THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 POEMS 
 
 OP 
 
 PAST YEARS, 
 
 BY JAMES PARKER. 
 
 Chance notes struck from the lute— fancies and thoughts, 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 JOHN MENZIES, EDINBURGH; 
 DAVID ROBERTSON, GLASGOW; AND TILT & BOGUE, LONDON 
 
 MDCCCXLII.
 
 
 TO 
 
 WILLIAM CAI^IPBELL, ESQUIRE, 
 
 WHOSE EMINENCE AS A BRITISH MERCHANT, 
 
 ALONG WITH 
 
 HIS ESTIMABLE QUALITIES OF MIND AND HEART, 
 
 JUSTLY ENTITLE HIM TO THE 
 HONOUR AND RESPECT OF HIS FELLOW-CITIZENS, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 
 
 BY HIS MOST OBEDIENT HUMBLE SERVANT, 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
 785493
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Betrothed, 
 Spring, 
 
 Sonnet The Haunted Stream, 
 
 Beloved ! when I am Dead, 
 To Egeria, 
 The Orphans, 
 
 Stanzas to , 
 
 The First Primrose, 
 
 The Sky-Lark, 
 
 Mary, .... 
 
 My Spirit turns to thee, 
 
 A Dream, 
 
 Sonnet The Evening Breeze, 
 
 Sonnet — Noon, 
 
 The Frozen Stream, 
 
 Fancies in a Church- Yard, 
 
 Morning, 
 
 Sonnets The Lady's Confession, 
 
 Threescore Years and Ten, 
 
 The Sabbath Bell, 
 
 Lines, 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 
 
 13 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 
 
 . 23 
 
 
 
 24 
 
 
 
 . 26 
 
 
 
 30 
 
 
 
 . 32 
 
 
 
 35 
 
 
 
 . 39 
 
 
 
 42 
 
 
 
 . 44 
 
 
 
 47 
 
 
 
 . 51 
 
 
 
 52 
 
 
 
 . 53 
 
 
 
 55 
 
 
 
 . 59 
 
 
 
 62 
 
 • • 
 
 
 . 64 
 67 
 
 . 72
 
 via 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Dirge, ..... 
 
 
 73 
 
 I think of tiiee, .... 
 
 • • 
 
 75 
 
 Remorse, .... 
 
 
 78 
 
 To- Morrow, .... 
 
 • . 
 
 81 
 
 Sonnet, .... 
 
 
 84 
 
 The Wild Bee's Flight from Land, . 
 
 ^' 
 
 85 
 
 The Aspen Tree, 
 
 
 88 
 
 Song, ..... 
 
 • • 
 
 91 
 
 Good Night, .... 
 
 
 93 
 
 Stanzas, ..... 
 
 . 
 
 95 
 
 Song, ..... 
 
 
 99 
 
 It is not Love, .... 
 
 . . 
 
 100 
 
 Forsaken Girl's Song, 
 
 
 102 
 
 To the Stars, .... 
 
 • • 
 
 104 
 
 Sonnet, 
 
 
 106 
 
 Stanzas, ..... 
 
 . 
 
 107 
 
 Lines on looking over some Old Letters, 
 
 
 110 
 
 Sonnet Summer Morning, 
 
 . 
 
 113 
 
 To a Lady, with a copy of " Heath's Book of 
 
 Beauty," for 
 
 
 1833 — Edited by Miss Landon, 
 
 
 114 
 
 To , ..... 
 
 • • 
 
 117 
 
 A Farewell, .... 
 
 
 120 
 
 Sonnet Summer Wind, 
 
 • * 
 
 123 
 
 A Reverie, .... 
 
 
 124 
 
 The Flower in February, 
 
 • • 
 
 129 
 
 Sonnets Autumn, 
 
 
 131 
 
 The Past, ..... 
 
 • * 
 
 133 
 
 To Her I Love, .... 
 
 
 137
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 IX 
 
 Page 
 An Invocation to Sleep, • . . . , 140 
 
 One Look from thee, ..... 143 
 
 Song, ....... 145 
 
 Vernal Thoughts and Feelings, . . . .146 
 
 Jane, ....... 150 
 
 Life, . . . . . . .151 
 
 Sonnet. — To Dugald Moore, Esq., Author of " the African," 
 
 and other Poems. — 1833, . • . .155 
 
 Sonnet — To the Rev. Thomas Brydson, Author of " Pictures 
 
 of the Past," &c. . . ~ . . 156 
 
 A'Contrast, ....... 157 
 
 The Wish, ...... 163 
 
 A Confession, . . . .' . . 165 
 
 Night, ....... 169 
 
 To a Primrose in a Church-yard, . . . .173 
 
 Stanzas written in November, .... 176 
 
 Thou art gone to a Fairer Clime, . . . .179 
 
 The Emigrant's Farewell, . . . .181 
 
 Snowdrops, ...... 184 
 
 Impromptu, ...... IBS 
 
 To in Absence, ..... 190 
 
 Sonnet A Smile, . . . . .193 
 
 The Mariner's Song, . . . . .194 
 
 Sonnet to , ..... 196 
 
 Sonnet — On " The View of Loch Fine under the influence 
 
 of a Storm."— Painted by Horatio M'CuUoch, Esq., . 197 
 
 Bonny Mary Graeme, . . . . .198 
 
 A Farewell to the Lyre, ..... 200
 
 ERRATA. 
 Page r,l, line 10, for " With," read " While." 
 Page 91, head line, /or " s.vow," read " song." 
 Page 124, line 7, for " present," read "future." 
 Page 171, lilies 11 and 12,/or " hour affords," read " hours afford."
 
 POEMS.
 
 POEMS. 
 
 THE BETROTHED. 
 
 They loved eacli other fondly, a young pair — 
 And one — the girl — was exquisitely fair, 
 With deep-blue eyes, and wreaths of sunny hair ; 
 And of all gentle gifts her mind had its own share. 
 
 And kindly thoughts and feelings dwelt within 
 Her heart ; and, on her face, it might be seen 
 That heart was pure, as though it ne'er had been 
 The sanctuary of aught imbued with moi'tal sin.
 
 1 4 roEMS. 
 
 And he — the other — sterner of the twain — 
 His spirit, like a steed witliout the rein, 
 Was free and fearless ; and the restless main 
 As easily might brook the power of check or chain. 
 
 A compound strange was he of good and ill — 
 Of better feelings, warring with a will 
 Wild and impetuous as the mountain rill, 
 Wlien the autumnal floods its rocky channels fill. 
 
 A noble youth ! the light of poesy 
 Flashed out in every glance of his dark eye ; 
 And all tilings beautiful in earth or sky 
 Held with his soxd a bond of secret sympathy. 
 
 And o'er his wayn^ard soul the gentle power 
 Of that sweet gu-1 came, like a vernal shower, 
 Or the rich dew, that, in the evening hour, 
 Fills with its crystal gems the weary thirsting flower.
 
 THE BETROTHED. 15 
 
 It came — that gentle power — and for a wliile 
 He basked him in the sunshine of her smile, 
 And found in her a chai'm which could beguile 
 The houi's that intervened from weariness and toil. 
 
 They loved each other fondly ; and years passed, 
 And each that came seemed brighter than the last : 
 Their life was like a sky no cloud o'ercast, 
 Or a bright sea o'er which there swept no angry blast. 
 
 She had no wish, save one she strove to hide, — 
 Yet her heait owned it, though her lips denied : 
 And still it struggled with her maiden pride, — 
 A longing for the time when he should call her bride. 
 
 That thought — that deeply cherished thought was 
 
 crushed, 
 Like a red rose with summer beauty flushed ; 
 Like a red rose on which the wind hath rushed, 
 Strewing its tender leaves untimely in the dust.
 
 16 POEMS. 
 
 Tlieir sky Avas changed — it seemerl no longer bright ; 
 The morning brought no more its Avonted light ; 
 And deeper fell the shadows of the night, 
 And, like the rainbow's beams, their treasured hopes 
 took flight. 
 
 Like stormy clouds that diirken as they roll, 
 A spell of fatal influence o'er liim stole ; 
 The gaming table and the midnight bowl 
 Beheld him sinking fast beneath their cursed control. 
 
 And when, at intervals, the mood was o'er. 
 Deep was the penitence his bosom wore. 
 Like the returning prodigal, before 
 The threshold of his fond, forgiving father's door ! 
 
 But, as it oft returned, he could not brook, 
 In her dim eye, the merited rebuke ; 
 He could not beai* to read, as in a book, 
 Tlie deep corroding wo whereof her soul pm'took.
 
 THE BETROTHED. 17 
 
 And, reckless grown beneath that sinful spell, 
 He left his home, and her he loved so well : 
 Oh ! language is without the power to teU 
 The anguish of that hour which saw their last farewell. 
 
 He left his home and liis betrothed bride, 
 And, with no gentle star to be his guide, 
 He wandered o'er the deserts lone and wide. 
 And braved the wild vicissitudes of wind and tide. 
 
 And all the vanished past ! — it came to him 
 Like floating fragments of a blissful dream, — 
 Like sunsliine on a dark and rufiled stream. 
 Or the pale wavering of the fitful meteor's beam ! 
 
 And she — the lady of his love — she pined 
 
 'Mid the spring wreaths wliich her own hands liad 
 
 twined ; 
 All mortal hopes departed from her mind. 
 And in a fairer world her thoughts were all enslu'ined. 
 
 b2
 
 1 8 POEMS. 
 
 Yet, ere her spirit burst its mortal chain, 
 She prayed for him — tluit wanderer o'er the main- 
 She prayed, even to the hist, yet all in vain, 
 That she might see him once — ^but only once again ! 
 
 He came — an aUcred man— across the wave ; 
 He sought his love — they led him to her grave ! 
 His latest aspiration was to crave 
 That his last sleep might be in the same narrow cave.
 
 SPRING. 
 
 19 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Spring is hovering now, 
 
 With fragrance on her wing, 
 And smiles upon her svinny brow — 
 
 The Spring, the glorious Spring ! 
 And, in her flight, she showers 
 
 Upon the longing earth 
 Soft dew, to nurse the sleeping flowers. 
 
 Till they awake in mirth. 
 
 II. 
 The icy spell is broken 
 
 That held the world in chains. 
 And not a lingering trace or token 
 
 Of its chilling power remains.
 
 20 POEMS. 
 
 Boreas hath sped away 
 
 Across the ocean foam, 
 O'er frozen wave and iceberg grey, 
 
 Back to his polar home. 
 
 III. 
 
 The forest's deepening shade 
 
 Is fill'd once more with song, 
 And echoes fi-om each swelling glade 
 
 The joyous notes prolong ; 
 And, like some whisper'd tale, 
 
 Or love's first timid sigh, 
 The fresh and fragrant southern gale 
 
 On noiseless wing sweeps by. 
 
 IV. 
 
 ■ Upon the meadow's breast 
 The daffodil is blowing. 
 And, like the stars in evening's crest, 
 Its golden flowers are glowing ;
 
 SPRING. •" '■ 
 
 And the pale primrose blooms 
 Deep in tlie solemn woods, 
 
 Enriching with its young perfumes 
 The leafy solitudes. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh ! is not this the hour 
 
 Of gladness and of glee ? 
 The butterfly is on the flower, 
 
 The bii-d upon the tree ; 
 And from its mossy cell 
 
 Comes forth the merry bee, 
 To revel on each opening bell 
 
 That blooms upon the lea. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The sun's reviving ray 
 
 Laughs on the gushing streams, 
 As o'er their pebbly beds they play. 
 
 Exulting in his beams.
 
 22 roEMS. 
 
 All nature is awake, 
 
 And her many voices sing 
 
 O'er dewy hill and shining lake, 
 The Spring, the glorious Spring !
 
 THE HAUNTED STREAM. 23 
 
 SONNET THE HAUNTED STREAM. 
 
 A MELANCHOLY music ever flings 
 
 A spell of softened sadness o'er the place ; 
 A sound caught from the plaintive murmurings 
 
 Of a small stream the eye can scarcely trace 
 'Mid the thick woods. 'Tis said the place is haunted, 
 
 And peasants, passing by in midnight hours, 
 Have heard a strain of moiu"nful music chanted 
 
 Where shadowy woods, and interwoven bowers. 
 Are thought impervious to mortal feet ; 
 
 Though I believe it not, — and rather deem 
 'Tis but the hidden stream, which doth repeat. 
 
 In that deep solitude, its midnight hymn : 
 Yet o'er my mind sad fancies ever float 
 Whene'er I wander near that lonely spot !
 
 24 POEMS. 
 
 BELOVED! WHEN I AM DEAD. 
 
 Beloved ! when I am dead, 
 Oh ! do not weep for me in festal hours, 
 When through the glittering dance thy footsteps tread 
 
 On mimic flowers ; 
 
 Nor, by the blazing hearth, 
 Wlaen mingled voices swell in sinless glee — 
 Oh ! chequer not that hour of holy mirth 
 
 With thoughts of me ! 
 
 Beloved ! when I am dead. 
 Think not of me in bright and verdant bowers, 
 When the full pride of summer's noon is shed 
 
 On all its flowers ;
 
 BELOVED ! WHEN I AM DEAD. 25 
 
 When the rich rose's breath 
 Is caught in every aspiration, there ; 
 When the laburnum's bloom illimiineth 
 
 The glowing air ! 
 
 For, 'midst the festal glee, 
 By the glad heai-th, or where the roses bloom, 
 No spirit, love ! would sympathize with thee 
 
 In kinched gloom. 
 
 But, where the low sweet strains 
 Of winds and waters, blended with the sound 
 Of village echoes, borne from distant plains, 
 
 Are breathing round ; 
 
 If there tliy feet should rove. 
 When twilight dimly falls on flower and tree. 
 Oh I then, my first, — my last, — my only love ! 
 
 Remember me !
 
 2G roEiMS. 
 
 TO EGERIA. 
 
 ■ Egeria ! sweet creation of some heart 
 Who found no mortal resting place so fair 
 As thy ideal breast." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Oh ! would that I could dwell with thee, 
 Nymph of the fairy -peopled dell ! 
 
 "VVliere sacred founts, in melody, 
 
 Are trickling through thy sparry cell ; 
 
 As when, of old, in moonlit hour, 
 
 A regal lover sought thy bower.
 
 TO EGERIA. 
 
 Would I could gaze upon thee now, 
 In some green solitary place ; — 
 
 Thou of the sunny hair, and brow 
 
 Wliich more than mortal beauties grace j 
 
 "Would that, upon thy heaving breast, 
 
 My yearning soul were rocked to rest ! 
 
 Would that thy voice, more musical 
 
 Than forest bird or mountain stream. 
 Upon my raptured ear might fall, 
 
 Beneath the twilight shadows dim ; 
 Would that thine eye — though brighter far- 
 Might gaze upon me like a star ! 
 
 Oh ! 1 have wooed thee where the woods 
 Ai-e thickest ; in their central shade, 
 
 Where seldom human foot intrudes 
 To break the stillness of the glade ; 
 
 But thy sweet glance hath never shone 
 
 To cheer me as I wandered on.
 
 28 POEMS. 
 
 The visions of the ancient day, 
 Beneath the ruthless hand of time 
 
 Have faded, one by one, away, 
 
 Nor live, save in the poet's rhyme — 
 
 A golden glory lingering yet, 
 
 Although the sun for aye hath set. 
 
 No more the reeking altar burns — 
 No more the votive hymn is sung, 
 
 WTiere wine was poui'ed from sacred urns, 
 And warm blood from the victim sprung ; 
 
 The pipe of Pan is hushed, and all 
 
 The laughter of the bacchanal ! 
 
 No more, amid the rustling boughs. 
 The Dryads hold their moonlit dance. 
 
 Where Satyr's uncouth visage throws 
 Upon their feats an amorous glance ! 
 
 But, lonely now is every scene 
 
 Where all their revehy hath been.
 
 TO EGERIA. 29 
 
 And tliou, Egeria ! with the train, 
 Hast vanished from the eyes of men ; 
 
 No traces of thy steps remain 
 
 By storied brook or haunted glen ; 
 
 'Tis only through the mist of years, 
 
 Thy form of waning light appears ! 
 
 c2
 
 30 POEMS. 
 
 THE ORPHANS. 
 
 But yesterday their mother's forai, in funeral array, 
 Was carried forth to mingle with a husband's mouldering 
 
 clay ; 
 And lone and friendless are they now, two infants, fair 
 
 and free, 
 As ever shared a mother's kiss, or climb'd a father's knee. 
 
 Upon the flowery bank they sit — beneath its verdant 
 
 breast 
 Their parents, sleeping side by side, in cold commimion 
 
 rest; 
 Yet, all unconscious of their loss, the orphans prattle 
 
 there, 
 Contented with the flowers around — as innocent and fair.
 
 THE OKPHANS. 31 
 
 The past hath faded from their thoughts, or half-forgotten 
 
 lies — 
 
 No pictui'es of futm-ity amid their dreams arise ; 
 
 The present hours are rife with flowers — they sigh for 
 
 nothing more ; — 
 The world, with all its mysteries, they seek not to 
 
 explore. 
 
 Tlie trace of tears, but lately shed, is lingering in their 
 
 eyes, 
 But smiles are following on their wake, like sunshine in 
 
 the skies ; 
 Their sorrow is forgotten, while their eyelids still are 
 
 wet, — 
 So lightly is the seal of grief on infant bosoms set. 
 
 And pleasantly — ah ! pleasantly — they sit in childish play, 
 Too lone and beautiful they seem in this cold world to stay ; 
 All ! better far to wither in the glory of their spring, 
 Than live to taste the bitter fruit maturer age will bring !
 
 OS. 
 
 2 POEMS. 
 
 STANZAS TO 
 
 I. 
 1 MEET thee still in festal halls, 
 
 A gay and glittering thing, 
 lliy fairy footstep lightly falls 
 
 In pleasure's magic ring ; 
 And where sweet sounds and odours rest 
 
 On the volui)tuous air, 
 Oh ! lightly beats thy careless breast, 
 
 Amid the gay ones there. 
 
 11. 
 
 And smiles are wreath'd upon thy brow, 
 
 But all for me in vain ; 
 Their light is unavailing now 
 
 To win my heart again :
 
 STANZAS TO . 33 
 
 As soon the wounded bird may soar 
 
 Aloft on broken Aving, 
 As soon the summer's breath restore 
 
 The blighted hopes of spring. 
 
 III. 
 I hear thy witching melody 
 
 Breathe forth in many a lay, 
 As o'er the harp-strings, gracefully, 
 
 Thy soft white fingers stray ; 
 And, like the scent of wither'd flowers 
 
 That breathes of sunnier skies, 
 Perchance some tones of liappier hours 
 
 May on the chords arise ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Tlie well-remember'd strains may break 
 
 Upon my heart the while, 
 And in its secret folds awake 
 
 The memory of thy smile ;
 
 34 POEMS. 
 
 But only for a moment, tliere, 
 The soothing power may hist, 
 
 Even as the meteor's sudden glare 
 On the gloom of night is cast !
 
 THE FIRST PRIMROSE. 35 
 
 THE FIRST PRIMROSE. 
 
 " We say that people and that things are changed ; 
 
 Alas! it is ourselves that change: the heart 
 
 Makes all around the mirror of itself." 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 O PALE and lovely flower ! 
 Earliest and best-beloved of tbe bee ; 
 
 In sunshine or in shower, 
 Albeit thou com'st in sadness or in glee, 
 My spirit poureth forth a vernal hymn to thee. 
 
 Thy leaves are fresh and green. 
 Unsullied by the glare of summer skies, 
 
 And the fresh dew between 
 Their j uicy folds in gem-like beauty lies.
 
 36 roEMS. 
 
 Tlie Avoofls arc lighted up 
 "With lo\^e and beauty from thine opening bloom ; 
 
 And from thy golden cii]> 
 The wind receives a welcome of perfume. 
 
 Each bursting blossom hath 
 A gleam of stars, upon the mountain's brow : 
 
 In childhood's breathless path, 
 Oh, what a recompense of deep delight art thou ! 
 
 In boyhood's merry day 
 Have we not sought thee through the shady glen, 
 
 And o'er the sunny brae. 
 And found thee there ? Ali, we were happy then ! 
 
 We who were gathered round 
 A once bright hearth — now desolate and lone ! 
 
 And seemed to have been bound 
 Together by strong links of love that made us one.
 
 ^THE FIRST PRIMROSE. 37 
 
 But who are severed now, 
 By chilling forms experience since hath taught — 
 
 Blighting the early glow 
 Of feeling that awoke with each awakening thought. 
 
 Oh, many a spring hath passed 
 Since first around my steps thy smile ai'ose ; 
 
 And Autumn, with its blast, 
 Hath changed as oft again the fields and forest boughs. 
 
 But thou, bright, starry flower, 
 Art still the same ! Time hath not altered thee, 
 
 As in that vanished hour. 
 Thy presence is a sign of joy to me. 
 
 Oh ! that the human heart 
 Could, like thy root, yield blossoms aye the same ; 
 
 And, in ripe years, impart 
 Thoughts pure as those in infancy that came :
 
 38 roEMs. 
 
 That may not be : — life's spring 
 Cometh but once ; yet even in their decay 
 
 Its withered flowers will fling 
 Their odour round us in a later day. 
 
 Thus, pale and lovely flower ! 
 Earliest and best-beloved of the bee ; 
 
 In sunshine, or in shower. 
 Albeit thou comest forth in grief or glee, 
 My spirit still shall breathe its vernal hymn to thee.
 
 THE SKY-LARK. 39 
 
 THE SKY-LARK. 
 
 FuLL-breasted harbinger of eai'ly morn ! 
 
 That, like a wandei'ing spmt, flutterest up 
 Amicl the still blue skies of summer, borne 
 
 From some deep fm-row, where the butter-cup, 
 The daisy, and the violet, have shed 
 Their dewy tears all night, above thy lowly bed. 
 
 Sweet-throated minstrel ! thine own element is 
 In regions yielding not to hiunan sway ; 
 
 Where man hath no dominion, where the breeze 
 Mocks his vain efforts to resist its play ; 
 
 Where the clouds sail, in sUent beauty by — 
 
 There thou art journeying on triumphantly !
 
 40 POEMS. 
 
 I see thee far above me, floating free 
 
 From each encumbrance that might check thy wings ; 
 Thou hast no sin — no sorrow ; unto thee 
 
 Memory and IIo])e alike tu'e useless things : — 
 Each summer morning brings thee new delight, 
 And sweet forgetfulness returneth with the night ! 
 
 I hear — and there is rapture in the sound ! — 
 The warm outpourings of thy happy heart ; 
 
 Like melodies from some sweet prison unbound, 
 Through all the air the quick vibrations start, — 
 
 Till gushing in a tide of joyous song, 
 
 Continuous and clear, the music flows along ! 
 
 Where art thou gone, strange emulative bird ? 
 
 Thy tiny form hath melted from my sight, 
 And thy rich music is no longer heard 
 
 Of aught below. Is thy transcendant flight 
 To teach proud man a lesson ? — art thou gone 
 In the Immortai^'s ear to breathe an orison ?
 
 THE SKY-IiARK. 41 
 
 Eacli hath some path of bliss. 'Tis thine to soar, 
 
 Bearing to heaven's gate thy melody ; 
 The wood, the vale, the gorgeous garden bower 
 
 Laden with bloom, the brook that murmurs by — 
 These charm thee not, for thou hadst rather be 
 In the blue vault above — companionless and free ! 
 
 d2
 
 42 POEMS. 
 
 M A R Y. 
 
 I WATCHED thy fairy form in infancy 
 Expand in beauty 'neath a mother's eye ; 
 I dreamed not then that thou couldst ever be 
 
 Aught but a child to me. 
 
 I mind, of okl, in the long summer day, 
 
 I loved to see thee at thy childish play : 
 
 A spell of deeper, yet of gentler power, 
 
 Came with a future hour. 
 
 I watched the bud unfolding hour by hour, 
 Unconsciously, tiU it became the flower ; 
 I knew, then, thou wert altered ; and I knew 
 That I was altered too.
 
 MARY. 43 
 
 I loved thee ! ere I knew it, friendship grew 
 A name too cokl — a holier radiance threw 
 Its influence o'er the altar of my heart 
 Love only could impart. 
 
 I loved thee ! — long concealed within my breast, 
 (Like miser's gold, disturbing all his rest,) 
 The secret lay — 'twas whispered only when 
 I knew I was beloved again.
 
 44 POEMS. 
 
 MY SPIRIT TURNS TO THEE. 
 
 I. 
 
 My spirit turns to thee, dear one ! . 
 
 My spirit turns to thee, 
 Even as the weaiy setting sun 
 
 Reposes on the sea. 
 The toils and cares of busy life 
 
 Awhile may fetter me, 
 Yet fondly, love ! from all their strife, 
 
 My spirit turns to thee ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The pleasures of the festal board, — 
 The song, the flashing wine, 
 
 To other bosoms may aiford 
 The joys they yield not mine :
 
 MY SPIRIT TURNS TO THEE. 45 
 
 Though chained with gold, the prisoner 
 
 Will languish to be free ; 
 So, from the revel's fitful glai-e, 
 
 My spirit turns to thee ! 
 
 III. 
 The swallow, from a distant land, 
 
 Returneth with the spring ; 
 The wave that ebbs from off the strand, 
 
 The tide will backwaa-d bring ; 
 The evening, from its airy flight 
 
 Eecalls the wandering bee ; 
 Even so, my beautiful — my bright ! 
 
 My spirit tiu'ns to thee ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The moon behind the clouds awhile 
 
 May veil her looks of light, 
 And for a season, love ! tliy smile 
 
 May vanish from my sight ; —
 
 46 POEMS. 
 
 Yet, as the Aveaiy setting sun 
 
 Reposes on the sea, 
 From distant scenes, beloved one ! 
 
 My spirit tiu'us to thee !
 
 A DREAM. 47 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 " I had a dream that was not all a dream." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 In the deep slumbers of the night 
 
 A dream of bliss came stealing o'er me, 
 
 And thou wert pictured in the light 
 Of all thy loveliness, before me. 
 
 Thy smooth fair brow — thy lip of rose — 
 Thine eye with April beauty beaming ! 
 
 And smiles upon thy face arose, 
 In sunny radiance, in my dreaming ! 
 
 And raven hair was gracefully 
 
 Around that snowy forehead wreathing, 
 
 And tones of thrilling melody 
 
 Forth from those rosy lips were breathing !
 
 48 POEMS. 
 
 It seemed as if the evenin"; light 
 
 On wood, and hill, and stream descended ;- 
 A shadow of aj^proaehing night 
 
 With day's dcpai-ting glories blended : 
 
 And fragrance sweet, from leaf and flower, 
 Was floating on the air aroimd us : 
 
 Tlie linnet sang within the bower. 
 
 Whose overarching gai-lands crowned us. 
 
 I gaz'd on thee, my own dear one ! 
 
 In deep and silent adoration. 
 And fairer vision never shone 
 
 In Poet's liveliest creation ! 
 
 My lip was pressed to thine — I felt 
 Thy bosom's quickening emotion. 
 
 And blushes on thy features dwelt. 
 Like moonlight on a summer ocean !
 
 A DREAM. 49 
 
 I felt the pressure of thy hand 
 
 On mine its gentle warmth bestowing, 
 And tokens love could understand 
 
 In every look of thine were glowing ! 
 
 It was a scene from memory, 
 
 By fancy's power, in sleep, relighted ; — 
 
 Tliat gorgeous summer evening sky — 
 
 The time — the place — ^the vow we plighted. 
 
 It was the first — the only vow 
 
 Our hearts had framed — om" lips had spoken ; 
 And faithfully and fondly, now, 
 
 The truth it told is kept unbroken. 
 
 My visions of the midnight hour 
 
 Are ever haunted with that meeting ; 
 And spells of deep and blissful power 
 
 The treasur'd words are still repeating :
 
 50 POEMS. 
 
 And till a day of brighter beam 
 
 Thine absent form, deai' one ! restore me, 
 I bliss the hour when that sweet dream 
 
 Of love and thee comes stealing o'er me !
 
 THE EVENING BREEZE. 51 
 
 SONNET THE EVENING BREEZE. 
 
 A BREEZE amid the heavy woods of June : 
 
 A cool, fresh breeze, that from their slumbering boughs 
 
 Hath shaken off the silence and repose, 
 The overpowering heat of summer's noon ! 
 A soft, sweet breeze ; and, on its viewless wing, 
 
 It hath a wealth of dew — a silent shower — 
 
 The boon which evening yields the drooping bower ! 
 A stir is heard, a gentle whispering 
 Among the clustering grass ; as if each flower, 
 
 With its reviving bloom, rose up beneath 
 The holy influence of the evening hour. 
 
 Had music mingled with its fragrant breath. 
 And murmured to the bee a fond good night, 
 To cheer the rover in his homeward flight !
 
 52 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 SONNET NOON. 
 
 Silence and sunshine — chequered light and shade 
 
 Are on the air, and in the gorgeous wood, 
 In the deep hush of noon ; throughout the glade 
 
 No sound is heard, save the impetuous flood 
 Roai'ing continuously from afar ; 
 
 Its never-silent thunder almost seems 
 Like Silence even itself; and doth not mar 
 
 The quiet tenor of those waking dreams 
 That crowd the fancy in that listless hour. 
 
 There is no bird afloat on all the air — 
 No freshening wind to lift the weary flower 
 
 That droops its head beneath the noontide glai'e ; 
 And the far vessel, riding on the deep. 
 Seems like a babe upon its mother's breast — asleep !
 
 THE FROZEN STREAM. 53 
 
 THE FROZEN STREAM. 
 
 Oh ! where is the music, thou gentle stream, 
 Thy tones awoke in the woodlands dim ? 
 SUent and still are the sweet sounds now, 
 Chain'd in fetters of ice and snow ! 
 
 Oft in the summer my feet have paced 
 Along the course which thy windings traced, 
 As free from care as the bee which di'ank 
 From the peai-ly flowers that graced thy bank ! 
 
 But the bee that swept o'er thy glancing wave 
 Is sleeping now in its winter cave ; 
 And the glorious flowers on which it fed 
 Their leaves in the autumn's blast have shed. 
 
 e2
 
 54 POEMS. 
 
 Then why should I mourn for thy song of mirth 
 'Twould strangely sound o'er the altcr'd earth ! 
 And, 'mid the ruin of leafless bowers, 
 Seem but the echoes of happier hours ! 
 
 Yet spring will listen again, sweet stream ! 
 To the welcome sound of thy fairy hymn ; 
 And the summer's gentle breath, once more, 
 To thy banks their wonted bloom restore. 
 
 Would — ah ! would that my heart, like thee, 
 Could thus from its sorrow again be free ! 
 But the ice is there too dense and deep 
 Ever to burst from its frozen sleep ! 
 
 lb
 
 FANCIES IN A CHURCH-YARD. 55 
 
 FANCIES IN A CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 " Our life is but a meteor gleam 
 
 Lit up amid surrounding gloom, — 
 A dying lamp — a fitful beam, 
 
 Quenched in the cold and silent tomb. " 
 
 I. 
 
 There is a sad, a solemn bond 
 
 That links the living with the dead ; — 
 A voice that whispers from beyond 
 
 The path oiu- mortal footsteps tread ; 
 And even in hours of lighter mood, 
 
 Like clouds upon a summer sky, 
 The warning voice will oft intrude 
 
 That teUs us wc must die !
 
 56 POEMS. 
 
 II. 
 
 But when our dearest friends depart, 
 
 "With their kind looks and cheering smile, 
 Ah ! then, in lieaviness of lieart, 
 
 We ponder o'er their loss the while ; 
 And when their lifeless forms are laid 
 
 Beneath the sod, where all must lie. 
 The thought assumes a deeper shade, 
 
 That we must also die ! 
 
 III. 
 
 The church-yard is a fitting place 
 
 O'er fancies such as these to brood ; 
 Though lettered stones are aU the trace 
 
 Throughout this silent neighbourhood 
 Of many a one within whose breast 
 
 Life's pulse was bounding warm and high, 
 Yet, from their lowly place of rest, 
 
 They tell me I must die !
 
 FANCIES IN A CHURCH-YARD. O ( 
 
 IV. 
 
 I start that, 'midst this mass of claj, 
 
 I am the only breathing thing, — 
 The only one o'er whom decay 
 
 Hath failed to spread its dark'ning wing : 
 And many a one reposes here 
 
 Who shared my sports in infancy ; — 
 Tlieir voices echo in mine ear 
 
 Tliat I must also die ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet 'tis a soothing hope that blends 
 
 "With that low, sad, mysterious tone — 
 The hope that our departed friends 
 
 Unto a happier home have gone ; — 
 That, when life's pilgrimage is o'er, 
 
 Our chainless souls may soar on high, 
 To meet our long-lost friends once more, 
 
 Where we shall never die !
 
 68 POEMS. 
 
 VI, 
 
 Oh ! would that warning voice could teach 
 
 The current of my thoughts to flow 
 To that high world, beyond the reach 
 
 Of mortal sin or mortal wo ! 
 Then might I walk in safety here, 
 
 And all my sad forebodings fly ; 
 Then might I meet without a fear 
 
 The hour that I must die !
 
 MORNING. 59 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 " The morn is up again — the dewy mors, 
 With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 I. 
 
 Slowly in the east the morn is breaking, 
 
 Night her shadowy cui-tain hath withdrawn ; — 
 Nature, from her sleep, is now awaking 
 
 Joyously, to welcome forth the dawn ! 
 From beneath a weight of dew upspringing, 
 
 Flower on flower is opening to the day, 
 And among their leaves are gaily winging 
 
 Insects bright and many-hued as they.
 
 60 POEMS. 
 
 II. 
 
 From on liigli, tlic lav'rok's note comes stealing 
 
 Like some fairy strain ui^on the ear ; 
 And the blackbird's matin-song is pealing 
 
 Louder — deeper, in the woodlands near : 
 While the sun's full tide of gold is falling 
 
 On the face of lake and running brook, 
 Laughing — dancing — singing — loudly calling 
 
 Human hearts to study nature's book ! 
 
 III. 
 Is the Avakening of this fair creation 
 
 Shrouded from the eyes of us alone ? 
 Must the Poet's rife imagination 
 
 Picture things that else were all unknown ? 
 Surely no ! — the Being who hath blended 
 
 With our souls a portion of his own, 
 Wlien all nature wakes, hath ne'er intended 
 
 Man, and' only man, to slumber on!
 
 MORNING. 61 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then, arouse ! start from your leaden slumber ! 
 
 Ye who love to woo the morning's kiss : 
 Care and sorrow never would encumber 
 
 Spirits that coiAAfeel a scene like this ! 
 Let all lingering traces of your sadness, 
 
 With night's gloomy shadows, pass away ; 
 And, with bosoms fiUed with mirth and gladness, 
 
 Wander forth to welcome in the day !
 
 (>2 POKMS. 
 
 SONNETS THE LADY'S CONFESSION. 
 
 I. 
 
 I NEVER asked for words of thine to prove 
 
 Thy deep — thy fond affection unto me ; — 
 I long had marked it, and an answering love 
 
 Slowly awakened in my heart to thee. — 
 My watchful eye could read it in thy glance, 
 
 That ever brightened up when I came neai- ; 
 And if my hand met thine amid the dance, 
 
 The start — the flushing cheek — ^Iiave told how dear 
 My presence was to thee : and stUl, though nought 
 
 Came from thy lips to warrant such belief. 
 Yet my quick ear, unknown to thee, hath caught 
 
 The secret sigh that gave thy heart relief, 
 And upon mine its stolen echoes fell — 
 Revealing the fond truth thy lips were slow to tell.
 
 THE lady's confession. 63 
 
 II. 
 
 At length it seemed as if a spell were broken, 
 
 And silence from thy lips unloosed her chain, 
 And words ai'ose — such words as then were spoken 
 
 I ne'er had heard,— I ne'er shall hear again !— 
 My bosom beat with imcontroll'd emotion. 
 
 Whilst thou, in whispers tremulous and low 
 As the faint wind that stirs the aspen bough. 
 
 Breathed forth the tale of long-concealed devotion ! 
 'Twas only, then, I knew the depth — the force — 
 
 Of that lona; love, which silence covdd not hide ! — 
 Strong as the mountain torrent in its course, 
 
 And gentle as the flowers that grace its side ! 
 'Twas then, and only then, that thou didst know 
 My heart was thine alone, with all it could bestow !
 
 64 POEMS. 
 
 THREESCORE YEARS AND TEN. 
 
 " Life's vain delusions are gone by, 
 Its idle hopes are o'er; 
 Yet age remembers, with a sigh, 
 The days that are no more." 
 
 SOUTHEY. 
 
 I. 
 
 Threescore years and ten ! — ^tliey have departed 
 
 With a speed no power could check or stay; 
 And the early friends with whom I started 
 
 On life's morning journey — where are they? — 
 Yeai' by year upon my path they faded, 
 
 Never more on eai'th to meet mine eye ; 
 And I know that, where their forms are shaded, 
 
 In the sUent dust, I soon must lie !
 
 THREESCORE YEARS AND TEN. 65 
 
 11. 
 
 Threescore years and ten ! — to my young dreaming, 
 
 What a boundless prospect they appeared ; — 
 Life seemed a cloudless sky, beneath whose beaming 
 
 Many an early flower its blossoms reared : 
 But the shade of passing years hath banished 
 
 From the sky its loveliness and light ; 
 And those spring-flowers, one by one, have vanished, 
 
 Leaving only traces of theu- blight ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Tlu'eescore years and ten ! — ^how few and fleeting 
 
 Unto retrospection's eye they seem, 
 As it linger's o'er the past, repeating 
 
 Many a fondly cherished — faded dream : 
 Yet, how heedlessly we ever wander. 
 
 Unresisting slaves to passion's sway : — 
 Vainly — oli ! how vainly do we squander 
 
 The most precious gifts of life away ! 
 
 f2
 
 66 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet there is a balm for every sorrow — 
 
 Soothing still, while mortal hopes decay ; 
 Like the dawning of a brighter morrow, 
 
 'Mid the ,shadow.s of life's closing day : 
 And though clouds of doubt and fear may hover 
 
 Round our souls, when the dark hour is nigh, 
 Yet the eye of faith can well discover 
 
 Tokens of that glorious world on high !
 
 THE SABBATH BELL. 
 
 THE SABBATH BELL. 
 
 " Like some memorial song, 
 That will not leave us when we walk among 
 Old scenes — although they whom we prized of yore, 
 Now live or haunt those blessed spots no more." 
 
 Barry Cornwall. 
 
 The Sabbath bell, the Sabbath bell ! 
 
 It pealeth loud and clear ; 
 And thoughts within my bosom swell, 
 
 Of many a vanished year : 
 It hath a music all its own — 
 A voice in its peculiar tone, 
 
 That whispers in mine ear, 
 Of days when, in my native deU, . 
 I heard it first — the Sabbath bell !
 
 OS POEMS. 
 
 Tliat valley, with its waving woods — 
 
 Its waters flashing free — 
 The bank whereon our cottage stood, 
 
 Beneatli the linden tree ; 
 The wild-flowers that, in beauty, there, 
 Unfolded, in the summer air. 
 
 Their treasm-es unto me — 
 All — all ai'e Avakened by the speU 
 That lives in thee — sweet Sabbath bell ! 
 
 A chui'ch is there, Avith turret grey — 
 
 A venerable pile ; 
 And ever on the Sabbath day 
 
 We met within its aisle ; — 
 A mingled group, and sweetly, there, 
 The song of praise — the voice of prayer. 
 
 Arose to Heaven the while — 
 For young and old within that dell 
 Assembled with the Sabbath beU !
 
 THE SABBATH BELL. 69 
 
 And many a stately yew-tree cast 
 Its shadows deep around, 
 
 To tell,the stranger that he passed 
 O'er consecrated ground : 
 
 A chui'ch-yard — solitary place, 
 
 ^Yliere thousands of the human race 
 Their last repose had found — 
 
 Unbroken by the sounds that feU 
 
 From each succeeding Sabbath bell ! 
 
 J'riends of my youth ! your faces gleam 
 
 Before me in the night: 
 As when we roved by wood and stream, 
 
 Ye mock my dreaming sight! 
 And she — ^the loveliest of all ! — 
 Tlie dews of evening coldly fall 
 
 Above her form once bright: 
 Yet still her whisper seems to dwell 
 Jn that sweet-soundin<? Sabbath bell!
 
 70 POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! change liath visited the spot 
 
 Where we were wont to play ; 
 And many a one hath left his cot, *• 
 
 In other lands to stray : 
 I marvel if, on memory's track, 
 Their fond emotions wander back 
 
 To that unclouded day ! — 
 I marvel if their bosoms swell 
 With echoes of the Sabbath bell ! 
 
 It hath a deep — a thi'illing power 
 To cheer my darkest mood ; 
 It comes, like dew mito the flower. 
 
 Upon my solitude : 
 And, even amid the careless crowd, 
 Where feeling sleeps beneath its shroud. 
 
 Fond thoughts will oft intrude 
 Of those sweet forms, though now they dwell 
 Far from then- home and Sabbath bell !
 
 THE SABBATH BELL. 71 
 
 Oh ! when this weary race is run — 
 
 Wlien life's last pulse is beating, 
 And every thing beneath the sun 
 
 From my dim eyes retreating ; — 
 When friends are gathered round my bed, 
 To hear my dying accents said, 
 
 And watch my spirit fleeting — 
 1 fain would breathe my last farewell, 
 Soothed by thy sound — sweet Sabbath bell !
 
 rOEMS. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Oh, frown not, lady ! if I gaze 
 
 Upon thy radiant brow, 
 And mark each graceful curl that strays 
 
 Across its ai'ch of snow ; 
 And if that gaze a truth reveal, 
 
 Ah ! deem it not too bold, 
 That what my lips so well conceal, 
 
 Should, in a look, be told ! 
 And if a ray of diamond light, 
 
 From those dark eyes of thine, 
 Should linger, in its passing flight, 
 
 A moment upon mine ; 
 And if a smile should, o'er thy face. 
 
 In simny gladness play — 
 Oh, lady ! frown not then, to chase 
 
 That glance — that smile away !
 
 DIRGE. 
 
 73 
 
 DIRGE. 
 
 Hek form was such as an angel miglit bear, 
 Her face was such as an angel might wear ; 
 But her looks of beauty have passed away, 
 And her form lies low amid kindred clay ! 
 
 The spring was smiling o'er earth and sky, 
 And the air was teeming with melody ; 
 But music, and light, and bloom were vain 
 For her who lay on a couch of pain. 
 
 She faded away, like the rainbow's form 
 ']Mid the thickening cloud and the coming storm ; 
 But her spirit is gone to a land of peace, 
 Where the cloud shall fly, and the tempest cease ! 
 
 G
 
 POEMS. 
 
 We saw her in silence and sadness laid 
 On her last lone pillow — that peerless maid ! 
 And the fresh young blossoms of spring are shed 
 On the turf that covers her lowly bed. 
 
 The haunts are lonely by stream and grove, 
 Where her careless footsteps were wont to rove ; 
 And the voice that echo'd the wild-bird's lay, 
 Like the spirit of echo, hath passed away !
 
 I THINK OF THEE. 75 
 
 I THINK OF THEE. 
 
 " 'Tis said with sorrow time can cope ; 
 But this I find can ne'er be true : 
 For by the death-blow of my hope 
 My memory immortal grew." 
 
 ByRON. 
 
 I THINK of thee, 
 Though from my heart the gladness hath departed 
 That to my early hopes a light imparted, 
 Wlien many a passion struggled with my will, 
 That now hath ceased to glow within me, still 
 
 I think of thee ! 
 
 I think of thee, 
 As of some rainbow for a season given 
 To soothe me with a gleam of hope and heaven ; 
 As of some landscape hidden from my sight 
 Beneath the shadowy canoi)y of night, 
 
 I think of thee !
 
 76 POEMS. 
 
 I think of thee, 
 Though thy bright form may never more arise, 
 In its young bloom, before my waking eyes : 
 Ah ! 'tis in dreams alone that e'er we meet. 
 Yet, as the breath of faded flowers, 'tis sweet 
 
 To tliink of thee ! 
 
 1 think of thee. 
 In the first flush of the awakening day — 
 Beneath the golden noon's unclouded ray — 
 When the lone star of eve is gleaming bright — 
 By the pale midnight taper's wavering light 
 
 I think of thee ! 
 
 I think of thee. 
 As when amid the waving woodbine boughs 
 We pledged in whispers deep our early vows — 
 As when we sealed, by many a tender token, 
 That bond of faith which death alone hath broken- 
 
 I think of thee !
 
 I THINK OF THEE. 
 
 I think of thee, 
 Until I aknost deem that thou art neax — 
 Till thy low voice seems breathing in mine ear ! 
 Oh ! never till my heai-t repose in peace 
 Under the silent tombstone, can I cease 
 
 To think of thee ! 
 
 77 
 
 g2
 
 78 POEMS. 
 
 REMORSE. 
 
 Beware, lest ye be led into temptation, 
 Shun every avenue that leads to sin ; 
 
 Though sweet the lure, and strong the inclination, 
 And rich the prize may seem ye hope to win — 
 
 Resist them, for they bring but grief and wailing — 
 
 Remorse — despair — endless and unavailing ! 
 
 Oh, agony ! that each recorded crime 
 
 Haunts, like a ghost, the footsteps of the Past ; 
 
 Marring its loveKest image, like that clime 
 O'er which the Upas' deadly breath is cast ; — 
 
 And happiness ! — it was not made for us, 
 
 When there is that within disturbs the spirit thus !
 
 REMOKSE. 79 
 
 There comes no light with moruiiig— joy "^ith day ; — , 
 Noi' calm with eve, nor quiet with the night : — 
 
 There seems no beauty in the green array 
 Of vernal woods ; no longer we delight 
 
 I' the wild bird's music, and the summer braes 
 
 And streams where we have spent our early, happy days. 
 
 We think on what we were — on what we're now ; 
 
 And conscience — Argus-eyed — it wiU not sleep ; 
 And stern conviction summons to the brow, 
 
 And the pale cheek, shame and confusion deep ! — 
 Oh ! for a di-aught of Lethe, to destroy 
 Remembrances, that teU alike of grief and joy ! 
 
 Remorse is not Repentance — Remorse brings 
 No consolation to the sorrowing heart ; — 
 
 No shield to blunt — no balm to heal the stings 
 That, scorpion-like, assail each vital part. 
 
 And o'er our life a deepening shadow throw. 
 
 Disturbing every joy — increasing every wo.
 
 80 POEMS. 
 
 Remorse is not Repentance — the one leads 
 
 Down to Perdition's pit — the otlier, with Hope, 
 
 Patience, and Faith in the Redeemer's deeds, 
 Can teach us with the evil power to cope. 
 
 And guide us on, througli interposing gloom. 
 
 To scenes of endless bliss beyond the tomb !
 
 TO-MORROW. 81 
 
 TO-MORROW. 
 
 What know we of the secrets of to-morrow ? 
 
 A\niat know we of the changes it may bring ? — 
 Whether it shall be fraught with joy or sorrow 
 
 Is still to us an undiscovered thing, 
 Though we may people it with a creation — 
 The offspring of our own imagination ! 
 
 Futurity ! in thy forbidden pages 
 
 How many a tale of doubt and mystery lies, 
 Which the slow current of advancing ages, 
 
 Alone, can open up to mortal eyes, 
 "WTiosc deepest penetration is to borrow 
 The hues of yesterday to picture forth to-morrow.
 
 82 POEMS. 
 
 To-morrow ! what au anxious expectation 
 
 Awaits the dawning of its earliest ray ; 
 What hopes and fears approach a consummation, 
 
 Wliich comes at length ; jjcrcliance when long delay 
 I lath left a blank — a weight upon the spirit, 
 Wliich — bitter though it be — must learn to bear it. 
 
 Some cherished dream, it may be of ambition, 
 Will fade away, Avhen most securely nursed ; 
 
 Or love ! — ah ! life can give no repetition 
 In after years, like that which was our first : 
 
 It may be that we mourn the desolation 
 
 Of some fair shrine where we have bowed in adoration. 
 
 From some far-distant clime beyond the ocean — 
 From the still haunts of our paternal home — 
 
 Like the electric shock, Avith unseen motion. 
 Swiftly and suddenly the stroke may come — 
 
 Disease, or death, or painful separation — 
 
 Things all undreamt of in our fond anticipation.
 
 TO-MORROW. 83 
 
 Time, tliou destroyer ! of thy many changes, 
 
 The saddest that our feeKngs undergo, 
 Is that slow death which, year by year, estranges 
 
 Two hearts where one emotion used to glow ; 
 And forces up a cold deceitful smile, 
 Upon the callous cheek, to mask its inward guile !
 
 84 POEMS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 Sadly and wearily they pass away, — 
 The lingering hours that usher in the light ; 
 And still my prayer arises through the night 
 
 Of restlessness, " Oh ! would that it were day:" — 
 
 Would it were day ! — and yet the morning brings 
 Nor solace, nor relief from all my pain, 
 But eager longings for the night, again. 
 
 To spread around my bed her shadowy wings ! 
 
 Would that my spirit could repose awhile 
 
 From all the strife that agitates my breast ! — 
 
 Would that the morn, with its awakening smile 
 And balmy breath, could bring my spirit rest !— 
 
 Would that the evening could restore to me 
 
 My vanished peace — my lost tranquillity !
 
 THE WILD bee's FLIGHT FROM LAND. 85 
 
 THE WILD BEE'S FLIGHT FROM LAND. 
 
 I. 
 
 Return — return ! Oh ! thou restless thing, — 
 
 To the land from which thou art wandering ; 
 
 For there is nought on the ocean foam 
 
 To lure thee so fai* from thy mountain home : 
 
 Though the rippling tide o'er the sea-beach breaks 
 
 In murmurs soft as thy music makes ; 
 
 Though stUl and shining the waters lie, 
 
 As the clear blue depths of a cloudless sky, 
 
 Yet danger and death are veiled beneath 
 
 The smiles they wear, and the strains they breathe ; 
 
 And long shalt tliou roam o'er their faithless breast. 
 
 Ere thou meetest again with a home of rest.
 
 86 POEMS. 
 
 II. 
 Return, Oli, tliou rover ! and wing thy flight 
 Where the fields are green, and the flowers are bright ; 
 The waving fox -glove thou lovest so well, 
 Hath nectar still in its purple bell ; 
 And the heath-flower and thyme thou art passing from, 
 Thou mayest not find 'mid the ocean foam ; 
 Laburnum and woodbine, in sunny showers, 
 Are drooping for thee in thy native bowers : 
 There is music, too, in the stream that flows 
 Beneath the shadow of linden boughs ; 
 And the lark shall summon thee forth at morn, 
 To feast once more on the snow-white thorn ! 
 
 III. 
 Return ! return to thy mossy cell, 
 In the shady depths of the forest dell : 
 Oh ! envy not thou the sea-bird's reign 
 Of sullen pride, o'er its wild domain ;
 
 THE WILD bee's FLIGHT FROM LAND. 87 
 
 Those wings of tliine ai'e too light and frail 
 
 To brave the force of the ocean-gale ; 
 
 And soon — Oh ! soon would thy feeble form 
 
 Be swept away in the rushing storm. 
 
 Alas ! hoAv often, in human life, 
 
 We sigh for its bustle, its noise and strife ! 
 
 Ambition and gain, and discontent. 
 
 Oft lure us away from our element, 
 
 And leave us in sorrow, too late, to feel 
 
 The pain and peril their paths reveal !
 
 88 POEMS. 
 
 THE ASPEN TREE. 
 
 Thou hast given unto the inaDimate world 
 Voices. 
 
 Whence is that melancholy sound 
 That breaks the noon-day stillness round, 
 And, like the voice of one that grieves, 
 Is ever among the summer leaves — 
 A mourner in the midst of glee ? 
 Thou solitary aspen tree, 
 
 It comes, it comes, from thee ! 
 
 The water-lily floats in rest 
 On the unruffled fountain's breast, 
 That, lUie a mirror, flashes up 
 The beauty of the violet's cup ;
 
 THE ASPEN TREE. 89 
 
 So still is the surrounding air, 
 That even the tiny hare-bell fair 
 Droo]3s without motion there. 
 
 Yet, solitary aspen tree ! 
 No silence — no repose for thee: 
 Strange ! thy complaining voice is heard, 
 Although no other leaf be stirred ; 
 And the tired winds in slumber deep, 
 Theu' vigil o'er thee cease to keep, 
 Yet, yet, thou wilt not sleep ! 
 
 Oh, solitary aspen tree ! 
 There is no sound so dear to me — 
 No sound throughout the greenwood borne, 
 On dewy eve — in rosy morn ; 
 Yet sad withal, for, 'neath thy shade, 
 Those that in dust have long been laid. 
 With me, of old, have played. 
 
 h2
 
 90 POEMS. 
 
 I know not why, but, when a boy, 
 That oft amidst my breatliless joy, 
 Alone, I've paused beneath thy boughs 
 To catch their murmurs as they rose ; 
 Even, then, I never seemed alone. 
 For Fancy held with voices gone 
 Communings of her own. 
 
 I love each tree that crowns the glade. 
 Each flower and brook beneath their shade ; 
 Each bird that animates the sky 
 Of summer with its melody; — 
 But, solitary aspen tree, 
 In deeper sympathy with thee 
 My spu-it seems to be !
 
 SNOW. 91 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Her lip is o' the rose's hue, 
 
 Like links o' goud her hair ; 
 Her e'e is o' the azure blue, 
 
 And love beams ever there : 
 Her step is like the mountain goat's, 
 
 That climbs the stately Ben ; 
 Her voice sweet as the mavis-notes 
 
 That haunt her native glen. 
 
 There is a sweet wee hazel bower, 
 Where woodbine blossoms twine ; 
 
 There Jeanie, ae auspicious hour. 
 Consented to be mine :
 
 92 POEMS. 
 
 And there we meet, whene'er we hae 
 
 An idle hour to spen' ; 
 An' Jeanie ne'er has rued the day 
 
 She met me in the glen. 
 
 Oh bricht, bricht ai^e the evenin' beams, 
 
 And sweet the pearly dew. 
 And lovely is the star that gleams 
 
 In gloamin's dusky brow ; 
 But brichter — sweeter — ^lovelier far, — 
 
 Aboon a' human ken, 
 Is my sweet pearl — my lovely star — 
 
 My Jeanie o' the glen !
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 93 
 
 GOOD NIGHT. 
 
 Good night ; the voice of song is hushed, the dance is 
 
 ended now ; 
 The wreaths are fading, and the lamps are wearing faint 
 
 and low ; 
 And many an eye droops heavily, that lately swam in 
 
 light, 
 While the echoes of the midnight hour are whispering 
 
 good night. 
 
 Good night ! — it cometh like a cloud across the glorious 
 
 moon, 
 Or the wind that shakes the trembling leaves from the 
 
 full-blown rose in June !
 
 94 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Oh! the quicker that our pulses beat with rapturous 
 
 delight, 
 The sadder falls upon our heai't the whisper of good night ! 
 
 Good night ! Oh, this departed scene was one of bliss to 
 
 me; 
 Of happiness the deeper felt that it was shared with thee : 
 The moments passed unheeded by — unnumbered in their 
 
 flight, 
 Wliile we thought not of the parting hour, nor the parting 
 
 words — good night ! 
 
 Good night, my fair, my gentle girl ! — ray blessings foUoAv 
 
 thee ! 
 For thy words so full of tenderness — thy smiles so glad 
 
 and free : 
 Oh ! memory shall oft again that vanished smile relight. 
 And wake those thi'illing tones that now are whispering 
 
 good night !
 
 STANZAS. 95 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 I. 
 
 I SEE thee still before me, 
 
 My bright, my lovely one ! 
 Although the festal horn- is past, 
 
 Aiid the revellers are gone : 
 I sit in thoughtful solitude. 
 
 Where many lately were — 
 A single taper, only, 
 
 Gleams through the midnight air. 
 
 II. 
 The light, the song, the odours 
 
 Which lately floated round, 
 Have passed from this deserted place. 
 
 And left no sign nor sound ;
 
 i^6 roEMS. 
 
 Then wliy should I still linger 
 ^Vten all the rest are gone ; 
 
 Like a leaf on an autumnal bower — 
 A solitary one ? 
 
 III. 
 It is that thou hast chained me hei'e 
 
 With a resistless poAver ; 
 And it hath not departed 
 
 With the departed hour : 
 And brighter than the revel, 
 
 With all its glittering show, 
 Is the full tide of happiness 
 
 Within my spirit, now ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 I see thee still before me ! — 
 
 Thy wai'm and sunny glance ; — 
 
 Thy faiiy form seems bounding yet 
 Beside me in the dance ;
 
 STANZAS. 97 
 
 And, in each golden vision 
 That floats on fancy's stream, 
 
 Thy gentle tones are breathing, like 
 Soft music in a di-eam ] 
 
 V. 
 
 I may have bowed a moment, 
 
 Ere now, at Beauty's shrine, 
 But all her wiles could never win 
 
 This wayward heart of mine ; 
 The warmest, deepest feeling 
 
 That ere she simimoned forth, 
 Hath, like the rainbow, passed away 
 
 With the smiles that gave it birth. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh ! had I met thee in the spring 
 Of young affection's truth. 
 
 Thou hadst given a richer colouring 
 To the visions of my youth : 
 I
 
 98 POEMS. 
 
 But since, beloved ! tliis cannot be, 
 Accept my eai'liest vow, 
 
 And the deep devotion of a heart 
 That never loved till now !
 
 SONG. 99 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Oh ! many a fond emotion 
 
 Within the bosom dwells, 
 Like jewels 'neath the ocean, 
 
 Concealed amid its cells : — 
 Unfelt, unknown, unspoken, 
 
 Save in our silent breast ; 
 And looks the only token 
 
 Whereby they are exprest. 
 
 But if not soon requited 
 
 By kindi'ed glance or sigh, 
 They swift, like roses blighted 
 
 By eaa-ly frost, will die. — 
 Mine ! — they were never nourished 
 
 By glance or sigh from thee, 
 And the wild dream they cherished 
 
 Was far too bright for me.
 
 100 poemS, 
 
 IT IS NOT LOVE. 
 
 It is not love, that gusli of tender feeling, 
 Stirring within me when I thinlc of thee j 
 
 It Cometh not in gusts of passion, tlu-illing 
 My soul with mingled bliss and agony ! 
 
 It is not love ! — yet, with a kind emotion, 
 My bosom ever beats when thou art nigh, 
 
 And kindles with a glow of calm devotion 
 My spirit breathes not forth — save in a sigh ! 
 
 Oh ! never in my heart may be relighted 
 
 Its early hopes of truth and constancy ; 
 As flowers which in the spring-time have been blighted, 
 
 And blossom not beneath the summer sky.
 
 IT IS NOT LOVE. 101 
 
 My hearts spring flowers ! — their incense was presented 
 
 In vows of faith at an ideal shi'ine ; 
 I ne'er may love again, but rest contented, 
 
 Blessed with Vi friendship even such as thine. 
 
 i2
 
 102 
 
 POEMS - 
 
 FORSAKEN GIRL'S SONG. 
 
 " 'Tis no new passion — no new face 
 
 Ilatli stolen thy fickle heart from me; 
 For better had I borne than know 
 
 That gold hath wrought this change in thee." 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 Thou lovest mc not ! Oh ! thy cold looks have shown 
 it,— 
 
 That glance which once lighted so fondly on mine, 
 Beams on others as warmly : Oh ! would I had known it, 
 
 Ere this too trusting heart had been utterly thine. 
 
 Thou know'st not the faith of the heart thou hast slighted, — 
 The wealth of deep love in its throbbing for thee, 
 
 While it deemed its aifection as tridy requited, 
 Ere yet thy fidelity wavered from me.
 
 FOKSAKEN GIRl's SONG. 103 
 
 Yet I mourn not the loss of thy love — no emotion 
 Can stir in my breast for thee now, but disdain ; 
 
 And in secret I weep that my early devotion 
 Was yielded to one so unworthy — so vain. 
 
 Farewell ! — thou hast gone, with thy spirit unshaken, 
 
 To bow at a nobler — a wealthier shrine ; 
 But never, in pleasure's gay path, shalt thou waken 
 
 A love so enduring, so constant as mine.
 
 104 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 TO THE STARS. 
 
 Ye beautiful and bright 
 
 Lamps of the regal night, 
 That wreathe with light the shadowy vault on high, 
 
 Wliat wake ye in the soul, 
 
 As on your course ye roU, 
 Through the gay midnight of a summer sky ? 
 
 Ye wake in fitful gleams. 
 
 To aU beneath your beams. 
 Back through the gloom of interposing years. 
 
 Reviving other days — 
 
 Affection's dawning rays, 
 That shone ere youth's bright sky was dew'd with tears !
 
 TO THE STARS. 10.- 
 
 Each wild imagining 
 
 That faded with life's spring — 
 Bright dreams that never knew reality — 
 
 And vows of eai"ly love 
 
 Whisper'd in moonlit grove, 
 Wlien trembhng lips were uttering sweet reply. 
 
 And evenings, when we stray'd 
 
 By brook and forest glade, 
 With those we ne'er shall meet on earth again ; 
 
 And hom-s of vanish'd mirth, 
 
 When feelings had their birth, 
 Which the fond heart hath cherished — all in vain ! 
 
 And each awakening thought 
 
 From memory's labyrinth brought, 
 Yields to the heart a rapture all its own ; 
 
 Soft as the breath of flowers 
 
 In summer's sunniest hours. 
 And soothing as the flute's low plaintive tone !
 
 106 POEMS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 There is no stir in all the broad expanse 
 Of blue transparent air around. Above, 
 No cloud in all the heaven, to dim the glance — 
 That bright benignant glance — ^that look of love — 
 That shower of light and gladness which the Sun 
 Sheds o'er the earth. 'Twould seem as though the face 
 Of a far higher power — the Almighty One ! — 
 Looked smiling downwai'd. In this sheltered place, 
 "Which, otherwise, were all too dazzling for the eye, 
 That brooks not such excess of glowing light ; — 
 In this green sheltered place, how oft have I 
 Reposed in hours like these, (till, with their flight, 
 Their glory and their light have passed away !) 
 Enwrapt in waking di-eams as bright — as fleet as they !
 
 STANZAS. 107 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 " There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, 
 When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay ; 
 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the flush alone that fades so fast, 
 But the tender bloom of heart is gone ere youth itself be past." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 I. 
 
 My heart hath lost the charm which gave 
 
 A gladness to each early feeling 
 That woke within me, like the wave 
 
 O'er which the summer wind is stealing. 
 Experience o'er my shaded brow 
 
 Hath flung a pall of deepening sorrow, 
 And quenched the beam that used to grow 
 
 More bright with every coming morrow.
 
 108 POEMS. 
 
 II. 
 
 All ! time hath sulliod or cfTaceil 
 
 The cheering pictures fancy painted, 
 And left life desert as the waste 
 
 The Upas Avith its breath has tainted : 
 And coming years ! — they give not back 
 
 Wliate'er its fatal power had blighted ;- 
 The hopes that shone on boyhood's track, 
 
 Wlien every changing scene delighted. 
 
 III. 
 
 Cold is the heart that beat with mine 
 
 In every throb of its emotion ; 
 The spirit fled whose mortal slirine 
 
 Received my earliest devotion ; 
 And mute the tender voice that spoke 
 
 The soul of deep and true affection, 
 Whose echoes linger yet to mock 
 
 The solemn houi* of retrospection.
 
 STANZAS. • 109 
 
 IV. 
 
 And I must mingle with the proud, 
 
 The cold, the selfish, the unfeeling, 
 And veil my thoughts as with a shroud, 
 
 Or ice a living stream congealing ; 
 And never wake to life again 
 
 My former dreams of wild ambition ; — 
 The wish that hath been nursed in vain — 
 
 The hopes that never knew completion. 
 
 V. 
 
 The revel of the midnight hour 
 
 Beholds me still in aU its mazes ; 
 Even as the wily snake, whose power 
 
 Allures the bird on which it gazes. 
 The light, the wine cup, and the song — 
 
 The music, with its liveliest measure — 
 The dance that swiftly moves along — 
 
 Arouse but dreams of bygone pleasure ! 
 
 K
 
 1 10 POEMS. 
 
 LINES ON LOOKING OVER SOME OLD 
 LETTERS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ye mute memorials of the past ! 
 
 Wliile thus unrolled before me, — 
 My early dreams are fleeting fast 
 
 Li sunny beauty o'er me : 
 And many fair young forms I see 
 
 That long ago have faded ; 
 And eyes again look out on me — 
 
 Eyes which the grave hath shaded.
 
 LINES ON LOOKING OVER SOME OLD LETTERS. Ill 
 
 II. 
 
 AL ! life, with all its varied store 
 
 Of wealth — of fame — of madness, 
 Hath not the glorious hues it wore 
 
 In those young days of gladness : 
 The crowded mart — the laurel wreath — 
 
 The haU at midnight shining. 
 Have many a sorrowful heart, beneath 
 
 Their highest meed repining. 
 
 III. 
 But those young days ! — they had no grief, 
 
 And tears, then, were not sorrow ; 
 But passing shadows bright and brief, 
 
 Wliich a summer morn may borrow : 
 Then night closed like a holy dream 
 
 O'er sinless spirits stealing ; 
 And «leep had many a fairy gleam 
 
 In its own deep world revealing.
 
 112 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And those dear scenes, in light and truth; 
 
 Your pages have recorded, — 
 Those treasures of my early youth 
 
 Whicli ri])er years have hoarded ; 
 Of rock, and glen, and stream, and brae^ 
 
 And wood, with music swelling, — 
 Ye records of an early day,' 
 
 And of boyhood's early dwelling ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The dream is o'er — the flash is gone 
 
 Its meteor beams imparted. 
 Now Hope is left to brood upon 
 
 The wreck of years departed : 
 The world ! the busy woi-ld, again, 
 
 Before mine eye is rearing 
 Visions, less bright — perchance more vain-I 
 
 Than those now disappeai'ing.
 
 SUMMER MORNING. 113 
 
 SONNET SUMMER MORNING. 
 
 A VOICE hath wakened up the sleeping Earth, 
 
 And summoned Nature from her nightly dream : 
 An imiversal voice : — and sounds of mirth 
 
 Re-echo from the wood, and from the stream ! 
 The motion of the long and dewy grass, 
 
 The graceful bending of the forest-boughs, 
 Salute the morning breezes as they pass. 
 
 Each wUdmg flower, as its rich buds unclose. 
 Sends forth a murmur from its tiny bells — 
 
 Whose cadences descend upon the ear 
 Like mournful music — echoes of farewells. 
 
 Such as have been breath'd forth when death was near- 
 And might awake sad musings, but to us 
 SoiTOw approacheth not when Nature wakens thus I 
 
 k2
 
 114 POEMS, 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 WITH A COPY- OP " heath's BOOK OF BEAUTY," FOR 1833- 
 EDITED BY MISS LANDON. 
 
 The Painter's spell — the Poet's dreams^ 
 Are here iinitcd passing well ; 
 
 On each alternate page the gleams 
 Of many thoughts in beauty dwell. 
 
 The Painter's bright creations, first. 
 
 To Nature's loveliest model true, 
 Have features, fair as ever burst 
 
 On a delighted mortal's view-
 
 TO A LADY, 115 
 
 The i3asliing eye — the radiant brow — 
 The richly -braided locks they wear, 
 
 Possess a thousand charms that glow 
 In each expression, dark or fair. 
 
 What varied meaning beams in each ! 
 
 And all of that sm'passing grace, 
 The mind, uncertain, knows not which 
 
 Above its sister stai* to place. 
 
 The Poet's dreams ! — Ah ! many a one 
 
 Here in reflected lustre floats, — 
 A halo of the radiance thrown 
 
 Upon the gifted being's thoughts — 
 
 That gifted being who hath wreathed 
 
 A moral in each song or tale 
 From truth and feeling's altar breathed, 
 
 Like odours on the sunnner gale.
 
 11(3 POEMS. 
 
 Fair girl ! may tU-eams as pure and bright, 
 And thouglits as sweet and calm as they, 
 
 Shine on thy slumbers througli the niglit, 
 And haunt thy musings in the day ! 
 
 And may thy heart, and may thy brow, 
 As gay and as unsullied be — 
 
 And ever thy blue eye, as now, 
 Its sunny glances flash on me ! 
 
 Among the visions here enshrined, 
 Lil<.e buds of beauty fresldy blown, 
 
 I've searched, but seai'ched in vain, to find 
 A face more lovely than thine own ! 
 
 And should you doubt me, only look 
 
 Into the mirror, gentle one ! 
 Then on the pages of tliis book. 
 
 And find a fairer, if you can !
 
 TO . 117 
 
 TO . 
 
 I SOMETIMES think, my dearest one, 
 If you and 1 were doom'd to sever, 
 
 The sun of happiness were gone 
 To me from off life's path for ever. 
 
 Like ivy clinging round the tree, 
 
 My brightest hopes are wreath'd about thee- 
 The world, with aU its charms, to me 
 
 Would seem a lonely place without tliee ! 
 
 I know not, if, within thy heart. 
 
 The power that links my heart to thee, 
 
 Hath ever taught a thought to rest 
 That told of tenderness to me :
 
 118 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 I know not if auotlier name 
 
 Is heard by thee with more emotion ; — 
 If other soul than mine may claim 
 
 The treasure of thy heart's devotion. 
 
 And wherefore shotdd I love thee so ? — 
 'Twere worse than madness so to love thee, 
 
 Without the hope that kindred glow 
 
 Of tins deep love of mine could move thee. 
 
 And, dearest ! while I fold thee thus 
 
 In silent rapture to my bosom, 
 It seems as if Love's flowers for us 
 
 Contained no thorn around then- blossom. 
 
 Thine eye, in its blue loveliness, 
 
 Seems not to look on me with coldness ; 
 
 The lips, which mine have dared to press. 
 Have never yet reproved my boldness.
 
 TO . 119 
 
 Oh, dearest ! let those lips but tell 
 
 That all is true thine eye hath spoken : 
 
 And ever in mine ear shall dwell 
 
 The sounds of such a precious token.
 
 120 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 A FAREWELL. 
 
 Farewell ! I do not love thee now ! — I ne'er can love 
 
 thee more ; 
 To me thou ne'er can'st be, again, the same thou wert 
 
 before, 
 "VVlien first thy worth and loveliness enchained this heart 
 
 of mine. 
 When my early vows were offered up, as at some holy 
 
 shrine. 
 
 The flattering hopes I cherished have all faded like a 
 
 di'eam, 
 Or the sun's reflected beavity from the bosom of a stream ; 
 Yet their ideal blissfulness can ne'er forgotten be. 
 Although from all thy witchery my heart hath long been 
 
 free.
 
 A FAREWELL. 121 
 
 Though love's best flowers have perished, and can never 
 
 bloom again, 
 Tlieir fragrance yet is left behind, for ever to remain ; 
 Though my heart hath triumphed o'er the power that long 
 
 had fettered me, 
 Its pulses ne'er will beat again as once they beat for 
 
 thee! 
 
 I've mingled with the gay, but yet was silent and apai't. 
 For never could their wai-mest smiles from thee seduce 
 
 my heait ; 
 Nor could I cease to tliink of thee, though thou wert far 
 
 away; 
 And, while I deemed thou wert sincere, my love knew no 
 
 decay ! 
 
 The thought that we may meet again to me no joy im- 
 parts — 
 
 AVliat happiness could that afford to our estranged 
 hearts? 
 
 I-
 
 122 POEMS. 
 
 We'll meet — but coldly shall we brook each other's altered 
 
 raiie, 
 
 Once fondly lighted up with looks of love in other days ! 
 
 Then fare-thee-well ! thou fickle one — u last adieu to 
 
 thee ! 
 And may thy heart ne'er feel such pangs as it had 
 
 left with me ; — 
 Or let us meet as if we ne'er had met or loved before ; 
 For though I fondly loved thee once, I ne'er can love thee 
 
 more!
 
 SUMMER WIND. 123 
 
 SONNET SUMMER WIND, 
 
 Now pleasantly the summer wind is sweeping 
 O'er lake and verdant mead and sunny hill : 
 
 And from the precipice the stream is leaping, 
 And with the song of birds the woodlands thi'ill. 
 
 The boundless sky above is bright and blue, 
 And, from the ground, the flowers are glancing up 
 Smiling on heaven's face — each in its cup 
 
 Contains luxuriance of diamond dew. 
 
 The summer wind amid their bloom is dwelling, 
 
 Shaking the nectar from each golden brim ; 
 While its low sounding harp is gently swelling 
 
 The voice of Nature's universal hymn : 
 Let then the human heart in silence raise 
 Within itself a shrine of gratitude and praise !
 
 124 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 A REVERIE. 
 
 I. 
 
 There ai'o bright dreams of future hours, 
 
 And weeping o'er the past, 
 Chequering with sunny gleams and showers 
 
 Our moments while they last ; 
 But what hath been, or what may be, 
 Alike unheeded are by me. 
 Oh ! why should ere a thought be thrown 
 On things we ne'er can call our own ; 
 Why should the passing moment borrow 
 Its hues from coming joy or sorrow ? 
 We live but for the present hour, 
 'Tis all we have within our power,
 
 A REVERIE. 125 
 
 And from which ne'er to be effiiced 
 The living pictures fancy traced. — 
 
 II. 
 
 Such were my thoughts in youth ; but years 
 
 Have proved them to be false and vain ; 
 And Memory, through a veil of tears, 
 
 Of mingled bliss and pain, 
 Looks, with a lingering fondness, back 
 O'er boyhood's unforgotten track 
 
 I ne'er may tread again ; 
 To flowers that faded there, and all 
 That future years shall ne'er recall. 
 The sun that lit my earlier days 
 Seemed warmer — brighter in its rays 
 
 Than that which now appears ; 
 The sky was clearer — streams more blue, — 
 AU Nature wore a fresher hue 
 
 Than that in later life she wears. 
 l2
 
 1 26 POEMS. 
 
 Music ! Oh, how the simple lays 
 Which stirred the soul in boyhood's days, 
 Will come like di'cams to manliood's ear ; 
 Each fraught with some remembrance dear ;- 
 Some thought or feeling wont to fling 
 Its colouring o'er us in life's spring ! 
 Youth's fairy visions, as they pass 
 Before the mind in Memoiy's glass, 
 Like midnight stars, are clearly seen. 
 Though gloom and distance intervene ! 
 
 III. 
 Futurity ! — it hath its own 
 
 Wild world of rich revealings ; 
 Which, as they change, assume the tone 
 
 Of all our changing feelings ! 
 Yet are the images they wear 
 
 But borrowed from the past ; 
 They rise like rainbows in the air, 
 
 But, ah ! they fade as fast :
 
 A REVERIE. 1^7 
 
 And never did reality 
 
 Present such visions to the eye, 
 
 As those unreal imaginings, 
 
 That Fancy, in her wanderings, 
 
 "Which come and go without command, 
 
 Brings from that undiscovered land ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 But past and present vainly come 
 Athwai-t a wounded spirit's gloom ; 
 And passing hours seem sad and slow 
 To hearts that brood o'er secret wo. 
 The morning's prime — the evening's close, 
 Yield them no rapture nor repose ; 
 The song of birds, the voice of streams. 
 The flittering stars, the soft moon-beams, 
 The light and bloom of summer bowers, 
 
 The odours wafted from theu" flowers, 
 And all the gorgeous things that lie 
 Or float tliroughout a summer sky,
 
 128 POEMS. 
 
 Upon their slumbering senses play 
 Like sunshine in a winter day : 
 Even so the rainbow's glorious beams 
 Appear, on dark and ruffled streams, 
 In broken and distorted gleams. 
 It is within the chai-m is Ibund 
 That gives a grace to all ai'ound ; 
 And Nature vainly smiles for those 
 Whose hearts upon her beauties close. 
 
 i
 
 THE FLOWER IN FEBRUARY. 129 
 
 THE FLOWER IN FEBRUARY. 
 
 " How abundant are the associations connected with even the least of 
 the works of God." 
 
 " A type of gladness in sunshine, an image of consolation in storm." 
 
 Oh, fair young flower ! thou art springing forth 
 To the cliilly breath of the angry north ; 
 And thy blossoms open their gentle eye 
 Beneath the scowl of a Avintry sky : 
 
 And leafless bowers, o'er thy tender form, 
 Protect thee not from the passing storm ; 
 And the bee comes not forth from its winter cell 
 To (^uaff the dew from thy golden bell.
 
 130 POEMS. 
 
 Too soon — too feoon thou hast opened up 
 The nectar stores of thy treasure-cup ; 
 There are none to welcome thine early bloom, 
 Or inhale the breath of thy rich perfume. 
 
 The hoar-frost lies on the ground, like gems, 
 The birds are mute on the naked stems, 
 And thy pale and star-like blossoms gleam 
 On the cheerless banks of an ice-bound stream. 
 
 But soon a change on the earth shall be — 
 Tlie leaf and blossom shall clothe tlie tree ; 
 And the wild-bird shall merrily blend its song 
 With the streamlet's voice as it flows along. 
 
 For thou art sent with thy sunny smile 
 To cheer this desolate scene awliile ! 
 And waft our visions and tlioughts away 
 To the coming light of a summer day !
 
 AUTUMN. 131 
 
 SONNETS AUTUMN. 
 
 I. 
 
 Fainter and fainter, from the fields around, 
 The breath of flowers is borne upon the breeze : 
 
 The birds, that filled the air with pleasant sound, 
 Are silent now amid the leafless trees ; 
 
 And the clear stream that lately wandered on, 
 "Whether amid green fields it seemed to sleep. 
 Or rushed in playful mood adown the steep, 
 
 Hath now a darker hue and sterner tone. 
 The summer skies, that to the ocean gave 
 A glow that lightened up its furthest wave. 
 
 Are shadowed by an interposing shroud 
 
 Of vapour, and by many a lowering cloud ; 
 
 And the hoarse wind with ceaseless murmur grieves 
 Amid the dreary waste of withered leaves !
 
 1-32 • POEMS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet, tlio' a dim and deepening shadow falls 
 
 Upon the bosom of the cheerless earth, 
 How merrily within the cottage walls 
 
 GloAvs the wai-m radiance of the social hearth ! 
 And, where the dance moves on thro' lighted halls, 
 
 Sweet sounds arise of melody and mirth ! 
 Amid the glitter of the festal room, 
 
 The treasured odour of long-faded flowers 
 And gorgeous wreathes of artificial bloom, 
 
 Tell of the light, the joy of summer houi's ! 
 So, when Life's spring and summer-time are fled, 
 And all the hopes we fondly cherished dead, 
 
 Their memories rise amid a darker doom. 
 
 Even as the breath of flowers recalls their summer 
 bloom !
 
 THE PAST. 133 
 
 THE PAST. 
 
 " The days that were ! — Oh ! time is like the well 
 Whose waters turned to diamonds as they fell !" 
 
 The past, the sunny past ! — It is a sacred thing to me, 
 When, from life's cold realities, my spirit bounds in 
 
 glee 
 To revel on the rainbow scenes of early days again, 
 When my heart was free from every cai-e, my soul from 
 
 every stain. 
 
 Dearer, more sacred stiU, the past, when sleep is o'er me 
 
 stealing, 
 And Fancy, in the land of dreams, is her richest liglit 
 
 revealing ;
 
 134 POEMS. 
 
 Reviving in the night the sliades of things long passed 
 
 away — 
 Sweet forms and sounds of joyous years that wake not in 
 
 the day. 
 
 The past, the sunny past ! — ah ! there is music in the 
 
 word, 
 That sweeps in long vibrations o'er the spirit's deepest 
 
 chord ! 
 Or in the ruddy glow of morn, or when evening spreads 
 
 its pall, 
 Still, still the soothing murmurs on my charmed senses 
 
 fall! 
 
 As the wild harp of iEolus, in the unseen minstrel's hand. 
 Yields forth a gush of melody that sings of fairy land ; 
 So memory's chords, when swept by retrospection's hidden 
 
 powers. 
 Awake the music of the past — the strains of ^^appier 
 
 hours.
 
 THE PAST. 135 
 
 The past, the sunny past ! — there is a magic in the 
 
 sound, 
 Reverberating echoes from each lovely thing around ; — 
 That winds itself about the heart in many a powerful 
 
 speU, 
 And mingles with each secret thing in memory's inmost 
 
 cell. 
 
 Unblest be he whose wish could be, to drink of Lethe's 
 
 stream, 
 And quench the recollection of his boyhood's fairy 
 
 dream ! 
 Oh ! when the chilling hand of death is life's last tliread 
 
 untwining, 
 Still shall the glories of the past through my spirit's gloom 
 
 be shining. 
 
 The past, the sunny past ! — whate'er may be my future 
 
 lot — 
 Of weal or wo, — where'er I go it ne'er shall be forgot :
 
 136 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 The mariner across the deep more verdant shores may fhid, 
 But his fondest dreamings wander back to the home he 
 left behind. 
 
 It hath a spell-Hke voice that speaks in many soimds to 
 
 me; — 
 In the music of a bird — a brook, — in the humming of the 
 
 bee: 
 I hear it in the summer wind, — it cometh on the blast, 
 With a Avealth of beauty, light, and bloom — the past, the 
 
 sunny past !
 
 TO HER I LOVE. 137 
 
 TO HER I LOVE. 
 
 I. 
 
 When locked within thine own embrace, 
 
 Beneath this summer evening .sky, 
 Thy bosom for my resting-place, 
 
 Entranced in silent bliss I lie ! 
 I will not speak ! — words would alloy 
 
 The fulness of our happiness ; 
 But yet the tide of holy joy 
 
 Shall swell our bosoms not the less. 
 
 II. 
 I know thou lovest me ! 1 lack 
 
 No words to breathe my love : I see 
 My own fond glance reflected back 
 From eyes that kindly beam on me ! 
 
 m2
 
 138 POEMS. 
 
 There is no feeling known on earth 
 So sweet as that of being loved ; — 
 
 And loved by one whose faith and worth 
 Our heart hath long and dearly proved ! 
 
 III. 
 Pure as the morning's dewy sheen 
 
 Upon the rival lily's blossom, 
 Is every thought that dwells within 
 
 The foldings of thy gentle bosom : 
 And though it should not be in speech, 
 
 Those gentle thoughts have their expression, 
 Thy sigh to me can language teach — 
 
 Thy very silence is confession. 
 
 IV, 
 
 Tears ! — ^let me kiss them from the brim 
 Of those twin fountains whence they flow ; 
 
 Too well I know thy heart to deem 
 Such tears could ere partake of wo !
 
 TO HER I LOVE. 139 
 
 They seem so like the light that plays 
 In April's clear and dewy skies : 
 
 Oh ! never, love ! may after days 
 Bring other tear-drops to thine eyes !
 
 140 POEMS. 
 
 AN INVOCATION TO SLEEP. 
 " Our life is twofold : sleep hath its own world." 
 
 BVRON. 
 
 Come ! lay thy gentle fingers on ray brow, 
 
 And close mine eye-lids with thy soothing hand ; 
 O blessed Sleep ! come, thou who canst bestow 
 
 Oblivion from all sorrow, — whose command 
 Summons the airy land of dreams before our view. 
 
 In that mysterious world I would relight 
 Departed hours ; and, from the Past, renew 
 
 A thousand shapes and sounds — lovely and bright, 
 But lost for ever to the waking eye, 
 That opens on a world whence all their beauties fly !
 
 AN INVOCATION TO SLEEP. 141 
 
 Come, gentle Sleep ! come, and siuTound my bed 
 
 With the broad shadow of thy sable wings ; 
 Thy thickest clouds around my chamber spread — 
 
 Veiling the presence of external things 
 Of sound or sense ; let no intrusive ray 
 
 Pierce through their darkness, nor disturb the rest 
 Their influence yields ; till Fancy soar away 
 
 Through undiscovered realms, 'mid visions blest, — 
 Too blest to linger when the waking hour 
 Shall break thy chain, O Sleep ! and dissipate thy 
 
 power ! 
 
 Oh ! fond delusion, — sweet, alas ! but vain — 
 
 Restorer of the lost — the loved — the dead ! 
 The morning dawns — they disappear again — 
 
 The phantoms of an hour. We seem'd to tread 
 The self-same paths together, as of yore, 
 
 Forgetful of all intervening years : 
 And hearts estranged seemed as if still they bore 
 
 Their old affection, which with bitter tears
 
 142 POEMS. 
 
 \V^<' long had mourned. — Have they too the same leel- 
 
 in^s- 
 
 Dost thou, O Sleep ! to them afford the same revoalings ? 
 
 Tlic morning dawns : they disappear again ; 
 
 They will not stay — those phantoms of the Past ! 
 The captive must awaken to his chain ; 
 
 The exile's dx-eam of home Avill end at last ! 
 Yet thou, who hast the lapse of years o'erstept — 
 
 Defying change and distance ; thou who hast 
 United hearts that long in absence wept — 
 
 Thy solemn glimmerings on my spirit cast, 
 And for a while its wonted joy restore, 
 Oh, gentle Sleep ! and I will bless thee evermore I
 
 ONE LOOK FROM THEE. 143 
 
 ONE LOOK FROM THEE. 
 
 One look from thee ! as when at first we started 
 Together on life's journey, merry-hearted, 
 
 Can never more be mine : 
 Like some fair stai" in iBorn's embraces shaded, 
 Or a decaying flower, thine image faded. 
 
 And left no trace or sign. 
 
 One look from thee ! as when we used to muster 
 Around thy father's hearth ; — a happy cluster 
 
 Was ever there at night : 
 Life had no .shadow then, for love was throwin£r 
 Its light around thee, and thy heart was glowing 
 
 With unalloyed delight.
 
 144 roEMS. 
 
 One look from thee ! as when beneath the gleaming 
 Of midnight lamps, our kindred hearts were dreaming 
 
 Of things too bright and wild ! 
 That hall wherein we met is now another's, 
 And from their home thy sisters and thy brothers 
 
 Are wandering, far exiled. 
 
 One look from thee ! as when thy song came thriUing 
 In music unto me — each inmost feeling 
 
 Eesponsive echoes gave : — 
 Alas ! that voice is mute, for thou art sleeping 
 Beneath the cold, green sod, and I am weeping 
 
 Beside thy grave !
 
 SONG. 145 
 
 SONG. 
 
 When first I heard the witcliing strain 
 
 Thy gentle harp was wont to waken, 
 Methought it couki impart no pain, 
 
 Nor ruined hopes of hearts forsaken : 
 It answered to thy touch so well, 
 
 With chords of life and rapture ringing. 
 As if some fascinating spell 
 
 Its magic influence round was flinging ! 
 
 But soon there came a mournfid tone 
 
 Across thy harp-sti-ings slowly stealing, 
 That spake of life and rapture gone — 
 
 Of blighted hope, and altered feeling. 
 I do not ask the cause of this ; 
 
 Lady ! in all thy looks I trace it, — 
 'Tis love hath stolen the spell of bliss. 
 
 And sorrow vainly would replace it. 
 
 N
 
 146 POEMS. 
 
 VERNAL THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 
 
 " Looks of familiar love, that never more — 
 Never on earth, our aching eyes may meet, 
 Past words of welcome to our household door. 
 
 And vanished smiles, and sounds of parted feet 
 
 Spring ! 'midst the murmurs of thy flowering trees. 
 Why, why reviv'st thou these?" 
 
 Mrs. Hemans. 
 
 I. 
 
 The gloom of winter, and its chill, 
 
 Alike have passed away ; 
 Now earth, and air, and ocean feel 
 
 The sun's reviving ray. 
 The earth is bursting with new life, 
 
 The air with melody, 
 And the winds and waves have ceased their strife 
 
 Upon the glancing sea.
 
 VERNAJL THOUGHTS ANB FEELINGS. 147 
 
 II. 
 
 The river rushes wild and bright, 
 
 By rock and hill again, 
 As if it ne'er had felt the might 
 
 Of winter's icy chain ; 
 And every breeze that fills the vale 
 
 With odours from the flowers, . 
 Beai'S on its wings a balmy tale 
 
 Of summer's golden showers ! 
 
 lU. 
 
 Oh ! it is sweet to wander free 
 
 By glen and pathless wood, 
 Where gaily bounds from tree to tree 
 
 The feathered multitude ; 
 To hear the laverock in the cloud, 
 
 The linnet on the broom, 
 And the blackbii'd's music pealing loud 
 
 Throughout the forest gloom.
 
 148 POEMS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oh ! every sound and odour borne 
 
 Upon the breeze's wing, 
 Awakcneth thoughts of boyhood's morny 
 
 And many a faded spring : 
 A gush of old remembrances, 
 
 The fragrance of youth's flowers, 
 Is now the sole remaining trace 
 
 Of those departed hours ! 
 
 V. 
 
 In every season of the year, 
 
 Through all its varied roxmd, 
 Some tokens that will come to cheer 
 
 Our gloomiest mood are found — 
 To waft our saddest thoughts away 
 
 To scenes of past delight — 
 Of summer fields and flowers by day, 
 
 Or winter hearths by night.
 
 VEENAIi THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS. 149 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet there is nought so deeply fraught 
 
 With those renewing powers, 
 As the first inspirations caught 
 
 From Spring's reviving bowers : 
 When bud and blossom, from their di-eams 
 
 Of lengthened gloom arise, 
 To life and beauty, 'mid the gleams 
 
 Of April's rainbow skies ! 
 
 n2
 
 150 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 JANE. 
 
 The language of her eye — 
 
 The meaning of her glance, 
 Though silent as the stars that lie 
 
 In evening's dim expanse, 
 Eeveal more faithfully 
 
 Than lip hath e'er expressed, 
 The deep — the mild tranquillity 
 
 That dwells within her breast. 
 
 And in her smiles we trace 
 
 That heart's reflecting beam, 
 Glowing like sunlight on the face 
 
 Of some transparent stream ! 
 Oh ! ne'er may sorrow's blight 
 
 That gladness chase away ; 
 But her whole life be like the light 
 
 Of a calm summer day !
 
 LIFE. 151 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 The world we walk is but " a stage !" 
 And scenes of joy and gloom 
 
 Are scattered on our path, like thorns 
 Amidst the rose's bloom ; 
 
 And life is but a history, 
 
 From iofancy to age ; 
 Its hopes and fears alternately 
 
 On each succeeding page. 
 
 And, whether stormy, dark, or bright, 
 Time hurries onward fast, — 
 
 Alas ! we dream not of its flight 
 Until each hour hath passed ;
 
 lo2 POEMS. 
 
 Even so the shade, with silent pace, 
 Moves o'er the dial-stone ; 
 
 Its progress there we cannot trace, 
 But we know it hurries on. 
 
 Oh ! when the summer glads the skies. 
 And the eai-th is rife with flowers, 
 
 We flit like sportive butterflies, 
 Amid its gaudy bowers. 
 
 We wreck not of futurity. 
 The present seems so blest ; 
 
 If we enjoy the passing hour, 
 We care not for the rest. 
 
 But as the summer flowers decay, 
 And winter di'aweth nigh. 
 
 So, hom* by hour, and day by day, 
 Our youth and manhood fly;
 
 1.IFE. 153 
 
 And Age, with the increasing ills 
 
 That follow in her train, 
 Steals o'er us like the frost, and chiUs 
 
 The blossoms Avhich remain. 
 
 The woi'ld and its allurements lose 
 The chai'm they once could give, 
 
 And every coming year but shows 
 How fruitlessly we live. 
 
 'Tis with unshaken apathy 
 That, now, we see and hear 
 
 All that was pleasmg to the eye, 
 Or soothing to the ear. 
 
 And thoughts of deeper import come 
 As gathering years increase, — 
 
 Fond yearnings for a heavenly home, 
 Where mortal woes shall cease :
 
 154 POEMS. 
 
 The prospect of another workl, — 
 The gulf that yawns between, 
 
 And Death, with his pale wings unfurled 
 Over life's closing scene !
 
 SONNET. 155 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TO DUGAXD MOORE, ESQ., 
 AOTHOR OF "the AFRICAN, " AND OTHER POEMS — 1833.* 
 
 Poet of Nature ! from thy magic lyre 
 
 There breathes a melody both wild and sweet, — 
 Freighted with bright imaginings, — replete 
 
 With the deep thrillings of poetic fire ! 
 
 Rich with the radiance of the thoughts that shine 
 Within thy breast, as diamonds in the mine ! 
 
 Wliether thou singest of the vengeance hurled 
 
 By the Almighty on an ancient world ; 
 
 Wliether thou singest of the first who breathed. 
 
 Like thee, to Solitude his untaught lays. 
 
 Or wreathest into verse the light bequeathed 
 
 By history — the deeds of later days, 
 
 Still we can trace in every varied theme 
 
 The truth of reason, blended with the Poet's dream ! 
 
 * The lamented Author died January 1841.
 
 156 POEMS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TO THK REV, THOMAS BRYDSON, 
 AUTHOR OF " PICTURES OF THE PAST," &C. 
 
 Like to the music of a rich -toned flute 
 
 Breathed by the mai'gin of some peaceful lake, 
 
 When all beside is motionless and mute, 
 
 Thy sweet and plaintive melodies awake 
 
 Within the sanctuary of the heart, 
 
 A thrill such sounds and scenes alone impart. 
 
 The recollections of departed youth, 
 
 Those feelings cherished most in their decline. 
 
 Find echoes in each sentiment of thine : 
 
 And thou hast painted, in its native truth, 
 
 Nature's external aspect, dark or bright, 
 
 In vernal freshness, or autumnal blight ; 
 
 And viewed alike, with philosophic eye. 
 
 The humblest things on eai'tli — the brightest in the sky !
 
 A CONTRAST. 157 
 
 A CONTRAST. 
 
 " Farewell ! pale child of hopelessness ! 
 'Tis somethiug still to know 
 That he who may not claim thy heart, 
 Partakes in all its wo !" 
 
 Kennedv. 
 
 Alas, and is it thus we meet ? — 
 In coldness and in sadness ; 
 
 There is no trace, on either face. 
 Of aU its former gladness, 
 
 Of early days, when we two strayed 
 
 By mountain-stream, and forest-glade ! 
 
 o
 
 158 POEMS. 
 
 Thine eye — it was all sunshine then, 
 'Tiri changed and clouded now ; 
 
 And sorrow's withering hand hath lain 
 Too heavy on thy brow ; 
 
 Thy lip — its fresh young bloom hath fled, 
 
 Like roses when tlieir leaves are dead. 
 
 The days of youth, the days of youth ! — 
 
 How joyously they passed. 
 Ere we were wakened to the truth . 
 
 They could not always last ; 
 Or felt aught save a passing pain, 
 Or knew we loved — yet loved in vain ! 
 
 That knowledge with our parting canie — 
 
 But then it came too late ! 
 The sudden thought, with anguish fraught, 
 
 That we must separate, 
 Fell like a blight upon the first 
 Sweet buds of Hope we e'er had nurs'd !
 
 A CONTRAST. 159 
 
 The evening wind was whistling shrill 
 
 Among the leafy trees ; 
 We heeded not the dew so chill, 
 
 Nor yet the fitful breeze ; 
 With kisses on thy snow-white brow 
 I sealed my first — my only vow ! 
 
 The twilight's boding shadows still 
 
 Unminded darkened o'er us ; 
 Above the lake, and on the hill, 
 
 Mists settled thick before us ; 
 A gloom was o'er that lonely dell, 
 But deejier on our hearts it fell ! 
 
 The stars were gathering throughout 
 
 The heaven in glittering crowds. 
 And the ladye moon was looking down 
 
 From her lattice in the clouds. 
 When, tearful as the dews that fell, 
 We breathed our first — our last farewell !
 
 160 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 And yeai-s went by ; and 'mid the change 
 
 Of scenes, by land and sea ; 
 ']!klid regions new, and features strange, 
 
 My heai't still clung to tliee, 
 And to the home that smiling lay, 
 In memory's sunlight, fur away. 
 
 I've wandered where the myrtle flung 
 
 Its incense on the gale, 
 'Mid gaudier flowers than ever sprung 
 
 Throughout our native vale, 
 Yet faintly rose their breath and bloom 
 To chase away the Exile's gloom. 
 
 But thou ! — thou wert the soul that gave 
 
 My spirit life the while. 
 Like odour wafted o'er the wave 
 
 From some fair Indian isle ; 
 And there was music in thy name, 
 Although from stranger lips it came.
 
 A CONTRAST. 161 
 
 And years — long, lingering years went past, 
 
 In weariness and pain ; 
 My hopes and struggles crowned at last, 
 
 "With wealth and wordly gain, 
 I blessed the welcome waves that bore 
 My bai'k towards my native shore. 
 
 Again upon the spot where all 
 
 The eai'ly dreams were cherished, 
 Which, in that di'eary interval, 
 
 My heart so well had nourished ; 
 And in theu' pristine beauty stiU 
 Arose before me wood and hill. 
 
 Emotions of departed years 
 
 Came sweeping o'er my brain. 
 Until my eyes, unused to tears, 
 
 Were flooded — as the rain 
 Of autumn swells anew the stream 
 Long dry beneath the summer beam. 
 
 o2
 
 162 POEMS. 
 
 The hamlet, stream, and primrose bank 
 
 Were smiling as of okl ; 
 In every place there was some trace 
 
 Of other (lays that told, 
 As Memory slowly wandered back — 
 A pilgrim on her homeward track. 
 
 But thou hadst left the haunts of home, 
 The dwellings of thy youth ; 
 
 And — more than that — departed from 
 Thy vow of plighted truth, 
 
 And sacrificed that heart of thine 
 
 Before ambition's impious shrine ! 
 
 Then, fare-thee-well ! — we could not meet 
 
 In coldness or in sadness ; 
 And looks that told of days of old 
 
 Would I'ousc my soul to madness, 
 And wake the latent fires that glow. 
 Like Hecla's flame, beneath the snow !
 
 THE WISH. 163 
 
 THE WISH. 
 
 Oh ! would that it were mine to claim 
 
 A friendsliip such as thine, 
 Or that a tie of dearer name 
 
 ]\Iight link thy thoughts with mine ; 
 Then would thy spotless bosom feel 
 Far more than words could e'er reveal : 
 
 Then would' st thou know the deep — the fond 
 
 Devotion that is dwelling 
 "Within my heart to tliee — beyond 
 
 The power of human telling ; 
 Then would'st thou know the purity 
 Which hallows all my thoughts of thee.
 
 164 POEMS. 
 
 Vain wish ! — there is no common theme 
 Whereon our thoughts may blend ; 
 
 And, tdi ! 'tis only in a di'eam 
 That e'er I call thee friend ; 
 There comes no smile of thine to bless 
 My hours of waking loneliness.
 
 A CONFESSION. 165 
 
 A CONFESSION. 
 
 " Oh, happiness ! how far we flee 
 Thine own bright path in search of thee. " 
 
 I. 
 
 My heart was once a fickle thing, 
 
 O'er new delights for ever ranging ; 
 My fancy like the peacock's wing — 
 
 As bright and glowing, but as changing ; 
 And, in pursuit of something new, 
 
 Tliey ever kept their course together — 
 Their motions vaiied as they flew, 
 
 As change the skies in April weather !
 
 166 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love was a momentary thought, 
 
 Whose presence ne'er disturbed my bosom ;- 
 The bee's last ti'easure is forgot, 
 
 Wliene'er it finds another blossom : 
 I deemed that when one joy was gone, 
 
 Another would dawn with to-morrow ; 
 And, measuring feelings by my own, 
 
 I felt not for another's sorrow. 
 
 in. 
 Inconstant still in every way 
 
 My doubtful mind used so to vary ; 
 I bowed at EUen's feet to-day, 
 
 The next, I talked of love to Mary ; 
 To-night I danced and sang with Jane, 
 
 To-morrow breathed my vows to Bessie ; 
 Who, in her turn, was left, and then 
 
 I was a while the slave of Jessie !
 
 A CONFESSION. , 161 
 
 IV. 
 
 But, when thy form came o'er my sight ! 
 
 The spell dissolved which long had bound me ; 
 Like sunshine bringing morning light, 
 
 Thy dawning smiles came beaming round me : 
 'Twas only then my heart began 
 
 To feel it could be blessed in loving ; 
 And blessed with thee, my gentle one ! 
 
 It shall for ever cease from roving. 
 
 V. 
 
 I feel the emptiness of all 
 
 The phantoms that I used to foUow, 
 In visions of the lighted haU, 
 
 Where looks and smiles are false and hollow : 
 The veil is lifted from mine eyes, 
 
 That spread its dusky shadows o'er them ; 
 And now I view, through its disguise, 
 
 Each vain illusion pass before them !
 
 168 POEMS. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I would not give one hour like this — 
 
 An hour of deep — of tranquil feeling, 
 For all the wild tumultuous bliss 
 
 Wliere midnight strains are loudly pealing ! 
 I would not give one sunny glance 
 
 Of that sweet eye, so kindly beaming, 
 For all the pictures that Romance 
 
 Hath offered to my wildest dreaming !
 
 NIGHT. 169 
 
 NIGHT. 
 
 Thou art come, O Night ! from unknown lands, to visit 
 
 us again, 
 And leadest forth the silvery moon with all her starry 
 
 train : 
 Thou hast brought soft dew for thu'sting flowers — sweet 
 
 sleep for weary eyes, 
 And solitude, that the heart may read its thoughts without 
 
 disguise. 
 
 Thou art come, O Night! calm, dreamy night; and 
 
 pleasant 'tis to me, 
 Amid thy gloomy depths, to hold companionship with 
 
 thee ; — 
 
 p
 
 170 POEMS. 
 
 Li silent mood to wander forth beneath the boundless 
 
 arch, 
 ^\lierc all thy watchers are abroad upon their midnight 
 
 mai'cli. 
 
 Unnumbered multitude of stai's ! — fai* as the eye can 
 
 view, 
 Or the imagination search, the rounds which ye pursue ! 
 Yet, from your lofty dwelling-place, like Spirit's eyes ye 
 
 glow 
 With looks of mildness and delight on this dark world 
 
 below. 
 
 Lo ! by your mute Etherial gleams, Fancy perchance may 
 
 trace 
 The well-remembered lineaments of some long absent 
 
 face; 
 A glance, a smile of which on earth I never more may 
 
 see. 
 Though formerly it was a pledge of hope and joy to me.
 
 NIGHT. 171 
 
 Thou hast, O Night ! a mastering-charm that binds me 
 
 by its power, 
 And summons reminiscences of many a former hour ; 
 Till, in their pristine loveliness, depai'ted scenes 
 
 ai'ise, 
 But evanescent as the stars that shine throughout thy 
 
 skies. 
 
 O Memory ! thou surely art a boon of Heavenly birth, 
 
 A li2;ht to cheer us on amid the darkest scenes of 
 earth ; 
 
 For valueless each fleeting joy the passing hour 
 aifords, 
 
 Unless by thee 'twere oft again in after life re- 
 stored. 
 
 Yet 'mid the busy hum of life — the glai'e, the din of 
 
 day. 
 Reflections such as these are checked or frozen in their 
 
 play;
 
 172 POEMS. 
 
 'Mid sounds discordant to the eai", tlistracting to the 
 
 heart — 
 A thousand idle things in which the feelings have no part ! 
 
 Then welcome, Night ! thou wonderful, thou deep myste- 
 rious Night ! 
 
 With thy glorious moon — thy sleep — thy dew — thy spell 
 of mastering might : 
 
 The Morning, with its roseate hues, to some may dearer be, 
 
 But the Night, the calm, the beautiful, hath solemn joys 
 for me !
 
 TO A PRIMROSE IN A CHURCH-YARD. 173 
 
 TO A PRIMROSE IN A CHURCH.YARD. 
 
 I. 
 Sweet exile of the hills ! 
 
 What dost thou here ? 
 Far from thy native rills 
 
 And fountains clear ! 
 Why is thy young perfume — 
 
 Thy star-like bell, 
 Beside the silent tomb 
 
 Condemned to dwell ? 
 
 p2
 
 174 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 n. 
 
 Oh ! surely thou dost love 
 
 The tall tree's shade — 
 The thickly-foliaged grove — 
 
 The dewy glade — 
 The bank whereon the bee 
 
 At noon reposes, 
 Amid the luxiuy 
 
 Of siunmer roses ! 
 
 III. 
 And here no sheltering bower 
 
 A curtain weaves, 
 To bend in beauty o'er 
 
 Thy tender leaves : 
 No drooping violet 
 
 Expands in glee 
 Its pui-ple coronet 
 
 To welcome thee !
 
 TO A PRIMROSE IN A CHURCH-YARD. 175 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet thou dost brightly bloom, 
 
 When all ai-ouncl 
 Tells of sepulchral gloom, 
 
 And grief profoimd ; 
 Like to some sunny gleam 
 
 In life's dark sky, 
 Or a remembered dream 
 
 Of bliss gone by !
 
 176 POEMS. 
 
 STANZAS WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER. 
 
 The summer hath departed from the earth, 
 And all that swelled with harmony and mirth 
 
 Have follow'd in her train : 
 The withered leaves in sad profusion fall 
 Upon the cheerless ground, bereft of all 
 
 Its stores of golden grain. 
 
 The sky is troubled, and the darken'd streams 
 Reflect no more the glory of their beams 
 
 Upon the eye of day ; 
 And the rich flowers upon their banks that grew, 
 In beauty and in fragrance ever new, 
 
 Have fallen into decay.
 
 STANZAS WRITTEN IN NOVEMBER. 177 
 
 The merry grasshopper and butterfly, 
 That sported gaily 'neath the summer sky, 
 
 Are seen or heard no more ; 
 And the industrious bee securely dwells 
 In the close shelter of its waxy cells. 
 
 Mid all its winter store. 
 
 The lai'k is heard no more at break of day, 
 Bearing on dewy wing his matin lay 
 
 Aloft into the sky ; 
 And hush'd now is the blackbii'd's evening song, 
 That pipgd tlu'ough the woodlands, clear and strong. 
 
 And fuU of melody. 
 
 Each hath its wings in gloom and silence furl'd, 
 Brooding in sorrow o'er a darken'd world ! — 
 
 Oh ! doth not this decay 
 Of life and light, of odoui* and of bloom, 
 Teach unto man, that to his certain doom 
 
 His hours fleet fast away ?
 
 178 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Aye, to the thoughtful mind this may impart 
 A lesson, to be graven on the heart, 
 
 That eacli and all may know. 
 That, soon or late, the season wiU come round 
 When he himself no longer shall be found 
 
 In tlxis vain world below !
 
 THOU ART GONE TO A FAIRER CLIME. 179 
 
 THOU ART GONE TO A FAIRER CLIME. 
 
 Thou art gone to a fairer clime 
 Than this cold, bleak world of ours — 
 To a land with sunshine in aU its skies, 
 And summer in all its bowers ! 
 
 Thou art gone ! and hast left us here, 
 O'er thine early grave to weep ; 
 Yet Hope seems smiling above the sod 
 Where thou liest lone and deep ! 
 
 Then wherefore should we mourn, 
 Wlien we know that thou art blest ! — 
 When we know that, from sin and suffering, 
 Thou art gone to a land of rest !
 
 180 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! art thou looking down 
 From thy home beyond the sky ? — 
 Do we hear thy voice in the summer breeze, 
 As it sweepeth faintly by ? — 
 
 Perchance thou art looking doAvn 
 On those thou hast left on earth — 
 Wlio have strayed with thee thi-ough the flowery field, 
 Or met thee around the hearth ; 
 
 And longing for the time 
 When they, too, shall depart 
 From tliis cold, bleak world of care and crime, 
 To the dwellings where thou art !
 
 THE EMIGRANT S FAREWELL. 181 
 
 THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL. 
 
 I. 
 We have left the home where our fathers dwelt, 
 
 Our cot on the mountain-side ; 
 And the hearths are cold where our fathers knelt 
 
 In prayer at even-tide : 
 We have left the glen where the wild-flowers burst 
 
 In beauty beside the stream — 
 Where aU the glorious hopes were nursed 
 
 That nourished life's earliest dream ! 
 
 11. 
 
 We shall roam no more 'mid heath and brake, 
 
 Where the wild-deer bounded by ; 
 We shall sail no more on our Higliland lake, 
 
 Beneath our native sky : 
 
 Q
 
 182 POEMS. 
 
 Our course is now o'er the foaming deep — 
 
 Our home a distant strand ; 
 And the wind is wafting our stately ship 
 
 Away from the Father-land ! 
 
 III. 
 
 And vainly, vainly we gaze and weep, 
 
 As its hills recede from view ; 
 While, with aching bosom and quivering lip, 
 
 We murmur a last adieu ! 
 The evening o'ershadows the ocean's face, 
 
 And, ere morning come again, 
 Oh ! vainly, vainly we'll seek to trace 
 
 Their peaks lost in the main. 
 
 IV. 
 
 We go to a warmer clime than ours, — 
 WTiere the flower perennial blooms ; 
 
 Where the grapes are falling in purple showers, 
 And the birds have rainbow plumes :
 
 THE emigrant's FAREWELL. 183 
 
 We go where the broad, deep river flows 
 
 O'er diamonds and golden sand ; 
 Where the rich and bounteous earth bestows 
 
 Her gifts with prodigal hand. 
 
 V. 
 
 We have left the home where our fathers dwelt 
 
 On the sheltering mountain-side, 
 And the desolate hearths where our fathers knelt 
 
 In prayer at even-tide : 
 We have left the glen where the wild-flowers burst 
 
 On the bank beside the stream, — 
 But visions of these that lit the first, 
 
 Shall light life's latest dream !
 
 184 POEMS. 
 
 SNOWDROPS. 
 
 Earliest of all the year, 
 Pale flowers, the fii-st in Flora's vernal wreath ! 
 Amid this scene of desolation di*ear 
 
 Sweetly ye breathe ; 
 
 Unfolding your young leaves 
 To winds that shake the tree, and cui'l the brook ; 
 The unkindness of an angry sky receives 
 
 Your opening look : 
 
 Yet, on your tender stalks 
 Of fresh bright green, in graceful wreathes ye twine, 
 Making the wood-paths and the garden-walks 
 
 "With beauty shine !
 
 SNOWDROPS. 185 
 
 And beautiful, among 
 This waste of withered leaves, your blossoms gleam — 
 Breaking the speU that held them in their long 
 
 And troubled dream. 
 
 Their vestal brightness sheds 
 A glow of holy radiance far around, 
 Shaming the winter snow that overspreads 
 
 The frozen ground. 
 
 Sweet thoughts to me ye bring 
 Of all that soon shall follow in your train, 
 When the reviving coronal of Spring 
 
 Shall bloom again — 
 
 Violet and pale primrose — 
 The crocus and the wood-anemone — 
 The daisy, and the buttercup that grows 
 
 Upon the lea : — 
 
 q2
 
 186 POEMS. 
 
 Of music in the woods, 
 From bird, and stream, and thickening foliage borne- 
 Of fragrance, breathing from the snowy buds 
 
 That grace the thorn : — 
 
 Of winds that waft the bee 
 Forth from the silence of its winter cell — 
 Of wandering echoes, bearing sounds of glee 
 
 Throughout the dell. 
 
 For the awakening earth 
 At Nature's call her offerings shall yield ; 
 And bud, and leaf, and blossom have their birth 
 
 In wood and field : 
 
 And, even where ye now smile. 
 With your pale starry bloom and leaves of green, 
 A thousand gaudier flowers shall spring, the while 
 
 Ye are unseen.
 
 SNOWDROPS. 187 
 
 Yet, 'mid the summer bowers, 
 That clothe with light the field— the grove— the hill, 
 With me your memory, solitary flowers, 
 
 Shall linger still, 
 
 As thoughts of boyhood's hours. 
 Which, in maturity, we brood upon — 
 Thoughts that steal o'er us like the breath of flowers 
 
 Whose bloom is gone.
 
 188 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 Our life, even from its dawning hour 
 
 To its declining day, 
 Hath oft been likened to the flower 
 
 That blooms but to decay. 
 
 'Tis so — yet though the flower may die, 
 
 Its seeds are left behind, 
 Which may be trodden where they lie, 
 
 Or scatter'd by the wind ; — 
 
 But are not lost, for when the gloom 
 
 Of winter passes by. 
 They spring again to light and bloom. 
 
 Beneath a mUder sky.
 
 IMPROMPTU. 189 
 
 As with the flower, so 'tis with man, — 
 
 He sinks into the tomb ; 
 Closed is his short and chequered span, 
 
 And tixed his mortal doom ; 
 
 But, there is fai* beyond the skies 
 A brighter world than this, 
 
 Where his unfettered soul shall rise 
 To scenes of future bliss !
 
 190 POEMS. 
 
 TO IN ABSENCE. 
 
 " The fondest thoughts two hearts can cherish, 
 When each is lonely duomed to weep, 
 Are fruits on desert isles that perish, 
 Or riches buried in the deep." 
 
 CamfSell. 
 
 Dearest, fairest, kindest one ! 
 Thou art not for ever gone — 
 Like the dream that comes not back, 
 On us in life's future track ; 
 Or the meteor from the air. 
 Leaving gloom and silence, there.
 
 TO IN ABSENCE. 191 
 
 Absence may conceal a while 
 The gladdening beauty of thy smile ; 
 And thy dark and flashing eye 
 May beam beneath a distant sky ; 
 While that silvery voice of thine 
 Falls on other ears than mine. 
 
 But thine image haunts me yet — 
 Lovely, as when last we met ; 
 Still the parting words that fell 
 From thy lips, which spoke farewell, 
 Live in Fancy's wakeful ear. 
 True as though thou stiU wert near. 
 
 With the morn's awakening light, 
 
 Thou art ever in my sight — 
 
 Still, where'er my footsteps stray, 
 
 Thou art with me in the day ; 
 
 And when sleep comes stealing o'er me, 
 
 Thou art in a dream before me !
 
 192 POEMS. 
 
 For I know that thou hast not 
 Thy true-plighted faith forgot : 
 Even as my own thoughts flow, 
 Thine for ever come and go, 
 Like the distant orb whose reign 
 Rules the waters of the main. 
 
 Like miser that rejoices o'er 
 The increase of his hidden store, 
 With an anxious heart will I 
 Count each hour that passes by, 
 Till that welcome hour shall be 
 When thou ai-t restored to me.
 
 A SMILE. 193 
 
 SONNET A SMILE. 
 
 A SMILE is on thy face — and such a smile ! 
 
 Oh ! not the morn, when its awakening gleam 
 Is shed o'er lake and hill and verdant isle, 
 
 Can be more lovely ! — Not the noon-day beam. 
 With its fuU glow of radiance, rich and warm, 
 
 Can be more cheering ! — Not the evening hour, 
 With all its dewy softness, hath a charm 
 
 Of peacefulness o'er Nature's face to shower, 
 Like the calm beauty of that smile of thine ! 
 
 What eloquence of language speaketh there. 
 Of thoughts within thy breast — a vestal shrine 
 
 Of gentle feelings it were bliss to share ; 
 Of love which, wakened once, could never alter ; 
 Of faith which, plighted once, could never palter !
 
 194 POEMS. 
 
 THE MARINER'S SONG. 
 
 Oh ! merrily and gallantly 
 
 "We sweep across the seas, 
 Like the wild ocean-birds which ply 
 
 Their pinions on the breeze ; 
 We (}uail not at the tempest's voice, 
 
 Wlien the billow dashes o'er us — 
 Firm as a rock, we bear the shock, 
 
 And join its dreadful chorus ! 
 
 Across the foaming surge we glide, 
 With bosoms true and brave ; 
 
 It is our home — our throne of pride,- 
 It soon may be our grave !
 
 THE mariner's SONG. 195 
 
 Yet fearlessly we rush to meet 
 
 The foe that comes before us ; 
 The fight begun, we man the gun, 
 
 And join its thundering chorus ! 
 
 Our lives may be as fierce and free 
 
 As the waves o'er which we roam, 
 But let not landsmen think that we 
 
 Forget our native home ; 
 And when the winds shall waft us back 
 
 To the shores from which they bore us, 
 Amid the throng of mirth and song 
 
 We'U join the jovial chorus !
 
 196 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 SONNET TO 
 
 Ever and ever, love ! could I repose 
 
 Enraptured thus, upon thy gentle breast, 
 And feel tlie throbbing of each pulse that flows 
 
 "Within : I'd seek no dearer place of rest. 
 Ever and evei", dearest ! could I gaze 
 
 On those intelligent — those beaming eyes — 
 Brighter and purer than the jewel's rays, 
 
 And softer than the light of starry skies. 
 Ever and ever, sweetest ! could I hear, 
 
 "With deep delight, those melting tones whicli now 
 Arise, like fairy music, in mine ear, 
 
 Or playful murmuring of streams that flow 
 O'er glittering pebbly sands — whereon the smile 
 Of the bright noon is shed — like thine on me the while !
 
 SONNET. 197 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 H FINE UNDE) 
 STORM." PAINTED BY HORATIO m'CULLOCH, ESQ. 
 
 My blessings on thee, Painter ! thou hast tauglit 
 Nature submission to thine art's deep spell ; 
 
 Here wind and wave are in their fury caught, 
 And fix'd by Genius, evermore to dwell. 
 
 The stern old trees that bend before the blast 
 Which rides in sudden gusts o'er sea and land ; 
 
 The shallop on the deep careering fast 
 
 Before the storm, to reach the welcome strand ; 
 
 The heavy clouds that veil the mountain's brow — 
 The straggling mists hovering around its base, 
 Blent with the sunshine, shed, in partial rays. 
 
 Upon the bosom of the lake below : 
 
 These own the presence of a master's hand, 
 And seem as summoned forth by some magician's wand ! 
 
 1832. 
 a 2
 
 198 POEMS. 
 
 BONNY MARY GRMME. 
 
 Oh ! whar hae ye been roamin' — whar liae ye been 
 roamin' — 
 
 Whar hae ye been roamin', bonny Mary Graeme ? 
 Whai' hae ye been roamin' this caukl dowie gloamin' — 
 
 Whar hae ye been roamin', sae far awa frae hame ? 
 
 The tear is in your e'e — was't the pearly 4ew that sent 
 it?— 
 It used na' sae to be, l)onny Mary Grasme ! 
 There's a glow on your cheek — was't the damask rose 
 that lent it ? — 
 O, what gars ye greet, or what gars ye think shame ? ^
 
 BONNY MARY GEJ.ME. 199 
 
 There's CcOre upon your brow — ill fa' tlie hau' that 
 wroucht it ! 
 There's sorrow in your bosom, bonny Mary Grteme ! 
 Sae blythsome as ye used to be, 0, wha could e'er hae 
 thocht it ! — 
 Somebody or ither has been sair — sair to blame ! 
 
 Your step, that was sae lichtsome, gangs creepin' slow and 
 eerie, 
 An' sair your voice is alter'd, bonny Mary Graame ! 
 A canker's in the bud that micht hae bloomed sae cheery, 
 Gin he had kept his faith to thee — bonny Mary 
 Gramme !
 
 200 POEMS. 
 
 A FAREWELL TO THE LYRE. 
 
 I. 
 
 A FAREWELL song to thee, my Lyre ! — a ftu-ewell song to 
 
 thee ! 
 Thou solace of my sadder hours — thou chastener of my 
 
 glee; 
 One parting song I wake on thee, and, its vibrations past, 
 My dream of melody is o'er, for tliis shall be the last. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet, though along thy chords no more my fingers may be 
 
 brought, 
 I do not spurn thee as a thing neglected or forgot ; 
 The echoes of departed strains in memory's ear shall wake, 
 And, as some sacred relic, I will prize thee for their sake.
 
 A FAREWELL TO THE LYRE. 201 
 
 III. 
 
 All things that could have called to life thy latent 
 
 melody, 
 Are still as lovely unto me as they were in days gone by ; 
 Though silently the tide of thought henceforth must flow 
 
 along — 
 The flashing of the summer brook, without its voice of 
 
 song ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The beautiful of air and earth are still beloved by me, 
 As when I sung their praise at first, my treasured Lyre, 
 
 on thee — 
 The whispers of the southern wind among the forest 
 
 boughs — 
 The colours of the violet, the fragrance of the rose. 
 
 V. 
 
 Affection in my bosom hath a fountain deep as ever ; 
 
 I feel that from tlie friends I love 'twere agony to sever ;
 
 202 POEMS. 
 
 And cOll high deeds of woman's truth, or chivahy in man, 
 Can send the blood throughout my veins as swift as e'er it 
 ran. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Across the rippling waves I bound, joyfully as of yore. 
 
 Or meditate as trancjuilly at eve along the shore : 
 
 The shadows of the twilight hour around my steps may 
 
 fall— 
 The dews come down — the stars shine out — I love them 
 
 each and all. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yet though unchanged my feelings be in every varied 
 
 mood, 
 The impulses which quickened these are softened and 
 
 subdued : 
 Religion, Poesy, and Love — cherished so well — so long, 
 On thy foi-bidden strings, my Lyre ! shall breathe no more 
 
 in song !
 
 A FAREWELL TO THE LYRE. 203 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then farewell unto thee, my Lyi'e ! — a long farewell to 
 
 thee ! 
 Thou solace of my sadder hours — thou chastener of my 
 
 glee : — 
 This song alone I wake on thee, and, these vibrations past, 
 My dream of melody is o'er, for it shall be the last ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
 MUIR, G0HAN8, & CO. PaiNTEUS, GLASGOW.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES. 
 
 James Aikmati, Dublin. 
 
 Peter Aikman, do. 
 
 Henry Alexander, Collector of Customs, Dundee. 
 
 Walter Alexander, 132, Queen Street, Glasgow. 
 
 Walter Alexander, do. 
 
 David Allan, do., two copies. 
 
 John Allan, do, 
 
 William Allan, do. 
 
 Scott Alston, do. 
 
 William C. Alston, do. 
 
 Robert Anderson, do. 
 
 William Anderson, do. 
 
 William Anderson, 62, Hutcheson Street, do. 
 
 William Anderson, Dublin. 
 
 A. S. Anderson, High Street, Glasgow. 
 
 William Armstrong, Dundee. 
 
 Peter Arnott, Hutchesontown. 
 
 Thomas Aucott, Glasgow. 
 
 Thomas Auld, do. 
 
 James Bain, do. 
 
 Douglas Baird, Gartsherrie. 
 
 George Baird, do.
 
 206 subscribers' names. 
 
 James Baird, Gartshcrrie. 
 
 John Baird, do. 
 
 Robert Baird, do. 
 
 Mrs. A, H. Bald, Morton Cottage. 
 
 Mrs. James Balderston, Glasgow. 
 
 Alexander Bannatyne, do., five copies. 
 
 Thomas Barclay, do. 
 
 John Barr, do. 
 
 James Barr, do. 
 
 Alexander Barron, Hutchesontown. 
 
 Ben. Barton, Glasgow. 
 
 James Begg, do. 
 
 James Black, do. 
 
 James Black, Gallon. 
 
 John W. Black, Glasgow. 
 
 James Bogle, Bath Street, do. 
 
 D. A. Borrenstein, do. 
 
 J. Borrows, do. 
 
 David Bowie, do. 
 
 James Boyd, do. 
 
 William Bremner, Dundee. 
 
 George Bridges, Glasgow. 
 
 John Broadley, do. 
 
 Robert Brock, do. 
 
 Robert Brown, do. 
 
 R. K. Brown, 77, Hope Street, do, 
 
 William Brown, Jun. 77, St. Vincent Street, do., three copies. 
 
 Andrew Browning, do. 
 
 Miss M. Browning, do. 
 
 John Brownlie, do. 
 
 W. A. Buchan, Irvine. 
 
 James Buchanan, Glasgow. 
 
 Moses Buchanan, do., two copies. 
 
 Thomas Buchanan, Jun., Dunlop Street, do.
 
 SUBSCEIBERS' NAMES. 207 
 
 The Hon. James Campbell, Lord Provost of Glasgow, four copies, 
 
 William Campbell, of Tillichewan Castle, ten copies. 
 
 David Campbell, Edinburgh. 
 
 Alexander Campbell, Glasgow. 
 
 James Campbell, Edinburgh. 
 
 James Campbell, Glasgow. 
 
 Colin Cameron, Dublin Street, Edinburgh. 
 
 Hugh Cameron, Glasgow. 
 
 Martin Cameron, do. 
 
 Matthew B. Caldwell, do. 
 
 Edward Carse, do. 
 
 Alexander Chalmers, Hope Street, do. 
 John S. Charteris, do. 
 
 A. Stewart Cleland, do. 
 
 James Clerk, Miller Street, do. 
 
 Geo. W. Clark, do. 
 
 John Clark, Writer, do. 
 
 J. K. Clark, Woodside. 
 
 Robert Clark, of Newhouse. 
 
 R. A. Clunie, Glasgow. 
 
 William Cochran, do. 
 
 Hugh Cogan, do. 
 
 William Couper, Dublin. 
 
 James Craig, Glasgow. 
 
 John Craig, Eagleshara. 
 
 Thomas Cree, Glasgow. 
 
 William Cruickshank, do. 
 
 Peter Gumming, Albany Place, do. 
 
 Archd. Cunningham, do. 
 
 Gilbert Currie, do. 
 Alexander Currie, do. 
 
 John Cuthberson, do. 
 
 James Dale, Miller Street, do. 
 Alexander Dewar, Dundee.
 
 208 subscribers' names. 
 
 Matthew Dick, of Meikle Earnock, ten copies. 
 
 Peter Dick, Glasgow. 
 
 James Dickson, do. 
 
 Henry Dixon, Dublin. 
 
 John Donaldson, Glasgow, five copies. 
 
 John Donaldson, do. 
 
 Robert Donaldson, do. 
 
 Hugh Donnan, Dublin. 
 
 Andrew Dow, Glasgow. 
 
 John Downie, do. 
 
 Rev. D. B. Douie. 
 
 John Dron, Glasgow. 
 
 James Drummond, do. 
 
 Alexander Duncan, Buchanan Street, do. 
 
 David Dunn, do. 
 
 Thomas Dunn, do., three copies. 
 
 James Dunn, Hutchesontown. 
 
 Wm. Leckie Ewing, of Shergarton. 
 J. A. EastoD, M.D., two copies. 
 
 Rev. John Fairbairn, Castle Street, Edinburgh. 
 
 Samuel Falconer, Glasgow. 
 
 George Falkner, Manchester. 
 
 William Ferguson, Glasgow. 
 
 Hugh Ferrier, Gl, Buccleugh Street, do. 
 
 Edward Fitzgerald, Dublin. 
 
 William Fitzpatrick, do. 
 
 Thomas H. Fogo, Edinburgh. 
 
 George Forrest, Anderston. 
 
 John Forrester, Gordon Street, Glasgow.. 
 
 Rev. John Frazer, do. 
 
 Peter Frazer, Dublin. 
 
 George Galbraith.
 
 subscribers' names. 209 
 
 T. \V. Gardener, Glasgow. 
 
 William Gemmil, do. 
 
 James Gibson, Virginia Street, do. 
 
 James Gibson, do. 
 
 David Gilmour, do. 
 
 William Gilmour, Writer, do. 
 
 William Gilmour, do. 
 
 Henry Goppy, do. 
 
 Robert Goppy, do. 
 
 George Gordon, do. 
 
 Alexander Graham, do. 
 
 Charles Maxwell Graham, do. 
 
 David Graham, do. 
 
 James Graham, Jun., do. 
 
 James Graham, do. 
 
 James Granger, do., two copies. 
 
 John Granger, do. 
 
 Henry Grandison, Dublin. 
 
 Andrew Gray, Glasgow. 
 
 Andrew Gray. 
 
 Mrs. John G. Gullan, do. 
 
 John G. Gullan, do. 
 
 Charles Hamilton, do. 
 
 James Hamilton, King Street, do. 
 
 James Hamilton, High Street, do. 
 
 Robert Burns Hardy, do. 
 
 George Harrower, do. 
 
 Archilialil Hill, Jamaica Street, do. 
 
 Archibald Hill, Renfield Street, do. 
 
 Robert Hill, Writer, do. 
 
 Thomas liill, do. 
 
 Thoma- Hill, do. 
 
 Harvey Hiiliuni. do. 
 
 Thomas tliiishaw, do. 
 
 s2
 
 21<^ subscribers' names. 
 
 M. J. Holland, Glasgow. 
 
 James Howie, Writer, do. 
 
 Alexander Hume, do. 
 
 Hugh Hunter, do. 
 
 James Hunter, do. 
 
 John Hunter, St. Enoch Square, do. 
 
 William Hunter, do., two copies. 
 
 Thomas Hutcheson, Union Street, do. 
 
 William Hutcheson, do., two copies. 
 
 Mrs. John Johnston, Parkhead. 
 John Johnson, Glasgow. 
 Robert Johnston, Garngad Hill, do. 
 William Johnston, do. 
 
 Alexander Kay, do. 
 
 John Kiiy, do. 
 
 Thomas Kay, do. 
 
 William Kay, Virginia Street, do. 
 
 William Keddie, do. 
 
 James Kelt, do. 
 
 Thomas Kennedy, do. 
 
 Archibald Kerr, do. 
 
 Robert Ker, do, 
 
 John Kincaid, do. 
 
 John Laing, Stirling's Road, do. 
 
 Robert Lamond, Writer, do. 
 
 William Lamont, Jun., do. 
 
 William Lang, do. 
 
 Alex. Lawrie, 69, Ingram Street, do. 
 
 James Lawrie, do. 
 
 John Laurie, Regent Terrace, do, 
 
 John Lawrie, Queen Street, do. 
 
 James Lawcock, do.
 
 subscribers' names. 211 
 
 William Leckie, Glasgow. 
 
 George Lockie, Manchester. 
 
 William Lockhart, of Milton Lockhart, M. P. 
 
 Robert Lockhart, Miller Street, Glasgow. 
 
 Rev. Laurence Lockhart, Inchinnan. 
 
 William Loehead, Glasgow. 
 
 Andrew Logan, do. 
 
 Andrew Logan, Jun., do. 
 
 William Lyon, London Street, do. 
 
 Arthur M'Arthur, do. 
 
 David M'Arthur, Greenock. 
 
 Thomas M'Call, Miller Street, Glasgow, 2 copies. 
 
 John M'Callura, do. 
 
 John M'Clymont, St. Rollox. 
 
 Andrew Maclure, 3, Maxwelton Place, 
 
 Horatio Macculloch, Edinburgh. 
 
 Samuel Macculloch, Glasgow. 
 
 George M'Coy, Dublin. 
 
 Daniel M'Donald, Glasgow. 
 
 James iM'Donald, do., two copies. 
 
 John M'Donald, do. 
 
 John M'Dougall, do. 
 
 Neil Macdougal, do. 
 
 Andrew A. Macfarlan, do., six copies. 
 
 David Macfarlane, do. 
 
 James Macfarlane, London Street, do. 
 
 John Macfarlane, do. 
 
 Robert Macfarlane, do. 
 
 Peter Macfarlane, do. 
 
 Alexander M'Gregor, do. 
 
 Duncan M'Gregor, do. 
 
 John Macharg, do. 
 
 Thomas Macindoe, do. 
 
 Robert M'Kay, Edinburgh.
 
 212 subscribers' names. 
 
 Peter M'Kay, Edinburgh. 
 
 David iM'KendricIv, Glasgow, two copies. 
 
 Daniel M'Kcnzie, Jun., do. 
 
 Alexander Mackerracher, Glasgow. 
 
 John M'Lachlan, do. 
 
 Charles M'Laren, do. 
 
 John M'Laren, do. 
 
 Peter M'Nair, do. 
 
 Daniel Macnee, do. 
 
 William M'Neil, do. 
 
 Andrew M'Tear, do. 
 
 John M'Whirter, do. 
 
 John Marshall, do. 
 
 Robert Martin, do. 
 
 John Hall Martin, do. 
 
 John Mather, do. 
 
 Alexander Maxton, do. 
 
 Thomas Maxwell, Miller Street, do. 
 
 Rev. Neil M'Michael, Dunfermline, two copies. 
 
 J. Meikle, Mauchiine. 
 
 James Meiklejohn, Glasgow. 
 
 Robert Meiklem, Edinburgh. 
 
 Andrew Miller, Glasgow. 
 
 George Miller, do. 
 
 James Miller, Gordon Street, do. 
 
 James Miller, Nelson Street, do. 
 
 James Miller, 14, Leopold Place, Edinburgh. 
 
 James E. Miller, Roxburgh Street, do. 
 
 James Miller, London Street, Glasgow. 
 
 John S. Miller, Springfield, 
 
 Hugh Miller, Provan Mill. 
 
 William Aliller, Campbell Street, Glasgow. 
 
 William Millor, ."U, Argyle Street, do. 
 
 William Mil er, do. 
 
 William Miichison, do.
 
 subscribers' names. 213 
 
 John Mitchell, Glasgow. 
 
 John Mitchell, Surgeon, Mauchline, 
 
 Robert Moffat, Glasgow. 
 
 Robert P. Monach, do. 
 
 Adam Monteith, Writer, do. 
 
 James More, do. 
 
 Hugh Morton, Wilson Street, do. 
 
 James Morrison, Writer, St. Vincent Street, do. 
 
 John Morrison, do. 
 
 William Mossman, do. 
 
 William Muir, Oswald Street, do. 
 
 James Munro, do. 
 
 John Murray, Edinburgh. 
 
 Thomas Muter, 131, Ingram Street, Glasgow. 
 
 William Naismith, do. 
 
 Gabriel Neil, do., two copies, 
 
 John Neilson, do., six copies, 
 
 Thomas Neilson, do., two copies. 
 
 Patrick Neilson, of Camoquhill. 
 
 James Newlands, Argyle Square, Edinburgh. 
 
 John Newlands, do. do. 
 
 Matthew Nisbet, Glasgow. 
 
 Andrew S. Ogle, do. 
 
 David Orr, five copies. 
 
 John Orry, five copies. 
 
 G. M. Osborne, M.D., Dundee. 
 
 H. S. Osborne, Glasgow. 
 
 Robert Osbourne, do. 
 
 James Owen, do. 
 
 James Pagan, do. 
 Andrew Pargellis, do. 
 Andrew Park, do.
 
 214 subscribers' names. 
 
 James Parker, Gallowgate, Glasgow, two copies. 
 
 John Parker, Dublin, two copies. 
 
 John Parker, Greyfriars' Parish School, Glasgow. 
 
 Robert Parker, Washington Street, do., 2 copies. 
 
 Robert Parker, Sen., do. 
 
 Peter Parker, do. 
 
 William Parker, do., two copies. 
 
 John Paterson, Parkhead. 
 
 John Patterson, Dublin. 
 
 Robert Paterson, Trongate, Glasgow. 
 
 Andrew Paton, Moodie's Court, do. 
 
 John Patrick, Cochran Street, do. 
 
 George Paul, do. 
 
 James Paulin, Dublin. 
 
 Robert Pollock, Jackton, East Kilbride. 
 
 William Primrose, Tradeston. 
 
 John Reid, Glasgow. 
 
 John Reid, Dublin. 
 
 James Ritchie, Miller Street, Glasgow. 
 
 William Ritchie, do. 
 
 David Robertson, do., two copies. 
 
 John Robertson, do. 
 
 John Robertson, Argyle Arcade, do. 
 
 J. H. Robertson, Greenock. 
 
 Robert Robertson, Miller Street, Glasgow. 
 
 Thomas Robertson, do. 
 
 Mrs. John Rowan, do. 
 
 Michael Rowan, do, 
 
 George Rule, Dublin. 
 
 Bernard Russell, do. 
 
 David Russell, do. 
 
 John Russell, do. 
 
 James Rutherford, do.
 
 subscribers' names. 215 
 
 Peter Salmon, Glasgow, two copies. 
 
 Alexander Sclanders, do. 
 
 Robert Sclater, Jun., Edinburgh. 
 
 Alexander Scott, Glasgow. 
 
 Mrs. James Scott, Candleriggs, do. 
 
 John G. Scott, do. 
 
 W. A. C. Shand, St. Petersburgh, three copies. 
 
 Mrs. John Shaw, Glasgow. 
 
 Archibald Shearer, do. 
 
 Alexander Sibbald, do. 
 
 George Sim, do. 
 
 William Singleton, Dublin. 
 
 A. Smith, Argyle Street, Glasgow. 
 
 David Smith, do. 
 
 James Sommervllle, Hanover Street, Edinburgh. 
 
 Mrs. George Steel, Garngad Hill. 
 
 William Steele, Glasgow. 
 
 William Steel, do. 
 
 F. B. Strathern, do. 
 
 James Swan, Gordon Street, do. 
 
 John Swan, do. do. 
 
 George Tait, do. 
 
 John Tait, do., two copies. 
 
 John Tassie, Coltston Hill. 
 
 Henry Taylor, Jun., Glasgow. 
 
 Henry Taylor, Tertius, do. 
 
 William Taylor, do. 
 
 Andrew Thomson, Bridgeton. 
 
 John Thomson, Glasgow. 
 
 George Thorburn, Jun., do. 
 
 John Todd, Sauchiehall Street, do. 
 
 John S. Todd, do. 
 
 James Turnbull, Bothwellbank Cottage.
 
 216 subscribers' names. 
 
 John Ure, Glasgow. 
 H. R. Urquhart, Largs. 
 
 Andreiv A. Waddell, Glasgow. 
 
 Archibald Waddell, do. 
 
 Robert Wallace, do. 
 
 Alexander Walker, do. 
 
 Matthew Walker, Partick. 
 
 William Watson, Glasgow. 
 
 William Watson, Adelphi Street, Hutchesontown. 
 
 Gilbert Watson, Glasgow. 
 
 George Weir, Tradeston. 
 
 William Welsh, Kilsyth. 
 
 John Williamson, Glasgow. 
 
 Robert White, Garthland Street, do. 
 
 Alexander Whitelaw, Stanhope Place, do. 
 
 James Whitelaw, do. 
 
 William Wighton, do. 
 
 Hugh Wilson, do. 
 
 James Wilson, do. 
 
 A. R. Wilson, do, 
 
 John Wright, do., three copies. 
 
 Malcolm Wright, do. 
 
 Miss P. Woodrow, Viewfield. 
 
 Matthew Wotherspoon, Glasgow. 
 
 James Young, Busby. 
 John Young, Glasgow. 
 
 James Kay, do, 
 William Simpson, do. 
 
 MUIR, GOWANS, & CO. PRINTERS.
 
 ADDITIONAL SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES, 
 
 RECEIVED SINCE THE PRECEDING LIST WAS PRINTED. 
 
 Rev. Dr. Black, Barony, Glasgow. 
 
 Rev. Thomas Brydson. 
 
 Samuel Clarke, George Street, Glasgow. 
 
 Mrs. Thomas Dunn, do. 
 
 James Hedderwick, Jun., Edinburgh. 
 
 Miss Charlotte Lockhart, Sussex Place, London. 
 
 J. G. Lockhart, do. do. 
 
 Walter Scott Lockhart, do. do. 
 
 Miss Murray, Glasgow. 
 
 James Soiiter, Bridge Street, do.
 
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