UC-NRLF 
 
\ 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UN, /ERSITY OF I 
 
 CALIFORNIA J 
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 v 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 
 L^i^^ 
 
POEMS. 
 
 THOMAS EDWARDS HANKINSON, M. A. 
 
 LATE OF 
 
 CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 
 AND MINISTER OF ST. MATTHEW'S CHAPEL, DENMARK HILL. 
 
 EDITED BY HIS BROTHERS. 
 
 LONDON: ., 
 
 J. HATCHARD AND SON, 187, PICCADILLY; 
 
 AND J. DEIGHTON AND SONS, CAMBRIDGE. 
 MDCCCXLIV. 
 
LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY G. J. PALMER, SAVOY STREET, STRAND. 
 
TO THE 
 
 MASTER AND FELLOWS 
 
 OF 
 
 CORPUS CHRISTI COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 
 
 BY A MEMBER OF THEIR COLLEGE, 
 
 WHO, 
 FOR SEVERAL SUCCESSIVE YEARS, OBTAINED THE 
 
 SEATONIAN PRIZE, 
 
 ARE 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED 
 
 BY THEIR 
 VERY OBEDIENT AND HUMBLE SERVANTS, 
 
 THE EDITORS. 
 
 029 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DAVID PLAYING THE HARP BEFORE SAUL. (Seatonian 
 
 Prize Poem, 1831.) l 
 
 THE PLAGUE STAYED. (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1832.) - 27 
 
 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1833.) - 41 
 
 JACOB. (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1834.) - 99 
 
 ISHMAEL. (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1835.) - 125 
 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. (Written for the Seatonian 
 
 Prize Poem, 1836.) - - 151 
 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 
 
 (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1838.) 181 
 
 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1840.) 225 
 
 THE CALL OP ABRAHAM. (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1841.) - 271 
 
 THE CROSS PLANTED UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 
 
 . (Seatonian Prize Poem, 1842.) - 311 
 
VI 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 To his Mother on her birthday - 351 
 
 On Memory - - 354 
 
 From a Brother to a Sister on her birthday - 357 
 
 Storm on Scawfell - - 359 
 
 The Druid's Lament. (Written for the Chancellor's Medal.) - 363 
 
 My lonely Lyre - - 383 
 
 Latin Epigram and translation - 388 
 
 Fancy - - 390 
 
 Friendship - 393 
 
 Mathematics - - 395 
 
 Written on the top of Snowdon - 397 
 
 To W. C , with Scott's " Life of Napoleon " - - 398 
 
 Parody on " The Burial of Sir John Moore " - 402 
 
 To a Honeysuckle - - 405 
 
 Pleasures of the visible world - 407 
 
 To a young lady, with a*speedwell - 410 
 
 To an early Friend on her twenty- first birthday - 413 
 
 A portrait - 418 
 
 The summit of the great Gavel - 419 
 
 On a Friend buried in Hendon church-yard - 423 
 
 Christmas in Ireland, a fragment - 424 
 
 Lines written on the Righi - - 428 
 
 Execution of a murderer - - - - 430 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 HYMNS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Who shall ascend to the holy place - - - 436 
 
 We are a young and happy crew - 440 
 
 Mighty God, may we address Thee ? - 443 
 
 Our Father, if indeed thou art - - 447 
 
 Come, see the place where Jesus lies - _ 443 
 
 Let thy Spirit, Lord, descending .. 450 
 
DAVID 
 
 PLAYING THE HAEP BEFOEE SAUL. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PRIZE 
 IN THE TEAR 1831. 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 "THE REV. THOMAS SEATON, M.A., late Fellow of Clare Hall, 
 bequeathed to the University the rents of his Kislingbury estate, now 
 producing clear 40 per annum, to be given yearly to that Master of 
 Arts who shall write the best English Poem on a sacred subject. The 
 Vice-Chancellor, the Master of Clare Hall, and the Greek Professor 
 (who are the disposers of this premium) determine the subject, which 
 is delivered out in January, and the Poem is to be sent to the Vice- 
 Chancellor on or before the 29th of September following. The Poem 
 is to be printed, and the expense deducted out of the product of the 
 estate : the remainder is given as a reward to the composer." 
 
Cambridge, January, 1831. 
 
 The Examiners gave Notice, that, should any Poem appear to them 
 to possess distinguished merit, a premium of 100 would be adjudged. 
 
 The above premium was awarded to the REV. T. E. HANKINSON, 
 M.A., of Corpus Christi College. 
 
He waked his noblest numbers, to control 
 The tide and tempest of the maniac's soul ; 
 Through many a maze of melody they flew, 
 They rose like incense, they distilled like dew ; 
 Poured through the sufferer's breast delicious balm, 
 And soothed remembrance till remorse grew calm, 
 Till Cain forsook the solitary wild, 
 Led by the minstrel like a weaned child. 
 
 The lyre of Jubal, with divinest art, 
 
 Repelled the daemon, and revived his heart. 
 
 Thus song, the breath of heaven, had power to bind 
 
 In chains of harmony the mightiest mind ; 
 
 Thus music's empire in the soul began ; 
 
 The first-born poet ruled the first-born man. 
 
 MONTGOMERY, 
 " World before the Flood," VI. 
 
DAVID 
 
 PLAYING THE HAKP BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 " THEY talk of Madness Madness ! would it were ! 
 
 For Madness is unconsciousness ; and then 
 The spirit falls asleep, it recks not where 
 
 The maniac's fetter and the maniac's den : 
 
 Dreaming itself the crowned denizen 
 Of its own gorgeous palace, idly glad 
 
 Amid the pity or the scorn of men, 
 Careless alike of fair, foul, good or bad, 
 And laughing at them all, I would that I were mad !" 
 
6 DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 "But that I am not : like the fiends in Hell, 
 I writhe with anguish ; but,, like them, alas, 
 
 I can remember and reflect too well : 
 
 My thoughts are no wild whirl, no cumbered mass 
 Of non-existent phantoms : what I was 
 
 I know., and what I am ; but others deem 
 
 My reason wrecked and perished : let it pass ! 
 
 Yet would I give a monarch's diadem 
 To be, in very sooth, the brain-struck thing I seem." 
 
 " Yes I did leave my God ! and He hath left 
 
 My spirit to itself; to me the sun 
 Of the great world of soul is set : I drift 
 
 Amid the howling gloom, the deep and dun 
 
 Darkness, that may be felt. I start and run, 
 As if from sounds of anguish ; vain to flee 
 
 From mine own spirit's wail ! Ah ruined one ! 
 The seer spake sooth ; all fatal though it be, 
 ' Thou 1 didst forsake thy God and God abandons thee. 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 "I 2 stood on Cartnel once, as day's bright king 
 Was sinking: Oh most musical stilmese reigned, 
 
 As proudly he descended, carpeting 
 
 The western waves with glory, ere he deigned 
 To set his foot upon them ; swift he gained 
 
 His hourne, and what a change ! I left the brow 
 All dark ; and the great sea, like monster chained, 
 
 Heaved in its bellowing blackness from below. 
 Oh God, I understand the ominous emblem now !" 
 
 " Yet one there is, who calls himself my friend ; 
 
 And looks into my face with large wild eyes, 
 Unearthly eyes, and 3 God, he says, doth send 
 
 Him as my guide : when midnight veils the skies 
 
 Those large wild eyes meet mine ; and in them lies 
 A soul-o'erpowering spell : I love him not, 
 
 Albeit I cannot hate strange sympathies 
 Have bound us, sympathies of dreariest thought, 
 Where the mind shudders o'er the forms it has begot." 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 "His beautiful eyes ! they ill beseem the flash, 
 That blasts, like lightning, in its sheer descent ; 
 
 Tears might have trembled on their long dark lash, 
 A seraph's tears, whom God's high will had sent, 
 Of wrath the all- unwilling instrument ; 
 
 Or seraph-rapture might have glistened there, 
 When forth on messages of love he went, 
 
 To snatch the thorn-wreath from the brow of care, 
 Or bring to waiting hope the promised meed of prayer." 
 
 " Oh, what was that, of which the wreck he wears 
 Is still so sadly beautiful ? He fell 
 
 Below his happy, holy, bright compeers, 
 Because the haughty spirit mote not dwell 
 With a superior essence I could tell 
 
 A tale, not all unlike for what are we 
 We mortals, who mistrust repine rebel 
 
 But demons of an humbler pedigree, 
 Lifting an arm of dust to combat Deity ?" 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 Sad musings these ! but who was he, whose breast 
 Bred them in loneliness, in silence nursed ? 
 
 Say, who was he ? Of 4 goodly forms the best, 
 High soul and noble bearing ; for whom erst 
 The general roar of acclamation burst, 
 
 Hailing the Lord's anointed, Israel's king, 
 Of all her kings the stateliest and the first, 
 
 To whom all eyes looked up a lofty thing, 
 By nature formed to claim a nation's worshipping. 
 
 Aye he, whose Godlike tone and graceful port 
 Wrote king upon his forehead, more than all 
 
 The flimsy fopperies of a gaudy court, 
 The purple robe and jewelled coronal: 
 He, 5 freedom's champion when, by Jabesh' wall, 
 
 He set his foot on Ammon's haughty neck, 
 Or 6 hurled, commissioned by the prophet- call, 
 
 The delegated bolt of wrath and wreck 
 Upon thy hapless sons, devoted Amalec ! 
 
10 DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 But he was changed ; and long long hours would spend, 
 
 Sitting in rapt and melancholy mood, 
 And hold strange converse with some viewless friend : 
 
 So said he ; and his courtiers trembling stood, 
 
 As in a spirit's presence, while the blood 
 Froze in their cheeks, but ne'er were they allowed 
 
 To catch the unearthly voice : they only viewed 
 Their king's wild fit, now mournful and now proud, 
 In tears like chidden child, or laughing long and loud. 
 
 All cures were tried : Philosophy talked long 
 Of lofty reason's self- controlling power: 
 
 He frowned, but spake not : Friendship's silver tongue 
 Poured mild persuasion on his calmer hour : 
 He wept alas ! it was a bootless shower, 
 
 As ever slaked the desert : Priests would call 
 On heaven for aid : but then his brow did lower 
 
 With treble gloom. " Peace ! Heaven is good to all ; 
 To all," he sighed, " but one : God hears no prayer for Saul." 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 1 1 
 
 At length one spake of music, and he told 
 How, wandering late in sorrow's vigil pale, 
 
 Where Bethlehem's 7 towers, in outline dark and bold, 
 Becrest the heights that close her narrow vale, 
 He heard wild harp -tones, borne along the gale, 
 
 Melting in cadences so soft and slow, 
 It seemed the very air grew musical, 
 
 To wail his suffering ; and he bowed him low, 
 And hid his face, and wept : but wept away his woe. 
 
 'Twas but a shepherd-boy, whose simple song 
 Stole on the hush of midnight's deep repose, 
 
 What time, reclined his fleecy charge among, 
 
 He watched the heavens, till day -break should unclose 
 Their gates of amethyst. How oft the foes, 
 
 That baffle Keason, own the mild control 
 
 Of simple spells, inanimate Nature throws, 
 
 The voiceless quiet of the starry pole, 
 Or sounds, that boast no speech, yet sweetly soothe the soul ! 
 
12 DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 They sent, and sought him out, the shepherd-hoy, 
 Who chanted to the hills his lonely strain, 
 
 In youth's simplicity of grief or joy ; 
 And, when that fit returned, and heart and brain 
 Keeled in the spasm of their delirious pain, 
 
 They bade him wake the music of his shell. 
 Then scanned he the daemoniac's face, as fain 
 
 To explore its meaning ; 'twas a page, where Hell 
 Had written darker things than one like him might spell. 
 
 And yet he gazed unblanched, his innocent eyes 
 Fixed on those bloodshot orbs, that iron brow ; 
 
 Till, in its own despite, with mere surprise, 
 It half unbent its sternness ; e'en as though 
 A Seraph, in his walks of love below, 
 
 Confronted and rebuked the Evil one. 
 Oh there is power in the unclouded glow 
 
 Of virtue and of innocence alone 
 To cope with Satan's self, and bid his fiends begone ! 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 13 
 
 " Who 8 or what art thou ?" cried the king, " and why 
 Hast left thy rosy friends and joyous play, 
 
 To gaze on that thou know'st not ? Hence ! mine eye 
 Will scorch thy leaves, fair sapling! Hence away !" 
 No answer made the youth, but straight did lay 
 
 His hand upon the chords, and touched a low, 
 A deep and solemn note, like that the ray 
 
 Of infant sunlight might have loved to throw 
 From Memnon's fabled lyre, so that you scarce could know 
 
 Aught palpable had brushed the trembling string ; 
 
 It spake with such bland utterance, on and on 
 Warbling spontaneously, like charmed thing, 
 
 Long after that, which woke it first, was gone. 
 
 Saul started ; for that gentleness of tone 
 Struck with such contrast on his soul ; he raised 
 
 His haggard face, and on the shepherd's son 
 Stedfastly, silently and sadly gazed, 
 Aroused, but not displeased, much soothed and more amazed 
 
14 DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 A moment was the minstrel's earnest glance 
 
 Turned unto Heaven, and Heaven hath seldom thrown 
 
 Its glory on a lovelier countenance 
 
 Of rosy boyhood ; then, low bending down, 
 While his thick curls chastened with tinge of brown 
 
 His cheek's vermilion, 9 seemed he to caress 
 And soothe his lyre to aid, as it had known 
 
 Its gentle master's love, and might express 
 Its own, in answering flow of musical tenderness. 
 
 " 1 10 bid thee speak to me, my lyre, 
 
 My lonely lyre, to me ! 
 Awake thee to my touch of fire, 
 
 And set thy music free ! 
 To the whirlwind's roar on the desert mountain, 
 
 To the zephyr's whisper among the trees, 
 To the still small voice of the pebbly fountain, 
 
 To the sullen swell of the stormy seas, 
 To the hush of night, to the blaze of noon, 
 Thou hast a voice and a soul in tune." 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 15 
 
 (< Notes in silver softness blending, 
 
 Dew-like on the ear descending, 
 Or startling, as though the lightning's wings 
 Had dashed in thunder across thy strings." 
 
 " Every 11 season and every scene, 
 
 Bleak and barren, or gay and green, 
 
 The cloud, on sorrow's breast that lies, 
 
 The light, that laughs in pleasure's eyes, 
 
 The records of the olden days, 
 
 The breath of prayer, the hymn of praise, 
 
 Whatever thy gentle aid may call, 
 
 Thou hast a voice and a soul for all." 
 
 " My lyre, I need, this dreary hour, 
 
 All thy softness and all thy power ; 
 
 To rend from the daemon's hands his prey, 
 
 And lead the lost one back to day, 
 
 One who has sold his spirit high 
 
 To Hell's most drear idolatry :" 
 
JO DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 " Not 12 to him, whose fabled sway 
 Awes the flame-breathed steeds of day, 
 Or, when clouds invest his form, 
 Shouts amid the rising storm ; 
 Not to her, who, legends tell, 
 Flings the witchery of her spell 
 Over Gods and mortals both, 
 All-prevailing 13 Astaroth ; 
 Not to such this being proud 
 Hath his blind submission vowed, 
 But stoops his soul and bows his knees 
 Unto gods more stern than these, 
 Worshipping, with groan arid sigh, 
 At the shrine of misery." 
 
 " Oh 14 yes ! to him each charm hath lost its hue,- 
 The earth her beauty and the sky his blue ; 
 While fiend-like memory, studying to annoy, 
 Points with lean finger to each perished joy ; 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 17 
 
 Hinting, with scornful smile on bitter brow, 
 
 " Thou once wert happy why not happy now ?" 
 
 For him the heart, that erst had poured a tide 
 
 Full, fresh and free of passion and of pride, 
 
 Shuts down into itself its silent woes, 
 
 And locks its feelings in a stern repose, 
 
 And drains that last sad solace from despair, 
 
 Where nought remains to hope, there's nought to fear, 
 
 Accepts no comfort, asks for no redress, 
 
 Hath nought to wish, and nothing to confess. 
 
 Yet slight, at times, the signs of outward grief, 
 
 That some might deem the sufferer found relief ; 
 
 Trust not such pause the master- work of pride, 
 
 That feels most keenly what it strives to hide : 
 
 The storm of wreck may pass, but leaves a scene 
 
 Frightfully tranquil sullenly serene : 
 
 Perhaps e'en more, and (as, to mock its fall, 
 
 The gay flower flaunts upon the shattered wall) 
 
 So the crushed heart, that joy may never know, 
 
 Oft hangs her ensign on the lip and brow, 
 
 c 
 
18 DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 Till governed features, taught at length to lie, 
 Grow skilful in such fond hypocrisy : 
 Yet one, methinks, with aught of skill to trace 
 The mind's dark language on the written face, 
 Will scarce mistake for pleasure's tranquil rose 
 The brow that flushes, and the cheek that glows ; 
 Or deem untutored and untrained by art 
 The smile, that writhes above a broken heart. 
 
 But track tho wretch afar from human ken, 
 And, would'st thou read his spirit read it then ! 
 Mark the breast struggling with its prisoned sigh,- 
 The pale lid drooping o'er the heavy eye, 
 The cheek late deeply dyed with feeling's hue, 
 Now worn, and sunk, and passionless, and blue ; 
 Then pause and tremble, ere thy footsteps dare 
 Intrude upon the orgies of despair. 
 Most hapless worshipper ! no ray for him, 
 However distant and however dim, 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 19 
 
 Dawns on futurity ; hope bleeding lies, 
 To that fell power the heart's last sacrifice ; 
 While the poor votary seeks no boon to gain 
 Save the sad privilege of fostering pain." 
 
 " Oh cease ! my lyre, Oh cease ! thy wailings drear 
 Fright thy poor minstrel's inexperienced ear : 
 Or teach him, if thy power avail thee aught 
 'Gainst woe undreamed of, till thyself had taught, 
 Teach him where soothing balm may yet be found, 
 To staunch that bosom's suicidal wound, 
 To snatch the spirit from its own fell power, 
 To calm its wildest, cheer its saddest hour." 
 
 " Ha ! the dull dense clouds are breaking, 
 Slowly slowly slowly into light away ! 
 
 And my mental sense is waking, 
 Dazzled by a brighter ray, 
 
 Than e'er, the east with glory streaking, 
 Glanced from the opening eyes of day " 
 
20 DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 " Is 15 it come ? that glimpse of Heaven, 
 For which my soul so long hath striven, 
 Diving for lore obscure and high 
 In the darkling depths of prophecy ? 
 A vaunt 16 thee, fiend ! the woman's seed shall tread 
 On the fierce terrors of the serpent's head." 
 
 " I know him by the light he giveth ; - 
 I know that my Redeemer liveth ; 
 He shall stand upon the earth, 
 Godlike in his mortal birth ; 
 In Him the sons of sorrow shall find rest, 
 And all the nations of the world be blest." 
 
 " Yes, 17 I know him from afar 
 Israel's sceptre Jacob's star 
 For, like him on Zophim's brow, 
 
 Him of the gifted eye, 
 I shall see him, but not now, 
 
 Behold him, but not nigh." 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 21 
 
 " Be it so ! on other eyes 
 Let the promised One arise, 
 While mine own are curtained deep 
 In their last and soundest sleep : 
 Enough for me, what Hope sublime 
 
 Can to her humble child allow ; 
 Enough ! anticipating time, 
 
 She feels him and adores him now." 
 
 " Wake then, my lyre ! give all thy passion scope ! 
 Thy theme is peace thine inspiration hope. 
 Say 18 to the slaves of woe, ' Keturn, and prove 
 A father's kindness in a God of love ; 
 Eeturn to Him, whose mild and happy reign 
 Ye fled, to serve your deemon-god of pain, 
 Him, 1 ^ who shall taste the griefs he comes to heal, 
 And learn to comfort as he learns to feel ; 
 For you shall seek for you shall burst the grave, 
 A man to sympathize a God to save. 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 Oh cease ye then from misery's bitter wine 
 
 To wring despair's tremendous anodyne ! 
 
 Oh lift your parched and fevered lips above, 
 
 To the full well-spring of eternal love : 
 
 And all may yet be well ; the present, past 
 
 Be flung behind the horizon brighten fast ; 
 
 E'en the dark clouds, that roll their rage away, 
 
 Catch Hope's own rainbow from the breaking day ; 
 
 And life, ere-while so dark and drear and dull, 
 
 Grow calm and fair and bright and beautiful ; 
 
 Or, should earth's dearest, loveliest ties be riven, 
 
 The soul spring nearer to her native Heaven, 
 
 Spurn the cold confines of her clay abode, 
 
 And 20 find life love peace glory all in God. 1 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 23 
 
 The minstrel's song is hushed : but stil] his fingers 
 
 Wander instinctively along the string, 
 Where parting melody yet fondly lingers ; 
 
 Like that, which on the waking sense will ring 
 
 Of one, who in his dreams holds communing 
 With dear familiar beings, 'rapt away 
 
 To Heaven before him on an angel's wing; 
 So sunk the farewell notes of David's lay, 
 Notes for the mind to hoard through many an after day. 
 
 And so it fared with Saul : that minstrel child 
 
 Had led his spirit back to scenes gone by ; 
 When, if he tuned to woe his numbers wild, 
 
 'Twas but to borrow from her sullen sigh 
 
 Contrasted emphasis of extacy ; 
 Thus quiet softly stole o'er heart and brain, 
 
 And happy visions dawned on Fancy's eye, 
 And boyhood's fairy thoughts arose again, 
 Like dreams of buried friends, as lovely and as vain. 
 
 6 
 
DAVID PLAYING BEFORE SAUL. 
 
 Or it might be that prophecy's high tone, 
 
 Breathed from the young enthusiast's ardent breast, 
 
 Woke 21 a long silent echo in his own 
 
 A voice of days to come such erst had blest 
 E'en him with promise of a future rest : 
 
 Howbeit, when paused the song, the monarch seemed 
 Like one from sleep aroused, and all possessed 
 
 With phantasies of bliss, that still he deemed 
 Objects of sight and sense, nor knew that he had dreamed. 
 
 Me lists not to pursue the tale of woe 
 How the dark dsemon came and came again, 
 
 And fled as oft before the genuine glow 
 
 Of piety, that warmed the shepherd's strain. 
 But let not the high moral warn in vain, 
 
 That never word, by heaven-caught genius spoken, 
 Can heal the thunder-stroke of mental pain, 
 
 Leaving of its black wound no dismal token, 
 Till God himself shall bind the heart himself hath broken. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 I 1 Sam. xv. 23. Because thou hast rejected the word of the Lord, 
 he hath also rejected thee from being king. 
 
 3 1 Sam. xv. 12. Saul came to Carmel. 
 
 3 1 Sam. xvi. 14. An evil spirit from the Lord troubled him. 
 
 4 1 Sam. x. 23, 24. When he stood among the people, he was 
 higher than any of the people, from his shoulders and upward : And 
 Samuel said to all the people, " See ye him, whom the Lord hath 
 chosen, that there is none like him among all the people.'' 
 
 3 1 Sam. xi. 111. 
 1 Sam. xv. 19. 
 
 7 Bethlehem is situate upon two opposite heights, divided from each 
 other by a narrow valley, through which a branch of the Eshcol flows. 
 
 8 A slight poetical liberty has been taken here ; the Scripture his- 
 tory implies that David was sent for by Saul's express desire : It may 
 not, however, be altogether inadmissible to suppose that, in the 
 paroxysm of his disorder, this circumstance was forgotten. 
 
 9 1 Sam. xvi. 12. He was ruddy, and withal of a beautiful coun- 
 tenance, and goodly to look to. 
 
 10 The Psalms contain several addresses to the harp, as though it 
 could sympathize with its master's feelings : to this circumstance the 
 structure of the following ode owes its origin. 
 
 II No person, who has read the Psalms, will fail to have observed 
 that David had as keen a sense of the various forms of inanimate Na- 
 ture, as he had of the fluctuating feelings of its animate and reasoning 
 creatures. 
 
 12 Baal the chief deity among the Phoenicians and Canaanites. He 
 
20 NOTES. 
 
 appears to have united the characters of the Jupiter and Apollo of 
 European mythology. CALMET'S Dictionary. 
 
 13 Astaroth or Astarte the Eastern Venus. CALMET'S Dictionary. 
 
 14 Several passages in the book of Job contain very similar ideas to 
 those, which these lines attempt to convey. 
 
 15 The whole book of Psalms affords proof of the study, which its 
 author had bestowed on the then-existent Scriptures. The 119th in 
 particular evinces the delight he experienced in such investigation. 
 
 16 Psalm xci. 13. " Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder:" 
 The verses immediately preceding this were applied by the devil to 
 Christ ; nor did Christ object to such an application. It would be 
 possible to refer to passages in the Psalms, which seem to allude to the 
 other prophecies mentioned. But as no one will deny that a clearer 
 insight into the times of the Messiah was permitted to David than to 
 any of his predecessors, it has been deemed unnecessary to select ci- 
 tations, that may possibly be allusive to bygone predictions. 
 
 17 Numbers xxiv. 17. "I shall see him, but not now I shall be- 
 hold him, but not nigh. There shall come a Star out of Jacob, and 
 a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel." 
 
 18 No part of the Old Testament bears any proportion to the Psalms, 
 in recommending the sufferer, under any circumstances of trial, to God, 
 as the giver of spiritual comfort. 
 
 19 David, as much or more than any of the prophets, dwells upon 
 the sufferings and humiliation of Christ, but he speaks not less dis- 
 tinctly of his resurrection and glorification. 
 
 80 Psalm Ixii. 7. 
 
 al 1 Sam. x. 6 and 10 " The Spirit of God came upon him, and he 
 prophesied." The contrast between this passage and xviii. 10. of the 
 same book is worth observing. 
 
THE PLAGUE STAYED. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PRIZE IN 
 THE YEAR 1832. 
 
I 
 
THE PLAGUE STAYED. 
 
 AND HE STOOD BETWEEN THE DEAD AND THE LIVING 
 AND THE PLAGUE WAS STAYED. 
 
 Numbers xvi. 48. 
 
 HE stood between the living and the dead ! 
 Dead men dead multitudes ! they lay along 
 
 Even as the hlast had struck them hoary head 
 And manly form and features soft and young : 
 Seemed they to heedless glance a pilgrim throng, 
 
 Halting for noontide rest upon the heath, 
 O'erwearied with the morning's travel long ; 
 
 But from the peopled plain there came no breath 
 No stir no voice they slept the long last sleep of death. 
 
30 THE PLAGUE STAYED. 
 
 Yet lurked unquenched the signs of living passion 
 
 On knitted brow, in fixed and glassy eye, 
 Scowling the parted spirit's last expression 
 
 Of wrath or pride, that scorned in death to die ; 
 
 And the lip curled, as its expiring sigh 
 Had burst in curses ; 'twas a fearful sight, 
 
 And strange as fearful ; for no foe was nigh : 
 None saw the uplifted arm, none heard it smite : 
 And yet an host lay felled beneath its shadowy might. 
 
 Yes he who stood beside the scattered dead 
 Had seen the grim destroyer : seen it come 
 
 Even from Jehovah's presence : on it sped 
 
 Travelling in dust and darkness ; and the bloom 
 Withered in Nature's cheek, as if the tomb 
 
 Had breathed upon it, herb and tree and flower 
 Shrivelled and drooped beneath the hot Simoom, 
 
 And all was sad and silent in that hour, 
 The verdure of the field, the music of the bower. 
 
THE PLAGUE STAYED. 31 
 
 He saw it enter the tumultuous camp, 
 
 And strike such sudden stillness, as doth brood 
 
 Over the Northern Ocean, when the cramp 
 Of frost is on its billows. He had sued 
 To Israel's God, before whose shrine he stood 
 
 Strong in the might of innocence alone, 
 Appealing from the rebel multitude : 
 
 The appeal was heard; God had avenged his own ; 
 And there he gazed secure upon his foes o'erthrown. 
 
 He was their Priest; * upon his breast he bare 
 Their names before his God, and morn and even 
 
 Poured forth for them the glowing breath of prayer, 
 Winning down blessings from propitious heaven : 
 But Envy with her serpent arts had striven 
 
 To warp the vulgar mind, that round and round, 
 Like feather upon faction's gale, is driven, 
 
 And now would hurl the mitre to the ground 
 Which erst Jehovah's self on Aaron's brow had bound. 
 
32 THE PLAGUE STAYED. 
 
 Unfaithful multitude ! but where the fool 
 
 E'er dreamed of faithful multitudes, nor knew 
 
 That echo of all lies, the base-horn tool 
 Of all who stoop to use them ? But to few 
 Shewed they such change of their cameleon hue 
 
 As to the brother- chiefs, whose pastoral hand 
 
 Had led them safe their life-long wanderings through, 
 
 To the fair confines of yon flowery land, 
 That ever smiled like Hope across those fields of sand. 
 
 They strove against the delegates of Him 
 
 Who wrapped in clouds to Sinai's summit came, 
 
 Hiding upon the fire-winged Seraphim, 
 
 And the huge mountain's adamantine frame 
 
 Shook while the thunder-clap pronounced His name. 
 
 They strove vain reptiles ! one indignant glance 
 2 Looked them to ashes from that eye of flame, 
 
 One touch of that dread finger from its stance 
 Unfixed the rooted rock, and burst the earthquake's trance. 
 
THE PLAGUE STAYED. 33 
 
 Where then thy taunts, proud Korah ? were they blent 
 
 With that despairing and tumultuous yell, 
 With man's deep groan and woman's shrill lament, 
 
 3 As the earth gaped, and sucked them quick to Hell ? 
 
 Is't not enough ? will folly yet rebel, 
 And call for sterner teaching, and require 
 
 More wrath to scourge the tribes of Israel, 
 And hid the pestilence, with havoc dire, 
 Complete the dreary work of earthquake and of fire ? 
 
 Yes ! still the people murmured ; and it came 
 The daemon of the plague in contrast dread 
 
 With earthquake's rending crash and roar of flame, 
 It came in ghastly stillness ; o er each head 
 It passed unseen unheard and left them dead. 
 
 But wherefore stands the injured Aaron now 
 Gazing upon the wreck before him spread, 
 
 While deep emotion softens o'er his brow 
 Unlike the scowl of wrath, or triumph's conscious glow ? 
 
 p 
 
34 THE PLAGUE STAYED. 
 
 Meekly he stands, his full benevolent eye 
 Pleading with earnest eloquence for those 
 
 Who shrunk affrighted as the blight passed by : 
 
 " Pardon them, Lord," he cries, " forgive my foes, 
 As I forgive them !" from his censer flows 
 
 Unearthly fragrance through the tainted air ; 
 And, as the mingled sacrifice arose, 
 
 The plague was stayed ! stayed in its mid career ! 
 It might not pass the man who crossed its path with prayer. 
 
 Tis a strange history ! but stranger yet 
 
 Stands on the page by heavenly truth imprest, 
 
 Telling of wider mischief that beset 
 The total race of Earth a moral pest, 
 That soiled the fountain of man's guileless breast, 
 
 And reared its death-spot on his glorious brow 
 The brow where God's own image shone confest, 
 
 And crushed and silenced with one ruthless blow 
 The beauty and the bliss that smiled or sang below : 
 
THE PLAGUE STAYED. 35 
 
 And Earth became a desert a dead limb 
 Of the great Universe, that far and wide 
 
 Basked in the smile of God, and poured to Him 
 Of joy and praise a full unebbing tide : 
 Hell laughed from all her caverns, to deride 
 
 The victims of her guile : 4 and none was found 
 To plead the cause of man : he lay and died 
 
 Helpless and hopeless, for the blasted ground 
 Yielded no balm to cure the spirit's mortal wound : 
 
 Till One who on his Father's breast reclined 
 
 In unity of Godhead, combated 
 Singly the fell destroyers of mankind : 
 
 He fought and conquered ! but his robe was red 
 
 With his heart's blood : not vainly was it shed. 
 A world is saved ! her foes are backward driven ! 
 
 He stood between the living and the dead, 
 And stayed the plague : and to the lyre of Heaven 
 Another song is tuned, another chord is given. 
 
 D 2 
 
THE PLAGUE STAYED. 
 
 A world is saved ! but not, alas ! at once 
 Restored to primal beauty, when the song 
 
 That heralded her birth found sweet response 
 Within her children's bosom, and their tongue 
 Echoed it back to Heaven. We muse along 
 
 Her peopled plains, and on the listening ear 
 Woe breathes its wail, amid the giddy throng 
 
 We start to meet the spectral form of care, 
 And peace stands far aloof, and murder's arm is bare. 
 
 Still lurk the baffled daemons fain to win 
 
 Some portion of the prey so late their own ; 
 
 Still prowls abroad the rank disease of sin, 
 Working unseen in breast of hermit lone, 
 Or crushing nations from a tyrant's throne, 
 
 Or maddening red sedition's carnival 
 With shouts of liberty, that binds anon 
 
 Its victim- votaries in an heavier thrall. 
 Sin kills in various guise but kills alike in all. 
 
THE PLAGUE STAYED. 87 
 
 And must this last for ever ? No ! again 
 
 Jehovah's first-born upon earth shall stand 
 Between the multitude that sin hath slain, 
 
 And those himself hath saved His faithful band : 
 
 Again and for eternity His hand 
 Shall part the living from the dead, and high 
 
 The voice of general joy in chorus grand 
 Shall peal its thunder through the echoing sky ; 
 For sin shall smite no more, and death itself shall die. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 Exodus xxviii. 15 21. And thou shalt make the breastplate of 
 judgment with cunning work; after the work of the ephod thou shalt 
 make it ; of gold, of blue, and of purple, and of scarlet, and of fine 
 twined linen, shalt thou make it. Foursquare it shall be being doubled : 
 a span shall be the length thereof, and a span shall be the breadth 
 thereof. And thou shalt set in it settings of stones, even four rows of 
 stones : the first row shall be a sardius, a topaz, and a carbuncle : this 
 shall be the first row. And the second row shall be an emerald, a sap- 
 phire, and a diamond. And the third row a ligure, an agate, and an 
 amethyst. And the fourth row a beryl, and an onyx, and a jasper j 
 they shall be set in gold in their inclosings. And the stones shall be 
 with the names of the children of Israel, twelve, according to their 
 names, like the engravings of a signet ; every one with his name shall 
 they be according to the twelve tribes. 
 
 2 Numbers xvi. 35. And there came out a fire from the LORD, and 
 consumed the two hundred and fifty men that offered incense. 
 
 3 Numbers xvi. 33. They and all that appertained unto them went 
 down alive into the pit, and the earth closed upon them. 
 
 4 Isaiah lix. 16. He saw that there was no man, and wondered that 
 there was no intercessor. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PRIZE IN 
 THE YEAR 1833. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 &e6s. 
 uy/M. . 
 
 EURIP 
 
 PAET I. 
 
 THE VISION. 
 I. 
 
 MIDNIGHT !- the Moon hath climbed the steep, 
 
 And looks o'er Ida's hill ; 
 Tracking in light the mazy sweep 
 
 Of Simoi's' slender rill : 
 And from the mountains to the deep, 
 All fragrant in its dewy sleep, 
 
 The Tread's plain is still ! 
 
44 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPP1. 
 
 The Troad I 1 Time and Change have sped, 
 Her pride and power have vanished, 
 
 Like sunset splendour fleeting ! 
 Nought now is left her but the river 
 That dances on as blythe as ever, 
 And lofty Ida's summits hoar, 
 And the great sea's eternal roar, 
 
 Advancing or retreating, 
 That seems, as on the ear afar, 
 It falls so deep and regular, 
 
 The pulse of Nature beating. 
 
 ii. 
 
 But Time and Change may wreak their worst ! 
 And still, all freshly as at first, 
 The blind old harper's 2 spells of power 
 A glorious and immortal dower 
 
 To yon proud clime belong ! 
 And first must sink dark Ida's hill, 
 Eush upward to its fount the rill, 
 Old Ocean's mighty pulse be still, 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPT. 45 
 
 Ere pilgrim, as he wanders by, 
 Shall slight with cold or careless eye 
 The land of war and song. 
 
 in. 
 
 Not mindless 3 of the lore that erst 
 The visions of his boyhood nursed, 
 Not mindless of the charm that lies 
 In old romantic histories, 
 The charm that, while the minstrel's strain 
 Woke memory of the past again, 
 And breathed wild Scio's rocks among 
 The music of Ionian song, 
 In tranced and mute attention held 
 The hero and the sage of eld, 
 Was he who wandered forth to try 
 The quiet of that midnight sky, 
 
 And mark its planets shine, 
 And the sweet moonlight o'er the sea, 
 That slept beneath so tranquilly, 
 
46 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 It's chain of silver twine, 
 The man whose loved and honoured name 
 May save, if aught can save from shame,- 
 
 This lowly lay of mine. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A warrior he ! but not like those 
 Whose bones along that shore repose ; 
 
 Wild men, 4 whose savage mood 
 Held foremost of their stormy joys 
 The battle of confused noise 
 
 And garments rolled in blood : 
 He fought ! but silently and lone : 
 A viewless shield 5 was o'er him thrown ; 
 A viewless helmet fenced his head ; 
 No blow was struck ! no blood was shed ! 
 
 And yet, in deadly fight, 
 The soldier of the cross prevailed 
 O'er mightier foe than ever quailed 
 
 To mortal skill or might ! 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 47 
 
 V. 
 
 In childhood and in youth the same, 
 Small zest had he for glee or game ; 
 And Pleasure's soft and syren call 
 Passed powerless o'er the mind of Paul. 
 Not that the youthful sage's mind 
 Abjured communion with his kind ; 
 Howe'er he shunned the common crowd, 
 He friendship's sacred claim allowed : 
 But most at midnight's silent hour, 
 When spirits of the dead have power 
 
 Upon the lonely man, 
 And whisper strange and solemn things, 
 And prompt to high imaginings, 
 And the young fancy's wild harp -strings 
 
 With shadowy fingers span, 
 He loved, in converse uncontrolled, 
 To commune with the great of old ; 
 To dream over Isaiah's song, 
 And think that time must bring ere long 
 
 The promised boon of Heaven ; 
 
48 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPT. 
 
 And Judah, then no more forlorn, 
 Hail her Messiah's natal mom, 
 And cry " To us a child is born ! 
 To us a son is given !" 
 
 VI. 
 
 The child was born ! but still the same 
 
 Was Judah's hapless lot : 
 She had disowned her Saviour's claim ; 
 Branded with infamy his name ; 
 And, though 6 unto his own he came, 
 
 His own received him not. 
 Yea, Paul denied him too ! he stood 
 Eager to dip his hands in blood, 
 The blood of that poor friendless few, 
 Who, to their murdered Master true, 
 
 Were proud to share his fate : 
 But Heaven forbade : a voice of fear, 7 
 
 A light than mid- day sun more clear 
 Arrested in its fierce career 
 
 The persecutor's hate : 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 49 
 
 He saw ! he heard ! the truth at once, 
 Borne inwards like the lightning's glance, 
 
 Upon his conscience beamed : 
 And from that hour 8 he held at nought 
 Wealth, fame, and life, and bravely fought 
 The Christian's martyr-fight, and taught 
 
 The faith he once blasphemed. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For this, 9 in cold and nakedness, 
 
 In toil and poverty, 
 In perils in the wilderness, 
 
 In perils in the sea, 
 His faith and courage never failed ; . 
 
 But calm and undismayed 
 He stood where open foes assailed, 
 
 Or falser friends betrayed. 
 Soft Cyprus' sons 10 around him throng, 
 And stay the dance and hush the song, 
 
 To list the truths he taught : 
 
 E 
 
50 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 From him the roving clans and rude 
 Of Yemen's mountain solitude 11 
 
 The lore of life have caught. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 And now from Asia's furthest verge 
 
 He frequent turns his eyes, 
 Where Lemnos' hills from out the surge 
 
 In shadowy masses rise : 
 He saw the sun salute that even 
 
 Those mountains of the west, 
 And leave his mantle bright from heaven 
 
 Upon their swarthy breast : 
 E'en thus, he thought, the Gospel- star 
 Arose in Eastern climes afar ; 
 
 But all, as on it passed, 
 From Tyre to Troy its light confess, 
 Till haply it may stoop to bless 
 
 The western world at last. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 51 
 
 IX. 
 
 Was it the murmur of the wave, 
 
 The whisper of the wind, 
 That thus in solemn language gave 
 
 The musings of his mind ? 
 (t Come o'er and help us !" 'twas a cry 
 
 Deep-breathed and low and faint, 
 A strange and mournful symphony 
 
 Of welcome and complaint ! 
 He turned : a form arrests his sight, 
 The Macedonian kirtle white, 12 
 
 The Grecian brow of gloom, 
 And, pointing to the further shore, 
 In tones more earnest than before, 
 
 It tells its message, " Come !" 
 
 x. 
 
 Pity ! sweet seraph ! whatsoe'er 
 The garb thy gentle form may wear, 
 So tenderly and deeply dear 
 
 E 2 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPP1. 
 
 To this dark world of ours, 
 Whether, of regal wealth possessed, 
 Thy name and sway be widely blest, 
 Or, simply clad in russet vest, 
 
 Thou lend'st thy humbler powers ; 
 Comfort thyself hast proved to speak, 
 Despair's dun tempest-cloud to break, 
 And dew the dry and rigid cheek 
 
 With soul-reviving showers ; 
 But, dear and welcome as thou art 
 To the poor grief-o'erburthened heart, 
 Not half thy loveliness is seen, 
 Till, catching pure devotion s mien, 
 Thou liftest up thy brow serene 
 
 To thy great Sire above ; 
 Bidding the guilty soul draw near, 
 And pour her sorrows in His ear 
 
 Whose chosen name is Love. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPP1. 53 
 
 XI. 
 
 Oh, 'twas a sight which angel-eyes 
 Beheld with all unwont surprise 1 
 And every golden chord was still, 
 And widely an electric thrill 
 
 Through Heaven's bright legions ran ; 
 While Pity from the eternal throne 
 Led down Jehovah's awful Son, 
 And reft away each starry gem 
 That bound creation's diadem, 
 And laid the robe of glory by, 
 And sent essential Deity 
 
 To veil his light in man ! 
 'Tis finished ! Hell hath fought in vain ! 
 Tis finished ! Death himself is slain ! 
 The eternal gates expand again ! 
 Immanuel reascends the skies, 
 Fresh from his dreadful sacrifice ! 
 But Pity caught the parting word, 
 That fell from her ascending Lord : 
 
54 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 She marshals forth his chosen band, 
 
 To tell the triumphs he had won ; 
 
 And bids them speed from land to land 
 The tidings of salvation on. 
 
 XII. 
 
 She raised the phantom form, that stood, 
 And beckoned Paul across the flood ; 
 Her's was the mournful message sent 
 From the dark western continent ; 
 Full well the Apostle know the sign, 
 And hailed with joy the voice divine : 
 He calls his friend ; 13 for one dear breast 
 The glow of kindred zeal confessed. 
 Farewell to Asia ! from their eyes 
 Headland and cliff receding flies ; 
 E'en Ida's summits dimly blue 
 Melt into heaven's aereal hue : 
 And proudly on the vessel fares, 
 As conscious of the freight she bears ; 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 55 
 
 The sunshine laughed upon the sea, 
 The winds sung forth their noisy glee; 
 And Nature's eye and Nature's voice 
 Bade man, her sentient child, rejoice. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Awhile the gallant ship divides 
 The Hellespont's 14 opposing tides, 
 That pours its current dark and strong, 
 Like unreturning time, along ; 
 Then swift she cuts the narrow seas 
 'Twixt Imhros' isle and Chersonese ; 
 And soon beneath the evening skies 
 The Samothracian hills 15 arise : 
 Bests the rough sailor on his oar, 
 And hows him to the sacred shore : 
 Vain homage ! but the eastern gale 
 Is freshening in the swelling sail ; 
 E'en now emerging far a-lee 
 The snowy peaks of Bhodope, 
 
56 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 Believed against the pale grey sky, 
 Have caught the morning's rosy dye ; 
 And seem in giant ranks to stand 
 The heacons of a fairy land : 
 Anon the clearer light displays 
 The -wild and varied coast of Thrace ; 
 Abdera's ancient towers 16 are past, 
 And Nestus, with impetuous haste 
 Bearing amid the salt sea foam 
 The freshness of his mountain home ; 
 While eastward, smiling in repose, 
 Green Thasos 17 like a garden glows. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 But not Abdera's ancient towers, 
 Nor Thasos' trelliced fruit and flowers 
 The ocean-wanderer may detain ; 
 Forward the galley bounds amain ! 
 Timing his stroke to barbarous song, 
 The rower speeds his task along : 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 57 
 
 A shout from shore salutes his ears : 
 At length his port his home appears, 
 Where, looming through the twilight grey, 
 Neapolis 18 o'erlooks the hay ! 
 There are blythe faces in the ship, 
 
 Glad voices on the strand ! 
 And soon warm lip is pressed to lip, 
 
 And eager hand to hand ; 
 The hushand seeks the wife's embrace ; 
 
 And she, with tears of joy, 
 Hath lifted to his father's face 
 
 Their bright and blooming boy. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Two only of that happy crew 
 All friendless from the shore withdrew : 
 They saw the multitude rush by ; 
 They heard their welcome pealing high ; 
 And silently they turned away ; 
 For ah ! it pains the heart 
 
58 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 The general rapture to survey, 
 
 In which it owns no part. 
 With them we quit the joyous throng, 
 To trace their weary path and long, 
 
 While night around them falls ; 
 Until, o'erspent and travel-worn, 
 We hail with them, at peep of morn, 
 Philippi's stately walls. 19 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Here pause we ! for the faltering Muse, 
 Ere further venture she pursues, 
 
 Craves respite and delay : 
 But he, who deigns a patient ear, 
 How sped those pilgrims twain shall hear 
 
 In the succeeding lay. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 59 
 
 PAKT II. 
 
 THE COUNCIL. 
 I. 
 
 BOUND up amidst the thousand ties 
 
 Of man's mysterious sympathies 
 
 Is that strange feeling, that hath birth 
 
 While, gazing on our parent Earth, 
 
 The spirit 20 to itself transfers 
 
 The sunshine or the gloom of hers. 
 
 Who hath not felt the peace that lies 
 
 On fields that smile 'neath summer skies ? 
 
 Who to the eternal hymn of ocean 
 
 Responds not with as pure devotion ? 
 
 Nor drinks a joy of sterner mood 
 
 From rugged hill or pathless wood ? 
 
 Oh Nature, at thy bosom nursed, 
 
 Might I once more thy features see ! 
 And taste the bliss I tasted erst, 
 
60 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 And be as I was wont to be ; 
 And slake my spirit's fever- thirst 
 
 For silence, solitude, and thee ! 
 Might I but quit the sunless town, 
 On mountain -peak or heathery down, 
 By sea or shore, in wood or wold, 
 High converse with thy charms to hold ! 
 
 ii. 
 
 Vain wish ! and haply worse than vain ! 
 Thou mayst not mingle with a strain, 
 That tells of one whose heart was given 
 In single sacrifice to Heaven ; 
 Who felt an inborn glow ilJume 
 Each path of languor and of gloom, 
 And every selfish love resign'd, 
 To speed the welfare of mankind ! 
 His name that consecrates my lay 
 Should chide each murmuring thought away. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 01 
 
 III. 
 
 And yet, methinks, that holy man 
 
 Well pleased Creation's page would scan ; 
 
 And loved 21 in Nature's beauteous face 
 
 Her Maker's lineaments to trace : 
 
 For this he fled the noisy street, 
 
 The balm of evening's breath to greet, 
 
 To sun him in the smile that glowed 
 
 From yonder western sky, 
 And half forget the dark abode 
 
 Of man and misery. 
 
 Soft and sweet are the sounds that then 
 Steal out from copse- wood fold and glen, 
 Those mellow voices that commingle 
 
 With the small brooklet's silver song 
 That, dancing down o'er rock and shingle, 
 
 Carols its happiness along. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But sadly Paul addressed his friend, 
 (( Hear'st thou that vesper-hymn ascend, 
 
62 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 Pealing into the radiant skies 
 
 It's pure and sinless sacrifice ? 
 
 Alas, to miss those strains among 
 
 The accents of the human tongue !" 
 
 " Nay," Silas cried, " e'en now, methought, 
 
 Echoes of gentlest speech I caught ! 
 
 And list again ! more sweet and clear 
 
 They melt upon my listening ear : 
 
 'Tis woman's voice that liquid tone 
 
 An angel might not blush to own, 
 
 Oh that an angel's theme were given 
 
 To notes so harmonized with heaven ! 
 
 But haste we thither ! not in vain 
 
 Is breathed on high that votive strain : 
 
 The heart that owns devotion's power, 
 
 In such a scene, at such an hour, 
 
 Needs but a glimpse of clearer light 
 
 To guide its wandering homage right," 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. C3 
 
 V. 
 
 'Twas a lone spot, 22 that shrine of prayer ! 
 
 Some river-nymph's deserted haunt, 
 Whose sacred springlet, diamond- clear, 
 
 Welled bubbling from its rocky font : 
 And near, all lovely in decay, 
 A little shrine and altar lay : 
 Aye lovely ! though the Grecian maid 
 No more in summer spoils arrayed 
 The light Ionian colonnade, 
 For Nature's wild and simple taste 
 Had well those withering gifts replaced ; 
 Perennial chaplets court the breeze, 
 Festooned along the crumbling frieze, 
 Or, climbing up each shattered shaft, 
 Gaily the purple blossoms laughed, 
 Or from the walls peeped shy between 
 The ivy's everlasting green. 
 
01 ST PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A moment paused the pilgrim-twain 
 Upon the threshold of the fane : 
 A moment, fixed as by a spell, 
 They listened to the choral swell ; 
 And oh, how wakened memory's chords 
 Made answer to those thrilling words ; 
 
 PSALM. 
 
 \ 
 
 STROPHE. 
 
 How lovely 23 is thy dwelling-place, 
 
 O Lord our God ! 
 Our spirit longs and faints to trace 
 
 The courts thy saints have trod. 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 The sparrow and the swallow there 
 
 Have found a nest : 
 Ah, why are we forbid to share 
 
 That holy place of rest ? 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 65 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 The great and holy One 24 on high 
 Inhabiteth eternity, 
 
 Nor needs a human shrine : 
 Yet, Spirit, boundless as thou art, 
 Within the meek and contrite heart 
 
 Thy presence deigns to shine ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 'Twere long to tell what greeting passed, 
 And how the twilight hours fled fast, 
 And still, with eager eye and ear, 
 That simple band pressed round to hear ; 
 
 And how the Apostle wove 
 With whatsoe'er in woman's breast 
 Wakes deep and tender interest 
 
 His wondrous tale of love. 
 He told how in that awful hour 
 Of Satan's brief permitted power, 
 
 F 
 
00 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPP1. 
 
 When Vengeance on her victim's head 
 Her sevenfold vials sternly shed, 
 When foes the hand of menace shook, 
 And friends betrayed, denied, forsook, 
 Then woman, meekly constant still, 
 Followed to Calvary's fatal hill ; 
 Yes, followed where the boldest failed, 
 
 Unmoved by threat or sneer ; 
 For faithful woman's love prevailed 
 
 O'er helpless woman's fear. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In sorrow 25 and in peril tried, 
 She was the last to quit his side ; 
 And, when the bloody scene was closed, 
 And low in dust her friend reposed, 
 The first was she to seek his tomb, 
 With balm of Araby's perfume : 
 She fondly thought that honoured form 
 To rescue from the loathsome worm ; 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHlLIPPI. 67 
 
 And little dreamed, how death in vain 
 Had cast his adamantine chain 
 O'er one, who came his might to quell 
 Even in his gloomiest citadel : 
 And high reward her zeal hath won : 
 " Woman !" she started at the tone : 
 " Mary !" she turned beheld adored 
 'Twas he to life and her restored ! 
 
 IX. 
 
 Thus on the pure and patient mind, 
 Quiet in joy, in grief resigned, 
 Fraught with rich blessing from above, 
 Beams the benignest smile of love ; 
 E'en as the lake's unruffled breast 
 Makes pillow for the sunbeam's rest, 
 While waves, in wild disorder driven, 
 Koll dark beneath the clearest heaven. 
 Oh woman ! though thy fragile form 
 Bows like the willow to the storm, 
 
 F 2 
 
G8 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 Ill -suited in unequal strife 
 
 To brave the ruder scenes of life ; 
 
 Yet, if the power of grace divine 
 
 Find in thy lowly heart a shrine, 
 
 Then, in thy very weakness strong, 
 
 Thou winn'st thy noiseless course along ; 
 
 Weaving thy influence with the ties 
 
 Of sweet domestic charities. 
 
 And softening haughtier spirits down 
 
 By happy contact with thine own. 
 
 x. 
 
 Yes ! all were blest, whose every sense 
 Drank in the heaven- taught eloquence : 
 For, ah, my feeble strain doth wrong 
 To speech so liquid and so strong, 
 Bearing the willing soul along 
 
 Upon its powerful stream ; 
 Yet one an holier bliss confessed, 
 One, to whose meek and placid breast 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPn. 09 
 
 No human eloquence addressed 
 
 The great Apostle's theme. 
 God opened Lydia's heart 26 to feel 
 And bow beneath His own appeal ; 
 He cleared the mists of doubt away, 
 Poured in fair Truth's celestial day, 
 And all the trembling soul subdued 
 To hope, and love, and gratitude. 
 Not idle were the tears that glistened, 
 As silently she sat and listened, 
 Such streams as fancy bids to flow 
 At tale of visionary woe, 
 They issued from the warm heart's spring, 
 Affection's earnest offering, 
 And told her speechless thanks to Heaven 
 For mercy found and sin forgiven. 
 
 XI. 
 
 When all their homeward way had ta'en, 
 She lingered in the lonely fane ; 
 
70 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 And humbly urged her kind request, 
 " Oh, were it worthy 27 of such guest, 
 Deign, holy pilgrims, deign to share 
 My quiet roof and homely fare !" 
 And there they sojourned, pleased awhile 
 To bask in friendship's grateful smile : 
 How sweet at morn or evening's close 
 The mutual prayer and praise arose ! 
 What thoughts of heavenly peace had birth 
 In converse round that happy hearth ! 
 And when on each devoted head 
 The pure baptismal stream was shed, 
 The Eternal Spirit winged its flight, 
 To seal and bless the solemn rite ! 
 In sooth that home was hallowed ground ; 
 Hope spread her rainbow wings around, 
 And cheered with ever- smiling face 
 The adopted family of grace. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPJ. 71 
 
 XII. 
 
 Alas, too soon we turn our sight 
 From visions of such calm delight! 
 Our notes of rapture, faint and low, 
 Sink in prophetic strains of woe : 
 The earthquake groans from under 
 
 Old Pindus' rocky breast ; 
 Chimari's brow of thunder 28 
 More awful frowns invest ; 
 Along the lightning's path, 
 Upon the whirlwind's wing 
 Gigantic forms of wrath 
 
 Abroad are journeying ; 
 Where, untrod by mortal feet, 
 
 Do dona's forests stand, 
 Grim in midnight council meet 
 
 The spirits of the land. 
 Full many a bold or wily plan 
 Was spread before that stern divan, 
 To quench the orient ray of light 
 That dawned upon their realms of night ; 
 
72 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 Till he of Delphi's crested hill, 
 
 Who long had swayed his votaries' will, 
 
 By weaving deep the specious lie 
 
 In oracle and prophecy, 
 
 Awhile the general wrath controlled, 
 
 And thus his dubious counsel told. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Dread potentates, the hour is come 
 When we must battle for our home : 
 Time was, that we might journey forth 
 From east to west, from south to north, 
 And still, where'er our course we steered, 
 Some symbol of our sway appeared : 
 Alike by savage and by sage, 
 By men of every land and age, 
 With various rite, 'neath various name, 
 Our influence was confessed the same. 
 The Indian knelt by Gunga's fountains, 29 
 The Persian on his sacred mountains, 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 73 
 
 Greece reared to us her gorgeous dome,- 
 To us hath bowed almighty Home 
 And the cold Celt, in northern climes, 
 To us would consecrate his crimes. 
 Alas ! those palmy days are past ! 
 Truth reasserts her throne at last ! 
 Truth, we so stoutly held at bay, 
 Pours in, at last, the unwelcome day ! 
 No more in narrow bounds confined 
 She struggles with the recreant mind, 
 But sends her heralds to proclaim 
 At once her triumph and our shame !" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " We 've proved how vain is open force 
 To check the bright invader's course ; 
 How vain to strive with him whose eye 
 O'erlooks the scrolls of Destiny ; 39 
 Henceforth be humbler schemes our care, 
 The power, we may not crush, to share. 
 
74 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 Thither, where first on Grecian ground 
 The rival God a shrine hath found, 
 Thither myself will speed, to try 
 Each aid my ancient wiles supply ; 
 Veiling in flattering speech my wrath, 
 Myself will dog the Apostle's path ; 
 And borrow woman's form and tone, 
 The messenger of heaven 31 to own. 
 Thus enmity, in smiles concealed, 
 Shall gain the power it seems to yield ;- 
 Our empire thus confirmed will stand, 
 And Jove and Jesus share the land." 
 
 xv. 
 
 " But if for ah, I know too well 
 That man hath power to counter- spell 
 The hest laid stratagems of Hell, 
 If, with unwonted terror shook, 
 I quail before his stern rebuke, 
 Cast we the specious mask aside, 
 And fairly be the battle tried ! 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHIL1PPI. 75 
 
 Thou too 32 must prosper our design, 
 
 Pale Genius of the sunless mine ! 
 
 Tis thine to fire the callous priest,, 
 
 Of every thrall, but thine, released, 
 
 Who smiles when simpler mortals pray ; 
 
 He serves the Gods but serves for pay, 
 
 And, heedless if they bless or ban, 
 
 Makes traffic of the soul of man : 
 
 But, when, should hostile Truth prevail, 
 
 His sordid hope of gain shall fail, 
 
 How loudly will he prate of zeal, 
 
 And feign, what he hath ceased to feel ! 
 
 How will he spur the vulgar throng 
 
 To deeds of violence and wrong ; 
 
 And hurl to exile or to death 
 
 The teachers of the rebel faith !" 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Never ! upon your bootless craft 
 
 The Dweller of the heavens 33 hath laughed 
 
7(1 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 Hath laughed to scorn your feeble rage, 
 That dares such frantic strife to wage ! 
 What ? will ye share the throne with Him, 
 When cherubim and seraphim 
 
 With veiled eyes adore him ? 
 And think ye, haughty Gnomes, to shed 
 Destruction on the meanest head 
 Of mortal man, when God hath spread 
 
 His sheltering pinions o'er him ? 
 Neyer ! Eternal truth is plight 
 To shield her injured servants' right ; 
 Their faith's foundation 34 standeth sure, 
 Long as those characters endure, 
 Sealed deep upon the living stone, 
 " God knows, and will avenge his own.'* 
 As yon pure planet walks on high 
 In glory through the midnight sky, 
 The Christian holds his way serene, 
 Smiling on life's beclouded scene, 
 And making very darkness bright 
 With beautiful though borrowed light. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 77 
 
 PAET III. 
 
 THE PRISON. 
 I. 
 
 KNOW ye the hushed and awful still, 
 While the storm gathers on the hill ; 
 As if that cloud's portentous gloom 
 Were pregnant with Creation's doom ; 
 And Nature watched in mute suspense 
 The fiat of Omnipotence ?' 
 There is no whisper on the breeze, 
 
 No ripple on the lake ; 
 E'en the slight tremble of the trees 
 
 No murmur seems to make. 
 It comes ! 'tis past ! and hill and plain 
 Laugh into threefold light again ! 
 The lake hath caught a clearer blue ; 
 The meadow wears a greener hue ; 
 
78 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 And the glad earth and glowing skies 
 Are rife with thousand melodies. 
 
 n. 
 
 E'en thus, methinks, will rapture borrow 
 A brightness from the hour of sorrow ; 
 E'en thus our God at times will shroud 
 His smiles behind the darkest cloud ; 
 Awhile, all trembling and aghast, 
 We gaze ; but, lo, the storm is past ! 
 Away the murky vapours roll ; 
 Sunshine breaks in upon the soul ! 
 Faith bids each lingering doubt be gone, 
 Hope lays her liveliest colours on, 
 And Joy, upon her eagle-wings, 
 Mounts through the golden sky, and sings. 
 
 in. 
 
 Seek we Philippi's towers once more : 
 The weary strife of day is o'er ; 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHTLIPPI. 79 
 
 And on the landscape and the town 
 The summer night sinks softly down ; 
 But still the tread of hurried feet 
 Resounds along the echoing street ; 
 And here and there with anxious face, 
 In vacant porch or market-place, 
 Dark groups are met to interchange 
 Conjecture vague and rumour strange. 
 " I saw," cried one, "that stranger Jew ! 
 His figure to its height he drew, 
 And turning on the sacred maid, 
 ' Cease, lying spirit, cease !' he said, 
 ' I charge thee, in the name of One 
 ' Thou know'st and must obey, begone !' 
 What name, in sooth, I cannot tell : 
 Howbeit, with shrill unearthly yell, 
 It fled before the o'ermastering spell : 
 And ne'er, methinks, again will bless 
 Apollo's virgin prophetess." 
 
80 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Then rose the crowd's discordant din ; 
 
 And Phoebus' priests rushed wildly in ; 
 
 The stranger and his friend they caught, 
 
 And to the hall of council brought : 
 
 There, amid insult, 35 blows and blood, 
 
 Shorn of their power the captives stood, 
 
 Yet bravely stood ; I see e'en now 
 
 Their lofty, calm, undaunted brow : 
 
 I felt resistless pity rise, 
 
 To mark that host of enemies 
 
 Bearing the friendless men along 
 
 With whoop, and shout, and barbarous song, 
 
 To nerve them for to-morrow's doom 
 
 In yonder dungeon's inmost gloom." 
 
 Then question rose, if Hell or Heaven 
 
 Such deep mysterious spell had given, 
 
 A spell the very gods obeyed, 
 
 Yet powerless in its owner's aid. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPP1. 81 
 
 V. 
 
 So deemed they. Be it ours the while 
 To seek in that sepulchral pile 
 
 The heroes of our lay ! 
 Alas, their hapless plight expressed 
 How well their guardian's 36 savage breast 
 Responded to the stern behest, 
 
 Which gave them to his sway. 
 Chained to the damp and slimy floor, 
 That reeked and reddened with their gore, 
 In solitude and pain they wore 
 
 The dreary night away. 
 Aye, there the helpless body lies, 
 A bound and bleeding sacrifice ! 
 But baffled malice vainly flings 
 Its fetter on the spirit's wings : 
 
 High music floats along 37 
 Those sullen regions of despair, 
 And their poor tenants start to hear, 
 
 G 
 
82 ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 
 
 Mellowed in cadence sweet and clear, 
 The unusual burst of song. 
 
 SONG. 
 STROPHE I. 
 
 What change of time, 38 or place, or state 
 The spirit's love shall separate 
 
 From Christ her Lord ? 
 Shall tribulation, or distress, 
 Violence, want, or nakedness, 
 Peril, or sword ? 
 
 STROPHE II. 
 
 Nay ! through Him 39 our soul adores, 
 We are more than conquerors ! 
 Nay ! not all the powers that dwell 
 Or in Heaven, or Earth, or Hell, 
 Not height above, nor depth beneath, 
 Things present, future, life or death 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 83 
 
 Shall one single link remove 
 From the golden chain of love ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE I. 
 
 Therefore let our praise arise ! 
 Therefore let our souls despise 
 
 Disgrace and pain ! 
 
 Our foes their deadly aim have missed ! 
 They know not how to live is Christ, 40 
 
 To die is gain ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE II. 
 
 Yet, Lord, whene'er our race is run, 
 Our battle fought, our victory won, 
 Whene'er, in yonder realms of light, 
 We wear the martyr's rohes of white, 
 Oh, still thy gracious smile bestow 
 Upon thy struggling church below ! 
 Thy future heralds deign to bless 
 With larger powers and more success, 
 
 G 2 
 
84 ST. PAUL AT PH1LIPPI. 
 
 Till Truth and Peace with mighty span 
 Embrace the family of man ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 Was it Echo's mimic tone 
 
 Answered in that sullen groan ? 
 
 Tremulous at first and low, 
 
 Hark ! it louder seems to grow 
 
 With continuous rolling sound, 
 
 Like thunder muttered from the ground 
 
 It comes ! 41 it comes ! the dungeon reels 
 
 Beneath the earthquake's fiery wheels ! 
 
 Back recoils with grating jar 
 
 Massy bolt and serried bar ! 
 
 Free each wondering prisoner stands, 
 
 Lifting to heaven his chainless hands : 
 
 Free ! they reck not how or why, 
 
 Though death should come with liberty. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 85 
 
 VII. 
 
 But one the man of ruthless brow, 
 
 Grim tyrant of those realms of woe, 
 
 Had heard the fierce invader hurst 
 
 The portals of his den accurst : 
 
 A moment * 2 and his desperate hand 
 
 Hath grasped the suicidal brand ! 
 
 Was it his guardian angel spoke, 
 
 And midway stayed the deadly stroke ? 
 
 " Forbear," it cried, " rash man, forbear ! 
 
 Behold, thy prisoners all are here !" 
 
 Then trembling sprang he in ; for well 
 
 He knew the solitary cell, 
 
 Whence issued forth that warning call, 
 
 He knew the deep -toned voice of Paul. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 You might have deemed that iron mail 
 For refuge to his victims ran ; 
 For pale and anxious, " Sirs," cried he. 
 (f O whither can a wretch like me 
 
86 ST. PAUL AT PH1LIPPI. 
 
 For pardon and for safety flee ?" 
 " Flee ?" answered Paul, a radiant smile 
 Lighting his toil- worn cheek the while, 
 " Flee to the God who burst our chain, 
 Flee to the Man for sinners slain ; 
 His power, His love can safety give 
 To thee to all. Believe and live." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Spirit ! who from primaeval night 
 Didst call forth beauty into light ; 
 Not with a burst of awful splendor, 
 But smile of sunshine warm and tender ; 
 Hushing the waters wildly hurled 
 Above the rude chaotic world, 
 And beaming happiness and grace 
 On waking Nature's infant face, 
 Spirit ! e'en thus the waves that roll 
 O'er the dark chaos of the soul 
 Shrink from thy radiant glance away ; 
 And, shining 43 into perfect day, 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 87 
 
 Tinted with Heaven's ambrosial dyes, 
 Behold a new-born world arise ! 
 
 x. 
 
 Can that be he that scowled of late, 
 
 The Cerberus of the dungeon gate ? 
 
 Whose heart, from human pity shielded, 
 
 Was harsher than the chains he wielded ? 
 
 How changed the savage now ! his eye 
 
 Is softened into sympathy : 
 
 He raised those sufferers from the ground, 
 
 And washed and soothed 44 each festering wound , 
 
 Then, as he meekly bent to hear 
 
 His guests of heavenly mercy tell, 
 Down his rough cheek the unbidden tear, 
 
 Large, warm, and bright, as childhood's, fell. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The morn is up ! her peaceful eyes 
 Peep coyly through the latticed skies : 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 But fled not with returning liglit 
 
 The memory of that awful night ; 
 
 Early the trembling council* 5 sent 
 
 To the dark tower of punishment, 
 
 Giving strict charge without delay 
 
 To speed those ill-starred men away : 
 
 " Nay," Paul replied, 46 with generous sense 
 
 Of falsely injured innocence, 
 
 " Heedless of Home's protecting name, 
 
 They yielded us unheard to shame : 
 
 E'en let themselves as suppliants come, 
 
 And publicly reverse their doom !" 
 
 XII. 
 
 They came ; 47 it irks the gentle Muse 
 To linger o'er each fond excuse, 
 Smooth words from pride by terror wrung 
 Faltering on the reluctant tongue : 
 With languid eye and drooping plume 
 She turns her from those walls of gloom : 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 89 
 
 Away ! her ear hath caught a tone 
 
 With brighter themes in unison : 
 
 Yes, from Lydia's 48 lowly dwelling 
 Strains of solemn joy are swelling ! 
 Strains that mock the aid of art, 
 The boundings of the happy heart. 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 Christians ! hail the blissful sight, 
 
 Brethren to our arms returning ! 
 Sorrow may endure 49 the night, 
 
 But joy cometh in the morning! 
 Faith hath triumphed in the fight : 
 
 Prayer hath not been poured in vain : 
 Christians ! let us here unite 
 
 Hand and heart and voice again ! 
 Seize the moments bright and fleeting 
 
 Seize the joy too quickly gone ! 
 Scarce we taste the bliss of meeting 
 
 Ere the parting pang draws on. 
 
ST. PAUL AT PHILIPPI. 
 
 Soon will Ocean's waves divide us, 
 
 Many a plain and many a hill ; 
 But the soul, whate'er betide us, 
 
 Meets its kindred spirit still : 
 Meets, in mutual praise and prayer, 
 
 Friendship's chain to clasp anew : 
 Christians ! stay the bitter tear ; 
 
 Parting hath no pang for you ! 
 And, when life's brief course is done, 
 
 With the glorious Church above, 
 Body, spirit, all in one, 
 
 We shall taste the Heaven of love. 
 Gladly then to God we yield ye, 
 
 Safe beneath His wings to dwell : 
 He shall comfort, guide and shield ye , 
 
 Christian brethren, fare-ye-well ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 " They came down to Troas," probably to Alexandria Troas, a 
 city a little to the south of the site of ancient Troy. Acts xvi. 8. 
 
 2 Homer. 
 
 3 The speeches and writings of St. Paul afford evidence that he had, 
 at some period of his life, studied the Greek Classics. He lived at a 
 time when Greek literature was at its zenith in the Roman world. 
 
 4 " Every battle of the warrior is with confused noise and garments 
 rolled in blood; but this shall be with burning and fuel of fire." 
 Isaiah ix. 5. 
 
 5 " Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to 
 quench all the fiery darts of the wicked : And take the helmet of sal- 
 vation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." 
 Eph. vi. 16, 17. 
 
 6 " He came unto his own, and his own received him not.'' John 
 i. 11. 
 
 7 " At mid-day, O king, I saw in the way a light from heaven, 
 above the brightness of the sun, shining round about me and them 
 that journeyed with me : and, when we were all fallen to the earth, 
 I heard a voice speaking unto me, and saying in the Hebrew tongue, 
 Saul ! Saul ! why persecutest thou me ?" Acts xxvi. 13. 
 
92 NOTES. 
 
 8 " But what things were gain to me, those I counted loss for 
 Christ. Yea, doubtless, and I count all things but loss for the ex- 
 cellency of the knowledge of Christ Jesus my Lord : for whom I 
 have suffered the loss of all things, &c." Philip, iii. 7, 8. 
 
 9 (t In perils in the wilderness, in perils in the sea, in perils among 
 false brethren ; in weariness and painfulness, in watchings often, in 
 hunger and thirst, in fastings often, in cold and nakedness." 2 Cor. 
 xi. 26, 27. 
 
 10 Acts xiii. 412. 
 
 11 Yemen : Arabia. " I went into Arabia, and returned again into 
 Damascus." Gal. i. 17. This was Paul's first Apostolical journey, 
 before he was introduced to the Apostles at Jerusalem. 
 
 12 The dress of the Macedonians is not very unlike that of the 
 Scottish Highlanders. The kilt, instead of being woven in various 
 colours, is white. 
 
 13 It is thought, with much probability, that Luke, and perhaps 
 Timothy, accompanied the Apostle on his first European journey. 
 As, however, their names never occur in the narrative, the Author felt 
 himself at liberty to suppose that Silas was the only companion of St. 
 Paul. 
 
 14 The stream of the Hellespont bears always from the Propontis 
 to the ^Egaean, and is perceptible as far down as Tenedos. 
 
 15 There is a high hill in Samothrace, visible from the plain of Troy. 
 CLARKE'S Travels. 
 
 It was likewise held in high repute for sanctity, because there were 
 celebrated the great mysteries of the Cabeiri. fans Se ra Ka&eip<ai> upyta 
 ^te/iUTjTCU, TO. ^a/MjOprjiKcs eirireAeotxrt, Trdpa\a@6vTes irapa FleAao'^cDj', OVTOS wz/Tjp 
 oI5e TO Ac'?*- HEROD, ii. 51. 
 
NOTES. 93 
 
 13 MCT& TV NeVow Troro/ibj/ Trpbs avaro\as, "A87jpa ir6\is, 
 ;, 8y of TOU Aio^Sous fa-Trot eQayov. STRABON. Geograph. 
 
 It was a colony of Teians : and, according to Diodor. Siculus. 
 tvrous SwaTwrdTcus ovffav r6re TWV eVl pos/ojs. Not a vestige of this city 
 now remains. 
 
 17 Virgil, Georg. ii. 91, mentions the Thasian vines as of excellent 
 quality. Herod, vi. 46, gives an account of the gold mines that were 
 then worked inThasos; and which, together with those of SKUTTT^ "TATJ 
 on the Continent, were a great source of wealth to its inhabitants. It 
 has now quarries of excellent marble, not inferior to the Parian. 
 
 18 Now called Cavallo. 
 
 19 " The chief city of that part of Macedonia, and a colony." Acts 
 xvi. 12. 
 
 20 Crabbe, in " The Lover's Journey,'' espouses the converse of 
 this idea, viz. that Nature borrows from the mind of the Spectator its 
 brightness or its gloom. Crabbe is not wrong : it is difficult to de- 
 termine which is the more dependent, the appearance of Nature upon 
 the tone of the mind, or the tone of the mind upon the appearance of 
 Nature. 
 
 21 The perfections of invisible Deity are beheld through the medium 
 of His works, viz. His eternal power and Godhead. Rom. i. 20. 
 
 e went QUt Q ^ c ^.y ^ a r j ver g ^ e ^ej-e p ra yer was wont 
 to be made." Acts xvi. 13. It is supposed that, though there was 
 no regular synagogue at Philippi, there was a Trpoo-eux^? frequented by a 
 few women who were proselytes of the gate. POOL'S Synops Crit. 
 
 23 " How amiable are thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts ! My soul 
 longeth, yea, even fainteth for the courts of the Lord ...... Yea, the 
 
 sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest, for herself, where 
 
94 NOTES. 
 
 she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, 
 and my God !" Ps. Ixxxiv. 13. 
 
 24 " Thus saith the high and lofty One that inhabiteth eternity, 
 whose name is Holy ; I dwell in the high and holy place ; with him 
 also that is of an humble and a contrite spirit," &c. Isaiah Ivii. 15. 
 
 25 In the days of Christ himself, as has often been remarked, they 
 were the last who left his cross, they were the first who sought his 
 tomb. The sketch of St. Paul's address to the women has been bor- 
 rowed from the Rev. H. Blunt's Lecture on that part of the Apos- 
 tle's history. Part I. Lect. ix. 
 
 26 " Whose heart the Lord opened, that she attended unto the 
 things which were spoken of Paul." Acts xvi. 14. 
 
 27 A slight liberty has been taken with the history, in making the 
 invitation to Paul and Silas from Lydia precede her baptism. 
 
 26 The Ceraunian mountains. 
 " The Ganges. 
 
 30 The Gods of Heathen mythology confessed subjection to the will 
 of a supreme being, whom they called Fate. This is curiously illus- 
 trated in the Pythian response to Croesus, after his defeat by Cyrus. 
 
 T^J/ TrcirpwjueVrjy p.oipr)v aSiWra &m cbro^tryeeti' Kai OeS>.. . .irpoQviJ.eofJi.4vov 
 Be A.olfd) onus kv Kara TOVS TraTSas rovs Kpoiffov yevoiro rb 2ap5tW irdOos, 
 teal p)) tear 1 aivbi> Kpolvov, owe o16v re tyevfro trapayayiiv p.oipas' ticrov 5e 
 frf8uK<u> uvrat TJVIKTUTO, teal ty a P' l(TaT 6 ot '- HEROD, i, 91. 
 
 31 " A certain damsel, possessed with a spirit of divination, met us ; 
 which brought her masters much gain by soothsaying : The same 
 followed Paul and us, and cried, saying, These men are the servants 
 of the most high God, which shew unto us the way of salvation." 
 Acts xvi. 16, 17. 
 
NOTES. 95 
 
 32 " And when her masters saw that the hope of their gains was gone, 
 they caught Paul and Silas/' &c. Acts xvi. 19. 
 
 33 " He that sitteth in the Heavens shall laugh : the Lord shall 
 
 have them in derision." Ps. ii. 4. 
 
 i 
 
 34 " Nevertheless the foundation of God standeth sure, having this 
 seal, The Lord knoweth them that are his." 2 Tim. ii. 19. 
 
 3i " And the multitude rose up together against them ; and the ma- 
 gistrates rent off their clothes, and commanded to beat them: And, 
 when they had laid many stripes upon them, they cast them into 
 prison." Acts xvi. 22. 
 
 36 "Charging the jailor to keep them safely: Who, having received 
 such a charge, thrust them into the inner prison, and made their feet 
 fast in the stocks/' Acts xvi. 23, 24. 
 
 37 " And at midnight, Paul and Silas prayed and sang praises unto 
 God, and the prisoners heard them." Acts xvi. 25. 
 
 as "Who shall separate us from the love of Christ ? Shall tribula- 
 tion, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or 
 sword ?" Rom. viii. 35. 
 
 29 " Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors, through 
 Him that loved us. For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, 
 nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor 
 things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall 
 be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus 
 our Lord." Rom. viii. 37 39. 
 
 40 " For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain." Philip, i. 21. 
 
 41 "And suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foun- 
 dations of the prison were shaken ; and immediately all the doors were 
 opened, and every one's bands were loosed." Acts xvi. 26. 
 
06 NOTES. 
 
 42 " And the keeper of the prison awaking out of his sleep, and see- 
 ing the prison doors open, he drew out his sword, and would have 
 killed himself, supposing that the prisoners had been fled. But Paul cried 
 with a loud voice, saying, Do thyself no harm ! for we are all here ! 
 Then he called for a light, and sprang in, and came tremhling, and fell 
 down before Paul and Silas, and brought them out, and said, Sirs 
 what must I do to be saved ? And they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus 
 Christ and thou shalt be saved and thy house." Acts xvi. 27 31 . 
 
 This passage, I believe, must suffer by a transfer into any other 
 words. Its brevity and strength are, I think, inimitable. I most 
 painfully feel the utter insufficiency and unworthiness of my own 
 paraphrase ; and, were it not that it was too important a part of the 
 subject, I should certainly liave been guided by Horace's hint, 
 
 quae 
 
 Desperat tractata nitescere posse, relinquit. 
 
 43 " The path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more 
 and more unto the perfect day." Prov. iv. 18. 
 
 44 "And he took them the same hour of the night, and washed 
 their stripes ; and was baptized, he and all his, straightway. And 
 when he had brought them into his house, he set meat before them, 
 and rejoiced, believing in God with all his house." Acts xvi. 33, 34. 
 
 45 " And when it was day the magistrates sent the Serjeants, saying 
 Let those men go." Acts xvi. 35. 
 
 45 " But Paul said unto them, They have beaten us openly uncon- 
 demned, being Romans, and have cast us into prison ; and now do 
 they thrust us out privily ? Nay, verily, but let them come themselves 
 and fetch us out." Acts xvi. 37. 
 
 47 " And the Serjeants told these words unto the magistrates, and they 
 feared when they heard that they were Romans : And they came, and 
 
NOTES. 97 
 
 besought them, and brought them out, and desired them to depart out 
 of the city." Acts xvi. 38, 39. 
 
 48 " And they went out of the prison, and entered into the house of 
 Lydia : and when they had seen the brethren, they comforted them, 
 and departed." Acts xvi. 40. 
 
 49 " Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morn- 
 ing/' Ps. xxx. 5. 
 
JACOB. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PRIZE 
 IN THE YEAR 1834. 
 
 H 2 
 
JACOB. 
 
 " Jacob was a plain man.*' 
 
 GEN. xxv. 27. 
 
 " I boast no song in magic's wonder rife : 
 
 But yet, oh Nature ! is there nought to prize 
 Familiar in thy bosom-scenes of life ?" 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 A DAY of many changes ! shower and sun, 
 In dubious conflict, oft have lost and won ; 
 Now a long space of deep and settled gloom, 
 Now bursts the day-king from his shadowy tomb, 
 And the broad river and the cultured plain 
 Laugh in the luxury of light again. 
 
102 JACOB. 
 
 A day of many changes ! but at length 
 The spirits of the clouds have spent their strength, 
 Driven from the empire of the upper world, 
 Their ranks are hroken, and their banner furled ; 
 And scarce the ear, in faint vibration, feels 
 The distant roll of their retiring wheels. 
 'Tis evening's solemn hour ! the expectant West 
 Awaits the advent of her glorious guest ; 
 And fairy looms have broidered with vermilion 
 The gorgeous drapery of his proud pavilion ; 
 He walks to rest triumphant, from his hair 
 Shedding down radiance through the amber air ; 
 As if resolved in lavish mood to pay 
 To Nature quittance for his long delay. 
 Brief reign as beautiful ! how quickly die 
 The splendors of that airy pageantry ! 
 E'en as we gaze, the brilliant tints of even 
 Are melted in the blank abyss of heaven ; 
 And though, in close battalia ranked on high, 
 The countless armies of the night march by, 
 
JACOB. 103 
 
 Their sheen, so coldly, tremulously bright, 
 Seems but the ghost of day's departed light. 
 
 All day an aged man with wistful eye 
 Had watched the aspect of that moody sky ; 
 As if each change on memory's mirror cast 
 Some imaged scene of joy or sorrow past : 
 Dim was his sight, but not too dim to know 
 When the broad sunshine settled on his brow ; 
 He smiled, as though some inward sense had felt 
 The warmth and gladness in his spirit melt, 
 An inward consciousness of peace divine, 
 Gilding the shadows of his day's decline : 
 Yea even the very clouds, that long had striven 
 To dim the lustre of that ray from heaven, 
 Were taught to bear the ensigns of its power, 
 And swell the triumph of its parting hour. 
 
104 JACOB. 
 
 And some who watcli'd him deemed at times there stole 
 A brilliant emanation of the soul, 
 Shedding a pure effulgence, all its own, 
 A charm to Nature's kindliest smile unknown ; 
 As if his aged brow and tresses white 
 Emitted, rather than received, the light : 
 But, when the Sun, fast sinking to his rest, 
 Dipped his great disk behind the desert's breast, 
 A moment, dazzled by the level ray, 
 Those guardian friends had turned their glance away ; 
 And, when they gazed again, they scarcely knew 
 That face, so altered in its form and hue ; 
 Where not one trace of feeling lingered yet, 
 The glory was eclipsed ! the soul was set ! 
 Set to a world o'ercast with sin and sorrow, 
 To rise unclouded on a fairer morrow. 
 
 1 The last of the three Patriarchs ! none might claim, 
 When he was not, that venerable name : 
 
JACOB. 105 
 
 And though his numerous sons, a stalwart band, 
 Spread forth their tribes along the peopled land, 
 None rose to emulate the parent-mind ; 
 It left no fellow to its worth behind. 
 
 There is a mystery in parting words 
 A spell that sways affection's deepest chords, 
 And oft, when least expected, makes us start 
 At that Eolian music of the heart. 
 
 They were the offspring of his favorite child, 
 Who oft had Age of half its cares beguiled ; 
 And, by their Grandsire's couch, his latest day, 
 Watched life's last sands in brightness ebb away ; 
 They caught his parting words ! and, many a year, 
 Those tones will haunt remembering fancy's ear, 
 Checking youth's glee, like that long, plaintive wail, 
 Which mingles with the night-bird's rapturous tale, 
 
106 JACOB. 
 
 And soothing manhood's breast of stormy gloom 
 With a far music from beyond the tomb. 
 
 " My children !" thus he spake, " Could aught detain 
 My spirit, half enfranchised of its chain, 
 Methinks, 'twould be the lingering love, whose sway 
 Yields not to time, and triumphs o'er decay ; 
 The love, that yearns, oh yet a little while ! 
 To sun me in the brightness of your smile, 
 A little while to bid my heart rejoice 
 At the wild notes of childhood's happy voice ; 
 And nurse Hope's golden dreams, from hour to hour 
 Tending the promise of life's opening flower ! 
 
 " Yet wherefore wish ? Ah why should I retrace, 
 With those I love, that wild and weary space ? 
 Why should I wait to see the clouds arise, 
 And blot the hopes of morning's rosy skies ; 
 
JACOB. 107 
 
 To see the cheek, where Mirth's young dimples play, 
 
 Sink in the settled languor of decay ; 
 
 And the glad eye, as yet unknown to tears, 
 
 Lose all its brightness 'neath the blight of years ? 
 
 I was like thee, my Ephraim, this worn face, 
 
 Where Time hath left so many a ruthless trace, 
 
 Thou scarce would'st deem, perchance, that it had known 
 
 As smooth and fair a beauty as thine own. 
 
 I had a brother too, mine eyes are dim, 
 
 But oft, Manasseh, in thy strength of limb, 
 
 Well framed in Nature's sterner mould, to grace 
 
 Each hardy venture of the fight or chace, 
 
 Thy gallant bearing, and thy gladsome smile, 
 
 Thy heart that knows not and that fears not guile, 
 
 Whose fond devotion, on the present cast, 
 
 Neglects the future, and forgets the past, 
 
 E'en in thy voice, its accent and its phrase, 
 
 I mark the comrade of my early days. 
 
 And the same fate is on thee the decree, 
 
 That gave the birthright heritage to me, 
 
108 JACOB. 
 
 Constrained my tongue, and swayed my hands to shed 
 The first-born's blessing on his brother's head. 
 
 " Alas ! my brother as I lay alone 
 On the hard pillow of the desert stone, 
 Forced from my home, my happy home, to flee, 
 How turned my soul in bitterest thought to thee ! 
 Together born ! together rocked to rest ! 
 And fed and pillowed by the same dear breast ! 
 Together ! how that word, in after years, 
 Unseals the heart- spring's unavailing tears ! 
 I shed them then how oft I since have shed 
 For friends the absent the estranged the dead- 
 The partners of youth's joys, or childhood's mirth, 
 All gone ! and I am left alone on Earth. 
 
 " My brother ! yes I wronged thee, and I date 
 From that sad hour, the darkening of my fate ; 
 
JACOB. 109 
 
 For all was bright till then, and thence begin 
 The shades of sorrow and the stains of sin. 
 How much I suffered for thy sake is known 
 To Him who knows the heart, to Him alone : 
 But He is gracious ; on that dreary night 
 I saw his glory, and I blest the sight ; 
 My spirit saw Him ! 2 saw the steps that rise 
 Up from this earth to yonder glowing skies, 
 Mountain on mountain, cliff on cliff sublime, 
 Such as no mortal step hath dared to climb, 
 Girdled with clouds and canopied with snows 
 Far into peerless light the Eternal peaks arose ! 
 And up and down, from dizzy height to height, 
 Ethereal forms of beauty and of might 
 Sped like embodied lightning ; and, methought, 
 Mine ear at times unearthly music caught, 
 Sweet tones that spake of love the voice of Him 
 Who stood amidst his host of Seraphim, 
 Listing the prayers they wafted from below, 
 The plaint of anguish and the groan of woe. 
 
110 JACOB. 
 
 " My fathers' God ! I learned in happier days 
 To seek thy blessing, and to sing thy praise ; 
 In boyhood's hours, upon my parents' knee, 
 I trembling listened while they spake of Thee ; 
 But then I saw Thyself, and every sense 
 Was hushed to deep but fearless reverence ; 
 I could not fear, a message from above 
 Kevealed thy name, and told me it was Love ; 
 There were no words, but thoughts of peace divine, 
 Breathed from thy spirit, and inhaled by mine : 
 That hour I proved, 'mid sorrow, want and care, 
 The power of faith, the prevalence of prayer ; 
 And since that hour, whatever ills assailed* 
 I often proved it, and it never failed ; 
 Bear witness, Peniel, 3 how the livelong night, 
 Locked in the arms of more than mortal might, 
 I strove in strong endurance, wearily, 
 Hour after hour, that heavy night toiled by, 
 And still he yielded not ; my nerveless limb 
 Shrank to his touch ; but yet I clung to him, 
 
JACOB. 1 1 1 
 
 Till strength and breath had failed : at length he spoke, 
 
 ( Unhand me, mortal, for the day hath broke,' 
 
 ' Nay, Lord/ I feebly cried, ' We part not so, 
 
 Except thou bless, I will not let thee go.' 
 
 Again he spake, my heart the accents hailed, 
 
 ' Rise ! thou hast power with God, and hast prevailed/ 
 
 " That morn my brother met me, with dismay 
 I heard the tidings of his fierce array. 
 Long years had passed, enough, methought, of time 
 To wipe away the memory of my crime ; 
 But I was rich, my flocks extending wide 
 Whitened the banks of Jordan's rushing tide, 
 And ill my peaceful shepherds might withstand 
 The mountain- chieftain and his armed band : 
 In sooth I feared 4 and fond precaution cast 
 To make the dearest front the peril last. 
 Alas for faith ! how soon, by danger driven, 
 The wavering soul unclasps her hold on Heaven ! 
 
JACOB. 
 
 Could I forget, while yet my limbs confessed 
 The touch that visionary hand impressed ? 
 But He did not forget, my brother felt 
 Each angry purpose 'neath His influence melt. 
 We met, as brethren meet, who long have loved, 
 And long been parted : how my heart was moved, 
 6 As to my outstretched arms that rugged man, 
 With all the warmth of boyish welcome, ran ; 
 As thoughts of old remembrance uncongealed 
 Those tears, so long alas ! so sternly sealed : 
 I blessed him there ; and there, with shame, renewed 
 To Bethel's God my vows of gratitude. 
 
 " No marvel then, that to my brightening view 
 Too flattering Hope her fairest pictures drew ; 
 No marvel, that I dreamed of peace to come, 
 And all the quiet and the bliss of home, 
 Days of light labour, nights of peaceful rest, 
 All I had sought so Jong, so late possessed. 
 
JACOB. 113 
 
 I gazed on those who soothed my toilsome youth 
 
 With woman's patience, tenderness, and truth, 
 
 I gazed upon each dear and happy child, 
 
 And every brow returned my glance and smiled: 
 
 Oh God ! within my very grasp was placed 
 
 The cup of rapture I was ne'er to taste. 
 
 A few short months, and I was once again 
 
 The most unhappy of unhappy men. 
 
 6 My daughter ! let it pass ! whate'er thou art, 
 
 A father's blessing on thy broken heart ; 
 
 But how I loved thee ! thou wert passing fair, 
 
 With glowing cheeks, dark eyes, and glossy hair, 
 
 And a sweet smile, where once was wildly blent 
 
 All that is beautiful and innocent, 
 
 A picture limned in Nature's softest mood, 
 
 But now all blotted o'er with tears and blood. 
 
 "Dear children ! I have learned at length to know 
 The gain of grief, the blessedness of woe ; 
 
J 14 JACOB. 
 
 To feel that heavenly peace, vouchsafed alone 
 When all the blandishments of Earth are gone. 
 Yet long I struggled with the chastening rod, 
 Marvelling and murmuring at the ways of God, 
 Who seemed to shroud his smiles in wayward gloom, 
 7 And blight the hopes himself had bade to bloom ; 
 I know Him now ! and ah ! I know the heart, 
 That thus in mercy he ordained to smart, 
 In mercy made each earthly prospect dim, 
 That it might centre all its love on Him. 
 
 " Yet 'twas a bitter lesson and e'en now 
 I feel the scars of that o'erwhelming blow, 
 Which, sudden as the lightning from above, 
 Blasted my paradise of earthly love. 
 Oh Rachel ! often had we prayed that Heaven 
 Would grant us children : and the boon was given, 
 The fatal boon, with bitterest sorrow rife ! 
 Heaven gave the children, but removed the wife. 
 
JACOB. 1 I 5 
 
 Was it for this, all lovely as thou wert, 
 I won the treasure of thy virgin heart ? 
 For this, a menial 'mid thy father's herd, 
 I bore the sickening pang of hope deferred ; 
 Bore what youth's eager heart so hardly bears 
 In patient toil for two long weeks of years ? 
 There, as I gazed upon thy cold pale face, 
 E'er yet I yielded thee to Earth's embrace, 
 How memory called her phantoms, till I seemed 
 To live again amid the scenes she dreamed ; 
 With torturing accuracy rose to sight 
 Each half forgotten moment of delight, 
 The smile, that blessed me when I met thee first, 
 The hope, in solitude and silence nursed, 
 The whispered vow, that made my passion known, 
 The blush, that told I did not love alone, 
 The tones of fondness, as we wandered wide 
 In lingering converse by the meadow's side, 
 The bridal day, the conjugal caress, 
 The o'erflowing cup of mutual happiness, 
 
 I 2 
 
116 JACOB. 
 
 The dear domestic charms, that soothed and cheered, 
 Doubled each joy, and every sorrow shared ! 
 Again I gazed ! I could not choose hut hope 
 That those sealed eyelids to my glance would ope ; 
 I kissed her cheek ; that touch the vision sped ; 
 And then I felt that joy and she were dead ! 
 
 " I sought my father's home ; where she was not, 
 It seemed a sad and solitary spot : 
 Howbeit, though all its early glow was lost, 
 Though torn from all it loved and valued most, 
 The heart, by instinct, like the widowed vine, 
 Sought some fresh object where its strings might twine ; 
 And many offered : but I scarce could bear 
 Another's image in my breast to wear, 
 Until at length to my despairing eyes 
 I saw her likeness in her son arise, 
 Her first-born son ; the eye, whose light was bliss, 
 The high clear brow, the shadowy hair was his, 
 
JACOB. 
 
 The smile, like sunshine upon roses thrown, 
 The deep and touching tenderness of tone ; 
 1 saw I heard her ! from their icy chain 
 My chilled affections thawed to life again ; 
 Thawed like the mountain stream, and swept away 
 The hounds of duty in its headlong sway. 
 Yes, Joseph ! madly I on thee bestowed 
 All that to man half that to God I owed : 
 I felt no warmth, no energy in prayer, 
 Unless thy name was fondly blended there ; 
 I looked on forms that once my love had shared, 
 But owned no pleasure till thyself appeared. 
 
 " This could not last ; and Heaven and Earth, alike 
 Wronged and insulted, raised the arm to strike. 
 It boots not now, when all its issue know, 
 Again to harrow up that tale of woe : 
 8 The bloody vest the words, so cutting cold 
 From those who shared not in the griefs they told : 
 
8 JACOB. 
 
 My sons ! his brothers ! I would not recall 
 
 Those deeds, where sin and shame belong to all, 
 
 Save once again to breathe my thanks to Heaven ; 
 
 All sinned, all suffered, all have been forgiven. 
 
 Thenceforth the sleepless night and sunless day 
 
 Wore in monotony of grief away ; 
 
 My broken spirit, humbled in the dust, 
 
 Mourned o'er its chastisement, but owned it just: 
 
 Earth too withheld her fruits, my fields grew bare, 
 
 Till one vast desert frowned through all the year. 
 
 I little heeded, for the spirit's dearth 
 
 Had left no relish for the gifts of earth ; 
 
 9 One only wish upon my bosom pressed, 
 
 To creep into my grave, and be at rest. 
 
 But when I saw my sons, and marked at length 
 
 The silent droop of manhood's sinewy strength ; 
 
 And childish cheeks and eyes, so bright ere while, 
 
 Part with their roses, and forget their smile, 
 
 I felt for them, and sent them forth to buy 
 
 From Egypt's granaries a brief supply. 
 
JACOB. 119 
 
 " Oh God of mercy ! while I deemed thy wrath 
 Had swept the fairest blossoms from my path, 
 The Angel of thy presence still was near, 
 Treasured each sigh, and numbered every tear ; 
 And he, my long lost son ! thy wing had spread 
 Its mighty shelter o'er his youthful head ; 
 Guided by Thee, he sought the massy pile, 
 Where Memphis frowns upon the subject Nile; 
 Through various scenes thy favour cheered him on, 
 The bondman's fetter and the tyrant's throne, 
 And gave him Pharaoh's delegated powers, 
 To save a people's life, his own, and ours. 
 10 1 scarcely heard the tidings ! the slow sway 
 Of grief and time had sapped my strength away ; 
 But that fierce pang of mingled joy and wonder 
 Full nigh had rent the slender thread asunder : 
 And when I woke to sense, the chill of fear 
 Checked hope's bright current in its wild career ; 
 Dark baffling doubts did long and sternly strive 
 With those strange words ' Thy son is yet alive !' 
 
120 JACOB. 
 
 Yet did I live to see him ! live to hear 
 Those tones of music melt upon mine ear. 
 The purple robe the sceptre's jewelled weight 
 The guard of honour, and the car of state, 
 
 I marked them not : my heart, my eye alone 
 One thought, one object filled, my son my son! 
 
 II Yea, I have seen his children ! here I rest, 
 Nursed by their care and by their fondness blest ; 
 They made the evening of my troubled day, 
 
 In cloudless sunshine, smile itself away. 
 
 " Aye, the broad sun is setting ! 'tis the last 
 That on these eyes its parting light shall cast ; 
 He will arise to give the morrow birth, 
 And waken all the myriad charms of earth ; 
 I shall not need him then ! my soul shall gaze^ 
 On lovelier prospects and on purer rays ! 
 E'en now, through yonder clouds, the sapphire sky 
 Opes, like the portal of eternity ; 
 
JACOB. 
 
 And forms of light and air around me throng, 
 
 And far, faint cadences of angel- song 
 
 Float through the depth of heaven : I come I come 
 
 Farewell, my children ! 'tis my summons home 
 
 My Father's home ! Alas ! your cheeks are pale, 
 
 And ye have sorrowed o'er the old man's tale ; 
 
 It ends in peace ! and, with my dying hreath, 
 
 That peace, my latest "blessing, I "bequeath 
 
 To you and your's for ever : guard it well ! 
 
 12 And He of Bethel and of Peniel 
 
 He who, through all the varied path I trod, 
 
 Was Jacob's Comforter and Jacob's God 
 
 He shall be yours : and oh, ye ne'er shall know 
 
 The dark experience of my sin and woe ; 
 
 Unchanging love o'er all your life shall shine, 
 
 And crown its blessings with an end like mine !" 
 
 The scene of death is closed, and Mamre's cave 
 Receives the Patriarch to his fathers' grave ; 
 
J 22 JACOB. 
 
 And o'er the bier, where those dear ashes slept, 
 
 A sorrowing nation howed its head and wept : 
 
 They built no pyramid, with mimic woe 
 
 To mock the dust it sepulchres below, 
 
 To stand, when all beside have fled the spot, 
 
 Eternal monument of names forgot ; 
 
 Yet Jacob's humble name shall live and shine, 
 
 Scrolled 'mid the records of a hand divine ; 
 
 No tale of wonder, Fancy's ear to soothe, 
 
 But solemn lessons of unvarnished truth, 
 
 Where men of every age and every clime, 
 
 Till the great Angel knells the death of Time, 
 
 May learn, amid the fever- dream of life, 
 
 Joy's transient flash, and trouble's stormy strife, 
 
 To bid the fickle hopes of Earth depart, 
 
 And yield to God an undivided heart, 
 
 And prove his power, whatever lot befall, 
 
 To guide, to comfort, and to save through all. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 In Joseph's dream (Gen. xxxvii. 9) the patriarch Jacob is repre- 
 sented by the sun, and his children by the stars. 
 
 2 " And he dreamed, and behold, a ladder set up on the earth, and 
 the top of it reached to heaven ; and behold, the angels of God as- 
 cending and descending on it." Gen. xxviii. 12. The poetical liberty 
 taken with the literality of this passage was suggested by the view of 
 the Alps at sunrise from the Righi. [Vide lines on the same subject 
 among the Miscellaneous Poems.] 
 
 3 " And Jacob was left alone ; and there wrestled a man with him 
 until the breaking of the day. And when he saw that he prevailed not 
 against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of 
 Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. And he said, 
 Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go 
 except thou bless me. And he said unto him, What is thy name ? 
 And he said, Jacob. And he said, Thy name shall be called no more 
 Jacob, but Israel : for as a prince hast thou power with God and with 
 men, and hast prevailed." Gen. xxxii. 24 28. 
 
 4 " And he put the handmaids and their children foremost, and Leah 
 and her children after, and Rachel and Joseph hindermost." Gen. 
 xxxiii. 2. 
 
 5 " And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his 
 neck, and kissed him : and they wept." Gen. xxxiii. 4. 
 
 6 Gen. xxxiv. 
 
]24 NOTES. 
 
 7 Gen. xxxv. 9 12. God appeared to Jacob and blessed him, im- 
 mediately before the death of Rachel. 
 
 8 " They sent the coat of many colours, and they brought it to their 
 father ; and said, This have we found : know now whether it be thy 
 son's coat or no.'' Gen. xxxvii. 32. 
 
 9 " He refused to be comforted ; and he said, For I will go down 
 into the grave unto my son mourning." Gen. xxxvii. 35. 
 
 10 " They told him, saying : Joseph is yet alive, and he is governor 
 over all the land of Egypt. And Jacob's heart fainted, for he believed 
 them not." Gen. xlv. 26. 
 
 11 " And Israel said unto Joseph, I had not thought to see thy face : 
 and lo, God hath shewed me also thy seed." Gen. xlviii. 11. 
 
 13 " The Angel that redeemed me from all evil, bless the lads." 
 Gen. xlviii. 16. 
 
ISHMAEL. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PRIZE 
 IN THE YEAR 1835. 
 
ISHMAEL. 
 
 Since my young days of passion -joy or pain, 
 
 Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string ; 
 
 And both may jar : it may be that in vain 
 I would essay as I have sung to sing : 
 Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling, 
 
 So it may wean me from the weary dream 
 Of selfish grief. 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD. 
 
 I. 
 
 AND here we part ! for thrice ten years, 
 'Mid all that blesses, soothes, endears, 
 
 I called this place my home : 
 With parents, kindred, friends at last 
 With all that linked me to the past 
 
 The parting hour is come ! 
 
128 ISHMAEL. 
 
 They'll miss my voice ! they'll see my seat 
 
 Stand empty at the board ! 
 They'll pass along the well-known street ; 
 The very house their eye shall meet ; 
 But none their coming steps shall greet : 
 
 It owns another lord. 
 Scenes of my childhood and my youth, 
 Friends of long tried and trusted truth, 
 
 % 
 
 I breathe my sad adieu ! 
 And stranger hands my path may smooth ; 
 And stranger hearts my spirit sooth ; 
 
 But can they love like you ? 
 " My heart and harp have lost a string ;" 
 And if I fondly strive to sing 
 
 A tale of kindred grief, 
 Ye will not harshly judge the strain, 
 That seeks no higher end to gain 
 Than, while it paints another's pain, 
 
 To yield mine own relief. 
 
ISHMAEL. 129 
 
 IT. 
 
 Far ! far away 
 
 She hath wandered forth from her home to day ! 
 From each beloved, familiar spot, 
 That now henceforth shall know her not 
 The meadows she trod in life's young hours, 
 When she bloomed the loveliest among their flowers, 
 From the fine old palms, that gracefuljy bent 
 Their feathery boughs o'er the herd-king's tent, 
 Where a mother's watch she was wont to keep, 
 Singing her child to his noon-tide sleep, 
 From every sight and sound held dear, 
 By habit, to the eye and ear, 
 She hath gone, in the desert-paths to stray 
 
 Far ! far away ! 
 
 m. 
 
 Gone ! and why ? mid a scene so lone, 
 What doth she there with her stripling son ? 
 
 K 
 
130 ISHMAEL. 
 
 There is not a touch of verdure nigh, 
 
 To ease the foot or to glad the eye ; 
 
 The dry grey rocks look grimly down 
 
 On plains that give them back their frown ; 
 
 Nothing living, that stirs or speaks. 
 
 The breathless, pulseless silence breaks : 
 
 Such languor sleeps over plain and hill, 
 
 As if the very air stood still : 
 
 And the eye looks forth, and knows no bound, 
 
 Save the sky above and the sand around : 
 
 A being formed for love and bliss, 
 
 What doth she now in a scene like this ? 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alas for the day her master gave 
 His ill-starred love to the gentle slave ! 
 Happier for her to have lived and died 
 His poorest herdman's humble bride, 
 Without a care to wring the breast, 
 Save such as lend to pleasure zest : 
 
ISHMAEL. 131 
 
 Then never had her spirit felt 
 
 The wrongs her envious mistress dealt, 
 
 Who, hopeless of a lineal heir, 
 
 Gave her the spousal rite to share, 
 
 The happy bondmaid's fetter broke, 
 
 To load her with an heavier yoke. 
 
 That bondmaid came not of a strain * 
 
 Which might be crushed, nor turn again : 
 
 Howe'er her feeling waked at once 
 
 In warm and eloquent response, 
 
 When kindness breathed its accents mild, 
 
 Yet Hagar was Arabia's child, 
 
 And storm-clouds, charged by Eastern sun, 
 
 Their lightning 2 through her veins had run. 
 
 v. 
 
 What marvel that the damsel's breast 3 
 Some touch of natural pride confessed, 
 As o'er those countless herds she gazed, 
 And fond maternal visions raised, 
 
 K 2 
 
J 32 tSHMAEI, 
 
 How she, in other days, should call 
 Her child the wealthy lord of all ? 
 But He who holds the sapphire throne 
 Had cast the fortunes of her son ; 
 And on the future's mystic page 
 Traced him a wider heritage. 
 So spake the angel, 4 sent to cheer 
 Her hour of darkness and of fear, 
 When, as she fled her rival's wrath, 
 He glanced across her weary path, 
 And warned her home with gentle speech : 
 " Hagar, return," he cried, " and teach 
 Thy soul in peace and patience still 
 To bend to Sarai's wayward will. 
 A few brief months their course must run, 
 And Heaven shall bless thee with a son, 
 A mighty prince ! but not like those 
 Who idly on their thrones repose ; 
 Of fearless heart and sinewy limb, 
 At war with man, and man with him, 
 
1SHMAEL. 133 
 
 He shall, by right of force, possess , 
 A kingdom in the wilderness : 
 The purple of the gorgeous sky 
 Shall be his royal canopy, 
 And hunter's bow or warrior's brand 
 The insignia of his wild command !" 
 
 VI. 
 
 Such words a mother's ear received, 
 A mother's ardent faith believed : 
 Through years of suffering meekly kept, 
 The promise in her heart had slept : 
 E'en when the harsh command was passed, 
 And drove her from her home at last, 
 Which Heaven itself forbade to share 
 With her oppressor's late-born heir, 
 Still, in unshaken hope, she went 
 Upon her desolate banishment. 
 Yet was there one her husband-lord 
 She left remembered and deplored : 
 
134 ISHMAEL. 
 
 Scarce might her gentle feeling brook 
 The anguish of his parting look, 
 Where meek submission 5 vainly strove 
 For mastery o'er a father's love ; 
 And pangs, that only parents know, 
 Convulsed his venerable brow ; 
 And free and fast the tear-drops fell, 
 As thus, in passionate farewell, 
 He clasped, and blessed his Ishmael. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Oh God ! 6 thou knowest I did implore thee 
 
 That Ishmael might live before thee : 
 
 I may not murmur at the doom 
 
 Which sends him from my heart and home. 
 
 I murmured not when thy decree 
 
 
 
 Assigned such outcast lot to me, 
 In youth's green summer drove me forth, 
 Far from the country of my birth, 
 To wander o'er the lonely earth : 
 
ISHMAEL. 135 
 
 Yet, wheresoe'er my steps I bent, 
 Thy presence with thy servant went ; 
 Thine eye hath seen the altar rise ; 
 Thy love hath blessed the sacrifice. 
 And now I yield, in humble prayer, 
 My son, my first-born, to thy care : 
 Vouchsafe to succour and to speed, 
 Where'er thy guiding will shall lead ; 
 Grant him beneath thy wings to rest, 
 And bless him as his sire was blest !" 
 
 VIII. 
 
 So parted they ! the stripling's mind 
 Soon gave its sorrows to the wind ; 
 And, as the free fresh air he quaffed, 
 Looked in his mother's face and laughed ; 
 Till from the spirits of her boy 
 She caught the sympathy of joy. 
 And, sooth to say, the child was one 
 A mother's eye might doat upon : 
 
136 ISHMAEL. 
 
 Beautiful in his youth's first morn, 
 The woes her anxious heart had borne 
 Touched his but slightly ; he could fly, 
 When the domestic storm ran high, 
 To find, 'mid social pleasure's dearth, 
 Sunshine in heaven and bloom on earth. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Cheer thee, my mother ! forth we fare, 
 I know not, and I reck not where ! 
 Blest is my lot, whate'er it be, 
 That bids me go, and go with thee. 
 Oh weep no more ! forgive thy son, 
 Who dared to mock 7 the favoured one : 
 'Twas but the sense of thy distress, 
 Which edged my heart to bitterness, 
 A shadow o'er my path hath thrown, 
 That had no sorrows of its own. 
 I've watched thee oft at midnight deep, 
 When thou hast deemed thy child asleep > 
 
ISHMAEL. 137 
 
 And heard thee sigh, and felt thee weep ; 
 
 I felt the salt and scalding tear, 
 
 When thou hast laid thy cheek too near. 
 
 'Tis past ! we've hurst that cruel chain ; 
 
 And none may hind its links again ! 
 Look forth ! there is joy in the world before thee ; 
 Joy sings in the hreeze that wantons o'er thee ; 
 Joy clothes the fields in their emerald dye, 
 And laughs on thee from heaven's hlue eye ! 
 While all that's happy meets our view, 
 Why should not we he happy too ?" 
 
 x. 
 
 Bright visions ! palaces of air, 
 
 Which childhood's eager fancy huilds ! 
 Scenes, that with colouring rich and rare 
 
 The sunrise of the spirit gilds ! 
 Blossoms that, like the cistus flower, 
 Unfold their petals for an hour, 
 
138 ISHMAEL. 
 
 Yet in that tiny space compress 
 
 An age of lavish loveliness ! 
 
 Poor child ! he little deemed how soon, 
 
 Beneath the withering gaze of noon, 
 
 On the dry dusty desert laid, 
 
 With nought to shelter, or to shade, 
 
 His visionary hopes would fade. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Yet long he waged unequal strife 
 
 Against the failing springs of life ; 
 
 Onward he struggled many a mile, 
 
 By speech constrained and feeble smile, 
 
 Trusting, in innocent deceit, 
 
 The eye, he durst not front, to cheat. 
 
 Ah fond delusion, tried in vain ! 
 
 She caught the first slight signs of pain 
 
 Yea, in her soul's disquietude, 
 
 Had fancied them before she viewed. 
 
ISHMAEL. 139 
 
 XII. 
 
 She too was weary : 8 all was spent, 
 Her little store of nourishment ! 
 Long hours, since on her Ishmael's tongue 
 The last reluctant drop she wrung ; 
 Yet famine, weariness and thirst, 
 Though each and all essayed their worst, 
 She felt not ! every thought and care 
 Turned on her hoy and centered there. 
 She marked his airy step grow weak ; 
 She saw the hue forsake his cheek ; 
 She felt his hand relax its hold ; 
 She kissed his brow 'twas damp and cold ; 
 And the rich curls of glossy hrown, 
 Drooped in lank languid masses down. 
 This might not last he reeled and fell, 
 " Mother, I faint ! farewell ! farewell !" 
 'Twas all he could the imperfect note 
 Was choked within his rattling throat. 
 
140 JSHMAEL. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 She wept not ! horror froze the tear ; 
 She called not ! there was none to hear. 
 With glance dilated, fixed and glazed, 
 All statue-like, she stood and gazed : 
 Gazed on the half-closed eyes' eclipse, 
 The froth upon the pallid lips, 
 The stiff stark limbs, that late were rife 
 With all the energies of life. 
 Yet still he lived for o'er his frame 
 At times a transient shudder came, 
 And short convulsive gasps for breath 
 Shewed nature still waged war with death. 
 
 xrv. 
 
 Oh only He, whose word at first 
 Bade woman into being burst, 
 The master-effort of his mind, 
 The last and loveliest of her kind, 
 
ISHMAEL. 141 
 
 He only knows the thousand ties 
 
 That weave a mother's sympathies ; 
 
 The mystery of that mighty bond, 
 
 Soft as 'tis strong, and firm as fond, 
 
 That blends joys, sorrows, hopes and fears, 
 
 To link her with the child she bears. 
 
 In vain the feebler sense of man 
 
 That feeling's breadth and depth would scan ; 
 
 It spreads beyond, it soars above 
 
 The instincts of his ruder love. 
 
 I would not with my touch profane 
 
 A theme my fancy grasps in vain : 
 
 There is no passion of sad words, 
 
 Not music, in its wildest chords, 
 
 Can give expression to the woe, 
 
 That made lost Hagar's cup o'erflow. 
 
 Though human aid, at such an hour, 
 
 Were bootless 'gainst the spoiler's power, 
 
 'Twere something on an husband's breast 
 
 The sorrow -stricken head to rest ; 
 
2 ISHMAEL. 
 
 E'en on some pitying, faithful friend 
 
 The agony of tears to spend : 
 
 But there was none ! she deemed her fate 
 
 Utterly lorn and desolate : 
 
 Friend, husband, comforter was gone ; 
 
 She trusted all her hopes on one ; 
 
 And there he lay ! her dying son ! 
 
 xv. 
 
 She turned aside, 9 for brain and heart 
 Could act no more their desperate part ; 
 She turned aside in her despair, 
 
 And sat her down hard by : 
 One pang at least she could not bear 
 
 To see him die ! 
 
 A dim, dense, dreamy stupor stole 
 Over the pulses of her soul, 
 Kind nature's last resource, when grief 
 Makes, what it cannot find, relief. 
 
ISHMAEL. 143 
 
 XVI. 
 
 A soft sweet burst of light ! 
 
 A rush of dazzling wings ! 
 A voice, like that which at deep midnight 
 
 Sweeps o'er Eolian strings ! 
 A voice, whose well remembered tone 
 
 Heralded peace and hope and joy ! 
 Twas He, who erst had heard her moan ! 
 
 Twas He of Beer-la-hai-roi ! 10 
 Now, though the world had ceased to love her, 
 
 Yet well to Him that name was due : 
 His guardian eye kept watch above her ; 
 
 He lived to prove his promise true. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " What aileth thee ?" u the bright one said, 
 
 " Daughter of woe, awake ! 
 The Lord thy footsteps hither led, 
 And will not here forsake. 
 
144 ISHMAEL 
 
 A nation countless as the dust 
 
 Shall rise, and call him lord. 
 Go raise thy son, and dare to trust 
 
 Jehovah's changeless word. 
 Behold !" 13 With gesture of command 
 He stamped his foot into the sand, 
 
 And, gushing at the stroke, 
 Pure as the pearly dews that weep 
 From Hermon's heaven-besprinkled steep 
 
 A silver runnel hroke. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 She rose : she sprang: hut not to dip 
 Therein her fever- parched lip ; 
 She only caught its waters bright, 
 
 To bear them to her child : 
 In sooth it was a blessed sight, 
 
 As he raised his face and smiled ! 
 No common fount, full well she guessed, 
 A virtue in its waves possessed 
 
ISHMAKL. 145 
 
 Such sudden strength to deal ; 
 But He, who called it into birth 
 Up from the baked and barren earth, 
 
 Had given it power to heal. 
 
 xix. 
 
 And Ishmael grew a stalwart man, 
 Chief of a vast and powerful clan. 
 The home whence he in boyhood passed 
 Was his first dwelling, and his last : 
 Save that no spot of charmed ground 
 His wayward wandering fancy bound : 
 The spirit took its tastes and tone 
 From the stern scenes he gazed upon. 
 Fierce as the red siroc he traced 
 His path through Paran's 13 boundless waste ; 
 And better far for peaceful wight 
 To front that whirlwind in its might, 
 Bearing the columned sand on high, 
 And battling with the noontide sky, 
 
146 
 
 ISHMAEL. 
 
 Than quail before the ruthless sword 
 Of Ishmael and his robber-horde. 
 
 xx. 
 
 Many an age hath come and passed, 
 And many a throne to earth been cast ; 
 But still unchanged by changing time, 
 The same in habits and in clime, 
 Doth Ishmael's outcast race retain 
 The empire of their drear domain ; 
 No hand the desert's soil hath tamed ; 
 No art the desert's son reclaimed. 
 But dimly, through the mist of years, 
 The dawn of glorious day appears ; 
 Messiah opes His reign of bliss ! 
 The kingdoms 14 of the world are His ! 
 The solitary place awakes, 15 
 
 From dull and dread repose ! 
 The desert into verdure breaks, 
 
 And blossoms as the rose ! 
 
ISHMAEL. 147 
 
 Then Isaac's tribes shall cease to mourn, 
 And Ishmael's 16 outcast race return : 
 The rival brethren join to bring 
 Their homage to the heaven-sent king, 
 Shall bow before Messiah's throne, 
 Their common father's seed to own ; 
 Both, from their mutual bondage free, 17 
 In piety and peace agree ; 
 And keep with all the blest above 
 The eternal jubilee of love. 
 
 L 2 
 
NOTES. 
 
 " Duart, of bold Clan-Gillian's strain." Lord of the Isles. 
 a " As if her veins ran lightning." BYRON. 
 
 3 " When she saw that she had conceived, her mistress was despised 
 in her eyes." Gen. xvi. 4. 
 
 4 " The angel of the Lord said unto her, Return to thy mistress, 
 and submit thyself under her hands .... And the angel of the Lord 
 said unto her, Behold, thou art with child, and shalt bear a son, and 
 shalt call his name Ishmael ; because the Lord hath heard thy afflic- 
 tion. And he will be a wild man ; his hand will be against every man, 
 and every man's hand against him." Gen. xvi. 9 12. 
 
 5 " And the thing was very grievous in Abraham's sight, because 
 of his son." Gen. xxi. 11. 
 
 6 " And Abraham said unto God, Oh that Ishmael might live before 
 thee !" Gen. xvii. 18. 
 
 7 " And Sarah saw the son of Hagar the Egyptian, which she had 
 borne unto Abraham, mocking." Gen. xxi. 9. 
 
 8 " The water was spent in the bottle." Gen. xxi. 15. 
 
 9 " She went, and sat her down over against him, a good way off, 
 as it were a bow-shot : for she said, Let me not see the death of the 
 child." Gen. xxi. 16. 
 
150 NOTES. 
 
 10 " She called the name of the Lord that spake unto her, Thou God 
 
 seest me Wherefore the well was called Beer-la-hai-roi." 
 
 ' Puteum viventis et videntis/ POOLE'S Synops. Gen. xvi. 13, 14. 
 
 11 "What aileth thee Hagar? fear not! for God hath heard the 
 voice of the lad, where he is : Arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in 
 thy hand, for I will make him a great nation/' Gen. xxi. 17, 18 ; 
 xvi. 10; xvii. 20. 
 
 12 " God opened her eyes, and she saw a well of water ; and she 
 went, and filled the bottle with water, and gave the lad drink." Gen. 
 xxi. 19. 
 
 13 " He grew, and dwelt in the wilderness, and became an archer ; 
 and he dwelt in the wilderness of Paran.'' Gen. xxi. 20, 21. 
 
 14 " There were great voices in heaven saying, The kingdoms of 
 this world are become the kingdoms of our Lord and of his Christ." 
 Rev. xi. 15. 
 
 16 " The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them, and 
 the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose/' Isaiah xxxv. 1. 
 
 16 "The kings of Sheba and Seba shall offer gifts. He shall live, 
 and to him shall be given of the gold of Sheba." Ps. Ixxii. 10, 15. 
 
 17 Which things are an allegory .... for this Agar, is mount 
 Sinai in Arabia, and answereth to Jerusalem which now is, and is in 
 bondage with her children." Gal. iv. 24, 25. 
 
THE 
 
 STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 A POEM WRITTEN FOR THE SEATONIAN PRIZE 
 IN THE YEA R 1836. 
 
An Introduction was prefixed to this Poem when it was sent in to 
 the Examiners, which the Editors have suppressed because it had no 
 connexion with the subject of the Poem, and referred to events of the 
 day of a political character. 
 
 There is reason for supposing that on this account the prize was 
 not adjudged to it. No prize was given in this year. 
 
THE 
 
 STORY OF CONST ANTINE. 
 
 I. 
 THE heart of the king is in God's right hand, 
 
 As streams of a ductile rill ; 
 Obedient to his high command, 
 
 He guideth it whither He will. 
 It is 2 not because Jehovah's ear 
 Is heavy, that it cannot hear ; 
 Or his arm is shortened of its power, 
 Or his 3 name hath ceased to be a tower, 
 
 Where his saints may safely hide ; 
 
 / 
 
154 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 It is not for this, that fierce and long, 
 Oppression, robbery, and wrong, 
 Make havoc of the passive throng 
 
 That in that Name confide ; 
 It is because the world shall see 
 How, in its naked majesty, 
 His word shall ride triumphant forth, 
 From east to west, from south to north, 
 Compelling nations to its span, 
 Unhindered and unhelped by man : 
 Therefore He lets the heathen rage, 
 In bootless strife, from age to age ; 
 And rulers of the earth unite 
 Their puny impotence of might, 
 And ply the rack, the scourge, the sword, 
 Against the army of the Lord. 
 Ay, let them strive and fret their fill, 
 The Lord 4 is on his holy hill, 
 
 And smiles in calm disdain : 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANT/INK. 155 
 
 When they can make the sun roll back 
 His wheels upon their fiery track, 
 When they can teach the sea to bide 
 Their bidding, and curb in his tide, 
 Or, 'mid the summer's opening reign, 
 Thrust winter on the world again ; 
 Then haply may they join their force, 
 To check the Gospel in its course, 
 Nor spend their strength in vain. 
 
 11. 
 
 But now the golden times drew nigh, 
 Which the sure word of prophecy 
 Had sketched in outline bold and strong, 
 And tinted with the hues of song ; 
 Bright visions from afar, that stole 
 Upon Isaiah's tranced soul, 
 The light of calm and sunny days, 
 The jubilee of love and praise, 
 
1T>6 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 When monarchs 5 should the Church befriend, 
 And queens around its cradle bend, 
 And Faith should beam, the costliest gem, 
 On sceptre and on diadem. 
 
 in. 
 
 A lovely night ! the softness and the calm, 
 The spells of beauty, and the breath of balm, 
 The deep, dark, purple robe of shadowy fold, 
 Bedropped -with jewels of celestial gold, 
 All these are her's ! in northern climes afar, 
 She yokes the whirlwinds to her sable car ; 
 But here, in gentlest guise, she wanders forth, 
 Stealing on tiptoe o'er the noiseless earth, 
 And breathes o'er Nature's lulled and pensive breast 
 Luxurious languor and delicious rest. 
 Oh, man ! and can it be that aught but bliss 
 Awaits the morrow of a night like this ? 
 Alas ! the pale and pensive moonbeams play 
 On battle crouching in his stern array ; 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 157 
 
 And the first freshness of the morning air 
 Shall rouse the rampant monster from his lair. 
 Hist ! you may hear the measured footsteps fall, 
 In their slow circuit round the armed wall ; 
 And, where afar the broad Campagna sweeps, 
 The leaguering host in grim expectance sleeps ; 
 'Mid the ripe orchards and the trellised vines, 
 The white pavilions stretch their glistering lines ; 
 The winds are lulled on Tiber's listless waves, 
 The idle banners sleep around their staves ; 
 And thousands is it thus, on eve of strife, 
 They slumber out the ebbing sands of life ? 
 Are there none here to pry with anxious glance 
 Into the misty future's blank expanse ? 
 No thought of Him, who, throned in viewless state, 
 Marks how his creatures weave the woof of fate ; 
 Bids men or elements his will perform, 
 And sways the battle as He guides the storm ? 
 Yes, one at least ! yon flickering ray is sent 
 From the lone lamp in the Praetorian tent. 
 
158 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Wouldst look within ? Wouldst see the chieftain wait 
 
 The coming crisis that decides his fate ? 
 
 A few brief hours, and Constantine is hurled 
 
 Low in the dust, or throned upon the world. 
 
 The night wanes fast ; and with the morrow's dawn 
 
 The stake is ventured, and the lot is drawn. 
 
 How fares the warrior ? There, with upturned eye, 
 
 Spending its earnest gaze on vacancy, 
 
 Pale cheek, and knitted brow, and lip compressed, 
 
 And arms close folded o'er his mailed breast, 
 
 There, deep in thought, he sits, his battle-blade 
 
 Ready but sheathed, across his knees is laid, 
 
 And a huge volume resting on the sword ; 
 
 What doth it there ? 'Tis God's eternal word ! 
 
 Ay, he hath scanned its records, he hath trod 
 
 In the bright footsteps of the Son of God,- 
 
 Hath watched his advent from its earliest beams, 
 
 Through the dim twilight of prophetic dreams, 
 
 Till down He sped him from the realms of day, 
 
 Wrapping the Godhead in a shroud of clay, 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. I/) 9 
 
 Lived, laboured, suffered, sunk into the tomb, 
 Then burst its portals and dispelled its gloom ; 
 Finished his race, his glorious battle won, 
 Reclaimed the diadem, resumed the throne ;. 
 There waiting, till the promised day shall see 
 Jew, Gentile, sage and savage, bond and free, 
 Nations and tongues and kindreds lowly fall, 
 And hail Him king, and own Him all in all. 
 
 IV. 
 
 'Tis morning ! but a dismal change hath past 
 O'er Nature's face since we beheld it last ; 
 Mist on the meadows, clouds upon the hill, 
 And heaven and earth all colourless and chill ; 
 Reluctantly and slow the light creeps in, 
 As loth to see the game of death begin. 
 It matters not, with martial clang and shout, 
 City and camp have poured their myriads out. 
 
 Veteran and stripling, up and away ! 
 
 Heed not the scowl of the sullen day ! 
 
100 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 There lacks not light to speed ye on, 
 Where life may be lost, or glory won ; 
 To the cymbal- clash, to the trumpet-bray, 
 Veteran and stripling, up and away ! 
 
 v. 
 
 From differing climes those warriors came ; 
 There rolled Iberia's eye of flame, 
 Brown Asia's spare-built sons and tall 
 Marched with the fair-haired youth of Gaul, 
 And clans from Scythia's northern wild, 
 Took post by Lybia's swarthy child. 
 As vapours, drawn by summer beams 
 From distant oceans, lakes and streams, 
 At length in dreary confluence blent, 
 March through the darkened firmament ; 
 And by opposing whirlwinds driven, 
 With thunder- shout, and flashing levin, 
 Do battle on the plains of heaven : 
 Thus, by two master-wills controlled, 
 Onward the mingled squadrons rolled ; 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 1C1 
 
 
 
 Not theirs the pure and fervent zeal, 
 Which patriots for their country feel ; 
 The lust of gold, the hope of spoil, 
 Had lured them from their parent soil, 
 To win high fame and boundless sway 
 For him who holds their lives in pay. 
 
 VI. 
 
 About a bow- shot's space apart, 
 
 A mutual halt was made ; 
 And each, with anxious eye and heart, 
 
 The hostile strength surveyed ; 
 And you heard no sound, save a sullen hum, 
 From those expectant thousands come, 
 And the fitful tap of the kettle-drum, 
 
 Keeping the ranks in line. 
 In sooth it was a goodly sight, 
 Those rival chiefs for battle dight ; 
 There towered Maxentius' giant height, 
 Bestriding steed as black as night ; 
 
 M 
 
102 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And there, on courser snowy white, 
 
 The form of Constantine. 
 Yet not the glow of warlike passion 
 Had reft away the calm expression, 
 With which in secret, yester even, 
 He communed with the lore of heaven : 
 He held a banner in his hand 
 
 Furled closely round a spear ; 
 And near, awaiting his command, 
 Were ranged the captains of his band, 
 Much marvelling to see him stand, 
 As though some visioned scene he scanned 
 
 In the abyss of air. 
 
 VTI. 
 
 At length he spake," The Son 6 of God, 
 On his white war-horse forth he rode, 
 
 With sword of lightning keen ! 
 Chief of embattled cherubim, 
 The armies of heaven followed him, 
 
 In raiment white and clean ! 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 163 
 
 And none his onward path withstood ; 
 And he wore a vestment dipped in blood, 
 Inscribed with light- embroidered words, 
 ' King of kings, and Lord of lords.' 
 Upon his vesture and his thigh, 
 He bore his titles blazoned high ; 
 
 A sunbeam girt his brow ; 
 And, through the portals of the sky, 
 Marched out the royal pageantry : 
 
 I saw I see him now. 
 I see him now ! before his face 
 The congregated clouds apace 
 
 Boll off their dim array ; 
 Huddling upon the rear of night, 
 The grizly shadows take their flight, 
 
 And yield their throne to day. 
 My Lord, my God ! thine ear hath heard 
 The prayer my wavering faith preferred, 
 
 Thy love accepts my vow ; 
 The cross from yonder blue expanse 
 
 M 2 
 
164 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Beams brightly on my gifted glance, 
 Dread instrument of suffering once, 
 
 Symbol of glory now. 
 Soldiers move on ! the day is ours ! 
 E'en hell, with all its banded powers, 
 
 To God's right hand must yield. 
 Move on !" And, as the word he said, 
 He waved the banner o'er his head, 
 Revealing, as its folds outspread, 
 The ruddy cross emblazoned 
 
 Upon an azure field. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then loud the signal trumpet rung ; 
 And forward in an instant flung, 
 
 The glittering line of spears 
 Boiled on the foe the tide of death, 
 As lauwine, 7 loosened by a breath, 
 Hurls o'er the startled vale beneath 
 
 The hoarded storms of years. 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 165 
 
 Yet all that desperate valour could, 
 To check the onset's furious mood, 
 Maxentius dared that day : 
 Ahove the horrid din of war 
 His high clear voice resounded far ; 
 
 And 'mid the foremost fray, 
 Where'er the heart of battle glowed, 
 To right and left his path he mowed ; 
 And the black charger he bestrode, 
 Tossing his awful mane abroad, 
 
 Plunged through the thick array ; 
 And whilst his hoofs the assailants felled, 
 And whilst by tenfold odds unquelled 
 His demon rider smote and yelled, 
 
 The boldest broke away. 
 Unhelmed the warrior fought, a spear 
 Had struck his casque in mid career, 
 And those, who caught his eye, 
 Read in its sternly stedfast stare 
 The last resolve of grim despair, 
 To die. 
 
166 THE STORY OF CONSTANT1NE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 His band was broken, far and wide 
 
 The scene of rout was spread ; 
 Along the Tiber's flowery side 
 The ruthless sword its havoc plied, 
 And by the streams of carnage dyed 
 
 The peaceful river bled : 
 Surrounded by a veteran few, 
 Still to his desperate fortunes true, 
 
 The vanquished leader stood ; 
 He stood upon the shelving shore, 
 The foe came raging on before, 
 
 Behind him rolled the flood. 
 He waved aloft his ready brand, 
 Three had been shivered in his hand, 
 And now the fourth, from point to hilt, 
 Was reeking with the blood he spilt ; 
 Like bull at bay, his eye intent 
 Upon the advancing foe was bent, 
 For 'mid the vanguard of the storm 
 He caught his victor rival's form ; 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 107 
 
 He knew him by his banner bright, 
 
 He knew him by his charger white. 
 
 " Now, all ye gods," he cried, " whose home 
 
 Was reared upon the hills of Rome ! 
 
 Ye, who erst armed with triple might 
 
 Her sons to battle in your right, 
 
 Say quail ye to the upstart faith, 
 
 Before the Jew of Nazareth ? 
 
 Lo ! now his recreant votary comes 
 
 To spoil ye of your ancient domes. 
 
 Jove ! hath thy royal bird aghast, 
 
 The lightning from its talons cast ? 
 
 Oh, hear me now ! thy champion own ! 
 
 Grant me to strike yon banner down ! 
 
 Grant but with one successful blow 
 
 To wreak thy vengeance on my foe ; 
 
 And gladly, gratefully I'll die, 
 
 Blest in that single victory !" 
 
 On came the charge at headlong speed ; 
 The rider of the milk-white steed, 
 
168 THE STORY OF CONST A.NTINE. 
 
 Soon as he saw Maxentius halt, 
 As fain to bide the last assault, 
 Shook tauntingly the blazoned sign, 
 And spurring out before his train, 
 Shouted his banner-cry amain, 
 " Strike for the Cross and Constantine !" 
 
 x. 
 
 As though he shared his master's mood, 
 All motionless the black steed stood, 
 The current of his generous blood 
 I Swelled out the net-work of each vein, 
 O'er his curved neck in fierce disdain 
 Backward he flung his bristling mane, 
 
 And wide his nostril spread ; 
 Say, will he wait till front to front 
 The champions meet in deadly brunt ? 
 A moment and their swords had crossed 
 Just then aloft the banner tossed 
 With lurid and portentous light, 
 
THE STORY OF CONST ANTINE. 169 
 
 Like levin-brand intensely bright, 
 Flashed full upon his blasted sight 
 
 The cross of fiery red. 
 Erect he reared, with shrilly neigh; 
 There ! there ! the faithless bank gives way ! 
 The water, in its shade that lay, 
 
 Was deep and dark as death, 
 And backward down the sheer descent 8 
 Together steed and rider went : 
 
 Each gazer held his breath, 
 Watching, along the sullen flood, 
 The long dark line of oozy mud 
 
 That marked their course beneath ; 
 They watched in vain, nor sight, nor sound, 
 Broke upward from the dim profound ; 
 No token of the helmless head ; 
 No sign of the black steed ; no shred 
 Of cloak or housing rose to view : 
 The stream regained its sallow hue, 
 And with their old dull dreary tone, 
 
170 THE STORY OF CONSTANT1NE. 
 
 All sign of recent tumult gone, 
 Its melancholy waves rolled on. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Turn over the blood-stained page, 
 
 And away from the battle plain ; 
 
 We have cleared for a gentler scene the stage, 
 And we waken a happier strain. 
 
 With the fragrant breezes blending, 
 
 Hark to the voice of joy ascending ! 
 
 They come ! they come ! make room before them ! 
 
 Victory waves her pinions o'er them ! 
 
 Marshalled they come in proud array, 
 
 But none shall bar their course to day ; 
 
 And the glittering spear and the glancing plume 
 
 Display war's grandeur without its gloom ; 
 
 And the trumpet notes, as they melt on the ear, 
 
 Have nothing of menace, and nothing of fear ; 
 
 Before the host, like a foam-wreath white 
 
 That crests the breakers' brow of might, 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. J71 
 
 A choir of virgins, four and four, 
 
 On high the sacred banner bore ; 
 
 And groups of children strewed the way 
 
 With blossoms as fresh and as fair as they. 
 
 Next these, in gorgeous car of state, 
 
 The Hero of the pageant sat, 
 
 His surcoat was wrought with the cross of red, 
 
 And the laurel his helmet garlanded ; 
 
 Four steeds by silken reins controlled, 
 
 In housings of purple fringed with gold, 
 
 Timing their pace to measured song, 
 
 Drew the triumphal pomp along ; 
 
 And far and wide as eye may ken, 
 
 Heaved its dark surges the sea of men : 
 
 The city looks out from all her towers 
 
 To welcome the glorious show, 
 And as in the human torrent pours, 
 It seemed as though the sky rained flowers 
 
 On those who marched below. 
 
172 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The foremost now their way have won 
 To where an altar and a throne, 
 Eaised hastily in open air, 
 O'erlooked the Forum's crowded square ; 
 To right and left with graceful sweep 
 They formed in circle broad and deep : 
 
 Down from his car of pride 
 The victor chief descended, 
 
 He laid the laurel crown aside, 
 And low at the altar bended ; 
 
 And standing at his sovereign's side 
 
 The Christian priest attended. 
 Pervaded by an awful thrill 
 The mighty multitude stood still ; 
 And as the breeze in silence borne 
 Moves o'er the bending fields of corn, 
 So, by one influence swayed, the crowd 
 Their heads in adoration bowed. 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 173 
 
 No whisper on the stillness broke 
 Until the holy prelate spoke ; 
 Raising the golden chalice high, 
 With hallowed water reverently 
 
 The warrior's brow he crossed ; 
 "I baptize thee," he cried, with solemn tone, 
 " In the name of the Father, and of the Son, 
 
 And of the Holy Ghost ! 
 Eise, Constantino, may future fame 
 Tell thou wert worthy of thy name, 
 Constant and true, in deed and heart, 
 To the God whose delegate thou art ! 
 Guard well his church, maintain his cause, 
 And govern by his righteous laws : 
 Take from his servant's peaceful hand 
 This symbol of supreme command ; 
 And may He crown thy reign with bliss, 
 As thou art true to Him and His !" 
 He spake ; and on the chieftain's head 
 The consecrated oil he shed, 
 
174 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And, starred with many a costly gem, 
 Set on the Ceesar's diadem ; 
 
 Uprose the monarch then, 
 And holding up his hand to Heaven, 
 Responded to the blessing given, 
 
 " In the name of God, Amen !" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Shout ! for the spell is broken 
 
 By that last solemn word ; 
 The holy vow is spoken, 
 
 And the awful gift conferred ; 
 Myriads of tongues at once 
 Awakened from their trance, 
 The living mass rocked to and fro 
 
 With wild convulsive motion, 
 Like the volcano's earthquake-throe 
 
 And oft-renewed explosion. 
 At length the thunder rolled away, 
 It yielded to a gentler lay ; 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 175 
 
 The virgin group, a lovely ring, 
 
 Like a wreath of white roses blossoming, 
 
 Surround the throne of the new-made king, 
 
 Their choral incense flinging ; 
 And, ever as the strain trills on, 
 With its mellowest notes in unison, 
 You may catch the small and silver tone 
 
 Of children's voices singing. 
 
 CORONATION HYMN. 
 STROPHE. 
 
 Zadok the priest 9 and Nathan the seer 
 
 Anointed Solomon king, 
 And the people rejoiced, and loud and clear 
 
 Their joy through heaven did ring. 
 God save the king ! long live the king ! 
 
 May the king live for ever ! 
 Without a check, without a stain, 
 Long and bright be the lapse of his reign, 
 
17G THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 Like the stream of a noble river ! 
 Glorious and generous, blessing and blessed, 
 Of all his chiefs the wisest and best, 
 Yet offering for all he hath gained or possessed 
 
 Glory to God the giver ! 
 
 ANTISTROPHE. 
 
 And should the arm of hostile might 
 
 Assail the imperial throne, 
 O God, go with him to the fight, 
 
 And gird his armour on. 
 God save the king ! long live the king ! 
 
 Let the king live for ever ! 
 Lord, give him the sword of invincible metal ; 
 And cover his head in the day of battle ; 
 
 And, like a flooded river 
 Rushing along its desolate track, 
 May he drive his foes to rout and rack ; 
 And sing, as he brings his trophies back, 
 
 Glory to God the giver ! 
 
THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 177 
 
 EPODE. 
 
 Sovereign and soldier ! here we stand, 
 
 Girdling thee round with a peaceful band ; 
 
 We have set the crown on thy victor-brows, 
 
 And we join with thine our humble vows ; 
 
 And we charge thee, by the name thou bearest, 
 
 Let the weakest thy sheltering throne be nearest, 
 
 To lift the lowly, the proud to withstand ; 
 
 Be gentle of spirit and strong of hand, 
 
 And thy subjects shall love thee, and serve thee then, 
 
 With the faith of women and strength of men ; 
 
 And, whenever thine earthly course is run, 
 
 Mellow and warm as the setting sun, 
 
 May'st thou sink in peace to thy glorious rest, 
 
 Which, in far-off climes of the bright and blest, 
 
 For the people of God remaineth ! 
 And at thy Sovereign's feet lay down 
 The jewels of a fairer crown 
 
 Than human prowess gaineth ! 
 
 N 
 
178 THE STORY OF CONSTANTINE. 
 
 And join the white-robed choir that sings 
 Round the sapphire throne of the King of kings, 
 Like the 10 music the deep sea shoreward flings, 
 Or the voice of mighty thunderings ; 
 
 The Lord God Omnipotent reigneth ! 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth ! 
 
NOTE S. 
 
 1 " The king's heart is in the hand of the Lord, as the rivers of 
 water : he turneth it whithersoever he will." Prov. xxi. 1 . 
 
 2 Isaiah lix. 1 . 
 
 3 Prov. xviii. 10. 
 
 4 Psalm ii. 4. 
 
 6 " And kings shall be thy nursing fathers, and their queens thy 
 nursing mothers." Isaiah xlix. 23. 
 
 6 Rev. xix. 1116. 
 
 7 Lauwine, an avalanche. 
 
 8 Maxentius was drowned in attempting to cross the Tiber. 
 
 9 1 Kings i. 38, 39. Vide Coronation Anthem. 
 
 10 " And I heard as it were the voice of a great multitude, and as 
 the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings, 
 saying, Alleluia, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth." Rev. xix. 6. 
 
ETHIOPIA 
 
 STRETCHING OUT HER HANDS UNTO 
 
 GOD. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PKIZE 
 IN THE YEAR 1838. 
 
January, 1838. 
 
 " The Examiners this year gave notice, that, should any poem ap- 
 pear to them to possess distinguished merit, a premium of 100 would 
 be adjudged instead of the ordinary prize/' 
 
 Cambridge, October, 1838. 
 
 "The above premium was this year awarded to the REV. THOMAS 
 EDWARDS HANKINSON, M.A., of Corpus Christ! College/' 
 
THE following poem is put into the mouth of a dying Missionary, 
 whose life has fallen a sacrifice to his exertions for the spread of Chris- 
 tianity in Africa. 
 
 The truth of the circumstances supposed has been too frequently 
 and sadly attested by experience. May the anticipations expressed be 
 speedily approved by as certain but more cheering evidence ! 
 
 This Poem was inscribed to the President and Members of the 
 Church Missionary Society; which contemplated amongst its first 
 objects the amelioration of the spiritual condition of Africa ; and to 
 this it has steadily persevered in giving its best energies, under great 
 difficulties and discouragements. 
 
ETHIOPIA 
 
 STRETCHING OUT HER HANDS UNTO 
 
 GOD. 
 
 Not for the brightness of a mortal wreath, 
 
 Not for a place midst kingly minstrels dead, 
 But that perchance a faint gale of Thy breath, 
 
 A still small whisper in my song, hath led 
 One struggling spirit upward to Thy throne, 
 Or but one hope, one prayer, for this alone 
 
 I bless thee, O my God ! 
 THE DYING POET'S HYMN. (MRS. HEMANS.) 
 
 HATH the day broke ? I heard a gentle warning 
 Whisper my soul, " Joy cometh in the morning !" 
 Lo, Heaven unbars her portals, dimly grand ; 
 The night is well-nigh spent ! the glorious day's at hand ! 
 
186 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 Death ! is this death, so sweetly stealing on ? 
 Death the Destroyer, Sin's portentous son ? 
 This he, who speeds on messages of wrath 
 Where the blue lightning tracks his blasted path ; 
 The spectral rider, 'neath whose pale steed's tread 
 The earthquake rouses from his sulphury bed ; 
 Who lends the charging van his stormy shout, 
 Or screams vindictive o'er the maddening rout, 
 Or wrapped in putrid vapours dank and dense 
 Walks silent with the midnight pestilence ? 
 
 To me he comes with morning, with the hour 
 That wakes the woodland, and that opes the flower ; 
 Like some celestial form he moves along, 
 Ushered by Beauty, heralde'd with song ; 
 The sunshine floats around him like a vest , 
 He wears the day-star on his radiant breast; 
 And a voice warbles in the south wind's breath, 
 Wooing my weary soul the voice of Death ! 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 187 
 
 My wife ! my precious wife ! how well beloved, 
 Time, peril, pain have long and sternly proved ! 
 It comes the parting pang it comes apace ! 
 Turn not those tear-worn eyes upon my face, 
 Suing for leave to hope, it may not be ! 
 My God our God hath set the spirit free : 
 Yet bleeds my human heart, and ill can bear 
 Thy passive grief, thy calm and still despair ; 
 For many a night, albeit thou deem'dst me sleeping, 
 If elf thy silent agony of weeping. 
 
 Come, sit thee down beside me ; let me rest 
 My dying head upon thy gentle breast ; 
 Oh, yet a little longer ! hand in hand, 
 Before the sunny hills of Westmoreland, 
 Whose forms e'en now with heavenly visions blend, 
 Frostwick, and Rainsborough, and Ling-mell-end, 1 
 'Mid those dear haunts our careless childhood trod, 
 We pledg'd us to each other and to God. 
 Since then, submissive to his high decree, 
 " In perils of the desert and the sea, 
 
J88 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 In perils from the heathen," whom we strove 
 To win from idols to the Lord of love, 
 'Mid Afric's sands, as on our native heather, 
 We prayed and sang, rejoiced and wept together. 
 
 Such communing must cease ; a little while 
 Must I forego the sweetness of thy smile : 
 Immortal eyes shall beam on me ahove, 
 But not the eyes that taught me first to love : 
 Yet let those words thy widowed woe beguile, 
 Those Heaven-breathed words of hope, " A little while. 
 
 And, oh my Saviour, be the wish forgiven, 
 If I would ask one hour's delay of Heaven, 
 One hour forego that world of perfect bliss, 
 That I may cheer the lone one left in this ! 
 And grant me speech ; for mortal words in vain 
 Strive with the task to win those scenes again, 
 Which, calmly rising o'er the fever's strife, 
 Entranced in bliss my final hours of life : 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 189 
 
 God's latest grace to me would I transfer, 
 If he permit, my parting gift to her. 
 
 Have we not prayed, my Laura, have we not 
 Wove one fond wish with all our earthly lot ? 
 Have we not watched and studied, sought and striven, 
 To hail on earth the dawning reign of Heaven, 
 When Christ shall bid the world prepare his home, 
 Hallow his name, and mark his kingdom come ? 
 
 My soul goes back to those remembered hours, 
 When Spring was young in Kentmere's vale of flowers, 
 And we, with early hope and rapture rife, 
 Were hovering on the summer- tide of life : 
 How dreamed we of that Sun, whose rising sway 
 Shall thaw the winter of the world away, 
 Shall loose life's fountain on the eternal hills 
 To cheer the nations with its thousand rills, 
 Shall bid the thorn unwonted fruits disclose, 
 And the dry desert blossom as the rose ! 
 
 And once, bethink thee, when the mountain shower 
 Drove us for refuge to our favourite bower, 
 
190 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 Where the grey rowan, o'er the torrent bent, 
 Held graceful dalliance with the laughing Kent, 
 Didst thou not point me where the tempest fled, 
 Chased hard by sunshine over Mardale-head, 
 And, based on Ling-mell-end and Harter-fell, 
 A mighty rainbow strode across Nan-bell ? 2 
 
 " E'en thus," thou saidst, " though lingering doubts are 
 
 furled 
 
 O'er the bright mysteries of the further world, 
 Where the known present meets the things unseen, 
 Hope's radiant archway spans the space between." 
 'Tis well to live in hope ! but yesternight 
 E'en her fair bow dissolved in clearer light; 
 The shadows it illumed were cleft asunder, 
 And clear before me stretched that world of wonder. 
 
 Yet, ere I touch that bright prophetic theme, 
 I must find utterance for a sadder dream : 
 A dream ! but ah, the withering scenes it drew 
 Of mortal woe too present and too true ! 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 191 
 
 There came a Spirit to my side, and stood 
 As one deep wrapt in meditative mood, 
 Scanning my face ; his soft, gazelle-like eye 
 Was fixed on mine, and sadly, silently 
 O'erflowed with angel- tears ; his form and face 
 Were cast in mould of Afric's earlier race, 
 Or 3 like the graceful shapes that flit e'en now 
 O'er Amakosan plains and Stormberg's brow, 
 Haunting the hills that in their bosoms keep 
 The golden fountains of the young Gareep. 4 
 
 " 'Tis ever thus," he sighed, " 'tis Afric's doom 
 To find her generous friends an early tomb ! 
 Yes, one by one, they came; they came, like thee, 
 From yon fair island of the Western sea, 
 From their green homes that smile beside 5 the Rhine, 
 To reap the guerdon of a death like thine ! 
 How long, oh Lord, how long ! For many an age 
 I wander o'er my desolate heritage : 
 I waft to Thee the deep and general cry 
 From all its dark abodes of cruelty, 
 
193 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 From the foul Fetish 6 in the lonely wood, 
 The demon-altars red with native blood, 
 The human freightage, won by Christian gold, 
 And crushed and festering in the slave-ship's hold, 
 From each and all I waft the blended groan, 
 And bid it plead for mercy at thy throne : 
 Oh, still in vain ! still Mercy's gate is barred : 
 There comes no voice no answer no regard !" 
 He spake, and vanished ; and I strove in vain 
 To rid my memory of his piteous strain : 
 My brain grew fevered ; sights and sounds of fear 
 Glared on my eye, and thrilled my startled ear ; 
 All was confusion, laughter, scream, and yell, 
 Wild fiendish forms, the progeny of hell; 
 Anon a viewless arm was round me thrown, 
 Which hurried me away, and set me down 
 In a drear forest, where a shrine was placed, 
 Bedecked with quaint barbarity of taste ; 
 And, on his throne of sculls exalted high, 
 Some monster of obscene idolatry. 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 193 
 
 I saw a swarthy chieftain lead his hoy, 
 
 A noble stripling, full of life and joy, 
 
 And, " kneel, my son," he cried, " nor lift thine eyes, 
 
 Lest thou disturb thy father's sacrifice !" 
 
 He knelt ; and thus the sire his suit preferred, 
 
 While my soul shuddered at the vows I heard : 
 
 " I sue for vengeance : O my God, accord 
 Strength to my bow and sharpness to my sword ! 
 7 Like fell hysena may I quest my food, 
 Bound on the foe, and laugh, and lap his blood ; 
 Smite down the warrior, pierce the mother's heart, 
 And drive the children to the Christian's mart : 
 They shall be his, his more accomplished skill 
 In torture's arts shall work my wildest will. 
 Hear me, dread demon ! lo, I bring my son 
 To buy thine aid, my child, mine only one ! 
 Take him, and grant revenge !" the stripling's eye 
 Just caught the uplifted axe one short shrill cry ! 
 And one stern crushing blow ! The rite was sped ; 
 Rolled gasping in the dust the severed head ; 
 
194 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 Whence, when I gazed again, 'twas raised, and bound 
 By its black locks the idol's neck around ; 
 And down his breast the life-drops' crimson rain 
 Freshened the hue of many a former stain. 
 
 Alas, how foul in every dark recess, 
 How desperate in its native wickedness 
 Is man's lost soul ! From Lybia's blasted earth 
 Full many a doleful creature draws its birth ; 
 But search the tiger's lair, the lion's den, 
 Drag forth the poisonous monsters of the fen, 
 Bid wood and hill and desert bring their worst, 
 And still, above them all, sublimely curst, 
 The foulest, fellest of the savage clan 
 Erects the brow, and wields the mind of man ! 
 
 I am not raving, Laura ; nay, dear love, 
 It was some missioned spirit from above 
 That led me through the gloom, and shewed me things 
 Passing e'en fever's wild imaginings ; 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 195 
 
 Real, awful things, that solemnly reveal 
 
 The worth of human wisdom, human zeal, 
 
 When matched with human crime. We might despair, 
 
 Were there not one resource, the silent strength of prayer. 
 
 Bear with me yet awhile ; nor deem it strange, 
 That o'er such themes I bid my memory range. 
 As some glad traveller, who at evening's close 
 Basks in bright regions of serene repose, 
 Recounts the forms of ruin and of wrath 
 That frowned incumbent on his earlier path, 
 Striving, by contrast with the past, to throw 
 O'er present bliss a livelier, mellower glow ; 
 E'en thus I bid those visioned horrors rise, 
 To lend a keener rapture to surprise, 
 When the changed scene shall roll its clouds away, 
 And greet the sunburst of millennial day. 
 
 I saw that childless warrior once again, 
 Brooding like vulture o'er a pile of slain : 
 
 o 2 
 
196 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 His prayer was heard ! his red eye flashed with joy, 
 
 As though the sight repaid him for his boy ; 
 
 It seemed the haunting demon of his breast 
 
 Had drunk his fill of blood, and was at rest. 
 
 Listless he watched a mixed and motley crowd 
 
 Plying its various toil with clamour loud ; 
 
 Some stripped the ghastly dead ; some reared the pyre, 
 
 While children danced around the roaring fire. 
 
 8 That was no funeral rite : a feast was drest ! 
 
 And cannibals caroused ! Let silence veil the rest. 
 
 The vision changed ! Beside a galley's mast 
 I leaned, and wooed the freshness of the blast ; 
 And watch'd the sunbeams, with the waves at play, 
 Braid their bright dance o'er Benin's purple bay ; 
 The shore grew dim behind, and far a-lee 
 Heaved the broad bosom of the boundless sea ; 
 Aloft the careless sailor's merry song 
 Cheered his brave vessel as she skimmed along : 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 197 
 
 But mine was silent joy, a dreamy feeling 
 
 Of peace, along the vacant spirit stealing. 
 
 A shock aroused me : on mine ear was thrown, 
 
 Breathed from beneath, a low and stifled moan. 
 
 ' Sure 'twas delusion ! 'twas the the wind that gave 
 
 A deeper murmur ! 'twas the booming wave !' 
 
 But, hark, once more ! alas, too sadly plain 
 
 It tells its source, the cry of human pain ! 
 
 I 9 sought the hatchway : all below was night, 
 
 And long I tasked in vain mine aching sight : 
 
 Up rose a noisome vapour, like the breath 
 
 That issues from the charneljaws of Death. 
 
 At length the dimness cleared, and on my view 
 
 Slowly the den's infernal secrets grew ; 
 
 Condensed into one loathsome mass was rolled 
 
 The living cargo of that dungeon-hold ! 
 
 Living ? The dead were there ! I quailed to trace 
 
 The sunken features of some stiff, still face, 
 
 Wedged in with living heads. They raised no shriek, 
 
 For clamorous grief too wretched and too weak : 
 
198 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 But, ever and anon, that feeble moan 
 Seemed breathed to reach the ear of God alone 
 Or with yet sadder plaint arose on high 
 The thin small voice of suffering infancy. 
 
 My God, how long the champion of the slave 
 To British ears that tale of horror gave ! 
 How long, though Justice o'er her votary hung, 
 And Mercy melted on his silver tongue, 
 Did sordid Interest waft th' appeal aside, 
 And guilty Caution tremble to decide, 
 And sentimental statesmen sigh to hear, 
 Applaud the pleader, but refuse his prayer ! 
 Yet, had those arbiters of human right 
 Caught but one glimpse of that appalling sight, 
 Might but that moan have thrilled upon the ear 
 Of venal senator and slumbering peer, 
 One moment would have snapped the accursed chain, 
 Made Afric free, and Albion pure again. 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 199 
 
 Yet must it come, my Country ! O'er the deep 
 Of future time impervious shadows sleep ; 
 But now, e'en now, the dawning's early tinge 
 Hath edged the massy cloud with silver fringe : 
 Thyself hast hailed upon thy watch-tower grey 
 The rosy foot-prints of the coming Day ; 
 And taught the stormy breezes of the north 
 To bear glad tidings to the nations forth. 
 Thy voice hath travelled o'er the Atlantic wave, 
 Proclaiming tardy justice to the slave : 
 Thy children scatter wide the bread of Heaven, 
 And freely give what God hath freely given : 
 Experienced manhood and adventurous youth, 
 Wisdom and courage plead the cause of Truth : 
 Pale Greenland hears amid her waste of snow, 
 And sudden smiles unbend her hoary brow : 
 The Western world of woods, so silent long, 
 Claps 10 its glad hands, and peals the choral song : 
 Eastward 11 old Ganga's far resounding flood 
 Kolls its broad billows to the praise of God ; 
 
200 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 And more than natural beauty blooms and smiles 
 Where breathes the south upon Pacific isles. 
 
 And thou, sad land, must thou alone despair ? 
 Is heaven for ever shut 'gainst Afric's prayer ? 
 Shall Shem and Japhet glory in the Lamb, 
 And 12 not one blessing for the house of Ham ? 
 Must thou alone be cursed with endless dearth, 
 'Mid all the greenness and the glow of earth ? 
 Still must it prove a vain and thankless toil, 
 To tame the desert of thy moral soil ? 
 Are there no drops of heaven- descending dew 
 For thirsty Zaharak 13 and dun Karroo ? 
 Must those, who came to comfort and to warn, 
 Flee from the ravage of some new Dingarn ? 14 
 Must lone Lukeri to his mountains dim 
 Mourn the lost echoes of Sicana's 15 hymn ; 
 And Christian warriors sink a helpless prey 
 To the pale fiend that haunts the Lion's 16 Bay ? 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 201 
 
 I marvel not those midnight visions drear 
 Made faith recoil before the shock of fear ; 
 I marvel not, when fever racked the brain, 
 And death crept slowly through each curdling vein, 
 That watchful demons, at such evil hour, 
 Plied their last vantage with unwonted power. 
 
 Yet 'twas a passing conflict ! comfort came 
 Ere faith, found strength the promised aid to claim : 
 And sweet the moments, as I sank to rest, 
 Like wearied infant, on my Father's breast, 
 And heard his voice dispel each vain alarm, 
 And felt beneath his everlasting arm, 
 And saw, while rapture turned her glance above, 
 The air grow radiant with his smile of love. 
 
 And, at sweet intervals, there stole along 
 Slow, lulling cadences of Ghona 17 song; 
 Such as erst, mingling with the stock- dove's coo, 
 Sighed from the wild-wood glades of Camalu ; 
 Till, all unconsciously, the quiet stream 
 Of wakeful musings slid into a dream. 
 
ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 I dreamed that on some giant hill, whose brow 
 Wears amid tropic skies its crown of snow, 
 I stood : on high the heavens blazed forth unclouded, 
 And deep below the living world was shrouded : 
 For, glittering in the sun-like silver sheen, 
 A boundless sea of vapour slept between. 
 There stirred no breath along the stagnant air ; 
 No sound of sentient nature murmured there ! 
 Not he, who erst on Patmos' shore reclined, 
 Felt more completely severed from mankind, 
 Than I, as that cloud* girdled peak I trod, 
 Gazing on empty space, alone with God. 
 Nor he of Patmos, nor the Seer, who died 
 In dreams of extacy on Pisgah's side, 
 Saw aught more strangely beautiful, than there 
 Rose slowly from the nether depths of air. 
 
 At first I mused in solitude : anon 
 I heard behind a sweet and rapturous tone : 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 203 
 
 I knew the voice 'twas his who came and wept, 
 As by my couch his pensive watch he kept ; 
 Whom, as he told of Afric's woe and crime, 
 I guessed 18 the guardian Genius of her clime. 
 With lips apart, clasped hands and lifted eyes, 
 He stood, conversing with the gorgeous skies : 
 Then forward leaned him from the beetling brow, 
 And scanned and searched the shadowy gulf below ; 
 As though his eager glance had nearly won 
 Such 19 sights as angels bend to gaze upon. 
 
 " It comes !" he cried ; and suddenly a sound 
 Of mighty whirlwinds swept the blue profound. 
 How grand, how awful was the wild commotion, 
 
 As the wind grappled with that cloudy ocean ! 
 
 * 
 Down rushing on the silver sheeted plain, 
 
 It grasped its slumbering billows by the mane, 
 And dashed them, struggling in their idle wrath, 
 O'er cliff and peak in drifts of winnowed froth ; 
 And here and there some yawning fissure yields, 
 Far, far beyond, a glimpse of woods and fields, 
 
204 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 And towers and palaces, like those that sleep 
 With 20 the lost isle beneath the Indian deep. 
 
 But ill may words of mine essay to trace 
 The rapt expression of that angel face, 
 When first, emerging from the shifting scene, 
 He caught the distant landscape's smile of green. 
 Tossing his arms aloft, he shrilly cast 
 Snatches of music on the roaring blast, 
 As, with Eolian touch careering strong, 
 It swept the strings of passion into song. 
 
 Ride on, almighty Wind ! 
 
 Ride on, and leave behind 
 Thy dwelling in " the secret place of thunder !" 
 
 Ride on ! the shadows furled 
 
 Around the listening world 
 Wait but Thy touch to waft their folds asunder. 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 205 
 
 Lord of all power and might, 
 
 Let there again be light, 
 As when thou movedst o'er the darkling waters ! 
 
 Give to the Heaven's embrace 
 
 Earth's late-recovered race ! 
 Pour out the day -stream for her sons and daughters ! 
 
 Shout from the happy North 
 
 The song of freedom forth, 
 Like the roused music of the chainless billow ! 
 
 Breathe from the rose-lipped mouth 
 
 Of the soft whispering South 
 The strains of love that melt o'er childhood's pillow ! 
 
 Joy ! joy ! triumphant blast ! 
 
 The clouds are clearing fast, 
 Rolling abashed their broken ranks before thee ! 
 
 Joy ! joy ! thy charms expand, 
 
 My own, my cherish' d land, 
 Girdled with grace, and diadem'd with glory ! 
 
206 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 Ceased the wild notes ! no more through Ether rings 
 
 The stern vibration of the tempest's wings : 
 
 In deep and silent worship the intense, 
 
 Absorbing extacy of soul and sense, 
 
 We watched the change advance. High mountains first 
 
 From the dim shroud in massy grandeur burst : 
 
 Each after each upheaved their various forms, 
 
 From crowned Atlas 21 to the Cape 22 of storms ; 
 
 And, as the sun each hoary summit kissed, 
 
 Seemed isles of light amid the waves of mist. 
 
 A few brief thrilling moments, and the whole 
 Flung off its veil, and rushed upon the soul, 
 Whose gifted eye, with one wide- circling glance, 
 Undimmed by distance, drank the sight at once. 
 
 Earth hath her lovely pictures ; such as shine 
 For him, who from the pine-clad Appenine, 
 Looks eager forth the thousand charms to hail, 
 Where Arno lingers down his haunted vale ; 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 207 
 
 Or further south, where, yet more softly sweet, 
 
 Parthenope 23 lies basking at his feet ; 
 
 White domes, dark cliffs, and gem-like islets gay, 
 
 Chased in the enamel of her azure bay : 
 
 But, oh my Laura, when the smile of Heaven, 
 
 Long, long withheld, to this dear land was given, 
 
 Methought, it seemed exulting o'er the rest, 
 
 More brightly beautiful, more deeply blest; 
 
 The smile, that beam'd a Saviour's love to speak, 
 
 Called 24 Eden's blush to Lybia's swarthy cheek ! 
 
 Yes ! all in vain I sought, on either hand, 
 
 The scowling wilderness of lurid sand : 
 
 On Challahengah's 25 breast the roses grew, 
 
 And orange blossoms wreathed thy brows, Karroo : 
 
 And yon vast nameless waste, that frowned ere-while 
 
 West of the lonely fountains of the Nile, 
 
 Where silence sat, as age on age crept by, 
 
 Guarding the central shrine of mystery, 
 
 Now glow'd with life. The final woe was past ! 
 
 Returning Beauty claimed her home at last ! 
 
208 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 No livelier hues to Canaan's self were given, 
 When Canaan blooin'd the earthly type of Heaven, 
 Than now from Afric's features charmed away 
 The scars and sorrows of her darker day. 
 Belting 26 her mountains with umbrageous zone, 
 Towered up the forest-pride of Lebanon ; 
 And Sharon's breath perfum'd her fanning gales, 
 And Carmel bleated in her pastoral vales ; 
 The smoother uplands waved with groves of spice ; 
 The grape hung mantling o'er the precipice ; 
 'Mid olive bowers delighted childhood played ; 
 And love was musing 'neath his myrtle shade. 
 
 The Lord had walked the land : its withered sod 
 Burst forth in verdure, where his foot had trod. 
 He touched the rock, and, gushing at the stroke. 
 Down its rough sides the astonished waters broke : 
 They flung their rainbow sparkles to the light ; 
 And 27 sped them on their j oyous task, to write 
 His praise, in living characters imprest, 
 On the vast tablet of the desert's breast. 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 209 
 
 And as I marked old Niger's parted stream. 
 Like silver cross on Lybia's forehead gleam, 
 It seemed, methought, as though a hand divine 
 Had traced it there the bright baptismal sign. 
 So 28 Fancy dreamed ; but Keason's calmer eye 
 Caught a far ray from ancient prophecy ; 
 And saw the river lead, at God's command, 
 The promised highway through a pathless land. 
 Down its broad track a thousand sails unfurled 
 Wafted its golden treasures to the world ; 
 A thousand sails, up -thronging from the main, 
 Poured in earth's tributary wealth again : 
 Along its margin of perennial green 
 The smiling village graced the sylvan scene ; 
 Or, mirrored in its depths, some goodly town 
 Flung the far shadows of her mural crown : 
 Above the rest in marble grandeur grew 
 The royal palaces of Timbuctu. 
 And oh ! than all beside more purely fair, 
 " The temples of the living God " were there ! 
 
ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 Some, 'mid proud streets, in pillared pomp arose, 
 
 And some lay cradled in the wood's repose. 
 
 I saw the teeming city's countless crowd 
 
 Before the shrine in reverent homage bowed ; 
 
 I saw to every sweet, sequestered fane 
 
 The village pastor lead his simple train : 
 
 Their voices might not reach me ; hut I felt 
 
 My soul into the general fervour melt ; 
 
 I felt the binding charm each sense enthral, 
 
 " One Lord, one faith, one God and Sire of all !" 
 
 While he, my Spirit friend, beside me kneeling, 
 
 Poured forth in speech the o'erwhelming gush of feeling. 
 
 " Glory to God on high ! 
 
 The vast and dome-like sky 
 With ' thousand times ten thousand ' harps is ringing 
 
 Glory to God on earth ! 
 
 The voice of sacred mirth 
 From all her homes responsive joy is singing. 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 211 
 
 <( Peace 29 on the mountain's head 
 
 Her softening hues hath shed, 
 And sleeps becalm' d along the waveless ocean : 
 
 Peace o'er the meadow broods ; 
 
 And from the solemn woods 
 Wins the soft whisperings of their pure devotion. 
 
 " Peace 30 tames each beast of prey : 
 
 Gazelle and lion stray 
 In sportive bands along the purple heather ; 
 
 The infant's tiny grasp 
 
 Plays with the stingless asp, 
 And kine and bears repose in peace together. 
 
 " Peace in the human breast 
 
 Hath built her downy nest, 
 ' The peace of God that passeth understanding :' 
 
 Charming each passion still ; 
 
 Swaying the obedient will ; 
 Heightening each hope, and each delight expanding. 
 
ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 C( All hail, thou Prince of Peace ! 
 
 O'er earth and skies and seas 
 The golden sceptre of thy love extending ! 
 
 Hail ! to thy sapphire throne 
 
 A world, thyself hast won, 
 The general incense of its praise is sending ! 
 
 " When Asia sang thy name, 
 
 And Europe's glad acclaim 
 Roused the far West, in kindred strains replying ; 
 
 Missed not thine ear one tone 
 
 From him, the lost, the lone, 
 Sad Afric's child, amid his deserts dying ? 
 
 " It did ! 31 Thy Spirit hurned 
 
 To comfort all that mourned, 
 To preach glad tidings to the banished stranger, 
 
 To bid the slave be free, 
 
 The savage bow to Thee, 
 And bless his God, his Saviour, his Avenger. 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 213 
 
 " Thou 32 dost unveil thy face ; 
 
 The wild and lonely place 
 Breaks forth with joy, and strews thy path with roses : 
 
 Awaking at thy smile 
 
 From Ocean to the Nile, 
 Afric to Thee her buried stores uncloses. 
 
 " Gold, frankincense, and myrrh, 
 
 Such are thy gifts from her, 
 The token offerings of her willing capture : 
 
 Her myriad voices sweet 
 
 Earth's mighty choir complete, 
 The diapason of Creation's rapture !" 
 
 My strength is failing, Laura ! one by one, 
 Ebb the last sands of life : my task is done ; 
 And I have told thee all ! God gave me power 
 Surpassing Nature's at her parting hour. 
 Call them not idle dreams ! on dying eyes 
 Oft dawns a glimpse of bright realities, 
 
214 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT 
 
 Not else revealed. By God's unchanging word, 
 The peace and strength its promises afford, 
 "The sure and certain hope of life" that heams 
 Now in my spirit's depths, they are not dreams ! 
 
 I have not lived in vain ! albeit the spot, 
 Where I have dwelt and laboured, know me not ; 
 Though, far from the dear country of my birth, 
 I lay my mouldering dust in stranger earth ; 
 Though not one heart save thine, my gentle wife, 
 Keep trace or record of my lowly life ; 
 Yet Gcd accepts my service ; at his call 
 In cheerful faith, I gave my little all. 
 He sent me hither ; here I toiled to win 
 His word an entrance to this home of sin ; 
 I toiled to teach this dull and drowsy air 
 The sabbath melodies of praise and prayer : 
 And if, in after years, the seed I cast 
 In some lone bosom wake to life at last ; 
 
HER HANDS UNTO GOD. 2\ 5 
 
 If but one savage soul have caught from mine 
 
 The dormant principle of Life divine ; 
 
 Oh, I should deem my labour cheaply spent ! 
 
 Even in that hope I die I die content. 
 
 My own, to God I leave thee ! trust him still ! 
 
 He never failed thee and he never will. 
 
 And part not hence ! though, beckoning o'er the main, 
 
 Thy northern mountains woo their child again, 
 
 Where olden sympathies might haply wake, 
 
 And bid thee welcome for our fathers' sake, 
 
 Yet part not hence ! a thousand memories dear, 
 
 Thy husband's home thy husband's grave is here ; 
 
 Thou must fulfil his work : thy gentle rule 
 
 Must still keep order in his little school : 
 
 Still must thou toil, with patient zeal> to find 
 
 The buried treasures of the Negro's mind. 
 
 And that great God, who evermore doth seek 
 For mightiest task the lowly and the weak, 
 May crown thy hopes, accepting at thy hand 
 The first-ripe clusters of this barren land. 
 
216 ETHIOPIA STRETCHING OUT HER HANDS. 
 
 He may but should thy day descend in gloom, 
 Should nought but Faith attend thee to the tomb, 
 Is it not scrolled upon the leaves of fate, 
 God's high decree though mystery veils the date ? 
 Yes ! thou and I, 'mid Heaven's ambrosial bowers, 
 Her " thrones and principalities and powers," 
 Shall see, from yonder empyrean height, 
 The march of sunshine o'er the realm of Night, 
 Shall hear that shout by millions pealed abroad, 
 " The Morian'sland hath stretched her hands to God !' 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 Mountains in the vale of Kentmere. 
 
 2 Nanbell (Nant-bield) the mountain pass between Kentmere and 
 Mardale. 
 
 3 The tribe of Caffres, whose territory is now divided from the 
 Colony by the Keisi or Keiskamma, are in their own language desig- 
 nated the Amakosa, and their country Amakosina. 
 
 " The Caffre youth who stood beside this female, and who looked 
 like her younger brother, was truly a model of juvenile beauty : his 
 figure, which was almost entirely naked, displayed graceful ease and 
 great symmetry of proportion : his high broad forehead and hand- 
 some nose and mouth approached the European standard ; and the 
 mild yet manly expression of his full black eyes and ingenuous open 
 brow bespoke confidence and goodwill at first sight." Memoirs of 
 Pringle. 
 
 I was much struck with the strong resemblance that a group of 
 Caffres bear to the Greek and Etruscan antique remains ; except that 
 the savage drapery is more scanty, and falls in simpler folds. ROSE'S 
 " Four Years in Africa." 
 
 4 Gareep The Orange River. 
 
 5 The Moravian settlement at Neuwied, and the Missionary College 
 at Basle. 
 
218 NOTES. 
 
 6 The Fetish, a sacrifice or incantation at which human victims are 
 not unfrequently offered. 
 
 7 The Caffres believe that (under the influence of sorcery) men may 
 assume the shape and habits of the wolf and the hyaena, in order to 
 commit ravages upon those whom they dislike. This superstition re- 
 sembles in some respects that of the loup-garou of the dark ages. 
 Vide Ps. lix. 6. 
 
 8 Ptolemy mentions the ^Ethiopes Anthropophagi. Du FRESNOY'S 
 Geographia. 
 
 The tribes of Ansiko, called also Makoko, dwell to the north of the 
 province of Congo. Their king is one of the most powerful monarchs 
 in Africa, ruling ten kingdoms. These people are said to be can- 
 nibals ; their ordinary food being the flesh either of slaves or enemies. 
 REEs'b Cyclopedia. 
 
 9 No words can describe the misery inflicted upon the slaves during 
 the middle-passage. 
 
 In 1788 a law passed the British Legislature, by which it was pro- 
 vided that, in the transport of slaves, vessels under 150 tons should 
 not carry more than five men to every three tons that vessels above 
 150 tons should not carry more than three men to every two tons. 
 
 The Spanish Cedula of 1817 adopted the same scale. 
 
 The Carolina, captured in 1834 off Wydal, of only 75 tons burthen, 
 had three hundred and fifty negroes crowded on board of her. 
 
 The mortality, under such circumstances, is very great. Captain 
 Owen, in a communication with the Admiralty in 1823, says " that 
 the ships which use this traffic consider they make an excellent voyage 
 if they save one third of the number embarked. And," he adds, 
 " Some vessels are so fortunate as to save half of their cargo alive. 
 
 Captain Hammond of the Spartiate, in 1834, thus writes to the 
 British Consul at Monte Video : 
 
NOTES. 
 
 " A slave brig of 202 tons was brought into this port with five 
 hundred and twenty-one slaves on board. This vessel is said to have 
 cleared from Monte Video under a license to import six hundred and 
 fifty African colonists. The license to proceed to the coast of Africa 
 is accompanied by a curious document, purporting to be an application 
 from two Spaniards named Villaca and Barquez for permission to 
 import 650 colonists and 250 more to cover the deaths on the voyage." 
 
 BUXTON, on the Slave-trade. 
 
 10 " The mountains and the hills shall break forth before you into 
 singing ; and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands/' Isa.lv. 12. 
 
 11 The idea is translated from the first two stanzas of PRAED'S 
 Greek Ode, " on the death of Bishop Middleton." 
 
 Napdruv irdrep, j8a0u7rAoure Tdyya, 
 
 a/j.pas A.ax&z' areXevrov uvyav, 
 
 etifipoov lets 
 
 KVfJiMTODV K\v8oova" jSAeVcoi/ 8 s e's evpv 
 u>parc!> fj.e \a9pov oci TTOT' avpas 
 yapveis a i ya\x6fj.tvos peyuv TTO- 
 
 \vppo8ov V/J.VOV. 
 
 12 " Hast thou but one blessing, my father ? Bless me, even me 
 also, oh my father/' Gen. xxvii. 38. 
 
 13 " Zaharak, or Sahara, the desert, including the desert of Bilma 
 and that of Lybia : the Saharad is bounded on the north by Barbary ; 
 on the east by Egypt and Nubia ; on the south by Nigritia and Sene- 
 gambia, and on the west by the Atlantic. Between these boundaries 
 its length from east to west is 1,100 leagues ; and its mean breadth 
 from north to south 250 leagues. Ritter calculates its superficial ex- 
 tent at 50,000 German square miles. The plains of South Africa 
 
220 NOTES. 
 
 called Karroos, present a dreary listless uniformity of level surface, ex- 
 cept where broken by a few straggling hills of schist, which rise like 
 little volcanic cones out of a naked surface of clay, whose tinge is that 
 of a dull ferruginous brown." BELL'S Geography. 
 
 14 Dingarn or Dingan (the king of Zoolu) dispersed the Missionary 
 settlement attempted to be formed in the neighbourhood of Port 
 Natal. 
 
 15 Sicana, a secondary chief of the Caffres at the Kat river, was one 
 of the converts of the missionary Williams. He composed the first 
 Christian hymn in his native tongue. The following is a translation 
 by Dr. Wright, who studied the language in the native hamlet of the 
 Amakosa : 
 
 " Oh thou great mantle which envelopes us ! 
 
 Creator of the light which is formed in the heavens ; 
 
 Who framed and fashioned the heavens themselves ; 
 
 Who hurled forth the ever-twinkling stars ; 
 
 Oh ! thou mighty God of heaven, 
 
 Who whirlest round the stars, the Pleiades ! 
 
 In thy dwelling place on thee we call, 
 
 To be a leader and a guide to us ! 
 
 Oh thou who to the blind givest light, 
 
 Our great treasure, on thee we call ! 
 
 For Thou, oh Thou, art the true rock ! 
 
 Thou, oh Thou, art the true shield ! 
 
 Thou, oh Thou, art the true covert ! 
 
 On Thee, oh holy Lamb, we call, 
 
 Whose blood for us was sprinkled forth ; 
 
 Whose hands for us were pierced ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Oh be Thou a leader and a guide to us, 
 
 Creator of the light which is formed in the heavens ! 
 
 Who framed and fashioned the heavens themselves !" 
 
 16 The Lion's Bay (Sierra Leone), of which the pestilential climate 
 has proved so fatal to the European constitution. 
 
 17 The Ghona or Ghonaqua tribe formerly inhabited the country 
 between the Keisi and Camtoos rivers. Of those who have survived 
 the ravages of war the greater part have become incorporated with the 
 Gunuguebi tribe of Kaffres. Another remnant formerly resided on 
 the Kat river under the ministry of the missionary Williams. Camalu 
 is a glen at the source of the Kat river. Sicana's hymn sung by the 
 Ghonas of the Kat river is set to a plaintive native air. And the lan- 
 guage abounding in vowels is singularly adapted to such a strain. 
 
 18 Dan. x. 12, 13, 20, 21, contains a curious intimation on the sub- 
 ject of guardian angels presiding over the destinies of various nations. 
 The " Princes " of Persia, Grecia, and Judaea were evidently presid- 
 ing spirits. 
 
 19 Ets& firi6vp.ovffiv &yye\onrapaKinl/ai. 1 Pet. i. 12. 
 
 20 Mauri-ga-Sima, an island near Formosa, supposed to have been 
 sunk in the sea for the crimes of its inhabitants. The vases, &c. 
 which the fishermen and divers bring up from it are sold at an im- 
 mense price in China and Japan. KEMPFER. 
 
 21 " Crowned Atlas," scil. with snow. Leo Africanus derives the 
 general name of this chain from the Arabic "Atlis, snow." The 
 
 'Arabians, he says, call the Atlas, Djebel Attlis that is, the Snowy 
 mountain, 
 
 22 So called by Bartholomew Diaz, the first European navigator who 
 doubled it The name II Cabo Tormentoso was changed by John II. 
 of Portugal for the present name " The Cape of Good Hope." 
 
222 NOTES. 
 
 2j Naples. 
 
 24 " He will comfort all her waste places ; and He will make her 
 wilderness like Eden, and her desert like the garden of the Lord.'' 
 Isaiah li. 3. 
 
 25 The Desert of Kalleghanny or Challahengah, north of the Orange 
 River, and lying between the countries of the Bechuanas and Damaras, 
 is said to be for the most part entirely destitute of water, so that the 
 Bechuanas and Corannas in crossing it are forced to subsist on a 
 species of wild water melon, which grows abundantly on those arid 
 plains. THOMPSON'S Travels, Vol. II. 
 
 23 " The glory of Lebanon shall be given unto it ; the excellency of 
 Carmel and Sharon." Isaiah xxxv. 2. 
 
 27 There only lacks the single gift of water to make " the desert 
 rejoice, and blossom as the rose." In confirmation of this fact the 
 following beautiful passage is selected from Lichtenstein's Voyage to 
 the Cape ; where speaking of the great Karroo, he says, " As soon as 
 the rains begin to fall, and penetrate the hard coat of earth, these 
 fibres (of roots) imbibe the moisture, and pushing aside the clay, the 
 germ of the plant, under their protection, begins to shoot. As by suc- 
 cessive rains the soil gets more and more loosened, the plants at 
 length appear above it, and in a few days the void waste is covered 
 with a delicate green clothing. Not long after, thousands and thousands 
 of flowers enamel the whole surface : the mild mid-day sun expands 
 the radiated crowns of the mesembryanthemums and gortinia, and the 
 young green of the plants is almost hidden by the glowing colours of 
 their full-blown flowers, while the whole air is filled with the most fra- 
 grant odour. At this time the whole dreary desert is transformed into 
 one continued garden of flowers ; the colonist, with his herds and 
 flocks, leaves the snowy mountains, and, descending into the plain 
 
NOTES. 223 
 
 there finds a plentiful and wholesome supply of food for the animals, 
 while troops of the tall ostrich, and the wandering antelope, driven 
 also from the heights, share the repast, and enliven the scene. But 
 how soon is the country again deprived of all its glory ! It scarcely 
 continues more than a month. As the days begin to lengthen, the 
 revived power of the mid-day sun checks once more the lately awakened 
 powers of vegetation. Soon the streams begin to dry, the springs 
 scarcely flow, till at length the complete drought compels the colonists 
 to seek again their more elevated homes. Every day the Karroo grows 
 more and more solitary, and by the end of September it is wholly de- 
 serted. The hardened clay bursts into a thousand cracks, which 
 evince to the traveller the vast power of the African sun. Every trace 
 of verdure is vanished, and the hard red soil is covered over with a 
 brown dust, formed from the ashes of the dried and withered plants." 
 
 28 The River Niger presents nearly a cruciform appearance where 
 the Quorra that flows from the Kong mountains, as well as the Tchadda 
 which flows from the opposite quarter, make their confluence with the 
 main river. 
 
 The discoveries and sanguine anticipations of Messrs. Laird and 
 Oldfield recal to mind the words of prophecy, Isai. xliii. 19. "Be- 
 hold, I will do a new thing ; now it shall spring forth : . . . I will 
 even make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert." 
 
 39 " Thou crownest the year with thy goodness, and thy paths drop 
 fatness. They drop upon the pastures of the wilderness, and the little 
 hills rejoice on every side." Ps. Ixv. 11, 12. 
 
 30 " And the cow and the bear shall feed ; their young ones shall 
 lie down together, and the lion shall eat straw like the ox. And the 
 
 sucking child shall play on the hole of the asp They shall not 
 
 hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain." Isai. xi. 7 9- 
 
224 NOTES. 
 
 31 " He hath sent me to bind up the broken-hearted ; to proclaim 
 liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them that are 
 bound to comfort all that mourn. 5 ' Isai. Ixi. 1, 2. 
 
 32 " The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them ; 
 and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose." Isai. xxxv. 1. 
 
THE 
 
 MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PRI&E 
 IN THE YEAR 1840. 
 
THE 
 
 MINISTRY OF ANGELS 
 
 PAKT I. 
 
 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS AS IT WAS, 
 
 " When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God 
 shouted for joy." 
 
 JOB xxxviii. 7 
 
 I. 
 IT was but a whisper of heavenly grace ; 
 
 Yet fast it sped and far : 
 Down from the high and holy place, 
 And away to the outermost realms of space, 
 It travelled from star to star. 
 
 Q 2 
 
228 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 There be FOUR 1 standing by the throne, 
 
 Nearest of living things ; 
 Within the rim of the 2 rainbow zone, 
 They catch its emerald tints upon 
 
 The snow of their folded wings ; 
 And bowed was every glorious head, 
 As silently they worshipped ; 
 But, oh ! that silent worship said 
 
 Unutterable things. 3 
 For from the wall of dazzling light, 
 Impervious e'en to angel-sight, 
 That circles round the place of doom, 
 Jehovah's secret council-room, 
 Where sit the co-eternal THREE 
 In conclave upon things to be, 
 A whisper of some mighty plan 
 Passed outward, 4 " Let us fashion man 
 In our own image : let him bear 
 Our likeness, and its glory share ; 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 229 
 
 And wield o'er earth, his fair abode, 
 The delegated power of God." 
 Then followed intimations dim, 
 Whereof the four-fold Cherubim 
 Divined but little, save a strange 
 Accent of melancholy change, 
 Words that for angel's tongue unmeet 
 They might not venture to repeat : 
 But far away through ether ran 
 The rumour, " Let us fashion man." 
 In widening circles of sweet sound, 
 It swept heaven's infinite profound : 
 Like a summer wave, whose motion 
 Heaves, but doth not break, the ocean ; 
 Whispering, with the gentlest kiss, 
 As it passed each isle of bliss, 
 To the happy shores of these 
 Heaven-engirdled Cyclades. 
 
230 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 II. 
 
 A 5 veil of silver vapour lies 
 
 Upon the new- created earth, 
 
 As if to hide from curious eyes 
 
 The secrets of some mystic birth : 
 
 Upon the pale and tranquil sky 
 
 The hills stand gazing stedfastly ; 
 
 While, buried in the filmy wreath, 
 
 The silent woodland glooms beneath. 
 
 It is the hush of expectation 
 
 That stops the pulses of creation ; 
 
 Not a breath, not a motion in earth or air ; 
 
 For the Spirit of God is brooding there. 
 
 But lo ! the mountain- peaks give warning 
 
 They have seen the face of morning ; 
 
 Tinting first the cones of ice, 
 
 Then, by crag and precipice, 
 
 Downward streams the flood of splendour, 
 
 With its hues so warm and tender : 
 
THE MINISTRY OF. ANGELS. 231 
 
 Now, like smoke, the mists arise, 
 
 Breathed from some great sacrifice, 
 
 Wafting up from Eden's bowers 
 
 The thanksgivings of her flowers : 
 
 From the depths of quiet valleys, 
 
 Gardened plains and leafy alleys, 
 
 With its quire of happy voices, 
 
 Nature wakens, and rejoices : 
 
 Earth aside her mantle throws, 
 
 And in primal heauty glows. 
 
 With toilsome steps, through paths of danger, 
 
 I have wooed the rover's wild delight ; 
 Hunting for scenes of beauty and grandeur, 
 
 And spell-bound, as they rose to sight : 
 But never, not e'en in childhood's time, 
 
 When the common face of earth and sky 
 Caught from the spirit's glowing prime 
 
 A charm beyond reality, 
 Never did sinful man behold 
 
 Such scene as blest angelic eyes, 
 
232 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 When morn the mists asunder roll'd, 
 And light broke in on Paradise. 
 
 in. 
 Yet from the soulless face of nature 
 
 Those heavenly watchers turned, to scan, 
 In one supremely beauteous creature, 
 
 God's last- created marvel, Man. 
 As just awakened from a trance, 
 
 He stood amid earth's tribes alone, 
 And on his brow's serene expanse 
 
 The seal of sovereign Godhead shone : 
 Amazement, chastened by control 
 
 Of conscious power, his features flushed, 
 As, through the eye, upon the soul 
 
 At once the world of vision rushed. 
 The genial landscape basked before him ; 
 
 The glorious sunshine blazed above ; 
 It seemed the firmament bent o'er him, 
 
 To clasp him and his realm in love. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 233 
 
 At length, as from the shock of wonder 
 
 His spirit had regained its tone, 
 He sought, with closer gaze, to ponder 
 
 On beauty's features, one by one. 
 He felt the texture of the grass ; 
 
 Inhaled the fragrance of the blossom ; 
 And watched the lights and shadows pass 
 
 O'er the green upland's swelling bosom ; 
 He touched the dew-drop, as it hung, 
 
 And started, as it burst from sight, 
 Half fearful of inflicted wrong 
 
 Upon the tiny globe of light. 
 Then, while with wistful eye he gazed 
 
 At families of living things, 
 That through the verdant meadows grazed, 
 
 Or fanned the fragrant air with wings, 
 And, in the stream's clear crystal, saw 
 
 The glittering fish together swim, 
 He marvelled much that nature's law 
 
 Had given no kindred friend to him : 
 
234 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 A shadowy likeness walked beside him, 
 Along his path in silence stealing; 
 
 But still the impassive form denied him 
 All token of congenial feeling. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus musing on, he gained a nook 
 
 Deep in the garden's inmost bowers, 
 Through which a little lulling brook 
 
 Kept prattling to the grass and flowers ; 
 And cool and green the light came in, 
 
 Winnowed through countless leaves above, 
 From which the breeze could rarely win 
 
 A whisper, to reward its love : 
 Bland invitation to repose ! 
 
 Sweet languor o'er his senses crept ; 
 He felt the shadows round him close, 
 
 And in the lap of peace he slept ; 
 He 6 slept, and dreamed, a blessed dream ; 
 
 Blue vernal eyes and sunny hair ! 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 235 
 
 A form that like his own did seem, 
 
 But far more purely fair ! 
 It called on him, a silver sound, 
 
 Trustful and tender, thrilled his ear ; 
 It called; he started from the ground, 
 
 Awoke, and found it there ! 
 " Woman !" it was the first sweet word, 
 
 That ever from his lips had parted ; 
 No ear, till then, his voice had heard, 
 
 He felt so lonely-hearted. 
 Meekly her master's gaze she met, 
 
 And to her cheeks the colour came ; 
 Blushes of beauty, for, as yet, 
 
 They knew no blush of shame. 
 Oh, language hath not skill to tell 
 
 The thoughts that in their bosoms strove, 
 As, 'tranced by one absorbing spell, 
 
 They felt the new-born might of love : 
 Not the idolatry of sense, 
 
 That holds in carnal hearts abode ; 
 
.236 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 But pure, serene, sublime, intense, 
 
 It rapt their wedded souls to God. 
 Instinctively they sought the light ; 
 
 As though beneath heaven's open eye 
 They deemed it fitting to unite 
 
 Their homage to their Sire on high. 
 He, with his glorious brow upraised, 
 
 Adored the author of his bliss ; 
 As conscious that the God he praised 
 
 Gave back responsive smiles to his. 
 She, with her graceful head depressed, 
 
 And arm across his shoulders thrown ; 
 While, like a veil, o'er face and breast 
 
 Drooped the rich, radiant tresses down. 
 
 v. 
 A moment o'er that blissful sight 
 
 Hosts of admiring angels hung ; 
 The passion of a new delight 
 
 Struck voiceless each immortal tongue 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 237 
 
 Then sudden, o'er the blue expanse, 
 Millions of sparkles seemed to glance ; 
 And, loosed on every side at once, 
 With multitudinous response 
 
 All heaven burst forth in song. 
 
 " Hail ! hail ! hail ! 
 Welcome to your realm of beauty ! 
 
 Welcome to your blest abode ! 
 Thus, with mingled love and duty, 
 
 We, the elder sons of God, 
 Join our voices to salute ye, 
 
 Pour our echoing strains abroad : 
 Now let triumph ride the gale ; 
 Peace and joy and praise prevail ! 
 It is finished ! hail ! all-hail ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Finished is 'the six- days' wonder ! 
 
 Since Jehovah's voice of might, 
 From the secret place of thunder, 
 
 Spake the word, and there was light, 
 
238 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 We have watched the glad returning 
 
 Of the day-star to the earth, 
 From the chamher of the morning 
 
 Marching 7 like a hridegroom forth ; 
 We have watched the grand progression 
 
 Of the changes, as they passed, 
 Through each beautiful succession : 
 
 Ye the loveliest ! ye the last ! 
 'Tis the sabbath of creation ! 
 
 God upon his throne doth rest ; 
 And his smile of approbation 
 
 All his perfect work hath blest. 
 Of the mighty lyre of nature 
 
 Harmonized is every chord ; 
 And the least and loftiest creature 
 
 Breathes thanksgiving to the Lord. 
 Ye, in whom the beauty liveth, 
 
 We have longed and watched to view, 
 Praise with us the God who giveth 
 
 You to us, and us to you : 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 239 
 
 For ye, for ye have a soul like ours ; 
 
 It heaves in your bosom, it beams thro' your eye, 
 Baptized in the feelings, endowed with the powers 
 
 That burn through the depth of eternity. 
 And happy are we, unto whom 'tis given 
 
 To tend you as guardians, and cheer you as friends ; 
 Happy to speed from our homes in heaven, 
 
 And carry the blessings your Father sends. 
 
 VII. 
 
 " We will encamp around by night, 
 
 Your holy rest to keep ; 
 Like the hills that watch, in shadowy might, 
 
 Bound the lake so pure and deep, 
 Which, dreaming of distant worlds of light, 
 
 Lies locked in their arms asleep. 
 And, as that stiJl lake awakes and rejoices, 
 
 When Zephyr his playmates hath found, 
 That dance to shore with their liquid voices 
 
 Telling their joy around ; 
 
240 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 So ye shall awake, at our gentle call, 
 
 From your pillow of fern and heather ; 
 And we'll sing to the God, and the Father of all 
 
 Our matin praise together. 
 When past the freshness of the dawning, 
 
 And spent the spirits of the breeze ; 
 When fiery noon comes down, embrowning 
 
 The slippery turf beneath the trees, 
 Our wings shall interweave an awning 
 
 Of cooler shade than these. 
 And when the sapphire gates of even 
 
 Open to realms beyond ; 
 When earth to the embrace of heaven 
 
 Doth glowingly respond ; 
 When sweet and slumbrous melodies 
 
 O'er land and water creep, 
 As Nature sits, with half- shut eyes, 
 
 Singing herself to sleep ; 
 Ye shall catch the gleam of our golden hair 
 
 In the wake of the sinking sun ; 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 241 
 
 And we'll wander on earth, or hover in air, 
 
 With our robes of glory on, 
 And those, whose mission with day-light closes, 
 
 As homeward they hie them fast, 
 Shall leave you a chaplet of heaven's own roses 
 
 On the mountain they touched the last. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 " Yet not to the animal taste alone 
 
 Is our office of love confined ; 
 We will minister pleasures of loftier tone 
 
 To the subtler sense of mind. 
 In the beauty that woos the eye around, 
 
 In the music that haunts the ear, 
 Ye shall feel a presence more profound 
 
 Than aught that ye see and hear. 
 A voice from the ocean's world of wonder, 
 
 From the mountain's crest elate, 
 From the rushing wind, from the rolling thunder, 
 
 Announces ' GOD is GREAT.' 
 
 R 
 
242 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 Where, in the forest's lonely place, 
 
 The fountain dwells secure, 
 With smiles upon its dimpled face, 
 
 It tells you ' GOD is PURE/ 
 The humhlest flower, the tiniest creature 
 
 That creeps, or swims, or flies, 
 Joins with the mightier forms of nature 
 
 To attest that ' GOD TS WISE.' 
 The blessing with the sunshine given 
 
 Wakes joy in field and grove ; 
 Heaven speaks to earth, and earth to heaven 
 
 Makes answer ' GOD is LOVE !' 
 Thus, borrowing from material things 
 
 A token and a tone, 
 We'll teach of love, whose secret springs 
 
 God sees, and God alone. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " And would ye know what deeds are done 
 In other worlds afar, 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 243 
 
 And call down teachers many a one 
 
 From planet and from star; 
 Delightful task, to single out 
 
 Some twinkling point of light 
 From all the diamonds wreathed ahout 
 
 The coronal of night ; 
 And draw you of its scenery 
 
 A landscape grand and strange ; 
 And trace through all its history 
 
 The wondrous path of change ! 
 
 x. 
 ** Yet there he vast and dim dominions, 
 
 Ocean without a shore, 
 Which not the boldest angel-pinions 
 
 Have ventured to explore : 
 And there he mysteries fathomless, 
 
 Wrought in a realm of fire, 
 Whereat the Cherubim may guess, 
 
 But have not dared enquire. 
 
 R 2 
 
244 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 One thing we know, that, ages back, 
 
 Before your earth was made, 
 There rose a cloud, so densely black, 
 
 It cast e'en heaven in shade : 
 That darkness passed, and light on high 
 
 Again serenely shone ; 
 But, when we looked along the sky, 
 
 Ten thousand stars were gone ! 
 Again the angel-watch was set 
 
 The eternal gates before, 
 But many a face, we there had met, 
 
 We met again no more ! 
 God 8 o'er their fate a veil hath spread, 
 
 Nor further may we win, 
 Save of its cause a rumour dread, 
 
 That sighed the name of sin. 
 God guard us safe from aught of ill 
 
 In knowledge or in deed ! 
 To know his love, to do his will, 
 
 We ask no higher meed. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS 245 
 
 May nought avert the blessing given 
 
 His creatures at their birth ; 
 Disturb the harmonies of heaven, 
 
 Or mar the peace of earth 1" 
 
246 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS AS IT IS. 
 
 Thus after man had fallen (if aught 
 These perishable spheres have wrought 
 
 May with such issue be compared) 
 Throngs of celestial visages, 
 Darkening, like water in the breeze, 
 An holy sadness shared. 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 
 " The Eclipse of the Sun, 1820." 
 
 I. 
 
 AND must the minstrel change his theme, 
 And waken memory from a dream 
 
 Of bliss so passing sweet ; 
 And seal the ear, and close the eye 
 To songs and scenes of days gone by, 
 The stern and sad reality 
 
 Of present life to greet ? 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 247 
 
 Alas, it ill beseemeth one, 
 
 Whose primal innocence is gone, 
 
 To speak of nature or of man, 
 
 Before the curse its reign began ! 
 
 How can I frame my lay aright, 
 
 To tell of majesty and might, 
 
 Glory and beauty and delight ? 
 
 I never gazed on Eden's mountains, 
 
 Nor drank of her life-giving fountains ; 
 
 Nor heard her music soft or strong, 
 
 As happiness flowed forth in song : 
 
 Beauty or joy unmarred by guilt 
 
 I never saw, I never felt. 
 
 The very flowers, that meet my eye, 
 
 Just look me in the face and die : 
 
 And I have watched, with aching bosom, 
 
 The withering of a dearer blossom, 
 
 And could not turn the stroke away, 
 
 Nor bribe the spoiler for delay ; 
 
 Yea, when I looked to Heaven in prayer, 
 
 I saw the doom was written there : 
 
248 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 And I have seen the mental spark 
 
 Go out, and leave its chamher dark. 
 
 Each living creature, that hath breath, 
 
 Groaneth with pain and travaileth ; 
 
 And every day, and all day long, 
 
 The voice of suffering and of wrong 
 Cries from without, or whispers from within, 
 " Sin came into the world, and death by sin !" 
 
 n. 
 
 Forgive, forgive me, oh my God, if aught 
 Savour of bitterness in word or thought ! 
 But, oh ! to think pf all that glory past, 
 Life's morning hour so bright, so soon o'ercast ;- 
 To think for what fond man, seduced to crime, 
 Forswore the promise of his golden prime, 
 Of all that fatal act of rashness cost, 
 The beauty blighted, and the birthright lost, 
 And mingled stains of human blood and tears, 
 Fouling the current of six thousand years : 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 249 
 
 And most, whene'er I gaze at childhood's face, 
 
 Eager to start on life's eventful race, 
 
 And think how soon those prattlers must begin 
 
 To taste their heir-loom of primeval sin, 
 
 And track the path not yet to softness worn, 
 
 And bear the burthen which their sires have borne, 
 
 And drop at last from off the busy stage, 
 
 Shrivelled and grey, but more with care than age ; 
 
 This makes the passion of my grief grow strong ; 
 
 And, God forgive me, if my words be wrong ! 
 
 For though his Cherubim, with fiery sword, 
 Deny man entrance, where he once was lord ; 
 Though lost to innocence and honour both, 
 " To trouble born," and " crushed before the moth," 
 Fain would I learn to act my altered part, 
 In uncomplaining brokenness of heart ; 
 I lay my guilty forehead in the dust, 
 And own, albeit He slay me, God is just. 
 Yea, God is merciful ! He hath not hurled 
 Back into chaos a polluted world : 
 
250 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 On man, how fallen and how frail soe'er, 
 
 He bends no frown of majesty severe ; 
 
 But grants him strength with present ills to cope, 
 
 And cheers him homeward with the voice of hope. 
 
 Thus while I smart heneath the chastening rod, 
 
 I bless the smiter : He is still my God ! 
 
 in. 
 
 Ye too, bright Spirits, who, when time began, 
 In choral concert hymned the birth of man ! 
 Say, cast ye not from your unfaded bowers 
 A look of pity on the wreck of ours ? 
 Doth ancient friendship plead her rights in vain ? 
 God hath remitted ! say, can ye retain ? 
 Ah no ! when first the fatal news was told, 
 Astonished seraphs dropped their harps of gold ; 
 Faltered the music on celestial lips, 
 And starry eyes were veiled in sad eclipse ; 
 Dreading the outbreak of avenging power, 
 All 9 Heaven was mute, " the space of half an hour. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 251 
 
 It came ! but not upon the lightning's flash ; 
 
 Not in the rending earthquake's hideous crash ; 
 
 Not with the rush of whirlwinds ; oh, rejoice ! 
 
 There must be mercy in that " still small voice !" 
 
 A few brief words reversed the deadly ban, 
 
 " God 10 will be just, and yet keep peace with man." 
 
 Few words they were and brief, but never sound 
 
 So thrilled the immortal listeners, thronged around : 
 
 For awful meanings dimly were revealed, 
 
 And ancient mystery her scroll unsealed ; 
 
 And, like the shadowy pageant of a. dream, 
 
 Came forth the features of some wondrous scheme ; 
 
 And a low groan-like utterance, from beneath, 
 
 In strange connexion spake of God and Death. 
 
 Long ages rolled away, while angels bent 
 
 Down from their spheres, to watch the grand event : 
 
 In cloudy type and mythic prophecy, 
 
 They marked the dawning streak the eastern sky ; 
 
 And, as the Spirit spake by sage or seer, 
 
 Seraphic minstrels hushed their harps to hear. 
 
252 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 And, oh ! 'twere vain to guess what angels felt, 
 When by the godlike infant's couch they knelt ;- 
 Saw the Creator roam the world he made, 
 By foes insulted and by friends betrayed ; 
 Blotted the daylight from the noontide sky, 
 And dared not see the Lord of glory die : 
 Then hailed the conqueror of the rifled tomb, 
 And swelled his triumph as they bore him home. 
 Of such I sing not, reverencing from far 
 The theme, a Milton did but touch to mar. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Enough to simple bard is given, 
 Who knows that all the host of heaven, 
 Her Cherubim and Seraphim, 
 Are messengers of love to him ; 
 That those, who ministered relief 
 To yon mysterious Man of grief, 
 Frequent 11 and hallow the abode, 
 Where dwells the lowliest child of God. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 Enough for one, who strays along, 
 
 Shunning the tumult and the throng, 
 
 From scenes with tender interest rife, 
 
 That haunt the private lanes of life, 
 
 From what an inward sense reveals, 
 
 From all he fancies, or he feels, 
 
 To glean, with heedful heart and eyes, 
 
 Hints of angelic sympathies. 
 
 Oh yes ! methinks, we little know 
 
 What to such sympathies we owe ; 
 
 Through what a scale of truth sublime 
 
 They help the darkling mind to climh. 
 
 Did Newton, with unaided sight, 
 
 Walk through the starry realms of light ? 
 
 Franklin, hy prowess all his own, 
 
 Summon the ohedient lightning down ? 
 
 Did Bacon teach himself to scan 
 
 The volume of the mind of man ? 
 
 Did all the wisdom of the wise 
 
 Detect the subtle strength, that lies 
 
 In nature's secret alchymies ? 
 
254 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 Nay ! let the sophist, proudly blind, 
 Prate of the attributes of mind, 
 And vaunt to each his proper claim, 
 Heedless of whence or how they came ; 
 A sense of impotence and need 
 Finds comfort in an humbler creed ; 
 And holds, as heaven-revealed truth, 
 That, from the earliest dawn of youth, 
 Through every stage, that lies between 
 The opening and the closing scene, 
 Some 12 blessed spirit, at our side, 
 Doth strengthen, solace, guard, and guide 
 The eye beholds it not, the ear 
 Reports not of its presence here ; 
 Yet well the soul her friend descries, 
 And, all unhelped by ear or eyes, 
 Addresses, listens, and replies. 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 255 
 
 V. 
 
 I bent me o'er my infant child, 
 
 And marked that, in her sleep, she smiled : 
 
 I could not tell from what bright thought 
 
 Her cheek that ray of gladness caught ; 
 
 Yet doubted not her angel's voice 
 
 Had bid my little one rejoice : 
 
 And when, with all a parent's fears, 
 
 I pore into the gulf of years, 
 
 'Tis sweet to think of Him whose hand 
 
 Caressed the infant race, 
 What time, with voice divinely bland, 
 
 He spake those words of grace, 
 " The children's 13 angels always stand 
 
 Before my Father's face." 
 Smile on, my babe ; nor heed, the while, 
 That tears are gushing at thy smile ; 
 Thou knowest not how that look hath cast 
 Our spirits backward on the past ; 
 
256 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 That gleam of innocence and mirth 
 Recalled a face not now on earth, 
 Thy sister's face ! and memory tells 
 
 She once was beautiful as thou ; 
 But she is where her Saviour dwells, 
 
 A ministering angel now. 
 'Twas on a lovely sabhath-day 
 
 Her farewell look to us she gave ; 
 And then she took that smile away, 
 
 She took it to her grave. 
 Thy waking eye will see her not; 
 
 But, when I marked those sunny gleams 
 Play on thy dimpled cheek, methought, 
 
 Thou sawest her in thy dreams. 
 Oh ! great had been her love to thee, 
 
 Had such been Heaven's benignant will, 
 And who shall say but she may be 
 
 Thy guardian Angel still ? 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 257 
 
 VI. 
 
 Frail is the barrier that divides 
 
 The yearning spirit from its kind ; 
 And thin the veil that barely hides 
 
 The circumambient world of mind. 
 Oh ! say not that the dead are lost 
 
 To those, who still their memory keep, 
 Commingled with a stranger host, 
 
 Or spell-bound in unconscious sleep ! 
 Deem rather, when around the evening hearth 
 
 A warmer sense of social bliss is shed, 
 That angels share and sanctify our mirth, 
 
 And recognise the presence of the dead. 
 And when, in social or domestic prayer, 
 
 The household group their hearts and voices raise, 
 Believe that viewless worshippers are there, 
 
 Fanning the genial flame of prayer and praise. 
 The Church believes ; 14 with filial love she calls 
 
 Apostles, Prophets, Martyrs to her side ; 
 
258 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 For well she knows they love the sacred walls, 
 In which they laboured, and for which they died. 
 
 Joy to the angels ! -joy o'er all to these, 
 Who erst in human forms the Temple trod, 
 
 When, softened by the Gospel's words of peace, 
 A sinner weeps, a soul is born to God ! 
 
 vn. 
 
 It is the still grey hour of prime, 
 Ere nature's universal chime, 
 Uplifted on the breath of morn, 
 Announces that the day is born. 
 There is no hour of midnight deep 
 More sacred to untroubled sleep : 
 Yet e'en that slumber-breathing hour 
 Exerts in vain its soothing power 
 O'er the worn eyes and features wan 
 Of those, who tend yon dying man, 
 Two gentle girls ; and, many a night, 
 Upheld by love's untiring might, 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 259 
 
 Beside a suffering parent's bed, 
 They have an angel's mission sped. 
 A mother's loss, in early years, 
 They wept with childhood's transient tears ; 
 Those tears a father's hand had dried, 
 That loss a father's heart supplied. 
 Alas, to think, when he is gone, 
 They're left amid the world alone ! 
 Hope struggled long ; till yester-even, 
 Her solace and her aid was given ; 
 But then, as the physician pressed, 
 With anxious touch the shrunken wrist, 
 The truth he dared no longer hide, 
 He sadly shook his head, and sighed. 
 They murmured not ; but tears were shed, 
 In silence, as they meekly spread, 
 For the last rite, the wine and bread : 
 And never is that rite more dear, 
 Never brings earth to heaven more near, 
 
260 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 Than when the dying saint, by faith, 
 Thus clasps the conqueror of death, 
 Yea 15 clasps, in one benign embrace, 
 The total family of grace, 
 Those whom he leaves in grief behind, 
 Those whom he trusts in bliss to find. 
 So felt the father ; o'er his soul 
 The dawn of coming glory stole : 
 Anon, with peaceful smile, he bade 
 His daughters lend their tuneful aid ; 
 His lips were mute, but sang his heart 
 
 Old Simeon's strain of exultation, 
 " Lord, let thy servant now depart, 
 
 For I have seen thy great salvation !" 
 Then, as the notes flowed on, he fell 
 
 Into an almost breathless sleep : 
 The sisters knew the token well, 
 But, touched by the same soothing spell, 
 
 They each forbore to weep : 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 261 
 
 They felt nor did the feeling bear 
 To their young hearts a thought of fear, 
 That, shrouded by the midnight gloom,, 
 Death watched beside them in the room : 
 A solemn utterance they heard, 
 
 Borne in upon the soul, 
 " I l6 come, to loose the silver cord, 
 
 And break the golden bowl !" 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The dawn had scarcely streaked the skies, 
 When, lo, their sire unclosed his eyes ; 
 And, half upspringing from the bed, 
 
 He caught at something hovering near ; 
 " Stay ! stay awhile !" he wildly said, 
 
 " Thou must not leave me here ! , 
 
 My wife ! my sainted one ! O God, 
 Since she was laid beneath the sod, 
 In many a vision of the night, 
 Her form hath glanced upon my sight ; 
 
262 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 But, ever as I gazed thereon, 
 Methouglit the features dimly shone ; 
 And back unto my heart did bring 
 Her look of patient suffering : 
 The portrait, sorrowing memory drew, 
 Was tinted with her own sad hue. 
 Not thus, not thus, I saw her now ! 
 Gladness endiademed her brow ; 
 And, on her cheek, and in her eye, 
 The youth of immortality : 
 No haunting phantom of the past ; 
 Herself, her living self, at last ! 
 With all the glory and the grace, 
 She brought her own familiar face. 
 And, lo again ! to you ! to you ! 
 
 My children, are her arms extended ; 
 Oh ! still to earth's affections true, 
 
 The mother with the saint is blended. 
 Thrice happy thought ! parental love 
 Sits on the loftiest throne above ; 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 263 
 
 And soothes, with tenderest caress, 
 The friendless and the fatherless ! 
 Farewell ! my seraph waves her hand ! 
 
 Death ! O Life ! how fair ! how grand ! 
 A film is passing from my sight ; 
 
 The chamber glows with dazzling light ; 
 The morning clouds, in masses rolled, 
 Are changing into towers of gold : 
 
 1 see the place where angels dwell ! 
 I see the eternal Citadel ! 
 
 A path, like sunbeam bright and straight, 
 Leads up to yonder massy gate : 
 It opes : the sky is thronged with wings ! 
 And harp-notes from ten thousand strings 
 Discourse of" ...... Death cut short the word : 
 
 The speechless lips a moment stirred : 
 Back fell the head, like lifeless stone ; 
 They raised it, but their sire was gone. 
 
264 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Kejoice, sweet orphans, though to you 
 
 The world have lost its gaudy hue ; 
 
 And youth's wild hopes and dizzy mirth 
 
 Can never be your lot on earth ; 
 
 A calmer, purer light is shed 
 
 Along the lonely path ye tread ; 
 
 Lonely for with averted eye, 
 
 The careless crowd may pass you by, 
 
 Yet not deserted : many a friend 
 
 Invisibly your steps shall tend ; 
 
 The kindred dead shall hover near, 
 
 And whisper in the spirit's ear ; 
 
 And ease the load, and still the strife, 
 
 And smooth the ruggedness of life. 
 
 To you the desert shall disclose 
 
 The fountain that in secret flows ; 
 
 Valley and hill shall wear for you 
 
 A livelier green, a deeper blue ; 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 265 
 
 And ever, as with feeble pace, 
 Ye slacken in the Christian's race, 
 Down hastening on unwearied wing, 
 Those heavenly ministers shall bring 
 A taste and token of the bliss, 
 That reigns in yonder world, to this. 
 
 x. 
 
 Enough ! with no unthankful heart, 
 
 From this congenial theme I part : 
 
 Full welcome was its gentle power 
 
 O'er contemplation's pensive hour ; 
 
 Albeit the strain be little worth, 
 
 That gushes at its bidding forth ; 
 
 For slight the aid, that speech supplies, 
 
 To unlock the spirit's mysteries : 
 
 There's many a thought brooks no revealing ; 
 
 And symphonies of high-toned feeling 
 
 Make music with the lone heart's chords, 
 
 Which never can be breathed in words. 
 
2G6 THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 
 
 To some, should such their ear incline 
 A moment to a lay like mine, 
 Its dimly-shadowed truths may seem 
 The phantoms of a brainsick dream : 
 E'en let them track their narrow sphere, 
 And bound their every wish and care 
 With what they see and what they hear ; 
 I leave them to their sordid pelf, 
 And sing my visions to myself. 
 Bather than grovel in the dust, 
 Held down by chains of earthly lust, 
 I'd seek, in cavern or in wood, 
 An angel- haunted solitude : 
 And, if the bustling world refuse 
 Its homage to the heaven-taught muse, 
 Enough for me, in silence deep, 
 The treasures of the soul to keep, 
 Thoughts, that assist her steps to climb 
 Up to eternity from time : 
 
THE MINISTRY OF ANGELS. 267 
 
 Enough, in secret to invite 
 
 Communion with the sons of light, 
 Like 17 that mysterious font on Gavel's cone, 
 Fed with the dews of heaven, and seen by heaven alone. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 Ezek. i. 5, and Rev. iv. 6. 
 
 2 " There was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto 
 an emerald." Rev. iv. 3. 
 
 " The silence of their rapture spake 
 Unutterable things." 
 
 "A Dream of Cloud-land," by MRS. 
 
 4 " And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our like- 
 ness ; and let them have dominion, &c." Gen. i. 26. 
 
 5 " The Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth ; . . . 
 but there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of 
 the ground." Gen- ii. 5, 6. 
 
 6 " And the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and 
 he slept, &c. . . /'Gen. ii. 2l'. 
 
 7 ' ( Which is as a bridegroom, coming out of his chamber . . . ." 
 Ps. xix. 5. 
 
 8 This varies from the tradition espoused, or invented by Milton. 
 Our Lord says (Luke x. 18) " I beheld Satan as lightning fall from 
 
270 NOTES. 
 
 heaven," which rather favours the idea that the spectacle was limited 
 to divine witnesses. 
 
 9 " And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in 
 heaven about the space of half an hour." Rev. viii. 1. The author 
 has taken the liberty to appropriate this expressive description of an- 
 gelic attention not unmingled with apprehension. 
 
 10 Isai. xlv. 21. Rom. iii. 26. 
 
 11 "The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear 
 him, and delivereth them." Ps. xxxiv. 7. 
 
 " Are they not all ministering spirits, sent forth to minister for them 
 who shall be heirs of salvation ?" Heb. i. 14. 
 
 12 "He shall give his angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy 
 ways." Ps. xci. 11. 
 
 13 " I say unto you, that in heaven their angels do always behold the 
 face of my Father which is in heaven." Matt, xviii. 10. 
 
 14 Particularly in the two hymns " Te Deum laudamus," and 
 " Benedicite omnia opera Domini." 
 
 15 " Therefore with angels and archangels, and with all the com- 
 pany of Heaven, &c." Sacramental Anthem (rpiordytos). 
 
 16 Eccles. xii. 6. 
 
 17 On the highest point (of Great Gavel) is a small triangular recep- 
 tacle in the native rock, which, the shepherds say, is never dry. There 
 we might have slaked our thirst plenteously with a pure and celestial 
 liquid ; for the cup or basin, it appears, has no other feeder than the 
 dews of heaven, the showers, the vapours, the hoar-frost, and the 
 spotless snow. WORDSWORTH'S Guide to the Lakes. 
 
THE 
 
 CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PRIZE 
 IN THE YEAR 1841. 
 
 Ibimus ! Ibimus ! 
 
 Quocunque precedas 
 
 Carpere iter, comites, parati. 
 
 HOR. 
 
TO ONE 
 
 WHO, FROM CHILDHOOD TO MATURITY, 
 
 IN SORROW AND IN JOY, 
 
 HATH SHARED WITH HIM THE SYMPATHIES OF 
 NATURAL AND SPIRITUAL KINDRED, 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 INSCRIBES 
 
 THE FOLLOWING POEM 
 
 AS A HUMBLE BUT FAITHFUL MEMORIAL OF 
 
 A BROTHER'S LOVE. 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 A LONG, long time ago, 
 
 Time measured, not upon the scale of years, 
 But by those grave events which mark its flow 
 
 Down its deep channel in the vale of tears : 
 (For, like the mountain brook whose early springing 
 
 Gives promise of a swift and joyous course, 
 O'er moss and crag its noisy waters flinging, 
 
 And traversing long tracts with headlong force, 
 Life, in its first outgoings, speeds amain 
 
 Adown the steeps of childhood and of youth, 
 Then, like the stream when it hath reached the plain, 
 
 Works slowly forward, silent, deep, and smooth, 
 
274 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Keflecting much, and, with abated powers, 
 Travelling in days what once it sped in hours. ) 
 E'en thus it seems a long, long time ago, 
 
 Since first, by secret undefined revealings, 
 Our hearts, beloved sister, learned to know 
 
 Each other's thoughts, and share each other's feelings. 
 'Tis sung that Memnon's harp awoke, 
 Not to a mortal stroke, 
 But by the day's bright king 
 Solicited to sing, 
 Touched * with the finger of his rising ray ; 
 
 And so, in life's young day, 
 The dawning of that sunny soul of thine 
 Called forth the music that was hid in mine. 
 
 And then, perchance, as girl and boy, 
 Our intercourse was all of joy ; 
 Sweet converse, as we sat together, 
 Rejoicing in the radiant weather 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 That beamed upon us both,, 
 And feeling we had pledged to each, 
 Without the help of sign or speech, 
 
 An everlasting troth. 
 Yea everlasting ! time hath sped, 
 And sunny skies have vanished, 
 And scenes are changed, and friends are dead, 
 
 Hopes wither, joys depart ; 
 Yet still the olden spell works on, 
 And still, in holiest unison, 
 With sadder, yet with sweeter tone 
 
 Makes answer heart to heart. 
 Hast thou not felt the tremor thrown 
 
 By one low-breathed mysterious sound 
 Into the minster's nerves of stone, 
 
 Which, touched with sympathy profound, 
 Made answer to that note alone 
 
 From all its conscious depths around ? 
 And knowest thou not one gentle word 
 Thrilling the spirit's shrine within, 
 
 T 2 
 
 275 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 When not an answering pulse had stirred 
 
 To the loud world's tumultuous din ? 
 HOME ! how doth memory from her trance 
 Bound at that single utterance ! 
 What echoes from their silence break ! 
 What buried feelings start awake ! 
 What thickly thronging fancies come ! 
 The key-note of the soul is " HOME ." 
 
 Time was, when youthful thought would range, 
 
 Most pleased, where most was wild and strange ; 
 
 I loved to trace with eager eyes, 
 
 In man's primeval histories, 
 
 Those sparks of light, which, faint and far, 
 
 Just served for fancy's guiding star, 
 
 Piercing the shadowy curtains furled 
 
 Around the cradle of the world. 
 
 'Twas sweet to dream of nature's prime, 
 
 Basking amid her native clime : 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 277 
 
 And, ever and anon, rny path 
 
 Was crossed by some gaunt form of wrath, 
 
 Whose awful eye and brow severe 
 
 Called up the livelier zest of fear : 
 
 Yet in one imaged scene my mind 
 
 Meaning or moral failed to find ; 
 
 Only a vague, foreboding sense 
 
 Of some mysterious providence 
 
 Hinted a truth it might not show : 
 
 I learned it since, I feel it now ! 
 
 Methought it was the hour of rest, 
 When nature's face looks loveliest, 
 And earth below and heaven above 
 Seemed touched with tender hues of love ; 
 Beneath the dear paternal tree 
 There met a goodly family ; 
 The sire, upon whose lofty brow 
 A century had left its snow, 
 
278 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Albeit the harrowing touch of care 
 
 Had marked no trace of ravage there, 
 
 It well became, so calm and sage, 
 
 The venerable crown of age : 
 
 Two Sons, the old man's joy and pride, 
 
 With one fair grandson, graced his side, 
 
 An 2 orphan, in whose youthful face 
 
 Parental fondness loved to trace 
 
 The lineaments of one whose bloom 
 
 Was withering in an early tomb ; 
 
 Nor lacked there, in her customed place, 
 
 Dear woman's gentleness and grace. 
 
 There sat they ; and that holy time, 
 
 The genial spirit of the clime, 
 
 Crept to the soul, and lulled each sense 
 
 Beneath its soothing influence, 
 
 A paradise of tender feeling, 
 
 Where heart to kindred heart was stealing, 
 
 Like the soft light of twilight skies, 
 
 The diapason of sweet dyes, 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 279 
 
 Each mellowing down its several tone, 
 Till all are blended into one. 
 
 " How blest," the old man cried, " my lot, 
 
 That finds, in this familiar spot, 
 
 My own, my sire's, my children's hearth, 
 
 The dearest, happiest nook on earth ! 
 
 My soul inhales an influence sweet 
 
 From the green turf beneath my feet, 
 
 And every tree that waves above 
 
 Whispers a well-known voice of love. 
 
 Yon giant oak, which tempest-proof 
 
 Holds its broad buckler o'er my roof, 
 
 I planted it, in childhood, there ; 
 
 I watched its spreading year by year ; 
 
 And thus, from youth to manhood's prime, 
 
 I calendared the lapse of time : 
 
 But chiefly that majestic river ! 
 
 How have I watched its course, and never, 
 
280 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Whate'er my mood, have failed to own 
 Its sympathies of look and tone ! 
 Gliding with softened music by, 
 It sung my earliest lullaby ; 
 When hope's first visions blest my sight, 
 It danced and sparkled with delight ; 
 How blithe it carolled at my side, 
 As home I led my blushing bride ! 
 With voice of deeper, tenderer joy, 
 Gave welcome to my first-born boy ; 
 And what a wail was on the wave, 
 When sunk my youngest to his grave ! 
 
 " Ye scenes, that are a conscious part 
 Of that which thinks within my heart, 
 How oft some solitary sound 
 Uttered when all is still around, 
 Some gleam of light or touch of shade, 
 Where sunbeam or where breeze hath strayed, 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 281 
 
 Sends my fond spirit dreaming back 
 Along life's phantom-haunted track, 
 Calling up thoughts, whose tender power 
 Hallows the interests of the hour, 
 Arid present loves and joys arrays 
 In the pure light of other days !" 
 
 The old man paused ; for, uttered nigh, 
 A low involuntary sigh 
 Seemed on its heavy wings to hear 
 The burthen of a heart's despair. 
 He turned him, and his startled glance 
 Fell on his first-born's countenance ; 
 Blanched to the ashy paleness spread 
 O'er the stiff features of the dead, 
 Yet working in convulsive strife 
 With all the energies of life ; 
 Well might the father start amazed, 
 As on that woe-struck face he gazed. 
 
2S2 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 " Abram, my son/' he cried, " hath ought 
 In speech of mine too harshly wrought 
 Upon thine heart, and lent thy hrow 
 A shade, I never marked till now ? 
 What, if in memory's backward range, 
 We needs must meet the face of change; 
 And change, amid life's pleasant things, 
 Takes oft more largely than it brings ; 
 Yet, whilst yon dear horizon's girth 
 Embraces all I love on earth, 
 Whilst field and forest, stream and hill 
 Wear their unchanging beauty still, 
 Whilst household faces round me gather, 
 And household voices call me ' father,' 
 And kindling eye and glowing cheek 
 Changeless and deathless love bespeak, 
 I feel how gently at my side 
 Old Time his ministry hath plied : 
 And when, at no far distant date, 
 
 The last and sternest change shall come, 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 283 
 
 Serenely its approach I wait, 
 
 In the blest hope to die at home ; 
 To die in this my native place, 
 
 Where life its tranquil course hath run, 
 Encircling in a last embrace 
 
 The forms of daughter and of son, 
 Watched by the fond maternal face 
 
 Of holy Nature looking on ; 
 To lay me down in humble trust, 
 And sleep amid my kindred dust ; 
 Such hope is mine !" 
 
 "Forbear! forbear!" 
 Cried Abram, " Oh, my father, spare 
 Thy son ! the trial comes at length ; 
 And speak I must God grant me strength 
 To roll this burthen from my mind ! 
 And thou, my honoured sire, attend ; 
 
284 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 If never yet I failed to find 
 
 In thee a comforter and friend, 
 Accord me now thy patient ear, 
 Exclaim not : question not : but hear ! 
 
 " 'Twas in the visions of the night, 
 
 
 
 When fancy to the inward sight 
 Embodies thoughts which idly pass 
 By day, like shadows o'er the grass, 
 I dreamed ; and, lo, I stood alone, 
 A stranger, in a land unknown, 
 And gazed on other fields and trees, 
 And listed other streams than these : 
 In the wide landscape marked I not 
 A trace of one familiar spot ; 
 And yet, though all was new and strange, 
 I felt no marvel at the change ; 
 It seemed that thus abroad to roam 
 Had grown habitual ; kin and home 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Looked dim and distant in the haze 
 That gathers round departed days, 
 Like the pale outline of a shore 
 Long left, and to be trod no more. 
 
 " Bight gladly, when the vision fled, 
 I stretched me on my own dear bed ; 
 And, peering through the darkness, found 
 Each well-known object grouped around ; 
 And heard, amid the silence deep, 
 Euphrates 3 murmuring in his sleep. 
 
 " Morn broke, and with her cheerful beam 
 Dispelled the memory of my dream ; 
 Or, if its presence undefined 
 Hung, like a cloud, about my mind, 
 'Twas only felt in tenderer zest 
 For scenes of homely interest, 
 
286 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Beheld but in the lustre thrown 
 
 O'er common things which seemed to wear 
 Hues far more lovely than their own 
 
 By some dark contrast lurking near. 
 Unconscious of a guiding will, 
 
 I traversed the paternal fields, 
 And gained the summit of the hill, 
 When my rapt spirit drank its fill 
 
 Of joy which that sweet prospect yields. 
 Far- stretching pastures fresh and green 
 
 Sloped gently downward from the steep ; 
 Around its base, with glancing sheen, 
 
 The river led its graceful sweep ; 
 And, from behind their leafy screen, 
 
 I saw our clustered dwellings peep. 
 My father, thou hast well exprest 
 The thoughts which kindled in my breast ; 
 Thine eloquence had power to win 
 As true an echo from within, 
 As when that landscape smiling by 
 Sent in its beauty visibly ; 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 287 
 
 It seemed but that another sense 
 
 Awoke the heart's intelligence. 
 
 Why lingers thus my tale, as fain 
 
 A little interval to gain ? 
 
 Like the doomed stream that creeps in fear, 
 
 As conscious of the cataract near ; 
 
 Now strives in greenwood shades to hide ; 
 
 Now toys with flowers that hloom beside ; 
 
 Now, in some rock-hewn cavern deep, 
 
 Snatches a moment's troubled sleep, 
 
 Yet must, its bootless doublings past, 
 
 Dash down the dark abyss at last ; 
 
 E'en thus, though dallying by the way 
 
 I frame fond pretext for delay, 
 
 Eeluctant, as the lingering stream, 
 
 To approach and grapple with my theme ; 
 
 Yet come it must the dream ! the dream ! 
 
 Yes, then, while from that upland brow 
 
 I communed with the scene below, 
 
 Nursing delicious thoughts that dwelt 
 
 On all things lovely, till I felt 
 
288 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Each quiet charm of field and tree 
 Dearer than all the world to me, 
 (How shall I paint it ?) then, and there, 
 Rushed back the dream ; intensely clear 
 Its images returned to sight, 
 Thrown out in strong prophetic light. 
 
 " I know not if my will, perchance, 
 
 That vision's meaning had withstood ; 
 And deemed it but the vague romance 
 
 Of Fancy, in her wayward mood : 
 But then there came a voice! and still 
 Its words through all my being thrill ; 
 Yet whether to the soul they came, 
 Flashed inward like the levin-flame, 
 Or whether on the ear they fell 
 In spoken sounds, I cannot tell. 
 ' Abram !' 4 it said, ' I bid thee come 
 Forth from thy kindred and thy home 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 289 
 
 To a far land which I will show, 
 Where I will make thy name to grow : 
 The favour of thy God possessing, 
 Thou shalt he blest, and be a blessing, 
 A blessing to thy friend, but he 
 Shall be accursed who curse th thee : 
 My glory on thy seed shall rest, 
 And all the world in thee be blest. 
 
 " Those words, my father ! earth and sky 
 Witnessed their dread divinity : 
 I heard them sighing in the breeze, 
 And whispered by the rustling trees ; 
 I caught them rushing down the stream ; 
 I saw them written by a beam 
 Of sunshine on the ground I trod I 
 Father, it was the voice of God ! 
 And I obey : my yearning heart, 
 Be still ! I must I will depart." 
 
 u 
 
290 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 " I trust, the pang may be forgiven, 
 
 Fe]t when that mandate was revealed, 
 Whereby all social ties were riven, 
 The habits of a life repealed, 
 That our Almighty Sire above, 
 Who framed the laws of human love, 
 Will pardon, if my spirit yet 
 Shrinks back with passionate regret, 
 Deeming the good I know and hold 
 More precious than the good foretold, 
 Will pardon, if the word which sent 
 Me forth in endless banishment 
 From kin and home and native land 
 Sound less like promise than command, 
 Will own the trembling faith which bears 
 An offering sullied with her tears, 
 Content in patience to obev, 
 And meet the trials of the day, 
 Albeit she sees through mists of sorrow 
 Faint token of a brighter morrow. 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 291 
 
 Nor let me now be deemed ingrate 
 For blessings on my past estate ; 
 Nor doubt I, by the way, to trace 
 
 The hand that works my future weal ; 
 I can accept the promised grace, 
 
 Believing what I fail to feel." 
 
 He ceased ; and to his father's eye 
 
 Lifted his own inquiringly : 
 
 His task was done, and doubt and dread 
 
 Passed off, and he was comforted. 
 
 Not so the sire ; with vacant stare, 
 
 As if some shock too stern to bear 
 
 Had stunned him into silence there, 
 
 He sat, and gazed upon his son 
 
 Long space, but utterance found he none, 
 
 To give his troubled soul relief; 
 
 One only sign betrayed his grief. 
 
292 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 The tear-drops gathering large and slow 
 
 Under the shadow of his brow. 
 
 At length from that o'erwhelming stroke 
 
 To painful consciousness he woke ; 
 
 And faltered forth, " It cannot be ! 
 
 Such harsh unnatural decree 
 
 Is not of God ! I well believe 
 
 Some evil spirit might deceive, 
 
 Persuading thee to burst the ties 
 
 Twined round the hearts of families, 
 
 The bond, that, in its tender thrall, 
 
 Links all to one and one to all. 
 
 Nor hast thou yet shewn fitting cause 
 
 Why God should slight those gracious laws, 
 
 Whose sway o'er human hearts makes known 
 
 The loving-kindness of his own. 
 
 Rest thee, my son ! Alas I see 
 
 Thou dost not to my speech agree : 
 
 Then hear thy suppliant father sue 
 
 For one small favour, as his due ; 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 393 
 
 A little while in peace remain, 
 Till that dread voice be heard again, 
 And God his own behest make plain 
 Then I myself will bid thee go, 
 Nor further strive !" 
 
 . " No, father, no ! 
 The faith which prompts me to obey 
 Would lose its guerdon by delay : 
 When God reveals his sovereign will, 
 We may not question, but fulfil. 
 Dim mystery her curtain draws 
 O'er mighty principles and laws. 
 Which, strong and viewless as the wind, 
 Work joy or sorrow to mankind : 
 Yet ofttimes objects I discern, 
 Whose several aspect, strange or stern, 
 Keceives a gentleness and grace 
 From contact with its proper place : 
 
294 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Hinting at some harmonious plan, 
 
 Coequal with Creation's span, 
 
 Where one supreme, benignant Soul 
 
 Forms, fills, sustains, and guides the whole. 
 
 " My father, when my brother died, 
 I saw thee stand his bier beside, 
 And yield him to the God who gave, 
 With hope that looksk beyond the grave : 
 I've heard thee, with unruffled mien, 
 Anticipate thine own last scene : 
 And seems it not a worthier task 
 To act, when God vouchsafes to ask ; 
 With grateful willingness accord 
 Our free obedience to his word, 
 When moral power of choice is lent 
 To grant, or to withhold consent, 
 Than lay our forehead in the dust, 
 And yield at last, when yield we must ? 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 295 
 
 This parting to the eye of faith 
 
 Seems like a voluntary death. 
 
 We die : and heaven-taught faith descries 
 
 The opening gates of paradise : 
 
 We part : faith cheers me on my road ; 
 
 Faith points me to a fair abode, 
 
 My future home, divinely drest 
 
 In all the charms that sweeten rest, 
 
 Broad pastures o perennial green, 
 
 Grand hills and flowery vales between, 
 
 Where I, a childless man erewhile, 
 
 Shall see my sons around me smile, 
 
 And find domestic joys as dear 
 
 As those that made life happy here. 
 
 " Nay more ! prophetic visions throng, 
 Marching in radiant pomp along ; 
 I see a line of kings pass by ! 
 I see my future progeny ! 
 
296 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 And, lo, the last ! a wondrous star 
 Is kindling in the East afar : 
 Heaven rings with high angelic mirth, 
 ' Glory to God, and peace on earth !' 
 Echoing the mighty tongues of heaven, 
 
 Man hails his natal morn, 
 And cries, * To us a Son is given ! 
 
 To us a child is born !' 
 The barren wilderness rejoices ; 
 The ancient hills lift up their voices ; 
 The fertile plain its flowers expands ; 
 The solemn forests clap their hands : 
 The thrones of earth confess his sway ; 
 Her warriors fling their swords away ; 
 Peace spreads abroad her dove-like wings, 
 And Power proclaims him KING OF KINGS. 
 High hopes ! bright prospects ! Let me go 
 To the far land which God will show, 
 ' Where He will make my name to grow !' 
 Faith binds the promise to my breast, 
 ' In thee shall all the world be blest' " 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. J297 
 
 " Yet ah, my recreant heart ! in vain 
 It calls on faith to loose the chain, 
 And set its fond affections free 
 From this my native home and thee ! 
 Faith guides my steps, and sways my will, 
 But here my heart is lingering still." 
 
 " And thou, dear father, could'st thou know 
 How deep the bitter waters flow, 
 Through which I tremblingly essay 
 To follow, where God leads the way, 
 Thou would'st not aggravate their force 
 By vain repinings and remorse. 
 A little time, a few brief years, 
 Chequered with earth-born smiles and tears, 
 Must yet be gathered to the past, 
 And then, where'er our lot be cast, 
 I trust the welcome day shall come, 
 When we shall meet, and meet AT HOME. 
 
298 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Farewell ! may others prove to thee 
 What I have been, and thought to he. 
 Cherish my memory, when I'm gone : 
 Farewell ! my father, bless thy son !" 
 
 Uprose the old man from the ground, 
 And cast his wistful eyes around ; 
 And here and there they paused a space, 
 To rest upon some favourite place ; 
 Then, straightway turning to his son, 
 He grasped his hand ; 
 
 " God's will be done ! 
 t yield ! but oh, forbid me not 
 To share the burthen of thy lot ! 
 The God who sends thee forth to roam 
 Commands not me to dwell at home. 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 299 
 
 Yes, thou dear spot of native earth, 
 Vainly thou spread'st thy beauties forth ! 
 Flourish my fields ! thou mighty river, 
 Flow on, as bright and fresh as ever ! 
 Your spell is burst : I could not bear 
 
 To meet your aspect, day by day, 
 When those whose presence made you dear 
 
 Are wandering far away : 
 Ye would but make my lonely fate 
 Appear more deeply desolate. 
 Let us begone ! For many a year 
 Together have we sojourned here ; 
 Nor bitter thought, nor angry word 
 The quiet of our home hath stirred ; 
 And wherefore should the one in heart 
 Constrain themselves to dwell apart ? 
 May we not deem the heavenly call 
 Addressed to one, but meant for all ; 
 Our altered destinies fulfil, 
 In exile, but together still ? 
 
300 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Love asks no leave of time or place 
 To shew the brightness of his face : 
 Love, like the sunshine and the air, 
 Warms and refreshes everywhere, 
 Our household-god, with power no less 
 To sanctify the wilderness." 
 
 Ah, poor old man ! thy heart was strong, 
 But rugged was the way and long ! 
 Travel its sternest aspect wore 
 To one who knew not toil before ; 
 And weary fell the foot of age, 
 Urged on in daily pilgrimage; 
 And many a plain behind was cast, 
 And many a painful hill o'erpast, 
 But forward far, o'er vale and hill, 
 Pointed the guiding Spirit still. 
 What marvel that his feeble strength 
 Gave up the hopeless task at length, 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 301 
 
 And from his wanderings and his woes 
 Sought, in the welcome grave, repose ? 
 
 And Abram saw his dream fulfilled ! 
 Deep memories his bosom thrilled, 
 As once, from daylight's cares released, 
 
 He sat him down to rest, 
 Looking 5 towards Hai on the east 
 
 And Bethel on the west ; 
 And there, outstretching at his feet, 
 As if arrayed his eyes to greet, 
 In evening's tender light and shade, 
 The very landscape was displayed, 
 Which, on that memorable night, 
 Was pictured to his mental sight, 
 When in his dream he stood alone, 
 A stranger in a land unknown ; 
 Each feature so distinctly plain, 
 He almost thought he dreamed again : 
 
302 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 And hark, a still small voice ! the same 
 Which erst on sterner mission came, 
 Deep as the distant thunders roll, 
 But sweet as music to the soul, 
 He knew it well, and howed his head 
 Low on his breast, and worshipped, 
 Awaiting with attention meek 
 To hear what God the Lord should speak. 
 
 " Abram, arise ; dismiss thy fear ; 
 
 I am the Lord who brought thee here ! 
 
 Me as thy shield of strength regard, 
 
 And thine exceeding great reward. 
 
 Look upward on a starry night ; 
 
 If thou canst tell each point of light 
 
 That sparkles through the infinite, 
 
 Or if, by calculation just, 
 
 Thou canst compute each grain of dust, 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 303 
 
 That strews the earth beneath thy tread, 
 Then may thy seed be numbered. 
 Throned on this mountain-height, look forth 
 From east to west, from south to north, 
 Or walk the borders of the land, 
 
 From Nilus to thy native river, 
 I grant possession to thy hand, 
 
 To thee and to thy seed for ever." 
 
 ' These things are written for our admonition ;' 
 
 And here our imaged destiny we see ! 
 Methinks, dear sister, by no strange transition, 
 My spirit turned from tender thoughts of thee 
 To one, who not inaptly claims to be 
 The prototype of all, whose early vision 
 Of household joys hath broken and departed, 
 And left them to the world, alone and weary-hearted. 
 
304 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Once, since we left it, have I seen our home ! 
 
 For so I call that ever dear abode, 
 Where dwelt our perfect household, and the bloom 
 Of our fresh feelings in their spring-tide glowed, 
 Ere care and death their ghastly faces showed ; 
 Once have I dared revisit it, the room 
 Where oft we sat, when all the house grew mute, 
 Feeding on midnight talk, our sweet forbidden fruit. 
 
 I trod the garden walks, I saw the seat 
 
 Beneath the tree, o'er- looking, as of old, 
 Those ancient pits which opened at our feet 
 A gorgeous wilderness of green and gold, 
 When furze and broom their summer hues unfold ; 
 I pressed the turf unsinged by noontide heat, 
 Where the great fir- grove stoops upon the fen, 
 And bade the past restore its blissful scenes again. 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 305 
 
 And wherefore not ? our names were on the trees, 
 
 Graven with our childish fingers, and on high 
 That old mysterious murmur, like far seas, 
 Haunting the summer-noon's tranquillity : 
 I called upon the past ! and days gone by 
 Gave up their treasures ! but alas, with these 
 Pale 6 spectres came, that filled my soul with dread, 
 The faces of the changed, the distant, and the dead ! 
 
 Yet why was memory given the power 
 To crowd into one thoughtful hour 
 Visions with varied interest rife, 
 Boused from the past abyss of life ? 
 Not that the soul should lapse away 
 Into fond dreams of yesterday, 
 Then wake, to greet with languid eyes 
 To-day's more grave realities : 
 Bather, in gentlest holiest light, 
 She brings the solemn truth to sight, 
 
306 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM, 
 
 (Truth, which at distance deemed severe, 
 Grows kindlier as it draws more near,) 
 That here, amid the things of time 
 Touched with the withering taint of crime, 
 We may not seek, and shall not find 
 Rest for the imperishahle mind. 
 
 Thanks for such gentle teaching ! more, 
 For deeper and diviner lore ; 
 Wherewith the Spirit from above, 
 Tempering high truth with boundless love, 
 Imparts a clear, harmonious sense 
 To life's most strange experience ! 
 
 " We see our calling !" forth we fare 
 From the loved haunts of childish mirth 
 
 To 7 a far land, we wot not where, 
 
 "Strangers and pilgrims upon earth." 
 
THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 307 
 
 " We seek enduring habitations," 
 
 A bright and beautiful abode ; 
 " We seek a city with foundations, 
 
 Its builder and its maker, God." 
 Each word to ancient patriarch spoken 
 
 Hath proved to us its promise true ; 
 And ours is many a type and token 
 
 Of grace, which patriarch never knew. 
 God manifest in human form 
 
 Strengthens, and speeds us on our way, 
 By 8 night " a shelter from the storm," 
 
 "A shadow from the heat" by day. 
 He 9 took no high, angelic nature, 
 
 But Abraham's humbler seed he chose, 
 With human heart and voice and feature 
 
 To share, as well as soothe our woes. 
 Sweet sister, He hath given thee power 
 
 With more than common ills to cope ; 
 And glorified thy darkest hour 
 
 With gleams of heavenly peace and hope. 
 
308 THE CALL OF ABRAHAM. 
 
 Fain would we trust thy future years 
 
 A happier destiny may prove ; 
 (For thou hast all thy brother's prayers, 
 
 And more than all thy brother's love.) 
 Yet, let the future smile or mourn, 
 
 To us a glorious place is given 
 With 10 the great " church of the first-born, 
 
 Whose names are registered in heaven." 
 Beyond the bounds of time's expansion, 
 
 Where change and sorrow never come, 
 We're n journeying to the promised mansion 
 
 Made ready in our Father's home. 
 Friends, kindred, loving and beloved, 
 
 That wont on earth our lot to cheer 
 Thither are, one by one, removed, 
 
 And we shall find them settled there. 
 Enough ! let sin and pain and death 
 
 This transitory world infest ; 
 Those 12 who attain to Abraham's faith 
 
 Shall be with faithful Abraham blest. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 " Touched with his golden finger." WORDSWORTH. 
 8 " Haran begat Lot : and Haran died before his father Terah, in 
 the land of his nativity, in Ur of the Chaldees." Gen. xi. 27, 28. 
 
 3 " The God of glory appeared to our father Abraham when he was 
 in Mesopotamia, before he dwelt in Charran." Acts vii. 2. 
 
 4 " Now the Lord had said unto Abram, Get thee out of thy coun- 
 try, and from thy kindred, and from thy father's house, unto a land 
 that I will shew thee : and I will make thee a great nation, and I will 
 bless thee, and make thy name great : and thou shalt be a blessing : 
 and I will bless them that bless thee, and curse him that curseth 
 thee : and in thee shall all families of the earth be blessed." Gen. 
 xii. 13. 
 
 5 " He removed thence unto a mountain on the east of Bethel, hav- 
 ing Bethel on the west and Hai on the east.'' Gen. xii. 8. It appears 
 that Abram returned to this place after his residence in Egypt. Gen. 
 xiii. 3. The author has taken the liberty of throwing together into one 
 speech the distinguishing features of several addresses made at different 
 times and places by God to Abram before his final settlement in the plain 
 of Mamre. " Fear not, Abram . . I am the Lord that brought thee out 
 of Ur of the Chaldees... I am thy shield, and thy exceeding great re- 
 ward. Look now toward heaven, and tell the stars : if thou be able 
 
310 NOTES. 
 
 to number them... so shall thy seed be... And I will make thy seed as 
 the dust of the earth ; so that, if a man can number the dust of the 
 earth, then shall thy seed also be numbered... Lift up now thine eyes 
 and look from the place where thou art, northward and southward and 
 eastward and westward... Arise, walk through the land, in the length 
 of it, and in the breadth of it ; for I will give it unto thee.-.from the 
 river of Egypt to the great river, the river Euphrates . . to thee will I 
 give it and to thy seed for ever." Gen. xiii. 14 17 ; xv. 1, 5, 7* 18. 
 " They come, in dim procession led, 
 The cold, the faithless, and the dead." 
 
 LADY OF THE LAKE. 
 
 7 See Heb. xi. 816. 
 
 8 " Thou hast been a strength to the poor, a strength to the needy 
 in his distress ; a refuge from the storm, a shadow from the heat." 
 Isai. xxv. 4 ; see also Isai. xxxii. 2. 
 
 9 " For verily he took not on him the nature of angels, but he took 
 on him the seed of Abraham : wherefore in all things it behoved him ' 
 to be made like unto his brethren," &c. Heb. ii. 16, 17. 
 
 10 " Ye are come to the general assembly and church of the 
 
 first-born which are written in heaven." Heb. xii. 23. 
 
 11 " In my Father's house are many mansions...! go to prepare a 
 place for you/' Johnxiv. 2. 
 
 19 "So then they which be of faith are blessed with faithful Abra- 
 ham." Gal. iii. 9. 
 
THE 
 
 CROSS PLANTED 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 
 
 THE POEM WHICH OBTAINED THE SEATONIAN PEIZE 
 IN THE YEAR 1842. 
 
The vast hills in fluctuation fixed 
 At thy command, how awful ! Shall the mind, 
 Human and rational, report of Thee 
 Even less than these 1 Be mute who may, who can, 
 Yet will I praise Thee with impassioned voice : 
 My lips, that might forget Thee in the crowd, 
 Cannot forget Thee here ; where Thou hast built, 
 For thine own glory, in the wilderness ! 
 Me didst Thou constitute a priest of thine, 
 In such a temple as we now behold 
 Reared for thy presence. 
 
 " DESPONDENCY CORRECTED." 
 
 (Tht Excursion, BOOK iv.) 
 
THE 
 
 CROSS PLANTED 
 
 UPON THE 
 
 HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS, 
 
 THE mountain breeze ! the mountain breeze ! 
 
 In glen and dingle nurst, 
 Once more thy spirit to inhale 
 
 My inmost soul's athirst ! 
 1 know thee from a thousand winds 
 
 Bred upon sea or shore ; 
 None with a privilege like thine 
 
 Kifles the wild- thyme's store, 
 And none with such a power of voice 
 
 Maketh the pine- trees roar ! 
 
314 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 Ah woe is me ! the city grows ! 
 
 Each year with wider span 
 Enforceth on the abhorrent fields 
 
 The advancing tide of man ; 
 Old manor-house and village-spire 
 From their coeval shades retire ; 
 
 And, vaunting over these, 
 Chimeras hatched in civic brains 
 Fright from the desecrated plains 
 
 Their patriarchal trees. 
 Yet beauty with the spring hath birth ; 
 And joy runs riot upon earth 
 
 In this bright genial weather ! 
 I know the mountains far away 
 Are happy, as when I and they 
 
 Kept holiday together. 
 I know it ! Would that I were free 
 To sweep afar o'er land and sea, 
 Untrammelled by the laws that bind 
 The faltering footsteps of mankind ! 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 315 
 
 Whither away ? to sit and dream 
 By Rotha's Genii- haunted stream ? 
 Or commune with the sylphs of air 
 Enthroned on 1 Idris' craggy chair ? 
 Or taste the stormy joy that thrills 
 The hunter of Helvetian hills ? 
 Or climb on venturous quest to know 
 
 The secrets of the condor's nest, 
 Where Andes, with his fire-scathed brow, 
 
 Frowns o'er the waters of the W T est ? 
 Ah no ! but were it mine to roam 
 
 Where'er the heart its impulse lent, 
 I would go seek for Beauty's home 
 
 Deep in the glowing Orient. 
 
 The East ! the incense-breathing East ! 
 Thou art the shrine for Nature's priest ! 
 It is not that Imaus rears 
 His head above his mountain peers ; 
 
3J6 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 Nor that all summer's wealth discloses 
 Nought lovelier than 2 Cashmerian roses ; 
 Nor that sweet music's softest tone 
 
 So haunts the Ganges all day long, 
 That you might think the stream flows on 
 
 A liquid element of song : 
 Say rather that a spell profound 
 Is laid on every scene and sound ; 
 Its light illumes the mountain snows, 
 Its soul is breathing from the rose, 
 Its voice to simplest song imparts 
 Strange mastery over listening hearts, 
 A spell by local Genii caught 
 Up from the old-world depths of thought, 
 Scattering o'er mountains, flowers and streams 
 Of Truth's pure sunshine broken gleams 
 Broken and coloured, as they pass 
 Through Fantasy's prismatic glass. 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 317 
 
 Fair land ! thy common earth and skies 
 Might make a poet's paradise ! 
 And, if alas, the touch of qrime 
 Have marred the glory of thy prime, 
 Still Hope, fond seraph, lingering near, 
 Brushes from Memory's cheek the tear, 
 And tells us that thy mountains high 
 Stand upward- gazing to the sky ; 
 That rugged oak and cedar fair 
 Bow down their stately heads in prayer ; 
 And oft, 'mid evening's shadowy calm, 
 There steal strange whispers from the palm ; 
 And multitudes of radiant things 
 Spread to the sun their glossy wings, 
 Or paint with liveliest hues the sod, 
 Expectant of a coming God 
 The God whose peace-proclaiming word 
 Will sheath the cherub's fiery sword, 
 And to the banished sons of men 
 Fling wide their Eden's gates again. 
 
318 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 Ye rosy clouds that float away, 
 Seeking the ambrosial fount of day, 
 Oh, were it mine to wander through 
 The trackless firmament with you ; 
 And drop, with you, to genial rest 
 On some far eastern mountain's breast ! 
 
 Go to ! the spirit with disdain 
 Spurns off the body's cumbrous chain ! 
 Exulting in her proper might, 
 
 She asks no aid of clouds above, 
 To waft her on her vagrant flight 
 
 Questing the object of her love : 
 One effort of her sovereign will 
 
 A will no power on earth resisteth 
 And here she sits, and takes her fill 
 
 Of beauty, whatsoe'er she listeth : 
 Late inmate of a narrow room 
 Sunk in monotony of gloom : 
 But now ! afar above around 
 Beautiful sight, and rapturous sound ! 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 319 
 
 Lo the frolic lights and shadows 
 Chasing each other o'er the meadows ; 
 And shy gleams, through dancing leaves, 
 Which the dewy turf receives ; 
 Or the stream which carols on, 
 Heedless if in shade or sun : 
 Far aloft the mountains tower, 
 Watching over field and hower, 
 With a smile upon their face, 
 
 Conscious that to them is given 
 To 3 connect the landscape's grace 
 
 With the pageantry of heaven ! 
 
 Arise then, O my soul, and say 
 What scene thy bidding shall obey ? 
 And wilt thou o'er thy visions brood 
 In meditative solitude, 
 Or summon (for the power is thine) 
 Some kindred 'spirit to thy shrine ? 
 
320 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 Bold choice is thine ! yet wondrous well 
 Earth's grandeur answers to thy spell ; 
 And Heaven itself might fail to send, 
 For fellowship, a worthier friend : 
 A friend ? Ah yes ! though never yet 
 Our mortal eyes in greeting met, 
 And I am still on earth, and thou 
 A blessed- one in glory now, 
 Yet oft, dear Heher, have I felt 
 The joy that in thy presence dwelt : 
 Hath not my spirit breathed with thine 
 The balmy airs of Palestine ? 
 Have we not bathed in Siloa's rill, 
 And climbed the olive- sprinkled hill, 
 And wept beneath each conscious tree 
 That glooms o'er sad Gethsemane ? 
 And, when our God upon thine head 
 The consecrating oil had shed, 
 And girt thee with the two-edged sword, 
 To do the battles of the Word, 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 321 
 
 Where savage beast and barbarous man 
 
 Prowl o'er the wastes of Hindostan, 
 
 I seemed thy generous toil to share r 
 
 And followed thee with love and prayer : 
 
 Thine was the Christian martyr's soul, 
 
 Panting to reach its heavenly goal ; 
 
 And thine sweet shades of natural feeling 
 
 O'er thy sublimer spirit stealing, 
 
 And lending it a charm of power, 
 
 As when some homely, way-side flower 
 
 Looks up amid the rich parterre, 
 
 All unabashed by splendors there 
 
 In nature's confidence looks up, 
 
 Offering to heaven its dewy cup, 
 
 And winning from the gazer's eye 
 
 A glance of special sympathy : 
 
 Thus, 4 rife with grace, whose type was found 
 
 In the sealed garden's mystic ground, 
 
 Where grew choice spice-trees many a one, 
 
 Camphire and myrrh and cinnamon, 
 
 Y 
 
322 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 Rich in the lore of every clime, 
 Philosophy matured by time, 
 Song-flowers with many- coloured gleam 
 Gladdening the groves of Academe, 
 Thine was a heart as childhood's warm 
 To nature's wildest, simplest charm : 
 On hoary peak or beetling cliff 
 Thine eye read many a hieroglyph ; 
 And gentler things the clouds that spread 
 Their wings above the day-god's bed, 
 The calm wave's smile, the voice that dwells 
 In the far-winding depth of shells, 
 The rose's blush, the jasmine's sigh, 
 The tear-drop in the violet's eye, 
 All spake to thee ; earth, air, and ocean 
 Claimed interest in thy pure devotion. 
 
 Oh, is not this the place the time 
 For converse holy and sublime ? 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 323 
 
 Here rest we : Gaughur's mighty brow 
 Shall be our mount of vision now. 
 
 Not yet ! not yet ! All still as death 
 The height above, the depth beneath ! 
 Above a few faint drowsy stars 
 Watch till young Day heaven's gate unbars : 
 Below yon masses of black shade 
 Mark where in deadly woods is laid 
 The coil of that umbrageous chain, 
 Which girds the mountains to the plain : 
 Down to the horizon's utmost rim 
 The east is colourless and dim; 
 No hovering cloud as yet hath won 
 A distant greeting from the sun. 
 But, 5 lo ! What prodigies are there, 
 Kindling the northern hemisphere ? 
 Points of pure, pallid light, enshrined 
 Deep in the abysmal dark behind ! 
 More ! more ! weird lamps ! a mighty range 
 Of beacons ! Now the colours change ! 
 
324 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 The pure pale light grows warm and tender- 
 
 Pomegranate-blossoms fused in splendor ! 
 
 Ah me ! the pageant, spreading fast, 
 
 Takes semblance of a city vast : 
 
 Based on the clouds, methinks I see 
 
 The bulwarks of eternity, 
 
 Gigantic towers of living fire, 
 
 Dome, pillar, pinnacle, and spire : 
 
 And, high o'er all, aloft, alone 
 
 Are they the footsteps of a throne ? 
 
 Tier beyond tier, and height o'er height, 
 
 Lost in their own mysterious light ! 
 
 Tell me, thou man of God ; for thou 
 
 Hast entered with undazzled brow 
 
 The Godhead's dwelling-place, 
 Hast stood before the sapphire throne, 
 And him the Power that sits thereon 
 
 Hast seen him, face to face : 
 Oh give the wondrous scene a voice ! 
 Oh grant me license to rejoice ! 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 325 
 
 Is it the Vision seen erewhile 
 
 By the lone saint in Patmos isle, 
 
 What time in spirit he was led 
 
 To some mysterious mountain's head, 
 
 And saw, descending from on high, 
 
 Walls of celestial jewelry, 
 
 Built upon stones, as crystal bright, 
 
 Amethyst, emerald, chrysolite, 
 
 And gates set open day and night, 
 
 Each gate a single gem ? 
 Oh, tell me, do I now behold 
 The city of transparent gold, 
 
 The New Jerusalem ? 
 
 " No, dreamer, no ! albeit I marvel not 
 Such scene strange fancies in thy mind hath wrought : 
 Eye hath not seen, nor mortal heart conceived 
 Though hope pourtrayed, and reverent faith believed, 
 
326 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 The glory of those mansions reared above, 
 Homes for the children of Almighty Love : 
 Yet I remember, when, like thee, I gazed 
 On those dread peaks, admiring and amazed, 
 My spirit kindled at the strange revealing 
 Of God's grand work, and felt as thou art feeling. 
 Lo, now the ethereal pageant melts from sight, 
 All disenchanted by the common light ! 
 
 Yet mayest thou stand, and worship : earth can show 
 No worthier temple than yon spires of snow ; 
 Worship the God, 6 whose silent presence fills 
 The awful solitude of yonder hills : 
 He built them, emblems to man's sight and sense 
 Of Power supreme, immutable, immense. 
 
 Aye, there they stand, as in creation's prime, 
 Above the mouldering wrecks of sin and time ! 
 Man's fatal fall, which all beneath them cursed, 
 Hath left them standing as they stood at first : 
 Unchallenged still they keep their place in heaven, 
 And wear the diadem their God hath given ; 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 327 
 
 And change and death sweeps on o'er sea and land, 
 
 And finds, and leaves them changeless: there they stand." 
 
 " Sooth speakest thou, my heavenly friend ; 
 
 Presumptuous fancy needs reproof, 
 To teach her where her functions end, 
 
 And curh her when she soars aloof ; 
 Else, of some earthly type possest, 
 
 She fondly deems her daring eyes 
 Behold the glories which invest 
 
 Heaven's yet unseen realities. 
 So deemed the earlier saints, when first 
 Upon Judaea's mountains burst 
 
 The day- spring from on high ; 
 Oh then, what visions of delight 
 Came forth, as from the womb of night, 
 
 To Hope's impatient eye ! 
 Portent on portent crowded fast, 
 Each rising grander than the last : 
 
328 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 'And what/ they cried, ' shall bar the road 
 
 Of sunshine, when it streams ahroad ? 
 
 What human what infernal foes 
 
 The godlike Conqueror oppose ? 
 
 Lo, death and hell from empire hurled ! 
 
 And all the kingdoms of the world 
 
 Full soon for God's anointed Son 
 
 Shall blend their myriad crowns in one !' 
 
 Intent upon that blessed hope, 
 
 They proved its energy to cope 
 
 With hardship, pain and loss, 
 ' The coming of the Lord draws nigh, 
 Stand firm, and quit you valiantly, 
 
 Ye soldiers of the Cross !' 
 Ill would those ardent souls have borne, 
 Who ever, at the burst of morn, 
 A look of expectation sent 
 Into the opening firmament, 
 And listened, as the whirlwind pass'd, 
 For the great Angel's trumpet-blast, 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 829 
 
 That sun and stars should set, and rise 
 On eighteen weary centuries, 
 And sin the while its sway uphold, 
 And faith grow weak, and love grow cold, 
 And the great promise slumher still 
 Mid secrets of the Eternal will. 
 
 Oh Heber, if some struggling rays 
 Have glanced across these latter days, 
 If, here and there, a feehle few 
 Would fain the ancient hope renew, 
 Must we again in sadness own 
 The ray eclipsed the hope o'erthrown ? 
 Thou know'st how earnest hearts beat high, 
 How eager tongues did prophesy, 
 When Albion 'gainst her atheist foes, 
 Strong in the might of Truth, arose, 
 And to the Daughter of the sea 
 God 7 gave * the gorgeous East in fee.' 
 
330 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 Methought, 8 by angel hands upraised, 
 Her bannered cross triumphant blazed 
 
 On Nundideva's head : 
 The mountains hailed the sacred sign, 
 And all along their jagged line 
 
 Contagious gladness spread ; 
 Charged with the news a thousand rills 
 Sped forth, swift couriers from the hills ; 
 Great Sanpu 9 burst his icy chains, 
 And shouted to the northern, plains ; 
 Far eastward Barramputra's voice 
 Bade the grim wilderness rejoice ; 
 Down rushed the sister- streams 10 with glee 
 From the twy peaks of Gungo-tri ; 
 Hydaspes 11 o'er his sands of gold 
 Wavelets of gentlest music rolled, 
 Till mighty Indus caught the strain, 
 And told it to the western main. 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 331 
 
 An hundred years are past and gone, 
 Since first on Mahadeva's 12 throne 
 
 The Christian sign was reared ; 
 And did the omen from on high 
 Cast down the ruthless deity, 
 While Albion's angel smiling hy 
 
 Her Christian warriors cheered ? 
 Hath Mercy singing in their van 
 Published the Evangel's wondrous plan, 
 And to the tribes of Hindostan, 
 Bowed like the spirit of one man, 
 
 The Christian's God endeared ? 
 No ! Ganga's corpse-encumbered stream, 
 The murdered widow's stifled scream, 
 The bones that strew Orissa's plain, 13 
 The tortured fakirs' yells of pain, 
 The groans of pilgrims left to die, 
 Mixed with the prowling jackal's cry, 
 The frantic shouts that peal afar, 
 When Lust's 14 red demon yokes his car, 
 
332 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 All ghastly sounds and shapes of woe 
 Return the accusing answer, No ! 
 
 Alas/ 5 my country ! deeper shame 
 Dogs the fair footsteps of thy fame. 
 Was 't not enough with careless eyes 
 To slight the hideous sacrifice ? 
 And are those warriors sons of thine, 
 Who, wheeled into embattled line, 
 Salute with shaded brow and eye 
 The hell-god as he marches by ? 
 Pleads he thy claim, that imp of state, 
 Who haunts the temple's guarded gate, 
 And, ere the infernal rites begin, 
 Sells the poor pagan leave to sin ? 
 
 And l6 hear'st thou not a warning sound, 
 Like that which from her sleep profound 
 Made guilty Zion start, 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 333 
 
 Which burst her Temple gates asunder, 
 Proclaiming with the tongue of thunder, 
 
 ' Arise, let us depart ?' 
 Imaus from his lofty seat 
 Hath seen thy blazoned cross retreat, 
 And, as thy legions backward rushed, 
 Deeply his conscious snows have blushed ; 
 And the five streams, whose blended force 
 Spurs Indus on his downward course, 
 
 Have learned another song ; 
 And Albion's angel stands aghast, 
 As the dread spirit of the past, 
 Summoned before the Throne at last, 
 
 Opens his tale of wrong ; 
 And those, whose eager hearts took fire, 
 Much hoping what they most desire, 
 Mourn, as their dreams of bliss retire, 
 And, sick with hope deferred, inquire, 
 
 ' How long, O Lord, how long ?' ' 
 
334 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 " Poor mortal ! ever, as thy words attest, 
 Too soon elated, and too soon depressed ; 
 Eager to build thine overweening trust 
 On the frail promise of some child of dust ; 
 Flushed with high hope, and shouting loud applause, 
 When man affiances the Almighty's cause ; 
 But, should his fickle purpose melt in air, 
 Prostrate in grief, abandoned to despair ! 
 Pause ! let Imaus teach thee : let him speak 
 In God's behalf from every glittering peak ! 
 Who dares affirm, while he is towering there, 
 God wants a witness 17 or a worshipper ? 18 
 Albeit those peaks, since time his course began, 
 Ne'er saw the face, nor heard the voice of man ; 
 No footstep, soiled by guilt or grief below, 
 E'er dimmed the whiteness of that virgin snow ; 
 Unheeded passed the demigods of War 
 Sesostris, Krishna, Tamerlane, Akbar; 
 Old empires waned, new dynasties bore rule, 
 Persian or Greek, Karasmian or Mogul : 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA MOUNTAINS. 335 
 
 But the calm hills, 19 where cloud nor breeze came nigh, 
 To mar the quiet of their sovereignty, 
 Kemote alike from human grief or mirth,, 
 Kept their long Sabbath between heaven and earth. 
 ' Lift up thine eyes unto the hills :' and thence 
 Take courage : let their still magnificence 
 Announce that o'er the tides o'f human lot 
 There reigns Eternal Truth that change th not. 
 Yon mountains seem to change : 20 when morning fair 
 Thrids with keen light the pure and frosty air, 
 Such dazzling pomp the hoary kings display, 
 Thou scarce wouldst deem them fifty miles away : 
 A few brief hours, and, when the noon's red eye 
 Winks through the vapours of the sultry sky, 
 Those forms, that late such massive strength avowed, 
 Scarce boast the outline of the frailest cloud : 
 Thus, though God's Truth to human faith appear, 
 Seen through a varying medium, far or near, 
 It bides the same ! mountains shall pass away, 
 But the great promise firmer, far than they, 
 
336 THE CROSS PLANTED 
 
 Amid time's giant wrecks shall stand alone, 
 The eternal bulwark of a Saviour's throne. 
 
 Why then despo nd for India ? wherefore deem 
 Those cherished hopes the fabric of a dream ? 
 The statesman's policy, the soldier's sword, 
 Full rarely fights the battles of the Lord : 
 His peaceful kingdom 21 o'er the realm of mind 
 " Comes not with observation " to mankind : 
 Not mid the headstrong battle's stormy flood, 
 " Confused noise and garments rolled in blood," 
 But, where the gentler virtues bloom around, 
 The genuine warriors of the Cross are found 
 " The holy and the humble men of heart/' 22 
 Striving and suffering from the world apart. 
 For conquering Clive or Wellesley's mightier name 
 The wide world echoes to the trump of fame, 
 Yet have there been, who loftier praise have won, 
 Undaunted Schwartz, and saintly Middleton, 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA. MOUNTAINS. 337 
 
 And he 23 that gentlest martyr to the truth, 
 Who in the spring-time of his radiant youth, 
 Forsaking learning's halls and love's retreat, 
 Laid his meek laurels at his Saviour's feet : 
 
 England hath many such : she little knows 
 What to their secret championship she owes ; 
 Their prayers, which night and day to Heaven aspire, 
 Bulwark 24 her empire with a wall of fire, 
 And arm the happy land that gave them hirth 
 With power to build the throne of Christ on earth." 
 
 " Shall Britain then ?" 
 
 " Fond questionist, be still ! 
 I said, she may, I dare not add, she will. 
 Yet rest content : there was a time when I, 
 In the first glow of youthful poesie, 
 Believed I saw the shadows pass away, 
 And the light ' shining unto perfect day ;' 
 Methought, the Lamb had broke the final seal ; 
 I heard the vocal thunder's 25 sevenfold peal ; 
 
338 THE CEOSS PLANTED 
 
 ' E'en now,' * 6 I sang c wide waving o'er the land, 
 
 The mighty Angel lifts his golden wand, 
 
 Courts the bright vision of descending Power, 
 
 Tells 2T every gate, and measures every tower.' 
 
 Boldly I braced the Christian's armour on, 
 
 And dreamed of victories gained, and trophies won ; 
 
 I dreamed myself the Lord's anointed priest, 
 
 To wake to life the churches of the East : 
 
 I saw the cross upon Imaus' crest 
 
 Shed its mild influence on a world at rest ; 
 
 Glad India hailed her Saviour's opening reign ; 
 
 And China's millions echoed back the strain; 
 
 And far and wide Australian isles among 
 
 The great sea lifted up his voice and sung. 
 
 Was the dream false ? Nay, time shall prove it true 
 Not false, but future was the scene I drew ; 
 Herein I erred, that my ambitious heart 
 In the Lamb's triumph claimed too proud a part : 
 
UPON THE HIMALAYA. MOUNTAINS. 339 
 
 Faith asks no leave from Fancy to behold 
 
 What God's own hand hath traced in lines of gold ; 
 
 But Fancy dares, on selfish aims intent, 
 
 To fix the time and choose the instrument. 
 
 ' Be sober then, be vigilant ;' forbear 
 
 To hope or covet ought beyond thy sphere ; 
 
 Only be strong to labour, and 28 allow 
 
 Thy Master's will to appoint thee where and how. 
 
 Serve God ! And winter's cold or summer's heat, 
 
 The breezy mountain or the dusty street, 
 
 Scene, season, circumstance, alike shall be 
 
 His welcome ministers of joy to thee. 
 
 His ' kingdom is within thee ;' rise and prove 
 
 A present earnest of the bliss above ! 
 
 Heaven knows not disappointment ; earth alone 
 
 Mourns wishes unfulfilled, and hope o'erthrown : 
 
 Pass but the golden gates, distrust and doubt 
 
 The brood of guilt and fear are left without : 
 
 Once bathe thine eyes in Heaven's essential light, 
 
 Which 29 casts no shadow, and expects no night, 
 
 z 2 
 
340 THE CROSS PLANTED, &C. 
 
 And all God's mighty works and wondrous ways 
 Shall wake no thought that will not speak in praise ; 
 For thou shalt see Him as He is, and then 
 Shalt own that ' GOD is LOVE.' 
 
 " Amen ! Amen !' 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 Y CADER IDRIS : The Chair of Idris. 
 
 " Who hath not heard of the vale of Cashmere, 
 With its roses, the brightest that earth ever gave ? 
 
 The Light of the Harem, (LALLAH ROOKH.) 
 
 3 When these two lines were written, it was with no suspicion that 
 they were not original. It was not without a feeling of unpleasant 
 surprise that in reading Wordsworth's " Lines on revisiting Tintern 
 Abbey,'' the trick of latent memory was detected, and she was 
 obliged (if not to part with) at least to acknowledge her borrowed 
 plumes. The idea was clearly due to an impression left upon the 
 mind by the following lines 
 
 " Once again 
 
 Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs 
 That on a wild secluded scene impress 
 Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect 
 The landscape with the quiet of the sky." 
 
 4 " A garden enclosed is my sister, my spouse ; a spring shut up, 
 a fountain sealed. Thy plants are an orchard of pomegranates with 
 pleasant fruits ', camphire with spikenard, spikenard with saffron ; 
 
342 NOTES. 
 
 calamus and cinnamon, with all trees of frankincense ; myrrh and 
 aloes, with all the chief spices." Song of Solomon, iv. 12 14. 
 
 5 The author has experienced a feeling of reluctance (probably not 
 imperceptible,) to grapple with the main feature of his subject. He 
 has been awe- smitten into silence, whenever even in imagination he 
 drew near that scene of indescribable magnificence. When at last 
 he did venture into its presence, he was fain to lean upon the 
 friendly hand of that great high-priest of Nature, Wordsworth. 
 
 For the idea presented in the description of day-break on the 
 snowy chain of the Himalaya, he is mainly indebted to a wonderful 
 passage in the Second Book of " The Excursion," depicting some of 
 the aereal phenomena, whereby the mountains are sometimes trans- 
 figured into shapes of celestial grandeur and glory. 
 
 There is strong similarity between the outline of the snowy peaks, 
 as seen from Mount Gaughur, and an enormous city. The following 
 extract from Bishop Heber's Journal, describes the scene referred to 
 in the text : 
 
 " We arrived at the gorge of the pass in an indent between the two 
 principal summits of Mount Gaughur, near 8,600 feet above the 
 sea. 
 
 " And now the snowy mountains, which had been so long eclipsed, 
 opened on us in full magnificence. To describe a view of this kind is 
 only lost labour, and I found it nearly impossible to take a sketch of 
 it : such as I was able to make, I however send with this packet. 
 
 "Nundidevi was immediately opposite. Kedar-Nath was not 
 visible from our present situation ; and Meru only seen as a very dis- 
 tant single peak. The eastern mountains, however, for which I have 
 obtained no name, rose into very great consequence, and were very 
 glorious objects, as we wound down the hill on the other side. The 
 
NOTES. 343 
 
 guides could only tell me that they were a great way off, and bordered 
 upon the Chinese empire." HEBER'S Journal, vol. i. p. 481. 
 
 "Nundidevi," writes Bishop Heber, "the highest peak in the 
 world, is stated to be 25,689 feet above the sea, and 4,000 higher 
 than Chimborazo. The peak which the chuprasses call Meru is pro- 
 perly Sumeru, as distinguished by the modern Pundits, at least, from 
 the celestial and fabulous one : it is really, however, pretty near the 
 source of the Ganges, arid about 23,000 feet high. 
 
 " Kedar-Nath, Gungotri, Sumeru, and Nundidevi, are all within the 
 British territory." HEBER'S Journal, Vol. i. p. 492. 
 
 6 " The reason that I am so much more impressed with the present 
 view is partly the mysterious idea of awful and inaccessible remote- 
 ness, attached to the Indian Caucasus, the centre of earth 
 
 ' Its Altar and its Cradle and its Throne.' 
 
 And still more the knowledge, derived from books, that the objects 
 now before me are really among the greatest earthly works of the Al- 
 mighty Creator's hands the highest spots below the moon out- 
 topping by many hundred feet the summits of Cotopasi and Chim- 
 borazo." HEBER'S Journal, vol. i. p. 451. 
 
 Some idea of the immense altitude and majesty of these mountains 
 may be gathered from Bishop Heber' s description of his first view of 
 them : " We had a first view of the range of the Himalaya, indistinctly 
 seen through the haze, but not so indistinctly as to conceal the general 
 form of the mountains. The nearer hills are blue, and, in outline and 
 tints, resemble pretty much those which close in the valley of Clwyd. 
 Above these rose, what might have been taken for clouds, had not 
 their seat been so stationary, and their outline so harsh and pyramidal 
 the patriarchs of the continent, perhaps the surviving ruins of a 
 former world, white and glistening as alabaster, and, even at this dis- 
 
344 NOTES. 
 
 tance of probably 150 miles, towering over the nearer and secondary 
 range, as much as those last (though said to be 7,600 feet high) are 
 above the plain on which we were standing. 
 
 " At the foot of the lowest hills a long, black, level line extends so 
 black and level, that it might seem to be drawn with ink and a ruler. 
 This is the forest, from which we are still removed several coss, though 
 the country already begins to partake of its insalubrity. The natives 
 call the malaria, with which this forest is haunted, ' Essence of Owl.' " 
 
 Speaking of the nearer view, in climbing over the neck of Mount 
 Gaughur, Bishop Heber thus records his feelings : " I never saw 
 such prospects before, and had formed no adequate idea of such. 
 My attention was completely strained, and my eyes filled with tears : 
 everything around was so wild and magnificent, that man appeared as 
 nothing, and I felt myself as if climbing the steps of the Altar of God's 
 great Temple." HEBER'S Journal, vol. i. p. 480. 
 
 ' " Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee, 
 
 And was the safeguard of the West." 
 
 WORDSWORTH. 
 Sonnet on the Extinction of the Venetian Republic. 
 
 8 There is a curious coincidence with this idea in Isaiah xviii. 2, 3, 
 where a land is described " that sendeth ambassadors by the sea ... 
 saying, Go, ye swift messengers, to a nation scattered and peeled, to a 
 
 people terrible from their beginning hitherto All ye inhabitants 
 
 of the world see ye, when he lifteth up an ensign on the mountains, 
 &c." See also verse 7- 
 
 9 This river has its source in the northern flank of the Himalaya, 
 and then takes an eastward course towards Assam. It was long sup- 
 posed that the Barramputra was a continuation of the same, but recent 
 discoveries have brought this conjecture into disrepute. Lieutenant 
 
NOTES. 345 
 
 P. P. Burlton is stated to have discovered the source of the Barram- 
 putra in a range of snowy mountains in 28 N. lat. and 96 10' E. 
 long. 
 
 10 The Ganges and Jumna. 
 
 11 Ihylum, Behut or Vidusta, the " fabulosus Hydaspes " of Ho- 
 race, has its source in the S. E. corner of the valley of Cashmere. 
 
 12 The five mighty peaks of the Roodroo Himala, otherwise deno- 
 minated Mahadeva Calinga, the throne of Mahadeva or Siva, the 
 Hindu " God of Justice or Vengeance," as Vishnu was the Preserver 
 or Saviour. In a vast semicircular hollow, hemmed in by the five giant 
 summits of the Roodroo, the Bhagirathi (the earliest feeder of the 
 Ganges) takes its rise. From the brow of an immense precipice of 
 snow three hundred feet high, and immediately above the outlet of the 
 stream, large hoary icicles descend. These are called " the hair of 
 Mahadeva," from which, according to the Shasters, the Ganges flows. 
 HODGSON'S Travels to the Source of the Ganges. 
 
 13 From a town called Buddruck, in the province of Orissa, Dr. 
 Buchanan writes, " We know that we are approaching Juggernat, 
 (and yet we are more than fifty miles from it,) by the human bones 
 which we have seen for some days strewed by the way." 
 
 14 Juggernat. For a description of the horrid scenes witnessed 
 during one of the festivals of this idol, reference is made to Dr. 
 Buchanan's letters. He remarks, " the dogs, jackals, and vultures, 
 seem to live here upon human prey j the vultures exhibit a shocking 
 tameness." 
 
 15 Some of the abuses here specified have, it is hoped, been miti- 
 gated, but very lately. 
 
346 NOTES. 
 
 16 Th e Eastern Gate of the Interior Temple," writes Josephus, 
 " which is brazen throughout, and of immense weight, and which 
 used to be shut in the evening by the joint effort of twenty men, 
 which was moreover supported upon hinges cased in iron, and had 
 bolts very deeply shot into the lintel of solid stone, appeared about 
 the sixth hour of the night (midnight) open of its own accord. Cer- 
 tain priests who happened to be near the Inner Shrine, stated that they 
 perceived first a movement and a loud noise as of stamping, and after- 
 wards a multitudinous voice exclaiming METABAINHMEN ENTEY0EN." 
 Tacitus, in his short way, mentions the same circumstance : " Expassae 
 repente delubri fores : et audita major humana vox, ' Excedere Deos :' 
 simul ingens motus excedentium." Histor. v. 13. 
 
 17 " Hear, O ye mountains, the Lord's controversy, and ye strong 
 foundations of the earth; for the Lord hath a controversy with his 
 people, and he will plead with Israel." Micahvi. 2. 
 
 18 " The perpetual hills did bow." Habakkuk iii. 6. 
 
 19 The upper stratum of clouds varies in altitude from about 
 10,000 to 15,000 feet : above this level, any vapour that may exist 
 partakes of the extreme rarity of the atmosphere in which it floats. 
 The same may be said of winds, which, at the immense altitude of some 
 of the highest peaks of the Himalaya, would probably be scarcely if at 
 all perceptible. 
 
 20 " I thought them particularly grand when seen in the grey of the 
 morning, while their cold distinct outline was visible along the dark 
 sky, with no refraction to puzzle, or vapours to conceal it. At other 
 times their forms vary according to the shifting lights and shadows ; 
 and, if it were not for the identity of situation, I could sometimes have 
 doubted whether the peaks which I saw in the haze of noon, were the 
 
NOTES. 347 
 
 same with those, which, in the crimson light of the setting or the amber 
 brilliancy of the rising sun, had delighted me in so different a man- 
 ner." HEBER'S Journey, vol. i. p. 510. 
 
 21 "The kingdom of God cometh not with observation." Luke 
 xvii. 20. 
 
 22 " Ye holy and humble men of heart, bless ye the Lord; praise 
 Him and magnify Him for ever." Benedicite omnia opera. 
 
 23 Henry Martyn. 
 
 24 " I, saith the Lord, will be unto her a wall of fire round about, 
 and will be the glory in the midst of her." Zech. ii. 5. 
 
 25 " And when he had cried, seven thunders uttered their voices, 
 &c." Rev. x. 47. 
 
 25 These four lines are taken from the concluding passage of He- 
 ber's "Palestine ;" the whole passage is conceived in a strain of 
 mingled poetry and prophecy, entirely accordant with that attributed 
 to him in the text. Indeed, the liberty which has been taken in the 
 poem with that honoured name, would be scarcely justifiable without 
 the fullest authority for the expressions which have been put into his 
 mouth. It is trusted that the extracts from his writings may be al- 
 lowed to furnish such authority. 
 
 27 " And he that talked with me had a golden reed to measure the 
 city, and the gates thereof, and the wall thereof." Rev. xxi. 10 21. 
 Allusion is made to this vision of the New Jerusalem in the former 
 part of the Poem, in the passage commencing 
 
 " Is it the vision seen erewhile 
 By the lone saint in Patmos' isle ?" 
 
 28 " Peter saith to Jesus, Lord, and what shall this man do ? Jesus 
 
348 NOTES 
 
 saith unto him, If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee ? 
 Follow thou me!" John xxi. 21, 22. 
 
 29 Karrafioiivov cwrJ) TOV Tlarpbs TWV (fxaruv, Trap' $ OVK evi Trappa\\ayr] fy 
 TpoTTjjs airoffKiafffj.a with whom is no variableness, neither is he changed 
 into darkness. TYNDALE'S and C BAN MER'S Version of JAMES iv 17. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 CHRONOLOGICALLY AEEANGED. 
 
THE Editors have arranged the following Poems according to 
 their dates, as far as they have been known ; they are spread over a 
 considerable space of time, and were written under very different 
 circumstances. Some were composed by the Author when he was 
 at school; some during his residence in Cambridge, and when 
 spending his long vacations at the Lakes or in Wales ; others have 
 been written in after periods of his life. This will account to the 
 reader for any variation of feeling or sentiment that they may be 
 found to express. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO HIS MOTHER ON HER BIRTHDAY. 
 
 OH they were not in vain ! were not in vain ! 
 Thy days of sorrow and thy hours of pain ! 
 When, o'er the cradle of our tender years. 
 Rose the warm incense of a Mother's prayers. 
 Then it was sweet to mark the innocent smile 
 Play round the lip of infancy, the while 
 It viewed its parent's features, to descry 
 The dawn of reason in its kindling eye, 
 And, o'er its little lips in rapture hung, 
 To catch the lispings of th' unfettered tongue. 
 These were thy pleasures then ! The infant breast 
 Soon the young flame of filial love confessed ; 
 
352 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And, ere the mind that earliest flame approved, 
 Loved without knowing whom or what it loved. 
 Years have rolled on : affection cannot tire ; 
 Still glows her altar with the Vestal fire, 
 Shining more fixedly, more clearly bright, 
 While reason owns that nature taught aright. 
 Yes, dearest Mother ! if thy tender eye 
 Gazed fondly o'er our helpless infancy, 
 And joyed in those imperfect signs to see 
 The first expressions of it's love to thee, 
 Wilt thou not now receive and now approve 
 The plainer tokens of more perfect love 
 Love, which the world's best feelings far outvies, 
 Binding in stronger, purer, happier ties, 
 Reigning when other passions shall subside, 
 Which time corrupts not, death cannot divide ? 
 Thou hast, by mild instruction early given, 
 Bent our young footsteps on the road to heaven. 
 And now from realms of light beyond the grave, 
 Bursts the broad splendour o'er th' illumined wave ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 353 
 
 Now the tossed bark upon life's stormy sea 
 Springs to its haven of eternity ; 
 E'en now from fairer climes a purer gale 
 Pours its rich fragrance on the shattered sail, 
 Oh haste we on ! 'till every trial cease 
 In perfect holiness and perfect peace : 
 Till in that world of life, and love, and bliss, 
 The cup shall satisfy,, we taste in this. 
 
 West Bilney Lodge, 
 Feb. 13, 1825. 
 
 A A 
 
354 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 ON MEMOKY. 
 
 WHEN the wrung heart, with passionate regret, 
 
 Dwells upon joys too beautiful to last, 
 And o'er the fond remembrance lingers yet, 
 
 As if its dreaming could recall the past ; 
 When fades the present from the wildered sight, 
 
 As musing memory shifts the fancied scene, 
 Till we can almost grasp the lost delight, 
 
 Feel as we felt, and be as we have been ; 
 Feel yes, a livelier, tenderer beauty springs 
 
 O'er the loved features of each happy day ; 
 For memory's touch, in bright profusion, brings 
 
 All, all the joy, but steals the gloom away; 
 When that we fondly loved, and now deplore, 
 
 Glides o'er the soul like moonlight o'er the sea, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 355 
 
 And wears a smile, perchance, it never wore, 
 
 And seems a being it could never be ; 
 And when, at length, those rainbow-colours fade, 
 
 Which fancy's sunbeam on the past could throw, 
 When clouds and tears come hurrying on instead, 
 
 And we are left to certainty and woe ; 
 Left but to find our rose-twined garland dead, 
 
 To see the future darken on our view, 
 To mourn those joyous days for ever fled, 
 
 And vainly madden o'er the long adieu ; 
 Oh, then we feel how empty and how vain, 
 
 Is human pleasure in its gayest dress ; 
 We feel our sky but smiles to frown again, 
 
 And earth is not the home of happiness ! 
 And then a sweet, pure light creeps trembling in, 
 
 Unlike romantic fancy's frolic ray, 
 Which seems unnoticed on the mind to win, 
 
 With the bright promise of a better day. 
 It is not Hope, at least, not that which says 
 
 That the loved past shall in the future live, 
 
 A A 2 
 
356 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Which like the meteor's wild illusion plays, 
 
 And points to joys it never means to give ; 
 It is not Love, for absence, time, or art, 
 
 Its soft impressions may too soon efface, 
 Or death's cold touch may chill the faithful heart, 
 
 Where we had fondly built our dwelling-place : 
 No ! 'tis from worlds more bright than this below> 
 
 That trembling sunbeam draws its sacred birth, 
 And bids the breast its own sweet comfort know, 
 
 Too pure for sense ! too beautiful for earth ! 
 'Tis from those realms where we may shortly prove 
 
 How bright, how pure, affection's lamp may burn ; 
 Where we may gaze upon the face we love, 
 
 Nor dread the anguish of a cold return ; 
 Where, waking memory to a second birth, 
 
 We may, untroubled, trace the path we trod, 
 And having vainly sought for rest on earth, 
 
 May find it in the bosom of our God. 
 
 Date not known. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 357 
 
 FROM A BROTHER TO HIS SISTER 
 
 ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 
 
 OH, dinna ye ken, how the daisies bloom 
 
 Suld deck the lily lea, 
 
 How the bright sun, glinting through the gloom, 
 Suld brust the violet's mossy tomb 
 
 To twine a wreath for thee ? 
 But, wae for the lang, lang winter daie ! 
 Baith violet blue, and daisie gaie, 
 And " the flowers of the forest are a' wede away !" 
 
 I hae na wreath for thee, lassie, 
 I hae na wreath for thee, 
 Na wilding nursed by spring's ain sigh, 
 Na blossom springing tardilie, 
 
358 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To twine aboot thy bree : 
 But, ah, I send my tiny lay, 
 Wi' prayers for mony an happy daie, 
 Though " the flowers of the forest are a' wede away. 
 
 For kenned by Him, wha dwells above, 
 
 A brither's prayer maun be ; 
 And, oh, methinks a brither's love, 
 Than these frail diamonds of the grove, 
 
 A fairer wreath for thee. 
 Twill live through life's short cloudy daie ; 
 'Twill bloom in heaven's eternal ray ; 
 When " the flowers of the forest are a* wede away." 
 
 Cambridge, 
 March 25, 1826. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 359 
 
 STORM ON SCAWFELL, IN CUMBERLAND. 
 
 I STOOD upon the mountain, whose vast brow 
 Looks down his four concentrate vales below ; 
 Here Esk smiles coyly thro' his woody glade ; 
 There Wastdale's chaos flings its length of shade; 
 Next, in bright contrast with that gloomy vale, 
 The life and loveliness of Borrowdale ; 
 And last, that wild and deep and swampy dell, 
 Where Langdale's summits frown upon Bowfell. 
 And all seemed hushed : the very clouds had rest, 
 Gathering sleepily round the mountain's breast ; 
 Nature held in her breath, and list'ning deep 
 Waited the rousing of the whirlwind's sleep. 
 It came ; and riding round the darkened fell, 
 Blew its shrill trumpet down tho startled dell ; 
 
300 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Then walked the thunder forth ; in red right hand, 
 Shaking the terrors of the levin-brand ; 
 Pronouncing, as his lurid floor he trod, 
 The incommunicable name of God ; 
 A few loose ragged notes, then, clear and strong, 
 In one tremendous peal it rolled its power along : 
 The mountain streams, to sudden fulness grown, 
 Filled up the pauses with their tenor tone : 
 And then the general chorus all at once 
 Lifted their voice in concert torrents glance, 
 The shrill blast shrieked the treble, and aloud 
 The big base bellowed from the thunder cloud : 
 Then earth took up the strain ; at one fierce bound 
 Burst forth her organ's energy of sound, 
 Whose pipes were valleys ; each romantic dell 
 Prolonged the note that centred in Scawfell, 
 And told it to its mountains : 'twould rejoice 
 The dullest ear that mingled storm of voice, 
 As those old hills' immense chaotic frame 
 Sent up the tumult of their glad acclaim ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 361 
 
 Grey Skiddaw called Blencathra, and passed on 
 The song of echoes down thy vale, St. John ; 
 Then back it rolled, and in his gloomy dwelling, 
 Woke up the spirit of the lone Helvellyn, 
 Who yelled deep welcome as the wild notes passed, 
 And Dunmail-raise and Kirkstone heard the last. 
 
 And I felt, as I stood on the wild hill's slope, 
 How the tempest had stirred my spirits up ; 
 And I lifted mine own weak voice on high, 
 Mid the general roar of earth and sky ; 
 And I sang to the storm as it drifted by ; 
 And 'twas very sad, as the last notes died, 
 Fainting away on the mountain's side. 
 But 'tis all in vain in a stranger's ear, 
 To speak of the things that we see and hear ; 
 And would you know what it is to be 
 As airy, and happy, and bright, and free, 
 
362 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 As the zephyr that plays on the sunny lea, 
 
 Would you hear what I hear, would you see what I see, 
 
 You must come to the mountain and dwell with me. 
 
 Written at the Lakes, 
 Summer, 1826. 
 
THE 
 
 DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
THIS Poem was written for the Chancellor's Medal in the year 
 1827. It was understood at the time that the votes of the Examiners 
 were equally divided between this exercise and that of the successful 
 candidate ; but, in consequence of the decision having been given in 
 favour of the latter by a casting vote, the Vice-Chancellor ordered 
 that a second prize of books, of the value of 7 105., should be awarded 
 to the Writer of this Poem. (Eo.) 
 
The following Poem is supposed to be the lament of one of the Druid 
 bards, after the battle of Mona. 
 
" Goe, little booke, thyself present, 
 As child, whose parent is unkent, 
 To him that is the president ! 
 And, when his honour hath thee redde, 
 Crave pardon for thy hardy-hedde : 
 But, when thou art past jeopardie, 
 Come, tell me what was said of mee." 
 
 Introduction to the S/tepherd's Calendar, 
 
THE 
 
 DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
 Kai juV trri iv xpTjora Si8a|o> Tnoreuw rovaSe Qeards, 
 
 et Ka.ivoTO[J.f1v e0eA.ir;<roi/(riV, Kal fify TO?S tfQeffi \lav 
 
 rots apxaiois evSiarpifieiv TOUT' eo-0' '6 /xaAto-To SeSotfco.* 
 
 ARISTOPH. Ecd. 583. 
 
 I AM come here to die ! the battle's yell 
 
 Hath fainted into stillness ; and I hail 
 Nature's bland voice again, the mellow swell 
 
 Of the far billow, which the moon-beam pale 
 
 Hath kissed into repose, the evening gale, 
 Rich with the spoil of violets, seems to creep 
 
 On the charmed ear so softly musical, 
 As it would bid the wretched cease to weep, 
 And o'er the victor's rage fling the sweet spell of sleep. 
 
 * The Greek motto has respect to the adoption of the Spenserian 
 metre instead of the verse usually employed for the Chancellor's poem. 
 
 -(ED.) 
 
368 THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
 Yes, let him sleep, and wake to toil again ! 
 
 Yet be there other sleepers, round whose bed 
 The balmy tears of eve are wept in vain ; 
 
 And morn will smile it cannot wake the dead. 
 
 Spirits of song ! my brethren ! are ye fled ?- 
 Ye have not lived to rue a tyrant's hate, 
 
 To see your shrines your dwellings ravished ; 
 I do not dare not mourn your glorious fate ; 
 But feel that ye are gone, and I am desolate. 
 
 My lonely lyre ! my hand is on thy string, 
 It is the last last time ! my childhood's toy, 
 
 Fond solace of my youth, wilt thou not bring 
 To my last hour one parting note of joy ? 
 I do remember, when a wayward boy, 
 
 How I would woo thee, till my soul caught fire, 
 And glowed and maddened in the sweet employ 
 
 How I would far from human eye retire, 
 To talk in solitude with thee, my lonely lyre ! 
 
THE DRUID'S LAMENT, 309 
 
 Then, Mona ! 'mid thy forest- grandeur nursed, 
 
 I drank the rapture of thy Druid's strain ; 
 Then airy forms on fancy's slumher burst, 
 
 And youth's bright dreams, as beautiful as vain. 
 
 Yet not at once that Druid loosed the chain 
 That bound my soul, and bade it, madly whirled 
 
 In fire-wheeled car, Heaven's peerless height attain : 
 But darkly, 1 slowly the dread truth unfurled, 
 And drew the curtain back, that veils another world. 
 
 Sweet Memory ! touched by thee, enjoyment past 
 A brighter hue a livelier beauty wears ; 
 
 And thou art wont, in playful mood, to cast 
 The rainbow's lustre o'er a scene of tears : 
 Thus now, beneath thy softened tint, appears 
 
 The pang the struggle, when my soul was riven 
 From all of earth that soothes, enchants, endears, 
 
 From human passion's blandishment, and given, 
 With all its warmth of zeal, 2 to solitude and heaven. 
 
 B B 
 
370 THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
 The faith I cherished was a feeJing rife 
 
 With poesy and grandeur and delight. 
 Oh ! when Belinus woke the world to life, 
 
 My eager hand would rouse his 3 beacon bright ! 
 
 My song would chide the lingering gloom of night ! 
 And, as he rose, and, flinging from the sky 
 
 Bound 4 Snowdon's brow his glittering wreath of light, 
 Laughed on the waves, that smiled responsively, 
 My spirit caught a glow for mortal breast too high. 
 
 And him the storm-god Taranis, whose eye 
 
 Glares through the clouds in lightning, where the rout 
 
 Of mingled elements rolls hurrying by 
 
 Him have I worshipped ; and his awful shout 
 That chorus, by his deep voice bellowed out, 
 
 Was full of joy and melody to me. 
 
 I loved to hear it leap heaven's vault about ; 
 
 Till earth took up the song with noisy glee, 
 And pealed from all her hills its fierce antistrophe. 5 
 
THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 371 
 
 There 6 be some moments to our musing given 
 Full of eternity ! and such were mine ; 
 
 When I could feel this bosom-spark of Heaven, 
 This purer essence of a breath divine 
 Gaze back on what it had been to its shrine 
 
 Of other years ; or raise, in shadowy files, 
 Visions of future being, till it shine 
 
 Throned in the splendor of those sunny isles, 
 Where endless pleasures reign, and cloudless beauty smiles. 
 
 But such were lonely joys ! The festive song, 
 The slow procession and the solemn rite, 
 
 The shout, that rung the startled woods among, 
 " Gather the mystic branch, the year's last night 
 " Melts into morn 1" these once could wake delight ; 
 
 'Twas proud to see the Druid throng sweep by, 
 
 Their white robes glistening in the moon's young light, 
 
 Which, struggling through the oak's dark shade on high, 
 Glanced on the scene below of sacred revelry. 
 
 B B a 
 
372 THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
 Oft 7 too we tracked the forest's deep abyss, 
 To seek such wilding herb, or summer flower, 
 
 In whose bright chalice evening's dewy kiss 
 Nursed health or poison : at this dreadful hour 
 I thank those venomed leaves, whose kindly power 
 
 Shall free my longing spirit : once I blessed 
 A charm, that, gathered from a fairer bower, 
 
 Poured refluent vigour through the purest breast 
 That e'er for mortal youth love's trembling flame confessed. 
 
 Yes, I did love her, 8 though that love to me 
 Was all forbidden rapture ! her pale cheek 
 
 Sunk on my throbbing breast, and droopingly 
 Bowed her frail form, so delicately weak ; 
 
 I waved the vervain-bough, and strove to speak 
 The potent spell oh heaven ! it died away, 
 
 Her eye's delirious fire the livid streak 
 That stained her brow ! and, in its stead, a ray 
 Beamed forth, more mildly bright than parting blush of day. 
 
THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 373 
 
 Hence radiant phantom ! vainly beautiful ! 
 
 Thine eye's blue languor, and thy sun-kissed hair 
 Have soothed my soul : but now 'tis cramped and dull 
 
 In the cold desolation of despair. 
 
 Hence loveliness ! I'll seek, in thought, the bare 
 And rugged piles, which Genii's strength and skill 
 
 Toiled a proud temple to our gods to rear. 
 I'll think of that fierce pang, whose shuddering thrill 
 Froze me, when first I marked the vital stream distill 
 
 From human victim's side ; with ruthless aim 
 
 The priest 9 had dealt the blow ; the seer stood nigh, 
 
 Watching each motion of the quivering frame 
 Each strong contortion of the lip and eye : 
 He bade me strike my lyre ; unknowing why, 
 
 I tremblingly obeyed : 10 but, mark ! the while 
 The victim 's sunken cheek beamed faint reply 
 
 To notes, that thus could deadliest throe beguile, 
 And his pale lip grew still, and froze into a smile. 
 
374 THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
 These were thy rites, red Hesus ! n but to thee 
 There was a gentler sacrifice of song. 
 
 How, 12> mid the feast of shells, I've smiled to see 
 The whirlwind passions of the savage throng 
 Spell-bound by music ; now the war-note strong 
 
 Yelled in deep concert to the martial strain, 
 That bounded swellingly my chords along ; 
 
 And then I hushed them into tears again, 
 With a low wailing dirge for early valour slain. 
 
 One night one solemn night with him, my guide 
 Of early youth, my Druid-friend, I sought 
 
 x 
 
 The solitary shore ; the breeze had died, 
 
 And scarce its gentle kiss one dimple wrought 
 
 In ocean's cheek : hepaused; the moon-beam caught 
 
 His face upraised to heaven, and, as it shone, 
 
 Tinged with a paler hue those lines of thought ; 
 
 He seized my lyre, and woke one deep deep tone 
 " Mortal/' 13 he cried, " attend ! know God is God alone. 
 
THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 375 
 
 Gaze forth into creation ! view him there ! 
 
 His voice is thunder, and his shadow, light ! 
 The forms of earth the glorious gems of air 
 
 Are symbols of his attributes : his might 
 
 Called this fair orb from chaos and from night ; 
 And yet again shall that blue sky be furled, 
 
 That page, deep stamped with characters so bright 
 Of praise and power, again to ruin hurled ! 
 Fierce flames shall spread a pall above this smiling world I" 1 * 
 
 Would that dread hour were come ! I could rejoice 
 
 To see those flames, in earth's deep bosom pent, 
 Bear the red flag of havoc ; and the voice 
 
 Of the Omnipotent, in thunder sent, 
 
 Annihilate the Universe ; content 
 My soul fair Nature's blackening wreck would scan, 
 
 Spring forth into its native element, 16 
 And revel in its liberty : it can 
 Bow to the will of Heaven, not to the yoke of man. 
 
376 THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
 My country ! 16 I have gazed upon thy face 
 Thy sleeping face thy moon-light loveliness ; 
 
 Then was such grandeur mingled with such grace, 
 I could scarce weep away the fond excess 
 Of passionate admiration ; thy blue dress 
 
 Thy beauteous zone of ocean ! Snowdon's might, 
 Whose rugged sides each varied shade confess 
 
 Of ebon and of ivory ! At night 
 Say who could look on these, and weep not at the sight ? 
 
 Yes, weep, and love, and worship ; so did I : 
 
 But now grief, anger, hatred, shame, remorse, 
 Have made the fountains of my soul grow dry, 
 
 Have frozen the tide of feeling in its course. 
 
 My country, thou art lost ! a tyrant's force 
 Winds his base chain around thy giant hills, 
 
 Withers thy sacred oaks, and, oh, far worse ! 
 Enslaves thy free-born sons, and coldly spills 
 Thy heart's best blood ! 'Tis well ! he is no foe who kills. 
 
THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 377 
 
 We fought for thee, my country ; 'twas the strife 
 Of desperate rage the struggle of despair 
 
 The last wild stroke for liberty and life : 
 
 We braved the invader in his fierce career ; 
 Thy heroine daughters with their flowing hair, 
 
 Poured in mad onset on the foe, and high 
 
 liaised the shrill shriek, and tossed the torch in air ; 
 
 Thy grey rocks, echoing back their thrilling cry, 
 Sent the dread war-note forth " To death or victory !" 
 
 On on we rushed ; the Roman's serried file 
 Shrunk, as it marked the coming tempest grow, 
 
 Then paused with sullen and contemptuous smile, 
 And calmly stern determinately slow, 
 Levelled at once the lance's bristling row : 
 
 On on we rushed, what recked we if to die ? 
 My brethren bared their bosom to the foe, 
 
 Blessing the murderer with their latest sigh, 
 Whose mercy gave but chains whose death-blow, liberty. 
 
878 THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 
 
 Kejoice, proud Empress of a groaning world ! 
 
 Where battle's crimson tide flows deep and strong, 
 Be thy triumphant eagle's wing unfurled ! 
 
 And, when soft peace glides laughingly along, 
 
 Thine he the festive dance the joyous song ! 
 I do not curse thee, Borne. Live, tyrant! live ! 
 
 Yet is there One will measure wrong for wrong 
 The God 17 the God of vengeance ; He will give 
 As thou hast given ; for me I spurn thee, and forgive. 
 
 Ha ! 18 'twas the shriek of death ! again ! again ! 
 
 What visions to my strengthened eye are given ! 
 A fiery shore a Wood -empurpled main 
 
 Through lurid clouds of smoke, in tumult driven, 
 
 The scythe- armed chariot helm and buckler riven : 
 Yes, Britain triumphs ! Britain's warrior -queen ! 
 
 Home bites the dust ; right bravely have ye striven, 
 Children of liberty ! The time hath been 
 When bards would hymn your praise; and yet again, I ween, 
 
THE DRUID'S LAMENT. 379 
 
 That time will come : the veil is half withdrawn 
 The future's veil of gloom ; I see ! I see 
 
 The horizon purpling with thy glory's dawn, 
 My native land ! thy sons shall yet be free 
 And brave, but not in vain; thy name shall be 
 
 The rallying- shout of nations heard afar 
 
 In distant lands, and thundered o'er the sea : 
 
 Thy blood red standard, victory's beacon-star, 
 Shall stream with meteor-flash along the clouds of war. 
 
 And then, perchance, this fluttering soul of mine, 
 
 That thus in music sighs itself away, 
 Again shall prompt some happier bard, to twine 
 
 Thy fadeless oak- wreath with his rapturous lay 
 
 To sing the triumphs of thy brighter day. 
 Till then, farewell, dark Mona's woody dell ! 
 
 Farewell, thou deep blue sea ! ye mountains grey ! 
 Farewell, my lyre ! thy last expiring swell 
 Just echoes it is past : my lonely lyre, farewell ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
 1 They communicated their doctrines in riddles and allegories. 
 Kal <f>acrl TOVS fiev Tv/j.voaotyia'ra.s Kal ApufSas aiVt7juaT8eos <><Aotro<J}o'Ui. 
 
 DIOG. LAERT. L. 6. 
 
 2 Twenty years was the period of education for those who were to be 
 initiated : it was to be conducted " in locis ruinosis et sylvestribus." 
 
 3 Beltane-fires to the Sun in spring. 
 
 4 I have followed the example of Mason in using the modern name 
 of this mountain. 
 
 5 Of course I mean not to insinuate, by using this word, that the 
 Druid had any idea of the Greek division of the choral ode. I could 
 find no other word that reached what I wished to express so well : I 
 have therefore ventured it. 
 
 6 Their idea of the doctrine of transmigration was, that the soul, 
 after progressive perfection, in various forms, was finally settled in " an 
 island of the blest." 
 
 7 Hoc genus Vatum Medicorumque. PLIN. xxx. 1 . 
 
 8 The Druids appear to have considered themselves obliged to ce- 
 libacy. 
 
 9 I have endeavoured here to observe the three different orders of 
 
382 NOTES, 
 
 Druids. The Bards The Faids or prophets The Druids or priests. 
 
 10 Since they divined by the actions of the victim, after the fatal 
 blow, the omen thus elicited would be favourable. 
 
 11 horrensque feris altaribus Hesus. LUCAN. 
 
 12 " The feast of shells." Ossi AN. So called from the drinking 
 vessels being shells. 
 
 13 The first of the Druid mysteries revealed to the initiated. 
 
 14 Conditum mundum credebant, et aliquando igne periturum. 
 AMMIAN. MARCELLIN. 
 
 15 The Druids held many doctrines in common with the Persians. 
 Their veneration for fire was one. 
 
 16 Love of the parent soil, much inculcated among the Druids. 
 
 17 The Druids believed in the existence of a retributive Providence. 
 
 18 Foeminae, in furore turbatse "adesse exitium '' canebant. Ex- 
 ternosque fremitus in curia eorum auditos : consonuisse ululatibus 
 theatrum, visamque speciem in sestuario subversse colonise, jam 
 Oceanum, cruento aspectu; delabente sestu, humanorum corporum 
 effigies relictas ut Britanni ad spem, ita veterani ad metum trahebant. 
 TACIT. Ann. xiv. 32. 
 
 The storming of Camalodunum immediately succeeded the devasta- 
 tion of Mona. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 383 
 
 MY LONELY LYRE. 
 
 " We'll hush the unsuccessful strain 
 And seek our silent woods again." 
 
 ELLEN FITZ-.ARTHUR. 
 
 MY lonely lyre ! thou hast betrayed me now ! 
 Thou wert my hope my love my joy my all 
 
 And I once thought tliee too my friend and thou 
 Couldst fling a charm a beauty o'er the pall 
 Of withered happiness at thy soft call, 
 
 I know not what, but something would inspire 
 My soul with gladness ; as the breast of Saul 
 
 Melted to such deep eloquence such fire 
 Of sound. Thou hast betrayed me now my lonely lyre ! 
 
384 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 My lonely lyre ! thou knowest me as I am, 
 
 Not as I seem to others : and to thee 
 My fears hopes feelings passions every flame 
 
 That warms or -blasts me is discovered free 
 
 My soul poured forth its treasures that wild sea 
 Of tumult and of softness -joy and woe. 
 
 The dearest friend can never win from me 
 The secrets thou hast won thou badest them flow, 
 Like tears that grief had frozen thou hast betrayed me now. 
 
 I trusted thee for fame it was weak trust : 
 But thou didst promise, and I dared believe 
 
 And so I trusted thee it was unjust, 
 At least unkind thus coldly to deceive 
 And fling me forth, men's mockery to receive 
 
 " Or, what is worse, their pity" I had borne, 
 
 With lip that writhed not heart that would not grieve, 
 
 The sneer of envy or the smile of scorn, 
 Hadst thou been faithful but to have my patience worn 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 385 
 
 With comfort and condolence and for thee 
 
 Thou tinkling plaything! thou soft lady's toy ! 
 Thou gilded nonsense ! to whose minstrelsy 
 
 It had been hard to task the veriest boy 
 
 To listen for an hour it might annoy 
 A mind more patient far than mine ; begone ! 
 
 If there were one whose peace I would destroy, 
 I well might breathe the wish, that such an one 
 Might trust thy faith like me and be like me undone. 
 
 Twas thus I thought and when T do remember 
 The blight and blackening that at once effaced 
 
 My dream of hope and how thy clouds, December, 
 O'er my bright sky their gloomy shadows cast 
 How, in a moment, stripped the flattering past 
 
 Of all its smiles and from my future lot 
 Dashed each fair form, hope's rainbow touch had traced, 
 
 And changed it into bitterness such thought 
 Howe'er I grieve that I indulged I marvel not. 
 
 c c 
 
386 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But now I think less wildly it is gone 
 
 That dream of fame and now, perchance again 
 
 I learn the truth that I may live unknown, 
 And not less happily ; 'twas very vain, 
 And worse than foolish to suppose a strain, 
 
 That scarce might move affection's partial mind, 
 Could challenge justice ; why should I complain 
 
 That I have failed at stranger's hand to find 
 What friendship might deny nor yet be deemed unkind ? 
 
 I have called others proud and much have home, 
 For having dared to say so be it known 
 
 To such as understand me, tho' I scorn 
 To unsay that saying, I am forced to own 
 All I have charged on them to smart and groan 
 
 Beneath the writhing of that pang they must 
 Forgive me now methinks, it might atone 
 
 For such my folly, that I now am thrust 
 From fancy's airy throne to my too kindred dust. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 387 
 
 Yet have I comfort 'mid those groves of fir, 
 That murmur peace around my quiet home, 
 
 I'll wake my lyre again, not to the stir 
 Of mad ambition ; be the sun-writ tome 
 Of nature, all my learning, the 'crisped foam 
 
 Of the free brook, my fame, thy gentle fire, 
 Devotion, my sweet Muse, the praise of some 
 
 Whose smile is all to me, my prize ; aspire 
 To such and I will love thee still, my lonely lyre ! 
 
 Cambridge, 
 May 29, 1827. 
 
 C C 
 
388 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 HAGHMATA MA9HMATA. 
 
 CORRIPUI citharam lauram dare Granta solebat 
 
 Vatibus at lauram non mihi Granta dedit. 
 Ecce iterum ! fortasse lyram meliora manebunt 
 
 Fata iterum damnant tristia fata lyram. 
 Tertia pugna subit jacturaque tertia, Musam 
 
 Ter-victam ex acie turn revocare licet. 
 Parce, miser, doceantque ^aB^aTa bina poetam 
 
 Jam sapere ! Ah nunquam, crede, poeta sapit. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 389 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 GRANTA, with all a mother's eye, regards 
 
 The first faint efforts of her embryo bards ; 
 
 And rears a throne, and twines a deathless bay, 
 
 To deck the deftest scribbler of the day. 
 
 I wrote, and failed, 'twas but for scribbling sake ; 
 
 A freshman never wins but by mistake. 
 
 Again I seized my pen, invoked amain 
 
 Fortune's fair smile, but fortune frowned again. 
 
 Once more. Nay, sir, 'tis folly to keep on, 
 
 When fate and reason warn you to have done ; 
 
 And, by your double failure of the prize, 
 
 Might teach the veriest booby to be wise : 
 
 Once more ? sheer madness, sir, I'd have you know it, 
 
 Quite inconsistent. Not, sir, with a poet. 
 
 Cambridge, May, 1827. 
 
390 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 FANCY. 
 
 OH, ask me not where fancy lies ! 
 For fancy comes and fancy flies, 
 And fancy lives, and fancy dies, 
 
 A moment's fitful ray : 
 Just comes one bright, bright smile to bring, 
 Just shakes one dew-drop from her wing, 
 Just strikes one note from airy string, 
 
 And then away, away. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 391 
 
 Oh, ask me not where fancy dwells ! 
 It is not in the deep green dells, 
 It is not in the blue hare bells, 
 
 That deck the sunny lea. 
 Oh, ask me not where fancy strays ! 
 It is not on the winter's blaze, 
 Where the sun's last and loveliest rays 
 
 Melt in the sleeping sea. 
 
 Oh, ask me not what fancy sings ! 
 They are not visionary things, 
 The poet's vain imaginings, 
 
 That breathe that long deep tone : 
 Ah, no ! for fancy's harp -strings clear 
 Are wet with lingering memory's tear, 
 Who weeps those touching notes to hear, 
 
 She wakes for me alone. 
 
392 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh, ask me not what fancy's spell 
 Hath wound around my soul too well ! 
 To thee 'twere all in vain to tell, 
 
 Impertinent as vain : 
 Tis past of those bright curls which lie 
 Wreathed in their golden brilliancy, 
 Of the soft blue light of that sunny eye, 
 
 I dare not dream again. 
 
 March, 1827. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 393 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 THERE is a sunbeam beautifully shining 
 
 Through the dark clouds with care and sorrow rife : 
 There is a rose-wreath delicately twining 
 
 Among the brambles in the path of life : 
 
 There is a sweet bird exquisitely singing, 
 Albeit rude thorns upon her bosom press : 
 
 There is a fountain musically springing 
 
 From the cold rocks of life's sad wilderness : 
 
 There is a fair orb, to this world pertaining, 
 
 Which strives full meekly with the gloom of night ; 
 
 But all its radiance, all its beauty gaining, 
 From the great source of universal light. 
 
394 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Is it not friendship, that delightful feeling, 
 All human griefs, all human joys ahove ; 
 
 But most its purest, tenderest charms revealing, 
 When stamped and softened with the form of love ? 
 
 Oh, 'tis the sunbeam mercifully lighting 
 Hope's glittering rainbow on the clouds of woe ; 
 
 Tis the sweet rose-wreath the tired eye inviting, 
 That hides the harshness of the thorn below ; 
 
 'Tis the dear bird, her cheering aid bestowing 
 On others' griefs, unmindful of her own ; 
 
 'Tis the clear streamlet, in the desert flowing, 
 That springs most purely from the hardest stone. 
 
 'Tis the bright planet, whose benign attendance 
 Doth half our darkness and our fears remove ; 
 
 But borrows all its beautiful resplendence 
 From the high essence of a God of Love. 
 1826. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 395 
 
 MATHEMATICS. 
 
 THERE is a peevish, cross, ill-natured creature. 
 With little charm to boast in mind or feature, 
 Figure squat, stumpy, anything but fair, 
 Curved legs, face circular, and body square, 
 A curious animal ; but still, 'tis true, 
 This is the wretch my father bade me woo. 
 And I, full oft, most dutifully strove 
 To win her kindness or awake her love ; 
 Content to leave and lose the sweeter bliss 
 Of one, who sometimes lets me steal a kiss, 
 A bright and airy spirit, one of those, 
 Whose voice steals softly o'er the heart's repose, 
 Who paints with rainbow-touch the clouds of heaven, 
 Who weds the sunbeam to the waves at even ; 
 One whom I knew my first, my dearest joy, 
 Youth's fond companion, childhood's early toy. 
 
396 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But I will chide her hence whatever she be, 
 The other damsel is the bride for me. 
 You knew her, Carus, once, and bask'd the while 
 Beneath the favour of her sunniest smile ; 
 And you did promise, you would come and see 
 If you could not transfer her love to me. 
 I thought you could at least I hoped you mi^ht 
 Smooth down old quarrels and set new ones right, 
 Might bring us both, each angry feeling past, 
 Beneath one vinculum to stand at last, 
 Extract each root, impossible before, 
 Whence mutual hatred reared its deadly flower, 
 Transform to softness her ungracious parts, 
 Subtract our difference, and equate our hearts. 
 Come then, dear friend ; at least 'tis worth the trial ; 
 Methinks to you she dares not breathe denial ; 
 And when we're married, as I hope we shall, 
 You and my wife shall lead the bridal ball ; 
 Yours be the first fair slice of wedding cake, 
 And all the kisses you may choose to take 
 Wales, Summer of 1 827- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 397 
 
 WKITTEN ON THE TOP OF SNOWDON. 
 
 AGAIN * I rest me on thy eirie height, 
 
 Thou monarch of the cloudy diadem ! 
 Again I quaff " the fierce and far delight," 
 
 The nectar of thy breezes, and in them 
 There breathes a spirit, which upbears me high 
 
 O'er thy bare peak ; so wild ! so full 
 Of majesty of terror ! I might try 
 
 To soar thus freely 'mid the stagnant, dull 
 Crowd of the city, but in vain. Oh thus 
 
 Thus would I mount to heaven ! but not as now 
 To see dark clouds careering over us ; 
 
 But to view all the glory of His brow, 
 Whose very light is heaven ; and spurn the clod 
 
 Of this cold world, to rest in happiness and God. 
 Wales, Sept. 4, 1827. 
 
 * The following note was appended to these lines : " I had as- 
 cended it once before on that day. 5 ' (Eo.) 
 
398 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO W. 0- 
 
 WITH 
 
 A COPY OF "SCOTT'S LIFE OF NAPOLEON/' 
 
 AFTER HE AND THE AUTHOR HAD SPENT THE SUMMER 
 
 TOGETHER IN WALES. 
 
 I MEANT not to insult thy love, 
 
 As though it were not far above 
 
 Such homage venal souls can pay, 
 
 As though it must be bribed to stay, 
 
 And were not that pure holy thing, 
 
 Fresh from the warm heart's warmest spring, 
 
 That asks not, and accepts not aught 
 
 Less worthy than a heart unbought, 
 
 The spirit's deep responsive tone. 
 
 That pays it with itself alone. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 399 
 
 Yet must I plead, nor plead in vain, 
 That 'mid the bright and gorgeous train 
 Of tomes, thy glittering shelves that grace, 
 My book may find a dwelling-place. 
 They bear to stranger's wondering eyes 
 Exulting honours' proud device, 
 Mine but reveals to thee alone 
 A name unnoticed and unknown ; 
 But which in future years may fling 
 A spell o'er thy lone heart's communing, 
 And raise a sigh of sweet regret 
 For suns that may have long been set. 
 And as the storied page shall trace 
 The headlong victor's frantic race, 
 Thou wilt sigh for him, whose baleful star 
 Eaised him above his kind so far, 
 Throned him on Glory's summit high, 
 In desolate sublimity, 
 To him the blood-stained wreath assigned 
 The curse of having cursed mankind ; 
 
400 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And, prompt each meaner joy to send, 
 Denied Heaven's dearest boon a friend. 
 
 Then shall thy full soul sweetly wander, 
 On calmer, happier scenes to ponder, 
 Contrasting with those troubled waters, 
 Darkened with crimes, profaned by slaughters, 
 Life's humbler streams, on whose sweet breast 
 Keligion's cloudless sunbeams rest 
 Those wavelets through the soft flowers stealing, 
 And by their light their course revealing. 
 
 Then, haply, on thy pensive eyes 
 Shall Cambria's misty mountains rise ; 
 Where, cradled in its green recess, 
 Sleeps Aber's cottage loveliness, 
 When evening swathes in shadowy pall 
 The solitary waterfall, 
 Or loves its purple light to pour 
 Along the cliffs of Pen-man-mawr, 
 Or tinges with its last farewell 
 Y Wyddfa's naked pinnacle. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 401 
 
 But chief shall memory mark the spot, 
 Where peace hath built her sylvan grot, 
 Where Mona still delights to lave 
 Her tresses in the sunny wave, 
 Shall tell of joys that pass'd o'er thee, 
 Like music o'er the midnight sea, 
 The walk at eve, or dewy dawn, 
 Traced frequent on the sea-washed lawn, 
 Shall to thy musing soul restore 
 Faces, thine eye may view no more ; 
 Words, from the tongue that blithely part, 
 The boundings of the happy heart 
 
 Oh, cease my own hath caught the spell ; 
 
 It is too much, farewell, farewell ! 
 
 Cambridge. Dec. 19, 1827. 
 
 D D 
 
402 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 PAKODY ON 
 "THE BURIAL OF SIR J. MOORE/' 
 
 NOT a laugh had been heard for three mouths or more, 
 
 On the drowsy air reported ; 
 Not a creature had dared to assail the door 
 
 Of the room where our hero was sported. 
 
 He studied his Newton at dead of night, 
 
 The leaves with his lean fingers turning, 
 
 By the unsnuffed candles' misty light, 
 Or the pale lamp dimly burning. 
 
 Not a sigh was breathed, not a word was said, 
 
 Not a sign of visible sorrow ; 
 But he anxiously glanced at his watch as he read, 
 
 And he bitterly thought of the morrow. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 403 
 
 At two he would creep to his desolate bed, 
 
 But sleep was, alas, denied him ; 
 And he lay like a questionist tossing his head, 
 
 With his formula-book beside him. 
 
 He thought, ' Oh ! how happy a man should I be, 
 Might I find some kind comforter that'll 
 
 Be boiling my egg, or be making my tea, 
 While I'm far away in the battle.' 
 
 He thought how his friends had grown distant and cool ; 
 
 How his rudeness had forced them to cut him ; 
 But he'll never heed if he look not a fool, 
 
 In the bracket where Whewell.* shall put him. 
 
 He started aghast ; his musings were flown ; 
 
 The blankets asunder were riven ; 
 For he knew, as his larum was running down, 
 
 That it wanted a quarter to seven. 
 
 * Dr. Whewell was Moderator in the year the author took his B.A. degree. 
 
 D D 2 
 
404 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 His face was beheld on the coach full soon, 
 
 As long as an old maid's story ; 
 For his toils being crowned with the wooden spoon, 
 
 He was trundling off home in his glory. 
 
 1827. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 405 
 
 TO A HONEYSUCKLE, 
 
 GATHERED AT HACKFALL, AND PLANTED AT 
 WEST B1LNEY, IN NORFOLK, SEPT. 16TH, 1828. 
 
 DEAR little plant ! thine artless sympathy 
 
 Might almost win a tear, but that mine eye 
 
 Hath felt the vanity of weeping. Yet 
 
 Thy leaves with bright and dewy tears are wet, 
 
 As though e'en now thou hadst not quite forgot 
 
 The wild lone beauty of thy natal spot, 
 
 And would'st not choose but pine in memory still 
 
 For thy fresh stream, grey rock, and woody hill. 
 
 Winter hath breathed on them his ruthless power 
 
 Hath stripped the forest and hath spoiled the bower ; 
 
406 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But thy frail form, ainid the dreary scene, 
 Still rears its summer coronal of green, 
 And heedless of his power to lay thee low, 
 Smiles on his rugged face, and bids him hlow. 
 
 WestBilney Lodge, 
 Dec. 1828. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 407 
 
 PLEASURES OF THE VISIBLE WORLD. 
 
 " Beautiful ! 
 
 How beautiful is all this visible world, 
 How glorious in its action and itself !'* 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 Do you love to walk at the blush of dawn, 
 
 Where the grim rock frowns o'er the joyous sea ? 
 
 Do you love to ride o'er the dewy lawn, 
 
 Where the deer springs by in its reckless glee ? 
 
 Or to view the hill ere its veil be drawn, 
 Enrobed in its cloudy drapery ? 
 
 Do you love the fir-groves' sombre shade, 
 When noon her fiercest radiance flings ; 
 
 And to drink the pleasant murmur made 
 By the young Zephyrs' purple wings ? 
 
408 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Or on the brooklet's margin laid, 
 To watch its bright meanderings ? 
 
 Do you love the hour of Nature's rest, 
 The sun -set of the summer day, 
 
 When each tiny cloud of the gorgeous west 
 Is melting in that sun's last ray ; 
 
 And earth too looks her loveliest, 
 As anxious to persuade his stay ? 
 
 And do you love, the best of all, 
 
 The deep and pulseless hush of night ? 
 
 To list the voice of the waterfall, 
 That dimly glimmers into sight ; 
 
 And to view the vast sky's shadowy pall, 
 Bedropped with all its gems of light ? 
 
 Oh, lov'st thou these ? then earth to thee 
 
 Is not of all her joy bereft; 
 And whatsoe'er thy grief may be, 
 
 Her purest, holiest charm is left : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 409 
 
 Thou still hast Nature's sympathy, 
 Though every other tie be cleft. 
 
 And be it so ! how merciful 
 
 Is the great Lord of earth and sky, 
 
 To leave us still such flowers to cull 
 From the dark fields of destiny ! 
 
 Else life would prove a thing so full 
 Of pain the wish might rise to die. 
 
 West Bilney Lodge, 
 Sept. 18, 1828. 
 
410 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 ADDKESSED TO A YOUNG LADY, 
 
 WITH A SPEEDWELL. 
 
 " I send the lilies given to me, 
 
 Tho' long before thy hand they touch, 
 I know that they must wither' d be, 
 
 But yet reject them not as such ; 
 For I have cherish' d them as dear, 
 
 Because they yet may meet thine eye, 
 And guide thy soul to mine e'en here, 
 
 When thou behold' st them drooping nigh." 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD. CANTO in. 
 
 KNOW'ST thou the flower of the green hill's side, 
 
 The flower of the sunny lea ? 
 Oh, its name is tender as eventide ; 
 
 But it's all too sad for me : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 411 
 
 For it speaks of a fond, but deep regret 
 
 O'er feelings' dull decay ; 
 As if those who lov'd could e'er forget 
 
 The friends that are far away ! 
 
 And ne'er, oh ne'er, could I hear to distress thee 
 
 By breathing so harsh a thought ; 
 Nor send the loveliest flower, my Jessie, 
 
 To bid thee forget me not. 
 
 But I send you this bright and beautiful blossom 
 
 Of heaven's most summer hue, 
 To speak of a thought that inhabits my bosom, 
 
 A prayer for a blessing on you. 
 
 Thy silken sail, on the world's wide sea, 
 
 To the changeful wind is given ; 
 And blest be the flower that asks for thee 
 
 The breath and the light of heaven . 
 
412 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Soft be the breeze that wanders o'er thee, 
 
 Soft be the wavelet curled, 
 Till the far blue hills are capped with glory,- 
 
 The light of another world. 
 
 Beautiful hills ! when all is past 
 The spirit's fond endeavour 
 
 Thence be thy welcome sung at last, 
 And there be thy home for ever ! 
 
 Speed on ; speed well ; the fickle flower 
 
 Hath lost its charm to me ; 
 I hoped it true perchance its power 
 
 May prove more kind to thee. 
 
 Yet take it ! hard I begged the prize 
 
 That thus I send to you ; 
 And stronger shall my prayers arise 
 
 To prove its omen true. 
 
 Castle Rising, 
 
 Dec. 30, 1828. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 413 
 
 TO AN EARLY FRIEND, 
 
 ON HER TWENTY-FIRST BIRTHDAY. 
 
 " Long years, 
 
 Long though not very many, since have done 
 Their work on both : some suffering and some tears 
 Have left us nearly where we had begun ; 
 Yet not in vain our mortal race hath run ; 
 We have had our reward." 
 
 CHILDE HAROLD. CANTO iv. 
 
 THEY are gone those years of the painless mind. 
 
 The happy and the free ! 
 They are gone with the breath of the summer wind, 
 
 With the foam of the summer sea ! 
 
 Yet scarce may'st thou deem how much I owe 
 
 To childhood and to thee, 
 For many a dream severest woe 
 
 Can never wring from me. 
 
414 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 They were dreams of childhood's azure glance, 
 
 Of soft hair's sunny ray ; 
 But why should I speak of what long, perchance, 
 
 Hath passed from thee away ? 
 
 Oh, joy was then like the deathless blue 
 
 Hesperia's soft sky wears ; 
 And hope was a rainbow, whose brilliant hue 
 
 Ne'er melted into tears. 
 
 Or if it did, from that light shower 
 
 So fresh each blossom grew, 
 Twas hard to quarrel with a flower 
 
 All jewelled with such dew. 
 
 They are gone, those young and delicate buds! 
 
 Or they live in remembrance only, 
 Which ofttimes over their beauty broods, 
 
 When the heart feels sad and lonely ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 415 
 
 And summer is coming, a tint more warm 
 
 O'er earth and heaven to pour ; 
 But summer's the time of the thunder storm, 
 
 The nurse of the passion flower. 
 
 Thou canst not trust to her joyous sky, 
 
 Or the smile of her sea's repose ; 
 For that smile oft sparkles o'er misery, 
 
 Which none but the sufferer knows. 
 
 But enough of regret : there is God ahove ; 
 
 There is suffering man below; 
 And the soul hath a nobler task to prove 
 
 Than selfish bliss or woe. 
 
 She is taught from each gem that glows on high, 
 
 Or spangles the dewy sod, 
 From each flower of the earth and each star of the sky^ 
 
 To know and to worship God. 
 
416 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 She is taught by the love His words reveal. 
 
 Which seraphs bend to scan, 
 Another's grief or joy to feel, 
 
 To love and to pity man. 
 
 Bright hours ! though the sunshine of mirth depart 
 And the laughter of childhood cease, 
 
 If they bring to the governed and softened heart 
 The heavenly boon of peace. 
 
 Blest hours ! though not all unknown to grief, 
 
 If grief hath taught the while 
 To give to the wounded heart relief, 
 
 To the tear- worn cheek a smile. 
 
 % 
 
 Warm are the prayers that are raised for thee, 
 And warm are the hearts that raise them ; 
 
 And calm shall thy heavenward journeying be, 
 As the smile with which God repays them. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 417 
 
 Should the cloud ever rise of passing ill, 
 
 (In the clearest sky we find it,) 
 The brightness that lingers around it still - 
 
 Shall tell of the sun behind it. 
 
 A present God, through all thy way, 
 
 Shall hold his shield before thee, 
 Till every cloud be swept away, 
 
 And grace be complete in glory. 
 
 Feb. 25, 1829. 
 
 E E 
 
418 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A PORTRAIT. 
 
 I HONOUR him, who stands in calm reliance 
 Amid a senate's frown, and shrug, and jeer ; 
 
 Hurls in the scoffer's face his proud defiance, 
 And, fearing no man, dares his God to fear : 
 Who spins no smooth harangue for stateman's ear 
 
 Of that misnamed expediency ; but he 
 
 Deems that expedient which is just and fair ; 
 
 Pronounces that most safe which ought to be ; 
 And cries, "Let man have right, for God hath made him 
 free." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 419 
 
 SUMMIT OF THE GREAT GAVEL* 
 
 AT the furthermost end of Borrowdale 
 
 There riseth a giant hill ; 
 It heareth the name of the great Gavel : 
 Few to ascend its height are able, 
 
 And few who are able will. 
 There throned aloft, in visible form, 
 I have kenned the Spirit of the storm, 
 
 * This mountain " is remarkable for a well of pure water on the 
 very summit. This is not a spring issuing in the common way out of 
 the earth ; but is supplied immediately from the atmosphere, in the 
 shape of rain and dews. It is a triangular receptacle in the rock, 
 six inches deep, capable of holding about two gallons ; and by con- 
 taining water in the dryest seasons, shows how slight a degree of 
 evaporation is carried on at this altitude." 
 
 OTWAY'S GUIDE TO THE LAKES. 
 E E 2 
 
420 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Tossing his dark locks far and wide 
 Over the mountain's shadowy side : 
 He talks to his kindred friends that dwell 
 On gaunt Yewbarrow and grey Kirkfell ; 
 You may hear their voices well 
 All along Wastdale's gloomy dell, 
 
 On a gusty autumn even. 
 But it was not of these I meant to speak 
 In the solid slate of that awful peak, 
 
 Filled from the fount of Heaven, 
 Is scooped a small triangular basin, 
 Just for the sun to wash his face in, 
 As he stops for a moment to rest thereon 
 After his hot day's work is done, 
 Ere he lies down to his curtained rest 
 In the golden chambers of the West : 
 No spring supplies it from below, 
 Never a drop could filter through 
 
 The sheer and seamless stone ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Yet never doth the water shrink 
 Below the basin's rocky brink ; 
 For it ever condescends to drink 
 
 From the skies from the skies alone : 
 The crystal lymph, which sparkles there, 
 Is brought by Genii of the air 
 
 From the clouds that are braided with purple and amber, 
 Festooned round evening's gorgeous chamber ; 
 And it may be at times they have snatched a gem 
 From the nethermost fringe of the rainbow's hem. 
 
 Thus, sometimes may you find the man 
 Standing apart from the human clan, 
 Musing, 'mid sternly kindred things, 
 His lone and wild imaginings, 
 At home 'mid Nature's rudest forms, 
 Conversing with her clouds and storms. 
 And should you deem it worth the pain 
 The summit of his soul to gain, 
 You may haply meet, like gem enchased, 
 Amid the bleak and barren waste, 
 
422 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A font of Heaven's own blessed dew, 
 
 Clear, sparkling, to refresh your view. 
 
 Oh ! his the spring of poesy, 
 
 That draws its waters from on high. 
 
 The cistern may be roughly hewed 
 
 By Nature in her wildest mood ; 
 
 But the water is pure as th' untrodden snow 
 
 On* Liakura's stainless brow, 
 
 That wept bright tears in days gone by 
 
 For the sacred urn of Castaly. 
 
 All lovely colours are blended there, 
 
 Born in the azure depths of air, 
 
 Fancy and Feeling their hues have shed, 
 
 Like the braided purple and gold and red, 
 
 That canopy the day- god's bed ; 
 
 And Hope a livelier lustre flings 
 
 From the plumage of her rainbow wings. 
 
 * Parnassus. A village high up the mountain still retains the name 
 of Liakoura. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 423 
 
 ON A FKIEND 
 
 BURIED IN HENDON CHURCHYARD, MIDDLESEX. 
 
 " As my thoughts were dwelling upon him, who hath left us for a 
 little season, they seemed to shape themselves spontaneously into 
 these lines." (Extract from a Letter.) 
 
 E'EN as the lovely scene, in which he lies, 
 Looks calmly o'er yon city-world of strife, 
 
 His soul, conversing with its kindred skies, 
 Walked stainless through the busy paths of life. 
 
 He never knew the bitter taste of woe ; 
 
 All joy to life, all peace in death was given : 
 He left a family of love below, 
 
 To join the family of bliss in Heaven. 
 
 November 18, 1833. 
 
424 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 CHRISTMAS IN IRELAND. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 DEAR Christmas ! while the wings of winter brood 
 O'er the bleak muirland, and the tuneless wood, 
 While winds, in cadence desolate and drear, 
 Sigh their sad requiem for the dying year, 
 Thou comest with smiles upon thy buxom brow, 
 Dancing like sunshine o'er the waste of snow ! 
 Dear to the man, who blithly quits awhile 
 The load of life, and learns like thee to smile ! 
 Dear to the boy, his weeks of waiting past, 
 On whose notched calendar thou com'st at last, 
 With spells of holy peace and harmless mirth 
 To draw thy circle round the charmed hearth, 
 Where thine own yule-logs bid their splendours play 
 On cheeks as warm and eyes as bright as they ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 425 
 
 In yon fair Isle, which heaven ordained to be 
 The flower of earth and jewel of the sea, 
 There dwelt an holy man, whose ardent mind 
 Was formed to better and to bless mankind ; 
 Sprung from patrician sires, 'twas only traced 
 In that unconscious elegance of taste, 
 Which, as he mingled with the vulgar crowd, 
 Abashed the foremost, and o'erawed the proud ; 
 If wealth were his, he did but feel its worth 
 When want or misery called his bounty forth ; 
 Warm heart to sympathize, prompt hand to save, 
 Freely he had received and freely gave. 
 A faithful few his pastoral charge embraced, 
 A little garden in a boundless waste ; 
 For Home's dark priestcraft in its fatal coil 
 Had nipped the moral promise of the soil ; 
 Yet his no bigot pride ; where'er he came 
 The general welcome hailed M'Fillan's name. 
 
 We spake of Christmas ; 'twas a joyous sight, 
 When Winter sat on Keeper's lonely height, 
 
426 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And loosed his storm-sprites from their mountain caves 
 To ply their pastime on Lough Derrig's waves, 
 Oh, 'twas a joyous sight, at such a time, 
 To see MTillan hrave the hitter clime, 
 Dispensing comfort, warmth, and kindly cheer, 
 And gracious words that made the gift more dear ; 
 Till spite of frowns on Nature's hrow that dwelt, 
 The glorious jubilee was kept and felt. 
 
 That morn beheld him in the house of prayer 
 Chain every eye, and spell- bind every ear, 
 Unfolding Heaven's sublimely simple plan, 
 Glory to God on high, good will to man ! 
 To us, so long from Eden's portals driven, 
 To us a child is born, to us a Son is given ! 
 The mighty God, the Sire of endless days, 
 The Prince of peace, whose gentle sceptre sways 
 A realm that owns no bound, and knows no end, 
 O'er all the Sovereign, and of all the Friend ! 
 Meekly, yet earnestly, that simple horde 
 Drank the deep waters of the Sacred Word ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 427 
 
 E'en the poor Papist, doubting and in fear, 
 Crept to the well of life, and stole his share. 
 
 That eve, while grateful hearts assembled round, 
 The hall was lighted, and the board was crowned, 
 The pine tree spoils had left the mountain side, 
 And roared and crackled up the chimney wide ; 
 On high, the carv'd oak tracery between, 
 Laurel and holly blent their deathless green ; 
 Below, with temperate feast and guiltless sport, 
 The happy Pastor held his rustic court. 
 Who had not smiled to see those rugged kerne 
 Sleek the rough locks, and smooth the visage stern, 
 Proffering their thanks in that wild phrase and tone, 
 Which none may catch save Erin's genuine son : 
 " God bless your reverence, and your lady's grace ! 
 " God bless the darlings, bless each bonnie face ; 
 " Grant each and all, in after years to prove 
 " Worthy their father's care their mother's love." 
 
 Camberwell, 1836. 
 
428 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY THE VIEW OF THE ALPS 
 
 AT 
 
 SUNRISE FROM THE RIGHI 
 ON THE BORDERS OF THE LAKE OF LUCERNE. 
 
 O GOD ! upon the mountains, in the calm 
 
 And beauty of the morning, where each sound 
 
 Seems like the accents of an holy psalm 
 
 Swept from the lyre of Nature, and the ground 
 Offers its matin incense wide around, 
 
 Oh God ! upon the mountains is there one, 
 
 Whose heart receives not, like yon lake profound, 
 
 The imaged beauty, sends not back a tone 
 With Nature's solemn voice in gentlest unison ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 429 
 
 Thy mighty Presence is around us, felt, 
 
 Not in its terrors, earthquake, storm and fire, 
 In sights and sounds of harmony, that melt 
 
 Into the spirit's depths, 'till each desire 
 
 Rises to Thee ; as yonder clouds aspire 
 To the huge mountains' summits, from below 
 
 Issuing in mist and dampness, but as higher 
 They climb the everlasting peaks of snow, 
 Touched with the hues of heaven, and melting in its glow. 
 
 And there ye stand, majestic Alps ! which never 
 
 By foot of man were trod, ye stand, and smile 
 In calm derision at his weak endeavour 
 
 To touch the confines of each sky- girt isle ; 
 
 'Tis well ! albeit his chainless soul the while 
 Can make your peaks her stepping-stones to climb 
 
 Heights that look down upon your giant pile, 
 Where she shall rest immortally sublime, 
 When ye have crumbled down amid the wrecks of time. 
 
430 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE EXECUTION OF A MURDERER. 
 
 THEY led him forth ! 'tis not for words to speak 
 The horrid hue that settled on his cheek, 
 As all the hlood that flushed that face of fear 
 Had gathered into blue stagnation there, 
 And left his lip and hrow ; e'en death might fail 
 To paint thereon a tint more ashy pale. 
 A faintness fell upon him as he came 
 To that dark place of suffering and of shame ; 
 For though he spake not aught, nor changed his look, 
 His weight fell heavier, and his strong frame shook. 
 " Oh God !" he moaned, and darted his fierce eye 
 Up to the clouds that frowned along the sky, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 431 
 
 " I thought they said, that mighty One above 
 Was something full of pity and of love : 
 I showed no mercy well deserve to see 
 The friend of all a bitter foe to me ! 
 The sky feels hot above me and my fate 
 Flares in my face. Oh, mercy ! 'tis too late !" 
 
 This to himself; he saw, heard, spake to none; 
 He seemed to stand before his God alone. 
 He tried the stairs and reeled, they dragged him on, 
 And there he stood the fatal goal was won ! 
 Then burst in one wild, deafening, maddening yell 
 The voice of execration ; winged from hell 
 Rained the hot curses round him far and near, 
 Pealed from its thousand tongues a city's damning prayer. 
 
 And he the wretched being, on whose path 
 Burst that fell storm of vengeance and of wrath, 
 Who caught from manhood's shout and childhood's cry, 
 In one full curse, his death- sleep's lullaby, 
 He was low kneeling when that fierce yell rang 
 Upon his ear : a moment up he sprang ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But oh, how changed ! no longer feeble, tame, 
 Death in his eye, and palsy in his frame 
 The demon, checked and cowed and trampled, now 
 Resumed his throne upon his lip and brow, 
 And both were crimsoned ; from his dark eye broke 
 Glances that blasted like the lightning stroke : 
 He strode across the platform, and low bowed 
 His head the while to hide him from the crowd. 
 The false boards, as he passed the fatal spot, 
 Rocked to so fierce a tread; he heeded not : 
 He reach'd the palisade the indignant cry 
 Assailed him, as he paused, more furiously : 
 Then to his height he drew him, and at once 
 Let loose the gathered lightning of his glance ; 
 His high- raised brow his lip that wore the while 
 A sneer contempt had curled into a smile ; 
 The reckless stern defiance of his look 
 Silenced the loudest, and the boldest shook. 
 Abrupt he turned on me : I felt each sense 
 Quail to that terrible brow's magnificence ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 433 
 
 His brotherhood with hell had fired his eye 
 With something of demoniac dignity 
 Like Lucifer's gaunt scowl, as he looks down 
 Upon a world that sin hath stamped his own, 
 And sees in man, a thing so fondly wooing 
 The deadliest causes of his own undoing, 
 As scarce can bribe impatience to delay 
 To stoop his pinions on so mean a prey. 
 
 " 'Tis well !" he cried ; " mine eye hath pierced the gloom, 
 Hath glanced upon the secrets of the tomb : 
 I've seen what thou may'st see, with more of wonder, 
 When death shall snap the silver thread asunder ; 
 I've seen no matter what I feel my fate, 
 Lorn as it is, and deeply desolate, 
 More happy now : 'twere harder far to dwell 
 With these on earth, than nobler fiends in hell !" 
 
 "And deem'st thou," I replied, "whate'er you be, 
 There's none to feel, to weep, to pray for thee ? 
 I came to see thee die, but not to share 
 Thy foes' wild joy, or feast on thy despair ; 
 
 F F 
 
434 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Their zeal for God may hiss, and hoot, and ban 
 Mine half forgets the murderer in the man. 
 Too blest to point thee One whose latest sigh 
 Burst heaven's bright portals to the felon's eye ; 
 T saw with hope thy softened spirit bow, 
 And less had pitied than I pity now. 
 And, know, some minds are far too keen to stay 
 At the frail fence that warns the crowd away ; 
 Slight were the task for mine its way to win 
 To thy soul's secret council-room within, 
 And read in burning brow and flashing eye 
 The last alternative of misery, 
 The desperate effort to relieve a heart 
 That else had broken." I beheld him start, 
 And a low sigh half- struggled from his breast 
 He seized my hand, and firmly, warmly pressed. 
 " God bless you, sir ! for you the murderer's prayer 
 May ask, what for himself it doth not dare !" 
 He raised his arm towards his face ; the chain 
 Besisted, and it sunk he sigh'd " 'Tis vain ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 435 
 
 And I have done with shame !" It was a tear 
 Had gathered in that savage eye, and clear, 
 And large, and warm as childhood's ; as it fell, 
 My own poured forth a mute and sad farewell. 
 
 I tottered from him to a small low room 
 That opened on the scaffold ; all was gloom ; 
 I flung me down ; my mind was then o'erwrought 
 To an intensity that is not thought ; 
 And my breast laboured with a deep oppression, 
 That those who know must feel it lacks expression. 
 
 A shock a jar aroused me a dead sound 
 Of falling weight, checked ere it touched the ground ! 
 I raised my eyes ('tis all in vain to guess 
 At motives in that moment's dizziness ;) 
 They seemed, in spite of me, perforce to seek 
 What most they feared to find, as if to wreak 
 Torture upon themselves; ay, there it hung, 
 That ghastly form, and slowly turned and swung ! 
 'Twas he who last spoke, wept with me ; no strife, 
 No writhe of limb or muscle told of life, 
 
 F F 2 
 
436 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Save one long heave, one gathering, deep'ning swell, 
 That sunk as slowly ; then the shoulders fell 
 The limbs relaxed the guilty soul had burst 
 Its bonds, and gone to hear and prove the worst. 
 
 God only knows the rest ! 'Tis not for me 
 To judge what it hath been, or say what it may be. 
 
 1837. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 437 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN. 
 
 WHO shall ascend to the holy place, 
 And stand on the holy hill ? 
 
 Who shall the boundless realms of space 
 With shouts of rapture thrill ? 
 
 Hallelujah! Hallelujah! 
 
 For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth ! 
 
 The servants of the Lord are they, 
 
 The pure in heart and hand, 
 For whom the eternal bars give way, 
 
 The eternal gates expand ! 
 
 Hallelujah! &c. 
 
438 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Not to the noble, not to the strong, 
 To the wealthy, or the wise, 
 
 Is given a part in that angel- song, 
 That music of the skies ; 
 
 Hallelujah! &c. 
 
 But those, who in humble and holy fear, 
 With child-like faith and love, 
 
 Have served the Lord as their Master here, 
 Shall praise their Lord above. 
 
 Hallelujah ! &c. 
 
 And chiefly those who in youth to Him 
 Their morn of life have given, 
 
 With Cherubim and Seraphim, 
 And all the host of heaven, 
 
 Hallelujah ! &c. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 439 
 
 Shall stand in robes of the purest white ; 
 
 And to the Lamb shall raise 
 The song that rests not day or night, 
 
 The eternity of praise ! 
 
 Hallelujah ! &c. 
 
 1837. 
 
440 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN. 
 
 " That he may so pass the waves of this troublesome world that 
 finally he may come to the land of everlasting life/' THE BAP- 
 TISMAL SERVICE. 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 WE are a young and happy crew, 
 And hope our sail unfurled ! 
 
 Why tell you us of passing thro' 
 
 The waves of this troublesome world ? 
 
 Joy is the sunshine of our sky 
 From morning-tide till even; 
 
 And soft the breeze that whispers by, 
 To waft us on to Heaven. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 441 
 
 CONGREGATION. 
 
 Yes, children, come it must, the day 
 
 Of darkness and of fears ; 
 And hope be changed into dismay, 
 
 And joy grow dim with tears ! 
 
 CHILDREN. 
 
 Oh say not so ! or rather say, 
 Should such mishap befall, 
 
 Know ye no friend, on whom we may 
 For timely succour call ? 
 
 CONGREGATION. 
 
 Dear children, let the Son of God 
 Have place within your bark ! 
 
 He'll make it on the stormiest flood 
 A safe and peaceful ark. 
 
442 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 CHILDREN AND CONGREGATION. 
 
 And you and we, with Heaven in view, 
 Just ere our sails are furled, 
 
 Shall bless the hand that steered us thro' 
 The waves of this troublesome world. 
 
 1840. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 443 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN. 
 
 MIGHTY God, may we address thee ? 
 
 Thou dost own a Father's name ; 
 Deign to hear, while children bless thee, 
 
 And thy wondrous love proclaim : 
 Love through all divinely beaming 
 
 In thy wondrous works we trace, 
 In creating, in redeeming, 
 
 In thy Spirit's promised grace. 
 
 May these thoughts from evil win us ! 
 
 May we turn to God and live ! 
 Shed thy love abroad within us 
 
 And our every sin forgive ! 
 
444 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Grant I oh grant thy Holy Spirit, 
 (E'en a child for this may pray,) 
 
 Earnest that we shall inherit 
 Bliss in realms of endless day ! 
 
 So, when years have hurried o'er us, 
 
 And our fathers sink to rest, 
 Following those who passed before us, 
 
 We may rise to call them blest. 
 Bidding still the wondrous story 
 
 To succeeding times descend, 
 That the praises of thy glory 
 
 May continue to the end ! 
 
 Praise the Father, Great Creator ! 
 
 Praise the Saviour, God the Son ! 
 Praise the Spirit, Renovator 
 
 Of a world by sin undone ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 445 
 
 Praise within the church be given ! 
 
 Praise, to earth's remotest hound ! 
 Praise along the arch of heaven 
 
 Let angelic hosts resound ! 
 
 1841. 
 
446 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE TRINITY, 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN, 
 
 OUR Father, if indeed thou art 
 
 The Father and the Friend 
 Of those who with a lowly heart 
 
 Before thy footstool bend, 
 Hear us, Almighty and All-wise, 
 
 And bless our infant years, 
 And sanctify our childish joys, 
 
 And dry our childish tears ! 
 
 Dear Saviour, if thy smile of old 
 To little ones was given, 
 
 If children such as we behold 
 Thy Father's face in heaven, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 447 
 
 Thy gentle deed, thy gracious word 
 
 Help us to bear in mind, 
 And make us like thyself, Lord, 
 
 Holy and good and kind ! 
 
 Blest Spirit, if to thee belongs 
 
 The morning of our days, 
 If from young lips and stammering tongues 
 
 Thou hast ordained praise, 
 Come ! let us now thine influence prove, 
 
 Our guide and guardian be, 
 That we may know, obey and love 
 
 The Father, Son, and Thee ! 
 
 1842. 
 
44:3 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE TOMB OF JESUS. 
 
 COME, see the place where Jesus lies ! 
 
 The lust sad rite is done ! 
 With aching hearts and weeping eyes, 
 
 The faithful few are gone. 
 
 They washed with tears each bloody trace, 
 On those dear limbs that lay : 
 
 Then spread the napkin o'er his face, 
 And turned and went their way. 
 
 By the sealed stone with grounded spears 
 
 The guards their vigil keep : 
 They wist not other eyes than theirs 
 
 Watch o'er the Saviour's sleep. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 449 
 
 All Heaven above, all Hell beneath- 
 Bright hope and blank dismay 
 
 Look on, to see if grisly Death 
 Can hold his mighty prey. 
 
 Now, grisly Death, thy powers combine ! 
 
 Now gird thee to the strife ! 
 Yet needs there stronger arm than thine 
 
 To keep the Lord of Life. 
 
 'Tis done ! Death, thy Victor-guest 
 
 Hath smoothed thy visage grim ! 
 O Grave, thou place of blessed rest 
 
 To all who sleep in Him ! 
 January, 1843. 
 
 G G 
 
450 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 SUNDAY SCHOOL HYMN 
 
 LET thy Spirit, Lord, descending, 
 Best upon each youthful heart ; 
 
 May his grace, this work attending, 
 Heavenly life and love impart ! 
 
 Let thy presence go before us 
 Through this wilderness of sin ! 
 
 Spread thy sheltering pinions o'er us, 
 Light the lamp of truth within ! 
 
 Oh thoifgood and gracious Father, 
 Write on us thy saving name ! 
 
 Oh thou gentle Shepherd, gather 
 With thine arm each helpless lamb ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 451 
 
 Feed us in thy verdant meadows, 
 
 Lead us by thy quiet streams ; 
 Till beyond the vale of shadows, 
 
 Heaven's unclouded glory beams !* 
 
 * This was the author's last production, written under circum- 
 stances of great bodily weakness and suffering. In a letter, dated 
 Stainley, May 9th, 1843, he says, with reference to these lines, 
 " Whilst I was in the bath last night, I composed the enclosed hymn, 
 which I think may be suitable for the school sermon." At this time 
 he was staying at Stainley Hall, near Ripon ; where he had gone early 
 in the Spring with the hope of recruiting his impaired health ; and 
 where he received every attention that the most unwearied kindness 
 and devoted affection could suggest, until the day of his death, the 
 6th of October, 1843, in the 39th year of his age. (Eo.) 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY G. J. PALMER, SAVOY STREET, STRAND. 
 
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