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 l^knm ml fsuntis.
 
 THE 
 
 ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS, 
 
 WITH 
 
 Elinor ynBins. 
 
 ALSO, 
 
 SPARE MOMENTS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 BY LOUISA SHAW, 
 
 AUTHORESS OF "ZULEIKA," AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 " Once more the eternal melodies from far, 
 Woo me like Songs of home." — Hema.vs. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Sinipkin, Marshall & Co. ; 
 
 LEAMINGTON : Tajior, Glover & Co. Victoria Terrace; 
 
 Warwick : Henry Sharpe. 
 
 1850.
 
 Cooper and Son, Printers, Jury Street, Wanvick.
 
 TO 
 
 MISS SMYTIIE, 
 
 (of LEAMIN'GTOV.) 
 
 WHOSE VIRTUES ARE A FITTING SHRINE 
 
 FOIl 
 
 THE RUDE, YET EARxNEST OUTPOUKINGS OF 
 
 A 
 
 cT'rntlf'lnuing ^}lmt; 
 
 AVD 
 
 TO WHOSE FRIENDSHIP AND KINDNESS 
 
 THE AUTHORESS 
 
 rAKES A PLEASURE IN ACKNOWLEDGING SHE OWES 
 AN EVERLASTING DEBT OF GRATITUDE, 
 
 (T'ljis iJnlinnp 
 
 IS INSCRIBED. 
 
 ^ ■•■■ •. .'■^ •''"'• ^*^-^
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE very act of publishing ones thoughts would 
 seem to indicate a love of popularity — a desire 
 for the world's applause, but with me, it is not so ; 
 for although a few words of approval and encourage- 
 ment from the good and wise, the warm-hearted 
 and true, would be to me as a spring of water in 
 the wilderness to the weary traveller ; or, as the 
 rope thrown to the sinking mariner over the dark 
 and boisterous billow ; yet, to be the idol of a 
 crowd, — to have my name wafted abroad by the 
 " Trumpet- tongue of Fame," is not my object, for 
 to echo one of the many beautiful sentiments of 
 our own immortal Bard, — 
 
 " I hold the world, but as the world, — 
 
 A stage, where every man must play his part."
 
 IV 
 
 The rose blooms in its marvellous beauty in the 
 
 barren desert, undiscovered by man ; — our sweetest 
 
 songster, the Nightingale, seeks the secluded 
 
 grove, the rude copse, from whence to pour his 
 
 lays of enchanting melody. The precious pearl 
 
 content in its homely oyster-dwelling, floats far 
 
 away unseen in the depths of the dark blue ocean. 
 
 The transparent lily is found in the lone and lowly 
 
 vale ; the meek violet too, hides herself from the 
 
 passing gaze beneath the sheltering hedgerow, all 
 
 alike unheedful of the " praise of men ;" and my 
 
 Muse would be well content to tread in the same 
 
 path of glorious humility, to imitate so bright an 
 
 example, — but " Duty"' is the guide and watchword 
 
 of this world's Pilgrims, and I may not shrink from 
 
 following its onward track. With a pure motive 
 
 therefore to fortify the mind, and a right cause to 
 
 inspire the soul with energy, I launch yet again, 
 
 with a fearless hand, my treasure-laden Barque on 
 
 the wild, and it may be treacherous wave; and 
 
 whether the gale destined to bear it to the goal be 
 
 smooth and prosperous, or rough and adverse, it 
 
 can neither elate nor depress too much the heart 
 
 that can whisper to itself with humble, but sweet 
 
 assurance, 
 
 " My Father's at the helm, " 
 
 To the disposal of a kind Providence I commit 
 the welfare of my Volume, and though, jierchance)
 
 some ill-favoured weeds may he found amongst the 
 few gems that adorn its pages, the Reader must be 
 content, like the assiduous gold-seeker, to be an- 
 noyed at times with dust and rubbish, if he find but 
 here and there a vein of the precious ore. 
 
 " In this hurrying and deceitful world, no page 
 will be written utterly in vain which awakens one 
 earnest or heavenward thought — one hope or one 
 fear in the human heart." Thus wrote the gifted 
 but .ill-fated Mrs. Maclean, and emanating from 
 such a source, I trust I may be excused for suifering 
 such encouragement to have had its due weight in 
 the publication of the present Volume; and to con- 
 clude in the words of a young Scottish Poet, also 
 dead, but little known and less appreciated, — " For 
 the rest, I have written my heart in my Poems, 
 and rude, unfinished, and hasty as they are, it can. 
 be read there." 
 
 Warwick, JIartli, 1850.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Alston, Miss, Winson House, Leamington 
 
 Alston, J. F^sq., Leamington 
 
 Atty, Miss, Ingon Grange, Snitterfield 
 
 Acton, Mrs., Leamington 
 
 Allard, Mr. W., Worcester 
 
 Aitcheson, Miss, Leamington 
 
 Froke, Sir A. de Capel, Bart., Oalsley Hall, — 4 Copies 
 
 Broke, Miss de Capel 
 
 Bracebridge, C. Holt, Esq., Atherstone Hall 
 
 Bracebridge, W. H. Esq., Sherborne 
 
 Bateman, Mrs. Warwick, 
 
 Bury, Miss, Leamington 
 
 Bloxsidge, Mrs., Warwick 
 
 Birch, Mrs., Villa Doria, Leamington — 2 Copies 
 
 Bateman, C. Esq., Foleshill 
 
 Beak, Mrs., Manor House, Beckington 
 
 Baker, Mrs., Warwick 
 
 Browning, Miss, Blackheath 
 
 Blenkinsop, H. Esq., Warwick,— 4 Copies 
 
 Bellis, Miss, Chatham 
 
 Boucherett, Miss, Leamington 
 
 Rradshaw, Mrs, Johnson, Leamington 
 
 Bellairs, Rev. H., Rectory, Bcdworth— 2 Copies 
 
 Buller, Mrs., Leamington 
 
 Brett, Captain W. S. 
 
 Browne, Miss, Leamington 
 
 Bradley, H. Esq., Clent Hall, Stourbridge— 2 Copies 
 
 Bullock, Mr. C, Warwick 
 
 Carnegie, Lady, Dynevor House, Leamington 
 Caldecott, C. M. Esq,. Holdbrook Grange, Rugby 
 Chetwynd, G. Esq., Mancetter Lodge, Atherstone 
 Campbell, Mrs. Lyon, Leamington, — 2 Copies 
 CoUinson, Mrs., Leamington 
 Cattell, Mrs., WarAvick
 
 vn 
 
 Corbet, Lady, Chester 
 
 Chetwode, Miss, Leamington 
 
 Cookes, Mrs,, William, Warwick 
 
 Cookes, Mrs., Walter, Warwick 
 
 Cave, Mrs., Augusta Cottage, Leamington 
 
 Chester, Mrs., Leamington 
 
 Clarke, Mrs. T., Warwick 
 
 Court, Mrs. J., Warwick 
 
 Cooper, Mr. H. D., Warwick, — 2 Copies 
 
 Collins, Mr., Beckington 
 
 Douglas, Sir C. E. M.P., Wilton Crescent, London 
 
 Dassett, Mrs., Notting Hill, London 
 
 Dyer, Miss, Warwick 
 
 Dash wood. Miss, Leamington 
 
 Earle, Mrs., The Firs, Leamington 
 Eaton, Mrs., Leamington 
 Edmunds, Miss, Leamington 
 England, Mrs., Leamington 
 
 Fitzroy, Lady Laura, Chichester 
 
 Flood, Miss, Bertie House, Leamington 
 
 Flood, Miss M., Bertie House, Leamington 
 
 Foley, Miss, Leamington 
 
 loster, J. Esq., Stourton Castle, Stourbridge — 
 
 2 Copies 
 Farr, Mrs., Warwick 
 Freeman, Mr, T., Broughton 
 Foote, Mrs., Coventry 
 Fraser, Mrs., Alveston 
 Featherstone, Mrs., Packwood House, Leamington 
 
 Grimstone, Mrs., Douglas House, Leamington 
 
 Greenway, Mrs. K., Warwick 
 
 Greenway, Miss, Warwick 
 
 Grice, Mrs., Leamington 
 
 Gubbins, Miss, Leamington 
 
 George, Mr. C, Ombersley 
 
 Granville, Mrs., Leamington
 
 vni 
 
 Oalton, Mrs., Claverdon 
 
 Gregg, Mrs., Fillongley 
 
 Gascoigne, Miss, Parlington Hall, Tadcaster 
 
 Grimes, H. Esq., Leamington 
 
 Hodson, Sir G. Bart., Waterloo Place, Leamington 
 
 Harpur, H. R. Esq., Coton House, Nuneaton 
 
 Hampden, J. Esq., Ijeamington 
 
 Hamilton, Mrs. Hans, Leamington — 2 Copies 
 
 Hale, Mr. F., Beckington 
 
 Hale, Miss, Beckington 
 
 Heath, Mrs , Norton Lodge 
 
 Hopkins, Rev. W., Leamington 
 
 Hutton, Kev. Hugh, Seymour Place, Birmingham 
 
 Hornby, Rev. G., Bury, Lancashire 
 
 Harris, Rev. H. B. S., Warwick 
 
 Harris, Mrs., Warwick 
 
 Houghton, Mrs., Leamington, — 2 Copies 
 
 Hilton, Miss, Warwick 
 
 Harris, Mr. T., Cheltenham 
 
 Halford, Mrs., Priory Cottage, Warwick 
 
 Henty, Mr. H., London 
 
 Henty, Miss, Chatham 
 
 Jaggard, R. Esq., Leek Wootton 
 Jones, Mrs. W., Worcester 
 Jakeman, Mrs.. Warwick 
 
 Kilmorey, the Countess of, Denby Villa, Leamington, 
 
 4 Copies 
 Kennedy, R. Hartley, Esq., Notting Hill, London 
 Knowles, Mrs., Heysham Tower, Lancaster 
 Kimberley, Mr. G., Birmingham, — 3 Copies 
 
 Leigh, Right Hon. Lord, Stoneleigh Abbey 
 Leigh, Hon. Lady, Stoneleigh Abbey— 4 Copies 
 Leigh, J. W. B. Esq., Brownsover Hall, Rugby 
 Leigh, Miss, London 
 Lucy, Mrs., Charlecote Park 
 Lucy, Rev. John, Rectory, Hampton Lucy 
 Landor, Walter Savage, Esq., Bath 
 Lowther, Miss, Leamington
 
 IX 
 
 Lloyd, Mrs. Whitvvortli, Leamington 
 Lister, Miss, Dover 
 Lollard, Mr. L. Cheltenham 
 Lynd, Mrs., Leamington 
 Lewis, Mrs., Exhall, 
 
 Marsh, Rev.W., D.D-, Lansdowne House, Leamington 
 Marsh, Rev. W. Tilson, Ryde, Isle of Wight 
 Milhouse, Mrs., Cheshire 
 Mollady, E. Esq., Marble House, Warwick 
 Morrison, Miss, Cadogan Place, London 
 
 Nicks, T. Esq., Warwick 
 
 Nicks, Mrs, W., Well Spring Cottage, Gloucester 
 
 Nelson, Mrs. G., The Lawn, Warwick 
 
 Nevile, Mrs., Leamington 
 
 Newsam, Mrs., Warwick 
 
 Oglander, Lady Maria, Nunwell, Isle of Wight 
 Oglander, Miss, Ryde, Isle of Wight 
 Oglander, Miss C, Ryde 
 Olive, Mrs., Beckington 
 
 Perkins, Miss S., Sutton Coldfield 
 Philips, Miss M., Leamington 
 Parsons, Mrs. Joshua, Beckington 
 Pace, Mr. E. H., Pershore, — 2 Copies 
 
 Robarts, Mrs. A. G., Chesham Place, London 
 Redfern, Mrs. C , Warwick 
 Reeve, Mr. J., Coventry 
 
 Shuckburgh, Sir Francis, Bart., Shuckburgli Park 
 Skipwith, Sir G. Bart., Newbold Hall, Kugby 
 Skipwith, T. G. Esq., Newbold Hall, Rugby 
 Smith, G. T. Esq., Goldicote House, Stratford,— 
 
 3 Copies 
 Smith, H. Esq., The Wolds, Snitterfield 
 Shirley, Evelyn John, Esq., Eatington Park 
 Smythe, Miss, Leamington, — 2 Copies 
 Scott, Mrs. General, Leamington 
 Starr, T. H. Esq., M.D., Leamington
 
 Skene, Miss, Leamington — 2 Copies 
 Seagrave, Rev. S. Y., Barton Rectory 
 Snape, T. Esq., Warwick 
 Shee, Miss, Locksley, Herts, — 2 Copies 
 Stanley, Miss, Woodmancote 
 
 Twisleton, Hon. Mrs., Wood Lawn, Kenilworth 
 Thompson, Mrs. Lowther, Leamington 
 Tynte, Mrs. R., Brighton, — 2 Copies. 
 Tunnecliffe, W. Esq., Warwick 
 Trench, Mrs. F , Parlington Hall, Tadcaster 
 Tollemache, Miss, Leamington 
 Taylor, Theophilus, Esq., Warwick 
 Tredcroft, Mrs., Orleans House, Leamington 
 
 Warwick, the Countess of. Castle Park, Warwick 
 Willoughby de Broke, Hon. Lady, Compton Verney 
 Wilmot, Sir 11. Eardley, Bart., London 
 Whieldon, G. Esq., Springfield House, Coventry, 
 
 4 Copies 
 Whitmore, Mrs., Apley Park, Bridgenorth, — 2 Copies 
 Whitmore, Miss, Apley Park 
 Whitmore, H. Esq., ,, 
 Wright, Rev. W. D.D., Leamington 
 Walker, W. Esq., Warwick 
 Welby, Miss, Wingfield Villa, Leamington 
 Wilson, Captain F., 52nd. Regt., — 2 Copies 
 Watson, Rev. Joshua R., Warwick 
 Wise, Rev. H., Rectory, OflFchurch, — 2 Copies 
 Willes, Mrs. Charles, Offchurch 
 Wise, Mrs. M., Shrublands, Leamington 
 Waller, Mrs., The Grove, Tachbrooke 
 Wood, Mrs., Grosvenor Street, London 
 Whittaker, Mrs., Beckington 
 Woodward, H. Esq., Pershore 
 Woodward, Mrs., Pershore 
 Woodward, Miss, Boddington — 2 Copies 
 Wilson, Miss, Leamington 
 Waring, Mr. T., Warwick 
 Williams, Mrs., Coventry
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 The Isle of the Deathless, .. .. IS 
 
 Canto II, .. .. .. 41 
 
 Canto III, .. .. .. 67 
 
 The Approach of Spring, . . . . . . 79 
 
 The Poet to his Muse, . . . . . . go 
 
 The Sabbath Bell, .. .. ., 82 
 
 Rejoice Evermore, .. .. ,, 85 
 
 The Death Festival, . . . . . . 88 
 
 Fragment, .. .. .. ., 91 
 
 The Pursuit of Peace, . . . . . . 93 
 
 The Sophist, .. ., .. .. 97 
 
 Contemplation, .. .. .. .. jqo 
 
 The Spirit of Tasso to the Adorners of his Dead Body, 102 
 
 The Cross, . . , . . . . , 105 
 
 Fragment, .. .. .. .. 108 
 
 A Morning Rhapsody, .. .. .. no 
 
 Departed Genius, .. .. .. .. 113 
 
 Fragment, .. .. .. .. ]24 
 
 Aspiration, .. ,. ,. .. 125 
 
 The Pitcher Plant, . . . . . . . . 127 
 
 The Spirit's Light is Shining, ., .. .. 129 
 
 The Poet, .. .. .. .. 130 
 
 Happiness, .. .. .. .. 139 
 
 The Enthusiast, .. .. .. .. I4O 
 
 The Indian Wife, . . , . . . ^ , 143 
 
 " It is I, be not Afraid," .. .. .. 143 
 
 Death \vith the Poor, .. .. .. 15,) 
 
 The Mendicant's Confession, ,, .. ... 152 
 
 Love TTiou, .. .. .. ,. J57 
 
 The Voice of Spring, . , , , . . 159 
 Lines Suggested by an Inscription in Mllverton 
 
 Church-yard, .. .. .. igj 
 
 Notes to Poetical Pieces, . . . . . . i^g 
 
 •■^rAHE MoMKXTS— Conclusion, .. .. .=
 
 THE 
 
 ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS: 
 
 CANTO I.
 
 NoTE.(*)The following brief extract from a Work entitled "Irish 
 Rivers," suggested the writing of " The Isle of the Deathless." 
 "Mingled with this remarkable Legend, (a preceding one,) is 
 that beautiful one of 'Cambrensis,' not unconnected with the 
 Shannon, the ' Ursula Viventum,' or 'Island of the Undying.' 
 Often people are afflicted with disease in it, says the Old 
 Chronicler, and are almost in the agonies of death, yet such is 
 denied them. — When all hope is at an end, however, and the 
 sick wish not for a longer life of misery, they are put into a 
 little Boat and wafted over to the Land that they may 
 expire."
 
 THE 
 
 ISLE or THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 ^' I had a dream, which was not all a dream." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 " The mind can make 
 Substance, and people planets of its own 
 With beings brighter than have been, and give 
 A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh. 
 I would reeal a vision, which I dreamed 
 Perchance in sleep,— for in itself a thought — 
 A slumbering thought, is capable of years. 
 And curdles a long life into one hour." 
 
 Btron. 
 
 I saw in a dream the brilliant skies 
 
 Of a fabled earthly paradise, 
 
 An Isle of Beauty ! surpassing fair, 
 
 The treasures of earth seemed centred there ; 
 
 Its vales with perpetual verdure smiled, 
 
 In gazing the heart grew care-beguiled; 
 
 B
 
 16 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 And 1 ill my tlreaiuy, listless mooJ, 
 Saw in the depths of its solitude 
 Visions I fain would reveal to men — 
 Visions I ne'er may hehold again. 
 Oh ! there are dreams that leave behind 
 A las-ting impress on the mind — 
 Speak they of Love, Hope, Fear, or Jo}% 
 No after season may destroy 
 Their wondrous power, the woven spell 
 Whose mystic influence none may tell. 
 Of scenes revealed to flesh and sense, 
 And willed hy High Omnipotence ! 
 Thus Prophecy's bright wand is given 
 T' an arm of flesh by righteous Heav'n ! 
 And whispered words of warning come 
 Like Angel -tones to lure us home : 
 Etherealized by dreams like these 
 We hear wings rustle in the breeze — 
 Amased — 'inspired — we gaze aroHnd 
 On classic, pure, and holy ground ; 
 Conversing with the inhabitants 
 Of other worlds, the spirit pants 
 With a new life unknown before, 
 Nor perfect till we reach the shore 
 Where dreamings here, transmuted bi- 
 To Beautiful Ileality! 
 
 Beside me, (a^ witli liglituing glance,
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 17 
 
 I scanned the inner-world's romance, 
 
 And longed for revelations clear 
 
 Of all I saw, all I might hear ;) 
 
 A grave, yet placid being stood 
 
 Who seemed to guess my spirit's mood, — 
 For bending with a sad, sweet smile, 
 
 In deep soft tones he murmured low 
 " Can I a mortal's care beguile — 
 
 Will you not shrink as others do 
 Frojn me, the dread, the scourge of all, 
 
 Who the vast Globe terrestial fill? 
 For where God's awful voice may call 
 
 There — there submissive to His will 
 Am I, Death's Angel : by the side 
 
 Of Guilt or Innocence I stand. 
 None, as you know, my power derid?^ 
 
 Or can escape my blasting wand; 
 But sorely is my name belied 
 
 By the cold world's misjudging race. 
 Though some are found who there abide 
 
 That in my track a brightness trace. 
 These are the Meek, the Pure, and Holy, 
 
 The gems that light up Earth's dark mine, 
 Who live for Love and Duty wholly. 
 
 Yet for the palm-branch inly pine. 
 To the bereaved — the crushed — the lonely — 
 
 I am a Messenger of Love, 
 Sent from the Ark of Promise only 
 
 b2
 
 18 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 A charter to each trembling dove 
 Who finds the "Waters of Affliction— 
 
 Nor slacken, nor abate on earth, 
 And seeks from Heaven with sweet conviction 
 
 Some token of Diviner birth ! 
 But ah ! — the IMany shrink from me 
 
 As from a thing they loathe and scorn — 
 Though heirs of want and misery 
 
 And marked my prey from life's first dawn. 
 The Guilty — how they cringe and cower 
 
 Before the flashing of mine eye. 
 Writhe 'neath, yet madly curse my power. 
 
 And battle long with destiny. 
 The Guilty! — ah! 'tis them alone 
 
 That shrink from me with dastard fear, 
 I quell the lawless boaster's tone, 
 
 And check mad Folly's wild career : 
 These hate me,— why? Because I must 
 
 Them from the World's allurements sever ; 
 Remand their clay to kindred dust, 
 
 And bar them from its joys for ever. 
 Their name is Legion ! scarce a spot 
 
 Is from their soiled footprints free. 
 Like insects vile, whose crawlings blot 
 
 The path they press with infamy. 
 Yet fear not thou, but trust in me, 
 
 And bear, nor shrink, the world's disdain,- 
 For such I have a sympathy.
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. i'S 
 
 The Grave can ne'er such spirits chiun. 
 And yon sweet Isle of love and light, 
 
 So richly decked with Eden flowers — 
 With landscapes fair, and vallies bright, — 
 
 Blue skies — sweet streams — and starry bowers — 
 It hath a gift surpassing all, 
 
 Ev'n immortality on earth : 
 Yea there my shadow may not fall 
 
 To dim one eye — to cloud one hearth. 
 Then come with me, and I will show 
 
 Thfc workings of the human heart, — 
 Though but a Mortal, thou shalt know, 
 
 And share with me Diviner art ; 
 Come, come with me." — The last deep tone 
 Vibrated on my spirit lone, — 
 A music sad as moaning waves 
 That gently lave the shore's deep caves ; 
 Yet had it something of a spell, 
 Which soothed, subdued, and pleased me v;«ll. 
 The low winds scatt'ring autumn leaves. 
 Or playing 'mongst the harvest sheaves. 
 Would seem to symbolize the sound 
 I then distinctly heard around, 
 As, gently wafted through the air, , 
 I 'lighted on that Island fair : — 
 
 And there a lovely landscape 'fo«; me lay., 
 'Neath the calm beauty of a sky serene ; 
 
 My roving eye could with delight survey 
 
 b3
 
 20 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 For many leagues the same inspiring scene. 
 
 I gazed around o'er woods,an d dales, and hills, 
 O'er em'rald pastures of unnumbered shades ; 
 
 O'er banks of verdure fed by gushing rills. 
 O'er far dim forests with their opening glades ; 
 
 So boundless was the prospect which I saw, 
 Scarce the horizon seemed to curb my view^ 
 
 And wild the thought, perverting Nature's law, 
 Which made me wish to pierce that bound'ry too : 
 
 For "ah !" I said, "can Eden be more fair 
 Than this sweet Island, with its dove-like calm? 
 
 Here Peace, like Halcyon brooding o'er the deep, 
 Hovers to lull the soul with soothing balm." 
 
 A noble river rolled its silver stream 
 Hard by this Isle so bright in its repose, 
 
 Placid as infancy, e'er yet its dream 
 Is ruffled by Life's passions, or its woes ! 
 
 Soft southern -breezes fanned my cheek and brow. 
 And wafted to my senses odours sweet; 
 
 'Twas as Earth's choicest bowers had rifled been 
 To lay their fairest blossoms at my feet. 
 
 " Oh Heaven !" I murmured, "what a tranquil lot 
 Must theirs be found whose tents are pitched here — 
 
 The world forgetting — by the world forgot !! 
 No room for envy, and no cause for fear. 
 
 The feuds and discords of contending states, 
 "Wild disaifection's hoarse unmeasured tone 
 
 Resound not here ; — unknown the woe that waits
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 21 
 
 A rebel people, round a tott'ring throne : 
 
 The sun arises on no monarch here 
 With glitt'ring diadem his brow upon, 
 
 From whom, e'er closed is the Sun's brief career, 
 Crown, sceptre, throne, and name may all he gone : 
 
 Ah ! no, Sweet Isle ! mutations like to these 
 Bid not a shadow o'er thy vallies lour, 
 
 Pride lives not where Simplicity can please, 
 And all is Peace, with none to strive for power ! 
 
 My musings past, I glanced aside 
 
 Where stood in majesty my guide — 
 
 A spirit passed from worlds unknown, 
 
 To speak of hidden things to one. 
 
 Who, though an Atom in the Chain, 
 
 Had yet a Soul — nor heard in vain. 
 
 For the first time an icy chill 
 
 Ran idly through my veins, as still 
 
 I saw the stately vision nigh. 
 
 So phantom like, yet broad and high. 
 
 I gazed on the unearthly face 
 
 So shadowy dim, yet could I trace 
 
 In its expression calm — subdued, 
 
 A depth of mournful fortitude ; 
 
 'Twould seem as if the death-bed tone 
 
 A shadow o'er the form had thrown — 
 
 As if the dying glance was seen 
 
 Reflected in the look and mien ; 
 
 But ah ! the finger pointing hence,
 
 22 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Conveys my thoughts to time and sense. 
 
 I saw within a rosy bower — 
 
 Screened from the heat of noon's bright hour, 
 
 A mother with her first-born child ; 
 
 The boy was fair, — the mother mild, — 
 
 And over both a charm was thrown 
 
 Whose power the gazer's heart must own ; 
 
 But all description faint would seem 
 
 To realize so fair a theme ; 
 
 A Physche she, brimful of joy, 
 
 (And sure such mirth can ne'er destroy;) 
 
 A Cupid he, arch, — roguish, — sweet, — 
 
 With dimpled hands, — and fairy feet : 
 
 Above, around, beneath them there, 
 
 The skies were bright — life, earth was fair — 
 
 Yet not from thence the mother drew 
 
 The secret of the bliss she knew, 
 
 It was her light of life, above 
 
 All other joys an earthly love. 
 
 She called her boy, the sweet child ran 
 
 And clasped her neck with tiny span, 
 
 How playfully she threw aside 
 
 Each golden tress, her fond heart's pride. 
 
 Then nearer drew, kissed his white brow. 
 
 Ah! she is gazing mutely now 
 
 In his fuU-orb'd, yet childish eyes, 
 
 Which seal a world of mysteries —
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 23 
 
 Mysteries she may never scan 
 Until the child become the man. 
 Yet deem not she a storm-cloud sees, 
 Or hears woe whisper in the breeze ; 
 Ah ! no, her fond heart blindly weaves 
 A woof of rainbow coloured leaves, 
 And 'neath the gilded tissue's dome 
 She rears her Idol's future home. 
 Her love has such intensity 
 She recks not of idolatry; 
 The cherub nestling to her breast, 
 His cheek to hers so closely prest, 
 She asks for love, and love replies 
 With pouting lips and laughing eyes, 
 Alas ! that Mother all forgot — 
 Save love, and her undying lot; 
 To her how fair Life's brilliant page, 
 Theirs was a deathless heritage. 
 
 What shifting scenes doth life disclose ! 
 What varied tints enrich the rose ! 
 The rose is beautiful — and life 
 Hath many scenes with beauty rife. 
 I saw the solemn finger move 
 Past fairy homes of light and love ; 
 Sportive children, flower bands wreathing, 
 Happy lovers, heart-hopes breathing, 
 Old age without its helplessness,
 
 24 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 And youth in all its loveliness. 
 
 Here a foaming torrent fell 
 
 In sunny vale or mossy dell, 
 
 There a crystal fountain lay, 
 
 Eeflected in the eye of day. 
 
 And now it paused — where rose on high, 
 
 A stately Castle's hoary towers, 
 
 Frowning sublime in majesty 
 
 O'er reckless Time's destroying powers. 
 
 And there, within a spacious room 
 
 Tricked out with flowers, faint with perfume, 
 
 Upon a couch superb reclined — 
 
 A gentle Girl of placid mind, 
 
 Of that sweet stamp, which tutor'd right, 
 
 Would lend a Seraph to our sight, — 
 
 Alas ! that aught of earth should cling 
 
 Around so meek — yet bright a thing ! 
 
 But oh ! how much of Heaven's own roy 
 
 A spirit pure leaves on its way ; 
 
 As rich seen t on a garment poured' 
 
 Will long its fragrant sweets afford, 
 
 All in that wide apartment told 
 
 The owner lavish of his gold. 
 
 No Turkish loom could weave with care 
 
 An article more rich and rare 
 
 Than that whose rainbow tints around 
 
 Gaily festooned, enriched the ground — 
 
 Mirrors of various shape and size,
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Reflected Beauty's sparkling eyes — 
 
 And burnished lamps, with lustre bright 
 
 To gild the pageant of the night; 
 And costly cabinets inlaid 
 
 With precious stones of peerless worth, 
 "Were with the pomp of wealth displayed 
 
 To make the soul in love with earth. 
 ' Twas splendour all .' books, — music, flowers, 
 
 In gay profusion graced the scene, 
 And well I marked in these bright hours 
 
 The lovely — graceful Heroine, 
 
 Arising from her cushioned slumbers 
 
 A gentle glance around she throws. 
 Then, like a bending lily, numbers 
 
 The waxen foldings of a rose ; 
 And then, with impulse new, she hastened 
 
 To grasp her lute with snowy finger. 
 And much of love — deep, pure and chastened, 
 
 In melody escaped the singer. 
 I gazed on her Seraphic face. 
 
 Till for a GuiDo's Ait divine 
 I sighed, that I might sweetly trace. 
 
 And make it ever — ever mine 
 
 And I forgot "twas but a dream, 
 
 A vision Aiding from the view, — 
 Yet what is Life? a transient gleam, 
 
 A drearn a« fleet— as fading too !
 
 26 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 And iTow that gilded room contained 
 
 A nuble, high-born glitt'ring throng, 
 Gliding where mirth and music reigned, 
 
 Like painted butterflies along — 
 Light as the airy thistle-down 
 
 AVhose fairy wheel the Zephyrs greet. 
 And gaily waft from leaf to flower, 
 
 In idle, aimless bliss, complete: 
 And such their life who tread the path. 
 
 Which pleasure opens to the view; 
 No higher aims their being hath, 
 
 To cheer when false joys bid adieu. 
 But she, the bright star of the night, — 
 
 Whose beauty seemed to greet mine eye, 
 Like a smooth landscape soft and light. 
 
 When passed some gaudy garden by, 
 
 I saw within a dim recess — 
 From the gay flutt'ring crowd apart — 
 
 Love heightened her meek loveliness 
 With rays reflected from the heart ; 
 
 For He, the hope of her young soul, 
 The Star to which it ever turned, 
 
 The light, the source, the bliss, the goal. 
 Of all the thoughts that in her burned — 
 
 Was pouring in her gentle ear 
 His own impassioned, tender tale, 
 
 Her dark eye glistened with a tear — 
 Her lily cheek grew yet more pale,
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 27 
 
 As like the gushing melody 
 With which the song-bird woos his mate, 
 
 His honied accents soft and free, 
 Cemented well the chains of Fate. 
 
 Oh ! rapture hath a brimming urn, 
 Like grief the meek heart to o'erflow, 
 
 Silent and deep true passions burn, 
 As smothered fires the fiercer glow : 
 
 And there are moments that are worth 
 Ages .of ordinary life. 
 
 When germs long dormant blossom forth 
 At once with being — beauty — rife. 
 
 Oh, Love ! maturer of the mind. 
 Well didst thou play thy subtle part, 
 
 Bravely thy potent arts combined 
 To fling a spell o'er that pure heart ; 
 
 And she was happy, — life with her 
 Was but a path with rose leaves strewed, — 
 
 No craving want, no aching void. 
 No clinging faith to be subdued. 
 
 The stately Castle's fragrant flower, 
 Heiress of all her proud sire's gold. 
 
 Basking 'neath fond Affection's power, 
 Whose rainbow banner brightly told 
 
 Of Happiness, deep, perfect, pure — 
 And ah I on Earth, Immortal too; 
 
 Like Heav'n, whose joys for aye endure, 
 Death's shadow, dimmed not Life's long view. 
 
 c
 
 28 TlIK ISLE Of THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 " Tis well," I crifd, 'neath smiling skies, 
 Mirrored in Lakes as lovely too, 
 
 All — all of earthly good we prize 
 Within our grasp, what should we do 
 
 But revel in the beam that flings 
 Its light'ning gleam upon our way, 
 
 Heedless of those etherial wings 
 With which the soaring spirit may, 
 
 Casting aside the dust that clings 
 To earth's dull garb, reach endless day? 
 
 In a deep grove my silent guide 
 Next halted ; and I saw beside 
 A gurgling stream, a valley bright — 
 And when on our first Parent's sight 
 Bright Eden in its beauty burst, 
 Methinks no warmer glow he nurst, 
 Than the deep solemn joy which fell 
 On my wrapt soul in that sweet dell. 
 Oh ! Nature's loveliness inspires 
 The unwarped mind with high desires ; 
 A flower, a leaf can plume the wing, 
 Bid thought awake, the Poet sing, 
 And never shall his Lyre be still, 
 While her loud myriad voices thrill. 
 And life in this sequestered vale — 
 Love-lit, methought would tell a tale:
 
 THE ISLE OK THE DEATHLESS. 20 
 
 The gushing strea«is sung to the day, 
 And wild-birds echoed back the lay, 
 And brightly did the sunbeams rest 
 On this green Valley's quiet breast; 
 The very atmosphere was fraught 
 With the mind's food— a spell for thought. 
 Softly the light breeze travelled on, 
 Nor stopped to rest a leaf upon, 
 A hush — a calm — a power was there , 
 Too. deep for song, — but not for prayer ; 
 And gazing round I sought to trace 
 Some Anchorite's abiding place, — 
 But ah ! no rock-hew'd cave I found 
 Where stern austerities abound, 
 And tortures self-inflicted, fling 
 A shade o'er Mercy's shelt'ring wing. 
 An humble homestead, clad in green, 
 Enriched this bright enchanting scene, 
 But sheltered from the prying gaze 
 Of idle Curiosity, 
 Even as Merit shrinks from praise 
 Which bears the dross of -flattery, — 
 So stood this little flower wreathed cot. 
 In so remote, yet sweet a spot ; 
 So interlaced around — above — 
 With pensile foliage of the grove, 
 You might have deemed it the abode 
 Of airy sylph, — or sylvan god. 
 
 c2
 
 30 THE ISLE OF TUE DEATHLESS. 
 
 One glance within, s-ufi&ced to tell 
 
 " Here Love and Genius sweetly dwell." 
 
 There in the centre of a room 
 
 In all the pride of manhood's bloom, 
 
 Before an easel sate a form 
 
 Which well had braved a mountain storm. 
 
 Erect and proud, —with eagle glance 
 
 Which spoke the brightness of the trance 
 
 Moving within his earnest heart, 
 
 A theme for his creative art ; 
 
 And long he brooded o'er the thought, 
 
 Till with maturity 'twas fraught. 
 
 Then seized the brush, the canvas placed, 
 
 And soon with life and beauty graced ; 
 
 Fresh, glowing 'neath the Artist's hand. 
 
 As touched by a Magician's wand — 
 
 The dull unmeaning cloth became 
 
 A thing t' illustrate deeds of fame ; 
 
 Mind-gemmed, thougfit-traced, 'twas to the eye 
 
 A dream of works which may not die, 
 
 By Raphael's master-pencil wrought. 
 
 Or a bright inspiration caught 
 
 From Angelo, — in the deep mood 
 
 Which he best loved, thoughtful — subdued. 
 
 Beside him, as the task he loved 
 
 ' Neath his progressive touch improved, 
 
 Was one whose fond devotedness, 
 
 Bright spirit, perfect loveliness,
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 31 
 
 Endeared the Eden where he dwelt, 
 
 And made its radiant beauty felt, — 
 
 The gentle partner of his life, 
 
 A very Eve, — a pattern wife; 
 
 And never Heathen to the shrine 
 
 Whose oracles he deems divine, 
 
 Or Turkish pilgrim, bends the knee 
 
 With more entire idolatry, 
 
 When the loud ery— "To Prayer! " "To Prayer ! ' 
 
 Sounds faintly through the desert air. — 
 The smile which on his proud lip curled, 
 
 Reflocted on her cheek became. 
 He filled her heart, that heart her world j 
 
 She owned for him no meaner flame 
 Than that a Eoyal Consort proved, 
 
 Who to preserve the life she loved, 
 
 With her own pure lips— fond and true, 
 
 The venom from the deep wound drew, 
 
 Heedless if from those veins 'ifWere thrown 
 
 To burn and rankle in her own. 
 Oh ! but a small and tranquil stream 
 
 Is Woman's love 'neath sunbright skies,. 
 But if a cloud o'eishade the beam, 
 
 A thousand springs that stream supplies ;. 
 The dove's mild nature only seen 
 
 When soft a«d calm the Zephyrs blow, 
 But hers the Falcon's heart and mien, 
 
 Wlien they to ram])ant whirlwinds grow ;
 
 32 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 And such the spirit of her mind 
 
 Who fanned the high Promethean fire, 
 Whose chains awhile could Genius hind, 
 
 And tame each volatile desire. 
 I saw beside this Paradise, 
 
 Where Love and Genius made their home, 
 A hroad oak tow'ring to the skies, 
 
 As if to reach the far blue dome ; 
 And round its giant frame entwined 
 
 The tendrils of the graceful vine, 
 Love aiding Genius' soaring mind 
 
 To rend the veil from Truth divine : 
 "And ah ! " I said, " This Isle of Light— 
 
 With fruits and flowers of Eden hlest, 
 Cannot restrain fond Genius' flight — 
 
 E'en here it pants for nobler rest." 
 
 Here life a brighter flag unfurled 
 Than in our dim and work-day world, 
 No carking cares the mind opprest. 
 Possession lulled it into rest ; 
 Possessed of all the heart could crave. 
 Nor fearing e'en the gaping grave. 
 Sure happiness must thrive and shoot. 
 No worm — no mildew at the root, 
 No blighting sun to scorch the fruit. 
 Absorbed in silent reverie —
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 33 
 
 On much still wrapt in mystery, 
 I yet could feel, as with my guide 
 The solemn Azrael at my side, 
 And borne by supernatural power 
 By castle, cot, and leafy bower, 
 How much of light the soul may win 
 By gazing on another's sin; 
 And much of tender pity woke 
 For those who bent beneath its yoke; 
 
 I envied not their bright career. 
 
 I sighed not for their length of days, 
 
 No ! still be mine the mourner's tear — 
 The life of Penitence and Praise. 
 
 I saw the purple shadows play 
 
 Upon the mountains wild and high. 
 
 And glancing in the sun's bright ray 
 The gorgeous insects flitting by : 
 
 I saw the blossoms, buds, and flowers 
 Of ev'ry shape and ev'ry hue, 
 
 The twinkling leaves, the starry bowers, 
 The earth so green, the sky so blue, 
 
 Primeval beauty seemed to fling 
 A living light o'er ev'rything, 
 
 And bright Perfection stampt the whole 
 Leaving nought rayless — save the soul. 
 
 And long might thought have rested here. 
 Mid scenes which breathe alone of Heaven, 
 
 But ah! the inner world's career
 
 34 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 So bound to earth — so filled with leaven, 
 Recalled it from a theme so fair ; 
 
 And gazing on my guide's sad face, 
 I saw a deeper shadow there, 
 
 It was not wrath, hut sorrow's trace, 
 And holy are the drops that well 
 
 From the heart's fountain pure and lone, 
 When others' errors seal the spell 
 
 It mourns o'er sorrows not its own ; 
 Such grief in angels too must be, 
 
 Their fame, through all eternity. 
 
 • *«*•• 
 
 I saw within a chamber low, 
 
 By one small taper dimly lighted, 
 An aged form, whose withered brow. 
 
 In vain bespoke his hopes benighted ; 
 His face was long, hie cheeks were hollow, 
 
 And hoar hairs told time had not spared him, 
 But well content in dust to wallow. 
 
 Its footprints deep had failed to scare him ; 
 For lank and long, and lean and bony. 
 
 His limbs were helpless, shrunk, and wasted, 
 But Hybla still poured forth its honey, 
 
 And still the hungry dotard feasted. 
 A trusty staff his chief supporter, 
 
 All other aid he coldly spurned , 
 Though one fair Girl, his only daughter. 
 
 To lie within his bosom yearned.
 
 THE ISLE OF Till: DEATHLESS 36 
 
 Poor child ! in vain she watched and waited 
 
 On him throughout the live long day. 
 Love, holy love, — the true, the fated, 
 
 Held in her soul a deathless sway, — 
 But he, the blind, the narrow-hearted, 
 
 The spirit-dulled, the cramped, the cold, 
 From Life's sweet influences started. 
 
 Enough for him to hug his gold. 
 'Twas midnight, — and the glitt'ring treasure 
 
 Before his eager eyes was spread, 
 A shining heap, oh ! beyond measure 
 
 Was this vain idol worshipped. 
 Before this god his icy heart 
 
 Melted like dewdrops in the sun — 
 'Twas Life's Elixir! its best part. 
 
 The good of all goods nobly won. 
 The coin he counted o'er and o'er, 
 
 Then chuckling with delight surveyed 
 The gUded pile, then sighed for more, 
 
 His withered palm wide open laid, 
 To clutch the bright forthcoming store 
 
 By Fancy's mockeries betrayed. 
 'Twas strange to see that hoar old man. 
 
 Revelling in Utopian dreams, 
 ?o hear how his soul's musings ran 
 
 Alone on golden, gainful themes ; 
 Twas sad to see that hard old man 
 Repulse his child with withering glance
 
 36 THE ISLE 01^ THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Yet mark him in the dark hour scan 
 With kindling eye, in blissful trance, 
 
 The lucre vile Alas ! for him 
 
 All other joys waxed cold and dim, 
 This, this alone, the lamp, the ray 
 "Which lit his dark and lengthened day. 
 
 A low, shrill laugh assailed my ear, 
 A thrilling and unearthly sound, — 
 
 Those glitt'ring eycs,-^ah! was it fear? 
 I shuddered as I gazed around ; 
 For, in the dim and murky gloom, 
 Which shrouded half that darkened room, 
 Methought grim ministers of ill 
 Were waiting on their victim's will : 
 
 But why that laugh which fearfully 
 Broke on the solemn ear of night ? 
 
 Fierce with exultant extacy, — 
 
 Why beamed those wierd-like eyes so bright ? 
 
 Oh ! mem'ry warmed the old man's heart, 
 His hoarded treasure ne'er would flee, 
 
 Death could not bid his joys depart, 
 So woven with Futurity. 
 Adown Time's vista he could gaze, 
 Kadiant with bright perspective rays ; 
 Death, with its vale of shadows dim. 
 Was but a thought of scorn to him : — 
 Upwards, he never cast his eye, 
 Nor down, for he thought ne'er to die ;
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 37 
 
 'Twas mockery, — let the weary rest, 
 His happy soul supremely hlest, 
 Had gained the sole Elysian sphere 
 That to his fettered view was dear. 
 He saw the sunbeam gild the flower, 
 Bright shadows on the green liills lie. 
 He heard birds carol from their bower. 
 And sweet streams gush in music by — 
 In vain ; upon the path he^rod, 
 Light from the Paradise of God — 
 Had fall'n unheeded ; gold, bright gold ; 
 Clasped in many a shining fold 
 Each slavish sense, — and hour by hour, 
 The dull torpedo touch had power 
 Even from youth, to rivet fast 
 The chains then forged for aye to last. 
 
 ' Twas past ; — and on aerial wing 
 With sable garments fluttering 
 In the night breeze, I saw him rise. 
 My angel-guide, unto the skies ; 
 I watched him soar with wing of might, 
 Till a dense cloud concealed from sight, 
 The form, which clad in softened guise, 
 I erst had hailed with glad surprise, — 
 Nor shrunk, though my heart ice became 
 When tuld his world-wide hated name, —
 
 38 THE TSLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 The " King of Terrors ! '" "Tyrant!" "Foe!" 
 
 Whose will but worketh mortals woe, 
 
 Oh ! not so stern a monarch he 
 
 In these my wand'rings seemed to me ; 
 
 His faint adieu, my ears retain, 
 
 The words — " We yet shall meet again," 
 
 Like tones of love from spheres remote, 
 
 My lingering heart with sadness smote, 
 
 With power its firmest chords to rend, 
 
 Like the fond "Farewell" of a friend. 
 
 And happy they, who gaze on Death's sad face. 
 Until they long the Phantom to embrace ; 
 To whom his Message comes, deroid of gloom. 
 Hailed as a Passport to a brighter doom ! 
 
 END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
 
 THE 
 
 ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS: 
 
 CANTO II.
 
 THE 
 
 ISLE or THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 "Tell me, ye woods, ye smiling plains. 
 
 Ye blessed birds around. 
 Where, in Creation's wide domains. 
 
 Can perfect bliss be found > 
 
 The birds wild carol'd over head. 
 The breeze around me blew. 
 
 And Nature's awful chorus said — 
 No bliss for man she knew ! 
 
 I questioned Virtue, — Virtue sighed, 
 No boon could she dispense; 
 
 Nor Virtue was her name, she cried — 
 But humble Penitence I 
 
 I asked if Vice could bliss bestow > 
 
 Vice boasted loud and well : 
 But, fading from her pallid brow 
 
 The venom'd roses fell." 
 
 Bishop Heber, 
 
 I stood again on that fairy shore, 
 But methought full twenty years or more 
 The golden sands of Time had run, 
 Since there I gazed on the heaming sun ; 
 My panting heart with strange delight 
 Returned again to scenes so bright, — 
 
 D
 
 42 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Impatient the effects to trace 
 
 Of Time upon this favoured race ; 
 
 Had he, old Time, no trophies won, 
 
 'I'o wreathe around his hoary brow, 
 
 When all heside, beneath the sun 
 
 ^ Neath his decaying touch must bow? 
 
 Had he no footmarks planted here, 
 Scathed no warm hearts in his career. 
 
 Or still unwitliered, frem and free, — 
 Did they joy in Perpetuity ? 
 Did earthly vanities still hold 
 
 Within — an undivided sway, — 
 Did Mammon with his chains of gold, 
 Ftill hold the monster Death at bay '? 
 And Luve, — the purest, sweetest gem 
 From Heaven's overflowing treasury won. 
 Oh ! was it Earth's best diadem, 
 Or did it wound in passing on V 
 An eager glance around I threw. 
 Tor ev'rj- rood of ground I knew ; 
 Still Nature wore a changeless face, 
 Defck'd with the light of Summer's grace. 
 As fair a skj", — as bright a beam — 
 Was there to gild as cool a stream. 
 Still em'rald verdure clothed the hills, 
 Whii'h sheltered still the tinkling rills ; 
 Bird, flower, and grot with beauty — mirth- 
 Enibellish'd i'till this Heav'n on eartli,
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS 43 
 
 And al] the same gay aspect wore 
 
 As Fancy pictured it of yore. 
 But soon my heart too human, grew 
 
 Wearied e'en in these pathways bright,— 
 We must our Nature fall'n renew 
 
 Ere we can joy in Eden"s light: 
 Alas ! I sighed for Winter's gloom, 
 
 Anything hut this endless bloom, 
 Yet praise was on my lips,— I thought 
 
 Upon the land from whence I came. 
 Where Nature's laws with wisdom fraught. 
 
 Dare e'en the Rebel's heart to blame ; 
 .Methinks the Beautiful to be 
 
 Perfect, must find its like within, — 
 Where souls from human passions free, 
 
 A Life celestial besrin. 
 
 ^D- 
 
 And now I sought the dewy bower 
 Where I beheld the bud and flower ; 
 The bower remained, — the bud was flown,- 
 The flower was left to weep alone. 
 Weep, did I say ? Yea, even so. 
 The bitt'rest source of human woe 
 Well'd in that fond yet blinded heart : 
 The serpent in our path may start 
 Aside, and we unwounded live, 
 But a child's ingratitude can rive
 
 44 THE ISLE or THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 A parent's heart with keener pangs 
 Than the fell tiger's ruthless fangs 
 Could e'er inflict, — and such was hers 
 Hear, oh ye idol worshippers I 
 All day along the flow'ry way 
 She taught his childish feet to stray, 
 One false step call'd forth all her care, 
 And filled her quick soul with despair ; 
 All night upon her bosom laid, 
 She woke to watch, caress, and aid, 
 His feehlest cry would cause distress. 
 His faintest smile had power to bles«. 
 
 And bliss indeed was hers awhile, 
 Alas ! not long it lives on earth, 
 
 Love thrives not in so harsh a soil, 
 How fair and pure soo'er its birth ; 
 
 No sooner does the germ begin 
 To root and settle in the heart, 
 
 Than evil influences win 
 Their way,~and rend the fond apart. 
 
 Oh ! fair and pure as the shell-bound pearl, 
 In the depths of ocean gliding,— 
 
 Precious and bright as the sparkling ore 
 In the mountain's bosom hiding, — 
 Is a mother's dear and holy love, 
 Winning its light from the woild above, 
 
 But alas ! the meekest passion 
 If fed and fosteicd to excess—
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 45 
 
 Like the rock \vlv"ch vessels dash on, 
 
 But causes ruin and distress. 
 
 The petted boy to manhood grew, 
 
 Tall and fair to human view, 
 
 But like the dainty garden flower 
 
 That scarce can bear a summer shower, 
 
 And 'neath the hurtlmg storm-cloud lies 
 
 Prostrated, — never more to rise, — 
 
 The minor ills of Life to him 
 
 Seemed Sorrow's cup fill'd to the brim ; 
 
 Fretful, and pining o'er his fate, — 
 
 Sad, moody, and disconsolate 
 
 He wandered forth ^ — like Cain he fled — 
 
 By wild impetuous impulse led, 
 
 A home whose beauty-beam ''ng rays 
 
 Might well obtain an Angel's praise; 
 
 A mother's anx'ous — earnest care 
 
 For ruthful ru'n, — dark despai'-. 
 
 But let us to that mother turn, 
 
 jbid mark the thoughts that in her burn.— 
 
 A wreck, a ruin was she now, 
 The Shadow of the Substance fled 1 
 
 Yea, Time and Grief upon her lirow 
 Their dark decaying blight had spread. 
 
 Like a sered leaf, — lowly lying, 
 Struck by the wild autumn blast, — 
 
 A fragment of a wreck, —defying 
 The threat'ning waves, and skies o'eriat-t '. 
 
 D 3
 
 46 THE ISLF. OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 She lived — a wretched care-worn thing, 
 
 One hope alone had power to fling 
 
 A ray of light athwart the glooin, 
 
 Darker, — far darkei than the tomb, — 
 
 He might return ; — but day by day 
 
 This hope had dwindled quite away ; 
 
 And month by month, and year by year, 
 
 In her dim eye was seen the tear, 
 
 Till like fair Niobe of old, 
 
 A living statute, death-like, cold, 
 
 Did she become : and then she heard — 
 
 (Cold lips are prompt to speak the word 
 
 We would not hear,) — how he had sought 
 
 After long years, crime-stained, guilt-fraught, 
 
 The Boat of Death, * to waft him o'er, 
 
 When crime and guilt exult no more. 
 
 And then, oh ! what was Life to her ? 
 
 Though lengthened till the day of doom, 
 
 Could an undying lot restore 
 
 The past's bright joys to heart and home? 
 
 Oh ! had Fate shed ONE bright'ning beam 
 To gild anew Hope's sunset ray, 
 
 Nor left her lone, to ford the stream 
 Of desolation, — and decay, — 
 
 She might have borne her load of life, 
 Conscious that on Seraphic wing 
 
 Her soul had pass'd the floods of strife, 
 When Time and Worlds were vanishing :
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 47 
 
 But 'twas not so, and Lone indeed, 
 And dark, and dim, and dead, the soul 
 
 That cannot in its hour of need 
 See beck'ning from the far off goal 
 
 Some little star, whose orbit bright 
 Traced by fond Fancy's fairy wand, 
 
 A beacon seems to brighter light 
 Hid in the countless worlds beyond. 
 
 I felt my soul within me sink 
 As thus I read the human heart. 
 
 And bitterly I sighed to think 
 How with it Time had played his part. 
 I shrunk from Nature's smiling face, 
 For ah ! the beauty, life, and grace 
 Which met my view on ev'ry side 
 The sad heart's change seemed to deride ; 
 And on I went, — I could not bear 
 That mourner's look of fixed despair ; 
 
 And soon my wand'ring spirit neared 
 A moated mansion, dark and hoar. 
 
 Whose castellated towers appeared 
 Pride's haughty emblem as of yore . — 
 
 Here, too, the forest leaves were green, 
 Were they a type of that sweet flower 
 
 Whose early high career had been 
 So simply meek in lordly bower ? 
 
 Or was the human heart alone, 
 The butt fur Time's usurping rod.
 
 48 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Was he, since Death no power could own 
 Th' avenging Minister of God? 
 
 In that saloon, superbly gay, 
 Where first those silv'ry tones I heard, 
 
 I looked, and ah ! hut yesterday 
 It seemed, since on each gentle word 
 IMy soul absorbed in gladness hung. 
 And admiration chained my tongue ; 
 She was not there, — but nothing changed, 
 The very furniture arranged 
 With studied ease, yet courting show. 
 Was as it had been long ago. 
 
 Did Fancy mock my listening ear, 
 Or did some melody pass by ? 
 
 The Zephyr's breath, low, sad, and clear, 
 Or gentle Pity's plaintive sigh ? 
 
 As such it seemed to greet me then, 
 A sad presentiment of woe ; 
 
 To trouble born, the sons of men 
 On earth no real bliss can know. 
 
 And what a mockery is pride — 
 With all its pomp, parade, and show, — 
 
 How oft its tinsel trappings hide 
 A wretched heart, — a home of woe ! 
 
 How vain the fair, false glitter seems 
 To the pale Pilgrim on his way 
 
 Through this dim, dying World of dreams, 
 To bright, substantial, endless day !
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 49 
 
 How idle to the mourner who 
 Hath drained Woe's brimming chalice deep — 
 
 But tend'ring 'neath the darkling yew 
 His soul to God, forgets to weep I 
 
 Within an oratory small — 
 
 Before a crucifix, low kneeling, 
 Nor decked out for a festival, 
 
 But all her inmost heart appealing 
 To Him, whose ray cheers Sorrow's hour, 
 Gilds the bright sun, and tints the flower, 
 Was she I sought ; — and from her prayer 
 I gleaned that hours of dark despair — 
 That shame, and bitterness, and strife 
 Had mingled in her draught of life ; 
 That founts which once could honey yield, 
 But gall and wormwood had revealed ; 
 That streams bright, limpid, fair of old, 
 Had grown to petrifactions cold; 
 That stars which promised ne'er to set, 
 Had long been hid 'neath clouds of jet ; 
 That from bright blossoms light had fled, 
 Hueless, scentless, rayless, dead. 
 They grew in Sorrow's tear-dimm'd hour ; 
 Ah ! 'tis the heart and not the flower 
 That changes 'neath the cold World's power, 
 That colours all where it may rest,
 
 50 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Making it dim, or bright and blest. 
 Yet well that pure and noble heart 
 Had played the Christian maiden's part, 
 In meek forbearance, suff 'ring long 
 Injustice, scorn, oppression, wrong, — 
 Her only weapons — kindness, love. 
 And Charity's sweet gentle deeds, — 
 
 Prayer, borne on wings of Faith above 
 To Him, who for Earth's meek ones j^leads, 
 And early round the Father's throne 
 Gathers the gems He calls His own. 
 Yea, in Earth's deepest crucible, 
 Her true and loving heart was tried. 
 
 Oh wildly broke the Avalanche 
 Which crushed the sweet flower in its pride ; 
 
 But ev'ry grief relaxed the chain 
 That bound her Heav'n-born spirit here,— 
 
 Which panted with deep yearning pain 
 To rove at will a wider sphere : 
 So much of Heaven was in her eye 
 INIethought its glance had pierced the sky, 
 And back to earth conveyed the light 
 That flashes from a Seraph's bright ; 
 
 So much of peace was on her brow, 
 You must have deemed her fully blest, 
 
 Oh ! holy as a Vestal's vow — 
 The dove-like quiet of her breast. 
 
 Earth, with its power, its passions seemed
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Like a wilcl, fearful vision past, — 
 
 A beacon from the far mount gleamed, 
 
 And she had gained its height at last. 
 
 " But one flight more," she softly sighed,— 
 " And I shall see the clouds divide 
 Beyond this wasting, crumbling sphere, 
 Lo ! Heav'n's celestial gates appear 
 
 To the poor Pilgrim, whose worn feet 
 Have cast Earth's clinging dust away, 
 
 And silent from her lone retreat 
 
 Hears the wild dash of wave and spray, 
 
 Heedless how Time's rude surges beat 
 Since storm, nor tempest, nor decay 
 
 Can sweep her soul's firm trust away- 
 No more deceived by visions sweet, — 
 
 By idols formed of dust and clay, 
 
 Ev"n the bright mirage cannot cheat, 
 
 Nor glitt'ring moonlight picture day, 
 To whom on earth all shadowy seems 
 
 A shore of wrecks, — a land of dreams ! 
 
 Unreal, airy, vain and fleet, — 
 
 Life's dearest bliss is incomplete. 
 
 Affection ! Heav'n's immortal child, 
 
 To bless wayfarers on the wild, 
 
 In mercy sent, just waves her wings 
 
 To wake the heart's imaginings, — 
 
 Just breathes of melody a sound 
 
 To malto of earthly, — holy ground :
 
 52 THE ISLE OK THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Then back within the veil she flies 
 Beyond the Everlasting skies ; 
 In vain the pining spirit mourns, 
 No more th" Angelic lure returns, 
 But from the realms of light and love 
 She beckons the lorn soul above. 
 Father of Light ! T come ! I come ! 
 Oh take thy wayworn wanderer home." 
 Then silence reigned, — so still, so calm, 
 ' Twas bliss ; — the very air with balm 
 Was laden, — such the power, the spell 
 Mind purified, into the well 
 Of harder hearts, passing can fling ; 
 With it a Presence seems to dwell. 
 Which bids all worldly thoughts take wing, 
 And back the travelled softly come, 
 Breathing the atmosphere of Home. 
 
 A golden sunbeam, warm and bright, 
 Shed through the richly tinted pane, 
 
 A holy, meek, and chastened light. 
 Into this consecrated fane; 
 
 It rested on her snowy brow, 
 Revealed the pure transparent tear. 
 
 Which sealed the meek heart's fervid vow, 
 A vow which none but God might hear. 
 
 Visions of martyred saints arose.
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 53 
 
 Of holy women, who had trod — 
 
 In sufferance meek, through rampant foes, 
 The thorny path which leads to God. 
 
 A guiltless Magdalen was she, 
 Bright in unsullied purity. 
 
 Bent with the weight of earthly ill, 
 
 Yet joyous "neath her burden still : 
 A calm, deep, chastened, heartfelt joy. 
 
 The moonlight of the soul, whose beam 
 No passing snowdrift may destroy. 
 
 Nor cat'ract 'whelm in Lethe's stream. 
 I could have lingered on for aye, 
 
 Beneath an influence so sweet, — 
 But, ah ! how vain, away ! away ! 
 
 While yet I pondered, softly fleet — 
 The Vision faded 
 
 And I stood 
 
 Bewildered at the sudden change. 
 In the far depths of the wild wood, — 
 
 Left as 'twould seem at will to range. 
 The fair blue hyacinth aside, 
 
 Once plucked by me with fondest pride, 
 I brushed ; and on the violet 
 
 Its petals with bright dewdrops wet, 
 A cold and hurried glance I flung; 
 
 I might not idly loiter yet. 
 My woodland favourites among ; 
 
 Another, higher task was mine — 
 
 E
 
 54 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Though it were sweet, and very dear, 
 'Neath graceful birch, or lordly pine, 
 A glitt'ring fairy wreath to twine, 
 
 Of sweet wild buds and blossoms near. 
 And now the Artist's leafy cot 
 I sought, — alas ! I found it not ; 
 But on its well remembered site 
 A stately mansion met my sight, — 
 
 Pride whispered "Genius," and it grew 
 Too high in lowly home to dwell, — 
 
 Forgetting in a zeal so new 
 The noblest minds to nature true, 
 
 Can dignify the meanest cell ; 
 And happy there, serenely draw 
 
 Bliss from Content's bright limpid well, 
 The proud, the cold, may never tell. 
 
 With sad, unmixed regret I saw 
 The change a vain ambition wrought ; 
 
 But Peace fled with Simplicity, 
 And splendour had been dearly bought : 
 
 ' Tis ever thus — we seek to gain 
 Some fleeting good, to make us blest, 
 
 Nor reck how much of dust and stain, 
 We in the world's rude press obtain, 
 
 To be of this our prize possest ; 
 ' Tis ours, — and lo ! the charm is fled, — 
 
 Its rainbow hues all vanished. 
 E'en as the sunset clouds of even,
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 AVhich brightly gild the far-off Hoaven, 
 Dissolve, and lose their robes of light, 
 Chased by the murky wing of night, — 
 Had fled the Artist's dreams of bliss, 
 Touched by the Proteus' wand of Time, 
 Wealth, splendour, fame, — all these were his,. 
 Yet on his glitt'ring path I wis. 
 The "trail of the serpent" none could mi.-s; 
 His joys were crushed in their fairest prime. 
 And- died, like flowers in my native clime. 
 
 He saw the shining bubbles burst. 
 The worm on his bright gourd preying, — 
 
 Hopes sweet and dear, long fed and nurst, 
 Lie within his grasp, decaying; 
 And the aching void in his bosom grew 
 Stronger in power, and deeper in hue : 
 No green spot on earth his soul could find. 
 Its quenchless yearnings to tame and bind ; 
 
 Restless, aspiring, thirsting still. 
 Like a bird in the desert o'erta'en, 
 
 Which pines for a pure, rock-gushing rill. 
 To still his heart-pantings in vain. 
 
 Alas ! alas ! for the gifted mind, 
 With its glimpses of rainbow light. 
 
 Oh I how should the world's harsh fetters bind' 
 With so much of Heaven in sight ? 
 
 Within a splendid Studio deck'd 
 
 Bl
 
 56 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 With noble works of art, 
 I found him, with a spirit wreck'd, 
 
 Yet earnest still of heart, 
 Before the beatific scene 
 
 His pencil had pourtrayed' — 
 Where the departing Saviour shone 
 
 In glory bright arrayed ; 
 A cloud concealed Him from th« gaze 
 
 Of the Apostles there ; 
 And clouds and mists still shroud His rays,- 
 
 The Infinitely fair. 
 Oh ! much and long the gazer mused 
 
 With eager heart and eye, 
 As gaze the home-siek o'er the wave 
 
 Where far, fond wishes fly. 
 And whither can the ardent soul 
 
 Which Love and Genius fires, 
 From Earth's frail broken cisterns turn 
 
 With its unquenched desires ? 
 The terrene world is beautiful, 
 
 But mind surcharged will flee, 
 Eager to view the gorgeous lamp 
 
 Which lights Eternity ! 
 Nor can the mammon-loving crowd, — 
 
 The pleasure-seeking throng. 
 With capabilities endowed 
 
 To wrestle with the strong ; 
 To jostle in the tumult wild,
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 57 
 
 To trample on the meek, — 
 And leave the tear of Griefs lone child 
 
 Undried upon the cheek; — 
 Who Life's responsibilities 
 
 Hold lightly or despise, 
 And coldly view the shattered links 
 
 Which held its sweetest ties : — 
 Such world-encrusted hearts ne'er know 
 
 What finer spirits feel. 
 Or how Heaven's boundless rivers flow 
 
 To quicken human zeal : 
 How the adoring, earnest heart 
 
 With high conceptions full, 
 Waits anxious for the Cloud to part 
 
 Which veils the Beautiful. 
 How even here the ransomed soul 
 
 Is bathed in glory's light, 
 While panting to attain the Goal 
 
 Where dwells the Infinite ! 
 A veil of mystery was thrown 
 
 Over the Painter's woes. 
 Nor might expressive look or tone 
 
 Their nature aught disclose : 
 And vainly did I seek again 
 That graceful form to see. 
 Which well enriched his humble cot, 
 With fond fidelity. 
 
 Alas ! the lieart hath munh of blight, — 
 
 E 3
 
 5ft THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 The lips may never breatlie ; 
 
 The rose looks fair to human sight, 
 
 While canker lurks beneath ; 
 Enough,— he suffere(i,_this to know 
 
 Sufficeth ev'ry feeling heart. 
 The gale of Pity fans the brow, 
 
 Nor waits to probe the inward smart. 
 
 And now no sound the silence broke, 
 
 Thought — thought was busy in my brain,. 
 But breaking from its mystic yoke, 
 
 A change came o'er my dream again. 
 Again I saw that chamber small, 
 
 Within whose narrow bounds of yore, 
 One abject Spirit made its home, 
 
 Whose earth-bound wing could never' soar. 
 With feelings reverent we see 
 A hoary pile, — an aged tree, — 
 Prized in a world marked by decay, 
 As relics of an olden day ; 
 As landmarks " twixt the Past's seal'd doom. 
 And the dim Future yet to come, 
 Stamp'd with the dross of fleeting fame 
 Yet bright with the Creator's name; 
 And honoured be the hoary head, 
 When the Light on our pathway shed 
 Hath pierced the fleshly veil of sin, 
 And fed the immortal spark withiu.
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 59 
 
 When like a ship at anchor lying, 
 The howling blast and storm defying, 
 The time-worn Pilgrim hails the foe, 
 Whose dart shall lay his victim low. 
 But likeness to the meaner race 
 In man, Creation's lord, we trace. 
 When deadened is each finer sense. 
 By the cold World's Omnipotence : 
 When furrowed brow, and fading eye. 
 And mind of wasted energy 
 Still lick the dust, and bend the knee 
 To darkness, and idolatry. 
 Here, as I scanned Creation's plan, 
 I saw how vile a thing is man ; — 
 Akin to Angels — spirit free. 
 His heritage — Eternity ; 
 Gifted with powers to span the sky, 
 Yet lifting not a glance on high ; 
 Content to grovel on the earth. 
 With soulless things of meanest birth. 
 And quench of endless bliss the germ. 
 To boast his kindred with the worm ! 
 Alas ! ev'n such an one was be 
 Whom yet again my destiny 
 Bade me behold, — and fain would I 
 On such a scene have closed mine eye, 
 But this might not be, 'twas my lot, — 
 Nor are such dreamings soon forgot. 
 
 s^
 
 60 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Alone,^and oh ! how much of grief 
 
 This one word can pourtray, 
 Alone, — with none to bring relief 
 
 This wretched being lay ; 
 Alone ! — how utterly alone ! 
 
 His own wild words could tell^ 
 As in a deep, sepulchral tone, 
 
 from livid lips they fell ; 
 In murmurs from a sinful heart, 
 
 Thankless for blessings given, 
 Content to act the traitor's part, 
 
 'Gainst the Majesty of Heav'n ! 
 But why within that narrow room, 
 
 So closely pent and dim, 
 Where not the faintest sunbeam can, 
 
 Cast a glad ray on him ? 
 The landscape's gentle, busy scene, 
 
 So full of spirit life. 
 Might well beguile a fev'rish dream — 
 
 Quench the soul's burning strife. 
 Alas ! the purer joys of earth 
 
 Move not the darkened mind, 
 And now no flower for him hath birth, 
 
 That hard Old Man is— Blind ! 
 But wherefore on that mattress low. 
 
 That wretched, loathsome bed. 
 Where not a breath of Heav'n can blow , 
 
 To cool the fever'd head ?
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS 61 
 
 'Twere surely better, though the eye 
 
 See not the vernal bloom, 
 To hear the rippling waters nigh, — 
 
 Inhale the flowers' perfume ; 
 To list the wind-waved forest leaves, 
 
 The song-birds' witching strain ; 
 To feel the green- sward 'neath the feet, 
 
 And dream youth back again. 
 Alas ! unusual torpor lay 
 
 Upon each wasted limb, 
 A dire disease had wrought decay. 
 
 And age had palsied him 
 
 The burthen of twice fifty years 
 
 Had cast his hopes in shade. 
 Had changed his heart's best blood to tears, 
 
 And bade him shriek for aid ; 
 And through the long and dreary hours, 
 
 The spirit's frantic breath, 
 (No bootless boast of human powers,) 
 
 Prayed — madly prayed for — Death. 
 
 Ay ! he, that ancient man, who thought 
 
 To cheat Death of his prey, 
 Who Immortality had sought 
 
 For unenduring clay, — 
 Was fain in this his agony. 
 
 With humbled breath to plead;
 
 62 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 Unto a life-long slighted power, 
 
 From misery to be freed. 
 But ah ! no sheltering wing was near 
 
 To bear the soul away, 
 And still a thing of guilt and fear 
 
 This hoar earth-lover lay. 
 Beside him shon« the glitt'ring dust, 
 
 Yea, t'was a goodly store. 
 Gathered to feed his own vile lust, 
 
 Which cried, " Give," evermore ! 
 But bright and boundless as it seemed, 
 
 Its power had waned at last. 
 And round the shattered Idol gleamed 
 
 A mockery of the past. 
 I glanced me from the shining dross 
 
 Unto the writhing clay, 
 And marvelled aught so vain could cross, 
 
 Or tempt the Soul to stray ; 
 That round an earth-god vile and mean, 
 
 Far-seeing man should twine 
 Hope's brilliant wreath of evergreen,— 
 
 As 'twere a thing divine. 
 
 As Pilgrims on a lonely waste 
 Survey the scene with dread. 
 
 And onward press with fev'rish haste, 
 A star to hail, — a stream to taste ;
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 63 
 
 As guerdon sweet for horrors past, 
 
 Hope's purer ray to shed, 
 So sought I, in this home of gloom. 
 
 That fair neglected child. 
 Whose beauty made it less a tomb, 
 
 More holy, — less defiled; 
 Too sad she was for one so young, — 
 
 But loneliness of heart 
 Will spread a blight, sweet flowers among, — 
 
 Life's sunshine bid depart. 
 And she was meek, — her meekness sprung 
 
 From Nature, — not from art, 
 And ah ! too like the R^ed she seemed, 
 
 To be sent forth alone ; 
 Too like the Vine, still apt to cling — 
 
 Though to a heart of stone ! 
 Poor child I I could not learn her fate. 
 
 But earnest was my prayer, 
 That God would temper the rough winds, — 
 Make this shorn Lamb His care. 
 
 How oft the pure, best gifts of Heav'n, 
 
 We slight, or hold in scorn ; 
 And blindly prize the glittering flower 
 
 Which but conceals a thorn. 
 
 END OF THE SECOND CANTO.
 
 THE 
 
 s 
 
 ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS: 
 
 CANTO III.
 
 THE 
 
 ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 " I questioned Death— the grisly shade 
 
 Relaxed his brow severe, — 
 And I am " Happiness," he said. 
 If Virtue guides thee here." 
 
 Bishop Hebkr. 
 " Death is the Crown of Life, 
 
 Were Death denied, poor Man would wish to die ; 
 Were Death denied, to Live would not be Life, 
 Were Death denied, e'en Fools would wish to die." 
 
 Dr. Young. 
 The Boat for ever leaves the land. 
 But only Shadows there may enter." 
 
 Schiller. 
 
 Now sable Night had spread her wings, 
 Shrouding awhile Earth's fairest things ; 
 But soon her fair and radiant queen 
 Upon her star-gemm'd throne was seen 
 Bedeck'd with regal pomp on high, 
 Serenely chastened to the eye. 
 It seemed a moonlight of the South, 
 
 So promptly night usurped the day, 
 Here was no pensive ev'ning hour 
 
 To bear the tender thought away:
 
 ^8 THE ISLE OF THK DEATHLESS. 
 
 At once the eye of day grew dim, 
 
 And darkness o'er the waters hung ; 
 The Mavis ceased her matin hymn, 
 
 1'he gentle Merle more faithful sung, 
 And through the deep woods, lone and dim, 
 
 The soft melodious cadence rung. 
 The countless stars in glory dight 
 
 Illumed the glowing firmament, 
 Like Angel-watchers, pure and bright, 
 
 To guard a world in slumber sent. 
 Yea, softly lay the moon's bright smile 
 Upon this fair, and gentle Isle, 
 And lovingly her mild rays prest 
 The river's broad and tranquil breast. 
 Upon whose waters blue and deep, 
 I'he Soul might gaze itself to sleep, — 
 And dreams of Childhood, soft and fair. 
 As all our spring-tide visions are, — 
 Pictures of Hope, of Joy, and Love, 
 The heart is destined ne'er to prove, — 
 Cradled in Beautjj^, charmed the breast, 
 And lulled it into blissful rest. 
 But worshipping at Nature's shrine, — 
 Whose wondrous charms I hold divine, 
 And vainly strive with careless eye 
 To pass the humblest flowret by, 
 Or trample on the meanest weed 
 Springing from a God-jilanted seed, —
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 69 
 
 I half forgot my visions past, 
 
 So strong the sweet spell o'er nie cast, 
 
 Till on the placid wave afar, 
 
 My eye discerned — small as a star, 
 
 A little Barque,— vdiich, as it neared. 
 
 So light, so shadowy appeared, — 
 
 So dimly, indistinctly seen, 
 
 With moveless sail, and stately mein, 
 
 And noiseless motion gliding o'er 
 
 The' unrippled waters to the shore, — 
 
 I knew to be no human thing. 
 
 And subject to no earthly king; 
 
 And freighted with no costly prize. 
 
 No bales of goodly merchandize, 
 
 To feast the owner's sparkling eyes, 
 
 And feed the worm that never dies. 
 
 Oh I long I gazed with tightened broath 
 
 Upon this Phantom Barque of Death ; 
 
 For at the helm a form appeared, 
 
 Which Time had to my heart endeared ; 
 
 An awful form, — yet veiled to me 
 
 In robes of Immortality ; 
 
 No grisly speotre, grim and cold, 
 
 Nor ghastly skeleton of old, 
 
 With vampyre thirst for human life, 
 
 And poisoned darts to end the strife. 
 
 And horrid spade to clear the way, 
 
 And fling the clod o'er helpless clay : 
 
 f2
 
 70 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 No ! — Mercy's messenger was he, 
 Empowered to set the captive free ; 
 To burst the spirit's iron chain, 
 And waft it back to life again ; 
 In height majestic, — feature mild, — 
 In mien a king, — in heart a child ; 
 For if in Angel-heart's there be 
 A spark of human sympathy. 
 Then did his bleed, O man ! for thee. 
 I could have fallen at his feet, 
 And worshipp'd him with fervid heat, 
 But " See thou do it not," he said, 
 " Let God alone be worshipped." 
 Still as I gaz'd my nature rude 
 More holy grew, of higher mood ; — 
 I could have wept, yet knew not why, 
 'Neath the mild glance of his sad eye. 
 So gentle, pitying, and bland, 
 This Pilot to a far-off strand, 
 With lifted finger, silently 
 
 The passing Bceue eurveycd, 
 And now my spirit willingly 
 
 The Monitor obeyed. 
 
 A fearful silence reigned around. 
 No breath the green leaves stirred, 
 
 The gushing rills had ceased their sound.
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 71 
 
 Unnatural rest had Nature found ; 
 
 No more far forest-haunts resound, 
 The chant of woodland bird. 
 
 A " Sea of glass" the waters lay, 
 All motionless and still. 
 
 Of leaden hue; — the Moon's dim ray- 
 Was fixed, wan and chill ; 
 
 It was as if this lovely Isle 
 A charnel-house was made, 
 
 One huge sepulchre, vast and vile, 
 Where shadows dwelt in shade. 
 
 And men's resuscitated bones 
 Death's awful nod obeyed. 
 
 Methought I gazed on PoMPEll 
 On that most fearful day. 
 
 When with its light and living crowds 
 Deep, — deep entombed it lay. 
 
 Or, on the dimly visioned-vale. 
 Where of old in God-taught mood 
 
 EzEKiEL spake, and dry, bleached bones. 
 A vast breathing army stood. 
 
 Bat for the still, and grave-like gloom,. 
 I might have thought revealed. 
 
 Those crowds which thronged the Martyrs' path. 
 And to His heart appealed, — 
 
 The sick — the leprous — lame — and blind — 
 Imploring to be healed. 
 
 But not a sound, though faiat, was here 
 
 f3
 
 72 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 To break the direful spell of Time, 
 
 And still I gazed with awe and fear 
 On this unearthly Pantomime ; 
 
 For far and wide along the shore, 
 Yea, far as human sight could wend, — 
 
 Livid with age, disease or care 
 Did this assembled mass extend. 
 
 Some clasped their hands in wild despair, — 
 Some tossed their withered arms on high, — 
 
 Others with supplicating air 
 Bent low in speechless agony ; 
 
 And oh ! a very few there were 
 That with meek heart and stedfast eye. 
 
 And calm composure, waited there 
 The summons to Eternity ! 
 
 But foremost of this little band, 
 The sweet flower of the Castle came, 
 
 A Gem prepared for Fatherland, 
 For her its starry wreath of Fame ; 
 
 Bravely she'd spurned proud Fortune's plume, 
 To win a never-dying name, 
 
 Her Pilgrim staff she leaves behind, 
 To grasp the flower that never fades ; — 
 
 And burning sands, and noontide heat. 
 For waters sweet, and cooling shades ; 
 The spotless robe, the palm, the crown. 
 
 Await her on tlv Eternal shore. 
 Earth — earth with all its vain renown
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 73 
 
 Is past. — Life — life for evermore 
 Is hers,.— and might I purchase bliss 
 
 My heart's best dreams at cost like this, 
 I would not let such hopes beguile 
 My memory of her parting smile. — 
 
 Another form I saw afar, 
 A brilliant but erratick star. 
 Whose earnest spirit restless grew, 
 Beneath a sky intensely blue ; 
 
 Who roved awhile from flower to flower, 
 But found no honey to his taste, 
 
 And sated left the fairest bower 
 To wander on the lonely waste. 
 A votary at Nature's shrine, 
 A practiser of art divine; 
 A Vision'ry who vainly sought, 
 The beauty which his pencil wrought, 
 And visions of Eden's glory drew, 
 Till his own soul etherial grew, 
 And panted in the light to dwell, 
 To see the tints he traced so well. 
 Oh ! never can the common mind 
 To light and lesser thoughts resigned, 
 Sustain or know the higher part, 
 The d«ep intensity of heart, — 
 The passion tameless as the sea,
 
 74 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 And boundless as Eternity, 
 
 With which high art inspires the breast, 
 
 Wherein she reigns a holy guest. 
 
 The Painter's flashing eye could tell, 
 
 As the dim, lurid moon-beam fell 
 
 Upon him there, how eagerly 
 
 He long'd for Immortality, 
 
 And turned from beauty — vain, unreal, 
 
 To gaze on Heav'ns pure, bright Ideal I 
 
 And now from out the silent host 
 One came, but soon again was lost. 
 As onwards with the crowd she press'd • 
 To take her stand among the rest ; 
 
 The mother whose unsoothed despair 
 Had fed the canker worm within. 
 
 Till as malaria taint the air, 
 So filled her mind the scorpion sin ; 
 
 Alas ! so madly blind was she, 
 She knew not that to bend the knee, 
 
 Adore with such intensity — 
 Aught here save GoD, — and only He — 
 
 Is but a gross idolatry. 
 He who hath said " Give me thine heart," 
 Will ne'er accept the meanest part ; 
 Love, — perfect, pure, and this alone> 
 Will be accepted at His Throne :
 
 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 75 
 
 She tottered ou with maniac haste, 
 With a haggard form and sunken eye, 
 
 Hope whispered " Peace is thine at last 
 In the dim shades of Futurity." 
 
 And with such dreams she cheats her soul, 
 In passing to Eternity. 
 
 This passed from my prophetic gaze. 
 
 But yet another form I knew, — 
 Ah ! wherefore covet length of days 
 
 Unless Life's cup he drugg'd anew ? 
 While cares destroy, and strength decays 
 
 ' Tis well our Life is fleeting too ; 
 Not thus thought he, the centre now 
 
 Of a diseased and helpless throng, 
 The maim'd, the halt, the lame, the blind, - 
 
 All ills that unto flesh belong, 
 AVere shared this wretched band among. 
 
 What seeks this aged Pilgrim here ? 
 Death— hath no gold his path to pave, 
 
 Death — can't renew the joys so dear, 
 A lavish world so freely gave. 
 
 What seeks he then to dry Life's tear ? 
 Annihilation — and — the Grave I 
 
 • ••••••• 
 
 T saw the Vessel gliding fast, 
 A Phantom o'er the glassy tide,
 
 76 THE ISLE OF THE DEATHLESS. 
 
 The snowy sail clung to the mast, 
 
 Like the white shroud of a young bride; — 
 And onwards through the gloom she pass'd, 
 
 A thing of fear ! — a thing of pride ! 
 The freight she carried was her last : 
 
 For glancing up the River's side 
 Of all that host so wan and wide 
 
 I was the only living thing, 
 Death left to Life and suffering. 
 
 * • • • • 
 
 The spell was broke, — my dreams were o'er, — 
 
 And with the World as heretofore 
 
 I mix : — but in each glittering crowd 
 
 A Spirit-voice is whispering loud — 
 
 " Remember ! Life, is but a dream, — 
 
 Thou too, must ford dark Jordan's stream! ' 
 
 END OF THE THIKD CANTO.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE APPROACH OF SPRING. 
 
 Gladly I welcome thee, beautiful Spring ! 
 
 With thy rich gifts for the children of earth, 
 Herald of Happiness ! — light is thy wing. 
 
 Wide is thy empire, and holy thy hearth. 
 Thou nufturest flowers — for the summer hours, — 
 
 The young, and the desolate heart to cheer, 
 And with balmy airs, and bountiful showers. 
 
 Thou reviv'st the stores of th e infant year. 
 
 Gladly I welcome thee, beautiful Spring ! 
 
 With snowdrop, primrose, and violet sweet; 
 I saw thy approach, and knew thou would'st bring 
 
 Rich treasures to deck thy beloved retreat. 
 
 G
 
 ■80 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Yes, earth is awhile thy haven, — thy home, — 
 But gladly thou seek'st, when thy reign is o'er, 
 
 To re-plume thy wing 'neath the fadeless dome 
 Which smiles o'er Eternity's far-oflf shore. 
 
 Gladly I welcome thee, beautiful Spring ! 
 
 And joy in thy Mission of Love to man , 
 My long untouched Harp now again may sing. 
 
 Thou hast broke the spell, thou its flame doth 
 fan : 
 Thy glance is above, in the blue, blue sky, — 
 
 Thy footstep beneath, in the green, green sward. 
 No longer my wild Harp can idly lie. 
 
 Each low chord I tune at thy whisper'd word. 
 
 THE P(JET TO HIS MUSE. 
 
 Why woo'st thou me, the desolate and lone, 
 
 The heavy-laden, — press'd by many woes ? 
 So bright a visitant should dwell with them 
 
 Who on the couch of luxury repose ; 
 Whose rose-leaved pathway bears no taint of earth, 
 
 Scarce ruffled by the passing of the breeze. 
 Whom harmony surrounds, and love, and mirth, — 
 
 Ah ! surely thou should'st make thy home with 
 these.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 81 
 
 Then human Life to human hearts pourtrayed, 
 
 Woukl bi^ar resemblance to a pleasant dream; 
 Or the faint music of a hreeze-tuned harp, 
 
 Or, the full gushing of a joyous stream : 
 No cloud would check the ardent hopes of youth — 
 
 No brimming chalice fall to manhood's share, 
 Till sad experience taught the bitter truth — 
 
 That all are born to battle and to bear. 
 
 Yet, p'rhaps, "twere better in less glowing tints 
 
 To paint Life's visions as they onward fly, — 
 Lest youth become enamoured of its joys, 
 
 Foregoing aims more glorious and high : 
 Yes, yes, "twere better, since the light must fade. 
 
 Whose beauty brightens well Life's early day, — 
 That leaf, by leaf, lie in the grasp decayed. 
 
 Than all the flower at once be wrench'd away. 
 
 Then come, bright Spirit ! haste thee not away ; 
 
 Star of my lonely hours ! take not thy flight, — 
 Though my deep mood o'ershade thy lucid ray, 
 
 ' Twill bathe thee in a flood of purer light ; 
 And we will picture Life in colours true. 
 
 To warn th' unwary, soothe the anguished breast,. 
 One spot will thus be found of brighter hue. 
 
 An ark whereon my own sad soul may rest. 
 
 Gl
 
 82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Thou art of Heaven,_of all its gifts the best,— 
 
 And no base earthly aim thy power shall mar, 
 An angel's birthright, — to make mortals blest, 
 
 Sweetly surrender'd from its home afar. 
 Oh ! then no dust of earth shall shroud the mind 
 
 Wherein thou takest up thy bright abode, 
 But its light shine so as to teach mankind. 
 
 The Giver of each perfect gift is — GoD. 
 
 THE SABBATH BELL. 
 
 Hark to the chime of the the Sabbath Bell, 
 Sweetly it sounds o'er upland and dell ; 
 Breeze-borne it greeteth the stream's low voice. 
 At once they blend, — together rejoice : 
 
 One theme — one aim — their melodies seek. 
 To glorify God, and lure the weak ; 
 Oh! the Sabbath Bell, and the murm'ring stream. 
 How they win the heart from each worldly dream. 
 
 Now plaintive, tender, subdued, 'twill come, 
 Like voices calling the spirit home, 
 Or soft, breeze-like sounds, heard in the air, 
 The breath of flow'rs— or a Seraph's prayer.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 8S 
 
 Now loud and full, like the strains alone 
 That triuraijhant swell around the throne ; 
 
 Oh ! the Sabbath Bell, and the flowers brig-hfc 
 bloom, 
 
 How they speak of a realm bejrond the tomb. 
 
 The sweet Sabbath Bell begins to pour 
 Its musical chime from th' old church tuwer. 
 Bidding each loitering step repair, 
 To worship God in His house of prayer. 
 
 They come — behold from each cottage home-. 
 Through " meadow paths," 'neath Heav'n's blue- 
 dome, 
 What groups are pursuing their onward way, 
 To honour, and hallow the Sabbath day. 
 
 The Bell with its Sabbath of holy rest. 
 Betokens the land of our fathers blest ; 
 
 And the stranger's heart, — as he treads its soil,. 
 
 On this Day of Freedom from care and toil, 
 From secular pleasure, and noisy din, 
 Its throbbings hushed — feels a peace within , 
 
 Blent with holy yearnings, devotions swell. 
 
 As he lists to old England's Sabbath Bell. 
 
 We may traverse the wide world o'er and o'er .^ 
 We may restlessly roam from shore to shore,. 
 
 G 3.
 
 84 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And the chiming bell may salute the ear, 
 And the stately Cathedral tow'ring near, 
 With its fretted roof, and enamelled pane, 
 Emhlazon'd escutcheons, and splendours vain, 
 ]May excitement awake, but never dwell 
 In memory's depths, like our Sabbath Bell. 
 
 The Church-going Bell to the Christian's ear, — 
 No sound's so sweet, — no hour so dear, 
 As that wherein he wends his way 
 To the House of GoD on His holy day : — 
 But the sigh of sympathy rends his heart. 
 As his travelled thought flies to those apart 
 From home and country, who have bid farewell 
 To these peaceful scenes, — to the Sabbath Bell. 
 
 But their mission is high, — their aim is blest; — 
 They seek not comfort, they covet not rest : — 
 O'er African wastes, and Indian plains. 
 Where danger is lurking, whei-e darkness reigns, 
 They wander, rejoicing "mid toil and pain. 
 The Gospel to preach, rend the Heathen's chain ; 
 And oh I great their reward, though verdant dell 
 They tread not, — nor hear the sweet Sabbath Bell . 
 
 And England, favoured of Heaven ! 'tis thine 
 To rt'joice in immunities divine, —
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 85 
 
 And oh ! would thy people priz'd more the smile, 
 That torch-like illumines our sea-girt Isle ; 
 
 That the light of Love o'er our Sabbaths flung 
 Could dispose all hearts to adorn the throng 
 That castle and cot, by fountain and fell. 
 Pours forth at the sound of its Matin BelL 
 
 "REJOICE EVERMORE." 
 
 " Rejoice ever ;" 
 What I when the heart o'erwhelmed with bitter woe, 
 
 Doomed from all to sever 
 To which it clung below, — 
 
 Consumes itself in silent grief. 
 And seeks not, — nor expects relief? 
 
 Rejoice ! how vain, — 
 Can man rejoice, when o'er him hangs a curse, 
 
 And guilt, and strife, and pain. 
 His wayward passions nurse ? 
 
 When false, bright meteors bid him stray, 
 And snares and pitfalls mock his way ?
 
 86 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Rejoice ! oil, no ! 
 Not even youth's bright dreams are all unJiinm'J, 
 
 Like Heaven's brilliant bow ; 
 Life seems too lightly skimm'd. 
 
 But rainbow-like, 'tis formed of tears, 
 Which youth stores up for future years. 
 
 " Rejoice ever," — 
 What ! where dark feuds and envyings abound. 
 
 And gentle good-will never 
 In human hearts is found? 
 
 Where no oasis tempts the feet 
 To linger mid its verdure sweet. 
 
 " Rejoice ever ;" — 
 Evermore rejoice, — oh! mockery vain! 
 
 Vain as the endeavour 
 To make Heaven's secrets plain ; — 
 
 Vain as the deep draught given to fan 
 Life's embers in a dying man. 
 
 Yet softly still— 
 The spirit whispers — " Rejoice evermore ;" 
 
 Joy on through ev'ry ill 
 That thou mayst reach the shore 
 
 Where holy joy, a bright wreath flings, 
 To crown the Pilgrim's wanderings.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 87 
 
 The Mother smiles 
 Though in her arms she clasps an idiot boy, 
 
 Alas I no playful wiles 
 Inspire her soul with joy ; 
 
 All there is dark — but from above 
 She wins intelligence and love. 
 
 The Mourner's eyes 
 Are dim with many tears, — the wound within 
 
 Nought here can cicatrize, — 
 And yet, mid the world's din, 
 
 With Faith and Hope to /est upon, 
 He can go ev"n rejoicing on. 
 
 The Exile sighs — 
 Severed from the far land which gave him birth. 
 
 But better hopes arise 
 Which own no clog of earth ; — 
 
 And upward, God-ward, to its home, 
 The dross-freed spirit yearns to roam. 
 
 " Rejoice ever;" 
 Let " bitterness, and wrath, and malice" cease. 
 
 And the sweet human voice • 
 Whisper of Love and Peace : 
 
 Oh ! bright Millennium ! thy all glorious reign 
 Shall teach God's little flock they have not 
 joyed in vain !
 
 88 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE DEATH FESTIVAL. 
 
 On perusing a brief account of the interesting Festival of 
 All Saint's Day, which is still observed in the South of Germany, 
 where the graves of departed friends are wreathed with flowers, 
 and illuminated with lamps and tapers, while the Priest si)rinkles 
 upon them holy water in order to consecrate them, the following 
 simple lines suggested themselves. 
 
 Blazing lamps all brightly gleaming, 
 
 Plants and flowers of goodly seeming, 
 Scattered o'er the low-laid bed 
 Where repose the quiet dead ! 
 
 Mourners pacing to and fro, 
 
 Muffled watchers bending low, 
 
 Mourning Cypress — Weeping Willow— 
 
 Waving in the passing wind, 
 
 Breathing softly o'er Death's pillow. 
 
 Music lulling to the mind. 
 
 Festival ! 'tis thine to fling 
 
 O'er the tomb — the light of spring. 
 
 Festival ! 'tis thine to borrow 
 
 From the heart its throb of sorrow, 
 
 Thine to whisper Heavenly lore, 
 And those hidden depths explore, — 
 
 Where the Spirit won by thee, 
 
 Tempts a dim Eternity.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 89 
 
 Enriching with thy sweet perfume, 
 
 Decking in thy gentle bloom 
 The mystic realms beyond the tomb, 
 Showing fair, frail Nature's doom : 
 
 Feast of Love ! 'tis thine to keep 
 
 Fresh., and warm, and pure, the deep, 
 
 And best emotions of the heart, 
 
 In which the vain world hath no part ; — 
 
 Higher, purer soars the mind, 
 
 In a region more refined, 
 Winning balm, — divinely shed 
 From this commune with the dead ; 
 
 And as the "sacred flood'" descends. 
 
 Many a pious prayer ascends, 
 Regret's soft sigh, with Hope's smile blends 
 The memory of parted friends ; 
 
 And Fancy seeks in things unseen 
 
 A glimpse of Seraph-life to glean. 
 
 Beside an urn of snowy hue. 
 
 One lonely mourner sadly true, 
 
 Bends low, nor let cold hearts deride 
 Beneath sleeps his once gentle bride ; 
 
 Brief was his term of earthly bliss. 
 
 At best, — but fleeting nothingness:
 
 90 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Joy, like a friend, but glads the heart. 
 To win, to cheer, and then depart, — 
 Its brightness serves to barb the dart, 
 To probe the wound, — increase the smart. 
 Though like Asphaltus fruits, but dust 
 To which we cling — yet cling we must ! 
 
 O'er another grave are thrown 
 Piovence roses, newly blown, — 
 
 Drooping snowdrops, meekly pale, 
 And sweet lillies of the vale, 
 Blent with wan blossoms from the tree 
 Whose soft bloom wakes our sympathy ; 
 The buds were twined a bridal-wreath 
 For her who rests on Death's cold pillow, 
 But Rumour's voice began to breathe. 
 Of wreck beneath the Baltic's billow. 
 
 Its pois'nous breath beguiled the flower, 
 She faded from that self- same hour. 
 
 In a lone, sequestered spot, 
 Which the busy heedeth not, 
 
 Tended by the pure and true, 
 One low grave appears in view ; 
 A voice, melodious as the strain, 
 Which the wrapt senses aye retain ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 91 
 
 Heard in some afar-oflf bower, 
 When the Swan's last sweetest sung 
 
 Through the soft, calm twilight hour. 
 
 By the breeze is borne along, — 
 
 Breathes softly, " Sister, let us pray. 
 And glad our Mother's soul to-day." 
 
 Festival ! thy tapers bright. 
 
 Typify Religion's light; 
 
 And thy scented garlands strewed 
 Through Death's lonely solitude, 
 
 Whisper of a brighter morrow. 
 
 Clouded by no tear of sorrow. 
 
 Still thy soffning shadow throw 
 O'er the erring human heait, 
 
 Win it from the dross below, 
 
 Till of Holiness a part — 
 
 It can rise, renewed, and bright, 
 In the second Advent's light. 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 " Alas ! we make 
 A ladder of our thougUts where Angels step ; 
 But sleep ourselves at the foot. Our high resolves 
 Look down upon oiir sluiuberhig acts." 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 Oh fancies fond ! and projects vain I 
 That flit atliwart the human brain ; —
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 How oft we purpose, form and plan, 
 E'en in our mind the structure scan, 
 Of some bright and glorious deed 
 Which would our other acts exceed — 
 As doth the sun the stars outshine, 
 As puie gold that within the mine. — 
 
 Alas ! alas ! Time hurries on, 
 And still we plan, and purpose thus, 
 
 ' Till Oppoktunitt is gone, 
 And hut the Grave remains for us : 
 
 The good we would, we never do, 
 
 But what we would not, oft pursue. 
 
 Thou fading world! dim land of dreams 
 Vain expectations ! airy schemes I 
 Our best intents in thee are crossed ; — • 
 The fabric reared at priceless cost 
 Just meets the passing gaze of men, 
 Then seeks OT)livion's gulphs again ; 
 Sjmngs from the dust, soars to the skies, 
 But soon again prostrated lies — 
 A fragment, — into ruin hurled. 
 Of a decaying, dying world. 
 
 But must our noblest efforts die ? 
 Wasted, is all our energy ? 
 Shall we ne'er on some far-off shore 
 Sec perfected the hopes of yore ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 93 
 
 Yes, yes, vain World ! thou nursery 
 Of Beauty perfect ! yet to be 
 Within thy soil the bud we sow, 
 Which in Eternity shall blow : 
 Thy visions unfulfilled, may be 
 Hereafter — Bright Reality ! 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF PEACE. 
 
 " Oh ! where shall we find, a repose for the inii^d. 
 That dwells with the wreck'd and the dead ?" 
 
 Shall we seek it in mirth, the resource of the gay 
 
 In soft Pleasure's bewildering tiain, — 
 Where the laugh and the jest lure the thoughtless 
 astiay, 
 
 And the lip leains to flatter and feign ? 
 Where the song and the sentiment carelessly flow, 
 
 And the grace-cup goes merrily round? 
 Ye may quaff if ye will — ye shall find it trutli ^tiH, 
 
 In such scenes no repose can be found. 
 
 Hi
 
 94 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Shall we seek it in wealth, in the miser's delight. 
 
 As he hends o'er the glittering ore, 
 And turns pale with afl&right — lest some demon of 
 night, 
 Should but pilfer a coin from the store? 
 From his watchings and fastings, we shrink with 
 dismay. 
 And his god of idolatry spurn ; 
 Leave him sordid and cold still to gloat o'er his 
 gold,— 
 And yet onward our footsteps we turn. 
 
 On the Altar of Mammon its vot'ries fling 
 
 All life holds of precious or dear, — 
 Fly, — fly from the spot, there repose harbours not. 
 
 But toil, with suspicion, and fear; — 
 And though pleasure may seem in the gay hour of 
 miith 
 
 To have won the worn heart from despair, 
 Like the sun-blighted fruit, if you search at the root, 
 
 All is ruin and rottenness there. 
 
 Shall we take for our guide the Muses of old — 
 And the regions of science explore? 
 
 With the sages unroll Fate's magical scroll. 
 And o'er night's starry mysteries pore ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 05 
 
 With Urania ponder o"er studies sublime, 
 
 Of the Heavenly bodies inquire ? 
 Till celestial themes, fill our night and day dreams, 
 
 And such knowledge is all our desire. 
 
 With the hoary Alchymist in mystical cell, 
 
 The dim midnight vigil we'll keep, 
 Where the night with a smile brings bright Hope 
 to beguile, — 
 
 And morn leaves Delusion to weep ; 
 O'er each wondrous process excited we'll bend. 
 
 And dive to the source of his art, — 
 The Philosopher's stone, shall at length be our own, , 
 
 And triumph, — proud triumph impart. 
 
 But alas ! and alas ! to the spirit that pines 
 
 O'er the grave of each earthly desire, 
 When the bubble has burst, that with fond pride 
 was nurst. 
 And the lamp has been seen to expire; 
 When the sweet buds of earth have lost their. 
 perfume, — 
 And the diamond's lustre is dim, 
 And drained dry is the well, whose bright water's 
 a spell 
 Were, of happiness filled to the brim. 
 
 h2
 
 96 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis madness — 'tis folly, to deem that the eye 
 
 That waxed dim o'er sweet dreams of the past, 
 Can be won by the snare,which the world's fickle glare 
 
 In sad mockery round it may cast. 
 Though the mirage may lure the gay, happy and free, 
 
 In the hope " living waters'' to meet, 
 Yet the heart that has known stern reality's tone. 
 
 Can discover the glittering cheat. 
 
 Then on, weary spirit, nor though weary complain, 
 Nay, shrink not, though the dark pall be spread, 
 Though the hue of the tomb shades each prospect 
 with gloom. 
 And thy last living comfort be fled ; — 
 Though the thorns on thy path yet more fiercely 
 shall sting. 
 And thy trembling limbs lacerate sore ; 
 Though the wrathful simoon, with its dread blast 
 consume, — 
 Yet on, on, there's a Haven in store. 
 
 Yes ! yes! there's a calm — a repose for thee yet; 
 
 But that calm, that repose must be won, — 
 The Martyrs of old, pass'd through dangers untold, 
 
 And their glory— their rest is begun :
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 97 
 
 Like them, o'er the furnace of trial exult, 
 And welcome the flames as they rise ; — 
 
 Like them, for the Truth, suffer shipwreck and ruth, 
 And garner thy hopes in the skies. 
 
 From the wretched, the indigent, turn not aside; 
 
 Nor a cup of cold water deny ; 
 Teach the dying to cling, as the spirit takes wing, 
 
 To the ROCK that is holy and high. 
 Then onward, yet onward, at length thou'lt ohtain, 
 
 What richly thy toil will repay, 
 On earth the repose, which the meek Christian 
 knows, — 
 
 And a Heav'n that ne'er will decay. 
 
 THE SOPHIST. 
 
 Through a lone wilderness straying. 
 
 Musing on things of earth. 
 In my finite knowledge weighing 
 The wisdom of their birth ; 
 For much in Creation seems in vain, 
 Till the Spirit's light hath made it plain.
 
 98 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 I saw a rivulet flowing 
 
 In a dark and lonely place, 
 Not an herb, or grass-blade growing 
 Around it could I trace ; 
 But a way-worn Pilgrim of that stream partook, 
 And the glad heart spoke in the upturned look. 
 
 Small fragments of moss uptorn 
 
 From some far, wild retreat, 
 
 By the rude winds onward borne, 
 
 Lay scattered at ray feet ; 
 
 I trod them down, but a starling saw. 
 
 And bore to his nest each little straw. 
 
 I looked on the flower upspringing 
 
 On arid, and desert soil, 
 Sweet fragrance around it flinging, 
 Far, far from the world's turmoil ; 
 And a freshness woke in my weary soul 
 Its elastic bound seemed to spurn controul. 
 
 I had deemed that sweet flower in vain, 
 
 Its life a fanciful whim, 
 But burst was my heart's dreamy chain, 
 And up through the twilight dim, 
 My soul, like a bird unfetter'd, flew — 
 Bathed in that blossom's refreshing dew.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 99 
 
 I thought too, the desert's stream for aye 
 
 In oblivion on might flow, — 
 Bat I marked the Pilgrim thither stray, 
 With his sad cheek pale with woe ; 
 And his grateful glance, as he quaflfed from the 
 
 spring. 
 How it silenced my warp'd heart's dull reasoning. 
 
 A Sophist vain, from the crowded mart, 
 
 Where hopes and aims combine 
 To dim the spirit, and dull the heart, 
 And drown the voice divine, 
 I came in the desert's gloom to brood. 
 Saying " who will show me any good ? '' 
 
 And lo ! from the meek and timid flower. 
 
 From moss and stream a voice replied, — 
 " In us, behold the Creator's power, 
 Nor dare His meanest gifts deride ! 
 Who, from Etna's mount, to the smallest grain 
 Of sand that flits over Araby's plain, 
 
 " Hath made all good, and for use design'd; 
 
 To each atom some mission's given, — 
 Search through Nature's varied page you'll find 
 
 More than just the decrees of Heav'n,
 
 100 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Then banish for ever the Sceptic's creed, 
 
 Go forth, vain mortal ! look around and read.' 
 
 All, all was quiet, the air serene, 
 
 No cloud dimm'd the pale blue sky, 
 'Twas, as if an Angel o'er the scene 
 Was hovering from on high ; — 
 Overpowered — I sunk on the desert's sod, 
 And my recreant heart FlESX sought its God. 
 
 CONTEMPLATION. 
 
 I look on Heaven's resplendent stars, 
 
 I gaze on Earth's fair budding flowers, 
 And ask myself if there can be 
 
 A world more beautiful than ours ? 
 For wheresoe'er my feet may press — 
 
 Through shady grove, or forest hoar, 
 On open heath, in woodland bower, 
 
 I can but tremble and adore : — 
 The footprints of a God I trace 
 In ev'ry clime, in ev'ry place.
 
 MISCELLANKOUS POEMS. 101 
 
 By Avon's fair and gentle river, 
 
 In pensive musing mood I stray, 
 And calm the stream which floweth ever, 
 
 WhUe empires flourish and decay : 
 The finny trihes disport beneath, 
 
 Around melodious voices come. 
 For rock'd above the placid wave 
 
 Is the sweet song-bird's quiet home ; 
 And shadow"d in the silver stream 
 I see the Mind-Eternal beam ! 
 
 I welcome Spring, the pure meek child ; 
 
 And Summer, with her glowing charms ; 
 And solier Autumn, too I love, 
 
 And Winter with his wild alarms. 
 Each season has a blissful dower, 
 
 A spell, a beauty all its own. 
 And in their light I see a Power, 
 
 In ev'ry star a burning throne, — 
 Where sits th' Immutable to scan, 
 And sway the destinies of man ! 
 
 Oh ! lovely is this pendent world, 
 
 Hung in illimitable space, — 
 Whether we tread bleak Northern shores. 
 
 Or o'er sweet Southern landscapes pace ;
 
 102 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Whether we gaze on Eastern pomp, 
 
 Or wander through a Western wild, 
 All, all is good, — all, all is fair 
 
 To Nature's grateful, happy child ; 
 One Hand has formed, — one Power sustains, 
 He knows his King, and hugs his chains ! 
 
 THE SPIRIT (JF TASSO 
 TO THE ADORNERS OF HIS DEAD BODY 
 
 " Even after death, success mocked him, for the corona- 
 tion took place on the senseless dead body. The head was 
 wreathed with laurel, a magnificent toga delayed awhile 
 the shroud, and a procession took place through the city 
 by torchlight." 
 
 Cease, cease your task, officious men, 
 
 Your fruitless eflforts stay ; 
 Can ye give lustre to the eye, — 
 Life to the senseless clay? 
 Or bid your Poet's harp again 
 Awake to sing an earthly strain ? 
 No, — tis in vain to bind that brow, 
 For Bard and Harp are silent now !
 
 Ml'SCELLANEOUS POEMS. 103 
 
 Time hath been when your glitt'ring crown 
 
 I've panted to obtain, — 
 Your fleeting fame, your vain renown, 
 
 I counted goodly gain ; 
 When flushed with hope, with pride elate, 
 I sought to grasp the wand of Fate, 
 
 And with it trace in words of flame. 
 
 On men's cold hearts my vaunted name. 
 
 This was the all-absoibing dream 
 
 That fired my restless soul, 
 ' Tis past, — ' tis gone, — a meteor gleam, 
 
 And I have reached the goal : — 
 Yes ! I have pass'd through Jordan's flood, 
 The breakers roared in angry mood, 
 
 And wild the strife, but strong the power 
 
 That nerved me in that awful hour. 
 
 No more your fetters can confine, 
 Your stony walls contain, — (a) 
 
 Free as a bird, I soar on high. 
 Or roam through Eden's plain ; 
 
 And now, your long deferred reward 
 
 For which so long I toiled hard, — 
 Ah ! I can gaze, and spurn it now, 
 A greener Laurel binds my biow. 
 
 I
 
 l')4 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! what is Rome, with all her wealth, 
 
 Her glory and her throne to me ? 
 Sly glad feet tread on purest gold. 
 
 My Home's the City of the Free : — 
 Your earth-hound sight can ne'er explore 
 Beyond Time's hleak and harren shore, 
 
 To me the veil aside is thrown — 
 
 The Bright Ideal fully known ! 
 
 How hollow then, " the praise of men," 
 
 How light earth's tinsel show; 
 The faithless gloss, how mean, that gilds 
 
 The Dream of Life below: 
 How like an infant, have I been, 
 Pleased with the dewdrops' glist'ning sheen, 
 
 Whose frail bells burst beneath the sun. 
 
 So pass'd my hope's when Life was done. 
 
 But, ah ! mysterious is the spell 
 
 Which enchains the flesh-freed spirit, 
 
 The soul may not of glories tell 
 It is its high lot t' inherit : — 
 
 Then, quench your torches flashing bright, 
 
 Or let them to the dim tomb light; 
 
 To brooding silence, leave the soulless clay. 
 The Spirit soaring seeks Eternal day !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 105 
 
 THE CROSS. 
 
 " When I saw the pious and excellent Bishop CAna standing 
 before the assembled youth of Gibraltar, and in tones of aifec- 
 tionate kindness, and with the dignified energy of one who bore 
 a sacred commission, pointing them to the Cross of Christ, as 
 the sinner's only refuge, and as the only pathway to present and 
 endless glory, I felt there was a moral grandeur about the Gospel 
 which nothing earthly could equal." 
 
 Oh ! Holy Scene I 
 Ay ell might ye melt, and warm, and kindle high 
 With spiritual zeal the gazer's soul ; — 
 Well might he feel all earth's gay pageants vain — 
 Its gaudy, glitt'ring shows, by man's device 
 And for his pleasure formed, hut fruitless toil. 
 Nay, ' twas no marvel that e'en Nature's works, — 
 Gaunt rocks, wide seas, creating thoughts sublime 
 And caverns vast, where in dim silence dwell, — 
 A countless host of forms, unmoved and wan, 
 Lovely creations of the wand'ring seas, 
 Presenting to the bold intruder's eye 
 Visions of Pompeii's buiied multitudes : 
 Caves, wherein reign the spirits of the deep. 
 Whose far recesses with their solemn gloom, 
 
 1^
 
 106 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And vast majestic wonders yet remain (b) 
 A sealed Book, e'en to adventurous man ! 
 It was no marvel that all these should fade, 
 And dwindle into insignificance — 
 Before the " moral grandeur" of God's word,. 
 Before the beaming splendour of the Cross, 
 Blest Symbol of our Faith ! 
 
 The Holy Man^ 
 A faithful Servant of the living God, 
 Though in a stranger land forgetting not 
 The duties of his Heav'nly vocation ; — 
 Seeking to win Disciples for his LoRD, 
 To lure the young and inexperienced soul 
 E'er sin's dark billow hath engulphed it, — 
 Unto the lighthouse of a Saviour's love, 
 The sinner's refuge, and the weary's rest. 
 Well might the gen'rous heart of Heaven ask 
 A blessing on that pious " Man of God," 
 And by enthusiasm's warm glow beguiled, 
 Pour forth the earnest prayer that zeal like his 
 Might oftner dwell with them who fill the high 
 And holy ministerial of&ce ; — 
 That they more faithfully Salvation preach, 
 And be indeed as burning, shining lights 
 In a benighted world.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS* If' 
 
 Oh ! that each voice, 
 Breathing beneath the shadow of the Cross 
 The Gospel tidings of Redeeming love, 
 Came from a heart as zealously prepared 
 To do "the work of an Evangelist," — 
 To wrestle manfully with Satan's wiles, 
 Endure affliction, stripes, imprisonment, 
 Watchings, fastings, — nay, even death itself, — 
 As was Saint Paul's, the divine Apostle, 
 And most faithful friend of his suflf'ring Lord; — 
 With him, " to live was Christ, — to die was gain."" 
 He could brave all things, what to him were toil,. 
 Hunger and thirst, the clamour of the world, — 
 Its bitter taunts, hatred, rude buffetings, — 
 Lassitude, pain, the loss of nat'ral ties, 
 The need of social friendship ? oh! nought; 
 By the precious gift — God's Holy Spirit 
 Nerved, strengthened, fortified : — He sought alone 
 To glorify his gracious Master's name. 
 And gather Souls to Heaven." 
 
 Then raise on high — 
 Ye workers in the vineyard of the Lord 
 " The Cross of Christ;" and be it yours to teil> 
 How Peace and Holiness dwell "neath its shade- x 
 How it leadeth to a rest eternal, — 
 To boundless happiness, and endless day. 
 
 l2
 
 103 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 How erring men with ill-directed zeal, (c) 
 
 Bathed its calm glory in a crimson flood, 
 
 The blood of Christian, and of Moslem knight ; 
 
 Though Peace and Hope, and Gentleness and Love 
 
 Uphold it ;— not war, and strife, and bloodshed. 
 
 How to the mourner's heart its quenchless light 
 
 Can whisper comfort,— to the weary— rest ; 
 
 How its bright beams can light the darken' d soul. 
 
 And cheer with Mercy's ray the penitent ; 
 
 How it becomes the guiding star to faith, — 
 
 The Christian's shield ;— to angel Charity 
 
 With its wide, gentle, glowing sympathies 
 
 A talif^man, imparting energy. 
 
 And oh ! how meek and placid Resignation 
 
 Bends quietly beneath its hallow'd shade, — 
 
 And as the One Great Sacrifice bore up 
 
 To Calv'ry's height, the Cross wheieon He bled, 
 
 So musing on His cruel agony, 
 
 Tell how the trusting Soul its Cross takes up, 
 
 And draining deep the cup of earthly woe 
 
 Smiles at its bitterness ! 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 Serene and calm my moments ever were, 
 For reckless gaiety was never mine ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 10^ 
 
 My spirit gloried in the pale moon fair, 
 
 And loved to mark at eve, the day's decline. 
 My lot was lonely, but my mind was free ; 
 
 I laved not mirth, — I knew not misery. 
 I sighed for Friendship, hut I sought it not ; 
 
 My heart was young, its world was bright and 
 fair, — 
 Sweet flowers were mine, culled in a desert spot, 
 
 I sought for Beauty, and I found it there, — 
 Where radiant smiles on hill and valley lie, 
 
 Won from the sparkling fount, — the gorgeous 
 sky. 
 But that which should have brought my silent life 
 
 Increase of bliss, an added power to bless, 
 Hath made my lonely path with sorrow rife, 
 
 And won from me each hope of happiness ; — 
 Which should have brought fresh zeal unto my 
 heart 
 
 Hath bid its energy, its life depart. — 
 In vain the listless step, and weary eye. 
 
 Seek light and loveliness, where all was fair ; 
 A shadow veils the earth, and dims the sky, 
 
 Nor Beauty— Light— nor Loveliness is there : 
 Awhile Love's sunny wreath adorn'd my brow, 
 
 Alas ! its THORNS are all that's left me now.
 
 110 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A MORNING RHAPSODY. 
 
 Awake, my Soul! and to the far-off woods 
 With deep, deep joy, and thankfulness repair ; 
 The God of nature calls thee from thy dreams, 
 He bids thee to forsake unreal beauty, 
 The dim and mocking visions of the night. 
 For the surpassing loveliness of all 
 That greets thy waking sense. How canst thou bear, 
 Art thou not grieved thy God should call on thee? 
 Should'st thou not rather, as His creature, wait 
 Intent to do His will? Shake off the spell 
 Of an unholy rest, and with the day's 
 First dawn, mount with the joyous lark on high, 
 To sing with him a matin hymn of praise ; 
 And with the bright-eyed Sol commence anew 
 The onward path of Duty. Oh ! like him 
 May'st thou in light pass on ; and though awhile 
 The clouds and mists of earth o'ershadow thee, 
 Be 't thine, at intervals to burst the gloom. 
 From whence emerging, calmly thouFt descend 
 At length, into a pure and holy rest. 
 
 Then up my soul ! dost thou not feel within, 
 A power supernal ? Canst thou listen nov? 
 To the deep melody of Nature's voice,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Ill 
 
 The low, wild murmuring of wind and stream, 
 With sounds that greet the ear from things unseen 
 "Whispermg to the lone, " Thou'rt not alone," — 
 Canst thou heboid thy Maker's works unmoved ? 
 And where, oh! where, on this wide teeming earth 
 Dost thou behold them not? To the world's verge, 
 To earth's extremest limit should'st thou fly. 
 The barren desert with its dead repose, 
 The trackless waves of an untravel'd sea, 
 The solitude — the silence most profound. 
 Shout all with echoing voice the name of— God. 
 
 Then up, awake ! thou vital principle — 
 
 Immortal essence — germ of a more pure — 
 
 A better, — higher, — holier existence ; 
 
 Fair type of Him who called thee into being, 
 
 An emanation of Divinity, 
 
 A ray celestial from the Godhead won, — 
 
 Canst thou look out upon this terrene globe, 
 
 Awhile reflect upon Creation's plan. 
 
 The vast, stupendous work of Deity, 
 
 Nor know thyself incomprehensible — 
 
 Invisible — undying, what thou art — 
 
 From whence — and whither tending ? Yet at best 
 
 Thy nature's mystical, and strange to all, — 
 
 Most wondrous to thyself. Spiritual,
 
 112 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Etherial, wingless, — and yet soaring far, 
 
 And wide, and high , reaching ev'n Heav'ns portals,. 
 
 Elate with hope, — impetuous with desire, — ■ 
 
 Eager to learn that which thou may'st not know 
 
 The hidden mystery of our heing. 
 
 Thus man ! vain man ! uprears his haughty head. 
 
 And dares to question the all-wise decree 
 
 Of Him who was before the world began, 
 
 The Artificer of all human clay ; 
 
 The world's great Artisan: nor His alone, 
 
 The glorious frame-work of this mighty plan, — 
 
 But all that live, and move, and are therein 
 
 His holy impress manifestly shows. 
 
 In all His works, — debased alas ! by none 
 
 So much as man, "the noblest," and the best. 
 
 He with his lawless passions, wild desires, 
 
 Rebellious spirit, and unreasoning soul, 
 
 Defaces the Higli Image which he bears, 
 
 And stamps dishonour on his own best deeds. 
 
 Lord, what is man that THOU thus mindful prove. 
 
 And guard him with TIIY everlasting love?
 
 MISCEILANEOrs POEMS. 113 
 
 DEPARTED GENIUS. 
 
 " Great men have been among us, hands that penned, 
 
 And tongues that uttered wisdom." 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 <Jh ! where are they — the mighty dead ! 
 
 Those glorious Spirits, where ? 
 vStill with us is the light they shed, 
 
 But they are fled — oh where? 
 
 Their bodies, frail aud fleeting dust, 
 Have shar'd the common doom, — 
 
 But with us still, their Spirits must 
 In li-ving lustre bloom. 
 
 Yes, they are with us, round us still, 
 Though veiled is our dim sight, — 
 
 vSuch keen Vitality were ill 
 
 Consigned to Death's long night. 
 
 Then let us with a gentle awe 
 
 Peruse each living line, 
 As sure each tear, each sigh they draw 
 
 Gives joy to souls divine.
 
 114 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! Milton thine the deathless lyre, 
 
 Endued with angel-wings 
 E'en here thy soul with fond desire 
 
 Gaz'd on Heav'n's holy things. 
 
 With conscious power, thy prescient eye 
 Scann'd the Immortal mind, 
 
 But ah ! its mystic light too nigh 
 Thy dazzled orbs grew blind. 
 
 Earth I earth ! how frail thy creatures are, 
 Oh ! Heaven how strong the flame, 
 
 Enshrined within this fleshly bar, 
 To never-dying fame. 
 
 How sweet the " Swan of Avon " sung, 
 
 With what a wondrous skill 
 He bared the hearts of old and young, 
 
 And read them at his will. 
 
 How varied are his matchless strains, 
 He brought, with art complete 
 
 Rich treasures from Arcadian plains. 
 And strewed them at our feet.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 115 
 
 And now the harp whose magic key 
 Could royal bosoms move, 
 
 Is hushed, — but ah ! its melody 
 Is vocal still above. 
 
 And he, whose nature-loving muse 
 
 Chanted her minstrelsy, 
 And drew " The Seasons' " changing hues 
 
 With pencil wild and free ; 
 
 Nature's high priest, round whose sweet shrine 
 
 An added charm he tlung. 
 And from her treasury divine 
 
 Culled themes for deathless song. 
 
 Oh ! gentle Thompson, round thy name 
 
 With fervour we entwine 
 The wreath which blent with Nature's fame, 
 
 Shall bloom for ever thine. 
 
 What sympathetic heart can dwell 
 
 On Byron's tender lays. 
 Nor mourn him, as he bade " Farewell' 
 
 To England and her Bays ? 
 
 K
 
 116 MISCELLANEOUS POEMa. 
 
 His fancy measured heights sublime, 
 And soared on eagle-wing, 
 
 Vet wayward, — oft in simple rhyme 
 He'd touch the softest string. 
 
 On Greece a living light is shed, 
 The Patriot-poet's grave 
 
 Illumes the land whereto he fled 
 Across the foaming wave. 
 
 The world hath not a colder wrong 
 
 For nohle hearts to know. 
 Than that which crushed his spirit long 
 
 And bade its sweetness flow. 
 
 JEver with lesser nature's joined, 
 
 ' Tis Genius' lot to bear 
 The canker of an unsoothed mind,- 
 
 Locked up in proud despair. 
 
 And though the path of Genius here, 
 May boast the glow-worm's fame, 
 
 Gloiy dispels no secret tear, — 
 What is it, but a name?
 
 MISCKLLANEOCS POEMS. 117 
 
 Vain as the garish pomp that gleams 
 
 Around the nun so pale, 
 Cold as her spirit's joyless dreams 
 
 Beneath the solemn veil. 
 
 What pious heart but loves to drink 
 
 At th' Aonian spring, 
 Where Angel's food surrounds the brink 
 
 Guarded by Angel's wing ? 
 
 Where Cowper's muse devout inspired 
 "The Task," that won renown, 
 
 And he, to nobler aims aspired, — 
 An everlasting crown ! 
 
 The Poet-child, whose memory 
 Wonder and pity claims ; 
 
 His proudly, and yet mournfully. 
 Banks 'mongst immortal names 
 
 Wrapp'd in the garb of Charity, (d) 
 Pride saw, but mock'd his aim, (e) 
 
 Nor deemed a thing so mean as he 
 Could win a world-wide name. 
 
 Kl
 
 118 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But He who laughs to scorn the pride 
 
 His wisdom suffers long, 
 Hatli chos'n the weak, the world-denied, 
 
 Thus to confound the strong. 
 
 With lucid rays, the Master Mind, 
 His infant soul imhued, 
 
 He dreamed not of a world unkind. 
 In his dim solitude, (f) 
 
 Ill-fated boy, the rainhow rife 
 With brilliant hues for years,- 
 
 The stern realities of life 
 Dissolved to bitter tears. 
 
 For ah ! his gilded bark anon,. 
 
 He launched upon the wave, 
 With hope, and love, to steer it on. 
 
 To darkness and the grave. 
 
 Too soon his star withdrew her light. 
 And cold neglect o'erspread 
 
 A cloud of everlasting night 
 Around his youthful head.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 119 
 
 (Jh ! Genius, who thy woes can write, 
 
 With faint and feeble pen ? 
 Would mine were steel, endued with migbt 
 
 To rouse the souls of men. 
 
 But ah! too late, the shaft has sped, — 
 The " Stricken Deer " lies low, — 
 
 Stem vengeance hurled the dart that fled; 
 From rancour's deadly bow. 
 
 The new-fledged lark, on fluttering wing, 
 Bounds forth with joyous breath, 
 
 But caught within the fowler's springe, 
 He yields himself to death. 
 
 Thus gentle Keats, whose dawn bespoke 
 
 His gifted spirit's tone, 
 Whose harp of thrilling sweetness woke,. 
 
 With music all its own, 
 
 Which like the breath of dewy morn, 
 The power of stars at even, 
 
 Each holy influence — Eden born. 
 Sings softly, Songs of Heaven . 
 
 k2
 
 120 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Sweet were his lays ; — a spirit-voice 
 From the far realms of light, 
 
 He seemed to make the world rejoice, 
 But lent to human sight; 
 
 For howed beneath the Critic's ban, 
 A flower with mildew spread, 
 
 As dew exhaled, — the haunts of man 
 His gentle spirit fled ! 
 
 And in th' "Eternal City" now 
 
 'Neath Italy's fair sky, 
 His once worn heart and drooping brow, 
 
 Are slumb'ring peacefully. 
 
 Yet not alone his ashes lie, — 
 With kindred clay they blend, 
 
 For Shelley's gen'rous spirit nigh, 
 Holds commune with his friend. 
 
 Erring, yet noble, was his heart, (g) 
 The tender world may blame ; 
 
 He acted well the Christian's part, (h) 
 Denied its sacred name.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 121 
 
 With glowing Freedom's lambent flame, 
 He lit Love's torch on earth, 
 
 And now his Genius wins acclaim, 
 And cheers the social hearth. 
 
 Of names a shining phalanx yet 
 Illustrious beam around, 
 
 How rich in spiritual light 
 Our hemisphere is found. 
 
 Where'er the veering compass turns' 
 
 Bright constellations rise. 
 To fiU, as Bethl'hem's Planet burns. 
 
 Like satellites the skies. 
 
 With Goldsmith's pure, unworldly worth. 
 
 We traverse marsh and fen, 
 And with the " Wizard of the North," 
 
 Roam through the Highland Glen. 
 
 " The Traveller's" journeyings are o'er, 
 " The Hermit's" goal is won, 
 
 And changeful fate shall mock no more 
 The woes of " Marmion."
 
 122 -MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 "The Ancient Mariner" hath sped 
 
 Unto the hridal feast ; 
 Where golden censers fragrance shed 
 
 Upon each marriage guest. 
 
 The pensive Baid of " Clifton Grove," 
 Beneath the pale moonbeam, 
 
 No longer sings of faithless love, 
 A melancholy theme : 
 
 Sad were the musings of his mind, 
 Plaintive his lightest strain. 
 
 His magic song, the soul could bind, 
 And melt it all to pain. 
 
 The world, — it deems the Poet's lot 
 
 Made up of gleam and glare. 
 Nor recks of canker, blight, or blot. 
 The spirit's wear and tear. 
 
 It sees the sparkling, glitt'ring wreath, 
 
 The glory-circled head, 
 Nor dreams the proud bright wave beneath, 
 
 What desolation's spread.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 123 
 
 His gifted Muse, with sable wand, 
 Aye hovered o'er the tomb. 
 
 Foreseeing, ev'n in transports fond, 
 Her youthful vot'ry's doom. 
 
 Oh Memory ! fond Memory ! 
 
 Many a name unsung. 
 Yet claims the tear of sjrmpathy. 
 
 And trembles on the tongue. 
 
 But Time, it fails me now to tell> 
 Of all the Mighty Dead, 
 
 Suffice it that their hallowed spell. 
 Is on the path we tread. 
 
 The fate of Savage, Nature mourns. 
 
 And Otway's misery ; 
 And Neale, whose tuneful muse we yearn 
 
 To hear, oh! "Where is he?" 
 
 Free ! with the "burning light's" of old. 
 
 And Bards of classic fame, 
 The scroll of Destiny unrolled 
 
 Reveals eaich lustrous name.
 
 124 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The harp of Israel sweetly sings 
 'Neath Heaven's empyreal dome, 
 
 And Genius sweeps o'er deathless strings, 
 In his own Immortal Home ! 
 
 FRAGMENT. 
 
 Our own hearts overflow 
 
 With love, and tenderness, and sympathy ; 
 We look for kindness in the hour of woe, 
 
 Alas ! it may not be. 
 
 To meet with answering love. 
 
 And gentle care ; with minds that read our own ; 
 With faith the cold harsh world could never move 
 
 To doubt; — it would atone 
 
 Too much — too perfectly. 
 
 For all the ills that weigh the spirit down ; 
 No, no, such may the love of angels be, 
 
 Our hopes it cannot crown.
 
 MISCELIANEOUS POEMS. 125 
 
 ASPIRATION. 
 
 Oh I for a wing to soar upon — 
 Far above earth and sea, 
 
 To bear me on, and on, right on, 
 To reach my GoD, to Thee. 
 
 Till lost in bright infinity 
 
 Thy dazzling home I see; 
 And with Thy Seraph-hosts bow down 
 
 To worship only Thee. 
 
 Oh ! for a heart of heavenly mould, 
 Wherein earth's dreams expire, 
 
 Where ev'ry hope save one is cold, — 
 But one that heart's desire. 
 
 Whose Altar-fire in secret fed, 
 
 Would burn for thee alone, 
 Till stedfast, pure, and bright, the flame, 
 
 Bore incense to Thy throne.
 
 126 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Poor are the joys the world can lend 
 
 To satisfy a heart 
 Which with immortal yearnings pants, 
 
 Where Thou, great God hath part. 
 
 How can a mind from whence the veil 
 
 Is partially withdrawn. 
 But seek to bask in noonday light. 
 
 Nor sleep at hazy dawn ? 
 
 How can a lip whose thirst has been 
 Slaked at thy honeyed well, 
 
 Again partake of Marah's stream, 
 Whose waves polluted swell ? 
 
 The voice which trembled with a song 
 
 Of harmony divine, 
 Can it bear lighter strains along. 
 
 Breathe other name than Thine? 
 
 Ah ! no, for Thee my harp I'll string, 
 
 To Thee attune my lay, 
 Thy love at morn delight shall bring. 
 
 And gild the closing day.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 127 
 
 A pilgrim, bound for that far 'and 
 Where saints bright honours wear, 
 
 I'll love Thee on this desert strand, 
 That I may know Thee t'lere. 
 
 And as the Treary, stricken ujve 
 Flics jiantiag to lier nest. 
 
 Oil ! may nay refuge be Thy love, 
 P.Iy Ai'k, — my Home, — my Rest ! 
 
 THE PITCHER PLANT, (i) 
 
 " Thou openest Thy hand and finest all things 
 living with plenteousness." 
 
 Thou beautiful plant ! 'neath a tropical sky 
 
 Thy dow-laden branches are gracefully spread, 
 Thy root in a soil parchVl and arid dotJi lie, 
 Aud sultry the Ijreath which around thoe dotli sigh 
 Sweet Child of the Desert ! Tlie wayfarer led 
 
 By gaily tipp'd wings from afar glancing bright, 
 With curious eye from the beaten track turns;
 
 128 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But oh ! joy ! faint and wayworn, what rich stores 
 
 invite, 
 To quell the hot fever that's dimming his sight. 
 What bright nectar flows from thy bounteous 
 
 urns ! 
 
 And sweet to behokl in that desolate place 
 
 The gathering crowds which by instinct are led ; 
 Small animals, — birds, — with the bright insect race 
 Fl(M-k thither to quaff from those fountains of grace 
 The pure draught, by Love in the wilderness 
 shed. 
 
 The traveller gazes with ravish'd delight 
 
 On Nature's mechanism so aptly contrived, — 
 For each stalls, with its tube, and lid pressing tight. 
 Save when dew falls, or rain-clouds appear in sight, 
 From whence the sweet bounty is richly derived; 
 
 Then the fibres contract, — the lid opens wide. 
 And each pendent goblet is filled to the brim ; 
 
 Oh! beautiful forethought ! yes, GoD will provide! 
 
 Not one of the thirsting shall droop unsuj)plied. 
 Though in the lor.e desert, with Nature and lilM !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1 2f) 
 
 THE SPIRIT'S LIGHT IS SHINING. 
 
 ' Tis said, the world is darkened 
 
 By the cloud of sin and crime, 
 The gloomy pall is spreading 
 
 In every land and clime, 
 That the vain Babel-huilder 
 
 For the praise of mankind pining, 
 Still rears a giant fabric, — 
 
 Yet the .Spirit's light is shining ! 
 
 In the den of infimy, 
 
 Where dark brooding guilt retires 
 To gloat o'er its villany, 
 
 And fan its demon-fires. 
 Fed by surrounding darkness, 
 
 Which oft aids the soul's refining. 
 Like the ore within the mine, 
 
 There, the Spirit's light is shining ! 
 
 In the barren wilderness, 
 
 Bright verdurous spots are found, 
 And gems enrich the ocean, 
 
 And sweet flowers the arid ground ; 
 The lightning m the tempest 
 
 Round the dark rock is entwining, — 
 Nor need men grope in darkness. 
 
 For the Spirit's light is shining! 
 
 l2
 
 130 MISCELLANEOUS FOEMS. 
 
 Taey stambie on tlx mountain, 
 
 And at liOon-day slirhik with fear, 
 Tiiey shuii the purest fountain, 
 
 Yet oft linger thirsting near : 
 Emotions wake within them, 
 
 But their deep source ne'er divining. 
 They quench each lovely impulse, 
 
 Yei the Spirit's light is shining ! 
 
 In the echoes of the fores i, 
 
 In the silence of the glen, 
 In the hum of crowded cides 
 
 There's a voice that speaks to men ; 
 At early morn's heart- stirring hour. 
 
 And when day's bright orb's declining- 
 Above, beneath, oh ! every-where, 
 
 Heaven'j Spirit-rays are shining! 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 ' Mr Father," said a bright haired boy unto his 
 
 poet-sire, 
 " Pray tell me what this fame may be which you 
 
 so much desire ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 131 
 
 I've loved to mark the brilliant light which gathered 
 
 in thine eye, 
 As some bright thought flashed through thy brain, 
 
 like stars along the sky ; 
 And thy lips have murmured, " golden baits let 
 
 worldly spirits claim, 
 I ask not wealth, "tis a paltry boon, I only sigh 
 
 for fame." 
 
 *' Then tell me, Father, will this fame you say you'll 
 
 one day win, 
 Restore us to our home again, far from this strife 
 
 and din, — 
 That pleasant home where all the day I twined the 
 
 meadow flowers. 
 And no one chid, or checked my mirth, in those 
 
 remembered hours, — 
 The flower clad cot— the vine wreathed hill — the 
 
 streamlet in the glade, 
 And the little nook so dear, where my Paroquet is 
 
 laid? 
 
 "My Father, will it give these back? and oh ! move 
 
 deal than all — 
 Unto my gentle Mother's cheek, will it the ruf^e 
 
 recall ? 
 
 l2
 
 132 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 For oh ! much it grieves my chUdish heart, to see 
 
 how hitter grief 
 Like the witch's curse has made her life, firail as a 
 
 passing leaf; 
 Then tell me quickly, will fame hring the light to 
 
 her eye again ? 
 And I will join my prayer with thine, that the hoon 
 
 thou may'st ohtain." 
 
 The silv'ry tones had ceased to make soft music in 
 the air, 
 
 But the bright eyes' earnest questioning — the 
 thought — the feeling there — 
 
 The half closed lip yet quivering, with heart- 
 emotion strong, — 
 
 Oh ! few could deem so deep a chord would move 
 in one so young, 
 
 Yet warned the conscious parent that the dazzling 
 meed of Fame, 
 
 Might ask too great a sacrifice — might feed a fatal 
 flame. 
 
 Alai^ ! "twas but a passing care; the thoughtful boy 
 
 was told 
 How much of life is wasted in the sordid thirst for 
 
 gold,—
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 133 
 
 How clutching, grasping avarice, whose deadly 
 
 toils are spread, 
 Entwining like the venomed snake around the 
 
 victim's head, 
 Debases the naost beautiful — most perfect work of 
 
 God, 
 Till man's proud soul claims khidred with the worm 
 
 that crawls the sod. 
 
 But the gift of Poesy, oh ! true Promethean fire. 
 Gave living lustre to the eye, and fed the wild 
 
 desire, 
 As he eloquently told how Genius wins acclaim, 
 What glitt'ring honours, bright rewards, are 
 
 wreathed around the name ; 
 " Familiar as an household word," praised, lauded, 
 
 worshipp'd, sung. 
 Spread by the trumpet tongue of Fame, till all the 
 
 world hath rung ; 
 
 Till every heart hath offered up its homage at the 
 
 shrine, 
 And bent unto an earthly god, endued with lig i 
 
 divine ; 
 But " ever most in jihantasy" are the bright dreams 
 
 that swell
 
 134 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The rapture of the Minstrel's harp, or with the 
 
 Poet dwell; — 
 "Who seeks to make the " praise of men," "the first 
 
 and highest aim, 
 Finds aconite pressed in the draught the fevered 
 
 lip would claim. 
 
 A mute but eager listener the boy impatient stood, 
 'Twas not the first time he had seen his parent in 
 
 such mood ; 
 The soul's deep aspiration, and the high impassioned 
 
 thought. 
 How they mature the youthful mind that's with 
 
 reflection fraught; 
 He had no key to all he heard, yet the burning 
 
 words had power 
 To bid ev'n his meek spirit sigh for the Poet's 
 
 brilliant dower. 
 
 How mutable the scenes of life! what gorgeous 
 
 pageant's this? 
 How the world's gilded baubles lure the wavering 
 
 soul from bliss ; — 
 Methought the Poet's prescient mind, a nobler 
 
 flight could take, 
 And for unseen realities, earth's hollow joys forsake;
 
 MISCELLANEOCS POEMS. 135 
 
 Methought liis gifted eye could see beneath the 
 
 tempting rind, 
 To shun the "dust and ashes" that in Eastern fruit 
 
 we find. 
 
 But go, mark well the kindling eye, the full 
 
 expansive brow, — 
 Few years have passed, yet proudly throb those 
 
 laurel'd temples now. 
 And almost haughty is the smile with which the 
 
 poet greets 
 The homage of a noble throng, that round a throne 
 
 he meets, 
 F(jr loyalty itself is there, to gild the triumph proud. 
 And flatter his self-love who moves the idol of the 
 
 crowd. 
 
 'Tis midnight — in a spacious room the Poet sits 
 
 alone, 
 The glittering symbols of the day's gay rite aside 
 
 are thrown 
 As in disgust, for loosely flung they lie unheeded 
 
 there, 
 In sad and silent mockery of the worn heart's 
 
 despair.
 
 136 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Pause we a moment, ere we lift the veil from tl.at 
 
 recess 
 Mortals may not enter, where God alone has 
 
 free access, — 
 
 The human heart, — whose hopes and tears, whose 
 joys and griefs should be 
 
 A hallowed theme, by no rude hand torn from 
 their sanctuary; 
 
 Respect we then the anguish which these silent 
 hours reveal, 
 
 Which haughty brow, and gaudy smile from the 
 world's cold eye conceal : 
 
 Instinctively the sensitive from " vulgar pity" shrink. 
 
 As some turn from a stream impure, though faint- 
 ing on the brink. 
 
 The Poet's early, anxious prayer, was proflfer'd not 
 
 in vain, 
 His years of toil had won reward, fame, glory, 
 
 was the gain ; 
 Wealth, honours too, unsought for came to crown 
 
 his shining lot, 
 And for a space, a little space, he their high price 
 
 forgot, —
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 137 
 
 But starting from the fevered dream, he woke at 
 
 length to find 
 How ungubstantial's earthly fame, compared with 
 
 peace of mind. 
 
 True, he had climbed Fame's proudest steep, hut 
 
 from the dizzy height 
 To mar the scene, two lowly graves for ever mocked 
 
 his sight; — 
 True he had won the world's applause, but ah I 
 
 its sounding breath 
 Seemed but an echo from the tomb — of voices hushed 
 
 in death. 
 And thus, we weary Heav'n with praj'ers, that we 
 
 some wish obtain, 
 'Tis given, and lo I like Eden's fruit, it brings 
 
 remorse and pain. 
 
 But the truly gifted heart, though crushed. Phoenix 
 
 like will rise. 
 Freed from each fleshly chain, prepared for mansions 
 
 in the skies ; 
 The storm may rage — th' electric cloud burst on 
 
 the doomed lip;ul, 
 It matters not, the sunbeams shine more sweet 
 
 the dark liour fled ;
 
 138 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And from the storehouse of the mind, no gems 
 
 would e'er he won, 
 If sorrow with her dark eclipse ne'er veiled our 
 
 earthly sun. 
 
 Then gaze we yet once again, on the Poet's sad- 
 dened hrow, 
 
 He wears no proud deceitful mask, — no cold eyss 
 throng him now ; 
 
 Ae, who of old, could still the waves, and bid the 
 tempest cease. 
 
 Hath changed the heart's wild tumult into holiness 
 and peace ; 
 
 Through the long midnight vigil with God's " hright 
 winged Angel nigh," 
 
 His soul hath roamed througii boundless space, 
 hath tracked the starry sky. 
 
 A prodigal returning to claim a Fathers love, 
 His erring soul repentant, is watched and wept above ; 
 "A sadder and a wiser man," no gloss deludes 
 
 his eye. 
 But the homely grub appears in the painted butterfly ; 
 On the portraits of his loved ones ho can gaze with 
 
 less of grief, 
 In God's most precious promises lie seeks and 
 
 finds relief.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 139 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 Trust not the Syren, though she paint life fair ; 
 
 The gilded beacon leads but to despair : 
 
 Oh! smoothly spreads the ocean's glassy breast, 
 We dream of stores hid 'neath its gala vest, 
 
 But of the rocks and whirlpools think we not, 
 
 Till our own vessel nears the fatal spot. 
 
 I seek for " Happiness," says sanguine youth. 
 And pressing forward joins the ranks forsooth 
 
 Of eager candidates, pursuing ever 
 
 The ignis fatuus, which they grasp, — ah ! never ; 
 The smiling phantom but derides our cares, 
 Mocks at our ardour, and eludes our snares. 
 
 " I would be happy," tow'ring manhood cries, 
 And onwards with the stream impatient hies. 
 And oft, the glitt'ring speck on Time's wave 
 
 seems 
 Prepared to realize his gilded dreams; 
 But as the keel of his frail bark draws near, 
 The dazzling cheat will ever disappear. 
 
 >. M
 
 140 MISCELLANEOUS POEftlS. 
 
 And hoary age, with Life's decaying fires, 
 Yet seeks this acme of all men's desires, 
 Waits but the passing of a darkling cloud 
 To grasp a sunbeam, — lo I he clasps a shroud : 
 Vain self-deluders, in this world of strife — 
 No soil is found that bears the " Tree of Life." 
 
 Ye cannot rifle Eden of its stores, 
 
 Or bid Hcav'n's flowers bloom on our terene shore's ; 
 In Paradise, — Eternity alone, — 
 The good ye here pursue is fully known, 
 
 Then be't your aim, the Kingdom to possess. 
 
 And added to ye shall be " Happiness ! " 
 
 THE ENTHUSIAST. 
 
 "The young and classical Sculptor who raised the Statue of 
 Charles the 2nd., placed in the centre of the Royal Exchange, 
 was, in the midst of his work advised by his medical friends to 
 desist, for the energy of his labour, with the strong excite- 
 ment of his feelings, had already made fatal inroads on his 
 constitution : but he was willing, he said, to die at the foot of 
 his Statue. The Statue was raised, and the young Sculptor, 
 with the shining eye and hectic Hush of consumption, behefd 
 It there, returned home and died." — D'Iskakli. 
 
 He heard fond words of warning 
 Frmn Friendship's kindly voice, 
 
 But brighter hopes were dawning 
 His spirit to rejoice ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 141 
 
 A fairy realm of light was his 
 Fraught witli imaginary bliss. 
 
 And gentle tears were stealing 
 
 To dim his path of light, 
 And glances mute, appealing, 
 
 To mar his proud soul's might ; 
 Home ties were sweet, — aflfection dear, — 
 Yet might not these check his career ? 
 
 In the far oflF Heavens gleaming 
 Bright glitt'ring stars arose, 
 
 To nerve liim to exertion. 
 To bid him slight repose ; 
 
 Ever the soul by Genius fired 
 
 Toils on, undaunted, and untired. 
 
 A sound, as of many waters. 
 His o'er wrought spirit cheers, 
 
 A sweetly soothing melody, 
 " The music of the spheres I " 
 
 And sunny morn, — and twilight dim, 
 
 Brought back the pleasant sound to him. 
 
 And Fame, with radiant finger. 
 
 Was twining round his name 
 
 Her starry wreath, — " Why linger ? 
 
 On, on, the prize to claim ! " 
 
 Ml
 
 142 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 She whispered, — and his ardent mind 
 Panted the dazzling meed to find. 
 
 Oh ! burning zeal inspired him, 
 
 The zeal that wins renown, 
 And pioveth Genius heir to 
 
 His own immortal crown ; 
 He rests not, till the race is run, — 
 The task achieved, — the bright goal won. 
 
 Oh ! fatal fire, consuming 
 The young and ardent heart. 
 
 What visions bright and blooming 
 Thy fairy spells impart ! 
 
 Too bright, — too brilliant e'er to bless 
 
 The heart in this dark wilderness. 
 
 Yet lovely is thy kindling ray, 
 
 And at thy glowing shrine 
 Bright lamps are feeding day by day 
 
 On sustenance divine ; — 
 Like fiery meteors they come, 
 Illume the world, — and then consume. 
 
 " And I'm content to die,"' he said, 
 
 " Let but success be mine ; 
 And Victory, with her garland. 
 
 Bend proudly o'er my shrine;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 143 
 
 I heed not where may be my grave, 
 Let but the Laurel o'er me wave." 
 
 The work is done and lauded 
 
 By the noble and the proud, 
 Praised, — honoured, — and recorded 
 
 By Fame's " trumpet tongue " aloud ; 
 And blazoned wide his name appears, 
 Linked with the light of future years. 
 
 It is enough, — the Victor's eye 
 
 Which beamed unearthly light. 
 The heart's wild throbbings — strong and high^ 
 
 The cheeks' flush deep and bright. 
 Proclaimed the gifted spirit's doom, — 
 ' Twas passing swiftly to the tomb. 
 
 THE INDIAN WIFE. 
 
 The lonely wife is bending o'er the husband of her 
 
 youth, 
 Her heart to his was firmly bound by years of 
 
 plighted truth ; 
 The love that mocks the world's harsh laws, its 
 
 proud distinctions scorns, 
 
 .m2
 
 144 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oft flies the rich man's dwelling, but the poor 
 man's home adorns ; — 
 
 And she, a bigot Hindoo's child, abjured her pam- 
 pered lot, 
 
 To share the abject penury of the Chandelah's cot. (j) 
 
 Oh! there are points in Nature's laws Philosophy 
 
 may scan, 
 Put deep the secret springs lie hid that work 
 
 Creation's plan ; 
 Nor can the learning of the Sage — the wisdom of 
 
 the Seer, 
 Divine the wherefore it is thus — in things which 
 
 strange appear: 
 Then 'trust Him still,' the Christian cries, " who 
 
 doeth all things well," 
 Nor doubt all that now dimly shows, the future 
 
 fair shall tell. 
 
 Believing this, we will not ask the faithful Indian 
 
 Wife, 
 Why she renounced all that to some could cheer 
 
 and sweeten life, — 
 Her home where golden fish would play in mimic 
 
 fountains bright, 
 And song-birds with gay plumage fill the fond 
 
 heart with delight ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 145 
 
 The fertile plains, the purling streams, the temples 
 
 gorgeous, gay. 
 The wealth and the magnificence which India's 
 
 shores display. 
 
 The Ganges, sacred river, which by many a mystic 
 rite 
 
 Is hallowed, dear to the Hindoo's heart, and 
 pleasant to his sight; — 
 
 O'er these the maiden wept not, when she left the 
 fretted dome, 
 
 The marble baths, and stately mosques, a pilgrim 
 sad to roam. 
 
 There was beauty on her ruby lip, and lustre in 
 her eye. 
 
 And her slight form with the antelope's for sym- 
 metry could vie ; 
 
 And beauty dwelt within her heart, a living soul- 
 felt ray. 
 
 Which ardent as her burning clime, could never 
 pass away. 
 
 Alas! the ravage sorrow makes, — alas! for beauty's 
 doom, 
 
 The vaunted light of form and face soon seeks 
 oblivion's tomb j
 
 146 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Nor in the form that bendeth o'er that lifeless one 
 
 of clay, 
 May the eye trace aught of beauty, save in its wan 
 
 decay. 
 
 Oh ! pining want and haggard woe, insult and 
 
 bitter scorn, 
 With her own proud tribe's contumely her gentle 
 
 heart had torn, 
 For, crime beyond forgiveness, she the shining lucre 
 
 spurned, 
 And clasped unto her bosom the love that stedfast 
 
 burned ; 
 And the husband of her choice, one of an outcast 
 
 race was found, 
 The vilest, and most abject that moves on Indian 
 
 ground. 
 
 Such is the proud decree of men, who in their blind 
 career. 
 
 O'er their suffering, guiltless fellows awhile may 
 lord it here ; 
 
 But debarred from idol-temples, (k) no hope in 
 life or death, 
 
 May God have meicy on the soul freed from Oppres- 
 sion's breath!
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 147 
 
 He will, the pure and bright in soul, who bear His 
 
 impress here, 
 Though man-debased, hereafter shall as glist'ning 
 
 stars appear. 
 
 Then weep not, Zaka ! o'er thee still a light serene 
 
 is shed, 
 A watchful power that hovers o'er the living and 
 
 the dead ; — 
 Though the lamp that lit thy lonely hearth is 
 
 quenched in darkness now. 
 Which once was bright as the fire-fly's light, gilding 
 
 the myrtle bough, 
 The Christian's hope shall nerve thee, his holy 
 
 beautiful faith 
 Shall lend thy gentle spirit wings to triumph over 
 
 death ! 
 
 Go then, in thy pure devotedness, go, go in thy 
 
 trustful love. 
 Mount the funeral pyre, and hail the flame, — 'twill 
 
 waft thy soul above. 
 Oh ! beauty was thine in early day, but a holier 
 
 beauty now 
 Illumines thy dark and lustrous eye, encircles thy 
 
 pale sad brow ;
 
 148 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 For the eye that beneath the surface glides to the 
 
 depths of thy radiant mind, 
 Will find Beauty there, more rich and more rare, 
 
 than the gems in thy land enshrined. 
 
 "IT IS I, BE NOT AFRAID." 
 
 Sailing on a wide, wide ocean, 
 
 Troubled waves encompassed me, 
 Sudden rose a dread commotion 
 In the dark and turgid sea ; — 
 
 Sounds of horror round me ringing, 
 Dying forms about me clinging; 
 That hour, — I may not tell its woe — 
 Those sights — I may not let them go. 
 
 (Jn a fragile spar uplifted. 
 
 Pitchy darkness bade me fear. 
 But no voice, the loved, the gifted, 
 Ever breathed in mortal ear- 
 Words like these — which floating round me 
 My fast fleeting senses stayed. 
 Nerved, o'erwhelmed, supported, soothed me, 
 "It is I, be not afraid."
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 149 
 
 In a dark, dark dungeon lying, 
 
 Bound with fetters, harsh and rude, 
 Frantic laughter, — dismal sighing, — 
 Hung about my solitude : 
 
 By unreal phantoms haunted, 
 By false friendship's memory daunted, 
 Imploring death to set me free, 
 Yet shrinking from Eternity : 
 
 Mem'ry goading me to madness, 
 Ruin, — wretchedness, — and woe. 
 Filling my lost soul with sadness, 
 Shrouding Heav'n's transcendent Bow; 
 Sinking 'neath the world's oppression. 
 Human power refused me aid, — 
 Then how sweet the mild confession, 
 "It is I, be not afraid." 
 
 On a low, low coUch reclining, 
 
 Clammy fingers press my brow, 
 Vengeful wrath, and loud repining, 
 Madly clamour round me now : 
 Time no gentle respite brings me. 
 Fever, — famine, — anguish wrings me, 
 !My whirling brain's wild phantasies 
 Increase my waking miseries.
 
 150 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But am I lonely quite ? Ah, no ! 
 Though sweet home, — earthly ties, I've none ; 
 And am I wholly sad ? Not so ; 
 My soul her glory has begun, 
 
 For now, a voice like that of yore, 
 As waters rushing evermore, 
 Is murm'ring from the Vale of Shade — 
 Lo ! " It is I, be not Apraid ! " 
 
 DEATH WITH THE POOR. 
 
 Last night o'er the lowly roofed hut of the poor 
 
 The Angel of Death spread his wing, 
 The Master, the Husband, the Father, no more 
 
 Shall toil in the sunlight of spring ; 
 Oh ! weary and wayworn, his comfortless bed 
 
 He sought at the close of the day, 
 His tools, and his task, lie about the low shed. 
 
 The workman is up, and away ! 
 
 There is death in the hovel, and grief in the heait, 
 
 The true wife is desolate now, 
 In her utter despair oft the burning tears start, 
 
 And agony saddens her brow ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 151 
 
 But her children are round her imploring for food, 
 
 The cares of a household appear, 
 With beggary, — famine, so long stoutly withstood. 
 
 Her soul's deeper feelings to sere. 
 
 She may not recline in the langour of noon 
 
 To mourn o'er the past with its bliss, 
 The mind's gentle world would be darken'dfull soon 
 
 By the worrying trifles of this : 
 Oh no ! tis not hers to indulge in her woe, 
 
 Tis in action her life must be spent ; 
 The " luxury of tears " the rich only know, 
 
 Thus, their griefs and their sorrows find vent. 
 
 Yet mother ! meek mother ! there's comfort for thee 
 
 More deep and enduring than theirs, 
 Though thy heart's pent up anguish no human 
 eye sees. 
 
 For thy weal no human heart cares ; 
 The strong-hearted dead with the Father in Heaven, 
 
 Looks down on thy steadfast career. 
 As thy trials, thy days, to thee strength shall be 
 given. 
 
 Then mother ! meek mother, ne'er fear.
 
 152 MISCELLA^EOUS POEMh. 
 
 THE MENDICANT'S CONFESSION. 
 
 I passed by a lordly mansion-house, 
 
 With a heart opprest with care, 
 I turned with an eager, wistful eye, 
 
 To mark what was passing there ; 
 Oh ! why did I feel such an anxious wish 
 
 Thus to learn what was nought to me ? 
 For I said, the gauds of the rich and proud 
 
 Mock the poor in their misery : — 
 Shortsighted, and selfish, we reason thus, 
 
 As the gilded coach rolls by, 
 Nor pause to know that a heart of woe 
 
 May dwell 'neath a radiant eye. 
 
 As I stood before an uncurtained room, 
 
 In the glitter of wealth arrayed, 
 I sighed as I thought of the ceaseless gloom 
 
 My own wretched home displayed ; 
 I thought of the weary, wasted hours, 
 
 By want and despair consumed. 
 And I dared to question His decree 
 
 Who me to such lot had doomed : 
 JNly pulse beat quick, and a maddening thrill 
 
 vShot thriiugh my bewildered brain, 
 \y the roofless shed, and the crust of bread, 
 
 Eat in fear and earned with pain,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 153 
 
 The angry scowl, and the bitter taunt, 
 
 And the curses dire and deep 
 Which welcomed me Irom my daily rounds, 
 
 And broke on my troubled sleep 
 I pictured then ; and in frenzied mood 
 
 I sank on the pavement bare, 
 And proffered unto the all-wise God, 
 
 A wild and impious prayer ; 
 For methought His vial of wrath was poured 
 
 On my erring head alone, — 
 While free and fair, in pomp and glare. 
 
 The " Children of Earth" pass'd on. 
 
 The calm, calm rest of the silent grave, 
 
 'Neath the cold, dark wave allured, — 
 But how could I dare Heav'n's wrath, and sink 
 
 A wSuicide ! — lost, — abjured ? 
 In that moment of dread, a low soft voice 
 
 In grief's most harrowing tone, 
 Thrill'd my lone heart through, as it murmured 
 thus, 
 
 " My Father ! '— " Thy will be done." 
 Again I stood at the lamp-lit pane, 
 
 Still the gorgeous light was there. 
 But the trappings gay, the fine array. 
 
 No longer could claim my care. 
 
 Nl
 
 154 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A lady, fair, with a brow of snow, 
 
 And a maniac's eye of light, 
 But Madonna-like, and chastened now. 
 
 As in the Redeemer's sight 
 With clasped hands raised, at that Altar knelt, 
 
 Where I had a suppliant been ; 
 But a trembling dread on my spirit fell 
 
 As I gazed on this holy scene : — 
 For though, as in a giant's grasp, it shook 
 
 That beautiful, fragile frame, 
 And though fearful throes told how deep her 
 woes. 
 
 The murmur was still the same, 
 
 <' My Friend ! my Father ! Thy will be done." — 
 
 I thought on my own wild prayer. 
 The one — righteous Abel's offering. 
 
 But mine — Cain's rejected care : 
 That fair being mourned o'er the early doom 
 
 Of her first, and only tlower. 
 Just borne to the narrow, and silent tomb, 
 
 A bud from Earth's choicest bower : 
 ' Twas all of the loved the dark grave had left, 
 
 And enshrined in its inmost part 
 It dwelt in a light, deep, enduring and bright^ 
 
 The love of that desolate heart,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 155 
 
 Whose sympathies warm, and affections pure, 
 
 Were hid like gold in a mine, — 
 For her haughty lord, with his heart of ice. 
 
 Knew not the treasure divine 
 Which he rudely treated with cold neglect, 
 
 Or led with capricious care, 
 From her gilded cage, that the world might know 
 
 His bride was surpassing fair : 
 And few, as they gazed on that glittering form> 
 
 As it moved mid pomp and din. 
 Would hear the low sigh, — mark the vacant eye 
 
 Which spoke the unrest within. 
 
 I turned away from the tale I heard. 
 
 From the rich man's home I fled, 
 Nor paused, till with wild foreboding heart 
 
 I regained my humble shed ; 
 For I, like the gentle saint, whose lot 
 
 Now awoke the gushing tear, 
 The first I for long, long years had shed, — 
 
 Had a blossom, fair and dear, 
 And like hers, 'twas my only earthly stay. 
 
 The star of my wayward fate. 
 Prostrate 'neath Thy rod, how merciful God, 
 
 I loath'd my degraded state. 
 
 When the humbling truth on my conscience snio*e 
 To my heart in silence borne, 
 
 n2
 
 156 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The hope of the wicked shall not depart, 
 
 But the loved of the Lord shall mourn : — 
 The Angel of Death, my treasure had spared, 
 
 But had spread his darkling vest 
 O'er the lordling's home, and snatched the heir 
 
 From its sinless mother's breast : 
 A two-fold lesson was taught me then, 
 
 On that eventful night, — 
 When my spirit broke the world's stern yoke 
 
 And took a " burthen light." 
 
 The chariot gay, and the courtly throng, 
 
 Have since passed unheeded by. 
 For I learnt 'neath brocade and ilashing gems. 
 
 E'en a breaking heart may lie : 
 I have passed since then by the rich man's home. 
 
 But no envy awoke in me, 
 My heart's evil passions were tamed, subdued 
 
 By Christian humility : — 
 The cup was bitter, but the trial past. 
 
 Of the draught that yet remained 
 I could freely drink, nor a moment shrink, 
 
 Though with it my life-blood drained. 
 
 I have knelt since then by the tatter'd couch, 
 Where my worshipped infant lay,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 157 
 
 But my idol was shatter'd, my earth-star fled, 
 
 I gazed but on breathless clay : — 
 'Twas a fearful test, but my brow was calm, 
 
 My once turbulent spirit still, 
 I resigned my child to the GoD who gave, 
 
 Contented to do His will ; 
 For I knew the stroke just, and inflicted in love. 
 
 To perfect the work begun. 
 And I saw but the smile of my SAVIOUR the while — 
 
 I murmured " Thy will be done." 
 
 LOVE THOU. 
 
 "Love not, love not, — 
 
 The thing you love may die ." 
 
 Though all that is human to earth must return. 
 
 And the dearest and best, in the funeral urn 
 
 In darkness enshiouded for ever may lie: 
 
 While flowers gem the earth, and the sun gilds 
 
 the sky, 
 
 Love thou ! 
 
 Though thy heart throb to bursting, thy spirit 
 
 refuse 
 In the joys of the worldling its sorrows to lose ;
 
 158 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Though the gloom of the grave where the loved 
 
 one is laid, 
 O'er thy heart's brightest thoughts flings a mantle 
 
 of shade, 
 
 Love thou ! 
 
 Yea, let Love be the motto — the watchword — the 
 
 guide. 
 That shall nerve thee, and arm thee, whate'er 
 
 may betide ; 
 Though the fair flower may wither, the loved dust 
 
 decay. 
 And the world's shining vanities vanish 
 
 away, 
 
 Love thou ! 
 
 For the spirit of Love, on light wing shall soar, 
 Triumphant, exulting, when Time is no more ; 
 And the bright chain here wove, in one Infinite 
 
 bound. 
 The pure loved, the true loving, shall circle 
 
 around ; 
 
 Love thou !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 159 
 
 THE VOICE OF SPRING. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming, 
 
 With a store of precious things ; 
 Perfumes, sweet as of Arabia, 
 
 Breathe where'er I spread my wings ; 
 Buds are bursting — leaves expanding, 
 
 Flora's sweetest gems surround, 
 Dotting green fields, sprinkling meadows 
 
 Blushing in the garden ground. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming, 
 
 I have burst the giant's chain. 
 Frost and snow, and ice are speeding. 
 
 Vanquished by my sylvan train ; 
 Ye may track me on the mountain, 
 
 Ye may trace me iu the dell, 
 Ling'ring by the pleasant fountain, 
 
 Where the softest breezes swell. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming. 
 Tell the old man by the fire, — 
 
 Reach his staff, and put his hat on. 
 He may have his heart's desire ; 
 
 He may wander by the streamlet, 
 It will murmur in his ear.
 
 160 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 He may traverse dell and dingle, 
 Softest verdure will appear. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming 
 
 Life and Love are in my train, 
 I have wooed each truant song-hird 
 
 From his hright home o'er the main ; 
 Gentle Zephyrs hear me onward, — 
 
 Balmy dews my power expand ; 
 Skies of azure, beaming beauty. 
 
 Smile above my fairy wand. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming. 
 
 In the pleasant vallies gay, 
 I am weaving for fair maidens 
 
 Lovely coronals for May ; 
 Not a moment am I idle — 
 
 I would cheer each drooping heart, 
 And with Winter's icy mantle 
 
 Bid each gloomy thought depart. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming. 
 Children listen to my voice ! 
 
 Daisies fair, and cowslips plenty, 
 Shall your sinless hearts rejoice ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 161 
 
 Gather them to deck your garlands, 
 Wreath them round each joyous brow ; 
 
 Revel in the golden sunbeams — 
 Ye may laugh at sorrow now. 
 
 I am coming, I am coming. 
 
 Gilding all things with my ray, 
 Emblem of a spring eternal, 
 
 A future, long unclouded day ; 
 And oh ! if my transient brigh tness 
 
 Can to the heart such raptures lend. 
 How will the spirit bear the splendour 
 
 (Jf that bright Spring which ne'er shall end? 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY AN INSCRIPTION 
 IN MILVERTON CHURCH-YARD. 
 
 " Not one of these little ones shall perish." 
 
 Peace upon earth ; — 
 ^Yhe^e ? In the far lone spot where childhood sleeps, 
 
 The loved, the bright of birth, 
 O'er whom affection weeps ; 
 
 'Tis meet it should be so, — yet gloom 
 Hovers not o'er so fair a tomb.
 
 162 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 No. — Hope is here, 
 "Waving her golden wand" above the spot, 
 
 And Seraph -voices clear 
 Speak of a brighter lot 
 
 The lovely, gentle triad share 
 In Eden's mansions ever fair. 
 
 Yes ! Peace is here, — 
 Where purity and innocence repose; 
 
 A lucid, brief career. 
 Doomed suddenly to close. 
 
 Gave unto Heav'ns refulgent crown, 
 Two peerless gems of fair renown. 
 
 And soon, the third, 
 A frail and beauteous bud, blighted, grew dim; 
 
 Jehovah gave the word — 
 Forth flew the Seraphim, 
 
 And gathered in one hallowed grave 
 They sweetly sleep, love could not save, 
 
 Yet doth it live 
 An undeca3ring principle that dwells 
 
 In the soul's depths, to give 
 Balm to the heart that swells ; 
 
 When for the loved in sweet employ, 
 It wins a glimpse of future joy.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS P0EM9. ISB 
 
 These blooming flowers — 
 Love planted them, to scent with fragrant breath 
 
 Through Summer's sunlight hours 
 The hushed that sleep beneath ; 
 
 To emblem forth their beauty, when. 
 They trod the busy haunts of men. 
 
 A tribute meet, — 
 For fresh, and pure, and young, from, guile as free^ 
 
 As holy childhood sweet, 
 TJiey live in harmony ; 
 
 But lo ! the Death-stain mocks their bloom. 
 And they too, share the darkened toiub. 
 
 They sleep for aye; 
 A sealed doom is theirs, men o'er, them tread, , 
 
 Heedless of the decay 
 Around their pathway spread; 
 
 No Seraph-wing shall lustre cast; 
 No trump arouse them at the last. 
 
 No! gentle flowers, 
 Men weep not when ye die, but onward go- — 
 
 Hoarding fur future hours 
 The deep, deep stream of v^oe, 
 
 Which shed o'er ye, were not in vaiir — 
 Ye death-doom'^d children of the plain.
 
 164 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 O'er human flowers 
 The heavy sigh is heaved, — the tear is shed,. 
 
 Through weary wasted hours, 
 Above their lonely bed ; 
 
 But ah ! how vain such teat and sigh, 
 Their life is love — their home the sky. 
 
 Oh ! mock'ry sad ! 
 Give to the perished dust its late fair form, 
 
 Make the now cold heart glad, 
 Seclaim it from the worm ; 
 
 Yea ! win the soul from yon wide, radiant sphere. 
 And chain it to the narrow pathways here : — 
 
 What would ye gain ? 
 Alas ! nor love, nor gratitude, nor peace ; 
 
 The spirit's throbbing pain 
 On earth would never cease ; 
 
 No Angel-lip of earthly founts can drink, 
 Or piize the bubbles that surround the brink. 
 
 The " still, small voice,"— 
 How would its tones condemn — its whisp'rings thrill, 
 
 The guiltiness of choice. 
 The selfishness of will. 
 
 That bade a worm above its MAKER tower — 
 And seek to wrest from Him, His wand of power.
 
 MISGEtLANEOUa POEMS. 
 
 165 
 
 No ! mourners no ! 
 Still the spot where lie your dear ones cherish, — 
 
 Believe — rejoice to know,. 
 " Not one of them shall perish ;" 
 
 The flower may fade, the marble may decay, 
 ButGoD will claimbisown at the Great Day. 
 
 END OF THE POETICAL PIECEiJ.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 (») Tasso was confined seven years in the Hospital of Saint 
 Anne, as a lunatic. 
 
 (b) Saint Michael's Cave, Gibraltar, "You see around you in 
 beautiful stalagmites,, a hundred grotesque forms, some in sit- 
 ting, some in standing postures, all shrouded in dusky grandeur." 
 
 (c) The Crusaders. 
 
 (d) Thomas Chatterton was a pupil at the Blue Coat School, 
 Bristol, 
 
 (e) All Readers know the result of Chatterton's application to 
 Horace Walpole. 
 
 (f) The Muniment Boom, Saint Mary's, RedclifFe, Bristol. 
 
 (g) " If Shelley were an Atheist, he was an Atheist whom a God 
 might love, and in whom we may perceive a brother ; who by the 
 fraternal affection that binds the race together, would point the 
 aspirations of that race upwards, towards whatever is most true, 
 beautiful, sublime and enduring, and if that be not religion, 
 there is no religion on the face of the earth." 
 
 (i) "The Pitcher Plant abounds in those stony and arid parts 
 of Java, from which birds and quadrupeds must migrate in 
 search of water, were it not for this remarkable vegetable pro- 
 duction. Not merely two, nor three, nor yet ten large pitchers 
 are assigned to each plant, but every leaf-stalk has its own." 
 
 (j) The Chandelahs are one of the Tribes of India. "They 
 are outcasts from all the rest, being the children of mixed mar- 
 riages, &c." 
 
 (k) The Chan delah— "The Gates of Jaggernath are shut 
 against bim, and be is driven with equal disgrace from the 
 society of men, and the temples of the gods."
 
 C T) A T) ri TIT Ci. \JT -n AT m PI 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page '2o, line ", read becomes for become. 
 
 4;). 
 
 " 
 
 . . not for nor. 
 
 73. 
 
 ~ 
 
 . . erratic for erratitk. 
 
 74. . 
 
 • 1'!. 
 
 . . taints for taint. 
 
 ri-'), . 
 
 6, . 
 
 . pour for pours. 
 
 iii;, . 
 
 • 1"', 
 
 . simoom for simoon. 
 
 107, . 
 
 . 1(>, 
 
 . feiiowship for friendship 
 
 loO, . 
 
 S, . 
 
 . powers for power. 
 
 o
 
 NOTES. 
 
 (») Tasso was confined seven years in the Hospital of Saint 
 Anne, as a lunatic. 
 
 (b) Saint Michael's Cave, Gibraltar, "You see around you in 
 beautiful stalagmites,, a hundred grotesque forms, some in sit- 
 ting, some in standing postures, all shrouded in dusky grandeur." 
 
 (c) The Crusaders. 
 
 (d) Thomas Chatterton was a minil at the Ttino r/.-. c^i — i 
 
 UUI.1IUI1. i^oi merely two, nor three, nor yet ten large pitchers 
 are assigned to each plant, but every leaf-stalk has its own." 
 
 (j) The Chandelahs are one of the Tribes of India. "They 
 are outcasts from all .the rest, being the children of mised mar- 
 riages, &c." 
 
 (k) The Chandelah — "The Gates of Jaggernath are shut 
 against bim, and be is driven with equal disgrace from the 
 society of men, and the temples of the gods."
 
 SPARE MOMENTS 
 
 OR, 
 
 <L 
 
 iijjts ill :|5rD5r. 
 
 o
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 "Time wasted is existence, — used is life." 
 
 Young. 
 
 " Guard well thy thought ; our thoughts are 
 heard in Heaven." Yoi;nc. 
 
 ECONOMY. — Economy is absolutely necessary 
 in every condition of life ; it is a duty equally 
 incumbent on the rich as the poor . Where GoD 
 bestows with a more than ordinarily liberal hand 
 His favours, it is not that man should abuse His 
 bounty, but that of his abundance a little should be 
 spared for those whom Providence has placed be- 
 neath him in their earthly destiny ; and oh I of 
 what a pleasure do they deprive themselves who 
 make Self the object of their idolatry, and lavishly 
 
 ol
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 expend whole hoaids of wealth in egotistical gra- 
 tifications, yet can turn away unmoved from the 
 heartfelt appeal of the desolate widow, or the 
 piteous cry of the famishing orphan : — alas ! they 
 know not the delight of imparting happiness, of 
 drying the tearful eye, j\,nd raising the drooping 
 spirit. Sweet, douhly sweet, is the prospect of 
 happiness to the heart conscious of having heen, 
 through Heaven, the humble instrument of its 
 communication. 
 
 Economy, even in the minor concerns of life> 
 is also of vast importance : little causes lead to 
 great effects, and prodigality in trifles, must even- 
 tually bring want, with its long train of evils. 
 
 — o— 
 The Chamber of Death. — How awful is the 
 solemnity which pervades the chamber of death ! 
 Its dull uniformity, its cheerless aspect, — the 
 closely drawn curtains, the dim light, — the silence 
 unbroken and profound ; then the coffin, with its 
 lifeless tenant, whose rigid and icy features so- 
 calm, — so still, — so unmoved ; the closed eyelid, 
 the sunken mouth, — all, all strike a gloom inta 
 the heart, and impress with awe the beholder. 
 (Jh ! who that has once gazed on Life's last scene, 
 can ev t forget the impressions there received, or 
 cease to remember his own mortality ?
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 Our Village Church. — How many and dear 
 are the memories which linger round the neat little 
 church of our native village ! There was our first 
 devotional offering made to our GoD. There we 
 may have wept tears of sacred sorrow over the 
 remains of a dear departed one ; or have stood 
 beside the Holy Altar while the pastor pronounced 
 the nuptial benediction on two loving and lovely 
 beings, bound to us by some interesting and gentle- 
 tie. We may wander far and wide, and many a 
 magnificent structure erected for the worship of 
 God may excite our admiration ; many a noble 
 edifice we may behold with reverence ; but flir 
 different are the feelings that hallow the remem- 
 brance of the little consecrated Temple, rude 
 perhaps, but dear, it may be dearer, than when in 
 days of yore we bent beneath its humble rcof the 
 
 pious knee. 
 
 — o— 
 
 TUE Soul Immortal. — What more impressive 
 conviction can we have of the Soul's immortality 
 than its perpetual unrest on earth ; that sense oi 
 " an aching void," which eternity alone can fill;* 
 Those devout and ardent aspirations after some 
 visionary good, which lead the restless spirit to try- 
 pursuit after pursuit, follow pleasure after pleasure, 
 till like a child sated with sweetmeats, it turn^ 
 
 o*2
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 palled and disgusted, and is compelled to fly at 
 length to the only resource for such heart-burnings, 
 the Hope of " another, and a better world." 
 
 — o— 
 Affliction. — The deeper vre drain the cup of 
 affliction, the nearer we draw to our GoD ; and as 
 with patient humility each drop of the hitter draught 
 is received, do we win for ourselves, even on earth, 
 a portion of that " peace which passeth all under- 
 standing," with the hope of a glorious reward 
 hereafter : the seeing, and knowing, and enjoying 
 Him for ever and ever. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Death Death is inevitable ; all must die ! Is 
 
 it not then better to be acquainted with the road we 
 are to travel ? Is it not much better to be prepared for 
 a visitor, than annoyed by his appearance when we 
 least expected, least wished for him? How terrible 
 would it be were death to come to us as a " thief 
 in the night," when overwhelmed with sleep, we 
 could not grapple with our mighty foe, but must 
 necessarily sink, passive and miserable victims into 
 utter and irretrievable ruin. Oh ! far better is it, 
 (however hard it may seem to those, who, lovers of 
 pleasure more than lovers of God, follow after, and 
 find their chief delight in the gratifications of 
 sense,) to pass here through the furnace of afflic-
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 tion, to feel those griefs which were at first heavy 
 to bear, prove the gradual, yet sure decay of that 
 hold the world had upon us; and by darkening our 
 eyes to its false lights, open those of our under- 
 standing, until we see clearly that Light " which 
 shineth more and more unto the pure and perfect 
 
 day." 
 
 — o— 
 
 Love Omnipotent.— To the heart that che- 
 rishes an exclusive attachment, notliing more is 
 requisite than the presence, the society of the ob- 
 ject of its adoration ; the mere consciousness of 
 such vicinity is sufficient ; it lends a charm to all 
 around, creating light and beauty, where all before 
 appeared deformity and desolation. The time and 
 place, with all things animate and inanimate, which 
 seemed in those blissful moments to be irradiated 
 by the same spiritual light, identify themselves 
 with its association, and become eternally hallowed 
 and enshrined in the heart of the faithful votary of 
 affection, a memory that will not pass away. An 
 atmosphere uncontaminated, unalloyed by aught 
 less pure than the awful love of the Divinity, 
 breathes around : the world with its chilling cares, its 
 withering griefs, as if by the power of enchantment, 
 are forgotten ; for awhile they cease to rankle in the 
 soul, all there is dreamy bliss, and trance-like
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 joy. The mind dwells not on the past — looks not 
 
 to the future ; beholds but one object — is filled 
 
 with but one idea. Such feelings spring alone fiom 
 
 love's purest essence separated from all the dross 
 
 that clogs and fetters its earthly nature, affording 
 
 the wrapt spirit a foretaste while on earth, of that 
 
 supremacy of bliss enjoyed perpetually by the 
 
 Saints in Heaven. 
 
 — o— 
 
 A Faithful Friend. — Of all the blessings 
 this world has to bestow, there it not one more truly 
 valuable than a faithful friend; one, who like the 
 Good Samaritan, will abide in the day of adversity, 
 nor flee when sorrow cometh : one in whom the 
 heart's secret thoughts may be confided, and re- 
 main there sacred, treasured with care as a valued 
 deposit ; regarded not as his own, but the property 
 of another. One who will not hastily condemn, but 
 maturely judge, and mildly reprove errors his con- 
 science forbids him to countenance ; who, firm in 
 purpose, would choose rather to bear with patience 
 the unmerited scorn of the being he sought to 
 save, even though his own heart bleed with the 
 bitter taunts and reproaches heaped upon it, than 
 see the friend he loves err from the right way, 
 the path of honour and rectitude, without an 
 attempt, however hopeless, to rescue him from 
 destruction. "Faithful are the wounds of a friend,
 
 SPAKE MOMENTS. 
 
 but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful." 
 Friendship endears life ; it is the enhancer of our 
 joys, the sharer of our sorrows ; without a friend 
 the world is a wilderness, and man a cheerless 
 and solitary being, without an object on which to 
 rest the social and best affections of his nature ; 
 a stranger to the purest, holiest joys in existence ; 
 he is an outcast, an alien, alone in the midst of 
 a vast multitude, for though millions may surround 
 him — though the parasite flatter — the woildling 
 smile — the cringing suppliant bend the knee — 'tis 
 all delusion! deceitful as the kiss of the traitor 
 Judas, they warm the heart but to betray it. Then 
 "trust no man, till thou hast tried him;" yet 
 be not uncharitable, soon mayest thou learn to 
 distinguish ; " a friend loveth at all times," ainf 
 when thou hast gained this inestimable treasure, 
 this pearl beyond all price, guard it well ; suffer 
 not a breath to dim the purity of the gem thou 
 hast in possession ; let neither doubt nor danger, 
 sorrow nor sickness, draw thee from him, and he 
 will not forsake thee when thy strength faileth 
 thee, but " through all the changing scenes of 
 life," his firm unshaken faith will afford thee 
 comfort, and thou wilt be rewarded with the sooth- 
 ings of his faithful counsel ; he will be thine, not 
 only through the crooked and thorny paths of this 
 life, but through all Eternity.
 
 10 
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 Benevolence its own Reward What an 
 
 extatic feeling of fervent admiration pervades a 
 generous mind on beholding or listening to 
 the recital of a noble action ! What lively and 
 mingled emotions are thereby engendered ; creating 
 on the one hand an almost absorbing sympathy, — 
 on the other, an enthusiastic veneration for the 
 high and exalted feeling which prompts the per- 
 formance of a humane or heroic deed ; awaking 
 with all its energy the virtuous spirit of emulation, 
 a spirit burning to perpetuate its fame, not on the 
 frail and perishable testimony of public applause, 
 but in the glowing and grateful remembrance of 
 hearts capable of appreciating that inestimable 
 virtue, which leads its possessor to do good, simply 
 for the sake of benefitting his fellow creatures. 
 Such philanthropic benevolence is, at all times, 
 
 its own reward ! 
 
 — o— 
 
 Youth's Anticipations. — Oh ! the visions, 
 the delightful unsullied visions of youth ! when 
 panting with numberless joyous anticipations, it 
 looks forward with hope to their realization. In 
 that season of fond fancies how does the heart 
 delight to indulge in imaginary prospects of future 
 felicity; rearing as its own criterion, an invisible 
 standard of human excellence ; creating for itself
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 11 
 
 moments of exalted gratification, when its greatest 
 pleasure is to be derived from a resignation of its 
 own good for the advancement of others, in acts 
 of kindness and affection, — in gentle offices and 
 tender sacrifices. Oh ! the exquisite joy which 
 accompanies even the contemplation of a pure and 
 ardent spirit's fairy-formed schemes of bliss ! Too 
 often, alas ! but visionary phantoms of the imagina- 
 tion, born to gild the sunny period of youth, but 
 serving in after years, only to torture the bosom 
 that vainly cherished their too dear illusions. Alas I 
 that the early aspirings of such a heart should be 
 perverted, its pure hopes sullied, by an after 
 intercourse with a cold and selfish world. 
 
 — o— 
 
 The Nothingness of Earthly Jots.— 
 Earthly enjoyments have always an alloy; ever 
 is there some lurking venom, which, mingling 
 with the cup of bliss, poisons all our happiness ; 
 some dark cloud which overshadows the fairest 
 horizon. Alternately sweet and bitter is the draught 
 of life, — no perfection of bliss! — no fulness of joy ! 
 Friendship's ray is dimmed by cruel separation ; 
 death, insatiate death, deprives us of those we love 
 when most dear to us ; the treasure ardently 
 coveted loses its value on possession. Thus im- 
 perfect and uns'Utisfying are all seculai gratifications j
 
 12 SPARE MOMEXTS. 
 
 rely ncit then overmuch on such unstable and vanish- 
 ing acquirements; regard all earthly things as 
 you must one day he deprived of them. Be grateful 
 for the good thou hast, and repine not at the evil. 
 — o— 
 
 Love of Dress. — How insignificant and con- 
 temptihle is an inordinate love of dress ! They who 
 delight to deck in gay colours and fantastic ap- 
 parel the outward and perishable body, care little 
 for the inward adorning of the mind which decayeth 
 not. Still a certain attention even to outward 
 appearance is requisite, for as the butterfly covering 
 denotes a shallow and superficial interior, so like- 
 wise do good order and neatness loudly proclaim 
 the spirit of a meek and quiet nature. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Hope. — Hope is as superior to despair, as courage 
 to cowardice ; virtue to vice. Hope never entirely 
 forsakes the regenerate mind, for though the dark 
 cloud of adversity may for a biief season over- 
 shadow its expectations, yet a firm and steady 
 reliance on Divine Providence, will ere long dissi- 
 pate the gloom, and pious Hope array in its own 
 pure tints the anticipations of a true believer. 
 
 — o— 
 ACalm Conscience.— Life can boast of few real 
 pleasures, its purest, highest source of delight
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 13 
 
 arisef? from the possession of a peaceful conscience, 
 one that can look hack upon the past without fear, 
 to the future with hope ; which regards time pre- 
 sent only as a preparative for eternity; and having 
 continually in view the glories of the invisible 
 world, bends to secular losses and disappointments 
 as conscious of the Omnipotent Hand that guides 
 and directs the affairs of men, from whom we re- 
 ceive good, and shall we not receive evil also? A 
 mind thus happily framed needeth not to resort to 
 the world's evanescent and illusive resources to 
 wean it from itself; no, such a one delights to with- 
 draw from extended circles, to inhale the pure 
 atmosphere of seclusion, to dwell beneath the quiet, 
 hallowed ray, its own peaceful thoughts diffuse 
 
 around. 
 
 — o— 
 
 FoRGrlVENEss. — Who that knows the calm satis- 
 faction enjoyed by a forgiving temper, would ever 
 cherish resentment ? The spirit that forgives in- 
 juries, obtains for itself a recompense the implacable 
 and unbending never know, in the consciousness 
 of having performed its duty; in the habitual serenity 
 such a mind must necessarily possess ; and how 
 frequently is tlie feeling of hatred happily converted 
 into goodwill, by meeting with kindness and affa- 
 bility in those from whom \v«^* might justly have 
 
 V
 
 14 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 txperted l^ut coldness and aversion. How gra- 
 tifying to Le able, by such simple means, to multiply 
 our friends, and conciliate even our enemies. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Hope.— Hope is the balsam of Life ; — the sun 
 that shines upon our earthly path, and opens to 
 our view a prospect of eternity. Hope is the health 
 of the mind, — the festival of the soul ; — it loves in 
 vivid and enchanting colours to array imaginations 
 bright and glowing scenes of happiness to come ; — 
 pleasures to be enjoyed, — anticipations to be rea- 
 lized ; it smilingly promises the full completion of 
 our vfishes, however extravagant they may be. 
 Each day, perchance, may bring some circumstance 
 to convince us of the frailty and deceit of the sup- 
 port we cling to, yet deaf to conviction, — blind to 
 the fallacy of our trust, — still are its illusions 
 sweet, its flatteries dear, and gladly does the hu- 
 man mind turn from the gloom of despair, to 
 welcome " Hope," the brightest guide that Heaven 
 hath sent to gild the destiny of man. 
 
 — o-^ 
 
 Beauty. — Beauty alone, without the charms of 
 virtue and goodness, mind and manners, to recom- 
 mend it, may be compared to a lovely flower, 
 which worn with pleasure for a time, is thrown
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 away with disgust by those who prized it most, 
 when, faded and dimmed, its brilliancy can no longer 
 dazzle the eye, and enslave the fancy. We behold 
 it with the same feelings we would a beautiful sta- 
 tue, — wonder and admiration ; — but in gazing too 
 long the charm dissolves, the spell vanishes, 
 and the eye of the most enthusiastic admirer 
 becomes satiated, and wearied by the sameness and 
 insipidity of the magnet that attracted it, gladly 
 turning from its captivations, to an object per- 
 chance less brilliant, less perfect in outward ap- 
 pearance, but inwardly possessing all those graces 
 and virtues, which a refined and delicate mind 
 alone can boast ; finding upon acquaintance, — al- 
 though the first glance failed to charm, — the beauty 
 of the mind lends an inexpressible charm to every 
 feature ; winning respect and esteem, and attaching 
 the heart by a power more durable, a spell, stronger 
 and more binding, than that, which captivated by 
 external loveliness alone, decays with, or even 
 before, the fleeting and vain shadow it worshipped. 
 
 Personal beauty is by no means despicable when 
 we find it united with more solid and durable 
 qualities — those inestimable possessions that adorn 
 and dignify the human character. Beauty of mind 
 and person combined, is indeed irresistible, and 
 callous must be the heart that can withstand their 
 
 Pi
 
 16 SPARE MOMENTS, 
 
 united power. A mind lovely as the casket that 
 
 enshrines it, is indeed perfection, if it can be found 
 
 on eaith. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Home Our last resting-place, our final home 
 
 is Heaven : but wherever the heart with its 
 thoughts, feelings and affections is centered, there 
 is our earthly home. What cheers the sailor in 
 the darkness of the night, when tossed on the 
 foaming billow ? or the soldier on the battle-field, 
 fainting from fatigue, wearied with exertion ? it is 
 the thought of home ; of the anxious and affec- 
 tionate hearts that await his return with smiles of 
 welcome — tears of joy. Alas ! how mistaken is he 
 who seeks in the broad paths of the world, that 
 happiness which can only be found in the narrow 
 circle of affection ! What sight so brilliant as the 
 eye which is lighted with joy at his approach, or 
 what sound so musical as the voice which love 
 attunes to sweetest harmony ? Home ! there is 
 a magic in the word ! how endeared is its memory, 
 entwined with the heart's purest, holiest associa- 
 tions; the haven of its earthly hopes; for surrounded 
 by the busy turmoil of the world, the spirit turns 
 to it as to a refreshing stream, from whose pellucid 
 source may be won the sweetest, best, and truest 
 poition of temporal happiness.
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 17 
 
 Precious are the joys of home ; nay, its very 
 sorrows are but the means of increasing and draw- 
 ing into sympathetic union the bonds of true 
 affection, whose hallowed and holy ties, form each 
 a connecting link of that bright chain whit-h extends 
 
 beyond the grave. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Solitude. — It is not solitude to be alone ; the 
 heart often feels more lonely in the midst of a 
 crowd, than in the solemn stillness of a deserfs 
 gloom. Silence is sweetly welcome to meditation, 
 when contemplating with awe and gratitude, the 
 wondrous gifts of God, the boundless beauties of 
 nature ; the soul raised towards Heaven longs to 
 burst the fetters that confine it here, and explore 
 the unknown regions of Eternity. The spirit 
 ffuttering with holy joy in its clayey tenement, 
 beholds through the eye of faith, glories unrevealed, 
 and bends in adoration before that Divine Being 
 whose Almighty Hand formed the courflless orbs of 
 night, the Great Creator of unnumbered worlds,, 
 whose power, too vast for human comprehension, 
 too high for human knowledge, yet displays itself 
 in the meanest things of earth, and wafts thy name, 
 () God ! in every breeze. 
 
 If the mind that dwells on such exalted tope?, 
 can descend to ti.'iuporal objects, then hovt dear tc'
 
 IB SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 aflfectionate memory are such moments, moments 
 which leave thought at liherty to wander uncon- 
 trolled through the mazy labyrinths of by-gone 
 scenes ; to trace the fairy visions of the past, and 
 with a fond minuteness, linger long o'erjoys whose 
 vernal bloom hath long been blighted, — but fresh, 
 still fresh, and fair, and dear, to stedfast faith, 
 and unestranged aflfection. 
 
 Can it be solitude to commune with a friend? 
 
 Ah, no ! this the society a warm heart covets : 
 
 oh ! then at such times, in such reveries, may we 
 
 not sweetly dream congenial spirits often meet? 
 
 that at the very time thought has winged its way 
 
 through dividing space, it is arrested on its course, 
 
 by that of some well-beloved, and distant friend? 
 
 Such the joys of Solitude ! oh ! solitude hath charms 
 
 the gay, the careless and light-hearted reck not of, 
 
 for worse than a mockery is the power which 
 
 chains the body in a crowd, the tongue in vain 
 
 conversation, while the heart, the imagination is 
 
 far, far away. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Love. — Love can sweeten the coarsest viands, 
 and render palatable the most humble food; it is 
 the wealth of the heart, and he who is rich in the 
 smiles of affection need not envy the proudest mo- 
 narch ; his empire is established on a surer foun-
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 19 
 
 dation than the voice of the multitude ; of his 
 treasure the treachery of the world can never 
 bereave him ; the breath of slander serves but to 
 fan into a purer flame the fire of love. Let love 
 then be the beacon to guide the wanderer home, 
 the ray that illumines the domestic hearth, and the 
 trials of life will lose half their bitterness, — its ar- 
 rows be blunted; for though storms and tempests 
 may assail him, tenderness and sympathy will 
 disarm them of their fury, and scatter sweetest 
 flowers over the rough and rugged path of life. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Genics. — So peculiarly is the gifted mind en- 
 dowed, that it creates ideal beauty : its world is 
 calm, pure, and bright ; but alas ! with this keen 
 perception of the beautiful is also implanted an 
 unconquerable distaste for the ordinary things of 
 this life ; its wayward passions and rugged paths 
 afi"right the dreamer, and the pure spirit of Genius 
 longs to be away, realizing its visionary hopes, 
 and treading the trackless paths of its native 
 
 sphere. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Self Denial. — I cannot conceive there can be 
 
 any merit attached to that individual, who shunning 
 
 the world and its ways, lives purely and uprightly 
 
 because its pursuits please him not, and its
 
 20 SPARR MOMENTS. 
 
 pleasures fail to charm ; like the rest of mankiml 
 his aim is selfish ; he seeks happiness, thouj^h with 
 a much hetter prospect of reward for his pains, 
 than the ambitious aspirant, tlie gay trifior ; or, 
 the busy, scheming, plodding worldling. — The 
 magnanimity of living in the world, yet above its 
 too powerful and enticing allurements lies in doing 
 so from conscientious motives, in a resignation not 
 of what we do NOT love, but what we really and 
 truly regard ; from a conviction that the unres- 
 trained indulgence of our inclinations, though it 
 may aflford a temporary gratification, will ulti- 
 mately lead to results detrimental to our everlasting 
 peace : such self-denial is, indeed, meritorious. 
 
 Happiness. — There is happiness, which, like 
 real griefj is silent ; expressed neither in loud and 
 noisy mirth, nor in extravagant gestures, but felt, 
 deeply felt, in the inmost bosom, whose heart 
 throbbing with gratitude to the Great Author of its 
 bliss, fail's not even in the first moments of over- 
 whelming delight, when visible and temporal objects 
 would alone engage the attention of an ordinary 
 mind, to oflfer incense on that altar which burneth 
 in secret; whose vapour ascending through sur- 
 rounding mist, reacheth even to the presence of 
 that Divine and Beneficent Being, from whom 
 cometh " every good and perfect gift."
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 21 
 
 Woman's Devotedness. — How deeply do they 
 err who affirm the beauty of woman to be her 
 highest attribute ! If such were the case, how 
 worthless would she be, when time, sorrow or sick- 
 ness, had deprived her of its bloom. Let such an 
 one behold her in the various relations of life — in 
 the performance of her social duties, in the most 
 becoming, though limited sphere of home, where 
 she must ever shine to greatest advantage ; there 
 she labours to promote the happiness of others, in 
 the gay crowd she seeks her own. Behold her as 
 she anxiously watches the feverish and restless 
 slumbers of a suffering dear one ; what solicitude is 
 depicted on her countenance, how noiseless are 
 her movements, scarce does she breathe, lest the 
 slightest noise should mar the perturbed repose of 
 the loved object of her care. With what tender 
 anxiety does she administer the prescribed medicine, 
 while her heart offers on high a prayer that its 
 virtues, through Heaven's blessing, may restore 
 the invalid. To her eye, a look will suffice to tell 
 the want, which affection gratifies ere the lip can 
 utter its request; her grief breaks not forth in 
 lamentations, spends not itself in tears, and though 
 anguish, deep, unutterable, is the inmate of her 
 bosom, it is perceptible only in the meek and 
 expressive look of intense anxiety with which her
 
 22 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 sweet, pale face is invested ; she would not by a 
 display of her own suffering, increase that of her 
 charge. Reckless of self, she heeds not danger, 
 courts not repose, hut with unwearied watchfulness 
 continues at her post though her life he the sacrifice ; 
 the most devoted of all devoted beings ! 
 — o— 
 
 The Re-Union of the Redeemed. — 
 Concerning the preservation of our identity in 
 another world ; so sweet, so consoling is the idea 
 that we shall know, and he known, even as in this, 
 the mind would not willingly part from it. The 
 anticipation of a re-union of kindred spirits freed 
 from all the " ills which flesh is heir to," from all the 
 cares and troubles that chequer our mortal pilgrim- 
 age, and deprive us of the enjoyment of that perfect 
 happiness which can only be obtained in Heaven ; 
 enables us to bear with patience and resignation, 
 sorrow and sickness, and cheers us on our way to 
 the dark and narrow tomb. In favour of this be- 
 lief, we have in the parable of Dives and Lazarus, 
 their and Abraham's mutual recognition. Also, 
 in the Transfiguration of our Lord, 3Ioses and 
 Elias appeared in their original state ; it is sup- 
 ported too by pious and learned men of all ages, 
 not only of the past, but also the present en 
 lightened one. We cannot indeed tell, this remains
 
 SPAKE MOMENTS, 23 
 
 a mystery we would vainly seek to unravel, 
 how, or in what manner this is to be eflfected, for 
 we read, "in a moment we shall be changed," and 
 "as we have borne the image of the earthy, so 
 also we shall bear the image of the Heavenly." — 
 Fruitless would be our attempts to seek to fathom 
 the secret and unrevealed purposes, of the Omnis- 
 cient and All-wise Disposer of events. Let us, 
 then, endeavour to rest content with the limited 
 knowledge afforded us, and bow with reverence 
 and humility to His pleasure, placing our whole 
 hope of happiness, temporal and eternal, on that 
 rock which cannot be moved, — the everlasting 
 " Rock of Ages." 
 
 How delightful, how transporting the reflection, 
 to friends separated by the ever recurring, and 
 untoward events of this mortal life, that their 
 friendship begun here, perhaps in sorrow, will be 
 perpetuated in a joyful hereafter ; that their misery 
 in separation, will be but for a few years which 
 will quickly pass away, but their felicity in after- 
 meeting will remain through the endless ages of 
 eternity, in that lilessed abode, where tears will 
 Ije wiped from all eyes, and sin and sorrow cannot 
 enter. 
 
 Let the earthly mourner then continue patient 
 (n well doing, looking forward with humble hope
 
 24 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 to that day when no longer seeing through a glass 
 darkly, all the brightness of the Glory of God shall 
 be revealed ; and all that now appears to our 
 darkened sight, dim and impenetrable, shall vanish 
 as the morning mist, and become, through the 
 tender mercies of our God, to our spiritualized and 
 incorporeal sense, unobscured and clear as the 
 noon-day. 
 
 What a bliss-fraught anticipation to those, who, 
 in this wilderness of thorns and briars, have de- 
 lighted to hold sweet converse together ! who, 
 animated by one hope, have cemented their bond 
 of union by the closest and most enduring tie ; who 
 see through faith in their Redeemer, the realization 
 of all their anxious hopes and expectations, in the 
 existence of that perfect and immutable state of 
 being where in an union with all that constituted 
 their bliss on earth, they may, purified from its 
 dross, cleansed from its defilements, appear before 
 the throne of the Omnipotent, and join the host of 
 Heaven, in worship thanksgiving and praise to 
 Him, "that sitteth on the throne, and to the Lamb 
 
 for ever." 
 
 -o- 
 
 AuTUMN. — The season is dreary; all nature 
 looks gloomy and desolate ; the grass retains not 
 its summer freshness ; flowers, the late beautiful
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 25 
 
 flowers are drooping, withering, all their beauty 
 and brilliancy gone, — soon will they pass from the 
 Tiew and be forgotten. The sky is lowering, a 
 dense mist pervades the atmosphere, a mist the 
 bright rays of the sun cannot disperse, its bright- 
 ness is hid from our view ; — yellow leaves thickly 
 strew our path, which seem in their blighted and 
 fallen state to be silently lamenting the sad change 
 they have experienced, from beauty to blight, from 
 life to death ; speaking forcibly to the hearts of the 
 young — " Be not vain of your charms fair daughters 
 of earth, for though your brow outvie the radiant 
 lily, your cheek wear the bloom of the rose, 
 though your eyes be sparkling as the lustrous gems 
 that encircle the diadem of an Eastern princess, 
 though matchless be your attractions, set not too 
 high a value upon them, for soon, alas ! will the 
 cold chilling breath of Autumn despoil your fascina- 
 tions, and take from you the light, the loveliness 
 of youth."— Never do I see the pale, pensive leaves 
 of autumn thickly scattered on the ground, or hear 
 the melancholy winds sighing around them, but it 
 reminds me of the bereaved living mourning over 
 the graves of departed dear ones. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Religion.— Religion is the source of all good. 
 All the real happiness we can enjoy has its origin
 
 'Jti srAUr; M (IMF. NTS. 
 
 in true, genuine piety : — the mind that possesses 
 it, hiis a resource in sorrow, a comfort in affliction ; 
 it calms the tempestuous sea of Life, and smooths 
 the thorny-bed of Death ; it endears with a more 
 than earthly power those to whom we are hound 
 by the tie of nature or affection, their beloved idea 
 is in every hope — every aspiration — accompanying 
 us in our prayers to the footstool of divine grace, 
 and sharing our imaginative views of the holy and 
 unspeakable joys of eternity. 
 
 Piety teaches us not only our duty to GoD, but 
 te mankind, to ourselves, universal love, in which 
 is comprised our wliole duty to man, for what we 
 love we can never injure; in our own breasts it 
 implants a true and just appreciation and practice 
 of all virtue. Without religion, the mind of man 
 is incapable of the pure enjoyment of a single 
 pleasure;— he revels not in "Hope," — is blind to 
 '• Faith," — knows not " Charity." Gross are his 
 joys, sensual his gratifications ; his mind is as a 
 dark and barren waste, uncheered by the sun's re- 
 viving beams, unwatered by the kindly deWs of 
 
 Heaven. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Disappointments. — Why should we grieve 
 and vex ourselves at the trivial disappointments, 
 and tritling vexations of this life? Were all ouf
 
 SPARE MO.MEXTS. 21 
 
 hopes founded in reality, all our wishes grutifie<l, 
 
 this world would become too attractive ; we should 
 
 cling to it with too much tenacity, and never 
 
 wish to leave it; therefore it is our GoD in wisduju 
 
 withholds from us what we mostly wish for, that 
 
 our inability to obtain the desired object, may teach 
 
 us our own insufficiency, and lead us to a firmer 
 
 reliance ou His power; so, that by loosing the chain 
 
 that hinds us to the things of earth, we may more 
 
 anxiously seek His favour, and purified by sorrow, 
 
 be more fit to a])pear before HiM in " the Day of 
 
 Grace." 
 
 — o— 
 
 Memorials. — With what a pleasing sadness, 
 what a melancholy pleasure does affection in after 
 years greet each memorial, however slight, that 
 awakens the remembrance of the long fleeted, but 
 never to be forgotten past. As we gaze on the 
 gift, the hand that proffered it seems again with 
 kindly fe<*ling to press our own, — the eye again 
 beams on us with affection, — every feature becomes 
 palpable to the view ; the deep tones of the voice 
 vibrate in our ears, and awaken in our hearts, 
 thoughts that may awhile have slumbered, but can 
 never die. — Pleasing associations, tender recollec- 
 tions, busily crowd around, till saddened by the 
 retrospect we turn from its delusions with a sigh,
 
 28 SPARE MOMENTS. 
 
 a teai of regret, that aught so pure, so beautiful, 
 
 so far removed from guile, so nearly allied to 
 
 Heaven as the bright dreams of youth, should so 
 
 quickly pass away. 
 
 — o — 
 
 The Fbailty of Life. — Existence is a type 
 of all things most frail ; we compare it to a flower, 
 a shadow, a sunbeam. It is even as a small 
 speck on the wide ocean, — as a light cloud which 
 flits rapidly across the sky at eventide; we gaze 
 upon them, they are gone ! We calculate upon 
 life, health, strength, and lo I the fiat is gone 
 forth, and in a moment they flee, and we become 
 as clods of the valley, — a heap of mouldering dust ! 
 
 — o-^ 
 Sympathy Invaluable.— In the season of 
 sickness, in the hour of anguish, how much more 
 than all the efforts of a Physician, can an expression 
 of commiseration — a glance of sympathy — or a 
 kindly pressure of the hand, convey comfort to the 
 sufferer. It is not the nauseous draught, or bitter 
 pill, apathetically administered at stated periods, 
 that can alone soothe the agonies of expiring nature ; 
 but the smoothing of a pillow for the weary head, 
 the wiping the perspiration from the pallid brow, 
 or moistening the parched lips with even a drop of 
 cold water, — for these things the grateful heart 
 shall bless you in the hour of Death.
 
 SPARE MOMENTS. 29 
 
 Piety — The heart where true piety reigns, 
 where it is the mainspring which actuates and 
 impels every action will seldom err : it is the foun- 
 dation of every virtue, and wherever we find it in 
 genuine purity, we may be certain of the real 
 worth of its possessor. A truly religious man will 
 discharge faithfully all the duties of life. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Virtue. — How doth virtue disarm of their 
 sting, the otherwise deadly arrows of calumny. 
 The virtuous mind though it may deplore and 
 lament the malice of its enemies, can still smile 
 at the wicked arts, and malevolent intentions of 
 those, who, possessing no merit themselves, would 
 seek to drag to their own level the purity they 
 envy, without desiring to emulate. 
 
 — o— 
 
 Happiness True happiness exists not in the 
 
 noise and tumult of a crowded city, — dwells not in 
 the pomp and splendour of a court : often does a 
 jewelled vest conceal an aching heart, — and an 
 ermined robe enwrap a troubled spirit. In the 
 more quiet and secluded walks of life is happiness 
 mostly to be found, the calm inmate of a peaceful 
 conscience, the true companion of a virtuous heart. 
 Humility and meekness will go farther towards 
 obtaining it, thaji the haughty and high look of
 
 30 SPAKE MOMENTS. 
 
 the proud. It is a treasure too valuable for wealth 
 to purchase, yet is it hestowed on the lowly m^ 
 habitant of a cottage. 
 
 — o— 
 Friendship. — " I will never leave thee, nor 
 forsake thee ; ''' what a sweet assurance, what a 
 blessed promise ; how efficacious in calming the 
 troubled fears, and chasing the pearly drops from 
 the eyes of the desolate in heart> the bereaved in 
 spirit, who, mourning over the faithlessness of an 
 earthly friend, and deploring in bitter grief and 
 despair, its own loneliness in the deprivation, hears 
 itself thus addressed, thus encouraged, in the 
 inspired Language of Scripture, by Him who 
 standeth fast for ever, and will be to all His faith- 
 ful followers, " a shadow from the heat, a refuge 
 from the storm." 
 
 Thou mourner for departed joys, joys which fled 
 with the treachery of thy friend, dear to thee as the 
 apple of thine eye, cherished as the loved com- 
 panion of thy pilgrimage through this vale of tears, 
 I will not tell thee, unworthy though he be, to banish 
 his remembrance from thy heart ; to drown in obli- 
 vion past happiness, or seek in the gay and busy 
 world, a new, and perhaps faithtuUer friend ; such 
 words are but mockery to a troubled spirit, idle and 
 useless, only wounding the heart they care not to
 
 «PARF >io>re>:TS. 31 
 
 heal; taunting a« the colJ work!, which may seem 
 to heed thy sorrow, but, passing onward remembers 
 it no more. Vainly do we seek to obliterate the 
 memory of what we have once loved ; neither time, 
 change, nor circumstance can efface it ; for as a 
 mother loves with devotion the child she has nur- 
 tured and tended in infancy, so does a firm mind 
 retain in after years its early predilections, and 
 fling with unchanging faith to its former feelings 
 and affections, long will they be even reverentially 
 cherished ; — then would I say to the drooping, let 
 thy regret be tempered with moderation, thy grief 
 chastened by hope, let not utter despair encompass 
 thee, thou hast lost an earthly friend, but " Faith" 
 will lead thee to trust in a Heavenly one: thou art 
 stricken but not forsaken ; thy God will be with thee 
 if thou resist not His gracious invitation, "Come 
 unto me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, 
 and I will give you rest;" whom He loveth, He 
 chasteneth ; if therefore, thou confidest in Him 
 who careth for thee, and with a meek heart, and 
 lowly mind, earnestly seek in the day of affliction 
 Divine aid, then wilt thou find rest unto thy soul, 
 and be filled with that peace which passeth all 
 understanding. 
 
 !•• I ^M s .
 
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