UC-NRLF 
 
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LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
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 POEMS 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 THOMAS WILLIAMS, 
 
 BATH LODGE, ORMSKIRK. 
 
 I SOUTHPORT: 
 
 I ROBERT JOHNSON AND CO. LIMITED, " VISITER" OFFICE, LORD STREET. 
 
 i 
 
 I 1883. 
 
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LOAN STACK 
 
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 1 
 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The follo^i'in^ Pooiis, written I)y Thomas Williams^ 
 7C'ho for viany years resided at Bath Lodge, near 
 OniisJzirk, in Laneashire, are piddished in eonseqiienee 
 of a wish expressed by him some time before his death. 
 
 The Publishers hope that, in their perusal, the 
 reader will find a sow'ce of instruction and edification, 
 and that the mind will be morally better by the reading 
 of them. They embrace numerous sulfects, and icill, 
 therefore, be acceptable to many persoiis. 
 
 -n - >? 
 
 473 
 
^— -^— — -~ — ^ 
 
 SKETCH^OF THOMAS WILLIAMS' 
 LIFE. 
 
 > * < 
 
 ^HOMAS WILLIAMS, the author of the following 
 poems, was born at Ludlow, in Shropshire, in the 
 year 1811. Ludlow is situated on the borders of Wales, 
 and was doubtless a place of great note from a very early 
 period. We find that about 50 years after Christ the great 
 . British chieftain, Caractacus, was defeated, after nine years of 
 courageous resistance, by Astorius, an invading Roman 
 commander, upon the hili, Coxeval Knowl, which is situated 
 only a few miles above the town of Ludlow. The castle was 
 built soon after the Conquest. It was a noble structure, 
 and there Arthur, Prince of Wales, shortly after his marriage 
 with Katharine of Arragon in 1501, took up his residence. 
 So enamoured was the Princess with the cheerful aspect of the 
 place, with its comforting, happy, and bright seclusion, that 
 she exclaimed, with much fervour, "My Arthur, is this lovely 
 spot to be my home ? " In the year 1634, Milton's " Comus " 
 
 ^-~ . ^ K 
 
^ " }^ 
 
 vi. Sketch of Author's Life. 
 
 was performed in the Council Chamber of Ludlow Castle for 
 
 the first time. And here Milton sang — 
 
 What needs a greater spell 
 To lure thee, stranger, to these far-famed walls ? 
 Though chroniclers of other ages tell 
 That Princes oft have graced fair Ludlow's halls, 
 Still shall his genius, towering and sublime. 
 Triumph o'er the spoils of grandeur smile ; 
 Still in these haunts, true to a nation's tongue. 
 Echo shall love to dwell, and say, " Here Milton sung.' 
 
 Ludlow being surrounded with scenery of the most varied 
 
 and magnificent description, it was no wonder that the mind 
 
 of young Williams became imbued with that poetic fire which, 
 
 in after years, was given vent to in such a remarkable manner. 
 
 Surrounded as it is with lofty hills and extensive views, its 
 
 large lake and dense impenetrable wood, the thoughtful mind 
 
 of the youth could not but lie inspired. However, his parents 
 
 being of the humbler class— although most respectable— and 
 
 he being the eldest of fourteen children, he did not receive 
 
 that education which was so desirable for one who proved to 
 
 be so gifted. The inability of the parents to pay for the 
 
 education of their children was rendered still more difiFicult l)y 
 
 the extreme high prices which had to be paid for provisions of 
 
 all kinds, the quartern loaf sometimes realising one shilling 
 
 and sixpence. The education he did receive was at the 
 
 National vSchool, which at that day was very different to what 
 
 it now is. The only means of tuition were an easy lesson card 
 
 for the youngest boys, the New Testament for the fifth and 
 
 sixth classes, and the Bible for the seventh, or highest class. 
 
 -n^ ^K 
 
Sketch of Author'' s Life. vii. 
 
 Writing on slates was taught daily, but only two hours weekly 
 in copy hooks, and then only to a few of the favourite boys. 
 
 During the time Thomas Williams attended school neither 
 history, grammar, nor geography were taught, and as he left at 
 the age of twelve, it is the more surprising that he should have 
 afterwards exhil)ited such powers and extent of knowledge. 
 
 At the age mentioned he went to work at a woollen factory, 
 where he remained for about five years, he having, when 
 seventeen years old, left home. As a youth he was always 
 very quick and intelligent, and his company was always sought 
 by other boys both younger and older than himself. When he 
 had reached the age of seventeen years, a gentleman — the late 
 Mr. Price, of Plas-Cadnant, Anglesea — was visiting some 
 friends at Henley Hall, near Ludlow, and being struck with 
 the beauty of the town and neighbourhood he expressed a 
 wish to have a l)oy from the place to take back with him to be 
 ^taught gardening. Accordingly a boy was sought for, and 
 Thomas Williams was named as the one most likely to suit. 
 He was therefore introduced to Mr. Price, who seemed pleased 
 with the boy, and, about two months after, he left Ludlow for 
 his new sphere of life. There being no railways in those days 
 in that part of the country, he had to travel by coach, and it 
 was considered a very great journey for a boy of seventeen — 
 who had never been out of his native town — to undertake ; but 
 he got safely through it. At that time it cost tenpence to send 
 a letter from Ludlow to Plas-Cadnant, and vice versa, conse- 
 
 y{ ifK 
 
ii . — ^ '^ — u. 
 
 viii. Sketch of Author's Life. 
 
 qucntly not many were received from him or sent to him ; 
 therefore little was known of the progress he might be making, 
 lie, however, soon mastered the Welsh language, and made 
 also such rapid advances in the study of botany that in a 
 surprisingly short time he was appointed head gardener. 
 
 After an absence of ten years he returned home to attend the 
 funeral of his father, and at this time it was discovered that he 
 had caught the inspiration of poetry. During his brief stay he 
 visited Wigmore, a small place about eight miles from Ludlow, 
 and afterwards wrote the poem, " Reflections on a Visit to 
 Wigmore Hall." In this early production he displays a 
 wonderful power of description and versification ; always, of 
 course, considering how meagre an acquaintance he had with 
 the great desideratum — education. Williams returned to 
 Anglesea, but only remained there a short time, he being 
 desirous to improve his position in life. 
 
 He had now entered upon the matrimonial state. He 
 visited Liverpool, in the outskirts of which city — at the then 
 celebrated nursery of Mr. Skerving, in Walton, and other 
 places — he obtained employment. But he was soon destined 
 to hold a more important post, namely, that of head gardener 
 at Haigh Hall, near Wigan, a situation he held for over nine 
 years. While there, the late Earl of Crawford and Balcarres 
 and his son, then Lord Lindsay — whose body was stolen from 
 the grave at Dunecht — became much attached to the young 
 man, and from them he obtained information which was 
 
 'n - K 
 
;i4 — ^ ] ~>i. 
 
 Sketch of Aidhor's Life. ix. | 
 
 afterwards most useful and valuable to him. The latter earl 
 brought him many interesting and curious relics from the 
 Holy Land, which lie always prized very highly. 
 
 From this time Thomas Williams seldom visited Ludlow, 
 but yet he never forgot the beauties and attractions of the 
 place of his birth, as evinced in his poem on "Ludlow as Seen 
 from a Distance," which was written in i860, for "Evans's 
 Hand-Book. " The following verse, culled from the poem, 
 possesses true poetic pathos — 
 
 O, land of Beulah! not in vision seen, 
 
 From fancy's sunny peaks, but one fair spot 
 Of rock and river, woods and meadows green, ' 
 
 The lines have fallen in a pleasant lot 
 To him whose heritage may be to dwell 
 
 Where the tall trees, and taller towers rise, 
 Who of thy loveliness this truth may tell — 
 
 The world doth still contain a paradise. 
 
 Again, in another poem, also written for " Evans's Hand- 
 Book," he writes — 
 
 Home of my early days, a long farewell ! 
 
 Though parted from thee by my destiny. 
 When others may of earth's fair beauties tell, 
 
 rU pride myself that I was born in thee. 
 Where'er at last I find a resting-place, 
 
 So early from thy pleasant bowers torn ; 
 My wish would be that some kind hand would trace, 
 
 Above the spot— he was in Ludlow born. 
 
 In 1 85 1 he left Wigan and went to live at a place called 
 Ikth Lodge, a short distance from Ormskirk. He remained 
 there up to the time of his death, his position being that of a 
 farm bailiff to Edward Stanley, Esq., who belongs to an old 
 branch of the Derljy family. During these thirty years he 
 
 'n ^ '. : R 
 
^ ^ 
 
 X. Sketch of Author'' s Life. 
 
 proved himself to l)e a good, honest, and faithful servant; so 
 much so, indeed, that almost everything on that portion of 
 Mr. Stanley's estates was left imder his control. Still 
 studiously inclined, he persevered in his endeavour to gain 
 knowledge, and in after years his name became well known 
 among savans. His botanical researches spread far and wide, 
 for he knew almost every herb that sips the dew. The 
 members of the Liverpool Naturalists' Field Club sought him 
 out, and, much to their delight, edification, and pleasure, he 
 accompanied them in many of their excursions. He wrote a 
 number of botanical articles for the Fields the Gai'dener's 
 Chronicle, the Garden, and other publications, and was often 
 in the habit of entering into discussion on the nature and 
 history of plants. 
 
 Bath Lodge is somewhat of a lonely and out-of-the-way 
 place at which to reside, but he made the best use he could 
 of its surroundings to enliven himself and his family. As an 
 instance of this, the reader is referred to "The Bench by the 
 Wall," which gives a good description of Bath Lodge, and is 
 written in a lively style. Although it was difficult to get to his 
 residence, he had many friends calling upon him, for he was 
 no anchorite, and he loved to see all who wished his company. 
 His unostentatious manner made him most approachable, and 
 not being arrogant or vain, it may well be conceived that his 
 friends were numerous. He was, too, very abstemious, seldom 
 tasting strong drinks, and thus he kept his mind, which was 
 
 iJ? ?5; 
 
^ — -^ 
 
 Sketch of Auihot-'s Life. xi. 
 
 productive of great qualities, clear on all siibjects. When a 
 boy he was fond of listening to the ballads given by itinerant 
 singers, whom he would follow through the streets, . So 
 retentive a memory had he, even when so young, that days 
 after he would repeat the words of some old song he had 
 heard ; and the habit which he thus contracted, and the powers 
 which it brought into a state of activity remained with him, 
 permanent and inestimable treasures, to his latest hour. Thus, 
 probably, in some measure, it was that he was led into the 
 fairy land of poetry. 
 
 Mr. Williams was industrious and thrifty, but yet not what 
 might be termed parsimonious, his purse being always open for 
 charitable purposes. He was a Nonconformist, and for some 
 time was on what is called the "Plan" of the Ormskirk circuit. 
 His sermons were always characterised with a depth of thouglit 
 and fervidness which made .them most acceptable to his 
 congregations. His religious tendencies — his regard for truth, 
 and love for his Saviour, pervade many of his poems ; some of 
 the latter being, indeed, sermons in themselves. " O, live not 
 for the day alone ! " — which was written in answer to one of 
 Prince's compositions, "He lived for the day alone," — well 
 denotes the tenour of his mind. With regard to his erudition, 
 his "Comet" gives a slight idea of his knowledge of 
 astronomy ; and other poems show that he was well learned in 
 Egyptian mythology and Roman antiquities, subjects which 
 ins]iire insatiable curiosity. He had also a thorough knowledge 
 
 b? '._$?: 
 
xii. Sketch of Author's Life. 
 
 . of geology, of conchology, of entomology, and of numismatics. 
 His acquaintance with botany has already been alluded to, 
 and on this subject he was enthusiastic. He wrote several 
 very interesting articles on this branch of natural history, some 
 of which appeared in the newspapers of the district. 
 
 Writing to a Southport paper in September, 1871, he says: — 
 "Dreary and desolate as the vicinity of Southport may appear, 
 from the absence of the concomitants of an English landscape, 
 surrounded as it is by a desert of sand-hills, still it has its 
 redeeming features, and these very sand-hills, and the little 
 valleys between them, for miles round the town, are, botanic- 
 ally considered, of the highest possible interest to the botanist ; 
 and the sterile solitudes between Southport and Liver^Dool are, 
 to those who study littoral vegetation, as interesting as any 
 part of England, and the fungologist may there reap what other 
 hands than those of man have strawed. I do not know 
 whether any fungologists reside in Southport or not, but I 
 wish to put it on record that the neighbourhood of Southport 
 abounds in rare fungi, particularly in the neighbourhood of 
 Scarisbrick and Ormskirk. Owing to the enthusiasm of a lady 
 acquaintance, rare and beautiful specimens of these curious and 
 interesting plants are continually turning up. About two years 
 ago the lady mentioned sent to me what proved to be, one of 
 the rarest of British fungi, the Phleinagium caperatits, perhaps 
 the rarest of the British fungi ; certainly the most noble and 
 beautiful, appearing like large balls of gold thrown down from 
 
 ^ if^ 
 
Sketch of Author^ s Life. xiii. 
 
 heaven. This splendid object was announced as an addition to 
 British flora in 1853, having been found in Berwickshire. It 
 has also been reported from Bromborough Park, Cheshire, but 
 the important discovery of the plant in our neighbourhood, 
 though communicated, was never noticed, perhaps simply 
 because a great man did not discover it, and this notice is the 
 first public one that has been given of the 'great find.' " 
 
 Mr. W. Brockbank, of Didsbury, near Manchester, who is an 
 excellent authority on botany, has stated that he never met 
 Thomas Williams's equal for a correct knowledge oi-immm&i, ^ 
 and that one of the greatest treats he ever had was to accom- 
 pany him through a well-stocked garden. 
 
 After his death the whole of his large stock of plants was 
 purchased by the Southport Botanic Gardens Company, and 
 they soon became a source of considerable attraction at that 
 pleasant resort. When it became known that the Company 
 had secured these rare treasures, the lovers of herbaceous 
 plants flocked to the Gardens from far and near to see them, 
 and since their "migration" they have been highly extolled 
 by Mr. Leo Grindon, a gentleman well known for his admir- 
 able writings and lectures on floral and horticultural subjects. 
 
 Thomas Williams had also a passion for what is called 
 hortiis-siccus^ and had, perhaps, at one time as fine a collection 
 of dried and preserved plants as could anywhere be seen. At a 
 flower show, held at Ormskirk, he exhibited 250 specimens of 
 
 7i . f!: 
 
^ _ — ^ ^ 
 
 xiv. Sketch of Author'' s Life. 
 
 them, and when it became known that he was showing, Mr. 
 
 Adam Goss attended the exhibition, and he was so struck with 
 
 the beautiful appearance of the water plants, fungi, etc., that 
 
 he at once purchased them for his brother, the Right Rev. Dr. 
 
 Goss, the then Catholic Bishop of Liverpool. Thomas 
 
 Williams delighted in such pastimes, for he thought that 
 
 " Life is fullest of content 
 When delight is innocent." 
 
 Although Williams does not, perhaps, rise in his writings to 
 the realms empyreal, yet there is, as has been stated, a sublimity 
 pervading, and an amount of knowledge displayed throughout 
 his productions truly remarkable for one who had so few 
 opportunities of gaining a high education. The Stanzas 
 which was suggested by hearing Mozart's " Hymn to the 
 Virgin " played on the organ is a most sublime composition, 
 and one that will doubtless take rank with any of the writings 
 of our modern poets. "The Doves of War" was written 
 during the Siege of Paris by the Germans, and so much did the 
 late Marchioness de Casteja afterwards think of the poem — the 
 Marquis and Her Ladyship being shut up in the city on the 
 memorable occasion — that she immediately forwarded it to a 
 friend to have it translated into French. 
 
 It has been stated that had Thomas Williams been taken Ijy 
 the hand by some man of wealth and influence, and had had 
 the opportunities given him of moving amongst the literati of 
 the age, that he would have shown powers which would have 
 
 yi. ^ -_??; 
 
Sketch of Aiitho7'''s Life. xv. 
 
 made his name famous. But he cared not for town or city life, 
 his humour being to dwell far from all resorts of mirth and the 
 busy hum of men ; and he died, as he had lived, in the quiet 
 seclusion of his sequestered home. 
 
 The following notice of the death of Mr. Williams appeared 
 in the Soiithport F/>//(fr of December 29th, 1881 : — 
 
 " In our columns in Tuesday's issue there was recorded the 
 death, at the age of 70, of Mr. Thomas Williams, who for 
 about thirty years has resided at Bath Lodge, near Ormskirk. 
 Mr. Williams was a most remarkable man. He, we believe, 
 was born at Ludlow, his parents being, although humble in 
 life, respectable citizens of that old Salopian town. In early 
 life the deceased gave tokens of a love for the floral world, and 
 soon became an adept in all appertaining to it. About forty 
 years ago he was one of the most esteemed gardeners at Ilaigh 
 Hall, near Wigan, and his services were much appreciated by 
 the late Earl of Crawford and Balcarres, whose body has been 
 stolen from the vault in which it was deposited. Mr. Williams 
 too, was a thoughtful reader, and a student of languages. By 
 self-education he managed to possess a knowleclge of Hebrew, 
 of Latin, and of French, while his own language he knew 
 thoroughly. As we have stated, about thirty years ago he 
 came to reside at Bath Lodge, he then receiving the appoint- 
 ment of bailifi" under the late Mr. Wareing, solicitor, of 
 
 :^ K 
 
xvi. Sketch of Author''s Life. 
 
 Ormskirk, who was the steward of Edward Stanley, Esc[. 
 He. was not long located there before he became famous as 
 a botanist, and in after life he Avas frequently invited by the 
 Liverpool Naturalists' Field Club to accompany them in their 
 frequent peregrinations. He was one of the first to discover 
 many of the beautiful plants which are still to be found in the 
 sandhills of our district, some of which are now well known. 
 In all matters pertaining to horticulture his opinion was 
 generally accepted, and his writings in the principal journals 
 devoted to this subject were read with pleasure and profit. 
 Combined with the qualifications we have noted, he was 
 likewise a poet of no mean order, and some years ago his 
 compositions were willingly accepted by the Messrs. Bean, the 
 then proprietors of the Liverpool Weekly Albion, a paper that 
 had a large circulation among cultivated men. Poems written 
 by him have, too, appeared in London newspapers, while our 
 local and neighbouring press have often produced them. He 
 was, pure et simple, a self-made and self-educated man, a man 
 whose life might well be followed by some of our rising 
 generation, and one who has clearly shown that, however 
 humble we may be in early life, by perseverance, and by a 
 good and honourable career, we can prove the truthfulness of 
 Longfellow's words, and ' in departing, leave behind us 
 footprints in the sands of time.' " 
 
 79 ^ 
 
M i^ 
 
 POEMS 
 
 SONNET, 
 
 ON HEARING THE SOUND OF A BUGLE WHILE SAILING 
 UNDER THE GREAT ORME's HEAD. 
 
 LISTENED to the mild and mellow note, 
 Sonorous on the breeze careering by, 
 Then dying in a whisper or a sigh, 
 And all was hush'd ; again it seemed to flow 
 Among the time-worn crags away remote, 
 That tottering hung above the deep on high, 
 B aring their rugged bosoms to the sky. 
 It seemed as if the sudden blast had brought 
 Some slumbering spirit from the mountain bed ; 
 Then rose the wail of startled sea birds 
 Wild, as though the dead had found 
 The hills and rocks of no avail 
 To hide them from the summons in the cloud 
 Of doomsday's trumpet, echoing shrill and loud. 
 
M -^ 
 
 2 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 
 
 THE GLOWWORM. 
 
 M THOUSAND lights are streaming 
 From mansion and from hall, 
 Ten thousand lamps are gleaming 
 
 At masquerade and ball ; 
 And there are other flashes 
 
 That hidden fires betray, 
 Where, fi:om beneath dark lashes. 
 
 Love's lightning steals away. 
 But thou thy beams art shedding, 
 
 Beneath the hedge-row tree, 
 W^here no light feet are treading. 
 
 Nor loving eyes to see. 
 
 Thus, unknown lights are shining — 
 
 And few do mark the blaze — 
 Where genius sits entwining 
 
 The garland without bays ! 
 Bright though her fires are burning. 
 
 How few the flames behold, 
 Till, to its source returning, 
 
 It dies — and all is cold ! ' 
 It dies without revealing 
 
 From whence the flames w^ere fed. 
 But there is no concealing 
 
 The ashes widely spread. 
 
 ^ : K 
 
Poems oh Various Subjects. 3 
 
 THE BELLS OF THE HEART. 
 
 3lMcOW sweet to listen to the bells, 
 ^^ When heard at close of day, 
 Soft pealing from some old grey tower, 
 
 O'er meadows far away : 
 Now swelling loud, now murmuring, 
 Now whispering through the trees. 
 As, when we hear in summer time. 
 
 The music of the bees ; 
 And then we break away from earth 
 
 And all that therein dwells ; 
 And visions come of better lands 
 With those sweet evening bells ! 
 When thus they come singing. 
 
 Bidding sorrow depart, 
 Then spirits are ringing 
 The bells of the heart ! 
 
 But when, with heavy care opprest. 
 
 We listen to the peal, 
 Forgotten wounds will bleed afresh — 
 
 (The wounds that will not heal.) 
 'Tis as the moaning of the sea. 
 Where, on its gloomy shore. 
 The shipwreck of our hope is cast. 
 
 With dark waves dashing o'er ; 
 Or muffled drums, but faintly heard, 
 
 Soft stealing down the slope. 
 Whose doleful music seems to play 
 The funeral march of hope ! 
 And when it comes rolling, 
 
 And the big tears will start. 
 Then a spirit is tolling 
 The knell of the heart ! 
 
 yi '- 3F< 
 
^ ; ]^ 
 
 4 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 LINES SUGGESTED BY VISITING THE 
 CROMLECH, OR DRUIDICAL ALTAR, 
 
 AT PLAS NEKKYDD, ANGLESEA. 
 
 fORN from the mountain's thunder-rifted crest. 
 Or hurled by earthquake from the granite breast 
 Of dizzy diffs that overhang the sea, 
 Frowning defiance in its majesty 
 To him who from the stony beach below 
 Wishes in vain to see what flowers grow 
 On those small ledges of the seamy rock ; 
 Or where the jutting, overhanging block 
 Seems bent on self-destruction, and would hide 
 The dreadful deed deep in the briny tide : 
 Transported hither by a power unknown 
 And arts forgotten — pondrous, mighty stone ! 
 Imperishable record of a creed 
 Pregnant with mystery and fearful deed, 
 An altar monolith of unhewn stone, 
 Erected when, and to what god, unknown. 
 Remnant of ancient, mystic, Sabean rite. 
 Who, plunged in superstition's deadly night. 
 Saw all creation spring from sacred fire. 
 And bowed the knee to Baal — the god — the sire. 
 Jehovah's nature and his counsels lost. 
 They still looked up and worshipped heaven's host, 
 Gave Baal his horses and his flaming car, \ 
 
 And saw a Deity in every star, 
 But knew nought of that Star of Jacob's line 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 5 
 
 That should cause all the earth to rise and shine. 
 
 Imperishable record of a creed 
 
 That long hath perished : shrouded be the deed, 
 
 The immolation — bloody sacrifice, 
 
 Hid from our memories as from our eyes. 
 
 Let the green moss and yellow lichens bright 
 
 Hide the bloodstains for ever from our sight. 
 
 Ancient of Days ! how many creeds have rose 
 
 And been baptized in blood, then found repose 
 
 (With altars all thrown down) in the cold earth 
 
 From which they had their being and their birth ? 
 
 But thou abidest — remnant of that line 
 
 That's gone through all the earth ; echo Divine 
 
 Of that " small voice," but heard of faith alone, 
 
 " Build Me an altar here of unhewn stone." , 
 
 Free from pollution of unholy steel. 
 
 Void of inscription, what dost thou reveal ? 
 
 That as the orb of heaven's gladdening rays 
 
 Become distorted in the vapoury haze. 
 
 And hence we see the dreamy mirage rise, 
 
 And domes and turrets pictured in the skies, 
 
 Bright-mirrored images of landscapes fair, 
 
 And rocks and rivers hung in the mid-air. 
 
 With phantom ships holding their watery way, 
 
 Spectral illusions of ships far away. 
 
 So in thy shapeless massiveness we trace 
 
 Primitive faith, perverted by that race 
 
 From Gomer sprung : a people used to war, 
 
 Who came from Asia's sunny climes afar — [shore 
 
 Through Thrace and Gaul — and found the white-clifTed 
 
 Of Albion's Isle that none had seen before. 
 
 ^ K 
 
X J^ 
 
 6 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Sermons in stones ! and hadst thou but a tongue 
 • To tell thy narrative when darkness hung 
 (That moral darkness) o'er the ancient earth 
 A thousand years ere from his country forth 
 The Patriarch went, obedient to command, 
 That bid him rise and seek the unknown land. 
 What creeds demolished, and what gods o'erthrown, . 
 What faiths proved faithless, and yet still alone, 
 Immovably sure, one faith hath stood 
 Guiltless of hetacombs of human blood. 
 Since thy dark votaries in the darker shade 
 Of overarching oak implored the aid 
 Of Baal, or Belus, and the starry host 
 That nightly sail around the unknown coast 
 Of dim eternity : a faith whose priests 
 Stain not their altars with the blood of beasts ; 
 A faith in Him who did for all atone. 
 Whose footstool is the earth, and heaven His throne, 
 Whose altars have no substance, form, or parts. 
 But broken spirits and bleeding hearts. 
 Oh, ye whose footsteps love to wander where 
 The traceried window lifts itself in air. 
 Where clustering pillars like the palm trees tall 
 Stood in the desert, where the abbey wall 
 Deep in the valley — peering through the trees — 
 Invites the w^anderer, and invites to please ; 
 Who can point out progression's onward march 
 In Norman doorw^ay or in Saxon arch. 
 Who love to trace what old inscriptions tell 
 On tomb, or pillar, or the holy well. [bind. 
 
 Songs (strange sympathies are these, which w^d and 
 
 ^^ ^ K 
 
Poems 071 Various Subjects. 7 
 
 And spread a thraldom o'er the wiUing mind) 
 
 Pass not unheeded this grey, hallowed stone, 
 
 Untooled, unchiselled, standing all alone. 
 
 The ruin crumbles, certainly, though slow : 
 
 This changes not. Thousands of years ago 
 
 It stood, and stands identically the same, 
 
 Long ere the Roman or the Saxon came. 
 
 If sermons are in stones, then this may preach — 
 
 Eternity the text — oh ! may it teach 
 
 Though man and all his monuments decay, 
 
 Though "heaven and earth may fade and pass away,"* 
 
 Though empires lie deep hidden in the past. 
 
 Nothing but truth eternally shall last ; 
 
 Though grain by grain the pyramids may fall. 
 
 Faith shall look up, and truth shall smile on all ! 
 
 5? K 
 
M -a: 
 
 8 Poe7ns on Various Subjects. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 fHE world we live in shines with borrowed light, 
 Then from the lender turns its face away 
 With cold ingratitude ; then, wrapt in night, 
 Repentant, seeks the smiling face of day. 
 Thus with those few we love to call our friends, 
 
 We warm each other with that sacred fire 
 Hid in the heart, and each on each depends 
 To feed the flame that never should expire. 
 
 But on the heavenly orbs black shadows fall. 
 
 And dark ecHpses frequently are seen, 
 And all their light seems hidden with a pall 
 
 When orbs that have no light may intervene. 
 And there are dark, cold hearts that sometimes shed 
 
 Their baneful influence like the Upas tree, 
 With venom nourished, and with poison fed. 
 
 Dissolving all that should be unity. 
 
 May Heaven shield you from such friends as these, 
 
 Who while they smile may deal a deadly wound, 
 And, being gifted with the power to please. 
 
 Preserve you still to smile on all around. 
 Though dark may be the wilderness, our fears 
 
 Should flee before the pillar's guiding light ; 
 So friendship's smile can dry our bitter tears. 
 
 As dewdrops vanish when the sun shines bright. 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 9 
 
 FOR THE BLANK LEAF OF A 
 PHOTOGRAPHIC ALBUM. 
 
 Ji#) EAVES from the tree of memory that fall 
 ■71^ About our path, and startle as they come, 
 Like the first spoils of Autumn, and recall 
 
 Thoughts of departed Springs, and that sweet home 
 Where all was Spring, whose form, Hke early flowers, 
 
 Their incense and their fragrance still impart. 
 Twining their tendrils round life's later hours, 
 
 All blooming in the garden of the heart. 
 
 Like shadows on life's dial, joy or pain 
 
 Ye yield, as light or darkness may prevail : 
 Darkness to those who never more again 
 
 The sunny light of love may hope to hail ; 
 And light to those who, guided by the beam 
 
 Of eyes that gave them welcome, still may find. 
 Though hope for ever has passed down the stream. 
 
 Some floating lilies still remain behind. 
 
 Soft beaming orbs of friendship's little sky 
 
 Of varied glory, as the sun and moon. 
 How swiftly m their orbits they pass by. 
 
 Leaving a twilight when it should be noon : 
 And some are morning, some are evening stars, 
 I And some at midnight shed a cheering ray, 
 
 I Peering like moonlight shed through prison bars, 
 I And then for ever hastening away. j 
 
 k ?^ 
 
:^ ": ^ 
 
 lo Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Mummies of memory, may we unshroud, 
 
 In these fair traceries, the forms of those 
 Who may perchance be hid by that dark cloud 
 
 That hides aUke from us our friends and foes ; 
 And roll away the stone that from our sight 
 
 Hides that frail treasure which we last could keep ; 
 And bid them all, unbound, come forth to light, 
 
 Like Lazarus starting from his caverned sleep. 
 
 y{ K 
 
Poems 011 Various Subjects. ii 
 
 LONELINESS. 
 
 LOVE to breathe the mountain air, 
 I love to pluck the mountain flower : 
 Unsullied virgins ! dwelling where 
 
 No taint of sin may ever pour 
 The blush of shame upon their cheek. 
 
 And, oh ! what joy to hear them tell — 
 To hear the mountain flowers speak — 
 His praise who has done all things well. 
 
 Go run at pleasure's syren call, . 
 
 Be fashion's slave and devotee ; 
 High in the mountain's airy hall 
 
 Far greater beauties wait for me : 
 The gentian with her eyes so blue, 
 
 And saxifrages sweet and fair — 
 So fresh, new washed in mountain dew — 
 
 Are waiting, and expect me there. 
 
 I love the gloomy, trackless wood — 
 
 I wish to meet with no man there — 
 Where patriarchal trees have stood 
 
 (Hoary with age, and yet not bare ; 
 For mosses green, and lichens grey. 
 
 And tangled woodbine help to grace) 
 From ancient days remote away. 
 
 And who their pedigree may trace ? 
 
 '?? K 
 
12 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Surely the flood was never here, 
 
 For every tree doth seem to stand, 
 In groups or singly, far and near. 
 
 As when they came forth from the hand 
 Of Him, who, by His might and power, 
 
 Brought forth the bramble and the tree, 
 The earth to yield both weed and flower. 
 
 By His Almighty, " Let them be." 
 
 O, what companionship in these 
 
 First tenants of the universe ! 
 These ancient, hoary, talking trees, 
 
 What rare old legends they rehearse ? 
 And histories of the world relate, 
 
 When she was fresh, and fair, and young ; 
 What mysteries of an early date. 
 
 What spirits wander here and throng ! 
 
 The darkening vistas that descend, 
 
 The twilight 's dim of forest gloom. 
 Where those tall beeches meet and bend — 
 
 Their shade like banners o'er a tomb : 
 With these I can communion hold, 
 
 Deep in the forest's dark recess, 
 And while each spirit tale is told, 
 
 O, who shall say 'tis loneliness ? 
 
 I know a ravine dark and deep. 
 In which the sun has never shone 
 
 For centuries past — all seems asleep : — 
 This sacred spot is all my own. 
 
 And I could say and almost swear 
 That in this melancholy place 
 
 yi K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 13 
 
 No foot had ever wandered there, 
 No hand had left the slightest trace. 
 
 No name was carved upon the bark 
 
 Of that low-drooping white birch tree, 
 That like a spirit in the dark 
 
 Disturbed the dim serenity. 
 The twilight gloom that rested there, 
 
 The shadowed evening of the place, 
 Like that which in the house of prayer. 
 
 In crypts and vaults we love to trace. 
 
 I never found a flower there, 
 
 It was too dark, and none would grow ; 
 The primrose that grows everywhere 
 
 Refused in this dark spot to blow ; 
 But ivy-mantled jutting blocks 
 
 Relieved the deadness of the scene, 
 , And here and there the hanging rocks 
 
 Were clothed with lichens grey and green ; 
 
 And such rare tufts of lady fern, 
 
 With fronds that arched so gracefully, 
 Like fairy palms at every turn ; 
 
 And at the base of each tall tree 
 The polypod, whose under side 
 
 Was spangled o'er with powdery gold ; 
 And there the hartstongue, in its pride. 
 
 Its shining leathery leaves unrolled. 
 
 . A little river murmurs through 
 
 This gloomy dell — though rarely seen — 
 Forcing its way, quite hid from view, 
 Mis-shapen blocks of stone between ; 
 
 ?? K 
 
:^ 
 
 14 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 K 
 
 Chiding and murmuring as it went — 
 With every stone some word to say — 
 
 As if demanding what it meant 
 By blocking up its lawful way. 
 
 How like a child who, half asleep, 
 
 Sings to itself its dreamy song, 
 And starting now and then to weep 
 
 And cry aloud, and tell its wrong ; 
 Then gossiping what it had seen 
 
 Of birds, and flowers, and humming bees, 
 Of thickets, groves, and woodland green, 
 
 And shady dells o'erhung with trees. 
 
 I once saw there a little wren. 
 
 Peering about with restless wing — 
 I think it never came again — 
 
 Poor little melancholy thing : 
 Too lonely for the little bird, 
 
 Too destitute it seemed to be ; 
 Unknown, unnoticed, unpreferred, 
 
 And therefore left alone to me. 
 
 >?- 
 
 Thus do I when I'm most alone 
 
 Enjoy the most society. 
 And every tree and every stone 
 
 Are ordained ministers to me : 
 Each hath its doctrine to expound. 
 
 Each hath its lessons to rehearse- 
 Divinity the most profound. 
 
 The mysteries of the universe. 
 
 K 
 
^ 
 
 Poe7ns oji Various Subjects. 15 
 
 STx\NZAS. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 .xW'VE seen the light of other eyes 
 
 Shine languidly with soft desire, 
 Borrowing their lustre from those skies 
 
 Where glowing suns lend that soft fire 
 That tinges deep the glowing cheek 
 
 Of Andalusia's, dark-eyed maid, 
 Like tawny summer fruits that speak 
 
 Of that bright land that knows no shade ; 
 Though other eyes may brighter be, 
 
 From all I '11 turn my eyes to thee. 
 
 I 've seen the dark -eyed beauties bind 
 
 Fair rosebuds in their raven hair. 
 Maybe with blushing pearls entwined. 
 
 Or wreathed with orange blossoms fair ; 
 And though these pearls and blossoms shone 
 
 Like stars between the clouds at night, 
 I'll turn from them to thee alone. 
 
 And think of thee with more delight ; 
 When I may view those unconfined. 
 
 Thy tresses fair play with the wind. 
 
 yi K 
 
1 6 Poems oft Various Subjects. 
 
 I've seen thy jewelled bosom when 
 
 The chandeUer its Hght has shed, 
 Seeming some fairy mountain glen, 
 
 With virgin snows of winter spread : 
 Then I remembered snow was cold. 
 
 And cold, cold hearts beneath may beat. 
 How then I longed for to enfold 
 
 One bosom fair that still had heat, 
 Whereon, although no jewels shone, 
 
 A heart was there, and all my own. 
 
 I've felt soft music's soothing power 
 
 From gentle maidens' voices rise. 
 Ascending in the twilight hour. 
 
 Like balmy incense, to the skies ; 
 Then dreams would come of thee, whose voice 
 
 Could bid the sleeping echoes start. 
 And make the wilderness rejoice. 
 
 The wilderness of this cold heart ; 
 One whisper soft from thee will bring 
 
 More joy than all the birds of spring. 
 
 •n ^ K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 17 
 
 THE WATERFALL. 
 
 WRITTEN IX COMMEMORATION OF A VISIT TO WINDERMERE. 
 
 S^ELL US the secret of your birth, 
 ^ Ye waters wild that stray, 
 Rushing with headlong fury forth, 
 
 Adown this rocky way. 
 Say, are ye fatherless? or claim 
 
 A lineage old and high ? 
 Or some fair child without a name 
 
 That hastily goes by ? 
 A wandering waterfall ! 
 A lovely waterfall ! 
 That, fairy-like, would flee away 
 
 Unseen, unknown of all. 
 
 Among the mountain cliffs away. 
 
 Where granite peaks arise. 
 Where human foot may never stray. 
 
 Nor mortal's daring eyes 
 Presume to spy the nakedness 
 
 Of those bleak mountain blocks ; 
 Where (child of the lone wilderness 
 
 And daughter of the rocks) 
 A fairy waterfall ! 
 A playful waterfall ! 
 Here you may see where I was born : 
 
 The mountain's lonely hall. 
 
 "n K 
 
:^ 
 
 
 ~^^ 
 
 i8 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 \ 
 
 1 
 
 
 Who is my father ? clouds that fly, 
 
 
 
 And vapours that are cast 
 Against the shattered cHffs on high, 
 
 Urged onward by the blast, 
 With rain, and mist, and blinding sleet, 
 
 Which winds and tempests bring. 
 And lay as tribute at the feet 
 
 Of winter's hoary king. 
 A timid waterfall I 
 A modest waterfall ! 
 My history I've told in part. 
 
 How shall I tell you all ? 
 
 My mother is the mountain snow. 
 
 Spread on the uplands wild, 
 Unknown to all the world below, 
 
 And I am her fair child : 
 Nursed by the breezes and the heat. 
 
 My strength I did essay, 
 And from my parents' icy feet 
 
 I stole at length away — 
 A feeble waterfall ! 
 A tiny waterfall ! 
 Child of the mist, and rain, and snow, 
 
 Wrapt in a vapoury pall. 
 
 With kindred sisters of the hills — 
 
 A playful, smiling band 
 Of brooks, and rivulets, and rills — 
 
 We went forth hand in hand . 
 As children in their mirth and play 
 
 Crowd in the evening hours ; 
 
 1 
 
 7( ^ -K 
 
Poejtis on Various Subjects. 19 
 
 So we together forth did stray, 
 And left our mountain flowers, 
 A careless waterfall ! 
 A heedless waterfall ! 
 What visions of- the hills among 
 Our wanderings may recall ! 
 
 But how shall we presume to tell 
 
 Our journeyings to the plain, 
 Through moor, and mist, and swamp, and fell ? 
 
 The task would be in vain : 
 Divided now by broken rocks, 
 
 Now gathered into one, 
 Then struggling 'tween the mossy blocks. 
 
 But always battHng on — 
 A wakeful waterfall ! 
 A restless waterfall ! 
 Though rocks and blocks may bar our course, 
 
 We force our way through all. 
 
 Now in the crystal mountain lake, 
 
 Round which rare mosses creep, 
 Like children who too long awake, 
 
 We sink at length to sleep ; 
 And rocks and cliffs keep watch around, 
 
 And guard with jealous care ; 
 The very spot seems holy ground. 
 
 And few may venture there. 
 A slumbering waterfall ! 
 A sleeping waterfall ! 
 Our curtains are the mountain mist, 
 
 Spread round about us all. 
 
 'yi >^ 
 
;^ ~ ] — ~ — ■ — i^ 
 
 20 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Then from the bosom of the lake 
 
 A strengthened child I go, 
 And like a giant just awake 
 
 I seek the world below ; 
 Now rushing down the rocky waste, 
 
 Like steeds untamed, I run, 
 Divided now like friends in haste, 
 
 Then gathered into one— 
 A foaming waterfall ! 
 A furious waterfall ! 
 Though cTiallenged by a thousand blocks 
 
 I force my way through all. 
 
 And those who love the bold and grand 
 
 Now view me with delight. 
 While on the brink the timid stand 
 
 And view with wild afright ; 
 Huge nodding rocks seen bending o'er 
 
 To view the fearful scene 
 Where, rushing with incessant roar, 
 
 We force our way between — 
 A hidden waterfall ! 
 A troubled waterfall ! 
 Divided but to meet again, 
 
 I bounding pass through all. 
 
 For ever varying in our course — 
 Now east, and south, and west — 
 
 Unbridled like the desert horse. 
 We roam where we like best : 
 
 Now foaming white in maddened heat, 
 With rage we gallop fast, 
 
 I 
 
 ^. K 
 
^ J^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 2 
 
 Then like a lamb at maiden's feet 
 In play we gambol past — 
 A raging waterfall ! 
 A changing waterfall ! 
 A dreadful, fearful, playful thing ! 
 A wondrous thins to all ! 
 
 '& 
 
 Now headlong down the rugged steep, 
 
 With fearful haste, we go, 
 And like the suicide we leap 
 
 To the dark pool below ; 
 And jutting crag and pointed rock 
 
 Peep from the sheet of foam. 
 And here and there some trembling block 
 
 Seems half inclined to come 
 And join the waterfall ! 
 The thundering waterfall ! 
 That boiling, seething, foaming goes 
 
 Through rocks, and blocks, and all. 
 
 And now the whole becomes a scene 
 
 That painters love to view : 
 With bending tree and leafy screen. 
 
 Seem bidding us adieu ; 
 And there the rude and slender bridge 
 
 Hangs o'er the boiling tide. 
 By which you pass from ridge to ridge, 
 
 And gain the other side 
 To view the waterfall ! 
 The lovely waterfall ! 
 That makes the whole enchanted ground, 
 
 And fascinates us all. 
 
 i^ K 
 
>^ ^ ] K 
 
 2 2 Poems 071 Varioiis Subjects. \ 
 
 And all arouiid the fronded pride 
 
 Of lovely forms are spread ; 
 The lady fern spreads far and wide 
 
 Like plumes above the dead ; 
 The leathery heartstongue revels there, 
 
 The oakfern and the beech, 
 And filmy gems so rich and rare, 
 
 Which none may ever reach, 
 Hang o'er the waterfall ! 
 Half-hidden waterfall I 
 Would you see Nature in her pride, 
 
 Go to the waterfall. 
 
 And surely inspiration deep 
 
 Hangs o'er the haunted stream : 
 Are we aw^ake ? or do we sleep ? 
 
 Or do we sleep and dream ? 
 Strange sympathies are brought to birth 
 
 Which we may not define. 
 And musings deep, but not of earth, 
 
 Around our spirits twine 
 When by the waterfall ! 
 The solemn waterfall ! 
 We cast the w^orld and all behind 
 
 When at the waterfall ! 
 
 Communion with the world unknown, 
 
 And interminglings sweet. 
 Oh ! who can think themselves alone 
 
 In such a blest retreat ? 
 Strange influences float around, 
 
 What gushing tears have fell, 
 
 >? ^ 
 
^ ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 23 
 
 When we have trod such holy ground; 
 And why ? we cannot tell. 
 
 Why in the waterfall ! 
 
 Around the waterfall ! 
 Long-hidden tears burst from the heart 
 
 When at the waterfall. 
 
 Sweet half-remembered music floats, 
 
 Like music heard in dreams : 
 Strange melody like angel notes 
 
 Comes to us from the streams. 
 What voices from the unknown land 
 
 Familiar to us call ? 
 What spirits lead us by the hand 
 
 Around the waterfall ? 
 Inspiring waterfall ! 
 Enrapturing waterfall ! 
 That lulls the troubled heart to sleep — 
 
 The soothing waterfall ! 
 
 -n : K 
 
24 Poems on Various Siibjeds. 
 
 SPECIALITY. 
 
 ,[^i|rHINK not the tears I shed for you 
 
 "^ Fall from their source like evening dew, 
 
 Shedding around its silvery shower, 
 
 On herb, and weed, and shrub, and flower. 
 
 Why should you think the smothered sigh 
 Is like the zephyr passing by, 
 Whispering its tales of love so sweet. 
 To every blossom it may meet ? 
 
 Think not the breast that heaves for thee 
 Is like the motion of the sea, 
 That goes and comes, and goes again, 
 In storm and sunshine, or in rain. 
 
 Alone for thee the tears will start. 
 And sighs will break forth from the heart 
 That beats and heaves for thee alone. 
 And will no other idol own. 
 
 y{ K 
 
^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 25 
 
 THE GILLIFLOWER. 
 
 ^AY, mournful flower, 
 
 ^ Why thou in lonehness doth deign to dwell 
 On ruined tower, 
 Or mouldering stones above the holy well, 
 And broken arch of Abbey in the dell ? 
 
 Why do we greet 
 Thy modesty on shattered columns tall ? 
 
 Thy fragrance sweet 
 Is offered up where crumbling turrets fall, 
 Thy incense altar some old castle wall. 
 
 Why dost thou shed, 
 In dreary solitude, thy rich perfume 
 
 Among the dead, 
 In churchyard quietude and solemn gloom, 
 Or belfry, porch, or crevice of the tomb? 
 
 i Why dost thou shun 
 
 In garden trim or gay parterre to dwell. 
 And from us run, 
 
 j To live like hermit in his lonely cell, 
 
 Or saintly nun in convent in the dell ? 
 
 j Are not our flowers 
 
 ! Companions meet for fellowship with thee ? 
 
 Why shun our bowers, 
 : And all their sweet and fair society ? 
 
 ; Why from such sisterhood an exile be? 
 
 ?? ^ ?^ 
 
26 Poems oil Various Subjects. | 
 
 Why not come forth 
 From thy lone dwelHng on the ruin bleak ? 
 The wintry north, with driving snow, 
 
 Will blanch thy golden cheek ; 
 To thee no love-tale will the tempest speak. 
 
 Cool is the shade 
 Where thy fair kindred dwell in sweet repose ; 
 
 And they have made 
 A couch for thee where the sweetwilliam blows, 
 And thou shalt wed the lily or the rose. 
 
 Bloom on, bloom on, 
 Thou ancient, lonely, ruin-haunting flower. 
 
 And dwell alone ; 
 Nor seek to leave thy solitary bower, 
 Still hang thy garlands on the timeworn tower. 
 
 Oh ! when the blight 
 Of withered friendship, and cold-hearted scorn. 
 
 And the dark night, 
 , Delays the joy that's promised in the morn 
 To the lone heart, with care and sorrow torn — 
 
 Let us reflect : 
 He who sustains thee on the broken wall 
 
 Will not neglect 
 To mingle balm and honey with our gall — 
 He who doth notice when the sparrows fall. 
 
 The lonely heart, 
 Fed with the dews of hope's refreshing shower. 
 
 May feel the smart 
 Of tribulation for one bitter hour. 
 And then the ruin yields a smiling flower. 
 
 -n - K 
 
:^ ^ . ^ 
 
 Poems on Varioiis Subjects. 27 | 
 
 __ 1 
 
 TWILIGHT. 
 
 ffiycAIL ! saintly daughter of departing day, 
 '^ That like a misty spirit hovers round, 
 With long, dark, shadowy hair, 
 Disordered and unbound. 
 
 Sweet counsel, maiden, I have took with thee. 
 And thou hast whispered music in mine ear, 
 
 Pleading with spirit-voice 
 
 For one warm gushing tear 
 
 To treasure in the vial for the tomb 
 Of thy dead sister, the departed day, 
 
 Who, though of darkness born, 
 
 Was glorious in decay. 
 
 Maiden, thy sister has but gone to rest ; 
 This death-like silence is but peaceful sleep ; 
 
 Then why mourn like the dove, 
 
 Or like an orphan weep ? 
 
 Then let us turn aside that we may see 
 This daily miracle, this wondrous sight : 
 
 Morning of darkness born, 
 
 And darkness of the night. 
 
 'Ti. ^ K 
 
^__^ ^ 
 
 28 Poems oil Various Subjects. 
 
 Each following each, they daily do declare 
 Creation's drama as it first was played, 
 
 And how the earth appeared 
 
 Ere matter first obeyed 
 
 The mighty mandate severing night from light. 
 Rousing old chaos from her ancient dream, 
 
 Bursting the gates of night 
 
 And letting in the stream 
 
 Of matter luminous, struggling to expand, 
 Like pent-up waters of some sullen flood : 
 
 God gazed upon the work 
 
 And saw it very good. 
 
 But in the sad, yet pleasing, twilight hour, 
 When dreamy nothingness steals over all, 
 
 Earth, air, and tree, and flower. 
 
 Mingling do seem to fall 
 
 To their primeval elements again. 
 Insensibly even the human mind 
 
 Seems like a castaway 
 
 Some ship has left behind 
 
 On some lone island in the mighty deep, 
 Where the creation had not yet begun> 
 
 AVhose cold, grey atmosphere, 
 
 Had never seen a sun, 
 
 >? ]?«: 
 
M : a. 
 
 Foems on Various Subjects. 29 I 
 
 Cut off from all communion with the world, 
 The mind falls on itself, and then appears 
 
 With tapers burning dim — • 
 
 Ghosts of departed years. 
 
 The mind falls on itself, but like the dove 
 Sent from the ark, it finds no place of rest, 
 
 But hurries o'er the waste 
 
 Fatigued, alarmed, distress'd ; 
 
 Beats with its drooping wing at that fair gate 
 It issued forth from, eager to explore 
 
 The mountain-tops of hope 
 
 And then return no more. 
 
 Finding no olive token, in despair 
 Across the watery wilderness it flies, 
 
 And what earth cannot give 
 
 Is granted in the skies. 
 
 Hail, twilight ! solemn hour ! with thy soft voice 
 Singing the requiem of departed day. 
 
 What whispering low will come 
 
 With thy dim shadows grey. 
 
 That tells us with our longing eyes to look 
 Where faith has partly burst the pondrous door, 
 
 And glorious light shines through 
 
 That bids us doubt no more. 
 
 'yi K 
 
^ ^ ^ 
 
 30 Foeins on Various Subjects. 
 
 Material germs for ages lie concealed 
 
 In clefts, and caves, and caverns of the earth 
 
 They are not dead but sleep, 
 
 But will not come to birth 
 
 Till their appointed season ; so shall we 
 Mingle our atoms with our parent ground. 
 
 And not one shall be lost, 
 
 But surely shall be found 
 
 The filmy matter to form future worlds. 
 Who gathers it and stores it upon high ? 
 
 Who hang-s a million worlds 
 
 In the dark vaulted sky ? 
 
 How simple then the mighty work will seem- 
 Though dissipated into dust or air — 
 
 To gather it again, 
 
 And glorify it there. 
 
 X K 
 
:>i : '■ a. 
 
 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 31 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 ^W^HEY told me that she was a bride, 
 ^-> Before the holy altar plighted, 
 They told me with a parents' pride, 
 
 And wondered I was not delighted ; 
 And visions bright of happiness, 
 
 Day dreams that few have realized. 
 They bid me shadow forth and bless 
 
 The victim whom they sacrificed. 
 
 They saw my cheek grow deadly pale, 
 
 The lustre of the eye declining ; 
 The tenderest care did not avail. 
 
 The mystery was past divining. 
 My wandering steps were watched by day. 
 
 They round my midnight slumbers hovered, 
 And hoped sleep's whisperings might betray 
 
 Where lay the well still undiscovered. 
 
 They little dreamt she was the cause, 
 
 Whom I had loved as loves a brother. 
 And parents' pride and mortals' laws 
 
 Had robbed me to enrich another. 
 I envied not the stranger's bliss. 
 
 How often w^as the heart reproving 
 To know and feel the treasure his 
 
 And still to feel that I was loving. 
 
 i??- ^ $?: 
 
32 Poems on Varums Subjects. 
 
 Heart-unions, they are things divine, 
 
 Pure motives all are gifts of heaven. 
 Then why before the holy shrine 
 
 Are such nnJioly pledges given ? 
 Frail vows that they may never keep, 
 
 Whose hearts no purity possessing. 
 Join hand in hand, then start from sleep 
 
 To find a bond without a blessing. 
 
 Our sympathies are fearful things, 
 
 Where they can meet with no returning, 
 And those cold morsels pity flings. 
 
 Like drops of oil fall on the burning. 
 To sow where we may never reap. 
 
 And then all other gods forsaking, 
 Pray to an idol fast asleep — 
 
 A sleep from which there's no awaking. 
 
 >? ■ ^ K 
 
Poems 071 Various Subjects. 33 
 
 THE HEAVENS DECLARE THE GLORY 
 OF GOD. 
 
 Mm ORD ! what are we, that to our wondering sight 
 
 ''^'^ Thou shouldest unfold 
 
 Thy glories in the still and silent night ? 
 
 Where, wrote in gold, 
 Illumined with a million orbs of light, 
 And where the index finger doth invite, 
 
 And cry, behold ! 
 
 The volume of the universe is spread 
 
 Open to all, 
 Inscribed in characters that may be read 
 
 By great and small, 
 Unlike those mystic sentences so dread 
 Assyria's Monarch saw — and felt as dead — 
 
 Written on the wall. 
 
 No hieroglyphics these ; — from where the Nile 
 
 Slowly along 
 Rolls by the pyramid, or mighty pile 
 
 Where pillars throng 
 And obelisks and sphinxes in defile : 
 In Karnoe's Temple or Philoe's Isle — 
 
 An unknown tongue, 
 
 >? K 
 
34 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Written in symbols few may understand — 
 
 Strange, mysterious things, 
 The wondrous history of that unknown land ! 
 
 Where Memnon sings 
 When morning's beams are thrown across the sand 
 Of Nubia's desert, where the Nile so grand 
 
 Her tribute brings. 
 
 But Thou, O Lord ! across the deep blue sky, 
 
 In words of flame 
 Hath written Thy decrees, and hung on high, 
 
 To tell Thy Name, 
 A thousand banners charged wath heraldry, 
 Ten thousand orbs that pass revolving by, 
 
 And all proclaim, 
 
 , In words whose every letter is a sun. 
 
 And every line 
 Is crossed and dotted with bright worlds that run 
 
 Their course divine ; 
 And stars, and stops, and commas — every one 
 Tell of the Master who the work has done — • 
 
 Planets entwine, 
 
 In mazy labyrinths their orbits wide 
 
 Around the whole, 
 Like fair handwriting flourished round with pride : 
 
 And comets stroll 
 In lines that do the sentences divide 
 In heaven's manuscript, which undenied 
 
 We may unroll, 
 
 i^ : K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 35 
 
 And read of Him to whom a thousand years 
 
 Are but a day : 
 Of Him who traces out ten thousand spheres 
 
 And points the way, 
 And guides the mighty stranger that appears 
 Lost in a wilderness of worlds and hears 
 
 The music play, 
 
 In the great concert of the universe 
 
 Rolling along 
 The thunder of its harmony in verse. 
 
 A mighty song ! 
 Such as the planets in their course rehearse, 
 Or morning stars repeat, ere yet the curse 
 
 Its shadows fling 
 
 On this cold earth which sin has made a blot 
 
 That must remain 
 Till God be found of them who sought Him not. 
 
 And every stain 
 Be washed away, and evil all forgot, 
 And man be devoted to that lot 
 
 God did ordain. 
 
 Dig deep in Pompeii's ruins, you shall find 
 
 Things rich and rare 
 That men of ancient days have left behind, 
 
 Unperished there — 
 Declaring all how God-like was the mind 
 Of those who these rich arts designed — 
 
 vStill fresh and fair. 
 
 i^ K 
 
^ ^ 
 
 36 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Unfold the papyrus — decipher well — 
 
 There you may read 
 Strange legends which those mystic symbols tell, 
 
 And mighty deed, 
 And pregnant histories of what befell 
 The demigods of Egypt. O, who shall spell 
 
 And be agreed 
 
 To what these hoary documents declare 
 
 Of those dark days, 
 Stupendous in antiquity ? that share 
 
 The mist and haze 
 Shrouding the young world's morning. Who shall 
 
 dare 
 The serecloth from this mummy tear 
 
 And view its face ? 
 
 ■^ : K 
 
M ki: 
 
 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 37 
 
 THE NAxME ON THE TREE. 
 
 igjBLIVION is the dread of all mankind : 
 ^^ To saint and savage the great mystery 
 Is, what shall be the fate of all our kind ? 
 
 And in what state hereafter we shall be. 
 
 And few do wish eternally to die, 
 But would live on for ever, though in pain, 
 
 And not to be were a dread destiny. 
 Spirits bound down would rather wear their chains 
 
 Than be extinguished from the universe. 
 
 Annihilation were a greater curse. 
 
 And thus we live for ever on the rack, 
 
 Self-tortured with the crush of hopes and fears ; 
 
 Now looking forward, mostly looking back 
 Down the dim valley of departed years, 
 Reaping, perhaps, what we have sown, in tears ; 
 
 Weeping for precious seed, perhaps sown in vain — 
 Sorrowing, though hope the ship still steers. 
 
 Wishful the prow would turn to port again, 
 Then we our voyage might once more renew, 
 And outward-bound a better course pursue. 
 
 But still urged onwards, though life's fragile bark 
 Tossed on the sea of life seems but a speck, 
 
 As seen by others ; yet, our course to mark, 
 
 What strange mementoes we throw from the deck. 
 
 ^ "K 
 
38 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And when at length the boat becomes a wreck, 
 We pile our sad memorials on the shore 
 
 To tell to those who follow in our wake 
 Where sunk the vessel that shall rise no more. 
 
 And there the relics on the lonely beach 
 
 A moral or a mystery do teach. 
 
 And few men onward will pursue life's track, 
 But anxious are to mark the varied line, 
 
 And whether it be white, or dark, or black, 
 
 Through gloomy dells, orw^here the sun may shine, 
 Memorial wreaths we carefully entwine, 
 
 And hang them by the way, though strange, strange 
 flowers 
 And hemlock-looking herbs help to combine — 
 
 How few are wholly culled from virtue's bowers ! — 
 Then in strange characters will write their deeds. 
 And where there are no flowers hang up weeds. 
 
 Unable thus to see what is before, 
 
 We throw a light on what is left behind. 
 
 And like the comet we may see no more 
 Receding from the sun we backward wind : 
 And in our vanity and dulness blind. 
 
 Deeming the multitude as blind as we. 
 Events and incidents we seek to find. 
 
 Which, like the bottle thrown from ships at sea, 
 May, peradventure, drift to some lone bay 
 Or desert isle where few or none may stray. 
 
 7{ : K 
 
^ ■ - j^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 39 
 
 Thus in a forest, far away from men, 
 
 Carved on the bark of a fair stately tree, 
 
 I saw what perhaps may ne'er be seen again — 
 The merest chance revealed it unto me — 
 Some wanderer's name, wrote fair and legibly, 
 
 Who in the hallowedness of that lone spot — 
 The gloomiest man from such would flee — 
 
 Scared by his solitude and lonely lot, 
 
 There carved a name and date, as if to say, 
 A lonely wanderer has passed this way. 
 
 How pleasing in the wilderness to find 
 We have not trod its solitudes alone : 
 
 We joy to meet some traces of our kind. 
 
 Some mark or fragment, or, perchance, a bone, 
 Which on the desert bare is often thrown — 
 
 Sad links connecting us with this cold earth — 
 That bring, like fossils from the marble stone. 
 
 Forgotten things a second time to birth. 
 Revealing unto all that dare to see 
 Life that has always been, will always be. 
 
 What prompted thee, lone wanderer, to write 
 Thy superscription in so strange a book ? 
 
 To such a library, shrouded in the night. 
 
 That few, or none, thereon may hope to look. 
 O ! didst thou deem thyself by all forsook ? 
 
 Lost and alone, a thousand miles from home, [brook- 
 And, fearing like the prophet by the dried-up 
 
 Thou didst not dream the ravens there would come — 
 Is all hfe's dreaming, life's dim taper, nearly spent— 
 Wrote here the final will and testament. 
 
 'yi ?< 
 
40 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Giving the body that he cannot keep 
 
 Back to the earth that gave it him, and then 
 
 Dying alone where there was none to weep, 
 The dust returned unto the dust again. 
 So perisheth the beast, so perish men : 
 
 One common death, but not one common lot ; 
 The dust may blend together now, but when 
 
 Things that will rise again — and what will not ? — 
 Shall be made known, he who wrote on the tree. 
 Forgotten now, will then remembered be. 
 
 " O that my w^ords were, with an iron pen, 
 
 Graven for ever in the solid rock ! " 
 The words were graven, and remain ; the men 
 
 Who carved their histories on the granite block — 
 
 As if all human vanity to mock — 
 Are all forgotten, as midst Sinai's peaks — 
 
 Spared by the lightning and the thunder shock. 
 And storms that howl and play their demon freaks — 
 
 The chiselled legends to this day remain. 
 
 Written as none may read, so wrote in vain. 
 
 Some men have written in blood, and some in tears, 
 And some in bitterness of soul have flung 
 
 Words so like fire, to burn in coming years : 
 Then sunk their spirits in a flood of song. 
 Some, where oblivion's waters roll along, 
 
 Write their vain histories on the sandy beach, 
 And death obliviates. O for a tongue, 
 
 Spirit, and heart that daily would beseech 
 Mercy's fair angel, with her golden knife. 
 To carve our names deep in the Tree of Life ! 
 
^ ^ }^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 41 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 fHOU, whom before the nations plead, 
 Nor lift their hands in vain, 
 Unto my lifted hands take heed, 
 
 And always me sustain. 
 In darkness be my shining light. 
 
 My guiding cloud by day, 
 Let not me swerve to left or right, 
 But lead me in Thy way. 
 
 Thou, whom before the nations bow 
 
 With reverence and dread, 
 When I am feeble, faint, and low. 
 
 Do Thou lift up my head. 
 Let no false gods my heart ensnare, 
 
 But let it still decree 
 No idol shall its homage share. 
 
 Nor other gods but Thee. 
 
 Thou, whom before the nations raise 
 
 The tributes of their voice, 
 Thee, and Thee only, let me praise — 
 
 In Thee alone rejoice. 
 At early dawn be Thou my song. 
 
 At noonday my delight, 
 And let the evening shades prolong 
 
 My praises through the night. 
 
 -n \ ?«: 
 
42 Poems oil Various Subjects. 
 
 THOUGHTS ON THE STARS. 
 
 S^HE oracles of God, wrote on the skies, 
 ^ And every letter is a blazing sun. 
 And whosoever there shall lift their eyes 
 
 May read their utterance in the shining throng : 
 Not in Samaritan or Hebrew text. 
 
 May I search for the wisdom from on high, 
 Not in the Sanscrit shall I be perplexed : 
 
 My bible has been written on the sky, 
 And there the unlearned men of every nation 
 May read the record which needs no translation. 
 
 Eternal language ! on the azure blue 
 
 Of heaven's canopy its words appear, 
 Eternally the same, where nothing new 
 
 Shall with the testimonies interfere. 
 All speech may change, and every language fail 
 
 Its mysteries and meaning to expound ; 
 Surely the glittering orbs shall never fail 
 
 To bear the record while they roll around 
 Their mighty paths ; wide the decrees are known, 
 Whose words are wrote in fire, and not in stone. 
 
 i^ ^ 
 
Poems oil Various Subjects. 43 
 
 Stupendous alphabet ! oh, who may learn 
 
 The unknown name such glorious letters spell ? 
 And who the hidden meaning may discern — 
 
 Their Urim and their Thummim who may tell ? 
 How dim were Aaron's jewels, matched with those 
 
 Bright ameythists and garnets of the sky ; 
 What precious stones a breastplate could compose 
 
 To equal those bright orbs that flame on high ? 
 Glittering like frozen vapour on a wall, 
 Or silver tracery on an azure pall. 
 
 No " Mene Tekel," wrote with spectre hand, 
 
 Is on the illumined dome of heaven displayed ; 
 And where is the wise man to understand 
 
 The glowing scripture ? Who shall be afraid 
 Of threats and warnings published by the stars, 
 
 Or tell what their conjunctions may portend — 
 Or how the place of Mercury or Mars 
 
 Shall make of each an enemy or friend ? 
 The teaching of the stars shall only prove 
 That God is powerful, and God is love. 
 
 Surely the savage there may learn a creed 
 
 That colleges and churches may not teach. 
 And he that is unlettered there may read 
 
 Such sermons as man may never preach. 
 Who study well these orbs shall feel inspired 
 
 With all that gives and makes a man sublime, 
 And find the altar of the heart refined 
 
 With that strange light that in the olden time 
 Shone round the prophets in the holy songs. 
 And, at Pentecost, strange fiery tongues. 
 
 '>? k 
 
^ ^ 
 
 44 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And surely it is not idolatry 
 
 With those who unto heaven lift their eyes 
 And bow the heart, though bending not the knee, 
 
 And offer up the nightly sacrifice. 
 We venerate the temples where the spire 
 
 Points to the heavens as the blest abode ; — 
 Shall not the heart be lifted higher, higher, 
 
 Where heaven's own lamps illuminate the road 
 To Him who dwells in majesty alone 
 With sun and stars revolving round His throne. 
 
 Who shall declare where the Creator dwells. 
 
 When every star His dwelling place may be; — 
 Men locaHse their heavens and their hells. 
 
 But His pavilion is immensity. 
 The morning stars sung when the universe 
 
 Was first spread out and measured with a span — 
 Who shall declare the echoes of the verse 
 
 Have never fallen on the ear of man ? 
 Thus to His dwelling place who shall ascend. 
 Though all the stars their guiding light may lend. 
 
 Think not, vain man, to read thy destiny 
 
 On heaven's volume, spread from pole to pole : 
 The planets do not rise or set for thee. 
 
 Nor blazing suns around their orbits roll. 
 Shall fiery meteors thy fate declare ? 
 
 Shedding their radiance on the startled earth : 
 Shall fiery stars or blazing comets glare ? — 
 
 And all to mark a feeble mortal's birth. 
 Thou mayest an hireling live or hero fall, 
 Nor stars nor planets note the thing at all ! 
 
 yi K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 45 
 
 No ! He that doth the floors of heaven deck 
 
 With stars, Hke ashes cast upon the ground, 
 And hangs, as jewels, worlds about His neck, 
 
 Whose temples are with suns and planets crown'd. 
 But testifies His majesty thereby 
 
 And shews the glory of His temple gate. 
 And laughs to scorn he who would soar on high 
 
 To read the heavens as a book of fate. 
 The starry heavens shall not testify 
 How men are born and live, or how they die. 
 
 Who views the stars aright shall never fail 
 
 To hold communion with his Maker there : 
 And he shall not transgress who cries "All hail!" 
 
 And sees the New Jerusalem up there — 
 Great temple, where a man shall yield his heart 
 
 A sacrifice, accepted and approved. 
 And feel himself a portion and a part 
 
 Of spirit, which in the beginning moved — 
 A glimmering light above the shapeless _e3,rth, 
 And brought the stars and sun and moor^birth. 
 
 ■% . K 
 
M 
 
 
 i< 
 
 46 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 
 
 THE CHAINED BIBLE. 
 
 
 
 ^^HE glorious rays of heaven, 
 
 
 
 "^ That make the earth look bright — 
 
 
 
 When day was born of darkness, 
 
 
 
 And God said, " Be there light "— 
 
 
 
 Run through the whole creation, 
 
 
 
 And lit up all the spheres ; 
 
 
 
 And worlds have rolled in glory, 
 
 
 
 Throughout the countless years, 
 
 
 
 Unvarying in their courses, 
 
 
 
 From which they never stray, 
 
 
 
 In night-time how resplendent, 
 
 
 
 How beautiful by day. 
 
 
 
 Each moves in its own orbit, 
 
 
 
 Needing no guiding rein — 
 
 
 
 Free from the bit and bridle. 
 
 
 
 Unfettered with a chain. 
 
 
 
 And shall a shadow darken 
 
 
 
 The Sun of Righteousness ? 
 
 
 
 The light shed on the Gentiles, 
 
 
 
 Shall mankind make it less ? 
 
 
 y( 
 
 
 ^_J< 
 
)4 
 
 
 j^ 
 
 
 Poems on Various Stcbjeds. 
 
 47 
 
 
 Who shall the Gospel candle 
 
 
 
 That glimmers far and wide — 
 
 
 
 The beacon of salvation — 
 
 
 
 Beneath the bushel hide ? 
 
 
 
 Why should the Gospel trumpet 
 
 
 
 Give no preparing call, 
 
 
 
 Mute as the harps at Babel, 
 
 
 
 That gave no sound at all ? 
 
 
 
 Why should the waiting nations 
 
 
 
 In bitterness complain — 
 
 
 
 The world is a sealed fountain, 
 
 
 
 The Bible has a chain ? 
 
 
 
 Chained down as is a captive, 
 
 
 
 Stole from far lands away, 
 
 
 
 That sleeps at night in fetters. 
 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 And walks in brass by day ! 
 
 
 1 
 
 Guarded lest they should lose thee, 
 
 
 i 
 
 Who prize thee as their gold, 
 
 
 i 
 
 Fearful as of a treasure 
 
 
 
 Whose worth may not be told; — 
 
 
 1 
 
 There is a certain promise 
 
 
 
 The captive shall be free : 
 
 
 
 Go forth with joyful tidings — 
 
 
 
 Go forth with liberty ! 
 
 
 
 Go forth in all thy beauty. 
 
 
 
 O'er every hill and plain. 
 
 
 
 The world will call thee blessed. 
 
 
 1 
 
 When thou hast broke the chain ! 
 
 
 1 
 
 -n 
 
 
 K 
 
M' 
 
 48 
 
 Poems on Varhms Subjects. 
 
 u. 
 
 The lightning may be vanquished, 
 
 And held in captive thrall, 
 And taught to do man's bidding, 
 
 And carry news to all ; 
 The bursting mountain torrent, 
 
 Scooping the mountain side, 
 Shall be stayed in the valley. 
 
 And there be turned aside ; 
 The mad waves of the ocean. 
 
 Receding, shall stand back, 
 And own themselves as conquered. 
 
 And seek another track : 
 But when the piles of Egypt 
 
 Are levelled with the plain 
 The Word of God, enduring. 
 
 Shall never wear a chain. 
 
 >?- 
 
 K 
 
M }i. 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 49 
 
 THE DISC. 
 
 -cW MARK no hours but those that are serene, 
 
 ^ I write my lines with pencil dipped in light ; 
 I never pen when shadows intervene 
 
 Me and the sun ; I only love to write 
 When scented roses open to the sun, 
 
 And cowslips strew the meadows and the dell — 
 When brooks rejoice that winter's work is done : 
 
 Of pleasant things like these I love to tell. 
 
 I toll no bell or play melodious chime 
 
 Like that which comes from tower or turret grey, 
 Heard in the twilight hour, like some soft rhyme 
 
 Which angels love to chant, or spirits play : 
 I point in silence how the hours are born, 
 
 And when the golden moments come to birth — 
 I mark the advent of the noon and moon, 
 
 And then the motion of the rolling earth. 
 
 How noiselessly it travels on and on. 
 
 Hanging on nothing in the plains of space ; 
 No beaten track to set its feet upon, 
 
 Yet glorying like a giant in the race. 
 How it rolls on and leaves the sun behind, 
 
 Careering in its orbit day by day, 
 And though its motion we may never find, 
 
 I tell how, like a thief, it steals away, 
 
 y{ . K 
 
50 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 A thief that none may hope to overtake, 
 
 And none recover what it steals away — 
 The silver moments and the hours which make 
 
 The sum and total of the golden day : 
 The golden days, which, added, make the years 
 
 That stand like landmarks on the misty shore 
 As we sail o'er an ocean filled with tears, 
 
 Where shallows threiaten and where breakers roar. 
 
 Often I stand in gardens trim and gay, 
 
 Pillared in beauty midst the laughing flowers, 
 Although I am a mourner day by day, 
 
 Throwing a shadowy pall o'er the dead hours — 
 Memorial of the minutes that are fled, 
 
 Memento of the moments passed away : 
 That walked across the stage with noiseless tread. 
 
 And vanished like the spirits in the play. 
 
 And you may find me high on the church wall, 
 
 In quaint old villages we sometimes see, 
 Or hamlet grey, which memory may recall 
 
 When she delighteth in a reverie 
 Of those old spots that England still may show. 
 
 Where homesteads cluster round the village green. 
 So lost in trees the gables scarcely show, 
 
 With slender spire shooting up between. 
 
 And there among the old grey stones I stand, 
 Heeded by few, though monitor to all ; 
 
 And there I write my lines like that dead hand 
 That wrote with spectral fingers on the wall : 
 
 i^ ]F?: 
 
Poetns on Various Subjects. ' 5 1 
 
 Though I may not foretell how kings may die, 
 Nor chronicle how kingdoms may decay, 
 
 Still I proclaim to every passer by, 
 
 How morning and the evening make the day. 
 
 But still I am as nothing should the sun 
 
 Withhold the splendour of his beams from me, 
 . And I should be as lonely as the nun — 
 
 Shut from the world and all society — 
 Who barely lifts her face unto the skies, 
 
 But rather woos the shadow and the gloom. 
 And never meets the light of other eyes — 
 
 Her world a wilderness, her home a tomb. 
 
 And thus there must a combination be 
 
 Of various elements to make a whole. 
 And adverse natures mingled may agree — 
 
 The dying body and the living soul. 
 The blending- of the sunbeams make the day. 
 
 And time itself is morning, noon, and night ; — 
 The glow-worm shines when sunbeams fade away. 
 
 The diamond is dross without the light. 
 
 And though on marble pedestal I stand. 
 
 Where all is beautiful and all is fair — 
 Still, I may point in vain my golden hand. 
 
 Unmeaningly, except the sun is there : 
 A statue, wanting the promethean fire — 
 
 A Memnon waiting for the morning ray, 
 Ere it could yield the spirit of its lyre — 
 
 I stand, and woo the sunbeams day by day. 
 
 y{ . K 
 
52 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 
 
 Let lilies love the shade where violets dwell— 
 
 We mostly prize the beauty we must seek — 
 Let maidens veil themselves, dreading the spell 
 
 That tarnishes the lilies on the cheek ; — 
 The lands that know no sun are wrapt in snow, 
 
 No bird, no bloom, no green leaf on the tree — 
 But I wait for the sunbeams, proud to shew 
 
 The loveliness of light that falls on me. 
 
 And thus, our outward forms, though they be fair, 
 
 Except illumined by an inward light — 
 That portion of Divinity we bear — 
 
 Are hke the dial, only seen at night, 
 From which no gift or benefit we gain — 
 
 As having nothing, nothing we impart ; — 
 From which we seek intelligence in vain : 
 
 Life without spirit, body without heart. 
 
 -n K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 53 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 SUGGESTED EY READING IN PRINCE's POEMS, THAT "HE 
 LIVED FOR THE DAY ALONE." 
 
 j^ LIVE not for the day alone, 
 
 ^^ Remembering there are days to come ; 
 
 And if the sun has brightly shone, 
 
 'Tis but to cause the buds to bloom, 
 And open in the full-blown flower, 
 
 When we shall older, wiser grow. 
 For in the future every hour 
 
 Will yield the fruit that now we sow. 
 
 Sorrow may cloud the passing day, 
 
 But we should look beyond the cloud, 
 And if the sun withholds its ray. 
 
 Let not the sackcloth be the shroud. 
 The number of our days are io.'f^^ 
 
 And should the morning not be bright, 
 May we so live to find it true, 
 
 " At evening-time there shall be light !" 
 
 Who knows what shall a day bring forth ? 
 
 And time is measured, so that we 
 May know, as swiftly rolls the earth. 
 
 What precious things the moments be ! 
 Then let us for that season live 
 
 When we the talents back must pay. 
 When we the " Well done " shall receive, 
 
 Of those who live not for the day ! 
 
 ii K 
 
54 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Then let us live each day that we, 
 
 For days to come may well prepare, 
 And knowing its uncertainty, 
 
 Let us in earnestness take care 
 With good deeds so to mark the hours, 
 
 That with the day we perish not, 
 But wreathe them like undying flowers 
 
 Where they will never be forgot ! 
 
 The vineyard gate isopen wide ; 
 
 Then let us in the morning go. 
 Nor idling stand till eventide. 
 
 Our want of earnestness to shew. 
 They toil the best who earliest seek 
 
 Their labour at the earliest call ; 
 The eleventh hour on us may break. 
 
 And no inviting come at all. 
 
 Then live not for the day alone, 
 
 For there will come a reckoning day ; 
 And if the talents all are gone, 
 
 How shall we back the Master pay ? 
 As is our day so shall our strength 
 
 Fall on us like the gentle shower, 
 And, knowing its precarious length, 
 
 O let us treasure every hour ! 
 
 The world rolls onwards, as we know. 
 
 And whether we awake or sleep, 
 It is in time that we must sow 
 
 What in eternity we reap ! 
 And let us not our days enjoy. 
 
 As the best gift we can receive — 
 May we the moments so employ. 
 
 As those who would for ever live ! 
 
 •n -. _K 
 
Poems oil Various Subjects. 55 | 
 
 STANZAS FOR MUSIC. 
 
 fONSIDER well the lilies, 
 How they adorn the field ! 
 And think upon the roses, 
 
 What fragrance they do yield — 
 How softly in the evening 
 
 The dews upon them fall — 
 And then let us remember 
 The Lord hath made them all. 
 
 And if the lowly flower 
 
 Shall be the Master's care, 
 Shall we not as His creatures 
 
 His mercies also share. 
 Shall He upon the blossom 
 
 Such fostering care bestow, 
 And leave His noblest handiwork 
 
 In hopeless grief and woe ? 
 
 No ! as the dews of Hermon, 
 
 Or oil on the Saviour's head, 
 So shall His love and blessing 
 
 Around our path be shed : 
 And as the rose of Sharon, 
 
 So lovely in His sight. 
 Or lily of the valley. 
 
 He in us will delight. 
 
 -Ti : K 
 
56 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Like unto precious ointment, 
 
 So is a goodly name ; 
 Then let our lives be holy, 
 
 That when the Lord shall claim 
 The flowers of His own planting. 
 
 May we transplanted be, 
 And bloom and yield Him incense 
 
 Through all eternity. 
 
 >? - : . K 
 
Poetns on Various Subjects. 57 
 
 SONGS OF OUR EARLY DAYS. 
 
 ^ONGS of our early days ! they come 
 ^ Like long-lost children to their home, 
 Who, wandering from their homes away 
 In gloomy woods and forests grey, 
 Were lost and mourned with bitter tears. 
 And then returned in after years, 
 Relationship they claim. 
 And are they ours ? the same — 
 We cannot trust our memories^ — 
 Why do they come in this disguise ? 
 With Esau's hands and Jacob's voice ; 
 We doubt and doubt, and still rejoice. 
 
 Songs of our early days ! they bring 
 Day dreams of many a pleasant thing ; 
 What sympathies they could invoke 
 Ere time had all our harpstrings broke. 
 Bidding the sudden echoes start 
 From the deep caverns of the heart. 
 We roll the stone away. 
 Where, hid for many a day. 
 Embalmed, our joys, like mummies, lie. 
 Or icebound ship 'neath Polar sky; 
 Like doves we fly, seek rest in vain, 
 And fluttering seek the ark again. 
 
 y{ ^ i^ 
 
58 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Songs of our early days ! they call, 
 From their long sleep in memory's hall, 
 
 Forms who had shone and then passed by, 
 
 As meteors sail across the sky — 
 Whose orbits we could never trace 
 Or in the heavens find their place — 
 They in their courses stray, 
 Melodiously they play. 
 But oh ! the music of their spheres 
 Is too remote for mortal ears ; 
 
 So childhood's songs steal o'er the mind, 
 
 Like muffled bells heard on the wind. 
 
 Songs of our early days ! ye seem 
 
 The murmurings of some haunted stream, 
 
 Forcing its deep and hidden way 
 
 Through roots and rocks and dashing spray j- 
 Now sparkling in the sunbeams bright, 
 A laughing, living thing of light, 
 Singing to every stone 
 Love songs of days by-gone \ — 
 Now serenading as they pass 
 The violets hid among the grass. 
 
 Then mingHng in the deafening roar 
 
 Of waterfall, is heard no more. 
 
 y{ K 
 
X ^ 4s; 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 59 
 
 REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 tUR memories are monitors that bring 
 Forth from the dark caves of forgetfulness 
 Forms \vhich we to obhvion would fling, 
 
 Shadows whose hauntings we would fain suppress. 
 Tenacious to the heartstrings still they cling, 
 
 As ivy to the ruin ; their caress. 
 Like coiling serpents, round our vitals seem, 
 Or goblin phantoms of some fearful dream. 
 
 They may be images of murdered hours — 
 
 For men are murderers when they slaughter time — 
 That danced around us in our youthful bowers, 
 
 With seraph minstrelsy and holy chime : 
 Threw chaplets in our paths of early flowers, 
 
 That bloomed and then were blighted in their prime, 
 And wove our day dreams in Danacon rain — 
 
 The gold was tinsel, and the pleasure pain. 
 
 Time past, they say, will never more return — 
 
 Thrice happy they who live and find it so, 
 Who dream their lives away and never yearn 
 
 To call those moments back, which long ago 
 We had embalmed in memory's hallowed urn, 
 
 The tomb of all our joys, but not our woe : 
 Returning time, like meteors in the skies, I 
 
 Lightens the darkness of our memories. 
 
^ 
 
 60 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And then, what phantoms flit across the stage 
 Of our brain's theatre ; in sad array — 
 
 Pointing to pictures wrote on memory's page — 
 They come and go, like spirits in the play ; 
 
 And though to smile on us some will engage, 
 How swift the pageantry doth pass away ! 
 
 And then the curtain falls — the lights still burn — 
 Be sure the actors will again return. 
 
 They may be images of those we loved 
 
 With that wild love that mortals may forbid : 
 
 Love that to utterance was never moved — 
 Deep in the heart the secret springs were hid. 
 
 How few are they of mankind who are moved 
 To roll the stone away or move the lid 
 
 Of love's deep fountain, and its sources show- 
 Its ebbs, its risings, and its overflow ! 
 
 Why should remembrance to the mind still bring 
 
 Visions of bUss we never shall obtain, 
 Or why should we to the delusion cling 
 
 Of raising up an earthly temple vain, 
 And marbles from the mines of fancy bring 
 
 To build this Babel tower of the brain ? 
 The wages of such labour are but woe — 
 
 Hope not for heaven where thorns and thistles grow. 
 Hope is our angel, and her silvery wings 
 
 Flutter around us in despairing hours, 
 A bird of paradise that sweetly sings 
 
 Alike in summer and in wintry bowers : 
 A heavenly Samaritan that brings 
 
 Her soothing oil and on the bosom pours — 
 Sad with despair and anguish, sick with grief — 
 
 The healing medicine that brings relief. 
 
 >? K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 6i 
 
 THE COMET. 
 
 jjIpROM the eternal depths of space I come, 
 ^ Nations and kingdoms startling with affright, 
 And as I through immensity do roam, 
 
 Glaring upon the world with my red light, 
 Millions tremble at the fearful sight, 
 
 Deeming I herald forth the day of doom, 
 As on the wall the spectre hand did write. 
 
 Causing the king to tremble on his throne, 
 
 And seek who would the mystery make known. 
 
 And who are they that shall presume to read 
 The nature of my embassy, or show 
 
 Wherefore I travel with such awful speed 
 
 That all the heavens seem to burn and glow? 
 
 My mission is not to mankind below — 
 Of thrones or kings I nothing do declare. 
 
 Of pestilence and war I nothing know — 
 In what befalls mankind I have no share. 
 But onward, onward travel through the air. 
 
 I rush not forth like some wild, furious horse. 
 Spurning the bridle and the guiding rein ; 
 
 I vary not in my appointed course. 
 And in due season shall return again. 
 
 Tempests and lightnings, thunder, hail, or rain 
 Prevent me not, but, like the storm, I come 
 
 And go again, and through the unknown plain, 
 The wastes and wilderness of space, I roam, 
 A wandering world that never seems at home. 
 
M : ] ^ 
 
 62 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 
 
 And none may follow me, no ! not in thought, 
 As I sail forward through the lengthened years ; 
 
 There's none may know what changes I have wrought, 
 As I glide onward through the distant spheres, 
 
 The phantom of a planet that appears 
 
 Ghost-like and terrible, when through the night 
 
 The wise I startle, terrify the seers, — 
 
 Flaring and shining brilliantly and bright, 
 And my loose robe — ten million miles of light. 
 
 A world on fire, I wander far away 
 
 Into the wastes and wilderness of space, 
 
 Where other worlds or planets never stray ; 
 The boundaries of the universe I trace. 
 
 I travel where the light has found no place. 
 In dismal solitudes that know no sun, 
 
 With no companion world to join the race : 
 An exile from all other stars I run — 
 A pilgrim in a path which others shun. 
 
 I claim no bond or kindred with the stars, 
 But visit them, as pilgrim visits shrine ; 
 
 I've crossed the path of Mercury and Mars, 
 And have seen Venus in her glory shine. 
 
 I've seen the land that Saturn doth entwine, 
 Where scarce the sun can dart a feeble ray, 
 
 x\nd in the place where constellations join 
 In brotherhood of glory, there I stray. 
 And walk in majesty the Milky Way. 
 
 ?? ?< 
 
>i . K 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. ^^i 
 
 I know Arcturus, and have seen the place 
 
 Where Livius travels slowly round his sphere 
 With his companion star \ I've seen the race 
 
 Of all the orbs of heaven as they steer 
 Their mighty magnitudes in swift career, 
 
 Girdling the universe. I pass all these 
 As strangers in the street when I appear. 
 
 I've seen Diana with her land and seas, 
 
 And know Orion an(^Pleiades. 
 
 Systems and suns, I leave them all behind 
 As I glide onward in the ocean vast 
 
 Of dim, eternal space, and there I find 
 
 The wreck of worlds, like broken vessels cast 
 
 On some dark, sunless sea without a mast ; 
 Deserted by their pilots, who should guide 
 
 And steer them in their courses, they have passed 
 For ever from their orbits, and they ride 
 Prowless and chartless on the mighty tide. 
 
 I sail through space whereof men may not dream, 
 And find new worlds, like islands in some sea 
 
 Not visited before, where yet no gleam 
 Of light has struggled for the mastery 
 
 Of outer darkness in its last degree : 
 
 Through which dim nebulae do lonely show, 
 
 And all seem waiting for the " Let there be ;" 
 Where matter congregates and systems grow, 
 And worlds unfinished lie in embryo. 
 
)^' 
 
 64 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 H- 
 
 Thus verified in me is that true story — 
 
 Which they who will the wondrous heavens scan 
 
 May see therein what does declare His glory 
 Who marked the orbits and who drew the plan, 
 
 And meted out the heavens with a span, 
 
 And guides and governs all that He hath wrought 
 
 Regarding ever frail and feeble man — 
 
 Declaring still that wisdom must be sought, 
 And what its value is when sold and bought. 
 
 -n- 
 
 ^ 
 
Poe7]is on Various Subjects. 65 
 
 ON FINDING THE BODY OF A FEMALE IN 
 MALE ATTIRE ON THE BATTLE FIELD. 
 
 ^)C^7^HEN morn dawned on the battle field, 
 
 ■^^cJ Scaring the mists away, 
 Gilding the warrior's battered shield, 
 
 And lance, and helmet gay. 
 The clash of steel, the cannon's roar. 
 
 The din of war was gone, 
 The shout of victory was o'er, 
 
 Stifled was every moan. 
 
 Amidst the carnage fierce and dread. 
 
 Which there had raged around, 
 The mangled corpses of the dead 
 
 Were scattered on the ground ; 
 The gory plumes, the sabre broke, 
 
 The helmet clove in twain, 
 Here, there, on every side bespoke 
 
 The valour of the slain. 
 
 When to inter the fallen brave 
 
 The bands of soldiers came. 
 Heroes were to the damp, cold grave 
 
 Consigned, without a name. 
 None thought upon the homes of those 
 
 Who home no more would see, 
 There they lay mingled, friends and foes, 
 
 From all distinction free. 
 
 %- „^ )?< 
 
66 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 'Midst slaughtered heaps of heroes, where 
 
 Had raged the deadHest fight, 
 Was found a maid, with blood-stained hair, 
 
 Girt with the cuirass bright. 
 A gash was on her snowy breast, 
 
 Which, unbound, met the view ; 
 Her flowing ringlets all untresst, 
 
 With blood were clotted through. 
 
 She followed to the battle field 
 
 Her lover, bold and brave, 
 And for his love the lance did wield. 
 
 And with him found a grave. 
 Such is the love of woman — pure, 
 
 Such dangers will it prove, 
 Dangers and death it will endure. 
 
 But what are these to love ? 
 
 The peasant maids still show her grave. 
 
 Hard by the forest's verge, 
 Where drooping beeches gently wave, 
 
 The breezes chant her dirge. 
 And o'er the rude unsculptured stone 
 
 Mosses and lichens creep, 
 Which mark the spot where, all alone, 
 
 The soldier-maid doth sleep. 
 
 1 
 
M . K 
 
 Foenis on Various Subjects. 67 
 
 LINES TO INEZ ISABEL DE COURSEY. 
 
 LOVELY maid ! 
 When thou shalt count the varied offerings meet, 
 That men have laid, 
 A tribute of the heart, low at thy feet, 
 Think of them but as sweets unto the sweet. 
 
 ' And search aright, 
 
 Around the treasure-house, and thou shalt find 
 
 A lowly mite, 
 Placed there by one, the least among his kind, 
 But who to love thee most^ was most inclined. 
 
 And in the throng 
 Of those who pay their vows, let me be found. 
 
 Stealing among 
 The multitude, who at thy shrine abound. 
 Like one who ventures on forbidden ground. 
 
 Who, then, shall count 
 The hearts, as jewels, offered unto thee. 
 
 In the amount ? 
 Let not one humble pearl forgotten be. 
 But look on //. and then remember me. 
 
 f{ . if^ 
 
^ ^. . ^ 
 
 68 Poems on VarioiLs Subjects. 
 
 ON A DYING CHILD SINGING A HYMN. 
 
 A SCENE IN A HOSPITAL. 
 
 """^oOW calm and smooth the sea 
 
 Seems, sleeping in the sun, 
 How motionless across the bay — 
 No ripple or wave is seen to play, 
 Lulled to repose, it seems to be 
 A thing whose work is done. 
 
 'Tis all deceit and guile, 
 
 Deep in its caverned breast, 
 The victims of its vengeance sleep. 
 And dead men's bones lie heap on heap, 
 And wrecks in many a slimy pile 
 
 Are with the seaweeds dressed. 
 
 Deceived with gloss and glare. 
 
 We through the city stray, 
 The gilded coach glides stately by. 
 And while they roll in luxury 
 How little they dream of the misery there. 
 
 Or the arrow that flies by day. 
 
 Gaze on yon stately pile, 
 
 With column-guarded door, 
 Disease and all her ghastly train. 
 With fevers, wounds, and deadly pain. 
 And few again may smile 
 
 Whom fate may there immure. 
 
 i^ — -?^ 
 
M ', , K 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 69 
 
 Let those who vainly dream, 
 
 In hfe's gay morning bloom, 
 That evening shades are far away, 
 And no dark cloud will mar their day, 
 Gaze here, where death's white team 
 
 Lies waiting in the gloom. 
 
 Arranged on every side 
 
 Plague-smitten victims lie. 
 The plaintive wail and feeble moan, 
 With here and there a hollow groan, 
 And eyelids open wide, 
 
 Yet know not it is day 
 
 Some, quietly resigned, 
 
 Pour out their feeble prayer, 
 And look to heaven with fixed eye, 
 And heeding not the passers-by ; 
 Some murmured and repined, 
 
 And some did curse and swear. 
 
 Upon a narrow bed 
 
 A pale, wan child there lay, 
 The glaze of death was on her eye, 
 Like morning mists on summer sky ; 
 And someone careless said — 
 
 She would not live the day. 
 
 Sweet resignation shone, 
 
 Serene, and deep, and mild ; 
 Rays of unearthly joys were shed, 
 
 X ^ K 
 
70 Poems on Various Subjects. \ 
 
 Like hope's bright halo, round her head, 
 Friendless, but not alone, 
 
 In death was that sweet child. 
 
 Behind the murky cloud 
 
 The glorious sun will shine. 
 So in the dark abode of death 
 Some yielded up the feeble breath. 
 And their sure hope around, 
 
 Their light was light divine. 
 
 A faint-toned hymn arose, " . 
 
 Like distant angel's song. 
 And sweetly there the child did pour. 
 As dews fall on the opening flower, 
 Her joy to join with those, 
 
 The holy, holy throng. 
 
 Thus in the desert wide. 
 
 Some fragrant flower may spring, 
 
 As in the hamlet far away, 
 
 On calm and holy Sabbath Day, 
 
 As by the breezes glide, 
 
 How sweet the bells do ring. 
 
 Give me that holy power 
 
 That did this child sustain, 
 And smoothed with never-dying hope, 
 The road in which we blindly grope, 
 And in my final hour 
 
 May such deep joy remain. 
 
 i^ ^ ]f< 
 
M : hi. 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 71 
 
 Angels of grace and light, 
 
 In death's dark, awful hour, 
 Incense on heaven's altars laid. 
 The songs and sighs of that sweet maid — 
 Hope's dew-drops glittering bright, 
 
 Revived the dying flower. 
 
 Where is thy sting, O Death ? 
 
 When all is joy and bliss ; 
 The Christian's hope our sun and shield, 
 O, who would murmur thus to yield 
 Our frail and fleeting breath, 
 
 For ecstasy like this ? 
 
 "Ti K 
 
^ . . . ^ 
 
 72 ■ ' Poems 071 Varzoiis Subjects. 
 
 THE ALTERED ONE. 
 
 ^W SAW her, but she was no more 
 
 ^ The lovely thing I once had found her, 
 The secret hidden grief she bore, 
 
 Its withering blight had cast around her ; 
 Still she an angel seemed, for grief 
 
 Lends us the greatest charms we borrow, 
 And beauty is of beauty chief. 
 
 When shadowed by the clouds of sorrow. 
 
 The lustre of her eye was fled, 
 
 The eye that once with light was beaming, 
 And on their orbs was overspread 
 
 A rooted melancholy feeling. 
 It was the gaze of one whose mind 
 
 Seemed always absent from the vision — 
 Of one who saw, yet still w^as blind. 
 
 Dark with the day-dreams of delusion. 
 
 Then she would sw^eetly smile, and seemed 
 
 Fired with some quick electric gladness ; 
 'Twas but the flash of joy that gleamed 
 
 Between the parted clouds of madness ; 
 Yet still the transient smile w^as sweet. 
 
 Like maids who sleep, and dream in heaven 
 They with those sister-spirits meet 
 
 To whom their youthful love was given. 
 
:5i ] K 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 73 
 
 But ah ! the smile was not her own, 
 
 But was from frenzy's phantoms borrowed, 
 The heat-engendered joy of one 
 
 Whose heart in loneliness had sorrowed. 
 A gleam of sunshine far away. 
 
 When wintry storms abroad are flying ; 
 Or sudden blaze that oft will play. 
 
 Of some dim flickering taper dying. 
 She called me by my name, her voice 
 
 Like long-forgotten music faltered, 
 That did our childhood's heart rejoice. 
 
 But which in after years seem'd altered. 
 'Twas not the voice that once so clear. 
 
 Poured on our souls those tones enchanting : 
 Morsels of melody were there, 
 
 And, like a requiem, those were chanted. 
 
 Gazing, she stood ! the mists of death 
 
 About her frenzied features hovered, 
 As hills, when purple with the heath, 
 
 With sudden storms of snow are covered. 
 She, like a marble image stood, 
 
 The gleaming eye with fever burning, 
 And madness in its meekest mood, 
 
 With darkening shadows was returning. 
 
 I knew the cause ! but none may deem 
 
 In love the maiden had been slighted ; 
 The sunshine of life's golden dream, 
 
 With darker shadows was benighted. 
 O, why on earth should dwell the power 
 
 That changes our bright hopes to sadness, 
 And gives creation's fairest flower 
 
 An offering at the shrine of madness. 
 
74 Poems on Va7't02is Subjects. 
 
 ON HEARING A YOUNG LADY SING "THE 
 ANGEL'S WHISPER." 
 
 ^ING ever to me, maiden, that whispering angel's 
 
 theme, 
 And thou shalt be the angel of whom I love to dream, 
 When dreaming of life's morning, when the world and 
 
 we were young, 
 Ere blighted hopes had chill'd the heart, and silenced 
 
 every song ; 
 It calls to life the past again, but teaches us how vain 
 It is to sigh for pleasures fled, no more to come again. 
 But "Peace, be still," it whispers to the stormy, troubled 
 
 breast. 
 And bids the waves of dark despair sink silently to rest. 
 
 O ! I could wander far away from all mankind remote. 
 In forests dark and gloomy woods, to listen to the note. 
 And where half-hidden rivulets their waters roll along, 
 How like sweet hymns from Paradise would seem the 
 
 holy song ; 
 Far from the haunts of worldly men fair spirits would 
 
 refrain. 
 From their sweet works of charity, to listen to the strain, 
 Forgetful of their mercy work, the angels bright and fair. 
 May think a new creation found, and long to tarry there. 
 
 y{ )s; 
 
>i' 
 
 Poems oil Various Subjects. 
 
 K 
 
 75 
 
 'Tis said that guardian angels, invisible, do keep 
 A faithful watch o'er all our ways, when waking or asleep ; 
 But all are not invisible, for to our wondering sight, 
 Fair angels come in woman's form, and shed a holy light 
 Around the darkness of our path, with love's soft beaming 
 
 eyes. 
 And when from sweet unsullied lips those whispers soft 
 
 arise, 
 Whisperings which, like the turtle's voice, to lonely hearts 
 
 will prove 
 Songs of the better country, and of the better love. 
 
 y^. 
 
 K 
 
:5^" K 
 
 76 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 FALSE DELICACY. 
 
 J©jH why should gentle woman be forbid to speak of 
 
 ^^ love, 
 
 Or whisper of those hallowed joys that come down from 
 
 above ? 
 When angels, in their purity, their holy love make known. 
 Oh, why should woman's buried love lie in the heart 
 
 alone ? 
 Among the vilest things on earth there may communion 
 
 be. 
 There may be fellowship in death, there may be unity; 
 All atoms have affinity, the loadstone draws the steel, 
 Then why should woman feel a love she never dare 
 
 reveal ? 
 
 Each planet in the firmament is bridled in its sphere. 
 And governed by the influence of planets far and near ; 
 And each upon its satellite may throw sustaining light : 
 The sun shines on the world by day, and on the moon 
 
 by night. 
 Though fed with pure and holy fire a woman's love must 
 
 burn. 
 Like stars remote in far off space, which we may not 
 
 discern. 
 Its light may never reach our path, but still it shines 
 
 alone, 
 And lightens up the darkness in a heaven of its own. 
 
 yi : K 
 
M ] ': K 
 
 Poems oil Various Subjects. 77 
 
 Our hearts are filled with rapture when from the teeming 
 
 earth, 
 The early blossoms of the spring come one by one to 
 
 birth, 
 We point to the first primrose that peeps from the bank 
 
 side, 
 The first fair modest daisy is pointed to with pride. 
 But oh ! the love in woman's heart, how few there be 
 
 that know 
 How its first swelling buds expand and how its lilies blow. 
 And those unfolding blossoms sweet, that round our path 
 
 should bloom. 
 Are only seen as withered wreaths we cast upon the 
 
 tomb. 
 
 Rich gems of art and nature in cabinets we stow. 
 And stones, and shells, and medals rare we place them 
 
 row by row, 
 And sculptured busts of marble white we place them in 
 ! the hall, 
 
 Vandykes and bright Claude Lorraines we hang them 
 
 on the wall, 
 But who shall count the treasures that never see the light. 
 Or num.ber those fair rubies, those pearls and jewels bright 
 That lie concealed in woman's heart? like buried treasure 
 
 rare, 
 
 i We pass deep hidden in the earth, not knowing it is there. 
 
 i 
 
 ?? IF?; 
 
:^' 
 
 78 
 
 Poems on Vaj'ious Subjects. 
 
 li. 
 
 'Tis said, where the deep Ganges its waters roll along ' 
 The widow lights her funeral pile and chants her own 
 
 death-song, 
 And witnesses applaud the deed, and Brahmins testify 
 How ardent is the love of those who thus will dare to die. 
 But who shall chronicle the deed, where, hid from mortal 
 
 eyes. 
 Fair woman offers up her heart a secret sacrifice, 
 With fires that only inward burn, from all the world 
 
 unseen, 
 That leaves but ashes in the heart, to tell where it has 
 
 been ? 
 
 ^- 
 
 _..___?:: 
 
; Poems on Various Subjects. 79 
 
 THINGS ARE NOT ALWAYS WHAT THEY 
 SEEM. 
 
 JlJl^IGHT eyes may throw their glances round, 
 ■^5=^ Where beats the care-worn, heavy heart, 
 And mirth and laughter may abound 
 
 Where unseen tears will often start, 
 And friends delighted see us smile, 
 
 Like early morning's ruddy gleam, 
 That only blushes to beguile : 
 
 Things are not always what they seem. 
 
 And could we draw the veil aside 
 
 That hides from us reality, 
 A blighted desert, stretching wide. 
 
 The flowery world would seem to be ; 
 Deceiving, we go on deceived. 
 
 And smoothly sailing down the stream. 
 Show lights that should not be believed : 
 
 We are not always what we seem. 
 
 The closest bonds will soonest break, 
 
 The loudest vows may soonest fail ; 
 And when for kindred hearts we seek. 
 
 To find them we shall surely fail : 
 Soon, soon our hopes and loves are past. 
 
 Like slumber's unremembered dream. 
 And we awake to truth at last — 
 
 Men are not always what they seem. 
 
 ^ . ^ 
 
M 
 
 80 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 hc 
 
 And when we gaze in beauty's eyes, 
 
 Should beauty from the glance retire, 
 Believe them not when they despise — 
 
 The coldest look may hide the fire ; 
 Though tutored coyness may repel, 
 
 (Love always has some little scheme) 
 Still learn a welcome in farewell : 
 
 Maids are not always what they seem. 
 
 :3? 
 
 K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 8i 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 5iPHE night is calm, and I will go 
 ^ Beside yon gushing waterfall, 
 Where headlong to the pool below 
 
 The foamy waters ceaseless brawl. 
 Unheard, unseen, there I may weep, 
 
 As weei^s the dew for parting day. 
 While those, perhaps, are fast asleep. 
 
 That would have dried those tears away. 
 
 Oft in the spirit-moving hour. 
 
 When twilight spreads her pinions brown. 
 Have I sought out this shady bower, 
 
 And seen the "crimson sun go down ; 
 And felt that soothing influence steal, 
 
 (That all have felt at close of day) 
 When darkening shadows do conceal. 
 
 And blend the whole in vapoury grey. 
 
 The moon has silvered o'er the stream, 
 
 How calm her beams sleep on its breast I 
 Like smiles of joy that falsely gleam 
 
 Upon the face, while still no rest 
 The broken, care-worn heart may know, 
 
 And like the moonbeams on the waves. 
 Serene and calm, while far below 
 
 Are stones and wrecks, and rocks and caves. 
 
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^ _ ^ 
 
 82 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Sweet soothing hour to lull the soul 
 
 To visions of that happy shore, 
 Where kindred spirits will console 
 
 The heart whose yearnings will be o'er; 
 And here when foaming waters fall, 
 
 From block to block, all night, all day, 
 Strange sounds and voices seem to call — 
 
 " Come with us to our rest away." 
 
 If spirits that have left their clay. 
 
 And issued from their prisons forth. 
 Are still permitted for to stray, 
 
 And haunt the lovely spots of earth. 
 To purify and to refine 
 
 Themselves for some more glorious sphere. 
 Where could they find a fairer shrine 
 
 To purify themselves, than here ? 
 
 How oft I sat, in listening mood, 
 
 x\nd thought, or fancied I could hear. 
 From out the hollow-sounding flood. 
 
 Echoes of voices floating near ; 
 Then lost or smothered in the moan 
 
 Of foamy waters far below, 
 Remembered voices once well known, 
 
 Now hushed and silent long ago. 
 
 Soft whisperings, like the voice of those 
 
 Aroused from their eternal rest. 
 Awakened from that sweet repose— 
 
 The deep, calm slumber of the blest. 
 
 '7i k 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. ^2> 
 
 Voices of those who hover round, 
 
 Fair guardians of our destiny, 
 Perchance have thought this hallowed ground 
 
 A fitting place to call on me. 
 
 Call on ! the voice is not of earth, 
 
 Still I can listen without dread ; 
 The voice that once gave music birth, 
 
 And melodies in sorrow shed, 
 In dying murmurs linger still. 
 
 Like some far distant funeral bell, 
 And rock, and waterfall, and rill, 
 
 Are breathing still the last farewell. 
 
 The last farewell ! but not the last 
 
 Of holy words that we shall speak. 
 For when this dreaiil of life is past. 
 
 And morning on our hopes shall break. 
 The morning that shall know no night, 
 
 On shores unsullied with a tear. 
 Then with what lasting, deep delight. 
 
 Whisperings of welcome we shall hear. 
 
 Sweeter than those rich tones, which oft 
 
 Could soothe our sadness and our woe. 
 Falling around like dew-drops soft, 
 
 When violets breathe and roses blow ; 
 And if such joy and ecstasy 
 
 Could rise, like incense, with thy breath, 
 How lovely will the music be 
 
 That shall no more be hushed in death. 
 
 '-T{ K 
 
^ _ -^ 
 
 84 Poems on Va7'iotis Stihjects. 
 
 ALONE ! ALONE ! 
 
 ^"OACING the desert of the world alone, 
 ■^ Impetuously in:ipelled to seek for rest, 
 Like some misguided bird that forth has flown. 
 
 And baffled, seeks in vain its nest. 
 Outpouring in strange lands its stranger song, 
 
 To stranger hearts, who wonder at the sound, 
 But scarce enquire to whom such notes belong ; 
 
 Thus wandering, seeking that which is not found, 
 Hears daily but the startling scarer's cry, 
 From tree to tree, and rock to rock doth fly — 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 Cast like a sealed vial on the sea. 
 
 That cannot sink, but borne by every wave, 
 (Bearing within a hidden mystery) 
 
 Is cast upon the beach where breakers rave. 
 O'er sunlit caverns where the mermaids dwell. 
 
 And o'er the oozy beds where sailors sleep ; 
 Then on the strand, then on the slick. 
 
 To be again borne outwards on the deep, 
 Rare, coiled, and spiral shells that few have seen, 
 And then cast forth on ocean desert green. 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 Alone I alone ! 
 In the scorched desert where the mirage gleams. 
 Baffling the hopes of those who yearn to die ; 
 Who in their fevered sleep have cheating dreams 
 
 >?____ iK 
 
Poems on Va?'ious Subjects. 85 
 
 Of wells and brooks, and hear the melody 
 Of waterfalls and fountains, and do rise 
 
 Up from that troubled sleep that yields no rest, 
 And o'er the desert strains his bloodless eyes, 
 
 The Angel of Deliverance in quest, 
 And finds him not ; forward, without a sound, 
 He wanders o'er what seems accursed ground. 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 In those dark chasms where the mountain peak — 
 
 Divorced, and sundered from its fellow — seems 
 So horribly still we scarce dare speak ; 
 
 No sound, save when the swooping eagle screams. 
 Or from the precipice when fragments fall. 
 
 Bounding and leaping forward to the plain. 
 Echoing like mimic thunder o'er the hall, 
 
 wScooped by the frost, the earthquake, and the rain. 
 Where giants' sepulchres seem strewed around. 
 And ancient heroes sleep in peace profound. 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 Where the gay streaks of ever-smiling flowers 
 
 Seem candidates for other smiles than those 
 Given in Eden-stillness of his bowers 
 
 By him who holds communion with the rose, 
 Whose sister is the lily, and whose friends 
 
 Are those fair virgin blossoms which combine 
 To form the garland which the mountain sends 
 
 Around his peaceful, silent hours to twine ; 
 Who tells his beads with blossoms, and whose prayer 
 Uprises through the violet-scented air 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 ?? K 
 
M K 
 
 86 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 With those dark forest arches overhead, 
 
 A leafy wilderness of welcome shade, 
 Where sunbeams are as strangers, there to tread. 
 
 Whose trees seem planted when the w^orld was made, 
 Strange mighty trees, around whose tortuous stems, 
 
 P'estoons of wonderous draperies are hung. 
 Whose flowers are moths and lizards : dazzling gems 
 
 And jewels bright, by forest spirits strung. 
 Topaz and amethyst, and emerald green. 
 Blooming and dying where no man is seen. 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 Where the great city rolls its endless throng 
 Of surging thousands — stranger unto all, 
 Where none may ask to whom we do belong. 
 
 And no familiar voice on us to call. 
 A social wilderness, where every heart 
 
 Beats but for its possessor, living stones ! 
 Though congregated, living each apart. 
 
 We walk as through the valley of the bones. 
 Thousands of human forms around are spread 
 But we pass through this city of the dead 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 Though destitute of all those hallowed ties 
 
 That bind and fetter us to mortal forms. 
 Yet surely not alone, if we our eyes 
 
 Would lift, and see the birthplace of the storms. 
 The rain drops have a father, and the dew 
 
 ^ \ K 
 
Poems on Vai'ioiis Subjects. 87 
 
 Engenders not itself but is outshed 
 By Him who treasures up our tears, and who 
 
 Numbers the hairs that ornament our head : 
 And in hfe's desert, which we all must cross, 
 The dreariest waste may yield the greenest moss 
 Growing alone. 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 We thirst, like Ishmael in the wilderness, 
 
 But not without an angel, who unseen, 
 Shall guide us to the fountain, there to bless 
 
 The lonely water, with its margin green, 
 And bless the Giver, whom we rashly deem 
 
 Furthest away when haply very near, 
 Who, when abandoned by the world we seem. 
 
 Will in the desert of the heart appear. 
 Like palm trees pointing where the waters glide, 
 Found the7'e, when lost to all the world beside 
 We move alone. 
 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 He has most company who most can steal 
 
 From man or womankind to dwell apart ; 
 God in the desert will Himself reveal, 
 
 And there write on the tables of the heart 
 His testimonies, which they scarce may read 
 
 Who have not heard His thunder in the cloud, 
 And marvel at the strangeness of his creed, 
 
 Who neither dwells nor mingles with the crowd, 
 In life unheeded and in death unknown. 
 Who passes on his pilgrimage alone — 
 Alone ! alone ! 
 
 ''^ : K 
 
I 88 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 AUTUMN EVENINGS. 
 
 .^iF LIKE each season of the varying year, 
 ^ For every day brings something to delight, 
 Mostly to those who have a conscience clear, 
 
 And feel the evidence the heart is right. 
 For every day brings pleasure unto those — 
 
 Nor shall they of the evil days complain 
 Who can review their lives with calm repose, 
 
 And wish to do what they have done again. 
 
 I like the evenings when the softened sun 
 
 But glows like blushes on a maiden's cheek. 
 And we his burning eye no longer shun, 
 
 But court his beams, as doting lovers seek 
 The sunshine of the heart from those they love, 
 
 When days are getting short, and nights grow long, 
 And robins haunt the door, only the dove 
 
 Pours from the neighbouring wood its melancholy 
 song. 
 
 Spring came and stole upon us as a thief, 
 
 With noiseless steps, when we were not aware, 
 Though we had w^arning, when the hawthorn leaf 
 
 Told us for such a visit to prepare. 
 She came and went, how soon she went away ! 
 
 And dropped her daisies as she stole along — 
 A gentle thief that was afraid to stay, 
 
 And hid herself the spring-time trees among. 
 
 i?? ^ -"K 
 
:^ ^ — K 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 89 
 
 And summer came : we saw the pregnant earth 
 
 Bring forth by handfuls. Lovely things were born, 
 And there was music heard at each new birth ; 
 
 And then we saw the farmer's pale green corn | 
 
 Change, first to yellow then to shaded gold, ! 
 
 And fruits grew large and coloured on the spray. 
 ,The year had grown to manhood, growing old, ; 
 
 And then the panorama passed away. 
 And gipsy autumn came, with sunburnt cheek, | 
 
 Gathering her berries in the briary lane, | 
 
 Rambling the meadows round her spoil to seek, | 
 
 Roaming the fields now destitute of grain. 1 
 
 The swallows now on emigration bent, | 
 
 Sit twittering on the housetops day by day, 
 Assembled in a kind of parliament, ' \ 
 
 To plan the journey and to fix the day. j 
 
 And they are gone, and our tall chestnut trees I 
 
 Have shed their amber showers in the street, ' i 
 
 Whirling and waltzing round with every breeze : 
 
 x^nd playful children with their tiny feet 
 
 Wade through them ankle deep, with rattling noise. 
 Or gather them in heaps, as it may be. 
 
 Which laughing girls, and shouting boisterous boys, 
 J Will scatter all abroad, with wicked glee. | 
 
 The withered leaves, the ashes of the year, 
 
 Falling like handfuls, cast upon the dead 
 Or funeral earth, we cast upon the bier 
 
 Of those we love, when "dust to dust " is said. | 
 
 So perish men ! Like trees we shed our leaf. 
 
 And some ere scarce unfolded they have been. 
 Some in the spring, and some in summer brief, 
 
 And some remain throughout the winter green. 
 
 ■^ ^_R 
 
90 Poems on Vaj'tous Subjects. 
 
 I love the autumn evenings ! when the blaze 
 
 Flickers like twilight spirits round the hall, 
 And lightens up the eyes that seem to gaze, 
 
 And frown from those old pictures on the wall ; 
 And then the lamp is brought, whose softened glare 
 
 Bathes all the old dark oak with liquid light, 
 And then the comfort of the old arm chair, 
 
 To sit therein and read, and think, and write. 
 Calm autumn evenings ! when the funeral knell 
 
 Of the dead summer murmurs through the trees. 
 But let there be no mourning ; it were well 
 
 Were life composed of periods such as these, 
 Wherein we look back on the moments fled 
 
 As on the flowers that wither on the plain, 
 And then to know, though all around seems dead. 
 
 Spring time and summer time will come again. 
 And flowers will bloom again, but there are those 
 
 That spring nor summer time again -will yield ; 
 We saw them beautiful as Sharon's rose. 
 
 They were to us the lilies of the field. 
 We saw them in the morning blooming fair. 
 
 And missed them in the evening shadows grey, 
 And when that we had sought them everywhere, 
 
 We found they from the earth had passed away. 
 
 But if in autumn-tide we think how fair 
 
 And beautiful the summer blooms have been, 
 And if in sweet spring-time, beyond compare. 
 
 Lovely we saw the budding hawthorn green ; 
 If we remember how each leafing tree 
 
 And twisting shrub came out, and played their part. 
 How doubly precious must the memory be [heart ! 
 
 Of those who wreathed their garlands round the 
 
 7i R 
 
>i ' ~~' ^ 
 
 Poems on Varioics Subjects. 91 
 
 The leaves of autumn ! beautiful in death, 
 
 What ever-changing glories they unfold, 
 As when the expiring dolphin yields its breath 
 
 And dies in red, vermilHon, and gold ; 
 Dies as the great shall die, who, as the sun 
 
 That sinks to rest with purple curtains spread. 
 So shall the perfect, when their race is run. 
 
 Die with a glory wreathed around their head. 
 
 7i ^ IFs: 
 
>s ^ — : ; r i^ 
 
 92 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 
 
 DECEPTION. 
 
 ^^LL is not gold that shineth, 
 ^^ Bright though its lustre be, 
 But as the ivy twineth 
 
 Around the blighted tree, 
 So smiles like jewels brighten, 
 
 That round our brows we wreathe, 
 And eyes with joys may lighten, 
 
 When all is cold beneath. 
 
 Sweet smiles may seem to gladden 
 
 When o'er fair faces thrown, 
 Hiding the cares that sadden, 
 
 And griefs that few will own ; 
 For smiles too oft are beaming 
 
 Like sunshine on a cloud. 
 Or hke the silver seaming 
 
 That borders round a shroud. 
 
 How sweet the bells are pealing. 
 
 Where, clad in fair array. 
 Before the altar kneeling 
 
 To give their hearts away. 
 Two hands are joined to prpiTer 
 
 Each unto each their plight. 
 And each to each do offer 
 
 What never may unite. 
 
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X hi. 
 
 Poems Oil Various Subjects. 93 
 
 In vain the golden token 
 
 Is placed on finger small, 
 And loving words are spoken, 
 
 When there's no love at all ; 
 In vain are fond caresses. 
 
 And mother's kisses prest, 
 In vain the father blesses. 
 
 For they shall not be blessed. 
 
 How can there be communion, 
 
 When hands alone do join ? 
 And how can there be union 
 
 Where hearts may never twine ? 
 Bright gold will not bring pleasure, 
 
 Though wrote in crowns it be ; 
 And jewels are but treasure 
 
 That gild our misery. 
 
 O could men read our feelings. 
 
 As they may read our looks. 
 There would be strange revealings, 
 
 And men would write strange books, 
 And bring to light strange mysteries 
 
 That we would fain conceal. 
 And publish those heart histories 
 
 The tongue may not reveal. 
 
 Thus we go on beguiling 
 
 Ourselves and all around ; 
 We see the landscape smiling. 
 
 And fair green turf abound, 
 
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>$ 
 
 94 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
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 But there are rough, rude places, 
 That come not in our way ! 
 
 And we discern no traces 
 Of pits, and ponds, and clay. 
 
 'Twas thus in the beginning, 
 
 As when in Eden fair 
 First came the curse of sinning, 
 
 And joy became despair. 
 And round about the bowers 
 
 Where we should yet have been. 
 But wending through the flowers, 
 
 The serpent's trail was seen. 
 
 y[- 
 
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Poems on Various Subjects. 95 
 
 DAY SPIRITS. 
 
 QT in the stillness of the night 
 
 Spirits and phantoms visit me, ' 
 
 Not in the drowsy, dim twiUght 
 
 When shadows darken 'neath the tree ; 
 Nor when the flood of moonhght streams 
 
 Through broken arch of abbey wall, 
 Where, blending with the yellow beams, 
 
 The ivy's chequered shadows fall. 
 I fear not in those hours to rove, 
 
 I dread no ghostly company ; 
 Their fellowship I seek and love. 
 
 But in the night they seek not me. 
 
 Not on the blighted barren heath, 
 
 Where once stood high the murderer's post, 
 I feel no evil there or scathe — 
 
 I fear no wandering midnight ghost. 
 I never find my flesh to creep 
 
 In that dark glen, without a sound. 
 Wherein the pool, so blue and deep, 
 
 The fair maid from the hall was drowned. 
 The owl may shriek at close of day 
 
 So startling from the phantom tree — 
 Not in the twilight shadows grey 
 
 Will ghosts or phantoms visit me. 
 
 i^ K 
 
96 Poems oil Various Subjects. 
 
 Yet, still, I never am alone — 
 
 Though I may roam where few may stray — 
 I always hear the dying moan 
 
 Of spirit harps that round me play ; 
 They sing to me in noontide hour, 
 
 Where waters whisper down the rill. 
 And breathe their love to the lone flower 
 
 That blooms where clouds rest on the hill ; 
 And where the wild thyme decks the ground — 
 
 Well known to every wandering bee — 
 There, in the solitude profound. 
 
 The mountain spirits talk with me. 
 
 Where brambles meet and briers court, 
 
 Within the broken castle tower, 
 And high up in the mouldering wall 
 
 Of olden ruin springs the flower, 
 Blooming with a glory all its own, 
 
 Unrivalled in the gay parterre : 
 And where the sun has never shone. 
 
 Amid the broken arches bare. 
 Where midnight gloom at noon is spread. 
 
 And no bird warbles there with glee — 
 There, where the timid may not tread, 
 
 P'air, gentle spirits walk w^ith me. 
 
 Diffused throughout the universe, 
 
 These spirits move in every place, 
 Ere half-formed worlds have come to birth 
 
 Or started on their heavenly race ; 
 Or where the chained-up fires sleep, 
 
 Dead seas of molten lava flow, 
 
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Poems on Various Subjects. 97 
 
 Awaiting but the call to leap 
 
 Upwards to-day and turn to glow 
 
 The heavens above with lurid glare, 
 And pour dark ashes o'er the sea — 
 
 The spirits do themselves declare, 
 And speak in dreadful voice to me. 
 
 Not in the night ! Not in the night ! 
 
 At morning, noon, and every hour 
 I meet with these fair spirits bright ; 
 
 They lie concealed in every flower 
 That love on earth's cold bosom flings. 
 
 Flowers are the fairest gift of love. 
 And all the leaves are spirit wings 
 
 That flutter round the dove 
 That comes and drops down at our feet, 
 
 The branch plucked from the peaceful tree- 
 In all I hear, or see, or meet, 
 
 Fair spirits may companions be. 
 
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 98 Poems 071 Various Subjects. \ 
 
 THE VOICE OF THE TURTLE IS HEARD IN 
 OUR LAND, AND THE TIME OF SINGING 
 OF BIRDS IS COME." 
 
 fIS lovely in the spring-time of the year 
 To see the buds expand, the leaves unfold, 
 To mark each day the varied tints appear, 
 
 Like mummies with their bandages unrolled, 
 With tints more varied than was ever told 
 
 On glowing canvas, or creative loom ; 
 And bush, and tree, and forest monarch old. 
 Like Lazarus has come forth from the tomb, 
 And throw their grave clothes by, and robe themselves 
 in bloom. 
 
 First startles into life the slumbering thorn, 
 Sprinkled with bursting buds of softest green. 
 
 So suddenly, the naked beech at morn. 
 At eventide is clothed with richest sheen, 
 
 The broken light scarce finds its way between, 
 And new-born shadows wonder at their birth ; 
 
 Beneath the pilewarts (wishful to be seen), 
 
 Like stars of burnished gold come peeping forth, 
 And daisies infinite, bedeck the teeming earth. 
 
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Poems oil Various Subjects. 99 
 
 There is a change in every fleeting hour, 
 
 Life is seen struggling for the mastery 
 With death-like sleep, and every tree and flower 
 
 Seems gifted with a will that would be free ; 
 Or banded in a deep conspiracy. 
 
 To tear the snow-white flag of winter down. 
 And spread abroad in open mutiny 
 
 Ten thousand verdant banners of their own, 
 
 And, rebel-like, expel the ice king from his throne. 
 
 And wide and wider the infection spreads, 
 
 And to the rebel standard day by day 
 J The larch moves forward, and the chestnut leads 
 
 Their eager company in fair array. 
 And how they mock at those who seem to stay : 
 
 The oak, and ash, and trembling poplar pale. 
 What daily taunts of " Cowards come away ! 
 
 Our cause is good, we surely shall prevail. 
 
 Behold our armies spread on every hill and dale." 
 
 And those in music floating round and round. 
 The drone of beetles and the hum of bees ; 
 
 There is a thrill of happiness profound 
 
 In all the woodlands, where the laughing trees 
 
 Mock at our sadness. Every breath and breeze 
 Flows like the tide upon some lonely shore, 
 
 Strewed with fair shells that cannot fail to please, 
 Within whose spiral folds the ocean roars, 
 Like music heard in dreams falls whispering evermore. 
 
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^ ' ■ — J^ 
 
 loo Poems on Various Sithjects. 
 
 As children fair go hand in hand to play, 
 
 , Among the stones the clearer streamlets run, 
 And as they saunter merrily away, 
 
 They sing for joy that winter's work is done ; 
 Or tell sweet tales, how on a bank alone 
 
 The early primrose pale had dared to peep, 
 Blushing in virgin modesty unknown, 
 
 Like some fair spirit startled from its sleep, 
 
 Woke by the water's voice, seems half inclined to weep. 
 
 And need we ask, who bids them all rejoice ? 
 
 Who clothes the valley and adorns the hills ? 
 Who gives the warbling bird its silvery voice, 
 
 And brings forth music from a thousand rills ? 
 These neither have solicitude or wills. 
 
 But only do the bidding of that Power 
 Whose spirit breathes on all things, while it fills 
 
 The burning sun with heat, and streaks the flower. 
 
 And guards with jealous care these children of an hour. 
 
 O startling voice to hear ! the cuckoo's note 
 
 Comes indistinctly from the woodlands grey, 
 Now heard more audibly, it seems to float. 
 
 Welcome as voices heard at sea away. 
 When from his lofty watch, day after day. 
 
 The seaman sees at last strange land arise, 
 The welcome news brings forth the loud hurrah ! 
 
 Finally the echo on the water dies, 
 
 And sea-birds fly around with wonder and surprise. 
 
^ ^ _ ^ 
 
 Poems on Va7'ioiis Subjects. loi 
 
 'Tis lovely in the lone desert to hear 
 
 The far-off murmur of the waterfall ; 
 'Tis lovely in the twilight, calm and clear, 
 
 To hear the children of the hamlet call 
 Each other to their play, when over all 
 
 The deepening shadows fall, as mourners creep, 
 Bearing in grief the star-bespangled pall 
 
 Of day, when gone to everlasting sleep, 
 
 When winds like spirits sigh, and dews like angels weep. 
 
 'Tis lovely in the evening of our days. 
 
 To hear again the voice of those we loved ; 
 
 To meet with those with whom we once did raise 
 Fair dreams — like palaces long, long removed — 
 
 Friends whose wide wanderings have only proved 
 Our loves, our hopes, have no abiding place, 
 
 And we are daily, hourly behoved. 
 
 By greetings and farewells, how swift a race 
 Unwillingly we run, and cannot slack our pace. 
 
 And thou, fair herald of bright golden days. 
 We hear thee prophesy of unknown flowers, 
 
 And tell what countless roses shall upraise 
 Salvers of incense from ten thousand bowers ; 
 
 O teach us that all the everlasting powers 
 That bid thee thus to greet us with thy song 
 
 Will cause His blessings, like the fertile showers, 
 To fall around us, when from every tongue 
 Anthems of praise shall rise, and bailings loud and long. 
 
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 1 02 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 THE HOMAGE OF THE HEART. 
 
 ^3^EEM not that man doth no communion keep 
 '^^^^^ With the great world of spirits or his God, 
 Because he does not cry, nor pray, nor weep. 
 
 Nor haunt those courts by countless thousands trod 
 Who think they alone do sow and reap. 
 
 Because they bow the knee in His abode 
 Who has no local dwelling, but is there 
 Where we may proffer praise or offer prayer. 
 
 My wanderings led me where the mountains high, 
 Upheave the hoary peak in rugged forms, 
 
 B aring their granite bosoms to the sky, 
 
 Nursing the tempests, and the driving storms ; 
 
 Where chasms yawn and jflood-scooped ravines lie, 
 Which none may gaze upon without alarm, 
 
 With here and there a fertile spot between, 
 
 Spots like oases in the desert green. 
 
 I saw a shepherd, venerable and grey, 
 
 Whose flocks were pastured in that solitude, 
 
 Bent in the attitude of those who pray, 
 Over a moss-grown altar fragment rude 
 
 Of rifted rock, and thinking none may stray 
 Upon his meditations to intrude ; 
 
 And there from all the world and man apart, 
 
 Gave to his God the homage of his heart. 
 
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^ ■ j^ 
 
 Poe77is on Various Subjects. 103 
 
 And it was homage such the Magi gave, 
 When, by the glittering eastern star led on. 
 
 They bowed them down to Him who came to save 
 A guilty world, God's great Incarnate Son. 
 
 It was a taste of heaven to see him crave 
 His God's forgiveness in those wilds alone. 
 
 Where there was none to flatter, none to chide, 
 
 Nor join in worship all in pomp and pride. 
 
 But God was with him, who is everywhere, 
 And dwells not in those towering domes alone 
 
 Which gold or piety have raised for prayer, 
 Of chiselled marble or of sculptured stone ; 
 
 But he who dwells where mountains high 
 
 Uprear their rifted peaks, is more to worship prone, 
 
 Than they who dwell in cities vast and great, 
 
 Where shrines and temples stand in every street. 
 
 Some men are branded Infidels or Deists, 
 
 By those who never knew that man's own heart 
 
 Is God's own temple, and men are their own priests ; 
 Though not like merchandize brought to the mart, 
 
 Their faith they proffer, though the forest beasts 
 Be their associates. God does not impart 
 
 His saving grace alone to those who pray 
 
 In corners of the streets and the highways. 
 
 O when will mankind end their war of creeds, 
 And graft their faith upon one common stalk ? 
 
 Nor shew the world that all their ways and deeds. 
 Their faith and their profession daily mock ? 
 
 O, when will that Good Shepherd, He who feeds 
 His sheep and lambs, have but one fold and flock ? 
 
 And we His own desire of love fulfil — 
 
 Peace upon earth ! to all mankind goodwill. 
 
 -Ti "K 
 
104 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 K 
 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 
 
 @ AY do you not remember, 
 
 
 
 ^ Do you never think of me, 
 
 
 
 In dim twilight 
 
 
 
 And stormy night, 
 
 
 
 When I am on the sea? 
 
 
 
 When the white waves are flinging 
 
 
 
 Their foam on the shore, 
 
 
 
 With the storm demons singing 
 
 
 
 Their dead marches o'er ; 
 
 
 
 When the sea-birds with fright 
 
 
 
 Scream aloud from the steep. 
 
 
 
 And the mantle of night 
 
 
 
 Is spread over the deep ; 
 
 
 
 In storms and in danger 
 
 
 
 where should I flee ? 
 
 
 
 The magnet of memory 
 
 
 
 Will point back to thee. 
 
 
 
 Say do you not remember. 
 
 
 
 Do you ever think of me 
 
 , 
 
 
 In the sweet spring-time, 
 
 
 
 With the silvery chime 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 Of the birds in harmony ? 
 
 K 
 
^ ^ 
 
 1 , Poems on Various Subjects. 105 
 
 With the tvviHght soft stealing 
 
 So silent and still, 
 With the mist half concealing 
 
 The dark purple hill, 
 When the skies and the landscape 
 
 Are blending in one, 
 And the beetle soars past you 
 
 With his deep solemn drone. 
 Birds, flowers, and sunshine 
 
 Are nothing to me — 
 As the sunflower turneth, 
 
 So turn I to thee. 
 
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1 06 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 AN ADDRESS TO THE WELSH BARDS, 
 
 ASSEMBLED IN LIVERPOOL, SEPTEMBER, 1 85 1. 
 
 The President on the occasion rose, and, apologising for the 
 unavoidable absence of the Rev. Joseph Hughes, whose name 
 stood on the programme for the delivery of an English address, 
 proceeded to read the following poetical address to the Eisteddfod : — 
 
 ^ ONS of the mountain, ye whom love inspires, 
 ^ The love of that dear land which gave you birth, 
 
 Who foster in your hearts those noble fires 
 Which still illume that spot of hallowed earth. 
 
 We come far from our native hills away. 
 
 We come to keep old Cambria's holiday. 
 
 We come not with the gladiator's skill. 
 
 And murderous weapons, trained to bloody fight, 
 
 A foe's or chance a brother's blood to spill. 
 Which was of yore Imperial Rome's delight ! 
 
 We come to pour our wildest mountain lays. 
 
 And earn by bardic song immortal praise. 
 
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Poems on Various Subjects. 107 | 
 
 Deem not the spirit fled, whose voice of yore 
 Was heard in every valley, dell, and glen ; 
 
 Still on the mountain breeze its echoes pour, 
 And Cambria listens to the thrilHng strain ! 
 
 Its tones still vibrate through each rocky hall. 
 
 O'er craggy steep and thundering waterfall. 
 
 Ye bards who slumber in the Carnedds heap, 
 And ye whose ashes moulder in the urn, 
 
 Rise, quit yqur tombs, shake off your balmy sleep, 
 To Cambria's bardic festival return. 
 
 Come Taliesin ! rekindle your bardic fire ! 
 
 Come Goronwy ! re-tune and strike the lyre. 
 
 In vain the tyrant drew the murderous blade, 
 To quench the fire of poesy with blood ; 
 
 Our poets' groans were heard from every glade. 
 Their gore empurpled every mountain flood, 
 
 But, Phoenix-like, the music that seemed to have died, 
 
 Again spreads forth her wings, replumed in pride. 
 
 Thy harp, O Cambria ! who shall sing its praise ! 
 
 Or who shall measure in sweetest flowing rhyme. 
 The lengthened number of thy bygone days, 
 
 Lost in the mazes of revolving time. 
 In which its pristine beauty had its birth. 
 Charming the earliest daughters of the earth. 
 
 Long ere the Britons Mona's isle beheld, 
 Or hoary Druids reared the Cromlech pile. 
 
 The harp the monarch's fiendish passions quelled. 
 And taught his angry countenance to smile. 
 
 For who could listen to its thrilling lay 
 I And yield not every feeling to its sway. 
 
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 1 08 Poems on Various Subjects. . 
 
 Empires have fallen, kingdoms passed away, 
 Full many a dynasty and regal race 
 
 Have risen, flourished, and sunk to decay, 
 And of their earthly glory left no trace ; 
 
 But see our harp, its charms of music flow 
 
 Now, like its charms a thousand years ago. 
 
 Great cheering followed the reading of the production, after 
 which the President continued: — "The author is a native of 
 Shropshire, who in the course of Providence had been located in 
 the Isle of Anglesea, a spot remarkable for its poetic genius and 
 bardic fire. (Cheers.) Yes ! it was there he experienced the 
 awakening, by the frequent intercourse he enjoyed with the bards of 
 those parts twenty years ago. During the interval from that time 
 his compositions have appeared occasionally before the public by 
 means of the press." (Cheers.) 
 
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Poems on Various Subjects. 109 I 
 
 SNOWDONIA, 
 
 THE DERNIER RESORT OF THE ANCIENT BRITONS ON MANY 
 TRYING OCCASIONS. 
 
 ^UlTcOME of the eagles, haunts of ancient men, 
 "^ Who, like the bird that soars nearest the sun, 
 And mindeth not mean dwellers of the plain. 
 
 But safe in Alpine solitude doth shun 
 Society ! so those of Cimbric race, 
 
 Dwellers among these pillars of the sky. 
 Like hunted antelopes escaped the chase, 
 
 Sought an asylum here to sing and die. 
 
 They lie in glory ! these eternal hills 
 
 Were made their mausoleums, and the clouds 
 Of silvery mist, that sail above the rills, 
 
 (Tears of eternal snow) became their shroud ; 
 They chanted their own death songs, and the note 
 
 Still throws a halo o'er each rock and stream. 
 O'er every crag their self-sung dirges float, 
 
 And cliffs and caves resound their requiem. 
 
 Matched with such mighty sepulchres, how vain 
 
 Do those vast piles of masonry appear ! 
 Which throw their lengthened shadows o'er the plain 
 
 Of Memphian's sands and Karnac's ruins drear ; 
 What dust of dynasties they did contain, 
 
 The hieroglyphic oval may rehearse. 
 For those the pyramid was reared in vain. 
 
 The mountain chiefs still live in mighty verse. 
 
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:^' 
 
 no 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 'K 
 
 Tread here with reverence ! 'tis holy ground, 
 
 These rocky altars burn with sacred fire, 
 That through all time will cast a glare around, 
 
 And will not till the end of time expire ; 
 The tones of broken harps still there resound, 
 
 Brush'd by the wings of spirits, who repair 
 To hold sweet converse on the hallowed ground. 
 
 And pour their gifts of inspiration there. 
 
 Meet dwelling for the mighty, though thy walls 
 
 Of thunder-beaten granite are not spread 
 With shields and bucklers ! though thy w^aterfalls 
 
 Were all thy martial music — spirit led 
 Thy bards ! Minstrelsy cheered on the brave, 
 
 Hurled from precipice and craggy steep, 
 There bard and warrior found one common grave, 
 
 And side by side lie in the Carnedds heap. 
 
 Land of the legend ! sanctuary of song ! 
 
 Ararat of the hills ! whereon did rest 
 The ark of freedom, with the remnant strong 
 
 Of Cambria's ancient race, when sore oppressed 
 With persecution's deluge, may the dove 
 
 Of Peace, for ever in thy hills be seen, 
 And hither bring the branch of Love ; 
 
 Long may the olive in thy hills be green. 
 
 Ji- 
 
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^ — — ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. in 
 
 THE FLOWER OF THE GRASS. 
 
 jJIpAIR fleeting flower, 
 
 ^ In glorious vesture clad of many dyes ! 
 Child of an hour, 
 That spreads thy beauty to admiring eyes, 
 Then like a meteor extinguished dies. 
 
 Thou dost unfold 
 Thy queenly beauty to the morning sun ; 
 
 Tinted with gold. 
 And every colour blended into one, 
 Blending and ending where they but began. 
 
 There we may trace 
 The glowing tints on Autumn's foreland worn, 
 
 And the rich lace 
 Stole from the wardrobe of the rising morn. 
 Or arching rainbow of the heavens born. 
 
 Say hath some sprite 
 Or fairy hung on their mantle gay. 
 
 Who at daylight 
 Forgot to take the precious robe away. 
 When startled by the unexpected day. 
 
 But, ah ! how soon 
 Thy blushing loveHness doth fade and die ; 
 
 When sultry noon 
 Has glanced on thee with his fierce burning eye, 
 Withered and dead thy dreamy beauties lie. 
 
 >? jtr 
 
112 Foefns on Various Subjects. 
 
 Thus love's young dream — 
 The hero and warrior's laurel wreath, 
 
 The poet's theme, 
 The mountain's sigh, and fame's cold fleeting breath, 
 Will all be blended in decay and death. 
 
 Youth's visions gay. 
 Shining with borrowed light, awhile may gleam, 
 
 Then dies away, 
 Like sun-lit pictures in a noon-day dream. 
 Or murmuring of some spirit-haunted stream. 
 
 All flesh is grass ! 
 And thus all worldly glory fades away ; ^ 
 
 So we shall pass, 
 And having trifled out our little day. 
 Fall like the flower, and perish, and decay. 
 
 ^ ^ 
 
] Poems on Various Subjects. 113 
 
 []5Y REQUEST.] 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY ON ATTAINING HER 
 TWENTY-FIRST YEAR. 
 
 j&NE stage of life is past. Stand on the brow 
 ^^ Of life's proud eminence, bright sunny spot ! 
 Gaze on the misty vale outspread below, 
 
 The haunts of innocence too soon forgot, . 
 And like some pilgrim who has gained the height, 
 
 Cast one long farewell look upon the plain ; 
 The vale grows dim, the day is getting late, 
 
 And you may never view the scene again. 
 You should not gaze with sorrow on the years 
 
 Of life's fresh morning; though the hours were fleet, 
 They should not be remembered with your tears ; 
 
 Though gone for ever, passed with nimble feet, 
 There should be sunny pictures on the wall ; 
 
 In memory's mansion, colours fair and clear. 
 And memory's wine should not be mixed with gall ; 
 
 The joyous draught your future hours should cheer. 
 And happy they who can thus look back, 
 
 Through the long vista of receding days, 
 And see the light of wisdom on their track. 
 
 Peering like beacons through the maze. 
 That hangs too often on the bygone course 
 
 Of youth, unmindful that the years unborn 
 Will haunt them ever, like dreams of remorse, 
 
 With shame, and bitterness, and inward scorn. 
 
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^ _ ^ 
 
 114 Poems oil Various Subjects. 1 
 
 What have you done? and, What are you doing? 
 
 These are questions that all should ask 
 Themselves, in life's young morning, when the dew 
 
 Of youth is fresh upon us, ere we bask 
 In the noontide of life, before the sun 
 
 Hath scorched our verdure, and with feeble fire, 
 Tells us of evening, when our work is done, 
 
 And we shall wait for and receive our hire ; 
 Well done thou good and faithful servant, you 
 
 Who shall receive the Master's welcome soon, 
 Eternally shall rest in His repose, 
 
 And dream no more of misery and woe. 
 Awake right early, then, and take thy yoke. 
 
 And labour through the day right cheerfully. 
 Ere yet the golden bowl in twain be broke, 
 
 Or silver cord be snapped and fountain dry. 
 Time was not made for rest, and you must 
 
 Sow your harvest here, and reap in time to come ; 
 And may eternal garlands deck thy brow. 
 
 To join the everlasting harvest home ; 
 And may your lines in pleasant places fall, 
 
 With every good that God bestows combine, 
 And may you live and die beloved by all, 
 
 And sweet repose in Abraham's bosom find. 
 
 i^ ^ . K 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. . 115 
 
 REFLECTION ON A VISIT TO WIGMORE 
 HALL, NEAR LUDLOW. 
 
 '^y IS in a deep valley embosomed with trees, 
 -eJ That spread wide their branches to woo the soft 
 
 breeze, 
 Stands an old ruined hall, with its turrets so grey, 
 'Twas the pride of the days that had long passed away. 
 From ages heroic each grey mossy stone, 
 Tells a tale of a race that is perished and gone ; 
 How mellow the sunbeams at evening do fall, 
 Like a glory spread over the old ruined hall. 
 
 Hoary ruin has long dwelt around the grey pile, 
 And decay has long revelled in havoc and spoil ! 
 In the old groined roof that hangs vaulted on high, 
 Through many a crevice is seen the blue sky ; 
 And crumbUng to dust is the studded oak door, 
 And the rank grass and nettles grow out of the floor ; 
 Unmolested the ivy luxuriant doth crawl, 
 Like tapestry green, o'er the old ruined hall. 
 
 The seats of the porch they are mossy and green, 
 And the print of the footstep no longer is seen ; 
 Springing out of the wall, where the stags' horns should be, 
 From the mortarless stones, grows an old elder tree, 
 
 ^ ^ >^ 
 
>i ~: K 
 
 ii6 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And the fern and the bramble they both flourish where, 
 In the days of its pride, hung the halbert and spear ; 
 And the gillyflower sweet, it springs from the wall 
 Of each crevice and chink of the old ruined hall. 
 
 Broken arches and pillars in confusion do blend, 
 And the old winding staircase no one can ascend. 
 For the steps in a heap in confusion now lie. 
 And the tracing is gone from the windows on high ; 
 And the sweet song of music no more it is heard, 
 Save from the old tower the song of the bird, 
 Whose music at twilight melodious doth fall, 
 On the silence that dwells round the old ruined hall. 
 
 In the niches where sculptured old statues once stood, 
 
 The starling securely brings up her young brood, 
 
 And the monk with his beads and the friar with his cowl, 
 
 Hath crumbled away ! and the whistle and howl 
 
 Of the blast that seem'd fraught with the dirge and death 
 
 song. 
 Is heard, as it passed through the ruin along ; 
 And the screech owl at night to her fellows doth call. 
 When the moon sheds her beams on the old ruined hall. 
 
 And where the old garden once stood in its pride, 
 
 Now the woodruff and thistle are spread far and wide ; 
 
 And many a flower uncultured here springs, 
 
 And the wild tangled herb to the bushes still clings. 
 
 And the trees with each other in wildness do vie. 
 
 The door it is gone, and the cistern is dry ; 
 
 Wide breeches are seen in the old sunny wall 
 
 Of the gardens and grounds of the old ruined hall. 
 
 •% !f^ 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 117 
 
 O ! where are they gone who erst round the door, 
 That never was closed in the face of the poor, 
 With loud laughing gambols were seen for to play, 
 While the loved antique song through the twilight so grey, 
 Fell oft on the ear, with its rich varied tone ? 
 Oh ! their voices are silent, their music is done ! 
 They are gone like the leaves that in autumn do fall 
 From the trees that embosom the old ruined hall. 
 
 Oh ! I love the grey relic of ages. gone by, 
 
 To roam 'neath thy shadows and heave the deep sigh, 
 
 A sigh for the good olden times that are fled, 
 
 When England was merry, and every shed 
 
 Had its inmates so happy and cheerful as me, 
 
 Such days we again shall despair for to see. 
 
 When the door stood wide open, and the great and the 
 
 small 
 Were welcomed alike to the old ruined hall. 
 
 5? ^ $< 
 
^ -■ ; ■ ^ 
 
 ii8 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 THE SETTLERS. 
 
 tH ! is not this a pleasant land, 
 Fair and enchanting to the sight, 
 Where gaudy shells bedeck the strand. 
 
 With coral heaps and pebbles bright ? 
 Gorgeous and gay the flowers outspread, 
 
 Their glories with each other vie, 
 And mighty cedars overhead 
 Uplift their summits to the sky. 
 
 How clear and silent flow the streams ! 
 
 What beauteous birds flit through the air ! 
 Is this the land to which, in dreams 
 
 Of happiness, we oft repair ? 
 How green the sward ! the bending spray 
 
 Droops with its luscious golden load, 
 All ever green and ever gay : 
 
 Oh ! is not this a blest abode ? 
 
 What, art thou melancholy still ? 
 
 Can care still dim those beaming eyes ? 
 Behold where swell yon purple hills, 
 
 See where those pleasant valleys lie. 
 And we are lords of all around ; 
 
 Who shall our flocks and herds molest ? 
 Or who shall limit set or bound. 
 
 On north, on south, on east, or west ? 
 
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Poems on Various Subjects. 119 
 
 Here are no flattering friends, who fawn 
 
 On us in our prosperity, 
 Who shun us at misfortune's dawn, 
 
 Nor own us in adversity. 
 Here are no foes, who take reward 
 
 The just and innocent to slay ; 
 Whose tongues are Hke the two-edged sword, 
 
 Who deal in slander all the day. 
 
 And is not this a spot replete 
 
 With charms to banish every woe ? 
 Were Canaan's treasures half so great, 
 
 That did with milk and honey flow ? 
 The soil untilled a harvest yields 
 
 That might Nile-watered Egypt grace ; 
 Matched with these verdure-teeming fields. 
 
 E'en Goshen were a barren place. 
 
 Oh, brother, cease ! though I am clay. 
 
 Moulded in nature's sternest form. 
 My yearning bosom, day by day. 
 
 Burns with a longing firm and warm ; 
 Still memory, hke a sunbeam bright. 
 
 With day-born dreams will crowd the mind. 
 And like the polar star at night. 
 
 Points to the land I've left behind. 
 
 This land is beautiful — has charms, 
 To those who seek corrupting gold. 
 
 Who shun the wide-extended arms 
 Our mother-land doth open hold. 
 
120 Poems on Va^'tous Subjects. \ 
 
 The potent sun hath here more power 
 To tinge the blossoms with its beams, 
 
 But I would rather pluck the flower 
 That blooms beside my native streams. 
 
 What is the gaudy bird to me, 
 
 That flits about with plumage gay ? 
 The blackbird on the hawthorn tree 
 
 Has sweeter music in its lay ; 
 The gems of earth are not my care. 
 
 The glittering or gaudy shell ; 
 I heed not the bananas fair, 
 
 Mimosa nor the lotus bell. 
 
 The heather of my native hills 
 
 I prize before the goodliest tree 
 That aromatic gum distils. 
 
 On Afric's coast or Araby ; 
 I'd rather go and seek a grave- — 
 
 A wanderer's grave in mine own land. 
 Than live of avarice the slave, 
 
 Though Peru's gold I could command. 
 
 Our native land ! what callous heart 
 
 But vibrates at the pleasing sound ! 
 Oh ! how the sudden tear will start 
 
 When memory treads that haunted ground j 
 Across the mind its mention flings 
 
 A thousand dreams in sunbeams drest ; 
 And then I wish for dove-like wings, 
 
 To flee away and be at rest. 
 
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ii ^ ■ a. 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 121 
 
 As when of yore, by Bab'lon's streams 
 
 Dejected Israel's harps were hung, 
 And wrapt in moody, thoughtful dreams, 
 
 Silent each melody and song ; 
 Their hearts were all on Salem bent, 
 
 Deep sorrow did their bosom fill, 
 And musing on this theme intent. 
 
 They wept for Zion's holy hill. 
 
 And should not we, as pilgrims here. 
 
 Our footsteps wending Zion-ward, 
 Dry up each silent stealing tear. 
 
 Believing in our sure reward. 
 Sigh only for that blissful shore — 
 
 The land of pure delight and peace. 
 Where earthly troubles will be o'er. 
 
 And all our cares and longings cease ? 
 
 "A . J«: 
 
I 122 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 LONELINESS OF HEART. 
 
 sTM-OW fearful is the solitude of those pine forests grey, 
 ^ Through which the quivered Lidian scarce finds 
 his dubious way ; 
 
 Where through a world of silence dark rivers roll along, 
 
 A world of death-like waters, so free from voice and song. 
 
 We strain the ear to listen, but we cannot catch a sound, 
 
 There is no speech nor language, but silence most pro- 
 found ; 
 
 We strain the eye to heaven, but still there is no light : 
 I The everlasting shadows make everlasting night, 
 I How desolate to wander there, where man has never trod. 
 i Where man, shut from his fellow man, lifts up His heart 
 I to God. 
 
 ! But though it is a fearful thing to dwell from man apart, 
 j 'Tis but dust in the balance to loneliness of heart. 
 I Man's earthly nature leaves him where the mountains 
 
 meet the sky, 
 I When 'neath his feet the Andes or the Cordilleras lie, 
 
 Where sound becomes a wonder, where the avalanche 
 j of snow, 
 
 I Goes down in softened thunder to the far off world below ; 
 I Still there is animation, amid their shattered peaks, 
 I And the condor and the vulture there whet their flinty 
 I beaks, 
 
 !^ : '- ■- jf?: 
 
^ ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 123 I 
 
 Where the Llama with its burden toils up the mountain 
 
 pass, 
 And the sweet Peruvian daffodil springs from the 
 
 withered grass. 
 The mountain gentian there unveils its beauties to tlie 
 
 skies, 
 As fair maids in a nunnery lift up their dark blue eyes ; 
 But oh ! the sense of loneliness these solitudes impart, 
 Is nothing to the solitude of those of lonely heart. 
 'Tis lonely in the prairie, but there sweet flowers do 
 
 spring, 
 And birds with gaudy plumage flit past on joyous wing ; 
 And there the giant pampas grass its plumes of silver 
 
 shew. 
 And there, unseen by mortal eyes, the prairie roses blow. 
 With here and there fair fertile spots of vegetation green. 
 Declare to all who seek to know where prairie fires have 
 
 been ; 
 But what a dreary wilderness, a parched and burnt up 
 
 plain. 
 Is the heart that looks for pity, as the desert looks for rain. 
 No roses cheer this solitude, but such as soon decay, 
 Or like the grass on the house-top, it withers soon away. 
 No flowers bloom to deck this waste, or sweet perfume 
 
 impart, 
 On that cold dreary solitude, a sad and lonely heart. 
 How lovely is the ruin, with its dreamy silent walls. 
 Where those unearthly echoes from timid footsteps fall, 
 And clustering pillars rise in air, like palm trees on the 
 
 plain, 
 
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 124 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And cornice, freize, and broken shaft lie bleaching in the 
 
 rain, 
 Where cherubim and seraphim their marble wings display, 
 And little saints and martyrs lift their stony hands to 
 
 pray; 
 Still from the crevice in the wall the gilly flower springs, 
 And the starling from the broken arch her daily anthem 
 
 sings j 
 But on the ruin of the heart no scented flower is sown, 
 But such as in the desert spring, and wither all alone; 
 And deserts may have water springs that freshness may 
 
 impart, 
 But what a broken cistern is a sad and lonely heart. 
 'Tis lonely in the city, where the tide of life rolls on, 
 And we feel like a stranded bark left on the beach alone ; 
 Each living wave recedes from us, the tide of life rolls by, 
 We find no look of sympathy, no kind inviting eye ; 
 Smiles there may meet with sister smiles, and laughing 
 
 eyes agree — 
 It is a good and pleasant thing to dwell in unity ; 
 To find the golden chain of love round kindred hearts 
 
 entwined. 
 Where friendship dwells, like household gods within the 
 
 heart enshrined ; 
 But greetings in the market-place and smiles and laughter 
 
 loud, 
 But tell us of our loneliness when in the city crowd ; 
 There brothers, sisters, friends may meet, and tidings 
 
 glad impart, 
 But none bring consolation to the sad and lonely heart. 
 
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X hi. 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 125 
 
 But why should we be lonely, though all the world 
 
 should frown ? 
 We still may have communion the world may perhaps 
 
 disown : 
 Though we may fall among the thieves, wounded, and 
 
 there abide. 
 And men may come and look, and then pass on the 
 
 other side ; 
 Still there are those who minister, and all our wants 
 
 supply, 
 Who daily have the charge of us and lift us up on high, 
 Who with their wings o'ershadow us from every stormy 
 
 blast, 
 And guide us to the haven where we find rest at last. 
 The water-floods may threaten us, still we may reach the 
 
 land. 
 By leaning on His arm who holds the water in His hand, 
 Who, in our bitterest trials, sweet counsel will impart, 
 And pour the oil of gladness on the sad and lonely heart. 
 
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M : — , K 
 
 126 Poems oil Various Subjects. 
 
 LUDLOW. 
 
 WRITTEN 1>Y REQUEST FOR " EVANS's HAND-IJOOK. 
 
 ^)^^HEN Amphion, from his lyre's melodious 
 
 •^^ strings, 
 
 Called forth the soul of music into birth, 
 The spirit hovered round on rainbow wings, 
 
 Then from the bosom of the listening earth 
 A city fair and beautiful arose 
 
 As ever glowed in poesy's wild dream — 
 The airy domes to solid marble grew, 
 
 The shadowed pillars trembled in the stream. 
 
 Temples and towers of architecture fair, 
 
 And marble ramparts, glittered in the sun ; 
 Columns of porphyry rose into mid-air ; 
 
 Here colonnades of alabaster run, 
 In vistas stretching from the brazen gate, 
 
 And fountains gushed with never-ceasing song : 
 Such was the city music did create, 
 
 When those sweet tones were o'er the desert flung. 
 
 But oh ! had Amphion from this towering brow 
 Gazed on thy peerless beauty shed around. 
 
 Mirrored in Teme's clear water far below. 
 
 He would have deemed the spot enchanted ground. 
 
 ii !f«; 
 
^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 127 
 
 Enchanting with reaUty, and vain 
 
 The melody of that creative lyre ; 
 No fairer city ever graced the plain, 
 
 Or glittered in the muse's sacred fire. 
 
 Why should we wander by the castled Rhine, 
 
 Or trace the meandering of the lucid Po, 
 Or where Madeira's luxuriant vine 
 
 Their purple clusters through the foliage shew ? 
 Let painters vision forth Italian skies. 
 
 Or dreamy Venice sleeping on the sea, 
 Let Stamboul's gilded minarets arise. 
 
 But still my paradise shall be in thee.*' 
 
 And hark ! the music from yon old grey tower f 
 
 Floats on the breeze like Eden's early rhymes — 
 How, like a dream in some enchanted bower. 
 
 Is listening to those soft melodious chimes ! 
 How beautifully the dying sunbeams fall, 
 
 O'er moulded arch and traceried window fair ! 
 Dimly in majesty, high over all, 
 
 The tower sublimely soars into mid-air. 
 
 And yon grey mantled ruin on the steep, J 
 
 Whose massive ramparts loom athwart the sky, 
 Where roofless hall and battlemented keep. 
 
 And crumbling turrets, tottering hang on high : 
 There is a legend in each moss-grown stone. 
 
 Each broken arch a narrative may tell 
 Of fray and forays, ages past and gone, 
 
 Which history hath chronicled so well. 
 
 * Ludlow. t Ludlow Church-tower. % Ludlow Castle. 
 
:^' 
 
 128 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 u. 
 
 a long farewell ! 
 
 Home of my early days, 
 
 Though parted from thee by my destiny, 
 When others may of earth's fair beauties tell, 
 
 I'll pride myself that I was born in thee. 
 Where'er at last I find a resting-place, 
 
 So early from thy pleasant bowers torn ; 
 My wish w^ould be that some kind hand would trace, 
 
 Above the spot — he was in Ludlow born. 
 
 y(^- 
 
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^ ■ 1^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 129 
 
 LUDLOW, AS SEEN FROM A DISTANCE. 
 
 WRITTEN BY REQUEST FOR THE SECOND EDITION OF " EVANS's 
 HAND-ROOK," 1860. 
 
 fHERE is a base for poesy's wild dream ; 
 Imagination has a real source, 
 As from the fountain-head the mountain stream 
 
 For ever varies in its onward course ; 
 And all we shadow forth as sweet or fair, 
 
 On glowing canvas is not all ideal ; 
 And fancy's touches, rich beyond compare, 
 Are but disguises of the true and real. 
 
 For who can gaze from this bold rocky steep, 
 
 And see such dream-like beauty spread around, 
 Where turrets frown and lucid rivers sweep, 
 
 And temples rise as from enchanted ground, 
 But deems the whole engender'd of the brain — 
 
 Luxurious fancy's offerings come to birth ; 
 And, startling, wakens from the trance again, 
 
 To find the whole a fairy spot of earth ? 
 
 O, land of Beulah ! not in vision seen. 
 
 From fancy's sunny peaks, but one fair spot 
 Of rock and river, woods and meadows green, 
 
 The lines have fallen in a pleasant lot 
 To him whose heritage may be to dwell 
 
 Where the tall trees, and taller towers rise, 
 Who of thy loveliness this truth may tell — 
 
 The world doth still contain a paradise. 
 
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^ ^ 
 
 130 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 MOUNTAIN FLOWERS. 
 
 SWEET children of the soUtude, that grow 
 In Alpine loneUness, on crag or steep, 
 As if they to a nunnery would go, 
 
 With vows of virgin chastity to keep 
 From all defilement with the world below, 
 
 Throwing aside their veils of snow to peep 
 From ledge or crevice in the rock on high, 
 With looks of love on all who may pass by. 
 
 Fearless look forth ! nor dread the ardent gaze 
 Of those who seek you in your mountain home, 
 
 That seek you not to flatter or to praise. 
 To see God in the wilderness they come ; 
 
 And though to heaven your timid eyes ye raise. 
 Look forth with love on those who there may 
 roam ; 
 
 They come to worship at your mountain shrine. 
 
 And own the Hand that made you is divine. 
 
 'Tis truly said, "the desert shall rejoice, — 
 The wilderness shall blossom as the rose ;" 
 
 And thus you daily lift on high your voice, 
 And whisper hallelujahs from your snows. 
 
 How beautiful must seem your goodly choice, 
 Thus dwelling in the solitude, to those 
 
 Who come to listen while you sing on high — 
 
 The Lord, in all His glory, has passed by. 
 
^ ^ j^ 
 
 Poems Of I Various Subjects. 131 
 
 There may be some who think you bloom in vain, 
 Because you seek not man's peculiar care, 
 
 Nor want the former or the latter rain. 
 Desiring not his fostering aid to share ; 
 
 But still you bloom with many a streak and stain. 
 Exulting in your loneliness ! and dare 
 
 To dwell in vapour and snow-blinding storms, 
 
 And in the tempest raise your fragile forms. 
 
 Why do we love the lonely mountain flower, 
 And feel a sympathy with such small things, 
 
 And disregard the treasures of the bower. 
 
 Which art and taste with such profusion flings 
 
 Around the homes of luxury ? What power 
 Is that which bids us take the morning wings, 
 
 And fly to seek these children of the snow. 
 
 And leave the world and all we love below ? 
 
 'Tis but to feel the power that placed you there, 
 
 Its daily guardianship is sure to yield. 
 Who bids us, in the hours of dark despair, 
 
 Consider well the lilies of the field ! 
 To teach us, where the dizzy peaks uprear, 
 
 How universal is God's care revealed 
 In nursing these fair children of the rock, 
 Amid the tempest's roar and thunder's shock. 
 
 Smile on the evidence of that great power 
 That bleaches white the lily, stains the rose. 
 
 And throws divinity on each fair flower 
 That on the ruin of the mountain blows ; 
 
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^_ ^ 
 
 132 Poems on Vaj'ioiis Subjects. 
 
 And fosters such fair children of an hour 
 
 With a solicitude equal to those 
 Who bear His impress, while His love they hide, 
 And with blind accident His power divide. 
 
 Oh ! would you see the writing on the wall, 
 Not wrote by mortal hands ? then let us wend 
 
 Our footsteps to the mountain's rocky hall, 
 
 Where pillared cliffs with draperies fair do blend, 
 
 With flowery characters spread over all. 
 
 Which all may well decipher, would they bend 
 
 Their hearts to read them. What do they declare ? 
 
 The simple truth, that God is everywhere ! 
 
 Ye speak a language few may understand, 
 
 Save those who know what treasures are outspread, 
 
 What pearls are scattered with unsparing hand, 
 High on the beetling rocks where none may tread ; 
 
 Where nodding cliffs seem waiting the command 
 To fall down headlong. Still it may be said 
 
 That all you teach may well be understood, 
 
 That all the works of Providence are good. 
 
 There is a holy promise, written fair 
 
 With God's own finger in each streak and stain ; 
 
 And every petal doth this truth declare — 
 That surely there is nothing made in vain. 
 
 Still this hand-writing should be read with care, 
 And then 'twould teach us never to complain, 
 
 But trust Him who bids the dew to fall, 
 
 And guards the hyssop springing from the wall. 
 
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^ ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 133 
 
 THE OLD HAWTHORN TREE. 
 
 *jE> Y the side of our green grows an old hawthorn 
 
 *^^ tree, 
 
 Unnoticed by strangers, but still dear to me ; 
 
 For like some old ruin, so ancient and grey, 
 
 It brings back with sadness days long passed away. 
 
 As the brook from the hill bursts away from the 
 
 spring, 
 And in tones full of sorrow will murmur and sing ; 
 So the heart's overflowings will strive to be free, 
 Whenever I think of that old hawthorn tree. 
 
 The twisted old branches spread out far and wide, 
 And the trunk is divided, and hollow inside. 
 And names and initials, and dates of the year, 
 Cut deep in the bark, in confusion appear ; 
 And the stone seat, disjointed and rude, is still there. 
 Though the branches above are now leafless and bare, 
 But the sires of the village no more may we see 
 In council together beneath the old tree. 
 
 For our green by the rich man is taken away, 
 
 And ploughed up and harrowed, "to make it to pay ;" 
 
 And if "Dobbin" or "Neddy" should chance to be 
 
 found 
 On the spot that was free, they are marched to the 
 
 pound ; 
 
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^ ^ 
 
 134 Poems on Var 1021s Subjects. 
 
 And the turf by the sheep of the villager shorn, 
 Lies rotting and feeding the squire's tall corn ; 
 But the rustling of corn, though sweet it may be, 
 Sweeter whispers I've heard from beneath the old tree. 
 
 Why take from the village a spot held so dear. 
 And give unto him who had thousands a-year ? 
 Sure the deed was not righteous, 'twas taking away 
 The lamb of the poor man, that lay day by day 
 So close to his bosom, his joy and his pride, 
 The lamb that to him was a daughter beside ; 
 These things they bring sorrow and sadness to me. 
 When I think of the green and the old hawthorn tree. 
 
 The Maypole is gone, with its garlands so gay. 
 And our Whitsuntide wakes are all banished away ; 
 And the few low thatched houses that bordered the 
 
 green 
 Are all levelled and gone, as not fit to be seen ; 
 The shoemaker's cottage, with garden before. 
 The plough and the harrow have passed o'er and o'er ; 
 Such ruin and havoc is grievous to see. 
 On the spot made so dear by the old hawthorn tree. 
 
 How often in summer, when let out of school. 
 The children would run to its shadow so cool ; 
 How very important their games and their mirth. 
 Who could be so happy on all this wdde earth ? 
 When the -knight, proud and haughty, came over from 
 
 Spain, 
 With his spurs and his armour, to wed " Lady Jane ;" 
 And what playthings were* spread, both for dinner 
 
 and tea. 
 What houses were built 'neath the old hawthorn tree. 
 
 ^ ^ "^ 
 
^ ■ ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 135 
 
 And the girls of the village, with the " May" in their 
 
 hair, 
 Full of frolic and mirth, were seen here and there, 
 With the shout and the laugh, and the gambols and 
 
 play, 
 'Twas lovely to hear at the close of the day ; 
 Their chanting in chorus, some old nursery song, 
 Like music from Eden it floated along ; 
 Like sunshine in winter, these things come to me, 
 Whene'er I think of that old hawthorn tree. 
 
 The wheelwright and smith to the tree would repair, 
 And the tailor in slippers came sauntering there ; 
 And the old parish clerk, so grave and sedate. 
 Put his dignity down and seemed proud to relate 
 Traditions and legends, and histories quaint, 
 And strange tales of warrior, and martyr, and saint ; 
 And the rustics would think what a great man was he, 
 As listening they sat 'neath the old hawthorn tree. 
 
 How hallowed the urn that affection doth place 
 To the memory of those we no more may embrace, 
 And the tall fluted pillar, so lofty and high. 
 May lift up the hero from earth to the sky ; 
 And the wind in the ruins may bid us beware 
 That our rest is not here, and to seek it elsewhere ; 
 That our joys are all fleeting, we plainly may see, 
 Whenever we look on the old hawthorn tree. 
 
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:5i . ij; 
 
 136 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES ALTER CASES. 
 
 .IND looks once met these eyes of mine, 
 When fortune smiled upon my lot, 
 How bright the sun then seemed to shine, 
 
 How could it ever be forgot ? 
 All things went very pleasant then — 
 Misfortune came, and then I trow 
 The tide of love rolled back again. 
 And I'm a man not wanted now. 
 
 Kmd invitations, day by day. 
 
 For supper came, pic-nic or rout. 
 And I have heard the ladies say — 
 
 Me they could never do without. 
 But with my troubles came a change, 
 
 And I began to see somehow 
 The people all looked very strange : 
 
 Thinks I, " I am not wanted now !" 
 
 I move along almost unknown. 
 
 The streets and lanes now seem so wide, 
 And Brown, and Jones, and Robinson, 
 
 Now pass by on the other side ! 
 No greeting in the market-place. 
 
 At shaking hands the folks are slow, 
 They hardly look me in the face — 
 
 I'm not the man that's wanted now. 
 
 >? . "^ 
 
^ — -^^ M 
 
 I Poe?ns on Various Subjects. 137 
 
 And now when I a visit pay, 
 
 I ring no bell, no rap, rap, rap, 
 But round I go by the back way, 
 
 And give a very gentle tap ; 
 They keep me waiting at the door, 
 
 And scarce permit me to pass through, 
 And all because they think I'm poor, 
 
 And not the man that's wanted now ! 
 I'm forced to be so very meek, 
 
 Can scarce get in a single word, 
 And if I should attempt to speak, 
 
 It 's ten to one if I am heard. 
 How strange ! not very long ago 
 
 My voice w^ould silence all the row. 
 With *'Yes," "Quite right," "Exactly so!" 
 
 But my opinion's nothing now ! 
 
 Sound sense is deemed a common thing, 
 
 When only found in common men ; 
 But when misfortune breaks the string, 
 
 You'll soon play very common then ! 
 Men weigh us in a golden scale, 
 
 When they our merit wish to know, 
 And should we in the balance fail. 
 
 We're told, "You are not wanted now !" 
 I've heard it said that love was blind, 
 
 • But if you'd wish to see its eyes, 
 You only need just get behind, 
 
 'Twill then stare at you with surprise ! 
 And eyes that used to give consent 
 
 Will frown beneath each scornful brow ; 
 About your business you'll be sent. 
 
 With, " Sir, you are not wanted now !" 
 
 >? ?< 
 
138 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 My friend, Miss Sylvester, so tall, 
 
 Has cut it very short at last; 
 She seldom used to miss to call, 
 
 And "just look in," whene'er she passed. 
 And talk of this and talk of that. 
 
 And praise the pretty spotted cow, 
 And said it looked so nice and fat. 
 
 But never calls to see me now ! 
 
 My garden now is doomed to shed 
 
 Its fragrance on the desert air. 
 And blue and yellow, pink and red. 
 
 Still bloom, but no one seems to care ! 
 And "Marshal Neils," so rich and fine, 
 
 Unheeded wither on the bough ; 
 In vain the "Virgins' Bowers" entwine, 
 
 No virgins call to see them now. 
 
 How good one's name may ever be, 
 
 'Tis better far when wrote in gold; 
 It is so, every day we see, 
 
 It was so in the days of old ! 
 No matter what our merits are, 
 
 Grow poor, and then, you'll all allow, 
 We have to fall back in the rear. 
 
 As not the man that's wanted now ! 
 
 Men worship still the golden calf. 
 
 No matter where, or in what place ; 
 Poor merit is too slow by half, 
 
 The golden horse shall win the race; 
 But worth at last shall sure prevail ! 
 
 Allow me, then, to make my bow, 
 And having told my little tale, 
 
 I'm not the man that's wanted now. 
 
 ?? >^ 
 
X ^ K 
 
 Poems on Vm'ioiis Subjects. 139 
 
 THE QUEEN OF PEACE AND THE KING 
 OF TERRORS. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY THE AWFUL CATASTROPHE OF THE WRECK OF 
 THE ROYAL CHARTER, FOLLOWING SO CLOSELY THE JOYFUL 
 RECEPTION OF HER MOST GRACIOUS MAJESTY IN WALES. 
 
 ^feROUD banners waved o'er Penrhyn's marble 
 -^ halls, 
 
 And joy-lights glared from all its stately towers ; 
 Proud tapestry was hung on all her walls, 
 
 And there went up the incense of sweet flowers ; 
 And there was minstrelsy, as when of yore 
 
 Old Cambria's chieftains listened to the lays 
 Of love, and battle fray, and ancient lore, 
 
 When bards contended for immortal bays. 
 Saw ye the torches' flaming glare, which shed 
 
 Vistas of brightness — avenues of light ? 
 Saw ye the beacons' mighty blaze outspread. 
 
 Like fiery banners hung out on the night ; 
 And those gay dancing barques in yonder bay, 
 
 Garnished with rainbow fire, and gently driven 
 By undulating waves' incessant play. 
 
 Like wandering meteors down the streets of heaven? 
 Now shouts and louder shouts arise. 
 And pealing anthems pierce the skies. 
 Are those the shouts from battle field — 
 The victors shout, when foemen yield ? 
 Ah, no ! the olive branch of peace is there. 
 And maidens' smiles are brightening everywhere. 
 
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>i \ : K 
 
 140 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 
 
 What mean those notes of joy, this glad array ? 
 
 A Queen — the Queen of Peace — had passed that way; 
 
 A Queen in whom a nation's heart is bound, 
 
 Had passed in peace o'er Arvon's classic ground. 
 
 But soon the pageantry was o'er. 
 
 The shouts of joy were heard no more. 
 Another cry broke through the gloomy night. 
 
 Far off, in Mona's druid-haunted isle ; 
 The screaming sea-bird startles with affright, 
 The owlet answers from the ruined pile. 
 
 No cries of joy are those — but blank despair, 
 
 In dreadful majesty, a king is there. 
 
 Can it be Neptune in his dolphin car ? 
 
 Are those the Triton's shells that sound so far ? 
 
 The dreadful King of Terrors is he ; 
 
 He has power on land, and power on sea ; 
 
 All from his presence may wish to flee. 
 
 But none may escape his dark decree. 
 Pavilioned high on Moelfra's rocky shore. 
 Where thundering breakers everlasting roar. 
 Hurling with demon rage the blinding spray 
 Far o'er the beetling, splintered cliffs away, 
 That night this King of Terrors held levee, 
 And summoned there his dreadful vassalry 
 Of storm and darkness, and the maddened sea, 
 The howling tempest made him minstrelsy. 
 Ere yet the day had dwindled into night 
 A gallant home-bound vessel hove in sight. 
 Cleaving the deep with snowy sails unfurled, 
 Laden with treasure from the newer world. 
 And thrilling hearts, responsive with delight 
 When fatherland burst on the ravished sight ! 
 
;ii ■ a^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 141 
 
 (The love of home prevails in every breast, 
 Each thinks his country more than others blest. 
 The Indian's joy is where the palm tree grows, 
 The Esquimaux glories in his snows). 
 "Victims of hope ! gaze on the promised land, 
 Ye shall not set a foot upon the strand. 
 Intently gaze — dimly on yonder beach 
 Ye may discern the homes ye shall not reach." 
 Thus (pointing to the barque) the Storm King spoke. 
 And straightway from the Caves of Ocean broke 
 The hollow murmuring of the foaming sea, 
 When with the wind it strives for mastery, 
 And, wildly rushing on the nearing shore, 
 The headlong billows sped with deaf 'ning roar ; 
 White-crested waves were through the darkness seen, 
 What dreadful slopes and hollows lay between ! 
 Like steeds let loose, that long had been confined, 
 Maddening with rage, came the careering wind. 
 Rushing like howling demons through the sky — 
 Quivered the masts, as if in agony : 
 It seemed that night, as if in horrid sport. 
 The stormy King had summoned to his court 
 His ministers of wrath, and in their train 
 Came rattling hail-storms and the blinding rain — 
 Ambassadors of vengeance from the North, 
 On baneful mission they came pouring forth. 
 Their brows entwined with many a foamy wreath. 
 In chorus howling their wild song of death. 
 In vain the beacon glimmered on the shore — 
 Egyptian darkness spread the ocean o'er. 
 Cleaving the solid mist, through fog and spray. 
 Like some blind man she groped her dubious wa)\ 
 
^ — ■ ■ ^ 
 
 142 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 The line and lead are viewed with deep dismay, 
 
 Fast to the fatal shore she made her way ; 
 
 With thundering plunge the anchors leave the bow, 
 
 The rattling cables hurry fast below. 
 
 Anchors and hope ! will they not stay her course ? 
 
 Go, bind in silken bands the furious horse ! 
 
 Cables and anchors are of no avail. 
 
 The drifting vessel yielded to the gale. 
 
 Oh ! then arose a lamentation wild. 
 
 Each mother clung unto her darling child — 
 
 The father clung to both, — cries of despair, 
 
 And loud appeals for mercy rend the air — 
 
 Cries such as those that broke at dead of night. 
 
 When Egypt's daughters started with affright. 
 
 When, from the palace to the humble shed, 
 
 The prince and peasant mourn'd their first-born dead. 
 
 And still the howling wind to fury lashed. 
 
 Yelling with vengeance, o'er the vessel dashed ; 
 
 Hissing like tortured snakes, the boiling surge 
 
 Joined with the tempest in that awful dirge. 
 
 Sung by the stormy spirits of the deep. 
 
 For those who in its caves were soon to sleep. 
 
 In vain the signal lights illumed the sky. 
 
 And fiery rockets pierced the gloom on high ; 
 
 The glaring torches gleamed across the bay. 
 
 To hail the succour that was far away. 
 
 In vain was all their labour and their toil, 
 
 The furious sea did as a cauldron boil ; 
 
 Mountains of water, cataracts of spray. 
 
 Burst o'er the deck with strife and horrid fray, 
 
 As falls the thundering avalanche of snow, 
 
 And hurls destruction on the plain below. 
 
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;^^^ \ '. i^ 
 
 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 143 
 
 The billows broke, in furious sway, 
 
 On that wild night — Lord, how they prayed for day ! 
 
 Awaiting death — each face of terror spoke, 
 
 Trembled each heart, though there were hearts of oak. 
 
 Still nearer to the shore, what was that sound ? 
 
 Too soon the tale was told, — she was aground. 
 
 'Twere well at this to draw a sombre veil, 
 
 And shroud the rest, and close the harrowing tale. 
 
 Who shall their requiem sing ? or who shall tell 
 
 The deadly scenes of terror which befell 
 
 The doomed band ; how the relentless waves 
 
 Went hand in hand with death ? Were there no graves 
 
 Where they could rest, in ocean caverns deep, 
 
 And sink unheard of in eternal sleep ? 
 
 But, oh ! to sail the world of waters o'er. 
 
 And then to die with one foot on the shore ! 
 
 The cup of death was full, the feast was spread, 
 
 The grim old King made merry with the dead ; 
 
 The feast is past, the revelry is o'er, 
 
 Long will it be remembered on that shore — 
 
 And bleaching bones that from the table fell 
 
 Alone remain the chronicle to tell. 
 
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144 Poems on Va7'ious Siibjecis. 
 
 REMEMBRANCE. 
 
 .tW ALWAYS fancy thou art near me, 
 
 ^ When roaming through the silent wood ; 
 And when I from the world would tear me, 
 
 In vain I seek for solitude. 
 On mountain top or hidden stream, 
 
 There thou art present ever, ever ; 
 My song, my sigh, my hope, my dream. 
 
 When wilt thou leave me, never, never ? 
 
 The earliest bird that greets the dawn. 
 
 Brings with its song the fond remembrance. 
 And in the flowers that deck the lawn. 
 
 Why do I trace thy fair Resemblance ? 
 When caverned by the murmuring sea. 
 
 Where summer ships are sailing, sailing, 
 A Mermaid thou appear'st to me, 
 
 With melancholy wailing, waihng. 
 
 Soft music, with its soothing power, 
 
 Blended with joy, and grief, and madness, 
 Walks softly in the twilight hour, 
 
 With trailing robes of mournful sadness ; 
 If then I wish to be alone. 
 
 There's one companion only, only, 
 Comes whispering in a sweet, low tone. 
 
 Why will you be so lonely, lonely ? 
 
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Poems 071 Various Subjects. 145 
 
 I roamed the world for solitude, 
 
 Still something whispers vainly, vainly, 
 And who it is that doth intrude 
 
 1 know too well, I know too plainly : 
 Joy is no solitary thing. 
 
 And only blest unto revealing ; 
 Harps tuned to please have many a string : 
 
 Cold is the heart with but one feeling. 
 
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M ^ K 
 
 146 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 HUMILITY. 
 
 J^HATEVER gift of grace God may impart, 
 In raising us from sin's deep slumber up, 
 By knocking at the door of our cold heart, 
 Craving admission to come in and sup, 
 Remember the Centurion, and, say — 
 
 " Lord, what am I, that Thou should'st sup with 
 me? 
 Teach me to war and fight, and watch and pray. 
 But, above all, teach me humility ! " 
 
 Man's heart is but a very narrow place, - 
 
 A little map of evil, where we find 
 Dead seas of worldly-mindedness, and trace 
 
 The gloomy hills of little-faith behind ; 
 And frozen continents of unbefief, 
 
 The arctic regions of cold, sinful pride ; 
 Red volcanoes of wrath, and wells of grief, 
 
 And deserts of despair, lie side by side. 
 
 What a dominion is this narrow spot, 
 
 Where king presumption, on his throne of pride, 
 Decrees what things should be and what should not, 
 
 And none with him the empire may divide : 
 A little narrow, dim, and dark retreat. 
 
 The court of vanity, the judgment hall, 
 Where, elevated on the judgment seat, 
 
 Presumption sits and rules as lord of all. 
 
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^ ■ j^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 147 
 
 Cold pride will scorn the simple means of grace, 
 
 As free medicinals are in disdain, 
 And men will deem humility disgrace, 
 
 As some will hunger ere they will complain ; 
 And some would have even miracles to bend, 
 
 And shape their purposes to their own heart. 
 The means appear too little for the end, 
 
 The little maid must play a little part. 
 
 j O ! who will heal our leprosy of sin ? 
 I Like the Assyrian, often have we cried — 
 
 I " Go to the Jordan, and there plunge within." 
 j Thus mercy whispers, have we not replied, 
 
 ! Why to the Jordan ? better waters flow, 
 1 Past our Damascus better waters glide : 
 
 I Self-righteous, thus we to ourselves would go ; 
 ! The Abanas and Pharpars of our pride. 
 
 i What a poor part humanity doth play 
 
 j In the drama of the universe ; 
 
 ! How in life's theatre we day by day, 
 
 j With pomp and vanity, our parts rehearse. 
 
 '; " Thinking the whole creations should clap hands 
 
 i At our performances, we quit the scene, 
 
 : And finish all by wTiting on the sands 
 
 I What parts we acted, and what heroes been. 
 i 
 
 j All knowledge is divine, a mighty field, 
 
 I Rich with the golden corn of God's own love, 
 And howsoever great may be the yield. 
 Be sure the increase all is from above ; 
 
 ^ : fsr 
 
148 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And we go forth to reap the bending grain, 
 
 Unmindful of the fertiUzing dew, 
 Nor with the former or the latter rain. 
 
 The quick'ning power be brought before our view. 
 
 And having bound our sheaf, we set it where 
 
 It may stand prominent, and wait to see 
 What honour and what homage it may share ; 
 
 We set it up for a divinity ; 
 And, like the upright sheaf in Joseph's dream. 
 
 We think all other sheaves to it should bend, 
 And think the moon and stars on us should beam. 
 
 And were created for no other end. 
 
 Bow to the dust, O man ! and tarry there. 
 
 Nor claim relationship with things above ; 
 Such knowledge is too wonderful, nor dare 
 
 To soar too near the scorching sun, and prove 
 The blind presumption of thy feeble flight, 
 
 The burning heat and fervour of his rays, 
 Lest, like the moth that soars too near the light, 
 
 Thou be consumed and perish in the blaze. 
 
 Be thankful that his beams on thee do fall, 
 
 And pray that grace may daily be renew'd ; 
 Remember that his light is shed on all — 
 
 The high, the low, the evil, and the good, 
 And barren rocks receive the bounteous rain. 
 
 The shower we pray for may fall in the sea. 
 The wastes are watered, still they yield no grain. 
 
 And desert sands drink in humidity. 
 
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^ j^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 149 
 
 Delicious fruits in wild profusion grow 
 
 Where none may gather them, in lands unknown, 
 And clustering treasures in the sunbeams glow, 
 
 Sweet flowers do bloom which no hand hath sown ; 
 And shall we in our blind, intemperate haste. 
 
 Arraign God's providence and fostering care ; 
 And in our darkness ask, " Why all this waste. 
 
 Why were they planted, sown, and nourished there?" 
 
 So on man's barren heart doth love Divine 
 
 Fall like the sunbeams on the stony field. 
 The daily brightness of His face doth shine 
 
 On desert souls that will no blossom yield ; 
 Mercy's sweet notes have echoed through the earth, 
 
 And yet how few that do regard the call ; 
 Though Gospel invitations are sent forth, 
 
 How few do come, though there is room for all. 
 
 Be sure of this, 'tis not for man to know 
 
 The tendencies and purposes Divine ; 
 Creation's marvels are not made for show, 
 
 But lie, like jewels, in the deep, dark mine ; 
 And all we look upon, or know, or feel, 
 
 Is wonder wed to wonder, might to might ; 
 Eternity alone will all reveal. 
 
 And bring the second time from darkness, light. 
 
 There is a world in every drop of water, 
 Kingdoms and colonies on every straw, 
 
 More gloriously arrayed than the king's daughter. 
 Yielding obedience to one common law. 
 
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 150 Poems oil Various Subjects. \ 
 
 Each grain of dust may be a continent, 
 
 Where wand'ring tribes and nations roam at will ; 
 
 All on a predetermined errand bent, 
 And each its mission certain to fulfil. 
 
 What unseen forms in myriads abound 
 
 About our path, and countless thousands crowd, 
 Invisible, but near, the mighty round 
 
 Of earth and atmosphere ; and, like the cloud 
 That filled with glory all the holy place, 
 
 So animation, like a vapoury pall. 
 Folding the earth, in beauty we may trace, 
 
 And life on everything, and life in all. 
 
 Life on the living, and life everywhere. 
 
 Life hid in life, and wedded to decay, 
 Life in the unknown deep, and in the air ; 
 
 And who shall catalogue the long array 
 Of its infinity and varied form, 
 
 From the mere monad* to the perfect man ; 
 Or count what animated atoms swarm. 
 
 All comprehended in one mighty plan ? 
 
 Man was not solely his Creator's care — 
 
 Back in the dimness of eternity 
 What mighty creatures peopled the dark air, 
 
 What monsters tenanted the reeking sea, 
 What fearful dragons trod the sweltermg grounfi ; 
 
 And who shall class the verdant forms that sprung 
 In fronded majesty ? the waters round, 
 
 x\nd far and near, a twilight darkness flung. 
 
 * The smallest animated being known. 
 
 ^ '. ?«: 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 151 
 
 Their cemeteries are in the solid rocks, 
 
 In sarcophaguses of unhewn stone,t 
 They He embalmed in the primaeval blocks, 
 
 Where they haye lain millions of years unknown, 
 Till in earth's stony ledger their account 
 
 And histories w^ere deciphered line by line ; 
 Then, like the tablets given on the mount. 
 
 These hidden invoices all proved divine. 
 
 And these have all prais'd God in their own day. 
 
 As ere the Temple rose on Zion's hill. 
 Far in the dreary wilderness away 
 
 The Tabernacle did its place fulfil ; 
 So His great power and purposes were shown 
 
 By these His creature marvels, when mankind 
 Lay far off in the future, all unknown, 
 
 Unfashioned, uncreated, undefined. 
 
 We dive into their sepulchres, and bring 
 
 Stone-shrouded mummies to the light of day ; 
 The daintiest marbles of the daintiest king 
 
 Are fields of death, destruction, and decay. 
 We build our tombs with houses of the dead, J 
 
 And potters' fields with buried thousands lie 
 In those fair slabs on which the dainty tread. 
 
 And in the obelisk that points on high. 
 
 The monument on the cathedral wall. 
 
 The effigies of martyrs, saints, and kings — 
 
 Faith that points up, and hope that smiles on all — 
 The marble angel with the snowy wings. 
 
 t Alluding to the wonderful discoveries of Geology. 
 { The fossiliferous nature of many kinds of marble is here alluded 
 to. The chimney-pieces in the Town Hall, Ormskirk, are fine 
 examples of ecrinitic marble, or the stone lilies of Geology. 
 
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 152 . Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Have all been animated, and contain 
 Within their stony folds the evidence 
 
 That God from all eternity did reign, 
 Filling all space with His omnipotence. 
 
 Sit low down at the table when a guest 
 
 Of those who have invited thee to sup, 
 And rest assured the Master of the feast 
 
 Will kindly bid thee to come higher up ; 
 Remember He reserves the chiefest place 
 
 For other guests more honourable than thee. 
 And learn in everything, and time, and place, 
 
 Man's chiefest wisdom is humiHty. 
 
 >? ^ K 
 
::^ ] K 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 153 
 
 DISSIMULATION. 
 
 SM^OW few can see the token, 
 ^^ How few do know the pain, 
 Of hearts in anger broken. 
 
 Which none may heal again ; 
 How hard to seem deHghted, 
 
 And borrowed smiles put on, 
 When all our hopes are blighted, 
 
 And joy for ever gone. 
 
 Our paths are decked with flowers, 
 
 Our days seem always May, 
 But what are summer bowers 
 
 To hearts as cold as clay ? 
 In vain the roses blossom, 
 
 And spring her wreaths entwine. 
 When on the frozen bosom, 
 
 No ray of love will shine. 
 
 O, why should we dissemble, 
 
 And smile when we do sigh, 
 Why should the fond heart tremble, 
 
 And laughter in the eye — 
 Why should remembered pleasure 
 
 No longer yield delight. 
 And like the stolen treasure 
 
 We dare not bring to light ? 
 
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>i^ — 
 
 154 
 
 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 
 
 K 
 
 The cloud upon the mountains 
 
 May gather into rain, 
 And sparkling in the fountain, 
 
 Its drops will meet again ; 
 But hearts with sorrow clouded. 
 
 Unknown to passers by. 
 In loneliness enshrouded. 
 
 Must wither, droop, and die. 
 
 ■7{- 
 
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M~ ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 155 
 
 THE GARDEN IN WINTER. 
 
 fHE garden seemed a cemetery of flowers, 
 All buried beauties, waiting for the day 
 When the spring sunshine and the gentle showers 
 
 Shall bring to life again the bud and spray. 
 Beneath the soil a thousand sleeping lay, 
 
 Waiting the influence of that warm breath. 
 To bid them from the cold earth come away. 
 To weave the garland and to deck the wreath. 
 
 And over all the cemetery were placed 
 
 Memorials of the lovely, that lay there. 
 Who in the summer time adorned and graced 
 
 The earth with beauty, and with balm the air. 
 Records of virgin lilies, pure and fair, 
 
 And epitaphs of snowdrops early fled ; 
 The buried narcissus without compare. 
 
 Had there a tablet placed above its head. 
 
 Here and there brown tufts of leaves were seen, 
 
 Withered and shrivelled by the wintry blast. 
 Remains of what in days gone by was green. 
 
 Remnants of things too beautiful to last ! 
 Bringing to mind the shroud the robins cast 
 
 O'er the dead children sleeping in the wood ; 
 Or tatter'd banner hung in days long past. 
 
 Where sleeps the hero, or where rests the good. 
 
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 156 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And where are they who, wrapt in the white shroud, 
 
 In silence woven by the drifting snow. 
 Cast on them in their sleep by the dark cloud, 
 
 Whose minion flakes covered the world below. 
 In death they lie, in tuft, or clump, or row, 
 
 Waiting for the birds to startle them from sleep. 
 When they shall rise again, and bloom, and grow, 
 
 When the March winds shall blow or April weep. 
 
 And even in the winter-tide we see 
 
 Some restless spirit bursting from its tomb, 
 Some fair hepatica that would be free, 
 
 Or early jonquil venturing into bloom. 
 Unmindful of the penalty or doom 
 
 Of fragile creatures born before their time. 
 How soon they lie and perish, making room 
 
 For summer beauties glorying in their prime. 
 
 Sleep on, ye buried lilies, rest in earth 
 
 Ye starry crocuses, the former rain 
 That shall baptize you at your early birth. 
 
 Shall soon be sprinkled over hill and plain, 
 And you shall rise up living things again. 
 
 Like the dead bones that felt the spirit's power, 
 So they lay on the earth like scattered grain ! 
 
 And bud and bloom, and open snowy flowers. 
 
 ^ K 
 
M 1^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 157 
 
 THE BENCH BY THE WALL. 
 
 A DESCRIPTION OF BATH LODGE, ORMSKIRK. 
 
 ^TwTf ^ cottage it stands at the end of the lane, 
 --^^ And though very humble, I never complain ; 
 If the sun shines at all, it is sure to shine there, 
 And I'm always content, whether rainy or fair. 
 From those who may hate me I've nothing to fear. 
 Wherever they may be they never come here ; 
 And my friends I make welcome whenever they call. 
 And we chat, and we laugh, on the bench by the wall. 
 
 When the buds in the spring-time are ready to burst. 
 In my old-fashioned garden they open out first ; 
 And the flowers that the rich man knows nothing about. 
 Ere the winter has left us are all peeping out. 
 At all times and seasons some sweet things are found. 
 And blossoms to smile upon all the year round ; 
 And some like green carpets star-spangled do crawl. 
 Round the steps of the door and the bench by the wall. 
 
 The pales of the garden are hoary and green. 
 But the woodbine and roses they ramble between ; 
 And though at all seasons the place it looks gay. 
 Yet the flowers and shrubs have it all their own way. 
 And they droop or they climb, or they flirt with the bees. 
 And as they please me, they all grow as they please ; 
 I feel quite content to sit " Monarch of all," 
 And my throne is the bench that lies under the wall. 
 
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^ — ' ^ 
 
 158 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 There's a pond near the house, where the water-hens 
 
 breed, 
 And sometimes the heron alights there to feed ; 
 It never seems anxious how long it may stay, 
 Having learn'd that there no one will drive it away. 
 And the robins put on such an impudent face, 
 You would think by their way that they owned the whole 
 
 place ! 
 And the starling on high to its fellow will call. 
 From the gable that hangs o'er the bench by the wall. 
 
 And near to the house is a shadow^y wood. 
 
 Full of trees you would fancy were sown at the flood ; 
 
 With all shades of leafage, light, sombre, and green. 
 
 And here and there walks and green alleys between. 
 
 The birds there make music so varied in tune. 
 
 Makes me think that they always give over too soon ; 
 
 Such music is heard not at concert or ball. 
 
 As that which I've heard from the bench by the wall. 
 
 Then I've a greenhouse so full of strange things, 
 That you'd seek for in vain in the gardens of kings ; 
 Geraniums and fuchsias that shed their red tears. 
 And cactuses covered with daggers and spears. 
 Diversified forms, all so strange to behold. 
 Some dotted with pearls, and some dappled with gold ; 
 And some from the roof in rich festoons do fall, 
 And the door opens close to the bench by the wall. 
 
 I would not change my dweUing for palace or hall, 
 
 For my cot is my castle, although very small ; 
 
 All the windows look out on a garden so gay, 
 
 And are wreathed round with roses that seldom decay. 
 
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^ ~ jj; 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 159 
 
 When I chance in the summer to open them wide, 
 The jasmines and roses come dangUng inside 
 With beautiful freedom, but still after all, 
 I would rather sit out on the bench by the wall. 
 
 I have books for to read, and I've music to play. 
 And old coins and medals on many a tray ; 
 Domitians, and Trojans, and Galbas so rare, 
 And both the Faustinas with rich braided hair. 
 With pictures, and shells, and old Museum things. 
 And a parrot all gold, with such beautiful wings, 
 That will whistle and sing, and my name loudly call, 
 When at evening I sit on the bench by the wall. 
 
 And though I repine not at living unknown. 
 Yet, even in Eden, who would live alone ? 
 The eyes that could brighten, the smile that could shed 
 A sunshine on all things, like a fair bird are fled. 
 (One that leaves us in summer and comes not again), 
 Which we hope still to meet with, and still hope in vain; 
 And often a shadow seems shed over all. 
 When I sit all alone on the bench by the wall. 
 
 Thus the lightest of hearts may still carry a stone, 
 A weight and a burden, and bear it alone ; 
 All round may be smiHng, and sunny, and fair. 
 But the cold snow that melts not may still linger there; 
 And smiles, like the sunbeams, on the features may play. 
 But the sun shines in winter and warms not the clay ; 
 Thus, the sweet wine of memory is mingled with gall; 
 As I drink it alone on the bench by the wall. 
 
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1 60 Poems on Vai'ious Subjects. 
 
 THE SWALLOWS. 
 
 ^WHE mists lie on the meadow 
 -cJ Before the sun goes down, 
 Leaves from the trees are falling, 
 
 The hedge-rows all are brown, 
 And through the nobler branches 
 
 How sad the breezes moan, 
 The brier fruits are shining, 
 
 The swallows all are gone. 
 
 They came in early summer, 
 
 And I remember well, 
 How, on their first appearing, 
 
 The children ran to tell ; ' 
 And how in haste we opened 
 
 The windows and the door. 
 To give them all a welcome, 
 
 As we had done before. 
 
 They came from happy islands, 
 
 The children of the sun, 
 And on their wings brought tidings 
 
 That winter's work was done ; 
 We sometimes thought them angels, 
 
 That birds' disguise put on, 
 And gave them entertainment. 
 
 As Lot before had done. 
 
 ^ ?^ 
 
Poems on Vai'ious Siihieds. i6i 
 
 'Twas beautiful to see them 
 
 Fly just above the ground, 
 Or dart like purple meteors 
 
 The fields and gardens round ; 
 And o'er the pool, so glassy. 
 
 We call our little Kate, 
 To see them kiss the water. 
 
 And curves and circles make. 
 
 » 
 
 No rude hand cast to hurt them, 
 
 A pebble or a stone. 
 Such liberty and freedom ! 
 
 The place seemed all their own. 
 The partridges and pheasants. 
 
 The deer that roam in herds, 
 Are all owned by the rich man. 
 
 But these were our birds. 
 
 And then they started building 
 
 Strange nests of mud and clay, 
 And we could see the structure 
 
 Grow larger every day ; 
 Some in the porch above the door, 
 
 Scarce higher than our head. 
 And some cemented on the beams 
 
 That ran across the shed. 
 
 And we could see the spotted eggs, 
 
 By standing on the stool, 
 And the boys climbed up to see them, 
 
 When they came home from school ; 
 
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162 Poems on Various Subjects. | 
 
 And Amy was delighted, 
 
 And scarce for joy could stand, 
 
 When Willie took one from the nest, 
 x^nd placed it in her hand. 
 
 And soon we saw the young ones 
 
 Peeping above the nests. 
 Full feathered then we saw them grow. 
 
 With snow-white glossy breasts ; 
 We noticed how the parent birds 
 
 Were teaching them to fly, 
 But there they sat day after day, 
 
 And seemed afraid to try. 
 
 One day we missed them from the nest,- 
 
 And found that they had flown. 
 And one cold autumn evening 
 
 We found they all had gone ; 
 They gave no word of farewell. 
 
 They sung us no refrain. 
 That told of joys departed. 
 
 Or hopes to meet again. 
 
 And thus the world will treat us. 
 
 Who in our brighter hours, 
 Like sunny birds in summer, 
 
 Will flit around our bowers ; 
 But when misfortunes darken 
 
 Our cold and cloudy day, 
 Like swallows in the autumn, 
 
 Our friends all fly away. 
 
 Ti ^ ^??: 
 
Poems on Var 1021s Subjects. 163 
 
 THE ONCE HAPPY HEART. 
 
 ^ ^ T^HEN the dreams of our childhood have all passed 
 
 away, 
 Like the dreams of the morning that die with the day, 
 Shining bright for the moment, as when passing by 
 The trail of the meteor is seen in the sky. 
 How the spell so enchanting seems empty and vain, 
 When the rod of the wizard is broken in twain ; 
 When the sun from the dial is seen to depart, 
 How dark are the hours that shadow this heart. 
 
 Happy heart ! Happy heart ! 
 
 Then the cloud shall pass over 
 
 The once happy heart ! 
 
 When we move on our journey and all seems to change, 
 And faces familiar seem altered and strange ; 
 All the world seems a waste, and we wander like Cain, 
 When parted from friends we may not see again ! 
 When blessings, and greetings, and bidding farewell. 
 Steal over the heart like the tones of the bell 
 That tolls forth in sorrow when loved ones depart — 
 What shall cast in such sadness a gleam on the heart ? 
 Happy heart ! Happy heart I 
 Then the shadows surround thee, 
 , Thou once happy heart ! 
 
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 164 Poems oil Various Subjects. \ 
 
 When the cold frost of envy shall wither and spoil 
 The garland of hope, that we wove with such toil ; 
 When the first dawn of love is \\\^ first and the last, 
 And the brightest of moments are those that are past ; 
 When careless we seem, though the load of our care 
 Is a burden that no one will help us to bear. 
 And those we should welcome we cause to depart — 
 What a void and a waste is the once happy heart ! 
 
 Happy heart ! happy heart ! 
 
 Bearing sorrow in silence, 
 
 The once happy heart ! 
 
 Though the nightshade may flourish where lilies should 
 
 grow, 
 Yet still in the desert wild flowers may blow ; 
 Oft the gloomiest valley the greenest appears. 
 And roses may flourish though watered with tears ! 
 In the dark night some flowers shed abroad their 
 
 perfume. 
 And garlands yield incense though cast on a tomb ; 
 Thus, the dead leaves of memory shall fragrance impart, 
 As we coil them and twine them around the lone heart ! 
 Happy heart ! Happy heart ! 
 Like a ruin in sunshine, 
 The once happy heart ! 
 
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i$' 7" j^ 
 
 Poems 071 Various Subjects. 165 
 
 A PETITION. 
 
 Mfm ORD, always bid me come to Thee, 
 ■s^ When friends shall me disown, 
 And when they hide their face from me, 
 
 O, then, reveal Thine own ; 
 And let it in the dreary night 
 
 My light and lantern be, 
 And make my pathway clear and bright. 
 
 And guide me unto Thee. 
 
 Give me Thy welcome, then Thine aid 
 
 My wandering faith sustain ; 
 When I, like Peter, feel afraid. 
 
 Let me not cry in vain ; 
 W^hen I attempt to tread the wave. 
 
 Should all my faith then flee. 
 Let not the waters be my grave, 
 
 But bid me come to Thee. 
 
 Or should I seek with borrowed wings 
 
 The wilderness to gain, 
 O, guide me to the water springs. 
 
 And there with me remain. 
 And should the ravens bring me food, 
 
 In all humility 
 Let me declare that Thou art good. 
 
 And bid me come to Thee. 
 
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^ ^ ^ 
 
 1 66 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Uphold me in temptations long, 
 
 When other help shall fail ; 
 If I am weak, Thou, Lord, art strong, 
 
 And surely wilt prevail ! 
 So shall I feel and know Thy power, 
 
 And rest in liberty : 
 Though it may be the eleventh hour, 
 
 Still bid me come to Thee ! 
 
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^ ^ ■ j^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 167 
 
 SOLITUDE AND SILENCE. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A VISIT TO THE GREAT ORMSHEAD. 
 
 ".^ffT is not good for man to be alone ;" 
 ^ In Eden's happiness it might be so, 
 Ere yet the taste of that dread fruit was known, 
 
 That brought death to the world, and all our woe; 
 Ere yet the smiling, teeming earth had borne 
 Its thorns and thistles — harvest of the curse, — 
 -'When innocence with joy did hymn the morn. 
 And holiness outpour'd the evening verse. 
 
 But now the world doth bear the mark of Cain, 
 
 And from the branded forehead we would flee. 
 Though it were good and pleasant to remain 
 
 And dwell with kindred souls in unity ; 
 Yet I would sometimes seek for Hermon's dew. 
 
 In the far wilderness and lonely place, 
 Where, with eternity's broad shore in view. 
 
 The footprints of creation I could trace. 
 
 Walled in with mountain mightiness — yet free, 
 
 The soaring spirit circling takes its flight. 
 And dove-like from the ark of deity. 
 
 Still finds no rest but in the infinite. 
 Mankind and all his marvels pass away, — 
 
 How vain his domes and palaces appear, 
 His pillared glories tremble with decay, 
 
 Matched with creation's architecture here. 
 
 71 ]f< 
 
:i4 ^ K 
 
 1 68 Foetus on Various Subjects. 
 
 Carve out ten thousand cities from these rocks, 
 
 Spread them in glory over hill and plain, 
 Take all earth's marble splendours from these blocks, 
 
 Then measure, if thou canst, what doth remain. 
 Temples will perish, marble halls decay, 
 
 Ephesias' columned pride has crumbled low. 
 And Babel, like a dream, has passed away — 
 
 The hills seem firmer as they older grow. 
 
 How beautiful the ruin in the glen, 
 
 When evening shadows steal across its walls : 
 What sermons in those old grey stones ! and then 
 
 What holy silence reigns through all its halls ; 
 Through broken arch and traceried window high 
 
 The breezes chant their vespets low, and say — 
 As angels whisper, or as spirits sigh, — 
 
 " Thus worldly glory vanisheth away." 
 
 A ruin'd city is a fearful thing. 
 
 As Egypt's sandy wilderness may tell— 
 Fann'd into silence by oblivion's wing, 
 
 With not a spirit left to toll the knell 
 Of its departed glory, — still, the owl 
 
 And bat will have their habitation there ; 
 The lion and the jackal there will prowl, 
 
 And grim hyenas have their secret lair. 
 
 But mountain solitude, O how profound ! 
 
 Creation seems entranced in stony sleep ; 
 Dare not to speak, for no unholy sound 
 
 Should here disturb the vigils we would keep, 
 
 "^ js: 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 169 
 
 Where nature slumbers on her mountain bier, 
 
 No mortal's voice should chant her great requiem, 
 
 For who may pour in her cold marble ear | 
 
 The mighty music meet for such a theme ! I 
 
 How like to chaos, ere th' eternal Word 1 
 
 First startled slumbering matter with affright, i 
 From its dark sleep of ages, ere was heard 
 
 Thrilling the shapeless mass — "Let there be light/' , 
 
 When in the deserts of eternal space, I 
 
 Dormant and dark, this world lay all alone, ! 
 
 Ere summon'd forth to join the mighty race ' 
 
 Of orbs careering round Jehovah's throne. I 
 
 The perished nations of the earlier world \ 
 
 Heaped up their mighty piles of chisell'd stone, 
 But desolation to the dust hath hurl'd 
 
 Their marble pride. Who shall declare or own 
 Their generation who did first uprear 
 
 Those sculptured mountains — marvels of the Nile — 
 That lift their dizzy summits in mid-air, ■ 
 
 Or tell the founders of each mighty pile ? 
 
 " Full forty centuries on us look down," "^ 
 
 The warrior shouted, pointing to their pride : 1 
 
 How many thousand years have seen the frown | 
 
 Thrown on these deserts, where no men abide, j 
 
 By these o'ershadowing battlements that soar | 
 
 Where clouds and tempests hold their dark levee ; 
 Those aerial strongholds that hang beetling o'er 
 
 The gloomy pass in sullen majesty. ; 
 
 * Napoleon's address to his army at the battle of the Pyramids. I 
 
 7{ '. f?: 
 
170 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Infinite Power, how mighty are Thy walls 
 
 Of mountain masonry, pillar'd on high ! 
 Thou hast scooped out Thy everlasting halls, 
 
 And hung Thy marble chambers in the sky ; 
 On these eternal hills Thy temples rise. 
 
 Who shall ascend to worship there, or pray. 
 Or offer up the morning sacrifice. 
 
 Upon these rocky altars far away ? 
 
 Ye elements ! hurl all your fury forth, — 
 
 The battering-rams of thunder play in vain. 
 And all the dread artillery of the north — 
 
 Hailstones and lightnings, arrowy sleet and rain. 
 Unite your wrathful energies ; assail 
 
 Creation's ramparts — terribly they frown ! 
 Come daily to the charge — can ye prevail ? 
 
 Unmoved the cliffs will on your wrath look down. 
 
 Dimly and faint the far-off world below 
 
 In dreamy vastness round about us lies, 
 Like silver threads the far-off rivers flow, 
 
 And distant cities mingle with the skies. 
 Nature seems lull'd into primeval rest. 
 
 And balmy silence scatters all around, 
 The incense of forgetfulness — how blest 
 
 The holy hours of solitude profound. 
 
 Silence ; ah, no ! there is a thrilling voice. 
 As when the morning stars together sung ; 
 
 Have ye not heard the listening hills rejoice ? 
 And heard the fearful desert's tuneful tongue ? 
 
 y{ K 
 
;^' 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 K 
 
 171 
 
 Each rocky pinnacle sends up on high 
 Its daily alleluiahs — praise and prayer ; 
 
 The echoing cliffs in loud hosannahs vie, 
 And chant their vespers to the evening air. 
 
 Strain o'er the boundless waste thine anxious eye, 
 
 Bend to the death-like solitude thine ear. 
 There you may see the Deity pass by. 
 
 And hear His footsteps falhng far and near. 
 Deign not that He will dwell with man alone. 
 
 The prairie sings His praise, the burning sands, 
 The mighty Alps and misty hills will own. 
 
 He dwelleth not in temples made with hands. 
 
 71. 
 
 K 
 
M \ K 
 
 172 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 NOBODY TO LOVE. 
 
 S^HE earth is full of beauty, 
 "^ To those who view aright, 
 But they that dwell in darkness 
 
 Do care not for the light ; 
 Our days are swiftly fleeting, 
 
 But still they may be blest. 
 And he shall live the wisest 
 
 Who does enjoy them best. 
 Still bitter herbs of sorrow 
 
 May round the lilies twine, 
 And the gall of recollection 
 
 May mingle with the wine. 
 But though the world is lovely, 
 
 Still it shall always prove 
 A dreary wilderness to him 
 
 Who finds no one to love. 
 
 The sailor in mid-ocean, 
 
 Smooth though the waters be. 
 
 Finds in his breast a vagueness. 
 And wishes he could see 
 
 Some dim shore in the distance, * 
 
 -^ if<: 
 
jPoems on Various Subjects. 173 
 
 That would his home recall ; 
 Or some bright sunny island, 
 
 Covered with palm trees tall ; 
 Some rock by sea-birds haunted, 
 
 As he goes sailing by, 
 Some spot of desolation, 
 
 Whereon to rest his eye. 
 Nothing but waters round him — 
 
 Only the skies above — 
 With not a friend to smile on. 
 
 And nobody to love ! 
 
 And he who on the mountains 
 
 Looks on the landscape wide, 
 Sees but some trackless desert, 
 
 Wherein no men abide. 
 Sighs for the fresh green meadows. 
 
 Looks for the shadowing trees, 
 And seeks in vain the hamlet, 
 
 But nothing finds to please ; 
 Then dreams of some thatched cottage. 
 
 Hid in some leafy dell, 
 Covered with orchard blossoms. 
 
 With maiden at the well ; 
 His heart seems like the moorland 
 
 O'er which cloud shadows move. 
 With nobody to welcome. 
 
 And nobody to love. 
 
174 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Though bright may be the sunshine 
 
 That on the mountain lies, 
 The heart is always seeking 
 
 The light from loving eyes. 
 The flowers all are lovely 
 
 That round our bowers twine, 
 But bowers are most beautiful 
 
 Where loving eyes do shine. 
 If we would covet pleasure 
 
 Someone our joy must share ; 
 Hearts that are wTapt in solitude 
 
 Are like the desert bare ; 
 The first man walked in innocence, 
 
 Through garden and through grove, 
 But felt it very lonely, 
 
 With nobody to love. 
 
 -Ti . K 
 
-^ — ^ — ^ 
 
 Poefiis 071 Various Subjects. 175 
 
 THE SCULPTURE GALLERY. 
 
 ^y^ES ! they are human forms ; it may not be 
 ^^ In harmony with the Creator's plan 
 That heaven should hide the whole of deity : 
 
 There was a god-like cast in early man, 
 Rarely revealed in vision or in dream, 
 In this our dark degenerated day — ■ 
 ■ Like broken lilies floating down the stream, 
 They tell fair tales of glories far away. 
 
 And haunting still man's recollective mind, 
 
 Forms, with their Maker's impress, oft appears, 
 Like those who saw and then were smitten blind. 
 
 Will talk of flowers in their later years : 
 With bursting hearts we listen while they tell, 
 
 With blighted memories, their early woes. 
 How darkness stole away the sweet blue bell, 
 
 And wrapt in night the half-remembered rose. 
 
 Yes ! there was once divinity in man 
 
 The curse did not obliterate ; we trace 
 Creation's fairest marvels in the plan ; 
 
 And is there not a glory in that face, 
 Where shame has never stained the virgin cheek. 
 
 Which innocence will to our gaze reveal ? 
 And oh ! what language those bright eyes will speak. 
 
 Which blushing chastity will not conceal. 
 
176 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Heaven hath its kiminaries — hung on high, 
 
 What wonders and what marvels they may teach ; 
 But still these orbs are in the distant sky, 
 
 And earth has miracles within our reach : 
 Its flowers are lovely, and its woods are fair ; 
 
 But these will perish — none may find their place ; 
 The beautiful is round us everywhere, 
 
 But man alone has dignity and grace. 
 
 And who shall say that man has overdone 
 
 The marvels of his Maker to pourtray, 
 These breathless forms from the cold marble stone, 
 
 When living man was moulded from the clay. 
 Genius at most is but a gifted dower, 
 
 And all we glory in — taste, beauty, art — 
 Are derivations of creative power : 
 
 Man plays a poor and secondary part. 
 
 And all this god-like beauty lay asleep, 
 
 As we behold them now, in the cold rock, 
 Deep in the mine, fathoms and fathoms deep, 
 
 Each as we see them slumbered in the block ; 
 Each limb, each feature, that rich waving hair. 
 
 Those swelhng bosoms, whiter than the snow, 
 Each atom and each particle was there, 
 
 Thousands and tens of thousands years ago. 
 
 Nay, startle not ! for all is not revealed. 
 
 And sealed-up wonders round about are hid ; 
 
 What gems in earthly caskets lie concealed, 
 And man can do no more than lift the lid, 
 
 y{ . i^ 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 177 
 
 And gaze with wonder, but will surely fail 
 
 To count its treasures, or their purpose know : 
 
 Man has not seen the treasures of the hail, 
 Or visited the magazines of snow. 
 
 We may add stone to stone, till high in air 
 
 The temple or the pyramid may rise. 
 And domes, and minarets, and pillars fair, 
 
 May lift their dizzy summits to the skies ; 
 Still adding does not always beautify : 
 
 Man may build mountains in his little day ; 
 But when does loveliness burst on the eye ? 
 
 Not when we add, but when we take away. 
 
 We break the shell to find the pearl we seek, 
 
 The fairest gems are polished, chased, and set, 
 And these fair forms, that almost seem to speak. 
 
 Had in the lifeless marble slumbered yet, 
 Till man had chased away the sullied crust — 
 
 Fractured the stony fetters and set free, 
 Throwing a spirit into every bust. 
 
 And set each bound-up Umb at liberty. 
 
 O could we but be taught, when we do pray 
 
 To Him who did for all the world atone, 
 Not only for the grace we need each day. 
 
 But to remove and take away the stone 
 That centres in our cold and marble hearts. 
 
 Preventing grace from daily entering there ; 
 Blunting the spirit's sword and mercy's darts : 
 
 This were a powerful and pointed prayer. 
 
 ii K 
 
>i : a. 
 
 178 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Thus should we all, through love's transforming power, 
 
 Like polished corners of the temple shine ; 
 Fair cedar pillars carved with knop and flower, 
 
 Where lily-work of mercy would entwine, 
 All overlaid with the pure gold of grace, — 
 
 Thrice purified from the foul dross of sin ; 
 Then would our hearts become a dwelling-place, 
 
 Where love may enter and faith live within. 
 
 -Ti ^ f^ 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 179 
 
 THERE IS A SOUND OF RAIN. 
 
 fHE desert land is thirsty, 
 No water-brooks are found, 
 The grass is parched and withered, 
 
 Where shall the springs be found ? 
 The pure, refreshing fountains. 
 When may we hope to gain ? 
 Teach us, in faith and patience. 
 To listen for the rain. 
 
 Lord, Thou hast said, " the desert 
 
 Shall blossom as the rose ;" 
 How shall the flowers open, 
 
 If our cold hearts are froze ? 
 O, let the sunbeams brighten 
 
 The dreary wastes again, 
 Teach us to wait Thy coming. 
 
 And listen for the rain ! 
 
 The corn can never ripen 
 
 That on the stones do fall. 
 How shall the vineyard flourish, 
 
 If sin break down the wall ? 
 Lord, teach us not to murmur. 
 
 Nor in our streets complain ; 
 And let us wait for blessings. 
 
 And listen for the rain. 
 
 ^ if^ 
 
1 80 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Then let the dews of Hermon, 
 
 More precious than the gold, 
 Fall on the fields, and yield Thee 
 
 Thy sheaves an hundred-fold ; 
 So shalt Thou all Thy people 
 
 With corn and wine sustain ; 
 So shall the nations praise Thee, 
 
 And bless Thee for the rain. 
 
 ?? ^ K 
 
;ii ; ^ i^ 
 
 Poems on Va?'ious Subjects. i8i 
 
 MELANCHOLY MUSINGS. 
 
 .tW AM alone ! no creature nigh, 
 
 ^ There's not a murmur in the sky, 
 No whisper steals across the heath, 
 But silence, silence still as death. 
 Sweet time to ponder o'er how vain 
 The world, and all it doth contain ; 
 ' As straws and leaves float down the stream. 
 So earth's delusive pleasures seem — 
 They live, they die, we hear their knell, 
 And sigh, and why we cannot tell. 
 
 I love the spirit-haunted wood, 
 I love to hear the babbUng flood, 
 That noisily bursts through the glen, 
 Then goes to sleep, then wakes again ; 
 I love o'er Alpine wastes to roam — 
 The desert is to me a home. 
 The barren heath is holy ground. 
 Where kindred spirits hover round ; 
 Still when alone, on crag or fell, 
 I sigh, and why I cannot tell. 
 
 ii K 
 
M ■ K 
 
 182 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 Who does not love the holy peal, 
 Of far-off bells, that sweetly steal, 
 Like anthems from a world unseen, 
 With those sweet pauses flung between ? 
 Sweet in the shadowing of the day. 
 The songs of children at their play, 
 Then smiles will play and tears will flow, 
 And joy comes hand in hand with woe ; 
 Who has not felt the potent spell. 
 And sighed ? and why we cannot tell. 
 
 Loved forms across our paths will stalk. 
 And flit around our noon-day walk — 
 We even call them from the dead, 
 To wreathe our chaplets round their head ; 
 With us they climb the mountain side, 
 We hear their voices when the tide 
 Comes singing on the rocky shore. 
 For those who sank to rise no more 
 Dirges and death songs — fearful knell ! 
 Then why we sigh we well may tell. 
 
 Eternal yearnings, deep, profound, 
 Our mortal aspirations bound ; 
 Of pleasures though we drink our fill, 
 The heat is followed by a chill ; 
 Rent-hearted wishes soonest cloy, 
 There's nightshade mingled with our joy ; 
 And though of all we wish possest, 
 There's still a vacuum in the breast 
 That haunts us o'er hill and dell, 
 Why should it be so ? Who can tell ? 
 
 7{ K 
 
M '' ki: 
 
 Poeins on Various Subjects. 183 
 
 Man is a miracle — combined 
 
 Of strange compounds, matter and mind, 
 
 Each journeying on a diverse way. 
 
 The one to ruin and decay, 
 
 The other (shadowy, dreamy thing) 
 
 Would be for ever on the wing, 
 
 And trusting still to roam the sky, 
 
 Soars where the burning sunbeams lie, 
 
 And falls, as once Iscariot fell. 
 
 And is, like truth, deep in the well. 
 
 The evidence of unseen things. 
 Like fountains in the desert springs. 
 Still thirsting, still forbid to taste. 
 The living stream still runs to waste ; 
 To waste, ah, no ! the precious store 
 The desert shall one day restore ; 
 And where the cooling waters go 
 We know not now, but soon shall know 
 When bursting from our earthly cell. 
 Of thirst no more the soul may tell. 
 
 ^ p: 
 
184 Poems on Various Subjects. \ 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY HEARING MOZART'S "HYMN TO THE VIRGIN" 
 PLAYED ON THE ORGAN. 
 
 w^S one who, doomed to die, lifts up his eyes, 
 
 ^^ Looking for that from heaven which earth denies, 
 
 And hears (or dreams he hears) an angel's wings. 
 
 Bearing a message from the King of Kings — 
 
 "Thy prayer is heard and answered — thou shalt live !" 
 
 So doth these spirit-moving whispers give 
 
 New life to those who otherwise were dead. 
 
 As o'er the dry bones in the valley spread 
 
 The breathing spirit moved, and then the slain 
 
 Revived and startled into life again ! 
 
 So steals thy spirit o'er us, then, with bliss. 
 
 We feel there is a better life than this ! 
 
 We feel entranced, like Danae, in the hour 
 When round about her fell the glittering shower, 
 And gold came down like snow, in shining flakes, 
 That fell in music on the silver lakes. 
 What visions rise before us ! — as to tjiem 
 Who see in faith the New Jerusalem, 
 And hear the golden harps before the throne, 
 (Melody — to mortals little known.) 
 A heaven of sound, — the gates are open wide ; 
 We listen, and we hear the waters glide. 
 Whispering to pearls and jaspers on the shore ; 
 Waters — of which who drink shall thirst no more ! 
 
^ ^ ^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 185 
 
 'Tis now as far off thunders in the hills, 
 Then as the murmurings of the earth-born rills, 
 Or voices hymning at the close of day, 
 When evening vapours wrap the earth in grey ; 
 And children's music, floating on the breeze, 
 Soars faintly from the hamlet in the trees, 
 (Sweet symphonies, that seem from Eden stole. 
 That teaches us to feel we have a soul,) 
 Causing the traveller to check his steed, 
 And pause to note, to listen, and take heed. 
 And, marvelling at the spell around him thrown, 
 Sigh for a happiness till then unknown. 
 
 Transported now to some cathedral aisle, 
 
 We listen to the virgin's midnight wail: — 
 
 Mingled with litanies and holy song — 
 
 For some departed sister borne along. 
 
 And where the spectral-looking tapers gleam 
 
 Rolls the slow dirge, and rises the requiem ; 
 
 The ch^xins that bind us to the earth are riven. 
 
 We know not if we live in earth or heaven ! 
 
 A calm is o'er the willing spirit wound, 
 
 And we feel wandering on holy ground ; 
 
 The avenging angel sheathes the gleaming sword, 
 
 And we lean on the bosom of the Tord. 
 
 7{ . ^ ?^ 
 
;5j J< 
 
 1 86 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 I SAW THE WATERS GLIDING. 
 
 SAW the waters gliding 
 Where willow trees did bend 
 Their drooping boughs to listen, 
 
 As he who from a friend, 
 When seeking consolation, 
 Entreateth him to stay : 
 And heedless as the waters, 
 He passeth on his way. 
 
 And warbling went the water 
 
 Adown its pebbly bed. 
 In vain the drooping willow 
 
 Bent down her mournful head; 
 Unnoticed and unheeded, 
 
 The waters passed it by, 
 And left the slighted willow. 
 
 To languish and to die. 
 
 'Tis thus the heart is tempted 
 
 To breathe its sighs in vain. 
 And give its vows where nothing 
 
 Is given back again ; 
 Love, as the leaves in autumn, 
 
 On faithless streams are thrown. 
 And like the wintry willow. 
 
 The heart then droops alone. 
 
 j{ >^ 
 
;ii' 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 187 
 
 K 
 
 Bread cast upon the waters 
 
 Will unto us return, 
 And shall be found in after days, 
 
 As all of us may learn ; 
 But love cast on a worthless heart, 
 
 Like pearls and jewels tost. 
 Into the bosom of the deep, 
 
 Will be for ever lost. 
 
 >?. 
 
 K 
 
>i J< 
 
 1 88 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 THE DOVES OF WAR. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY CARRIER PIGEONS EMPLOYED DURING THE 
 LATE SIEGE OF PARIS. 
 
 ^PEED thee ! serial messenger, thy mission is of love, 
 '^ Glide onward through the azure fields, and tarry 
 
 not, sweet dove \ 
 Ten thousand are expecting thee, ten thousand eyes do 
 
 Strain 
 Their heaven-directed vision to hail thee back again. 
 The feet of those are beautiful who goodly tidings bring, 
 But more desired the tidings are borne underneath thy 
 
 wing; 
 Lovely thou art at all times, most lovely in our eyes. 
 When bearing news for loved ones — a message from the 
 skies. 
 
 Thy pathway is to us unknown, thy course is where the 
 
 light 
 Streams down through heaven's arches, making the earth 
 
 look bright, 
 Where fleecy clouds accumulate, like continents of snow. 
 Or cast their darkening shadows on the dream-like world 
 
 below. 
 What guides thee in thy wanderings? No pillar rises 
 
 there, 
 
 '-^ K 
 
M i^ 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 189 
 
 No index finger points the road to guide thee through 
 
 the air ; 
 Yet still the way is never lost, nor dost thou seek to rest, 
 Till with unwearied pinions thou dost regain thy nest. 
 
 Then speed thee ! heavenly messenger, thy mission is to 
 
 tell 
 Where latest on the battle-field, how many heroes fell — 
 Where, like opposing thunderstorms, the hostile foemen 
 
 meet, 
 Of bannered legions' dire advance, and terrible retreat, 
 And how men, as hyaenas, met to tell of bloody field. 
 How all determined seemed to die, and none inclined 
 
 to yield. 
 How wreathing smoke from off the plain like demon 
 
 incense rose. 
 And wrapt in shades of night and death afike all friends 
 
 and foes. 
 
 The hope-forsaken city now with death is girdled round. 
 And famine stares with sunken eyes, but still there is 
 
 not found 
 A covered way to steal from death, a door of hope to 
 
 show 
 Some narrow road that leads to life unnoticed by the foe. 
 Encircling horrors hinder not, for upwards thou hast 
 
 sped. 
 And gone forth on thy mission from the city of the dead ! 
 How beautiful the turtle's voice, when heard in early 
 
 spring. 
 But sorrow more than joyfulness the doves of war must 
 
 bring. 
 
 ii ■- R 
 
190 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 And maidens perhaps may curse thee, and mothers 
 
 perhaps may bless, 
 As news of Hfe or death may come, of gladness or 
 
 distress ; 
 The smiles of joy will brighten where the welcome 
 
 tidings fall, 
 And sadness cause the harp to hang in silence on the 
 
 wall ; 
 Shadows shall steal o'er many a brow where sunny smiles 
 
 should dwell, 
 And stricken hearts in anguish break at what thou hast 
 
 to tell ; 
 Why should the bird so wont to bring love's goddess in 
 
 her car 
 Now hurry forth on eager wing to tell of death and war ? 
 
 Not from the ark thou now dost go, as thou didst at the 
 
 flood. 
 Nor canst thou pluck one olive branch where all are 
 
 stained with blood ; 
 Gaul's eagles may not chase thee now, they lie upon the 
 
 plain. 
 And who may tell the distant day when they shall soar 
 
 again ? 
 Strange ! where the eagle may not soar the timid dove 
 
 may fly. 
 And, while the eagle prostrate lies, the dove shall mount 
 
 on high. 
 Blest omen for a bleeding land, all hate shall turn to love, 
 For what hast thou to do with war, thou gentle, harmless 
 
 dove? 
 
 ii ^ ?5; 
 
Poeuis on Various Subjects. 191 
 
 Thus in the hour of fear and death what unseen spirits 
 
 bring, 
 Sweet messages of mercy, and hope around to fling ; 
 What angels guard us through the day, and watch us 
 
 through the night, 
 What winged ministers of love leave their abodes of light. 
 And lighten in^way unknown these dark, cold hearts of 
 
 ours. 
 And, where a leaf would scarcely bud, encircle us with 
 
 flowers ; 
 Thus may we in thine embassies the blessed emblem 
 
 greet. 
 The dove with outstretched pinions above the mercy 
 
 seat ! 
 
 >? K 
 
;^ ^ ' a. 
 
 192 Poeitis on Various Subjects. 
 
 CONFIDENCE IN GOD. 
 
 ^HOM else in heaven have we but Thee ? 
 Though those that loved us there are gone, 
 And in Thy sight, as spirits bright, 
 
 They daily stand before Thy throne ; 
 Though clothed in white the loved ones be, 
 Whom else in heaven have we but Thee ? 
 
 O, blessed rest, to dwell with those 
 We loved on earth, to part no more ! 
 
 All trials gone with each loved one, 
 The better country to explore ; 
 
 Though good such fellowship may be, 
 Whom else in heaven have we but Thee ? 
 
 Enable us to cast aside 
 
 All our fond hopes, all carnal ties, 
 Nor think to meet. Lord, at Thy feet. 
 
 Such love as we on earth do prize ; 
 Teach us to sing, from all things free, 
 
 Whom else in heaven have we but Thee ? 
 
 O, may we in the trying hour. 
 
 When friends pass on the other side — 
 
 And when we prove that carnal love 
 The trying hour will not abide. 
 
 Sing, when we think on Calvary, 
 
 Whom else in heaven have we but Thee ? 
 
 Be with us in the furnace. Lord, 
 
 Refine us there and make us pure ; 
 Let us be staid, though all shall fade. 
 
 On love that always shall endure : 
 Whom else, through all eternity. 
 
 In heaven or earth, have we but Thee ? 
 y^, K 
 
Poejiis oil Various Subjects. - 193 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 WRITTEN ON SEEING THE PICTURE OF A GIRI. WITH A 
 BASKET OF GRAPES. 
 
 t 
 
 WOULD I were a dweller 'neath those skies, 
 ^^ That lend such charming languor to those eyes, 
 Fearful in modesty, yet fully fraught 
 With that by which first misery was bought. 
 
 Those bashful glances striving to conceal 
 What, by their striving, they do most reveal, 
 The fires that burn beneath each downcast lid, 
 That more intensely burn the more they're hid. 
 
 Prometheus did from clay a man create, 
 And called down fire the mass to animate ; 
 I But oh ! the softened fires those eyes employ, 
 Not only can create, but do destroy. 
 
 Create that longing with presumption rife, 
 To animate thy form with breath and life, 
 And then destroy the dreams of life to find 
 Thou only art an image of the mind. 
 
 'Tis well thou hadst from glowing fancy birth. 
 And wast not born like daughters of the earth ! 
 i Lest framed in such a mould thou should'st receive, 
 ! That which to mortal man should never irive. 
 
 ; ■ ! 
 
 7{ K 
 
194 Poems on Various Subjects. 1 
 
 Though loaded with x\nthylla's luscious vine, 
 The boughs and curling tendrils that entwine, 
 Those raven curls may shame the brows of them 
 Who wear the glittering jewelled diadem. 
 
 A majesty in modesty that seems 
 Something to be remembered of our happier dreams ! 
 The joyous dreams of youth and love long past, 
 Too much of Heaven in their themes to last. 
 
 The world must still be Eden that could give 
 Such fascinating forms to breathe and live ! 
 Yet, such there must have lived, ere Art could cheat 
 Our wandering eyes with such a counterfeit. 
 
 The Cyprian sculptor's glory was displayed 
 In carving from the block the marble maid ; 
 And Venus animated it with breath and life, 
 And bid the marble maid become a wife. 
 
 And he who drew the outlines of that face 
 Created that which time can not efface ; 
 But which will live and dwell within the mind, 
 Till we leave time and all the world behind. 
 
 -71 :.^-^^: ^ 
 
Poems on Various Subjects. 195 
 
 VANITY. 
 
 3UycOW frail are human ties ! 
 
 ^" A feeble knot, 
 
 And beauty's sparkling eyes 
 
 Time will out blot, 
 As water soft will wear 
 
 The hardest stone ; 
 Time will asunder tear 
 
 Hearts that were one, 
 
 Yet wonder not ! 
 The rooted tree will fall, 
 And death will level all : 
 
 Such is our lot. 
 
 Fleeting is mortal's love, 
 
 Passing away ; 
 Each new-born hour will prove 
 
 Hearts are but clay ! 
 Affection's gushing eye 
 
 Forgets its tears. 
 Youth's idols are thrown by 
 
 In after years, 
 
 Yet marvel not ! 
 The morning marriage bell 
 May ring an evening knell : 
 
 Such is our lot ! 
 
196 PocfHs 071 Various Subjects. 
 
 Trust not the sun-lit sky 
 
 In morning hours, 
 Dark clouds come sailing by 
 
 And then comes showers 
 Tyrants will wear a smile 
 
 So bland and sweet ; 
 The earth is full of guile, 
 
 And cold deceit, 
 
 Yet sorrow not I 
 Night's sorrows may endure, 
 But morning joy is sure : 
 
 This is our lot ! 
 
 y( '. : K 
 
Poems on Vai'ioiis Subjects. 197 
 
 THE BIRTH OF THE RIVER. 
 
 AN AIJ.EGORY SUGGESTED BY A VISIT TO THE SEVEN SPRINGS, 
 NEAR CHELTENHAM. 
 
 SAW the waters, like a giant's sweat, 
 Oozing in crystal globules from the rocks, 
 That formed the mountains' brows; more wet and wet 
 
 Became the perspiration from the blocks ; 
 The aggregated drops then trickling fell 
 
 (As though the wand of Moses had been there,) 
 On the cold bosom of the mountain well. 
 Blue as the skies — transparent as the air. - 
 
 I saw a new-born river then receive 
 
 The offering of the rill as it rolled past, 
 And mountain streams the silvery lakes did leave, 
 
 And lowland brooks with tribute hurried past ; 
 And dowried thus, she went to wed the sea 
 
 With all her retinue — in watery pride, 
 And there they met in equal majesty, 
 
 The ocean bridegroom and the river bride. 
 
 ^ ' K 
 
198 Poems oil Various Subjects. 
 
 I saw pale genius Avhoni the world did spurn, 
 
 (Light in her eye, though shadowed with despair) 
 Climbing Parnassus with her empty urn, 
 
 Hoping to fill it with the waters there. 
 Gathering the very dew-tears thereon slied I 
 
 Waiting for tricklings from the melting snow, 
 Seeking the stream beds by the fountain fed, 
 
 And then I saw her vessel overflow. 
 
 And with her liquid treasures forth she went, 
 
 Casting the drops like Hermon's dew around I 
 And then a glory to the waste was lent — 
 
 The sterile desert was made holy ground : 
 When on the wilderness the drops would fall. 
 
 Fair scented flowers started into birth ! 
 With bays and laurels, asphodels so tall. 
 
 The bowers of Eden, on the barren earth. 
 
 "n \ K 
 
;^ 
 
 
 K 
 
 
 Poems on Various Subjects. 
 
 199 
 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 
 
 SPHERE is rest for the weary, 
 -^ When his troubles are o'er, 
 
 
 
 
 
 The sad and the dreary 
 
 
 
 Shall languish no more. 
 
 
 
 Hope will not be blighted, 
 
 
 
 And joy will not flee, 
 
 
 
 Love will not be slighted, 
 
 
 
 Where all love is free. 
 
 
 
 Go say to the ocean 
 
 
 • 
 
 " Peace, peace, and be still," 
 
 
 
 Let there be no motion, 
 
 
 
 Faith gives thee thy will ; 
 
 
 
 But bind not the spirit 
 
 
 
 That strives to be free, 
 
 
 
 But let it inherit . 
 
 
 
 Its own destiny. 
 
 
 
 When the frail breath is fleeting 
 
 
 
 From those whom we love, 
 
 
 
 Hope points to the meeting 
 
 
 
 In regions above ; 
 
 
 
 And sweet smiles of gladness 
 
 
 
 Will welcome him forth, 
 
 
 
 Whose lot has been sadness. 
 
 
 
 And sorrow on earth. 
 
 
 -n ^ _K 
 
i 200 Poems on Various Subjects. ' \ 
 
 In gloom and in sadness 
 
 The heart sinks dismayed, 
 But the sweet voice of gladness 
 
 Cries, " be not afraid ;" 
 Though dark clouds give warning 
 
 There are storms passing by, 
 Joy comes in the morning, 
 
 Our hope is on high. 
 
 >?_ - ______ — — ^ 
 
M"~ i^ 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Alone ! Alone ! 84 
 
 An Address to the Welsh Bards 106 
 
 A Petition 165 
 
 Autumn Evenings 88 
 
 Circumstances Alter Cases 136 
 
 Confidence in God 192 
 
 Day vSpirits ' • • • 95 
 
 Deception 92 
 
 Dissimulation 153 
 
 False Delicacy 76 
 
 For the Blank Leaf of a Phoiographic Album . 9 
 
 Friendship 8 
 
 Humility 146 
 
 I Saw the Waters Glidinc; 186 
 
 Linf;s Suggested hy Visiting the Cromlech, or 
 
 Druidical Altar 4 
 
 Lines to Lnez Isabel de Coursey 67 
 
 Loneliness. 11 
 
 Loneliness of Heart • 122 
 
 Ludlow 126 
 
 y^ ^ : ^ K 
 
^ ^ 
 
 20 2 Contents. 
 
 Page 
 Ludlow, as Seen from a J)isian(e 129 
 
 Melancholy Musings 181 
 
 Mountain Flowers 130 
 
 Nobody To Love 172 
 
 On a Dying Child S]N(;]N(; a Hymn 68 
 
 On Finding the Body of a Female i.\ Male Attfre 
 
 on the Battle-Field . , 65 
 
 On Hearing a Youni; Lady Sixcr " The Angel's 
 
 Whisper " 74 
 
 Reflection on a Visit to Wigmore Hall, nr. Ludlow 115 
 
 Remembrance 59 
 
 Remembrance 144 
 
 Snowdonia 109 
 
 Solitude and Silence 167 
 
 Songs of Our Early Days 57 
 
 vSoNNET — "I Listened to the Wild and Mellow Note." i 
 
 Speciality 24 
 
 Stanzas— "As One who. Doomed to Die, Lifis ui- 
 
 His Eyes" 184 
 
 Stanzas for Music 55 
 
 Stanzas — "I've Seen the Light of Other Eyes" . 15 
 
 wStanzas— " I Would I were a Dweller 'neath those 
 
 Skies" "193 
 
 Stanzas — " O, Live Not for the Day Alone" '. . 53 
 
 Stanzas — "Say Do You Not Remember?" .... 104 
 
 Stanzas — "The Night is Calm, a?:d I Will (io" . . 81 
 
 71 . K 
 
^ ^^__ ^ ^ 
 
 Cofitents, 
 
 20- 
 
 Page 
 Stanzas — "Tifkrp: is Rest for tiik Wkakv •' . . . 199 
 
 Stanzas— " Thkv Told Me That She Was a Hkide" . 31 
 
 Stanzas— "Thou, Whom Before the Nations Plead'' 41 
 
 The Altered One 72 
 
 The Bells of the Heart 3 
 
 The Bench by the Wali 157 
 
 The Birth of the River 197 
 
 The Chained Bible 46 
 
 The Comet 61 
 
 The Disc 49 
 
 The Doves of War 188 
 
 The PYower of the Grass m 
 
 The Garden in Winter 155 
 
 The Gilliflower 25 
 
 The Glowworm ~. . . 2 
 
 "The Heavens Declare THE Glory OF God." • ■■ 33 
 
 The Homage of the Heart 102 
 
 The Name ox the Tree. 37 
 
 The Old Hawthorn Tree 133 
 
 The Once Happy Heart 163 
 
 The Queen OF Peace and THE King OF Te:rrors . . 139 
 
 The Sculpture Gallery 175 
 
 The Settlers 118 
 
 The Swallows 160 
 
 "The Voice of the Turtle is Heard in Our Land " . 98 
 
 71— ^ 
 
:^ 
 
 204 
 
 Contents. 
 
 K 
 
 Page 
 The Waterfall 17 
 
 There is a Sound of Rain 179 
 
 Things Are Not Always What They Seem . . 79 
 
 Thoughts on the Stars 42 
 
 To A Young Lady on Attaining her Twenty-First 
 
 Year 113 
 
 Twilight 27 
 
 Vanity 195 
 
 -n 
 
 K 
 
;^ i«; 
 
 ERRATA 
 
 First page of Sketch. — "Coxeval Knowi" should read '''' Cox7nal- 
 Knowl." 
 
 Thirteenth page of Sketch. — For "science," read '"'• plants.'''' 
 
 Page I. — For "I listened to the mild and mellow," read '■^wild.'"' 
 
 ,, I. — For "Bearing their rugged bosoms," read '■^ Bar ing.'' 
 
 ,, 4. —For " Plas Newrydd, " read '■'■ Plas-Newydd.'''' 
 
 „ 45 (last line). — For "And brought the sun and moon birth," 
 read *'/(? birth." 
 
 ,, 50 (last line of fourth verse). — P^or *' Where breakers roam," 
 read " where breakers roary 
 
 „ 63 (last line of seventh verse). — For "Orion and Pleiades," 
 read "Orion and fAc Pleiades." 
 
 '^ ^^j^ /^ c^**-t^ '':?^5^ 6^^-***^ ^^^^^'•^ t2^Uy„^^„^j^ 
 
 >? — : L_J? 
 
U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
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