1
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 LAYS OF HOPE, 
 
 A SELECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 ORIGINAL POETRY, 
 
 BY 
 
 WILFRED. 
 
 "The world is full of Poetry— tlio nir 
 U living with its spirit ; and the waves 
 Dance to the music of its melodies, 
 And spurklc in its brightness.'* 
 
 Pen ivnl . 
 
 LONDON : 
 HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO., 
 
 WHITEHAVEN : 
 CROSTHWAITE AND CO., 
 
 1846.
 
 Cvogthvraitc 8c Co,, Printers, Whitehaven.
 
 
 TO MY FRIEND, 
 
 IN CHERISHED REMEMBRANCE OF THE PAST, 
 
 AND 
 
 IN TRUSTING HOPE FOR THE FUTURE, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS INSCRIBED. 

 
 PREFACE. 
 
 The title of this little volume expresses the sen- 
 timent which is prominently breathed throughout 
 its pages, as a kind of perpetual moral. Hope has 
 gleamed upon the writer's path through life — has 
 shone forth as the sun in his days of joyousness — 
 and cast a struggling and fitful radiance over his 
 darkest hours : it was but natural, then, that it should 
 be present in his rhymes, and impart an influence 
 to his fugitive song. 
 
 The writer may be permitted to hope that his 
 verses are not unmeaning, but that the purpose is 
 apparent in all. He has endeavoured to set a moral 
 before him ; and, though he has written uniformly 
 for himself, to encourage in heavenward progress, 
 to cheer in difficult duty, or to gladden in seasons 
 of trial, there may be those in the world — of like 
 thoughts and kindred passions — to whom his " Lays 
 of Hope" may prove at once a benefit and pleasure.
 
 V] PREFACE. 
 
 Some of the pieces contained herein have pre- 
 viously appeared. The writer, in thus re-printing 
 them, and allying them with later efforts, expects 
 no higher reward than he has already had in writing 
 them : 
 
 " O to create within the mind is bliss, 
 And shaping forth the lofty thought, or lovely, 
 W e gain a glimpse of Heaven." 
 
 But should his Book recall him to the remembrance 
 of his Friends when far away, or enable them to 
 commune in spirit when mountains tower between, 
 or should he, in any case, touch one chord of feeling, 
 wake one household memory, appeal to one home 
 affection, or once enter within the portals of the deep 
 heart's holy sanctuary, his desire is fulfilled. He 
 feels no high-reaching ambition, is not emulous of 
 extensive fame, nor courts he the tender mercies of 
 criticism. He desires, if his name be written, that it 
 should be on fleshly tablets : he would rather live in 
 hearts than on marble. 
 
 July 1846.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Apology for Rhyming 1 
 
 Hymn, from the German of J. G. Albums .... 2 
 
 Hymn, from the German of Tietze 4 
 
 Heart Sorrow 5 
 
 Mary Stuart, a Fragment 5 
 
 Dreams 7 
 
 Time 9 
 
 Missionary Hymn JO 
 
 To Jane 11 
 
 Lessons of the Sun 14 
 
 " 'Tis good for us to weep." \G 
 
 Holyrood 17 
 
 Tines on the Anniversary of a Mother's 
 
 Death 19 
 
 Fragmentary Translations, from German 
 
 Hymnology 21 
 
 Musings 23 
 
 What is Friendship? 32 
 
 Lines, written in the Grounds of Ravensworth 
 
 Castle, near Gateshead 32 
 
 To E. A. H 34 
 
 The Orphan 36 
 
 The Mossy Rose 38 
 
 The Dreamlet 40 
 
 Loch Leven 49 
 
 Answer to those who say "There is no 
 
 True Friendship" 41
 
 Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 The Three Portraits : — 
 
 Youth 45 
 
 Manhood 46 
 
 Age 46 
 
 The Peace of God 47 
 
 The Preference 49 
 
 A Fragment 51 
 
 Joy, a Fragment 52 
 
 Fragment 54 
 
 Soft o'er the Soul 55 
 
 Lines, expressive of the Writer's Feelings at the 
 
 Time they were written 57 
 
 Autumnal Musings 59 
 
 Spring 62 
 
 The Poet 65 
 
 The Apotheosis : — 
 
 The Message 68 
 
 The Ministering 69 
 
 The Legacy 69 
 
 The Expectation 70 
 
 The Approach 70 
 
 The Welcome 71 
 
 The Consolation 72 
 
 Hymn, from the German 72 
 
 " Passed away' ' 73 
 
 Lowdore 76 
 
 The Year's Requiem 79
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 &polo<ji> for iEijwmtncj. 
 
 Oft would I have been glad to know 
 Whate'er it is that prompts me so, 
 When aught of marriage, death, or birth, 
 Breaks the grave monotone of earth ; 
 Or, failing these, when aught is done 
 That I can twist a thought upon, 
 To seize them as they swiftly pass, 
 And of frail man, or fading grass, 
 Or falling leaf, or flying time, 
 To weave an unsubstantial rhyme. 
 The thing a question must remain 
 The Muse herself can scarce explain, 
 But simply thinks that numbers flow 
 (No matter whether smooth or no), 
 Whene'er a rhyming frenzy stirs 
 This wild and wayward child of her's. 
 My own idea is, perhaps, the best, 
 That, when with various woes opprest, 
 My heart would madly spurn relief, 
 And then, delirious in its grief, 
 Would writhe beneath its fretting yoke, 
 And brood o'er sorrow till it broke. 
 
 I!
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Kind Heaven the Muse divine imparts, 
 And thrones it in my "heart of hearts," 
 To chase the thronging forms of care, 
 And shed a kindlier presence there. 
 And oft, when o'er my burdened brain, 
 Too highly wrought and racked with pain, 
 Each day but brings its "fight" of sorrow 
 With no bright hope to cheer the morrow, 
 Till fancy droops, and judgment fails, 
 And reason trembles in the scales, — 
 The power of song — that gift divine — 
 O'erflows this troubled soul of mine, 
 And urges all its powers to raise 
 Their melodies of grateful praise ; 
 Till carking care and fevered pain 
 Bend, ravished listeners to the strain, 
 And Passion's giant self grows dim 
 Before the pealing spirit hymn. 
 
 Slmttn, 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF J. G. ALBINUS. 
 
 Do not in thine anger chasten, 
 God of Love, forbear! forbear ! 
 
 Let me not to ruin hasten, 
 
 From deserved vengeance spare ! 
 
 O ! look upon me, Lord, that I 
 
 May not beyond recovery die !
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Who in death the tribute raises ? 
 
 Can the dead in Thee rejoice ? 
 Through the charnel sound Thy praises ? 
 
 Hath the grave a grateful voice ? 
 
 save me now, that while I live 
 
 I endless praise to Thee may give ! 
 
 Foes ! ye can no longer grieve me ! 
 
 God my feeble prayer hath heard. 
 Faith hath conquered — Satan ! leave me ! 
 
 Banished by th' Almighty's word, — 
 That word which shall my soul restore, 
 And bid me go and sin no more. 
 
 Soul, arise ! thy bonds are broken, 
 Swift from all thy woes depart ; 
 
 Rest, of endless rest the token, 
 Steals across my throbbing heart. 
 
 A rest, like that the angels know, 
 
 Awaits me when from earth I go. 
 
 Come, then, Death, and let my spirit 
 Be by thy assistance freed ; 
 
 1 a brighter land inherit, 
 
 Where I shall be blest indeed ; — 
 And there I shall myself employ 
 In endless songs of praise and joy. 
 B 2
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF TIETZE. 
 
 Lo ! a sinner sore distrest, 
 
 Lord, I in Thy presence stand ; 
 
 Soothe the anguish of my breast, 
 Stay the judgments of Thy hand. 
 
 Mercy ! this my prayer shall be, 
 
 God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 Hear, oh hear my anxious cry, 
 Let my Father's heart attend; 
 
 Show Thy glorious face — may I 
 See and bless my faithful friend. 
 
 Mercy ! this my prayer shall be, 
 
 God, be merciful to me ! 
 
 Lord! how long shall I complain? 
 
 Hear' st thou not my piteous prayer? 
 Does my cry ascend in vain ? 
 
 Wilt thou not the sinner spare ? 
 Mercy ! this my prayer shall be, 
 God, be merciful to me !
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Thou hast heard — I cannot doubt — 
 Thou my cry hast surely heard ; 
 
 What poor soul hast Thou cast out ? 
 Lord, I trust Thy gracious word. 
 
 Mercy ! still my prayer shall be, — 
 
 God, be merciful to me! 
 
 3!cart J?on-oto. 
 
 Corporeal ills which men endure 
 'Tis in the power of men to cure; 
 But who can heal, or who control, 
 The deadly sickness of the soul ? 
 
 fHarn Stuart. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Her stem illustrious — born to wear 
 The crown of Scotland's kingdom fair- 
 
 Her stainless sword to wield ; 
 And all who dared dispute her right 
 Lie vanquished in the deadly fight, 
 
 Or flee the tented field.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 How bright the morn ! and yet how soon 
 'Twas followed by a clouded noon! 
 
 For treason filled the air, 
 And, like the simoom, fierce and fast, 
 On sped the fatal desert blast, 
 
 And wrought its ruin there. 
 
 Rejoice, her enemies — rejoice ! 
 For slander's foul accusing voice 
 
 Had poison in its dart ; 
 And those who madly sought her breath, 
 And hailed and gloated on her death, 
 
 But stilled a broken heart. 
 
 Unhappy Queen ! in thee we trace 
 The fortunes of thy fated race, 
 
 Thy sad ancestral line ; 
 The grief that storms without control, 
 The anguish of a Stuart's soul — 
 
 A Stuart's death, were thine. 
 
 With just contempt, with righteous scorn, 
 Shall generations yet unborn, 
 
 Shall ages, read thy doom. 
 Thy fair hopes blighted in the bud, 
 And monsters thirsting for thy blood, 
 
 The scaffold, and the tomb.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. / 
 
 JUvcamsl. 
 
 There are times in the brief and transient span 
 
 Which contains within it the life of man ; 
 
 When his soul's deep gloom is hid from his sight. 
 
 When his mind is calm, and his heart is light; 
 
 When the ardent wings of his fancy rise 
 
 To borrow the colours that paint the skies, 
 
 And with the celestial light they impart 
 
 To adorn the fretting woes of the heart, 
 
 Till the world, the grave of enjoyment, seems 
 
 A glowing and beautiful world of dreams. 
 
 I've dreamt I was there when the conflict roared, 
 And the field's pale light was the flashing sword, 
 And the wounded and dying gasped for breath, 
 And the banners of battle laughed at death; — 
 When the plume was razed, and the helmet bowed, 
 And valour received its reward — the shroud. 
 And oft I've exulted to view my form 
 Appoint the fierce carnage, and speed the storm. 
 I woke, and I shrank from the fame that bears 
 Man's bitterest curse in the wreath it wears, 
 And prayed that the glory I might shed 
 Might not be stained with the blood of the dead.
 
 8 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 I've dreamt that a nation her bonds had burst, 
 Which for ages a galling yoke had cursed; 
 Her sons in their pride had gathered to tell 
 Of a voice that had served them long and well ; 
 And the heavens are rent with their glad acclaim, 
 And they cleave the air with the honoured name. 
 And my heart by its quickened throbs made known 
 That the voice they praised was my own, my own. 
 It hailed the thought. There was nought to destroy 
 Its trembling and thrilling fever of joy, 
 But.the thought, that all the rewards of Fame, 
 Like visions of cloud-land, live but in name. 
 
 But there is a dream where thought may expand, 
 
 And wing its far way to a sunny land ; 
 
 A dream which goes not with darkness away, 
 
 But hails and absorbs the glories of day, 
 
 To which are but rayless, and dim, and faint, 
 
 All that eye hath beheld or mind can paint. 
 
 Then here let my dreams soar fearless and free, 
 
 Nor murmur at Death's unsparing decree, 
 
 But, when Heaven's splendours shall burst on my 
 
 view, 
 Deem it a proof that my dream has come true.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Ctmc. 
 
 I hail thee on thy course sublime. 
 Majestic, free, and rapid Time ! 
 What though thy never-ceasing flow 
 Has led me through dark clouds of wo ! 
 E'en when my soul refused relief 
 In mute insanity of grief, 
 I saw resplendent from afar 
 The twinkling of a precious star, 
 Bright herald of the glories worn 
 By the approaching brighter morn. 
 This, then, my consolation be 
 When tossed upon the billowy sea : 
 Bright dreams of bliss my soul shall form, 
 And bless the sun-light 'mid the storm. 
 And thus, as down thy stream I glide, 
 And float along thy ebbless tide, 
 The quenchless and aspiring ray 
 Of hope and memory light my way ; 
 And lest the waves my bark overwhelm, 
 Experienced friendship guides the helm. 
 Thus I'll my onward course pursue, 
 Keeping the promised land in view ;
 
 10 LAYS OF HOPE, 
 
 Till death its latest billows roll 
 Across my calm and patient soul, 
 And bear me on their breezeless breast 
 To its loved shores of endless rest. 
 
 fHfeStonarw $?i)mn. 
 
 What are those sounds — those sounds of wo, 
 
 "Which sigh across the sea ? 
 As if poor hearts were doomed to know 
 
 Their own deep agony. 
 
 What are they ? list — again is heard 
 
 That sharp and bitter cry, 
 What anguish wrings from every word, 
 
 " Oh help us, or we die !" 
 
 From every heathen land we hear 
 
 The same low, mournful song, 
 And every breeze that stirs the air 
 
 But wafts its notes along. 
 
 They're men that weep, and brethren prone 
 
 Like us to fear and sin ; 
 They've heard of Jesus, and they groan 
 
 To feel his power within.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. I 1 
 
 " Oh, send the Gospel," still they cry, 
 
 " Its health and blessing give ; 
 Oh, lift the brazen serpent high, 
 
 And bid us look and live !" 
 
 Help, Christians! pressing is the call, 
 
 Oh set the captive free ! 
 For the same Saviour died for all 
 
 That blessed and pardoned thee. 
 
 To earth's most distant nations shed 
 
 The richly-crimsoned flood, 
 Till all for whom our Jesus bled 
 
 Shall feel his sprinkled blood. 
 
 Till o'er the world his flag shall fly, 
 
 To all his life be given ; 
 Till sin shall cease, and death shall die, 
 
 And earth be turned to Heaven. 
 
 Co Sane. 
 
 Some blithely sing of Hope, whose sun 
 
 Gilds every earthly woe, 
 And o'er affliction's deepest wave 
 
 Erects her radiant bow ;
 
 12 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And as I mus'd, and thought what hopes 
 
 For thee my fancy drew, 
 A prospect of unsullied light 
 
 Came full upon my view; 
 Where round the throne of God there stood 
 
 A gay and joyous throng, 
 Who raised in warbling melody 
 
 Their music's sweetest song; 
 And, oh ! I hoped that you might join 
 
 Those choristers above : 
 Their anthem could not but be sweet ; 
 
 They sang that " God was Love!" 
 
 Some wish thee well, and I with them 
 
 Would gladly raise my voice, 
 And wish a still small voice of peace 
 
 May prompt thee to rejoice. 
 But, not content with this, I fain 
 
 Would raise my wishes higher, 
 And wish that in thy heart may glow 
 
 A flame of heavenly fire ; 
 And wish that Christ may be to thee 
 
 The loved one of thy soul, — 
 A holy life thy highest aim, 
 
 And heaven thy destined goal ;
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. I ''5 
 
 And wish that thy unblemished name 
 
 To all the world may prove 
 Thou lovest Him who bought thee with 
 
 A fixed and fervent love. 
 
 And then, but Heaven's happiness 
 
 Oh, how shall I rehearse ? 
 Or wing to such enraptured heights 
 
 My unambitious verse ? 
 Or how describe the gem-wrought crown, 
 
 And harp of burning gold ? 
 Ah, no ! those fadeless glories must 
 
 For ever be untold. 
 But this I know, that seraph's bliss, 
 
 That high and burning throne, 
 Shall you, if faithful, shortly be 
 
 Allowed to call your own ; 
 And there through endless ages shall 
 
 Your happy spirit rove, 
 Where hope's bright ivlsh is sweetly lost 
 
 In pure and perfect love.
 
 14 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 3Lcs'3oit£i of t\)t J^un. 
 
 I love with the earliest breath of morn, 
 When the first glad beam of the day is born, 
 And the garment of darkness night had worn 
 
 Is melted or fled, 
 To gaze on the Sun, as, shining and proud, 
 He burst through the bonds of his darksome shroud, 
 And his beams of glory adorn the cloud 
 
 With the light they shed. 
 
 For it calls up those bright and cherished days, 
 When a father's smile and a mother's praise 
 Could direct and fashion my infant ways, 
 
 And guide them aright ; 
 And when, in my rapture winged and wild, 
 I roamed at my pleasure a careless child, 
 And o'er the tear of my bitterness smiled, 
 
 For my heart was light. 
 
 I love, in the midst of a summer sky, 
 With the zephyrs playfully floating by, 
 To gaze on the Sun in his splendour high 
 
 In the heavens above ;
 
 LAYS OP HOPE. I 5 
 
 And view him, when glancing his burning beams. 
 He woos the gay flowers and placid streams, 
 And the face of enamoured Nature seems 
 To return his love. 
 
 For it tells me the forceful truth that now, 
 Ere the bloom of my youth forsakes my brow, 
 My knee and my heart should together how 
 
 To the Great Supreme. 
 That, as on my crucified Lord I call, 
 Some sparks of his love on my soul may fall, 
 And kindle its fires of feeling for all 
 
 He came to redeem. 
 
 I love in the mellow and cloud-crowned west, 
 Just over the ocean's tremulous breast, 
 To follow the dying Sun to his rest, 
 
 And see him expire ; 
 For the royal rays he flings o'er the main, 
 And the lingering light of his radiant train, 
 Are signs that he'll speedily rise again 
 
 On his throne of fire. 
 
 For it gives me a firm and glorious trust, 
 If I but walk in the path of the just, 
 That when I dissolve to my native dust, 
 
 And to earth am given,
 
 IG LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 My spirit, no longer compelled to roam, 
 
 Nor tossed by the rough sea's boisterous foam, 
 
 Shall joyfully float to its purchased home, 
 
 In heaven ! in heaven ! 
 
 " 'Ete gooti for u$ to fotq)." 
 
 " [t is good for me that I have been afflicted."— Ps. cxix, 71. 
 
 "lis good for us to weep 
 
 (Although regretful tears), 
 Lest haply sin should o'er us creep, 
 
 And blight our coming years : 
 Afflictions are designed 
 
 As blessings from above, 
 To chasten and to scourge the mind 
 
 With all their weight of love. 
 
 The weak and wayward heart 
 
 To earth so closely clings, 
 That heaven, in mercy, deigns to part 
 
 Us from our lovely things : 
 So, when our joys are slain 
 
 Beneath the angel's sword, 
 Our bleeding hearts repent, and paw 
 
 Reminds us of the Lord.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 17 
 
 God hath marked out our way, 
 
 lint when the sunbeams shine, 
 Too oft our willing feet would stray 
 
 Earth's fading flowers to twine ; 
 And when to leave the track 
 
 Our hearts would wildly roam, 
 He sends a storm to drive us back 
 
 To Him, and heaven, and home. 
 
 O soft, and sweet, and beautiful 
 The moonlight on thee streams ! 
 
 Illumining thy trellised pane 
 With her inconstant beams. 
 
 Methought that as I gazed upon 
 A scene so bright and fair, 
 
 No memory of guilt and blood 
 Could steal across me there. 
 
 And yet there was a fearful glimpse 
 Of darkened days of old, 
 
 When blood was spilt for policy, 
 And hearts were bought for gold. 
 c
 
 18 LAVS OF HOPE. 
 
 I caught the vision : — yes ! 'twas here 
 Where Mary wept and trod, 
 
 And wrestled with her anguish, and 
 Resigned her to her God. 
 
 'Twas here ! — thy walls were frowning on 
 
 The ever-shifting scene, 
 And gazed with silent pity on 
 
 The woman and the queen. 
 
 Thou saw'st the struggling agony 
 
 Which blanched that cheek of bloom, 
 
 And rested not till calmed within 
 The chill and cheerless tomb. 
 
 Eliza! now no longer boast 
 
 The lustre of thy name, 
 Let Hist'ry droop her daring wing, 
 
 And cease her praise in shame. 
 
 No longer let thy banner wave 
 
 In triumph o'er the flood, — 
 The murder of thy sister-queen 
 
 Hath crimsoned it with blood.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 19 
 
 But thou, oh reverend chronicler! 
 
 'Mid ruin fleet and fast, 
 Hast still the power to conjure up 
 
 These spectres of the past. 
 
 Old Time has marked thee for his own, 
 
 And tried his utmost skill : 
 Thou laughest at his reckoning, 
 
 And liv'st in sorrow still. 
 
 LINES 
 
 atoni&wtfarg of a fflottyx's Scatlj. 
 
 The twelfth of June, — the twelfth of June,- 
 
 Sad thoughts its memory brings, 
 Sad as the low and plaintive tune 
 
 The lonely night-bird sings; 
 For life-like sorrows of the past 
 
 Come rushing o'er my brain, 
 Aiid all their poisoned arrows cast, 
 
 And wound me o'er again. 
 c 2
 
 20 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 My Mother! oft of old thy smile 
 
 Has charmed me into rest ; 
 And robbed my spirit of its guile, 
 
 And made my boyhood blest ; 
 And, rising o'er my troubled mind, 
 
 I think I see thee now, 
 And love's pure light, serene and kind, 
 
 Is resting on thy brow. 
 
 But thou art gone ! and I am left 
 
 A heritage of tears, 
 My mourning soul, too soon bereft, 
 
 Thy smile no longer cheers ; 
 And bitterly the thought intrudes, 
 
 As through the world I roam, — 
 Its cities are but solitudes, 
 
 For I have lost my home. 
 
 Why didst thou die, my Mother ? why 
 
 Deprive me of my guide ? 
 Oh ! oft with aching heart I sigh 
 
 And grieve that thou hast died ; 
 For, what with frowning skies above, 
 
 And struggling fears within, 
 I'm sure I need a Mother's love 
 
 To woo my soul from sin.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. '21 
 
 But, mother, thou art happier far ! 
 
 Thou standest near the throne, 
 And I must wage my spirit's war, 
 
 And brave the world alone ; 
 Then, oh, let thy pure spirit be 
 
 For ever hovering near, 
 And in all trial whisper me — 
 
 "Thy Mother watches here." 
 
 ^Fragmentary CranSlationsf 
 
 FROM GERMAN HYMNOLOGY. 
 I. 
 
 Calvary ! to thy steep brow 
 
 Oft my heart's deep love shall rise; 
 
 What blest victim on thee dies ? 
 Holy one of God, 'tis Thou ! 
 Streams the mount with blood divine ! 
 
 Jesus hath th' atonement wrought, 
 
 By his death my spirit bought ; 
 Lord ! my soul, my all, are thine. 
 
 II. 
 
 O love ! that Heaven did rend, 
 
 And stooped so low, 
 And made Thyself the sinner's friend, 
 A man of woe !
 
 22 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 How didst Thou greatly bleed, 
 
 And faint, and die ! 
 That I, for refuge in my need, 
 
 To Thee might fly ! 
 
 Protection at thy word 
 
 Is round me flung, 
 As when the wing'd mother-bird 
 
 Shelters her young. 
 
 III. 
 
 Saviour ! ere from Thee we part, 
 Shew Thy faithful brother-heart ; 
 Help us in our pain of sin, 
 Place us Thy cleft side within. 
 Though by wretchedness opprest, 
 Thou canst give our spirits rest; 
 Let the shouts Thy temple fill, 
 Christ receiveth sinners still. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fear not, my soul ! nor let the vale, 
 The gloomy vale of death affright, 
 For, when all earthly hope shall fail, 
 "At even-tide there shall be light."
 
 LAYS OF HOPK. 
 
 23 
 
 The latest groan of Christian hearts 
 Is carried Heaven's high host among, 
 And forms, ere yet the breath departs, 
 The key-note of angelic song. 
 
 Thou art far more than human ! — thine 
 
 Is no low lot of mortal strife, 
 
 For into thee the spirit Divine 
 
 "Has breathed the breath of" endless "life. 
 
 Immortal ! though, by high command, 
 Awhile on earth compelled to roam, 
 In Heaven is yet thy father-land, 
 And death the wing that wafts thee home. 
 
 Thou potent Monarch, whose unnoticed sway 
 
 Man's countless millions silently obey! 
 
 Thou leav'st the noiseless traces of thy power 
 
 On fallen pyramid and ruined tower; 
 
 Thou laugh' st to scorn what human wisdom rears, 
 
 Its works o'erwhelming 'mid the wrecks of years; 
 
 Thy wasting sceptre crumbled cities own. 
 
 And earth's proud grandeur bows before thy throne,
 
 24 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And mighty nations, from their centres hurled, 
 Proclaim thee unknown conqueror of the world. 
 And tho' less startling, yet as strangely true, 
 The rolling seasons bring thy power to view : 
 Spring makes her meadows vocal with thy name, 
 And summer's glories burn to speak thy fame ; 
 Autumn's abundance sheds thy prowess forth, 
 And winter owns thee from her farthest north ; 
 And gladsome day, and dark and sombre night 
 Afford undoubted tokens of thy flight ; 
 And every age, and every varying clime, 
 Thy steps make manifest, age-crested Time. 
 
 'Twas thus I mused, as sweetly stole 
 A pensive slumber o'er my soul, 
 And faint and wearied and opprest, 
 I welcomed Nature's wonted rest; 
 But though the power of sleep retains 
 The body with her viewless chains, 
 She cannot grasp, she dare not bind 
 The strength of the immortal mind ; 
 It scorns all bounds, no force can keep 
 Its mighty energies asleep, 
 It leaves its keeper slumbering still, 
 And ranges through the world at will, 
 Its heralds, ever on the wing, 
 For ever fresher tidings bring ;
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And like the dove, that, from the ark, 
 Traversed a world both drear and dark, 
 And finding all its labour vain, 
 Just plumed its wing for home again, 
 They come, yet bring some branch at last 
 In treasured memory of the past ; 
 Then, by the lustre of their eye, 
 Into the future's caves they pry ; 
 And both into one fiction wrought, 
 And gilded with the gold of thought, 
 And clad in rapture's buoyant dress, 
 And diamonded with happiness, 
 Present to our enraptured sight 
 A paradise of shadeless light, 
 Where all is visioned as we would 
 In blessings of unuttered good ; 
 And then we fondly think we've found 
 That spot of consecrated ground — ■ 
 That home of blessedness confest — 
 That seat of everlasting rest, 
 To which our frequent thoughts aspire 
 In fervent pangs of strong desire. 
 But soon, too soon, our hopes decay, — 
 They vanish with the break of day ; 
 But soon, too soon, the vision flies, 
 Dispersed by morning's earliest skies ; 
 
 25
 
 26 LAYS OP HOPE. 
 
 The towering castles of our trust 
 Are crumbled to their native dust, 
 And that fair rainbow, whose bright ray 
 Illumined for awhile our way, 
 And, by some strangely potent art, 
 Transferred its colours to our heart, 
 Melts, like the meteor's transient gleam, 
 Or shadow of a baseless dream. 
 And who shall e'er presume to tell 
 The feelings which the bosom swell 
 When the heart wakes and feels alone, 
 Its prospect dark, its visions gone ? 
 The warring elements of woe, — 
 The grief no stranger's heart can know,— 
 The dark misanthropy of care, — 
 The breathing anguish of despair. 
 Ah, no ! let fancy swiftly fly, 
 And soar in search of mystery, 
 In vain her efforts, firm and bold, 
 'Twill ever be a tale untold. 
 
 But now my soul, in dreamy strife, 
 Broods on th' uncertainty of life, 
 And mourns that legioned hosts of woes 
 Can early blight its fragrant rose ;
 
 LAYS OK HOPE. '27 
 
 Or passion's stormy tempest flood 
 Destroy the beauties of its bud ; 
 Or racking care's destructive power 
 Wither the graces of its flower. 
 How swiftly, with unerring course, 
 Existence rushes to its source ! 
 Behold ! in joyous rapture wild, 
 That bud of bliss, that beauteous child, 
 Whose brow is bright with all the truth 
 That glitters from untainted youth, 
 Ere yet the world her mantle flings 
 O'er Nature's pure and lovely things ; 
 And, while in silence you admire 
 His eye of light, his soul of fire, 
 The vision changed — time onward ran — 
 That guileless youth is stamped a man ; 
 And with increasing years he feels 
 Increasing anguish o'er him steals, 
 And Time's dominion stands confest 
 In every pang that rends his breast, 
 And volumes of his prowess speak 
 On wrinkled brow and furrowed cheek. 
 And while his woes your thoughts engage 
 The man declines to helpless age, 
 Who for a lapse of years has borne 
 Pride, envy, hatred, malice, scorn ;
 
 28 
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 The taunt of power, the crushing frown, 
 That bears the sinking spirit down, — 
 The troubled heart, the many tears 
 That dim the eyes of threescore years ; 
 And, while your pity o'er him sighs, 
 Once more he groans, and, groaning, dies ! 
 And then this scene of guilt and gloom 
 Is ended in the silent tomb. 
 
 Since, then, our days so swiftly fly, 
 That all who live, but live to die ; 
 Since, then, the flowers from year to year 
 But bloom to scent our sepulchre ; 
 Since, then, the winds that round us wave 
 Are gently breathing o'er our grave ; 
 Oh ! should we not our mind restrain 
 From thoughts of earthly pride or gain, 
 Gaze on the light by Heaven displayed, 
 And catch its brightness ere it fade ; 
 Follow the beams which Truth has shed 
 With ceaseless and untiring tread; 
 Keep in the bright and beaconed track, — 
 Look not around, and look not back, — 
 Till we shall pierce the gloom which night 
 Throws o'er our spirits, — and the light,
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 29 
 
 Whose mantling glories round us roll, 
 
 Dispel the midnight from the soul ! 
 
 Then with more light we soon shall prove 
 
 The fervour of increasing love ; 
 
 The snow around our hearts should melt 
 
 In blessings by our brethren felt ; 
 
 Our eyes, the mirrors of our mind, 
 
 Should flash with love to all mankind. 
 
 Oh ! where's the abject, who has thought 
 
 (Because his fleeting life is fraught 
 
 With change) that all that he hath known 
 
 Was given him for himself alone ? 
 
 No ! no ! the showers of love that fall 
 
 Descend in equal drops on all; 
 
 The living sunbeam sweetly plays 
 
 That all may sport amid its rays ; 
 
 And man, designed by Nature's laws 
 
 To labour in his fellow's cause, 
 
 Should rouse him from the ties that bind 
 
 The feelings of his dormant mind, 
 
 Till all mankind shall join to bless 
 
 The almoner of happiness. 
 
 Nor is it only Duty's voice 
 
 That calls us to this noble choice ; 
 
 But Friendship, gentle Friendship, brings 
 
 Her calm and kind admonishings ;
 
 30 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And Pleasure, flower-crowned Pleasure, shines 
 
 A sunny smile on such designs. 
 
 For who can tell what raptures spring 
 
 From those delights which friends can bring ? 
 
 How sweet, when joy the heart beguiles, 
 
 To look at Friendship's answering smiles ! 
 
 Or, when oppressed by grief and fear, 
 
 Behold a friend's responsive tear ! 
 
 Earth cannot boast of purer bliss, 
 
 Of richer happiness than this. 
 
 Let monarchs prize their mines of gold, 
 
 Their wealth of navies, men untold, 
 
 Or, in their pomp of hungry pride, 
 
 View their broad lands extending wide, 
 
 Or glory in the trumpet sound 
 
 Which peals their names the world around ; 
 
 Let worldlings all their lives employ 
 
 In tasting earth's polluted joy ; 
 
 The better, holier task be mine 
 
 To watch at Friendship's sacred shrine ; 
 
 To soothe the stricken, mourning heart, 
 
 Wounded by Slander's venomed dart; 
 
 To ease the sad and bleeding soul, 
 
 Where passion storms without control ; 
 
 Or from another's mind reflect 
 
 The light of kindred intellect,
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And in sweet interchange of thought 
 Repeat the lessons life has taught, 
 Till, every shade of difference gone, 
 Our souls shall mingle into one. 
 I envy not the stoic's lot, 
 Who in life's desert knows no spot, 
 No calm and bright and fertile scene, 
 For ever fresh, for ever green ; 
 Who makes his mind a hermit's cell, 
 Contented by himself to dwell, 
 And never from his pride descends 
 To smile on men and make them friends. 
 What ! never let the flashing ray 
 Of kindred genius light my way ! 
 Are never friends, to memory dear, 
 The sorrows of my soul to cheer ? 
 Shall friendship ne'er infuse its balm 
 An orphan's troubled heart to calm ? 
 What ! never, never, hope to prove 
 The bliss of pure and trusting love ! 
 Oh ! I would rather yield my breath, 
 And court disease, and welcome death, 
 Than live in daily hope of seeing 
 This mocking mimicry of being, 
 And drag my life's dull burden on 
 Without a friend to lean upon. 
 
 31
 
 32 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 No ! if I err, the fault shall be 
 Not in my spirit's apathy ; 
 But those who know my heart shall tell 
 That I have loved, and loved too well. 
 
 Mljat i$ dfricntJSfjip ? 
 
 Friendship ! a flower of fadeless hue, 
 Which Heaven on earth has deigned to strew ; 
 Friendship ! the star that brightly smiled 
 To lead the shepherds to the child ; 
 Friendship ! the bow that, type of love, 
 Refracts the sunbursts from above ; 
 Friendship ! a bright and pearly gem 
 From God's eternal diadem. 
 
 Hints 
 
 Written in the grounds of Ravensworth Castle, near Gateshead. 
 
 Ill this little rustic glade, 
 'Neath the spreading plane-tree's shade, 
 Circled by ten thousand charms, 
 Purest joy my spirit warms.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 33 
 
 Nature, bounteous, blithe, and gay, 
 Gives her vassals holiday; 
 Heaven in mercy lends the view, 
 Arching skies of brightest blue ; 
 Youthful summer gives the scene, 
 Verdant robes of richest green ; 
 All, with endless moral rife, 
 Speaks of beauty, bliss, and life. 
 What a holy calm is here ! 
 Surely to the Christian ear 
 All is voiceful, and it pays 
 Tributes of adoring praise : 
 Now it whispers through the trees, 
 Sighs in every passing breeze ; 
 Songsters of the grove and tree 
 Wake responsive minstrelsy ; 
 Brooklets, as they glide along, 
 Sing the same rejoicing song, 
 Till the hymn with swelling tone 
 Breaks before th' Eternal Throne. 
 Sure no demon of unrest 
 Here can haunt my peaceful breast 1 
 Sure no fever of the soul 
 Here can burn without control ? 
 When all Nature is so glad 
 How can restless man be sad I 
 
 D
 
 34 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Peace, thou raging spirit-storm ! 
 Hide for aye thy crested form ! 
 Nature's universal voice 
 Bids my troubled heart rejoice, 
 Tells in tones most sweet and clear 
 Of my Saviour's presence here ; 
 All around, beneath, above, 
 Breathes of God, and breathes of Ion . 
 
 Eo 15. a. fc. 
 
 When o'er thy mind are stealing 
 
 Soft dreams of peace and rest, 
 And hope, and love, and feeling, 
 
 Conspire to make thee blest, 
 I would not sing of sadness, 
 
 Nor gloomy garlands twine, 
 To shade the breathing gladness 
 
 Of such a heart as thine. 
 
 But oft we see, while fleeting 
 Through few and troubled years, 
 
 Both hearts too wildly beating, 
 And eyes too dim for tears ;
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. .'>.") 
 
 And though hright rays of blessing 
 
 Arc gleaming o'er thee now, 
 Yet care will soon be pressing 
 
 Its shadows on thy brow. 
 
 And when dark clouds of sorrow 
 
 Are gathering o'er thy mind, 
 And in the coming morrow 
 
 Lie fiercer woes behind, 
 Oil, lift the trembling spirit 
 
 All earthly thoughts above, 
 And wait till thou inherit 
 
 A rest of deeper love ! 
 
 On earth a passing stranger, 
 
 Where'er thy footsteps roam, 
 E'en through reproach and danger, 
 
 Toil on to reach thy home ; 
 Till, as in peaceful slumbers, 
 
 Thy soul shall glide along 
 To swell those lofty numbers 
 
 Which Hood all heaven with song.
 
 36 LAYS OP HOPE. 
 
 €l)t ©rpfjan. 
 
 I had a Father once, whose eye 
 
 With kindling rapture smiled, 
 As in his heartful tenderness 
 
 He gazed upon his child ; 
 But fever flapped her burning wing, 
 
 And breathed upon his breast, 
 And, weary of his wandering, 
 
 He turned away to rest. 
 
 I had a Mother once, who, when 
 
 Her heart for me was sad, 
 Would breathe her soul in prayer that heaven 
 
 Would deign to " bless the lad ;" 
 But Death, who envied me the prayer, 
 
 Soon hushed its fervent tone, 
 And left me in my wretchedness 
 
 An Orphan, and alone. 
 
 I had a home too once, where then 
 
 The voice of joy was heard ; 
 I feel e'en now the memories 
 
 That throng upon the word ;
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 37 
 
 Pure happiness was nestled there, 
 
 Love spread its sheltering wing ; 
 Our hearts from out their treasure-caves 
 
 Rich pleasures used to bring. 
 
 But bitterly I feel that these 
 
 Are visions of the past ; 
 They faded as the dying leaf 
 
 Before the wintry blast. 
 The trees of life, whose healing grace 
 
 My heart had tried and known, 
 Are withered in their loveliness, 
 
 And I am left alone. 
 
 But is there not a place of light 
 
 Beyond the silent tomb, 
 Where faith may fly, and o'er the soul 
 
 May fling a wreath of bloom ? 
 Oh, yes ! there is — its glories now 
 
 Are flashing o'er my mind 
 Bright glimpses of that better land, 
 
 Which I have longed to find. 
 
 Tlure are my heart's beloved ones ; 
 
 They left me but awhile, 
 To be my angel ministers, 
 
 And cheer me with their smile ;
 
 38 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And, more than all, He pities me 
 Who sits upon the throne ; 
 
 While Thou ami they are with me, Lord, 
 I cannot be alone. 
 
 TO E. P. B. 
 
 When once bright Fancy plumes her wing, 
 And breathes a yet unuttered thing, — 
 And o'er the brain, late dark, and dull. 
 Come visions of the beautiful, 
 Lest they be stifled in the birth, 
 We marry them to things of earth, 
 And seek some object loved and real 
 To bring to mind the fair ideal ; — 
 
 And, this once done, our heart concludes 
 A host of bright similitudes, 
 And such rich beauties o'er us strike 
 As being to that lov'd object like, 
 That, when the whole stands out to view, 
 We lose the visioned in the true. 
 Many there are whose souls are blest, 
 Of earth the loveliest, brightest, best,
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 39 
 
 Whose rich warm hearts, 'mid scorn and strife, 
 Sun o'er the frost-gemmed lake of life, — 
 Hearts, such as heaven to earth might send 
 To wear the royal name of friend ; 
 And when their type we seek to trace 
 'Mong things of life, and love, and grace, 
 A mossy rose, on sheltering stem, 
 Hath marvellously imaged them. 
 
 A mossy Rose ! — this Queen of Flowers, 
 Profits alike from suns and showers ; 
 Suns shine — it sparkles in their light ; 
 Rains fall — they make its leaves more bright ; 
 And, wooed by both, it swiftly grows 
 From blushing bud to blooming rose; 
 And this — its life — may surely be 
 Like thee, my friend, like thee. 
 
 A mossy Rose ! — alas ! how fast, 
 Nipped by the venom-breathing blast, 
 Its varied beauties droop and die. 
 And when the pensive passer-by 
 Asks for the colours bright and gay, 
 They are but things of yesterday ; 
 And this — its death — must also be 
 Like thee, my friend, like thee.
 
 40 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 A mossy Rose ! — doth it, then, shed 
 No fragrance after it is dead ? 
 Hath it not often filled the tomb 
 With odours and undying bloom ? 
 O yes ! and here I breathe a prayer, 
 Not breathed in vain, nor spent in air, 
 That this — its better life — may be 
 Like thee, my friend, like thee. 
 
 €i)e Srtamlft. 
 
 In sleep I lay : across my pensive mind 
 
 A shadowy dreamlet stole, 
 Flushing the heart with visions warm and kind, 
 Thrilling the soul. 
 
 It spake of youth, that wild and fitful morn 
 
 Of mingled smiles and showers, 
 Whose every thought is gemmed with dew when born, 
 Or crowned with flowers. 
 
 It told of friendship — sign of promise bright, 
 
 Like rainbow's lovely form, 
 Which in the heart's dark moments flings its light 
 Across the storm.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 41 
 
 It sang of joy of every shape and name 
 
 That changeful man can prove; 
 The swell of power, the fevered breath of fame, 
 The love of love. 
 
 And then it pictured scenes of grief and gloom, 
 
 O'er it there passed a change ; 
 And like sweet music floating round a tomb, 
 Solemn and strange, 
 
 It sighed of age, when, silvered o'er with time, 
 
 The old man gasps for breath, 
 Thinks of the days when he was in his prime, 
 And thinks of death. 
 
 It lisped of sorrow, bitter griefs and fears, 
 
 Rare forms of fretting woe, 
 Which charge the heart with madness and with tears, 
 And lay it low. 
 
 It spake of death — the calm and awful dead — 
 
 Where once the wild eye rolled 
 The worm was banqueting ; the aching head 
 Was still and cold.
 
 4'2 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 The former things had made me gay and glad, 
 
 High feelings o'er me crept; 
 But these last visions were so true and sad, 
 I grieved and wept ; 
 
 When, lo ! a glory on my visions broke, 
 
 Gleamed on the path I trod, 
 And a bright cloud of living light bespoke 
 The Son of God. 
 
 I listened ; — o'er the air kind accents float, 
 
 So clear, so sweet the tone, 
 It seemed as if rich music's every note 
 Was blent in one. 
 
 The Saviour smiled and spake ; — 'twas but a word, 
 
 It breathed of hope and balm ; 
 The storm that strove within my spirit heard, 
 And " it was calm." 
 
 Hod) llcbm. 
 
 Loch Leven ! when thy banks I see, 
 They bear me back to elder time, 
 
 When, linked with thy proud keep and thee, 
 Were deeds of darkest crime.
 
 LAYS OK HOPE. 4.'! 
 
 What gems adorn thee, richly wrought 
 From treasure hoards of other years ? 
 
 Loch Leven ! canst thou hear the thought ? 
 Thy gems are royal tears. 
 
 Whene'er thy glassy waters shew 
 
 The image of thy castle crest, 
 Say, doth no memory of woe 
 
 Ruffle thy peaceful breast ? 
 
 Doth no sad lake-nymph flit along, 
 And bid thee list the captive's sigh ? 
 
 Doth no reproachful zephyr's song 
 Breathe " Mary" ere it die ? 
 
 Doth not the shade of eve, which falls 
 
 On all the richly wooded scene, 
 Hang darkly on thy castle walls 
 
 In mourning for thy Queen ? 
 
 " But, stranger, mine was not the blame," 
 
 I hear thy wave indignant swell — 
 ■ The Douglas bear the blight and shame— 
 " I loved the Queen too well.
 
 44 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 " Assistance to her flight I gave, 
 "I stilled the tempest's sullen roar, 
 
 " And eager bade each rippling wave 
 "To speed her boat on shore." 
 
 Thou didst, thou didst, I trust thee now, 
 For surely ne'er such generous gleam 
 
 As the bright sun sheds o'er thy brow 
 Could shine on perjured stream. 
 
 And even yet thy billows blue 
 Tell, as they lave thy castled isle, 
 
 That Nature's heart beat firm and true, 
 Though man was false and vile. 
 
 To those who say 
 
 "THERE IS NO TRUE FRIENDSHIP." 
 
 With such I speak not ! — let them run their race, 
 And basely glory in their kind's disgrace ; 
 Yea, let the wretches, friendless and forlorn, 
 Or shake the head, or curl the lip of scorn ;
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 45 
 
 / turn within, and graven on my mind 
 
 I see the images of friends enshrined, 
 
 And find that each fond relic makes them known 
 
 As radiant stars in Memory's burning throne : 
 
 Thus, then, their faith and practice I defy ; 
 
 'Tis my own heart that gives their creed the lie. 
 
 €l)e Eljrcc ^portraits. 
 
 YOUTH. 
 
 Oh, warm and sunny is the ray 
 That lights a smiling summer's day ; 
 And bright as summer are the beams 
 Which shine on Childhood's fairy dreams, 
 When new-born Fancy's wings unfold, 
 And scatter round their hues of gold, 
 Investing earth, and sky, and sea, 
 In rich and royal pageantry: — 
 But soon, too soon, as knowledge grows, 
 It breaks the heart's serene repose ; 
 But soon, too soon, the dream is gone, 
 And lost the joy it revelled on, 
 And but a shadow stays to cast 
 Some dim perception of the past, 
 And fling upon the warm heart's glee 
 A strange and solemn mockery.
 
 AG LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 MANHOOD. 
 
 Oh, proud and awful is the roar 
 Of angry ocean on the shore ! 
 And stern as ocean is the pride 
 Which doth in Manhood's breast abide. 
 The castle built above the cloud, — 
 The trumpet sounding long and loud, — 
 The breath of fame, the grasp of power ;— 
 These, these are Manhood's chosen dower. 
 But soon the vision fades, and then 
 The dreamer falls to earth again ; 
 His Babel towers are all o'erthrown, 
 His heart is fallen, crushed, alone ; 
 Saving when mocking Memory brings 
 Her record of forgotten things, 
 And her grim spectres will intrude 
 To haunt and vex its solitude. 
 
 AGE. 
 
 Oh, sweet and pleasing is the gleam 
 Of moonlight on a village stream ! 
 And soft as moonliglit is the voice 
 Which bids an old man's heart rejoice ; 
 • Which brings before his failing sight 
 
 Rich thoughts of fame and past delight,
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 47 
 
 And bids him look to future days 
 For sweeter joy and richer praise ; 
 But, as he thinks on former years, 
 Their wakened visions bring but tears, 
 For grief has strewn his path, and care 
 Has left the trail of sorrow there ; 
 And, as of future bliss he dreams, 
 He dies ; — and then an echo seems 
 To float like music o'er the sea, 
 And laugh at this world's vanity. 
 
 €I;p. $race of <&oo\ 
 
 I've heard them tell sad tales of former years; — 
 How War arose, and blew his trump of death, 
 And at the sound brave warriors lost their breath, 
 
 And widows sighed, and orphans' silent tears 
 Began to flow, and o'er our country flushed 
 
 A clashing host of blended hopes and fears ; — 
 And how her warm blood all the fleeter rushed, 
 And how she mourned her sons, whose life had 
 gushed 
 
 Forth in her cause, and grieved that they had died ; 
 And yet how stately was her grief ! — serene 
 She sat in sorrow, like a mourning queen, 
 
 In whose rent bosom struggle pain and pride.
 
 48 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 They told me, too, that when the haughty foe 
 Was slain or fled, and when the war was o'er, 
 And the fierce trumpet blast was heard no more, 
 
 How the world started from its dream of woe, 
 And how a stream of richer, gayer life, 
 
 A nobler feeling — such as angels know — 
 
 Flowed through the land, when once the word was 
 
 rife, 
 That heaven had hushed the turbulence of strife ; 
 
 And how our father-land again was blest, 
 
 When, as the zephyr woos the opening flower, 
 There came a breathing of Almighty Power, 
 
 Which stilled the storm, and smiled it into rest. 
 
 I had been musing on that blessed scroll, 
 Which, by almighty inspiration given, 
 Points the poor pilgrim's way from earth to heaven ; 
 
 And oft I wondered, how across the soul 
 
 There flowed the Peace of God, as in a stream — 
 
 And oft how softly o'er the spirit stole 
 Celestial light, just like the kindly gleam 
 Which smiles upon a sleeping infant's dream ; 
 
 When stilled is all so lately stern and wild, 
 For a bright Being of unearthly form 
 Has frowned upon the spirit of the storm, 
 
 And awed it, as a father does his child.
 
 LAYS OK HOPE. 49 
 
 And, as I wondered, oft I sought to find 
 In that deep, settled, heart- reviving peace 
 Which glads a nation when its discords cease, 
 
 Some type of that which fills a Christian mind, 
 But sought in vain ; for, far as he whose gaze 
 
 Is nearest God, the first of angel-kind — 
 
 Transcends the meanest worshipper, who lays 
 His spirit in the dust, and stammers praise, 
 
 So far is earth from heaven ; and as I trod 
 The path of life with humble step and slow, 
 I sought no more to trace in aught below 
 
 What passeth knowledge, e'en the "Peace of God." 
 
 €I)c preference. 
 
 Sweet is the morn, when Nature yields 
 
 The incense of her fragrant breathing, 
 And spring's young dew-drops o'er the fields 
 
 Their coronets of light are wreathing ; 
 And when each song-bird on the tree 
 
 With joyous instinct flies along, 
 And wakes the woodland minstrelsy 
 
 In bursts of rich and thrilling song;
 
 50 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And when the sun essays to rise, 
 
 "With fringe of light the clouds adorning, 
 
 And flings his Mushes o'er the skies, 
 
 And gems the costly robe of morning, — 
 
 'Tis sweet, because its glory brings 
 
 Thoughts of earth's best and brightest things. 
 
 But sweeter far when in the west 
 
 The wearied sun in state is lying, 
 And song-birds, ere they sink to rest, 
 
 Just pour a requiem o'er his dying, — 
 And when the trees their branches hide, 
 
 And grieving flowers their petals fold, 
 And western clouds in castled pride 
 
 Are crimsoned with celestial gold ; — 
 For, though the morning sun-light plays 
 
 Around earth's gay and blooming bowers, 
 The evening shadow sweetly strays 
 
 In richer groves, 'mong sweeter flowers ; — 
 Thai light is light of Earth, but this 
 Robs Heaven itself of light and bliss.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 51 
 
 & ^fragment. 
 
 Who hath not noticed 
 
 The storm-cloud of wrath ? 
 What desolate hearts 
 
 It strips in its path ! 
 Hearts that once smiled in 
 
 The gladness of joy, 
 It lays in the dust, 
 
 And hastes to destroy. 
 
 Thus oft is the heart 
 
 Bereft of its stay, 
 And hopes which it hreathed 
 
 Are lost in decay ; 
 The fancy, whose flights 
 
 Once made it be glad, 
 Now droops on its wing, 
 
 Is fallen and sad. 
 
 But why should we mourn ? 
 
 Though the simoom's breath, 
 Like frown of a God 
 
 Is laden with death ; 
 E 2
 
 52 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 'Tis but for awhile 
 We suffer and groan, 
 
 And the storm hath past, 
 And the breath hath blown. 
 
 Thunder that frightens, 
 
 But renders more pure ; 
 Danger but prompts us 
 
 To make all secure ; 
 E'en is the lightning 
 
 That shatters the clod 
 The chariot of fire 
 
 That bears us to God. 
 
 $oi>. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Joy ! Joy ! 
 Sang a happy, guileless, laughing boy. 
 Joy ! that must be an ailing mind, 
 That in this world no joy can find. 
 Are not the woods with gladness full ? 
 Breathe not winds of the beautiful ? 
 Hath not the moon a dimpled beam 1 
 Sports not joy in the rippling stream ?
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. . r ),'i 
 
 Hath not the wave a blissful dower? 
 Doth not the zephyr glad the flower? 
 Doth not a joy-beam, bright and wild, 
 Hang entranced o'er the baby child ? 
 Lights it not, as it only can, 
 The pale cheek of impassioned man ? 
 
 Joy ! Joy ! 
 
 Sang the fervent boy : 
 What though the broadening shadows fall, — 
 Sunset's dyes are the best of all. 
 Still to the old man's trembling gaze, 
 Linger the "lights of other days." 
 Hot tears may dim the eyes all night, — ■ 
 Joy will come with the blush of light. 
 What though the storm-cloud breaks the view,— 
 The lightning lets the glory through ; 
 And e'en if death the future glooms, 
 The sweetest flowers can spring from tombs. 
 
 Joy! joy! 
 Joy ! he sang, and his young lip curled, 
 Scorning thought of a joyless world.
 
 54 LAYS OP HOPE. 
 
 ^Fragment. 
 
 Being the conclusion of a Poetical Epistle, in which the Author had 
 introduced a Muse to himself, and they had conversed together. 
 He soliloquizes thus on her departure :•— 
 
 She's gone, and I again am left, 
 And of my sylph-like love hereft, 
 Left with my spirit to commune, 
 And sing, alas, a sadder tune ; 
 Sing of the vexed heart's wild emotion, — 
 Oh ! oft the restless waves of ocean, 
 Sullen and dull, with grandeur crest 
 The place where many a griefs at rest ; 
 Not that the cause of grief has fled, 
 But that its caves but hold the dead, 
 And from its depths no wailings sound, 
 Simply because the mourner's drowned. 
 'Tis thus that men their griefs conceal, 
 They may not speak, — indeed they feel. 
 I merely put a common case, 
 As to myself, whene'er I trace 
 A wild and many-coloured spell, 
 
 With transient joy my heart to fill, 
 'Tis but a dream I know full well, 
 
 It fades, but oh I love it still !
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 55 
 
 Ami oft I view its brilliant form, 
 Standing 'mid memory's gathered storm, 
 Which chases oft", like frightened things, 
 The spirit's bright imaginings ; 
 Standing, like scent in blighted flowers, 
 Lone relic of past joyous hours, 
 When all things else have drooped and gone 
 That once were fair to look upon ; 
 Towering all earthly thoughts above, 
 A thing of light, and life, and love. 
 
 Enough, enough, — like those who run 
 The pace when near the goal is fleetest ; 
 
 Farewell, farewell, my song is done, 
 
 And, like the swan's, the last is sweetest. 
 
 J£>oft o'er tlje J?ouI. 
 
 Soft o'er the soul come dreams of early gladness, 
 When round us Hope her fairy rainbow threw, 
 And in the future not one tint of sadness 
 Gloomed on the bursting glory of the view ; 
 And joy, then, like the gentle dove, 
 Hovered our lightened hearts above ; 
 We lived in peace, we lived in love, 
 
 At home, at home.
 
 56 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 But, ah! too soon the joyous sky was clouded, 
 
 And fluttered round us things of strife and storm, 
 And the cold earth from our deep love enshrouded 
 Hearts that were once so kind, and true, and warm ; 
 And then, like rocks in sunder cleft, 
 Our orphaned souls, of joy bereft, 
 Had nought but weeping memory left 
 
 Of home, of home. 
 
 And oft, amid our wild and broken sleeping, 
 
 Thoughts of the past upon our mind are hurled, 
 And then we waken, worn with woe and weeping, 
 To roam across a wide and desert world, 
 And try with frenzied mind and will 
 With other joys our hearts to fill: — 
 Vain hope ! for memory lingers still 
 
 At home, at home. 
 
 But from the tomb there comes a sweet redeeming, 
 
 Which tells us that our friends can never die ; 
 Again they live, their looks of love are gleaming 
 Through the full sunlight of a brighter sky ; 
 Then lift we high the joyful strain, 
 And break our sorrow's fretting chain, 
 For in yon heaven we find again 
 
 A home, a home.
 
 LAVS OF HOl'E. •") 7 
 
 Units; 
 
 EXPRESSIVE OF THE WRITER'S FEELINGS AT THE 
 TIME THEY WERE WRITTEN. 
 
 "The heart knoweth its own bitterness, anil a stranger intermeddleih 
 not with its joy.*' 
 
 What man the things of man can know, 
 
 Save every man his own ? 
 More subtle joy, intenser woe, 
 Each feels alone. 
 
 No stranger the heart's grief can tell ; 
 
 Stern though its billows roll 
 The surface may be smooth, — they swell 
 Deep in the soul. 
 
 Oh, yes ! the eye may sparkle bright, 
 
 The face be blithe and glad, 
 And yet, while all seems calm and light, 
 The heart be sad. 
 
 But man, proud man, makes it his care- 
 To shew a heart of steel, 
 And often acts as if he were 
 
 Ashamed to feel.
 
 58 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 'Tis vain!— the soul, though cased in pride, 
 
 Must feel affliction's smart; 
 And scornful features thinly hide 
 A broken heart. 
 
 The lip may quiver not, the eye 
 May glance its lightnings far ; 
 There may break on the passer by 
 No sounds of war ; 
 
 The world around may come and go, 
 
 Unconscious of the strife, 
 Which that poor heart is doomed to know 
 'Twixt death and life. 
 
 Death of the spirit's joy ! — such death 
 
 Should ne'er o'er mortals pend ; 
 Life of the heart! — such vital breath 
 Should never end. 
 
 Bitter the contest — how it shakes 
 
 Man's high and castled trust! 
 Grasps at his haughtiness, and breaks 
 It into dust !
 
 LAYS OF HOI'E. 59 
 
 But when his fame, or pride, or love, 
 
 Lies slain upon the field, 
 He brings forced laughters out to prove 
 He iv ill not yield. 
 
 And, oh ! it shews this world of ours 
 
 Is filled with sin and guile, 
 When the heart takes its faded flower.'; 
 To wreathe a smile. 
 
 Autumnal iHuSincjg. 
 
 ** We all <lo fade as a leaf." 
 
 Hark! to the wind through the forest-trees sounding, 
 Scattering the light leaves of Summer's abounding ; 
 Hark! for the voice of its tremulous sighing 
 Sings to the living the dirge of the dying. 
 Was, then, the anthem heard 
 
 As it swept past ? 
 Scarce could ye catch the word 
 
 Uttered so fast : 
 Ever the plaintive strain 
 
 Hiscs, and still 
 Asks ye to list again, 
 If ye will.
 
 60 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Solemn as sounds of a funeral sweeping 
 
 O'er the cold graves where the slaughtered are 
 
 sleeping, 
 Sad as the night- cloud portentously glooming 
 On the wide sea, while the death-shots are booming : 
 Saw ye that stranger go, 
 
 Noticed by none ! 
 Marked ye the track of woe 
 
 Following him on ? 
 Peasant and thron'd king 
 
 Felt a cold breath, — 
 Then rose a whispering, 
 
 " It is Death !" 
 
 See how the lights shine ! gay mortals are dancing, 
 And gleams of glad hearts from their eyelids are 
 
 glancing ; 
 Who of that company dreams he is wending 
 To doom that's eternal and life that's unending ? — 
 Now all the names rehearse — 
 
 Wanting are some ; 
 Of those gay revellers 
 What has become ? 
 Alike unmoved by 
 
 Glory and gloom, 
 Dreamless and dull they lie 
 In the tomb.
 
 LAYS OK HOPE. Gl 
 
 Stars shining to fall, brilliant meteors that quiver, 
 And quench, fleeting sun-sparkles glassed on a river; 
 With all else, or heaven, earth, or ocean pervading, 
 That fancy can image as gladdening and fading : 
 Such, such is life, and all 
 
 Banners that wave 
 Proud o'er its festival, 
 
 Droop o'er its grave. 
 Like fate is mine ; I must 
 
 Meet it alone, 
 Blent with a nation's dust 
 Be my own. 
 
 Bitter the cup, my soul ! fear not to drink of it ; 
 Humbling the thought, indeed! grieve not to think 
 
 of it. 
 Things that with dying thoughts most have impressed 
 
 me, 
 Richly with Heaven's own visions have blessed me. 
 Life ever clustering 
 
 Where seraphs shine, — 
 Breath from the blessed King, 
 
 This may be mine : 
 There, 'mid that happy throng 
 
 Never to die, 
 I'll swell the spirit-song 
 Of the sky.
 
 62 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Spring. 
 
 "Thou makest the outgoings of the morning ami evening to rejoice.' 
 
 Book of Psalms. 
 
 List ! oh list ! there's a noise in the earth, 
 A noise like that at a royal birth ; 
 
 What can it mean ? 
 
 The bells are ringing, 
 The birds are singing, 
 
 The earth is dressed in her bonniest green ; — 
 We hardly know her, she looks so gay : 
 Man gives his feelings a holiday, 
 
 Stands in the pleasure and pride of years, 
 
 And wipes his forehead, and dries his tears. 
 
 A child sprang past me with step of light, 
 And brow as the fresh May morning bright, 
 And the pearls that danced in his sparkling eye 
 Were his rich and only jewellery. 
 
 And I asked the child 
 Whence all this joy? 
 
 And he turned and smiled — 
 That gladsome boy. 
 " Old Winter has gone to his broken rest 
 In a dark old cloud in the caverned west; 
 Young Spring has come out, and, hurra ! what fun 
 In the fresh green fields, when the school is done !
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. G'3 
 
 Spring — Spring, 
 
 The kind young thing, 
 Spring this blessing to earth hath given:" 
 
 And he sprang away 
 
 To his laughing play : 
 I looked, and found myself thinking of heaven. 
 
 A maiden tripped with elastic tread, 
 And a fadeless rainbow crowned her head; 
 Young Love had fixed in her eyes his throne, 
 And girt her with Beauty's magic zone. 
 
 And I asked what prize 
 Had pleased her so ? 
 
 And with downcast eyes 
 She whispered low, 
 While her heart high throbbed, and she blushed with 
 
 bliss, 
 As the gay flowers blush to the zephyr's kiss : — 
 " 'Twill be time for our evening wanderings soon, 
 By the glancing light of the young May moon : — 
 
 Spring — Spring, 
 
 The sly young thing ! 
 Spring this delight on my path hath thrown, — 
 
 Bright eyes that will shine 
 
 Sweet meanings to mine, 
 And a heart that's full of love all my own.
 
 G4 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 A grave man walked with a thoughtful air, 
 Furrows were chiselled by years of care, — 
 But joy, like electric fire o'erran 
 The furrowed cheek of the thoughtful man. 
 
 And I asked him how 
 His heart was glad, 
 
 Light dwelt on the brow, 
 Erewhile so sad ? 
 He talked of the produce of cultured fields, 
 The many good things that the rich earth yields ; 
 And he looked up to heaven, and said the sun 
 Had made the seed-time a prosperous one. 
 
 Spring — Spring, 
 
 The fair young thing! 
 God through the spring this largess hath poured ; 
 
 And e'en as I heard 
 
 The adoring word, 
 My heart sprang aloft, and I blessed the Lord. 
 
 The maiden's blush, the laugh of the boy, 
 And the grave man's lightning-flash of joy, — 
 With what matchless tracery blend they all, 
 As the Spring's most fitting coronal ! 
 We can give no more — we'll yield no less — 
 
 Be this from the full earth given ; 
 Beauty, and Music, and Thankfulness, — 
 
 And is there aught else in Heaven ?
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 65 
 
 Ci)C put. 
 
 " Poets are all who love, who f'rel jp-eat truths, and tell them." Festut. 
 
 It was a summer's eve ! — just one of those 
 That shed heaven's beauty o'er this sleeping world, 
 And make old hearts feel young, and breathe such life 
 Into the mind, it needs no surer proof 
 That it can never die : o'er all the scene 
 There was a silence, — not like that of death, 
 But as if Nature held her breath to gaze 
 On some fair pageant that was passing by, — 
 A rest like that which ever holds itself 
 O'er a child's slumbers, joyous, deep, serene : 
 The zephyr came to take his evening stroll, 
 And with the blushing flowers as he passed 
 Held constant wooing ; — all was high delight 
 And silent revelry. Half hid from sight, 
 Beneath a grateful and embowered shade, 
 A dreaming Poet lay, with face and soul 
 Alike upturned to heaven ; and as he lay 
 High feelings crept within him, and he blushed, 
 For the great thoughts with which his soul was charged 
 Sent the glad blood careering o'er his face, 
 That it might share the joy. Strange forms of bliss 
 
 F
 
 66 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Came clustering round him; — then he shut his eyes, 
 And held deep commune with the beautiful, 
 And heard the fluttering of angels' wings, 
 And sounds of blessedness; — then music came 
 As from a distance, tremulous and dim; 
 It was the laughing of the better world 
 Breaking upon his ear : there, there he lay, 
 Till his whole soul was gladdened, and he seemed 
 Nought but a living pleasure. 
 
 By that way 
 There came a worldling, — one who bowed the knee 
 At Mammon's altar, nor looked up from this 
 His deep devotion, save to shoot a glance 
 To that gay gleaming shrine at which presides 
 Unhallowed pleasure ; and he stopped to gaze 
 On the enthusiast, and with one cold look, 
 In which was imaged that ignoble mind 
 That knows no bliss of feeling — passed along, 
 And called him mad. 
 
 That word dispelled the charm. 
 Up sprang the dreamer, and across his brow 
 There flashed the storm of pride ; and then he 
 
 calmed — 
 His firm lip set into a lordly scorn, 
 And thus he sang : —
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. G7 
 
 Call ye the Poet mad, because he loves 
 
 To listen when glad Nature's anthems rise, 
 And courts the leafy temples of the groves, 
 
 Far from earth's godless "refuges of lies?" 
 And bid ye round him Pleasure spread her lures, 
 
 Or gold, to tempt him from his hallowed spot? 
 And think ye he would stoop to bliss like yours, 
 
 And taint his heaven-born soul ? — Ye know him 
 not; — 
 And as for all your sordid gold — there let it rot ! 
 
 Call ye him mad ? he hath a secret power 
 
 To drag the elements, his slaves, along ; 
 Stars are his playthings — beauty is his dower — 
 
 The favoured child of feeling and of song ; 
 Angels he calls his friends, and with them oft 
 
 Holds whispered converse, and upon their wings 
 They bear his ravished mind aloft, aloft, 
 
 Far from the sight and sound of meaner things, 
 Till from his throne in heaven his song o'er earth 
 he flings. 
 
 Call ye him mad ? why, from his radiant soul 
 There come rich gleamings of celestial fire, 
 
 And from his loosened tongue impetuous roll 
 The wild warm melodies of high desire ; 
 F 2
 
 68 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 And on his deeper self, his holiest heart, 
 
 Such untold images of beauty shine 
 That beggared language never can impart, 
 
 Or hope to utter feelings so divine : — 
 Mortals, call ye this madness ? Be such madness 
 mine ! 
 
 €i)t 8potfjeoSt£i. 
 
 TO MY COUSIN E. M. P. 
 
 THE MESSAGE. 
 
 Fair messengers of heavenly birth 
 
 Are sent in mercy down, 
 To where a suffering child of earth 
 
 Lies struggling for a crown. 
 
 The upward spirit is distressed, 
 And loathes its earthly shrine, 
 
 And seeks the temple of its rest, 
 Unsullied and divine. 
 
 The young immortal leaps to life, 
 And spurns its envious clay ; 
 
 Just as from out the thunder-strife 
 The rapid lightnings play.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. G'J 
 
 THE MINISTERING. 
 
 Swiftly the willing heralds come 
 
 To tell that heaven has smiled 
 Within that closely-curtained room, 
 
 And on that dying child. 
 
 To her they whispered peace, then flew 
 
 Her parents' hearts between, 
 And opened heaven upon their view 
 
 To nerve them for the scene. 
 
 Then on her weakened frame they poured 
 
 Their consecrating breath, 
 And made the "glory of the Lord" 
 
 Flash on the face of death. 
 
 THE LEGACY. 
 
 Ere yet the spirit left the clay 
 
 To soar above the skies, 
 The angels kissed it as it lay, 
 
 And bade it hope to rise. 
 
 It brightened for a transient while 
 
 In that beloved embrace, 
 And when it died a sunny smile 
 
 Had rested on its face.
 
 70 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 'i hat smile within their narrow bed 
 
 The placid features wear; 
 When the last trumpet wakes the dead, 
 
 That smile will still be there. 
 
 THE EXPECTATION. 
 
 There is a silence in the sky, 
 
 A pause of bliss above ; 
 Each seraph minstrel throned on high 
 
 Suspends his song of love. 
 
 The silence is too deep for word 
 
 Of mortal to express ; 
 And not one plumed wing is stirred 
 
 To make that silence less. 
 
 The rest of rapture ! There they stand, 
 
 That bright adoring choir, 
 And not one skilful angel-hand 
 
 Sweeps o'er its angel- lyre. 
 
 THE APPROACH. 
 
 They come ! they come ! the strife is o'er ! 
 
 Burst are the dungeon bars ! 
 The spirit, manacled no more, 
 
 Outflies the distanced stars !
 
 LAYS OK HOPE. 71 
 
 They come! and heaven's rejoicing throng 
 
 With eager hope repair ; 
 And speed the golden streets along 
 
 To greet their entrance there. 
 
 The pearly gates lift up their head, 
 
 The everlasting doors, 
 While through the portals wide outspread 
 
 The vast procession pours. 
 
 THE WELCOME. 
 
 A pause ! and then the newly-crowned 
 
 A sight of God is given ! 
 It is no dream ! and she is found 
 
 In rapture's highest heaven. 
 
 m 
 
 That heaven is won ! with crown and palm, 
 
 And harp of burning gold ; 
 Forth flows the grateful spirit-psalm, 
 
 In echoing cadence rolled. 
 
 And now from harps of seraphim 
 
 The music floats around, 
 The living ocean pours its hymn 
 
 In endless waves of sound.
 
 72 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 THE CONSOLATION. 
 
 But, hark! the Lord hath spoken! soon 
 
 The harpers all are still; 
 The accents of the Holy One 
 
 The spacious heavens fill. 
 
 " Thus heaven hails her children ! thou 
 " On earth wast chosen mine ; 
 
 " My Son remembers thee : and now 
 " Life is for ever thine. 
 
 " Go ! tell thy weeping parents this, 
 " The crown which thou hast worn 
 
 " Thy perfect rest — thy lofty bliss — 
 " Then ask them if they'll mourn. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 To the stars our course is bound, 
 Dangers strew our path around, 
 
 Cloud, fire, and flood ; — 
 Still press forward, look not back, 
 Reck not, though your onward track 
 
 Be stained with blood.
 
 LAYS OK HOPE. 73 
 
 On, through care and toil and strife, 
 Winds the way to endless life! 
 
 Earth's rest it scorns ! 
 They who dwell in Salem's towers 
 Wear no wreaths of fading flowers, 
 
 But crowns of thorns ! 
 
 Firm the wise decree remains — 
 When the port the voyager gains, 
 
 He rests the limb ; 
 When the foe the soldier routs, 
 Then with swelling heart he shouts 
 
 The triumph-hymn. 
 
 When the fighting all is o'er, 
 
 When the war-trump sounds no more, 
 
 Israel is blest ; 
 When the danger all is past, 
 Strife, and foe, and desert-blast, 
 
 Then comes the rest. 
 
 "SJa&Sc* atony," 
 
 " Hear ye the rod, and who hath appointed it." 
 
 There was a joy, too high to tell, 
 Of fairy hue and magic spell, 
 When honied with those who loved us well. 
 Our hearts were light;
 
 74 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 With souls alive and passions strong 
 We roamed life's mazy paths along, 
 And woke the laugh, and sang the song, 
 Nor dreamt of night. 
 
 There is a sorrow strong and deep, 
 That heart-pang, felt by those who weep 
 O'er graves where kindred spirits sleep, 
 
 In death laid low ; 
 The burden of that grief to wreak, 
 E'en silence finds a tongue to speak, 
 And fills the heart and floods the cheek 
 
 With woe ! with woe ! 
 
 Bitter the pang that poor heart feels, 
 The summer-bloom from life it steals, 
 The wound nor time nor distance heals, — 
 
 It ever pains ; 
 When the charged cloud has o'er us burst, 
 The noise but stuns our souls at first, 
 And then we wake, and find the worst 
 
 Alas ! remains. 
 
 In that paralysis of thought 
 Old griefs with newer ones are wrought, 
 And in one mighty sorrow brought 
 Across the mind j
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 75 
 
 While memory sets the soul on rack, 
 And casts regretful longings back 
 On all the bright and sunny track 
 She leaves behind. 
 
 Like rainbow hues, too bright to last, 
 Like dancing streams that ebb too fast, 
 We hail these glimpses of the past, 
 
 And they are fled ; 
 Unreal mockeries of our doom, 
 They gleam like torch-lights from a tomb, 
 Serving to make surrounding gloom 
 
 More dark and dread. 
 
 Oh, grief! when thy proud waters roll 
 Across the chafed and fretted soul, 
 How the vexed frame 'neath its control 
 Gasps for its breath ! 
 
 And man, still haughty e'en in woe, 
 Recks not the stroke that lays him low, 
 Nay, pants thine utmost power to know — 
 Madness, and death ! 
 
 Now rings the fight! man will not yield ! 
 They both unearthly weapons wield, 
 They make the mind their battle-field, 
 Deadly and fell ;
 
 7G LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Now are the signs of battle rife ; 
 Who'll he the victor in the strife, 
 'Twixt living death and dying life? — 
 None, none can tell ! 
 
 Man ! man ! the grief that strikes the clod 
 
 Is only an appointed rod ; 
 
 Thou fightest not with grief, but God ! 
 
 Let thy soul bow. 
 Submit thyself — keep silence, Pride ! 
 A mightier than thou has died, 
 And reigns by th' Eternal's side 
 
 Triumphant now. 
 
 In Him then trust ; for you he gave 
 His life a ransom to the grave, 
 Your lorn and bleeding souls to save 
 
 From griefs and fears. 
 Though called to part from those you love, 
 E'en now in hope his grace you prove, 
 In hope of that blest land above 
 
 Where are no tears. 
 
 Lowdore ! when o'er thy mazy paths my footsteps 
 
 roam along, 
 My mind is fraught with memories of risen sons of 
 
 song,
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. // 
 
 And oft the sad remembrance comes across my 
 
 pensive soul, 
 No more in echoing cadence will their spirit-stanzas 
 
 roll ; 
 For tho' thou still thy rocks amid wilt fling thy frantic 
 
 wave, 
 The minstrel who thy beauty sang is sleeping in his 
 
 grave. 
 
 Thy glory is not in the spray thou dashest forth in 
 
 fume, 
 Nor in the waving grandeur of thy lofty forest-plume; 
 Nor in the rocks that o'er thee their unceasing vigil 
 
 keep, 
 Nor in the incense-laden flowers that from their 
 
 mosses peep ; 
 But gentle Nature hath on thee a richer glory smiled, 
 Because thou didst awake the song of her adopted 
 
 child. 
 
 And now, as on thy varied scene with swelling heart 
 
 I gaze, 
 My truant memory will return to thoughts of other 
 
 days, 
 And there, in real presence still, the gifted and the 
 
 good, 
 The sky-communing Southey stands, as oft of old he 
 
 stood ;
 
 78 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 Save that around him now there plays a glory, 
 
 holier far 
 Than gilds the sun or lingers round the evening's 
 
 brightest star. 
 
 I hail the vision ! — near me now the brightening form 
 
 appears, 
 As if but just emerging from its long eclipse of years. 
 Thou couldst not die ! thy genius is in many hearts 
 
 enshrined, 
 Thou reignest high and regal in the monarchy of mind; 
 And on thy forehead sparkles now thy crown of hope 
 
 and joy, 
 Whose jewels Time can tarnish not, nor Death itself 
 
 destroy. 
 
 There is an immortality awaits the Poet's view, 
 
 If but his swelling lyre was struck to holy themes 
 
 and true; 
 E'en death itself a richer life around his name will 
 
 pour, — 
 The day may boast of owe sun, but the night has many 
 
 more ; 
 And more than unto common men to him the bliss 
 
 is given, 
 To find the dreams that peopled earth all realized 
 
 in Heaven.
 
 LAYS OF HOPE. 79 
 
 C!jc |)rar'd Bcquicm. 
 
 The Year is gone ! that gay and gladsome thing 
 Is gone for ever, at whose joyous hirth 
 All the full chorus of the gleeful earth 
 
 Brake sweetly forth ; and merry bells did ring, 
 And young Hope, flushing o'er the future, smiled, 
 
 And breathed glad welcomes, such as those which 
 bring 
 Light on the sunny forehead of the child 
 When some loved footstep greets him. Now all wild 
 
 And fitful swells its dirge, for it has fled : 
 Hushed is its revelry, and stilled its strife, 
 And all its forms of quickly-throbbing life 
 
 People the past, and throng the awful dead. 
 
 The dead ! the dead ! oh, what a fearful word ! — 
 Fearful to those who at an earthly shrine 
 The fading garlands of their worship twine ; 
 
 Fearful to me, for I have lately heard 
 
 The last sad message, given the last fond kiss, 
 
 Had the deep feeling of my spirit stirred 
 When creeping memories of by-gone bliss 
 Met in a dying chamber. Oh! 'tis this 
 
 That breaks the spirit up : to yield the breath 
 Is but to yield all feeling ; but to brave 
 The monster's might, when from another's grave 
 
 He stings me, and yet live — oh, this is Death !
 
 80 LAYS OF HOPE. 
 
 The shroud — the coffin — the dull worm's carouse — 
 There is a cold sound in these words of ill 
 Which strikes the spirit with a deeper chill 
 
 Than aught the dead can feel : around their hrows 
 No fevers play, their weary work is done; 
 
 The wayward spirit's oft-repeated vows, 
 That " all is vanity beneath the sun," 
 Are now proved true, for their short race is run, 
 
 And they are silent; but the living groan: 
 To them no sunlight rises on the tomb 
 Till the glad gospel of the life to come 
 
 Bids the grim tyrant "let those hearts alone." 
 
 Then comes the victory, the sudden gush 
 Of joy that does not kill ! — I feel it now, 
 Laving its cool, cool waters on my brow, 
 
 And I am satisfied ! There is a hush 
 Of feeling in my soul, and not a trace 
 
 Of the fierce storm that swept it : now I blush 
 That e'er I doubted that my Father's face 
 Was lifted kindly on me ; his rich grace 
 
 Rewards not cowards ; His almighty love 
 
 Tries not to hide me from the tempter's power; 
 The joy of conquest is my richer dower, 
 
 Begun on earth, but perfected above.
 
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