illuminate my darken'd sovd, fill it with dazzling light. Irradiate it with Thy beams — glories divinely bright. With trembhng voice, with clasped hands, knees bent in fer- vent prayer. And supphcating eyes upturn'd unto Thy home so fair ; In broken accents, Lord, I pray, oh pour Thy light within, So that its sacred radiance may drown each shade of sin. 103 Oh, make me like unto Thyself, — true, holy, just, and-mild. Blest with a strong and soaring mind, yet humble as a child ; Oh, for the sake of T]\v great Name, most earnestly I pray, lUume my mind till it becomes,bright iu Thy bright'ning Day ! Give me the gift of Poesy — the rich, the glorious gift, As wealthy as it was of old — so that I may ujilift l^ry grateful voice in praise to Thee, in strains that will not die, But whose young melodies shall live as long as yonder sky. Oh, Thou didst bless those holy bards who lived in days of yore, Those Prophets of Thy precious Book, bright lights on Time's dark shore, Whose hai-ps secm'd dropp'd by seraphim from heaven's tuneful bowers. And fell into their trembling hands wreathed with fair fade- less flowers. Oh, lend me for a little while, a narrow space of time, One from the myriad golden harps swept in yon upper cHme, Whose ever-sounding strings are touch'd by angels' tireless fingers — E'en now, while heav'n's exultant song within its chords still lingers ! Let me awaken from those chords a grateful song to Thee Of mingled prayer, and thankfulness, a heartsung melody ; Oh, let me sweep the poet's lyre with strength that will not wane, A world-awak'ning song of fire, a spirit-thrilling strain. My whole soul longs, prays, pants, and burns, to claim sweet Poesy ; To feel the overpowering joy, dearer than all to rac ; To have the consciousness of power to sound myMaker's praise, And pour the tribute to Thy Name through all my future days. Almighty God, I thank Thee for the s])ark I now possess ; But liumbly I im])lore, my mind still further bless; Kindle the spark into a flame, an aye-increasing flame, That I may raise a worthier song to Thy eternal Name. Oil, cause the world to listen to the music of my lyre ! Oil, let its ev'ry melody be warm with licav'nly fire! Say but the word, and it is done in answer to my tliought — Yea, even less, far less than this, and the desire is wrought. 104 The stars are gazing on me as I raise my tearful eyes, And look in awe and wonder iqjon the beaming skies ; They are raining their calm lustre upon the slumb'ring earth. And soothe my heart with thoughts and hopes that claim celestial birth. Yes, Thou can'st fill my ardent mind with purest rays of light ; I ask not for Fame's starred crown to fill me with delight, But I ask for power to praise Thee of whom, to whom, are all, And on Thy all-inspiring Name for inspiration call. Oh, wake witlun my waiting soul the powers of Poesy, That I may pour my grateful thanks in deathless lays to Thee— Praise Thee on earth, and when my soul from all below shall sever, Praise Thee above, in realms of love, for ever and for ever. THE EOSES. The roses' sweet dewdrops beam sparklingly bright, For seraphs have kindled the stars in the sky. And Cynthia is lovingly smihng to-night. And her crystaUine rays on the fair flowers lie. Oh, some are as white as the tender moonlight, And some Uke the blush of the sunset bright ; While hues of lich lustre in others unite, And in beauty and lovehness gracefully vie. They bloom by the fountain, and list to its song, As it mirrors the gems upon night's azure veil ; While Philomel's music steals softly along. As it pours to sweet Zephyr a love-laden tale. The lay of the warbler, the sigh of the breeze. Melodiously float through the blossoming trees ; While the fountain is fringing the quivering leaves, As the flowers' fresh fragrances float through the vale. There are garlands and jewels above and below — O'er the sappliirine sky, in the beauty-blest bow'rs ; Oh, gloriously grand they glitter and glow. Like flow'rs in the heav'ns, and like stars on the flow'rs. Tiaras of dewdrops enwreathe the rich roses, Where the smile of fair Flora in sweetness reposes ; While the breeze with a soft kiss a red bloom uncloses. Which blossoms the brightest and best in the bow'rs. 105 TRANSLATIONS. ixm tk 6rcc!u AUDI ALTERAM PARTEM. T7NA PAES. Canst thou point out to me but one career Wliich man may follow free from trouble here ? In politics deceit and strife abound, And discord in domestic life is found : The farmer's care and labour never cease ; The merchant, fearing shipwreck, finds no peace : The traveller, if rich, must hve in dread, — If poor, contempt will fall upon his head. Anxiety comes' with the wedded state, Yet celibacy leaves us desolate ; So children prove a burden to the mind, But childless people leave no trace behind ; ^\'hile thoughtlessness oft mars our youthfid years, And imbecility in age appears. I would, had I been able to decide. Never have lived, or in my childhood died. ALTEKA PAES. In each career we may, if so inclined, Some good to balance ev'ry evil find. In politics obtain wc fame and pow'r. And in domestic life the quiet hour : Tlie farmer's toil by harvest is repaid, — The merchant's fortune by the ocean made : If rich, the trav'ller information gains, — If poor, his poverty unscann'd remains. In matrimony sympathy we share, And celibacy leaves us void of care ; So children plant affection in the heart, Yet childless ])eople have a lighter part ; While hcaltli and vigour bless our youthful year*. And in old age sagacity appears. Oh, rather far, had choice been left to me, I would have lived, and still would living be. 106 EPIGEAM. Enjoy thy wealth, as if this day Would finish thy career ; Yet husband it, as thou wert sui-e Of living many a year. The M'ise man sets a medium prudently Betwixt extravagance and penury. |r,om t\t f atiiL THE GOLDEN MEAN. [hoeace.] THEOueH life, Licinius, you will safer steer, By neither sailing always on the main, Nor keepuig to the dangerous coast too neai', Dreading the hurricane. Whoe'er is to the golden mean disposed. Would shun the meanness of a crumbhng cell, Nor in a lordly residence, exposed To envy, woidd he dwell. More frequently before the tempest bends, The lofty pine ; a heavier ruin smites The highest tow'rs ; the flaming lightning rends The cloud-veil'd mountain-heights. ^o'- Hope in distress, fear in prosperity. Within a duly-temper'd breast abides. The Power that sends us whiter' s gloom, is He Who summer's Ught provides. Ill will depart, though for awhile it makes Its stay with us. With accents sweet and low The peaceful lyre at times Apollo wakes, Nor always bends liis bow. Amid tempestuous troubles, oh be strong And brave of heart : — -and so, when prosp'rous gales With swoUen canvass bear your barque along, Wiselv contract the sails ! 107 /rmii t!]t f rDQEiital. THE LOYE OF GOD. * [beenaed eascas.] All earthy things must one day pass away, But not the love of God, which hves for aye. Our bodies to the worms shall offer food ; The fresh and tender green shall leave the wood ; The forest-birds shall cease to sing then- lays, The gentle nightingale his voice to raise : The cattle on the mead, the white-clad sheep, Shall feel Death's pointed arrows enter deep : The rav'nous wolf, fierce boar, and subtle fox. The stag, the goat, the chamois of the rocks, The savage bear, shall moulder into dust. Dolphin, and whale, each ocean-monster must Waste into sHme : so every race and realm, Monarch and noble, Death shall overwhelm. While, Scripture tells, this earth so widely spread. Shall, with the star-lit firmament o'er-head. Dissolve, and lose its form : — all pass away. But not the love of God, which lives for aye. ixm tk €mm\. FANCY. Thoitgh my dwelling-place be narrow, Yet I have the gift of Fancy, Op'ning all the world to me. With the wonders it possesses. On the heights, and in the hollows, And within the roUing sea. On the loftiest mountain-summits She can sit with lordly eagles, Gazing on the orb of day : She can lurk witiiin the caverns, High above whose roaring waters Crystal domes hang in array. 108 She can wander with the tempest, Tread where wave on wave is pressing Wildly on the boundless deep ; And descend to its abysses, Where the sharks amid the branches Of the coral calmly sleep. She can thread the crag-wall'd passes, Linger where the storm-lash'd torrents, Fierce with anger, loudly roar ; 'Neath the palm-trees, too, can ramble, Where through ever-verdant foliage Sunbeams soften'd lustre pour. Musing, she directs her footsteps Through those far-extending regions Where the sun exhausts the wells, Where the winds scorch like a furnace, And upon the fiery sand-waste Death-like Silence ever dwells. Joyfully she waves her pinions Where the rivers by the vine-hills Richly-laden vessels bear ; While the corn waves in the valleys, And the deer leap in the forest, — Labour stirring everywhere. Grandly by Thy Word, Creator, Is this earth of ours embellish'd, — And my own I call the earth ; For the pow'r to me is given Which enables me unfetter'd To enjoy its wond'rous worth. THE FLOWERET. Through the wide forest At leisure I went ; Nothing to seek for. Then had I intent. 109 In the shade saw I A flow'ret arise, Beaming hke starlets, And lovely as eyes. I went to pluck it, It whisper'd to me, " Shall I to wither Be broken by thee ? Up then I took it, The rootlets and all, Bore to the garden That flow'ret so small. There I replanted It, in a still place : Now again blooms it, And groweth apace. THE WAISTDEREE'S NIGHT-SONG. [tthland.] O'ee shrouded earth I journey far ; No light is there from moon or star, The wind is blowing cold. Oft have I trod these weary miles When shed the sun his golden smiles, And whisp'ring zephyrs stroll'd. I pass the gloomy garden by ; The bare trees sadly moan and sigh. As down their dead leaves fall. Communing witli my Love I roam'd Hero often, when the roses bloom' d, And love pervaded all. The sunshine now has pass'd away, The roses fallen to decay. My Love a grave has found. O'er shrouded earth I journey on, While temi)ests rage, and hght is gone, And wrap my mantle round. 110 A j\^EW-TEAR'S LAY. [LANaBEIN.] Out of heaven'3 starlit halls Comes there forth a glad New- Year, And from ev'ry side resound Prayers and wishes in his ear. Want complains : " My drink is water, Bread as hard as stone is mine : Like rich epicures, oh, give me Dainty fare and gladd'ning wine !" At'eice cries : " I cannot rest, — After gold I still must strive : Let my idol in the chest Ever flom-ish ever thrive !" Says A51BITION : " I am struggling Up the mountain-height of jDow'r ; To a station more exalted Kaise me with thy ev'ry hour!" Selpishstess entreats : " Give all — Give, give ev'rything to me ! Care not for the tlu'ong around, — Mine let all thy presents be !" Friendship prays : " Be thy best treasures To my faithful friend supplied ! For myself demand I nothing, So that nought is him denied." And we others all beseech : " Give each dweller on this sphere, In the palace or the cot. Happiness throughout the year !' THE WAVE. [tiedge.] " Whithee, thou troubled wave Whither so quick away. As if in search of prey ?" Ill " I am Life's turbid wave, Impure with river clay ; I hasten from the press Of this small stream, to lave In ocean-bomidlessness, And free me from the slime Brought from the shores of Time.'' THE SOUL OF LOVE. [SALIS.] Wheee dwells the soul of Love ? It dwells in tree and flow'r : The buds, when sweetly parting, And into blossoms starting. Proclaim its magic pow'r. Where dwells the soul of Love ? In sunset's glow it dwells. And down in shaded valleys ; With butterflies it sallies Forth from their gloomy shells. Where dwells the soid of Love ? It tlirills the maiden's breast ; Upon her cheek it blushes. And in her soft song gushes, To cheer the heart oppress'd. Where dwells the soul of Love ? In fire, and wind, and wave ; It breathes through all creation, Pervades all animation, Lives even in the grave. Where dwells the soid of Love? Throughout the universe : Sun, moon, and stars effuse it ; And eartli, were she to lose it, In chaos would disperse. 112 MY FRIENDLY HOST. [UHLAND.] I KNOW a host extremely kind, And lately was his guest : A golden apple was his sign, That on a bough did rest. It was the friendly Appletree, This worthy host of mine ; And dainty fare he gave to me. With drmk as good as wine. Beneath his verdant shelter came Full many a happy guest, Who merrily kept hohday, And sang with hearty zest. On tender grass, for soothing rest, I found an ample bed ; For covering, mine host himself His shade above me spread. The morn, I ask'd what was to pay. He only shook his head : The sweetest sunshine, softest rain, Be ever o'er him shed I FAEEWELL ! [TTHLAIsT).] Fahewell ! fareweU, my love ! To-day, alas ! we sever. One kiss, one kiss bestow, — The last, perhaps, for ever ! One blossom, but one blossom, Pluck from thy fav'rite tree ; For fruit, for fruit I wait not, — I leave it all to thee ! 113 THOU&HTS. Good deeds in the grave ne'er lie, Evil actions cannot die ; These by iiafamy survive, Those by fame are kept alive. — [Logatt.] Who threatens from without, Is thy least enemy : Who in thy bosom dwells, Can do more injury. — [Tscherning.] Return not evil when thy foes assail ; So over self and them thou wilt prevail. — [^Ibid.^ Th i' life be such as, when death summons thee, Thou wouldst desire thy life had been. — [G-elleet.] ^ram tin SlucMslr. TO-NIGHT. The clouds on high conceal the sky, My love, to-night, and veil the light Of moon and star ; Yet deep there lies in thy blue eyes A hue more bright ; they shed a light More radiant far. No zephyi's soft tlieir fragrance waft, Nor bear along the tuneful song Of joyous birds. Than zephyrs are, thy breath is far More sweet to me, with melody Of loving words. Cold is the air, the boughs are bare ; Tlio silent grove, where'er we rove, Ib wrapt in gloom. Thy heart is warm, and fair thy form, My love, my liglit ! and thou art bright With vernal bloom. 114 /rom tin gaiiisL TO SWEDEN. [PAEAPHEASED TEOII HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN.] Land of feelings deep and strong, Land of sweet pathetic song, — Land where clear streams glide along, Where the wild swans sing, — Where the beech-woods scent the gale, WTiere fair fiow'rets paint the vale, Wliere the wliisp'ring zephyrs saU, Gently joui*neying. Land of lakes so calm and deep. Land where pine-trees crown each steep, Land where laughing rivers sweep, Sparklingly along, — Land of mountains, grand, sublime. Spirit-haunted, holy clime, Thou shalt live as long as Time, — Glorious Sweden land of song ! fiam ih Italian. THE LYRE. [chiabeeha.] LoTE, when he would hear me sing. Takes his bow — the cruel thing — Flics to Amarilla's eyes. And while there he lurking Ues, With a glance of hers for dart Shoots, and wounds me in the heart. Soon as I receive the blow, Witli my lyre instead of bow — While Apollo, my ally. Doth the sweetest notes supply — I assault the maiden's heart, \A'ho provided love the dart. 115 Not the learned doctor's ekill, Not the potent magic pill, When sweet beauty wounds the heart, Ever can relief impart : Solace may alone be found In the lyre'3 delicious sound. THE BOY AND THE BUTTERFLY. [eossi.] A ROVING butterfly Is flitting to and fro. Now rapidly and high, Now tardily and low. In errant passage over A blooming field of clover. A boy, with longing gaze. The roving insect views, Antfthrough its devious ways He hastily pursues, Till, on a bloom reposing, The butterfly seems dosing. Then softly, silently. To it tlie boy draws near ; His heart beats luuriedly "With mingled hope and fear ; His cheeks the rose resemble, His feet beneath him tremble. With eager hand the bloom He grasps impetuously, And with its sweet perfume The heedless butterfly : So tightly he enfolds it, 'Tis dying as ho holds it. Fill'd with a thousand joys. He loudly from their play Humiiions the other boys Immediately away. To share with him the pleasure Of gazing on his treasure. 116 The lovely majesty And beauty of his prize He wishes all to see : There with expectant eyes They stand ; but stiU he hngers, Nor yet unlocks his fingers. Meanwhile each lustrous hue, The piu'ple and the gold, The wings that Uglitly flew, And o'er the meadows stroll'd, Untiringly he praises In many sounding phrases. At length he can decide The captive to display : His hand he opens wide — Lo ! there, to liis dismay, A little dust is lying — A worthless grub is dying ! * •jt ^ ^ Soon from the butterfly had fled The beauty so much coveted. When in the boy's hand press'd: So what we eagerly desire, Alas ! leaves nothing to admire Ofttimes, when once possess'd BEAUTY. [PARAPHEASED FEOM AN EPIGRAM OF LEMENO.] Grew a rose-tree by a brook, Grrew so close that it covdd look , On its|charms reflected there — Contemplate its beauties rare, Leaf and flow'r and tender bud. Tracing in the mirror-flood. Came an angry breeze along. Came impetuous and strong, Scatter'd all the I'oses' bloom. Reckless of their sweet jjerfume. By the current borne away, Soon the drifting flow'r s decay, And beneath the gliding wave Sink into an early grave. Ah ! that Beauty oft should flee, Like the roses on that tree. 117 THE TREE OP HOPE. [MARTINEZ.] At the foot of a cradle growing Is Hope's aspiring^ tree, And it bends when the breeze is blowing, Like grass upon the lea. Peradventure one moment sees it Caress'd by zephyrs soft ; But more frequently north-winds fi-eeze it. And south-winds parch it oft. Though it grows up and blossoms fairly, Its fruits are few and small ; For the sweet buds appear too early, Untimely diq^ and fall. And when higher its boughs are rising. They greater perils meet, As the cedar-tree, earth despising. Encounters storm and heat. Now ahghts on its lordly summit The eagle on his way, While the insects and worms o'ercome it, Sapping its life away. As its roots are in earth descending, Its branches spreading wide. In a sheltering shade extending. Death fells it m its pride. THE BIRD'S NEST. [maetinez.] Whither goest, cruel boy, With that nest— thou full of joy, While the captives in tliy prize Utter loud and mournful cries ? But a moment were they left By their mother, now bereft, 118 While she went in search of food For her darling infant brood. Hear how piteously she cries, — See how frauticly she flies To and fi'o, from tree to tree, Here and there pursuing thee, Praying Heav'n to grant relief To a parent's bitter grief; While her little ones in vain Strive their freedom to regain. Boy, thou hadst a mother too. Taken early from thy view, Leaving thee on earth to moiu-n, Homeless, destitute, forlorn. Teardrops quickly to the eyes Of the orphan boy arise, And ashamed, confounded, he Leaves the nest upon the tree. INVOCATION TO SLEEP. [maetinez.] Sole solace of man's many miseries. Sweet balsam for the wounded breast ! Come, gentle Sleep ! and close my weary eyes In sorrow-soothing rest. Come, sliadow-wing'd and silent deity ! Upon my lonely couch alight, Where one time Happiness reposed with me, But Grief abides to-night. And while thy soft embrace enfolds my form, Lull'd by the rustling of the trees. And by the hollow murm'ring of the distant storm, My heart shall be at ease. Jfram tlje |0rt«gufSD. MORTIS RATIO. " Oh, tell me why the old must die, And why must all grow old, To pass away to dark decay, And crumble into mould ; 119 "While e'en the young must oft among The old to earth be borne, — So soon descend from ev'ry friend, And leave them here to mourn ?" " The old must go down, down below Into the yawning tomb. Because for all the world's too small — Their children want their room : And for this cause, by Nature's laws, Some young must also die ; Else where were space in this small place. When men so multiply. gxm tl]e Irciicl]. A THUNDER-STORM. [ST. LAMBERT.] From the horizon two small clouds arise ; — They slowly meet together in the skies. And gradually blacken as they spread ; While distant thunder-claps arc heard o'er-head, That agitate the air, disturb the seas, And make the leaves all quiver on the trees. The dread peals echo 'mid the mountain-steeps, Till nature, trembling at tlie uproar, weeps. But now a deatli-like calm gives sliort respite. And earth, in silence, listens witli affright. Plains, mountains, woods, the vast expanse of blue, 'Neatli a black veil soon vanish from the view : The clouds grow thicker, others too appear. And weigh on tlic hot, breathless atmospliere. Now lightning-flashes cleave the darkcn'd sky, And thunder sliakes the heavy mass on high : Flash after flash, peal after peal succeeds ; A more than midnight gloom incessant leads Unto a ghastly, fleeting kind of day. A fierce wind from the west joins in the fray. 120 And rushing o'er the plains, lays low the corn ; Wliile clouds of dust, upon its wings upborne, Whirl round and round, in wild impetuous flight. Robbing the fields of their remaining light. The stricken people hear the church-bell's sound. To God's house gather from the homesteads roimd, And deprecate His wrath in humble prayer. Beseeching Him their food, their lives to spare. Alas ! the ice-balls fall from fiery heav'n, Crushing the grain ah'eady earthward driv'n. The clouds by wind and thunder now are torn ; The farmer views his wasted fruit and corn, And clasps his trembling children to his heart. The storm subsides : but foaming torrents start From cloud-robed mountains, with infuriate roar, And sweep the land of what was left before. The crops are all desti'oyed, or wash'd away. And a year's toil undone in one short day. THE TEMPLE OP DEATH. [htjbeet.] Par in the frozen ocean of the North, Where Sol his light reluctantly gives forth, Is a deep valley in a desert isle. Which never yet was blest with heaven's smile. Dead cypress-trees cumber the arid ground. Among whose boughs ill-omen'd birds abound : There none but deadly-pois'nous plants arise. And dreary winter ever shrouds the skies : The fields around, like untrunm'd graveyards grow; Torrents of blood in place of rivers flow. Choked up with putrid corpses, paved with bones, Instead of murm'ring, utt'ring hollow groans. Down m this valley, since the world was framed. Has stood a huge round temple, widely famed : East, west, north, south, erected by the Fates, Dividing earth, are massive iron gates ; At each throngs ever in a motley crowd, Alike of young and old, of base and proud ; Age, War, Disease, and Want, a trusty band, Untiring warders at these portals stand : While hosts of human woes keep guai'd around. In black robes clad ; and o'er the walls are bound Funereal paUs, that trail upon the ground. 121 Torches of pitch, placed liere and tliere on tombs, Spread darkness in their suffocating fumes. A senseless, sightless monster ever reigns Despotic monarch of these drear domains ; And every earthly thing that draweth breath Must one day bow to him — his name is Death. fim the Mclsii THE CAPTIVE'S SONG. [ap ewan. Though sti'ong and thick tlie granite wall Of this round tow'r so high, Where, in a dungeon dark and small, A prisoner I lie : Though fast refeiincd, year after year. By massive lock and key ; I am not wliolly captive here, — My spirit still is free. It soars beyond these iron bars, Mounts to the azure dome, And wanders where the radiant stars Ilavo their paviUon-homc. When warblers sing their morning lay, It joins in their sweet song ; And when they widely wing their way, It flics with them along. When goats on yonder mountain-steep, That tow'rs amid the blue, From crag to crag so fearless leap. My spirit leapcth too. Of human fellowship bereft Though I may ever be, Stars, mountains, goats, and birds arc loft To bear mo company. END OF TRANSLATIONS. 122 EXTRACTS FEOM A LECTURE " On the Rise and Progrexs of Literature and Science in England." It has frequently been observed, and past experience bears out the truth of the assertion, that hardly anything tends more to the improvement of mankind in the pursuit of know- ledge, (except of course the du-ect acquirement of that parti- cular branch of study to which we apply ourselves,) than the forming an acquaintance with the history of past times and sciences ; of the genius, the struggles, and final triumphs of scientific men. Their energetic perseverance, their noble self- denial, their difficulties, their disappointments, and their victories, make the reader burn with a feehng of emulation, and sustain his patience and encourage his perseverance in that pursuit, by the knowledge that others have passed through the same ordeal. And now the lonely hermit in his woodland grot, and the solitary monk in his secluded cloister, felt, as well as the simple-minded Giotto, tlie transcendent Leonardo da Vinci, or the heavenly-minded Dante, — tlie philosopher skilled in all learned accomplishments, equally with the meditative peasant, — that the great prize upon earth, the real philosopher's stone of the heart, is truth. This was the great secret of the age, the keystone to all the revolutions and changes of that mighty era Fi'om the first diS'usion of the light of knowledge upon the obscurity of the dark ages in the days of the immortal Petrarch we may trace its gradual onward progress, — slow, but certain, in spite of every opposition, — breaking down every barrier to its triumphant march ; discoviraged, indeed, at times, and beaten back, but only to burst out afresh with recovered and renewed strenffth. The name of Edmund Spenser is associated in our minds with all that is pure and noble in our nature. The gentle fiincies, the graceful simplicity, and above all, the exhaustlesa imagination of his writings, call forth our enthusiastic admira- tion, and invite us back to those " good old days," when fairies and pixies roamed over the hills and dales of merry England. While the attention is rivetted to his simple tale, the mind cannot help being enchanted with the elegant and classic beauty of the verses. He is one of the foremost of those English bards, whose works, being full of real poetry, wiU lead the mind of man in advance of his age, and expedite in no small degree the arrival of his nature at excellence. 123 Although fancy is chiefly connected with mental unreal- ities, and can of itself bring no work to perfection — yet it shews its possessor to have an acuteness of genius to pierce the depths of mental darkness which exist around him, and in a measure to forsee the progress and full developement of metaphysical and philosophical science. The days that can boast of the great Sir Isaac Newton possess a treasure which will not be sullied by number of years, nor grow out of date by the lapse of time. His many wonderful scientific discoveries, and particularly those con- nected with the laws of gravitation and the solar system, have done more for the elucidation and progress of scientific truth, have brought to light more of the secret powers of Nature, and established the present received theory on a firmer basis than those of any other philosopher either before or since his time, and earned for himself a renown imperishable as the laws he estabhshed. During the present century the progress of knowledge in literature, and in artistic and scientific pursuits has been beyond all parallel. 5oth at home and abroad has the march of science maintained its onward course, until it has arrived at that degree of excellence whicli we now enjoy. Never did any other epoch in the world's history record so marvellous an improvement — both in giving bu'th to new inventions, and in bringing to perfection those conceived in an earlier age — as that of tlie nineteenth century. What are our extensive railroads, covering like vast network of iron the surface of the earth, and alibrding such extraordinary facility to commerce and to the traveller, the pleasure-seeker and the tourist ; — what is that subtile and mysterious agent which carries communi- cations from one end of tlic world to the other, swift as the lightning's flash; which arrests the criminal on his guilty way, and enables men to converse together though the ocean rolls between them ; — what are the vast improvements in those instruments, by means of wliicli the human eye can penetrate into tlie starry sphere, and roam at will among the orbs of heaven ; — wjiat are all those ninncrous and astounding discoveries in clieraistry wliieh have thrown sucli light over the whole fieldof science ; — what are the various and interesting theories connected with geological research, which discover to us so much of the nature of the earth on which we live, and the diilercnt races of living creatures who have inhabited it ; what arc tliese, and many more wliiih iiii^jht be mentioned, but certain indications of tlie onwai-d iiiarrh of the light of truth and knowledge, and the ra]iid developement of the hu- man mind, and (lie progress of man towards perfection. 124 There is one circumstance more, too important to bo omitted ; namely, the growing and increasing connection of religion with the advance of mental enlightenment — how with the increase of human learning the knowledge of God has kept pace. That science which has made known the existence of far-off lands, had not completed its work till it had carried the missionaiy there, and unfurled beside the ensign of Eng- land the banner of the cross. This is a fact wliich cannot, must not, be overlooked in the history of our country. She is destined to fulfil a high and mighty purpose, to mould the minds of millions who shall hereafter spring from the colonies, and of generations yet un- born in lands where as yet no holy fane has reared its head towards heaven: and who shall be responsible for them but herself ? Let ns tlicn, as individuals, exert ourselves, (and may the nation as a body exert itself also), that our conduct may be sucli as to advance tjie glory of God, and the present and future welfare of mankind, cstablisliing everywhere the prin- ciple announced at the advent of our Redeemer — " Peace on earth and goodwill towards men."- THOUGHTS AND FEAGMENTS. Kind thoughts are flowers budding; in the heart ; Kind actions are those flow'rs in fullest bloom. It is to the dark cloud that we are indebted for the Bow of Promise ; and so it is often in the gloomy hour of adversity that God chooses to manifest Himself in a peculiar manner to His children. The gorgeous colours of the glorious rainbow are caused by the reflection of the sun's rays upon the falling rain : and some in hours of deepest sorrow, and amid fast falling tears, haye felt a joy too deep for utterance, and with which " a stranger may not intermeddle." The pale, silvery snowdrop droops its pearly head, clad in the robe of Innocence, bearing to man its silent lesson of purity and humility. Books are deep fountains, of which we drink to gain strength and courage to encounter the stormy voyage of life. There we read of those who have manfully struggled with the billows of Time until the shores of Eternity were gained ; and when we compare our troubles with theirs, it is Uke contrasting one thorn with a crown of thorns. The Past borne silently away upon the restless stream of Time, with its sorrowful look reproaches us for wasted hours. The Future comes with its countenance beaming \vith smiles, and as joyous as a bright spring morning ; oh, may it not depart without blessing us. The morn ever succeedeth to the night, and the night to the morn ; so sunshine and shadow alternately reign within the heart, like dream following dream in the labyrinthean chambers of slumber. 125 Staes are the sky's bright flow'rs ; they brighter shiue Upon a winter's night, oonipassiouing The dark, dull earth, that she hath sadly lost Her lovely stars, the fair and gladd'ning flow'rs. Mbmort is the spontaneous artist of the mind ; at a single thought her tablets glow with scenes which Time has long since buried in the grave of the Past. The soul is a ray of light streaming from Divinity. Oh, man, awake from thy shvmber ! God has endowed thee with a mind ; He hath blessed thee with talents for which thou wilt have to ren- der an account ; cultivate that mind, and employ those talents, for the present and eternal welfare of thy feOow-man. Demonstrate to the world that thou art, and to future generations that thou hast been ; let not thy name die with thee, and be buried in the grave of oblivion. Wb pine after the Future ; yet when it appears, how often do we wish it to depart ! We long for the eyes of a prophet, to pierce its mys- teries ; but it is wisely ordained by a kind Providence that we should not know what we have to suli'er and contend with. AN ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN. Fathomless Ocean, grand, unbounded deep. Par-spreading empire, changeless mystery, Majestic mirror of unimmber'd worlds, Thought-beaming impress of Divinity, Wide-rolling voice of the Omnipotent, Eloquent symbol of Eternity, Nature's sublimcst scene, her noblest page, ■Where God has written down His deathless Name ! Unfetter'd freeman, joyous traveller. E'er-reigning monarch, wealthy potentate ; Thou hold'st the stores of nations in thy grasp ; Thou art a glorious world within thyself; Thy subjects numberless, unknown, unseen ; Thy sway resistless, vast, victorious ; The waves thy weapons, crown'd with might and pow'r. Thou art the tomb of thousands, whose wild dirge Is loudly chanted by thy roaring winds. Deep arc the lessons thou hast taught to man, Unconquer'd conqueror of yielding earth. How grand thy voice, when 'mid th3 tempest's rage, In awful anger, fierce with passionate wTath, Thou roU'st thy deafning answers to his shrieks, And madly tossest to tlio rumbling clouds Thy fragile toys, tlio living-freighted sliips. Till they are torn to pieces, and go down With one despairing cry to thy dark depths. While bghtning-flames the solemn scene reveal. Heedless of uU the ties thy waves have rent. Unmindful of tlio hearts made desolate. The morrow's sunbeams find thee calm'd to smiles, Joyous as ever, singing a sweet song, Wnile gentle breezes whisper unto thee. 126 Each moment I expected she would wing Her glorious flight, and part the silver clouds, She look'd as she were not of mortal m.ould. Teaes are rich pearls ; the heart their ocean is ; And Thoughts are divers to its secret depths. Pale, thoughtful stars, how sorrowful ye look ! As if ye were the many wasted hours My immortal soul hath lost, set in the sky To gaze reproachfully upon me now. Dark shadows tremble in the quiet pool. Like troubled dreams in a fail- sleeping form. Music's sweet strains steal through my lonely heart. Unlock its fountains with their plaintive tones, UntQ my ev'ry thought is drowu'd in tears. Light hath conquered Darkness, and, overflowing with joy at her victory, she smiles upon the face of Nature until it becomes ra- diant with beauty. The birds awaken from their slumbers, and greet her with an universal song of praise. Rich music floats in golden strains From rose-enameU'd bow'rs. And in delicious melodies Streams o'er the jeweU'd flow'rs. Sweet rose-buds part their ruby Ups, And sip the pearly dew ; While sUv'ry gems in violets shine Like tears in eyes of blue. The sunset of Hope hath faded away. In the night of dark Despair. Memoet is fuU of joy and sorrow- — one moment radiant with smiles, and the next moment clouded with sadness. The scenes she awakens steal o'er our senses like an unforgotten melody. She holds in her hands two vessels — one containing sweets and the other bitters ; and if we taste of the one, we must taste of the other also. She is constantly unfolding a panorama to our view, upon which are vividly depicted the scenes of our past lives ; and as they pass and repass before our eyes, they cause tears to spring from the heart until ova sight grows diin, and we can gaze no longer. Who can gaze upon the roseate tints and dazzling splendour of the rising and setting sun mthout thinking of the Sun ot Righteousness, whose heavenly rays gUd and illuminate the celestial Kingdom. A bright thought darted in my lonely heart, Like a glad sunbeam in a darken'd room. The shadows tremble on the velvet sward. And white clouds float across the azure dome ; The trees wave to a whisp'ring melody. 127 Night's silver lumps have burnt their glory out. Tbute is the imperishable impress of Divinity. Death is commissioned to pluck the fairest flowers from the garden of earth, so that they may bloom iu amaranthine bowers above. Upon the garden of Gethsemane Fall agonizing drops of priceless blood, Rolling from the Eedeemer's burning brow At dead of night — fit hour for such a scene, — As earnestly He prays, and prays again, And yet again, in fainting heaviness, With soul unstain'd, but sorrowful as death, That from His lips the bitter cup might pass, Of which He has to drink, and cb-aiu the dregs. Thb mystical twilight deepens, And the shadows darker grow. Till the stain'd and pictured casement Loses its crimson glow ; — Till the scenes on the ancient arras A sombre veil assume ; — Till the stern old warriors' portraits Fade a^*?ly in the gathering gloom. THE SUX. WoRLD-CHBBBiNG Smile of Dcity, thou type Of the unsetting Sun of Kighteousness ; Life-giving, earth-arousing, changeless king. Mute monarch, but in silence iloquenl ; The heart of Nat ure, causing her rich blood Warmly to flow throughout her swelling veins; The grand and glory-beaiuing face of da}' ; Bridegroom of Summer, Spring's and Autumn's friend. Old Winter's visitor. Words of kindness life impart To the drooping, wither'd heart. Like to soft anjjct. It was truly a beautiful Lecture ou ' The Beautiful.' His fertile imagi- nation embraced ahnost every topic in which beauty is developed— at one time soaring into regions hitherto unpenetrated, and then touching upon things common to us all. His glowing eulogy upon the poetrj' and beauty of the Bible was one of the finestpiecesof oratory, fit to be placed side by side mth the noblest speeches of a Sheridan or a Burke. Every sentence flowed so smoothly, it makes us doubt the ruggeduess of our mother-tongue. Grandeur and thought of the highest description, and a beautiful simplicity, were the chief characteristics of his admirable dis- course. We can truty say that in the whole range of our experience (and we have heard the first lecturers of the day) we never listened to anything more calculated to raise the mind and ennoble the feelings. It was a lecture in the highest degree fitted for aU classes and conditions, for it abounded with sentunents suited to the minds of all. There was not an expression, nay, a thought, at which the most fastidious could cavil, and how rarely can this be said even of our most popular lecturers. There was a grandeur in its simpUcity, and a simplicity in its grandeur. The subjects upon which the Lecturer touched were as varied as his talents ai'e versatile, for he has employed his peu upon every branch of literature, and excelled in all. It is a Lecture that must bo heard to be appre- ciated ; our feeble pen is utterly incompetent to do justice to its merits, but we feel it a duty as well as a pleasure to say this much in its favour, confident that none can gainsay us, unless the modesty of the Lecturer should induce him to do so. The Chairman, iu proposing a vote of thanks, spoke in eloquent and highly eulogistic terms of theLeeture, and expressed a hope that tliey should have the pleasure of listening to anotherLecture by Mr. Gordon De Montgomery. The large and respectable audi 135 ence were deeply attentive, and frequently expressed their admiration by bursts of applause. We fervently hope every Institute in existence will in time enjoy the high privilege of being favoured with this Lecture." — Kensington Gazette, Dec. 5th, 1855. Extract from the Speech of the Chairman,on returning a vote of thanks to GoEDON De Montgomebt for his Leetare on ' The Beautiful,' de- livered at the ' NoETH West LoNDoy Chbistiau Litebaet Insti- tute,' 13/A February, and 8th May, 1855. " Never have I listened with half so much pleasure and admiration to any lecture delivered here as I have this evening. It is needless for me to ask if you have been pleased with it, for by your applause have you testified your delight. The Lecturer's richly poetical language must have thrilled your hearts, for he has given utterance to some of the most beautiful passages to which I ever bad the pleasure of listening. His Lecture is fuU of feeling, thought, beauty, and instruction ; and he has atimirably blended them together. The ideas are extremely beautiful, and the similes unsurpassable. Most warmly do I thank our highly talented friend for his very beautiful Lecture, for in language quite worthy of the theme has he depicted to us the beauties displayed in the works of our Creator and in the writings of the master-minds of earth ; he has unveiled the poetry and beauty of the Bible, he has wafted us in imagi- nation to the sunny fields, and spoken of the lovely flowers, the waving trees, the silvery streams, and the mighty ocean. Scarcely a subject has he left untouched, and he has beautified everything of which he has so eloquently discoursed. Sis Lecture comes like a garden in a desert,and never have I felt a greater desire to behold the glorious panorama of nature than at the present time ; for he has implanted within me a deeper love for the Beautiful. I understand Mr. Gordon De Montgomery has written some works, and if they are at all like his Lecture I am sure you will be delighted to peruse them." Extract from a Zetter by the Secretary of the ' KiirGSLATrD, DAtSTOiT, and Db Beauvoie Town Litebaby and Scientific Institution, to GoBDON De MoNTOOMEitT, respecting his Lccture on 'The Beautiful,' delivered there on the \ith March, and IZth Dec, 1855. "I congratulateyou most sincerely on the success yourLecture has met with; there can be no doubt of its intrinsic merit, and most cordially do I join in the applause its beautiful language and fine ideas must draw from the delighted hearers." Extract from the Speech of the Chairman, the Rev. It. T. Branson, at GoBDON De Montoomekt's Lecture on 'The Beautiful,' at the BusHET Young Men's Institute, July 1st, 1856. " I feel much pleasure in rising to propose a vote of thanks to the Lecturer for his highly entertaining and instructive lecture. I am sure ail of you have been higlJy gratified with it. For myself, I can say that I have derived the greatest pl(?asure in listening to his eloquent and ad- mirable discourse. Our best thanks are due (o Mr. Gordon De, Montgomery for his kindness in favouring us with liis presence ; and I hope we may soon have the pleasure of hearing him again." Kenton School. — " We understand that Gord In Wood or Stone. scTJx.:PTOI^, CHELTENHAM. A large assortment of Drawings and Models ready for Inspection. Monuments, Tombs, Italian Marble Chimney Pieces, &c. HEAD AND PLAT STONES. &c. I^OYJ^Ij SZOTEXj, HIGH STREET, CHELTENHAM. E. 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On tlie first of January, 1857, tlie Author of this Volume will issue a Penny Monthly Magazine ; each Number of which will contain a complete Tale, an Essay, Poems, Translations, Pevietvs, ^c, written iy himself. Se will also endeavour to obtain the services of some of the first Writers of the day, so that his Magazine may become a tvelcome visitor to every home. Six copies, post free, for seven stamps, ^ivehe copies for thirteen staynps. ' • "' Orders to be given to the Author, 4, Chapel Ter- race, Kensington. CD <: OQ ^' ^ f S — ( UNIVER% rjNYSOi^ ■ii ,S^ as s s ^ G =3 ^(?Aavaaii-^^ ^\WEUNIVER% ^ \WEUNIVER^ ^= '— n ) I >- -<