^j:?i30nvsoi^ "^/^a^AiNd-iwv^ ^ * •'.v^ ^, "^ommws^ ^okHm %ojnvD-jov ;;OFCAIIFO% ^OFCAIIFO/?^ aWEUNIVER%. ^lOS-AN Cfc o ^VOSAN o ^MEUNIVERSZ/v f ^lOS-ANCElfx^ CO > ^HIBRARYQc. ^U\m %OJI1VDJO^ ^^WEUfJIVERi-/^ ^OFCALIFO/?^ ^^.OFCALI •i'ilJDNV-SOl^ %il3AIN[l-3WV ^^Aavaaill^"^ ^OMW sM-LlBRARYO^ -^^^lllBRARYQc .^WEUNIVERS/A vvlOSANi ^(i/OJiiYD-jo^ '%0jiiv3jo^ o ^OFCALIF0% ^« ^. n ^&AbV{ian-^s^ ..5.\^t i5 '^^ -f*^ >< CO ..\WEUNIVERVa. ft: o .VO^ %a; s s/ >- < CO ^WE•UNIVERS'// u ^. .inT.AurFirr, CO 5 V, ■ -v\J JJ I ' -^lUBRARYQ^ <^U! ^(!/0JnV3JO'^' -n ^OF-CAIIFO/?;^ ^.OF-CALIFnpj. ^ 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. 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, 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 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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