■^t^nW' iiii^^^- THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ■rJ^^^^/^^- POEMS BY THOMAS JOHN OUSELEY, L N D K : . SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & Co., Statioxers' Hall Coukt. ISLE OF MAN : MATTHEW GLOVER, XORTH QUAY, DOUGLAS. 1870. Entered at Stationers' Hall. PIUNTED BY MAITIIKV (iT.OVKli, 7)2, NOKTII QUAY, AND NEW BOND STREET, UOLUI.AS, ISLE OK MAN. c^^3 All PEEFACE. The Poems in this book rauge over nearly forty years. Some of tlieni have gone through four editions, and many have appeared in the Magazines of the day at the time they were written. The Englisli Melodies ; Songs for the People ; and Carols for Christmas and the New Year, are now, for the first time, imblished in a collected form. The whole volume has been written during the author's connection with journalism ; amidst much mental toil, and the Aacissitudes of fortune. Probably this is his last work, and he would, therefore, claim for it the kind indulgence of his readers. THIS BOOK IS INSCEIBED BY ITS AUTHOR TO CHAELES DICKENS, AS A TOKEN OF SINCEEE REGAED For one, whose prose is the poetry of the Heart. Who has made us feel a more holy appreciation of that which is good. Who has, like "The Great Master," taken little children to his bosom, and made them the theme of his loving nature, and transcendent genius. Who has, truthfully, taught the wealthy, and wise, that the poor, and ignorant, are their equals iu aifection, and integrity. Who has " held the mirror up to nature ; shown vice her own feature ; scorn her ovra image ; and the very age and body of the time its form and pressure;" and who has given new impulses to humanity by his heart searching pathos, and rich, quaint humour. The Novelist of the Hearth ; the beloved of all who have read, and pondered over, liis enduring works. God Bless Ilim ! ERRATA. For "intervene" p. 66, v. 28, read " interweave." For " g height" p. 187, v. 4, read " giddy height." For " subsistance " p. 272, v. 2, read "subsistence." CONTENTS. SACRED POEMS. page. A Vision of Death's Destruction ... ... ... 3 The Creation ... . . ... ... ... 18 The Sabbath ... ... ... ... ... ... 26 The Last Man ... . . ... ... ... 33 The Merciful Reproof ... ... ... ... ... 36 The Passover ... ... ... ... ... 38 The Bible ... ... ... ... ... ... 41 The Well of Life ... ... ... ... ... 43 The Crucifixion ... ... ... ... ... 45 The New Year ... ... ... ... ... 46 mona's isle. Douglas... ... ... ... ... ... ... 51 Castletown ... ... ... ... ... ... 61 Peel ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 68 Ramsey ... ... ... ... ... ... 75 Ancient Manners and Customs ... ... ... ... 83 The Druids ... ... ... ... ... ... 89 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. My Mother ... ... ... ... ... ... 95 Life, what is Life ? ... ... ... ... ... 96 A Dream of the Fairies on the Banks of the Severn ... ... 98 The Angel of the Flowers ... ... ... ... 103 Poets ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 104 The Mutability of Love ... ... ... ... 105 The Seasons of Life ... ... ... ... ... 106 Welcome to Autumn ... ... ... ... ... 108 A Reverie ... ... ... ... ... ... 109 Youth, the Fountain, and Age .. . ... ... ... 110 The Dream of the Dying Girl ... ... ... ... 112 Lichfield Cathedral, and Chantrey's Sleeping Children ... 115 CONTENTS. PAGE. Water 117 Old Dreams ... ... ... ... ... ... 119 Pride and Glory ... ... ... ... ... ... 120 The Gipsy's Warning ... ... ... ... ... 121 The Giaour ... ... ... ... ... ... 122 Do I Forget Thee ? 123 Dirge on S. T. Coleridge ... ... ... ... ... 124 The latter Season ... ... ... ... ... 125 A Dirge 126 Canova's Magdalene ... ... ... ... ... 127 The Emigrant's Farewell to Ireland ... ... ... 128 Stanza to the Hon. Miss — ... ... ... ... 128 The Only ChHd 129 Hebe 132 The Faith Trial ... ... ... ... ... ... 133 The Repentant .. ... ... ... ... 135 The Old Man's Love ... ... ... ... ••■ 136 The Widow and her Child ... ... ... ... 136 The Solitary Cell 137 The Unforgiven One ... ... ... ... ••• 138 Solitude 139 AVhat are the Sweetes Flowers? ... ... ... 140 The Dawn of Genius ... ... •■. ... ••• 141 The Childless Widow ... ... ... ... ... 143 To my Mother on her 68th Birthday ... ... ... 144 TheMagdelcne ... ... ... ... ■.• 145 Changes ... ... ... •• •■• ••• 1^7 Evening Hours ... ... ... ■. ••■ 148 The Poetess ... ... ... ■• •.• ■•• 149 The Flower Gift ... ... ... ... ••• 150 We soon Forget the Dead ... ... ... ... ••• 151 The Heart ... ... .• •■• ••• 152 Song of the Earth to the Moon ... ... ... ... 153 The Spartan Mother's Address ... ... ... 154 The Sea Breeze ... ■■. .. ■• ••• — 155 My Father's Portrait ... ... ... .• •■■ 156 The Bride's Departure ... ... .• •.. ••• 157 The Pitcher Plant ... ... ... ••• ••• 158 The Sabbath Day 159 The Last of the Brigands ... ... .• •.• 160 The Vale of Llangollen ... ... ... ••• .■ 1^3 Thoughts 1^ CONTEXTS. xi PAGE. The Mother's Lament ••• ••• ••• )•• ... 167 Last Words ... > • • > • • • • • 1G8 WaU not the Dead ••• •■■ ••• ••• ... 169 To my Daughters ■ . • ... ... 170 Wherefore should' st Thou Remember me ? ... ... 171 The Evening Star . . • • • • t • • 172 Autumnal Trees ... ... ,,, ,,, ^,, ... 173 Heaven is Life 174 The Voice of Night ... 175 Eyes 17G The Dead Betrothed ... 177 Church Bells ... ... ... 178 The Dead War Horse ... 180 Stanzas — A Daisy on a Grave ... 181 Wisdom ... 182 The Wedding Ring ... ... . t • . . • 183 Canzonet ... 183 The Emblem... 184 The Bride ... 185 The Power of Gold ... 187 To an Infant Sleeping ... 188 The Moon Mirror 189 Hearts and Eyes ... ... 189 A Fragment ... 190 Silence and Night ... ... ... _^^ ... 191 The Leaf and the Stem 192 What is Poesie ? ... ... 193 My Mother's Voice 19G A Word for the Slave ... 197 Grey Hairs 199 Wellington's Death ... 199 The Dying Child 201 Castles in the Air ... 203 Look back to Childhood's Happy Days ... 204 The Happy Season ... 205 Don't Care 20G Flowers on a Grave ... 207 To Edward Kenealy ... 207 What though Age o'ertake Thee ... 208 The Penitentiary ... 209 Household Words ... , , , , . . . . ^ ... 210 We all may do Good if w€ Try... 211 xii CONTENTS. P.\GE. The Good Spirit ... ... 212 The Lost Loved One ... 213 Mother, Thy Nnine is Holier Far ... ... 214 To Ada Boston 214 Stanzas To ... 215 The Question... 216 Love that Dieth Not ... 217 FaUibility ... 217 The Storm ... 218 The Sea 218 There's a Season for All ... ... 219 Aberystwith Ca.stle 220 The Noon of Xight ... 222 The Angel of Spring ... 223 Forgive and Forget ... 224 The Lone One 225 The Burial of Wellington ... ... 226 Nature and Man 227 All for the Best ... ... 228 The Slave 229 The Season, Hour, and Place for Death ... 230 The Quiet Hour 231 The Grave of Shakspere ... ... 232 July 234 Sing On ... ... 235 Voices from the Shore and the Sea 236 Stars of the Night ... 237 He never made his Mother Smile 238 The Young Mother ... 239 Sonnets t>j the Right Honourable B. Disraeli, M.P. 240 Look Back ... 241 Adam and the Flower 241 Drowned and not Found .. ... 242 Stanzas 243 Spring Time ... 244 The Dead Child 245 In Memory of ... 246 The Angel and the Child 247 The Reproof ... 2^18 Wher.Hs the Poet's Grave ? ... 249 Good Thoughts ... ... 249 Miss Vandenhor8"l8olina" ... 250 CONTENTS. PAGE. Sweet May is Coming ... ... ... ... ... 251 Kind Words ... ... ... ... ... ... 252 lanthe ... ... ... ... ... ... 253 August ... ... ... ... ... ... 254 In Mcmoriara — The Criniea ... ... ... ... 2.55 To an Old Mirror ... ... ... ... ... 256 The Dead Girl ... ... ... ... ... ... 257 Love and Ambition ... ... ... ... ... 258 Kenealey ... ... ... ... ... ... 260 Song of Spring ... ... ... ... ... 261 Baby Trifles ... ... ... ... ... ... 2C2 The Dear Old Home ... ... ... ... ... . 265 ToMy Daughter ... ... ... ... ... ... 267 A Midsummer Reverie ... ... ... ... 268 Sonnets to the Poets ... ... ... ... ... 269 Midsummer ... ... ... ... ... ... 270 The Forsaken ... ... ... ... ... ... 271 What all Work for ... ... ... ... ... 272 Summer Dreamings ... ... ... ... ... 273 Burns' Centenary ... ... ... ... ... 278 In Memoriam ... ... ... ... ... ... 282 Mary ... ... ... ... ... ... 283 Inkerman ... ... ... ... ... ... 284 Stanzas To ... ... ... ... ... 285 In Memoriam — Havelock ... ... ... ... ... 286 Think of Me ... ... ... ... ... ... 287 Wisdom in Trifles... ... ... ... ... ... 288 To Italy ... ... ... ... ... ... 289 Prose Epitaphs for the Poets ... ... ... ... 290 ENGLISH MELODIES. TheEeproof ... ... ... ... ... ... 295 Sing the Old Song Again ... ... ... ... ... 296 Think of Me in the Silent Hours ... ... ... 297 Do ye unto others, &c. ... ... ... ... ... 298 Thou art Present to me Ever ... ... ... ... 298 Ever, ever, near Thee ... ... ... ... ... 299 A Smile is not ever, the Herald of Joy ... ... ?.. 299 Serenade... ... ... ... ... ... ... 300 Youth's Sunny D.ays ... ... ... ... ... 300 Come where the Silver Star Swims... ... ... ... 301 The Heart that can Love without Passion ... ... 301 CONTENTS. PAGE. Mine Own Dear Maud ... ... ... ... ... 302 The Past ■" 303 Come banish love, banish the sadness ... ... ... 303 The Coast of Merrie England ... ... ... ... 304 The Pride of Merrie England ... ... ... ... 305 There are Feelings, — Oh Sweet Feelings ... ... 306 I Love Thee, Dearest ... ... ... ... ... 307 The Light that Plays within Thine Eyes ... ... 307 Ever Thine ... ... ... ... ... ... 308 Light be thy Slumber ... ... ... ... ... 308 Thou art Present to me ever ... ... ... ... 309 To breathe, beloved, the air you breathe ... ... 309 When we think of the Past ... ... ... ... 310 For Pleasure we've met ... ... ... ... 310 Nevermore, — oh never ... ... ... ... ... 3H The Morning Sunbeams kiss the Hill ... ... ... 311 The Troth at Laxcy Wheel ... ... ... ... 312 i)oubt me, love, never... ... ... ... ... 312 Speak to me with thine eyes, love ... ... ... ... 313 There is music in the wildwood ... ... ... 313 Oh, what are songs of love to me ? ... ... ... ... 314 Many, many years, love ... ... ... ... 315 The blush on thy cheek ... ... ... ... __ 315 Think of me, dearest ... ... ... ... ... 3ig The Sea Rover ... ... ... ... ... __ 3^7 The Ocean Gem ... ... ... ... ... 3^8 I think, love, of thee ... ... ... ... ... 3^9 The May! the May! ... ... ... ... ... 320 The Farewell ... ... ... ... ... .._ 321 The flower is sweetest on the stem ... ... ... 321 Ob, think ye because I possess not the grace... ... ... 322 Ballad — Mavournecn ... ... ... ... ._. 323 Oh, say dost thou love me ? ... ... ... ... 323 A Bacchanalian ... ... ... ... ._ 324 The Eing that she gave ... ... ... _ 324 SONGS FOR THE PEOPLE. The Poor Man's need ifl urgent . . ... ... ... 327 Labour is Wealth ... ... ... ... ... 323 Duties, and Rights ... ... ... ... ... 309 Onward, — Ilope Onward ... ... ... ... . 339 CONTENTS. XV Heart, Poctet, and Hand The Worth of Man The Day is not far Distant Jolly Companions ... Never Despair The Claims of Labour A Good Name, deserved, is a Prize One Glass More ... The Dignity of Labour Would you Liberty Obtain The Working Man Matter and Mind .. . All may be Happy PAGE. 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 340 341 342 343 344 CAROLS FOR CHRISTMAS, AND THE NEW YEAR. Christmas ... ... ... ... ... ... 347 Old Christmas ... ... ... ... ... 348 Happy Christmas ... ... ... ... ... ... 349 Christmas Eve ... ... ... ... ... 350 Christmas Stars ... ... ... ... ... ... 351 Christmas Greetings ... ... • ... ... ... 352 Christmas after the battle ... ... ... ... ... 353 Christmas ... ... ... ... ... ... 354 New Year's Eve ... ... ... ... ... ... 355 A Happy New Year ... ... ... ... ... 357 The New Year ... ... ... ... ... ... 358 The New Year ... ... ... ... ... 360 The Old Year ... ... ... ... ... ... 361 The Old Year... ... ... ... 362 Think of the Poor .. ... ... ... ... ... 363 Found Dead ... ... ... ... ... ... 364 Song of Winter ... ... ... ... ... ... 366 Remember the Poor ... ... ... ... ... 367 Listen a Moment .. . ... ... ... ... ... 368 "And I looked, and behold a pale horse; and his name that sat on him was Death, amd Hell followed u-ith him : and power was rjiven wnto them, over the fov/rthpart of the earth to kill with sword, and with hunger, and with O^eaih, and with the beasts of the earth." — Eevelation vi. 8. A VISION OF DEATH'S DESTRUCTIO.V. Methought I saw tlie monster Death stalk forth Amid all things that live in this sad world ; Chunicleon-like, he did so often change, That none were guarded for liis coming hour ; And heing reckless of his withering touch, Were struck when least expecting. Then meihought, I saw him leaning o'er a fair young girl. Showing Consumption where to trace its course ; Which, like the serpent hid beneath the flower, Took so secure a seat within her heart, That little did she di-eani Death was so nigh ; But smding, with the rose-hue on her cheek. Seemed as though life was revelling in its prime. By her there sat a Being, whose worn face. Shewed nights of watching ; and methought he spate, On bended knees, \\dth looks of agony. And thus addressed the murderer of his peace : " Strike not another blow on this white head, " Thou hast ta'eu all, save one, dear, only child ; " She is the comfort of my ebbiug hfe, " All, all, have shrunk like flowers within thy grasp, "And would' st thou pluck that Hly from my hand, " The only flower my wint'ry year has left ? " Oh, spare for mercy ! look at her young eyes " Beaming vnth filial love : on my grey head, " Whose palsied movements, and whose bitter tears, " Coursing their passage down my furrowed cheeks, " Should plead Uke angels' tongues to make thee stay " Thy hand from this foul deed ! If thou must strike, " Let me partake the stroke that slays my lamb." Death paused, a brighter glow came o'er her face, And her eye shone with more than mortal light ; 'Twas Faith, and Hope, and Love that gHstened there. The father thought his prayer was not in vain. But oh ! how blind is sight of mortal eye : No sooner had he pressed her to his heart, Than all was silent ! — Death had done his work : Methought the monster smiled — and then, intent On other deeds of agonising woe, Departed. A VISION OF DEATH S DESa-RUCTION. The Sjiirit of my Dream tlien led me on To where the ehiiis of battle-fray was heard, Where drum and trumpet echoed throui,'h my brain, With shrieks, and cries of victory, and death, AVliile the wild war horse, rider-less, i-ush'd forth, Trampling aUke o'er dying and the dead ! The groans of agt)ny that rent the air. The oaths of blasphemy that struck my ear, The pi-ayers of those whose homes were far away. Of fathers for their children ; husbands, wives ; Sounded as though black hell had broke its chain, And desolation swept the very earth. But oh, one shriek did strike me more than all ; It was a voice so strong, and yet so sweet. Pleading -n-ith Death to hold his bloody hand ; But the hjird tjTant would not hear her sigh ; A voice of agony sent up to heaven. Calling on Him whose love is chastisement. To send His aid of comfort to her soul : A widow's prayer of wretched misery ! I saw her as she knelt and wept by him. Who had to her been all the world held dear ; For there the gallant soldier gave his breath. To glory, honour, and his country's fame : I saw her place her first-bom by his side, His look of peace shed comfort o'er her soul ; But oh, that face would never beam again, Those lips to her's would never more be press* d. Those arms on which her head so oft had lain. Were cold and helpless ; one hand grasp'd a sword, Whose bloody-broken point did plainly tell How he had dealt destruction on the foe. The cry of Husband ! met with no response : She knelt, indeed, alone ; save but to Him Who is the Father of the fatherless ; And as she held her orphan up to heaven, Calling rm God to shield its innocence. All, all was hush'd ! nature seem'd wrapt in sleep ; 'I'lie held of war was silent as the grave, X.) noise, no breath, no motion, spoke of life: How awful was the silence of that hour ! And then methought I heard a murmuring sound, Like the soft-sighing of a summer's breeze ; I saw a dark spot moving through the air, And as it nearer came upin my sight. Millions of angi.'JH hovered o'er the earth. And with the wafting of their snowy wings. Blew such a gale, that heaven's vault was rent: A flood of light outdaz'd the golden sun : And then I saw a throne with, rainbows crown' d. Whereon the God of Mercy took his seat ; A VISIOX OF DEATH S DESTRUCTION. A robe of jrlory shut his face from view, 'Twas studded ^ith the countless stars of heaven, And the sweet music of unnumbered tongues, Singing ecstatic praise to him above, Floated along the vast Abyss of Space ; AV'hen, at a signal from his mighty arm, The widow's prayer was ushered to its home, The babe fell from her grasp in death's cold sleep, The mother's spii-it followed it to heaven. The Spii-it of my Dream still urged me on, To follow in the monster's murky track ; His iron breast was proof to misery, His ruthless step would never stay its pace. The lordly palace and the beggar's hut, The pauper's pallet, and the mat of straw, The gilded couch, and bed of softest down, Met no distinction from his equal hand. The tyrant laughed with thriUing ecstacy, Some new destructive thought had struck his mind ; Lo ! at the echo of his mighty voice. Which made the very earth beneath him shake, Spirits arose to serve him at command. And thus his incantation dark began : — God of Love, it is thy part, Ti) subdue a maiden's heart. Who has never felt thy power ; Make her stubborn bosom cower ! Teach her eye to weep, From its Ud take sleep ! Teach her breast to sigh, That 'twere bliss to die ! Let night to her be. As eternity ; And the day so bright. To her dark as night ! With thy stmg. Probe her heart ; Speed thy wing, Quick ! depart ! Now, Deception, hear my say. Steal that maiden's heart away; Tell her you are more than love, Swear it by the God above ! Let thy false heart wile, From her cheek a smile ; Let thy false lip speak, With an accent meek ! Use a cunning eye. And a deep-drawn sigh ; When you've done the deed. Her soft heart will bleed : A VISION OF DEATH S DESTKUCTIOX. Then forsake ; When she's won, Her heart break ; Haste ! begone ! No sooner was the mandate ushered forth, Thiin Love took wing towards a blest abode ; Where Paradise in miniature did stand, And there, reclining in a rosy bower, (Deception hidden 'neath his wily wing,) He waited for the coming of his prey. The victim came, in blushing imKjcence, With heart untainted, and with mind as pure As angels' thoughts on holy mission sent ; Her face and form, so fair, so beautiful : I could but weep that she had e'er been born. To be a sacrifice to deed so damned. There as she stood in all that sunny bower. No rose could vie or match her beautecjus cheek. Assuming form of man, Deception knelt, In humble attitude before the shriae ; Pouring such strains of magic in her ear, As ne'er were heard since paradise was lost; When the first Tempter sang of bliss to Eve ! Her eyelid quivered, as she faintly breathed, Her blood, a burning flood of lava grew. And rushing through her heart, stained a pure cheek. With mortal passion, and with mortal woe. She loved ! Oh, none but those who feel can tell, The misery that little word involves : Love is an April day, with sunny showers, For tears and love are mixed in one sad draught. And they who drink, must sip from sorrow's cup ! They loved ! at least she loved ! he spoke of love ; •She answered not, but with a deep-drawn sigh, From the sweet fountains of her inmost soul, Proclaimed her heart was stricken to its core. Ah ! little thought she of her coming doom, As the false .Judas kissed her trembling lip ; Ah ! litth; deemed she that so sweet a breath Was ijouring blight upon her hajjpiness ; But HO it was, he guined the object sought. And then forsook the poor heart-w(juuded dove. Lonely she pined, her mate had fled its nest. Whither she knew not ; and she watched in vain, The rise and setting of the glorious sun ! The night, the starshine, and the pensive moon, Thinking of him whose love to her was life ; While silent tears would steal adown her face : Sometimes a gleam of hope would light her eye, That he, at that same hour, might think of her ; Looking, like her, upon the orb of night : A VISION OF DEATH S DESTRUCTION. Then a dark cloud would gather o'er her brow, And deep Despair would wrestle with her life; When Hope and Faith had left her in his toil. One thought of him ; one Urni-set trust in heaven ; One sound, as calm as infant's breath in sleep ; And then she sank to bliss beyond the stars. The deed was done ! a yell of fiendish joy Declared the consummation of Death's wish, A broken heart lay iu his pui-j)]ed hand. On which the Fiend in exultation gazed. Quenching his eyes of fire with drops of blood ! The Spirit of my Dream then carried me To where the mind had lost its hold on man ; Where Reason had forsook her tenement, WhUst diving deep to seek poetic fire. Days, nights of study, all for paltry fame. Whose loudest trumpet-sound is but a breath That's wafted into nothingness by time ! ^Vhose yearnings sink to vanity and pride, E'en when the sternest need compels them on. I saw a Being thus, whose care-worn face, (Which ever and anon grew deadly pale,) Whose burning forehead, and whose fiery eyes, Betokened more or less of human weal. He started from a sUent reverie. Clanking his chains on high, with horrid laugh, Ajid cursing the Creator of his life. Then would he kneel him down, and pray, and weep, So humbly piteous, that an infant's moan Were mockery to his plea of misery. And then stand up a prophet, and jjour forth Language so fine, as almost to persuade Reason to wish for madness. And he looked Sublimely beautiful ; his jetty locks. Rivalling the raven's vsing ; his bold, bright eye Facing the sun, with more than eagle strength ; His attitiide a pictiire of command, Like Joshua when he stretched forth arm, Bidding the sun and moon to stay their course, Wbilst Israel's children smote the Amorites. But this prophetic fm-y lasted not ; Death, jealous that he could not slay the mind. Placed his cold hand upon that noble brow ; The maniac gave a shrill, con^-ulsive cry, A cry of joy, at his supposed success, To laiu'el crown and immortality ! But vrreaths of cypress with the bays were twined ; That tongue was palsied, ne'er to speak again ! That hand, which gave to thought a surer stay Than the poor flimsy fabric of a brain. Was clenched by Death, within those raven locks ! 1 A VISION OF death's DESTRUCTION, Hark ! hark ! I hear a most unearthly voice, Yet it is one of earth's in agony, Casting detiance to the god of heaven, One whom the world doth call an Atueist, Better an Idiot, for the fool alone Is blind to reason's hght. O, blasphemy, Why dost thou take thy course from human lips, And breathe damnation on mortahty 'i An oath — a curse — Omnipotence defied, The great Creator of the universe. Beneath whose throne, sun, moon, and stars, do shine In pitchy darkness, by His light eclipsed. Whose whisper is the thunder's loudest crash, ■yVhose eye, ah, who can e'er describe that eye. All seeing, though unseen ? "Who, with a look, Shoots forth his forked hghtnings on the blast, Eending the earth with quakes ; the sea with Hoods : At whose command, the Angel of Destruction Crusheth a world iato a formless wreck. Whose whisper is to cheer the drooping soul, With faith on Him who died to save mankind ; Whose eye looks down with mercy upon aU, Shedding its light to comfort human woe : Whose breath speaks pure forgiveness to the worm. That pleads for it, with earnestness of heart, Sending repentance to the throne of grace, Where mediation ne'er is made ra vain. Infatuate bUndness ! How can mortal man Look at the smallest thing that crawls on earth, Without acknowledging a Power Di\'iae 'i In the still night, watch thou the firmament, _ If thou canst count the stars that shine therein, If thou canst bid the moon to stay her light. If thou canst reach it even in thy thought. If thy conception can create a heaven. And if thy mind can work the universe, Then being more than man, thou may'st have doubt ; But when thy puny mind is overwhelmed With wonder and with awe ! when thy poor brain Is strained to bursting, to conceive a th(jught ! Then must thy heart respond, there is a God ! And fear and love must then encu-cle thee. He raved, there was no God ! yet God there was ! He strove to pray, yet oaths did check his speech ; He laughed in ecstasy ; and then he wept ; He dared death ! but yet he fear'd to die ; And then his eyes turn'd to an ashy pale ; Then would they change tf^ hvid balls of blood : His face, which once was fair to look upon. Looked bloated, black, envenomed hke his mmd ; And the rank steam, that left his maddened bram, Would trickle, cold as ice, adown his cheek. A VISION OF DEATH S DESTRUCTIOX. Oh, hoiTor! if thou hadst no other sight But dying man without a hope of bliss ; Thou'dst have enough to make the stoutest heart Quail with a chilly sense of misery. This was a merry pastime for the Fiend ; He tortured hun, but let him struggle on For hours upi.m the rack of agony. More bUssful far to linger ever thus, With the fond hope, repentance might avail, Than be cast off to an enduring life. Midst endless years of never-dying pain ! And then, methought I heard a voice in prayer, (Strong in its weakness, whispering its faith) ; Whilst angels hovered round a dying man, Fanning his mortal agony a\say, And with the glory of the Serax^him Lighting the weary spirit to its home. Death would have passed, unheedf ul of his pain, But the soft aspirations of true love For Him who shed His blood to save mankind ; From one who bore his rankling agony In meekly imitating that good God Who took our nature on his spotless soul, Rose to the glory of the highest heaven. And then methought a silence reigned above. When the great Book of Truth was opened wide, WTierein all good and evil deeds are writ ; And the benignant angel, Mercy, stood Upon the right hand of the throne of Him Who swayed the eternal spheres His breath had made ; And pleaded immortality of bliss, For him whose name was registered therein. Though born in sin, as one of Adam's sons. He had received, in infancy, the mark That linked him to the Saviour of the world : And from the upward course from manhood's state, Had, 'gainst the frailty that stains mortal things. Struggled with firmness to subdue the fiend Who lurks aljout to tempt the pure of heart. When left unguarded, by his subtle power. A child of duty to his earthly tribe, Blessing the age of those %vho watched his youth, A husband keeping faith in promises Sworn by him at the altar's sacred shrine ; A father fostering in liis children's hearts, Worship of Hun who reigns the God of all ; But yet a man of sorrow, no, of toil, For sorrow could not touch his cheerful heart : He knew it was decreed from the tii'st sin, That man should sweat and burden on the earth ; And with that load borne meekly on his back. 10 A VISION OF death's DESTRUCTION. ^V;llkcd Pteadtustly upon his duty's path, Till hoary TLine blew coldly ou his blood, And sat hiui down the gi-andsire of a race, Like to a patriarch of olden days : E'en then, his never-tiring spirit strove To exalt the pledge bestowed by God on man. Surrounded by a flock sprung from his loins, He preach'd the Word of Truth each rising sun, And with the sinking of its latest beam Knell do-mi in penitential prayer and love. The world might scoff! that unbelieving mass, Who feel not what their senses cannot touch ; Who trust alone to organs of decay. As though with them they sank to uothiagness ; Letting the soul lie dormant in her cell. Extinguishing the very light of life, "SVhich should throw lustre o'er the shroud of clay, That cases in the soul of heavenly birth. The world did scoff— the covenanted sects That look Avith piteous contempt on those Who will not follow their dogmatic track, Shook not the firmness of that withering man : He, like a sturdy oak, had braved the storm Of many winters -sdth adversity, And now that faith w as strengthened by ripe age, He did not fear to face the unkind blast : AU, he would faia believe, were Christian men That read the blessed book of holy writ ; Having the good Messiah for their trust, Howe'er they might fall off from that great tree. N(j soul to him was past salvation's hope ; He dared not question the Most High command, Nor judge, lest judgement should envelope him; But the conclusion of his deepest thoughts Was that the good, the just Omnipotent, Would shew His mercy whereso'er He would. And then, methought the blood shed by the Lamb, Fell as a tear drop on the Book of Life, And bltjtted out those sins entailed on him, "When he first wailed his advent to the earth. The dying Christian feared not Death's approach. But with a soft sweet smile received the boon. That made immortal the mortaUty. He Hto(jd before the presence of his God, Clad in the vesture of immortal life, I'uro from all earthly stain and earthly care : The face of Him \vhom man yet never saw, Shone on the faithful servant of his trust. And mards The name and virtues of some loved one gone. No organ peal is heard, but simple strains From flute or viol, touched by rustic hand. Leads the uncultured choir. sweetest praise Is that which flows from hearts, howe'er untuned By skill in melody, to please the ear. The very fields seem sacred ; and the trees Scarce move their branches, as instinct with sense, Fearful to break the calmness of the scene. The cattle silent browse, or lay them down In undistvirbed content : — No sound is heard Save the low trilUngs of the feathered choir. Whose songs betoken happiness serene. Visit the City : — all the busy hum Of human traffic, and the eager strife 28 ■ THE SABHATH. For Mammon's favours now is hushed. No voice Grates on the ear ; each glittering mart is closed, The once o'er-crovided streets t'orsalcen are, And scarce the echo of a step is heard. High, massive buildings stand in cold repose, As thoiigh the very stones were wrapped in sleep : The lofty spires seem looking to the sky, Pointing the way to heaven, whose cloudless vault Rests fathomless above us, its vast depth Tells of the power that formed it, and we feel Grateful for love Divine, and lift our hearts Yearning to Giid, and seek him in the skies. Anon irom. every steeple tower rings out Joy for the Sabbath ! whilst the multitude Pour forth from every house, and in brief time Thousands of voices join in solemn prayer. Or sing sweet hymns of praise for mercies shewn, And plead for future blessings. Sabliath days, To those who keep them holy, bring delight More exquisite than transient mortal joys ; The more we taste, the more the eager soul Longs for its sustenauce^nor ever palls The api^etite, with manna scut from heaven. Reverse the picture ! oh that e'er reversed Such bliss should be ! Go to the scorner's home. Wherein ne'er enters the calm step of Truth ; Where h(jpe ne'er tarries, and where gentle Faith Holds not the cup of comfort to the lips Of sturdy unlx-lief : where Care and Want Crouch on the hearth ; and Indolence, with eyes Bent on vacuity, wears out the time, Deeming the precitjus hours too slow and dull : Or riotous Debauch, with frenzied mien, Passes rude jests, and with unhallowed tongue Profanes the day, draining the drunkard's cup To cheer the wretched moments as they fly. Yon Woman who, in rags, hangs o'er her babe, With wan and sunlcen cheeks, whose fevered breath Taints e'en the infant to her bosom jjressed. Whose eyes emit no ray of love or joy. Was, few years gone, a goodly virtuous maid, With ever-smiling face ; those eyes, now dim. Were wont to brighten mth affection's smile ; Tlie darling of her circle, the delight Of all the village, — an example too ; God-fearing in her every act of life. One Sabbath brolcen ! and the priceless chain Fell link by link, tiU shattered in the dust. Ne'er t<) regain its pristine beauty more. The man, the husband, murderer of her peace. The dealy Sahliath.— Lured by pleasvu-e's blaze, Moth-like," to the destruction of their souls, Riches ensnare the heart with svirer bonds, Spread by the hands of Vanity and Power, M ire than the strong temptations that surround The hapless child of Poverty. For much. Much greater is the crime where knowledge ripe Has smoothed the vway to Virtue ; where no need Breaks down the sjiirit, that cannot mthstand Temptation, urged 'by ignorance to sin. Those gilded flies of fortune, who eke out Their days in sloth, their nights in luxury, Those sl.ives to Fashion who make Self their God. And pandt-r to their appetites alone ; No thought beyond the present— every day The present to'thcir future— every joy Precursor but of other joys in store. Advise, admonish, urge with gentleness The unblest ones who earn their daily bread By J-acking laboui- ; whose o'er- wearied limbs T.'iil with their aching through the short repose That night brings to them.— Pity those east out To grope their way in darkness, whose rough minds Uncultured, yield no store to bless their age ; Strangers to Wisdom, and the flowery paths. That lead to Virtue, rarely formed for them : But those who know the good and evil fruit. Nursed in tlie lap of Peace, with Plenty crowned, Tutored in Godliness, yet froward stand. And mock the light cast o'er them ; aye, for tho.se What angel's v.jice shall plead at Mercy's throne? What gentle spirit may its eyes upraise And cry for pardon ? Those who duty spurned, Gave ail to pleasure, not one prayer to God; Who wait till age subdues the l)ody's lust, And CDunt on death-beds to ensure them peace ; Djath-b;jds, the Paradise of fools, who find, Too late, the Eden of their hope is lost. — For these what help ? Destroyer.^ of themselves ; Not of themselves alone but other siiuls. Led by example to Perdition's brink. The worth of man i.s in his weight of good ; Kings may ennoVjle and make proud our dust, Wealth bestows power, grandeur wins respect; Yet these are but as bubbles on the sea. That mount the wave a moment— and are gone ! The worth of man and true nobility, Lies in the heart, shrined from the vulgar gaze ; Its keeper, conscience ; its reward, content, Its crown immortal ; its bright home m heaven, THE SABBATH. 31 Greater than monarch's, greater than all time, It has no end, eternity its g(wl. It Uves when worlds expire, it never dies. How great a boon the SabVjath is to man ; Ordained to toil, the penalty of sin. One day of respite in the seven is given For peace and rest. — One day of sweet repose When man may hold, all undisturbed by strife, Converse with God ! When heaven gives audience To every soul's ambassador; for there The poorest wretch that crawls beneath the sky An entrance finds ; no form of precedence Withholds the beggar ; nor the rich one ranks Above his fellow mortal. — Faith alone. With humbleness, the eldest born of faith, Sutficieut passport. — Great the boon indeed, To stand, in spirit, face to face with God ; To feel Ilis jiresence ; to regain afresh Strength for the battle with the world and sin : Invulnerable armed, proof against death, They never die whose hopes are fixed in heaven ! The grave is but our journey's resting place. From which we rise refreshed and halt no more. Sabbaths are wings of Angels that upbear The weary hearted when they breathe new life, Casting their load of sorrcjw back on dust ; Sabbaths are sunbeams that burst on the gloom, When the world's tempest battles o'er our heads ; The beacons that point out the dangerous shore, Where sins, like sunken rocks, await to wreck The wandering bark, and drown us in despair. The child is precious to a parent's heart, Wealth has its votaries in every clime, Power is a meed to wliich Mankind aspire, Love has its blissful moments. Youth its bloom. Fame, the bright goal for which men strive, and bum The midnight oU, and sweat the struggling brain ; Attractions these of life ; yet all will fade, Ai-e unsubstantial as a passing thought, And melt away like vapour into ah". But Sabbaths never perish, they sui-vive In heaven's record, 'fore the throne of God. Keep holy, then, the Sabbath ; weigh each thought, Weigh well each word thou speakest, turn thine heart Meekly to God, search deep His blessed Book, Pray earnestly for gi-ace to understand His word, when read, go constant to His house ; At home, within your chamber, ponder o'er His truths expounded. When you walk abroad, See Him in everything. The smallest flower, The tiny blade of grass, the massive tree. The mountain and the stream, each insect, bird, Each cloudlet, and the myriad pendant worlds 32 THE SAHHATH. Shining upon the night, proclaim aloud, The greatness and the goodness of the Lord ! lu youth, in age, iu sickness, and in health, In poverty, with richo;*, moi'n and eve, Praise the Omuixiotcnt ! Prize every hour, Strive to make all days Sahbaths, and resolve, AVitli heai-t, and soul, t'obey the great command, " Thou shalt keep holy God's appointed Day '." Thanks be to God, That He to poor and lowly mmds has shewn Exceeding gi-ace ; drawn many to the light Of the pure Gospel ; and by humble means, Humble as the Disciples of His Son, liaised up iu Britain such a Sabbath heart As shall spread o'er this highly favour' d land, Peace, the world kuoweth not. From Scotia's hills Resoimds the much-loved name of Henderson ! Great champion of the Sabbath ; — much to thee Om- nation's debt ; aye, much to thee in store. When the Great Day dawns on a sinful world. Thy Sabbath Prizes shall be priceless gems Set in a crown of glory on thy brow By Him who gave the Sabbath to our race. The Poet's, Warricjr's, and Stateman's fame. Thou hast eclipsed, thine honoui'ed name shall live, AVlien marble monuments resolve to dust ; Live in the heart of labour, live whilst man Knows God and serves Him. Thousands now proclaim The blessings thou hast sent them ; thousands pray That God may bless thee for their soul's release : He has shewn wisdom to the poor through thee, True wisdom that has birth in Sabbaths blest By man's obedience. Hold fast to the faith, Hold with a death-grasp, — let no single day Pass without gratitude for mercies sent. AU who do this — have founded on a rock, A tower of refuge reaching to the skies, Which they shall climb iu safety, and find rest In one eternal Sabbath ! i THE LAST MAN. A FRAGMENT. "And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and lo, there xoas a great eartliquake ; and the sun beca/me black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood. — Revelations vi. 12. He laughed ! he shrieked, he'groaned, he called on man, But no voice answered him : — he called on heaven, The thunder made response ! — and its weak tone Seemed but a mockery of sound, and died — He stood upon a mountain, whose steep height Could whisper to the clouds ; but all was vain : He lay him down, exhausted ; nature moaned, As„ though the agonies of death were wrapt Around his shrivelled form, shrouding his pain. Earth trembled, and belched forth her flaming fire, Volcanoes ht where sun-light was denied ; And the poor shivering moon lay deep entranced !^ The eagle, wheeling low on heavy wing, Spoke with its powerless screech of misery. That prey was preyless. It's bold eye was'dim. And dare not face the sun, as it was wont : The wolf's howl floated faintly on the breeze. And could n(3t cater for its craving maw. — He called on Death ; the monster only smiled, And Justice stopped the breath to Mercy sent. He prayed, blasphemed. His prayer and oath were vain, A sulphurous scent, a suffocating air. Shrouded his mocking. — The great earth was bare ; Naked as when created ;— and white stones Rolled from her rotten sides with hideous crash. — The flowers had faded, ne'er to bloom again ; The oaks of centuries, the pines of years, Lay in one common mass, a blasted heap ; Scathed by the hghtning, rended by the storm. — He strove to plunge into eternity. And fell down fathoms : but 'twas all in vain : D 3-1 THE LAST MAN. Ouc jutting' point, one crag that kept its hold, Though tottering to fall, upheld his life ; He hung 'tnixt sea and air, — 'twixt earth and heaven. He fell ! — tlio waters caught him but to save. Stagnant, and covered o'er with putrid mass. Of the great imnates from the yawning sea, He was upheld. — He strove, but could not sink ! He rose, and walked to earth, to find a grave. Earth was one grave, but teuantless and lone : White bleached bones lay crumbled into dust : A vulture stood upon a fleshless skull ; And when a worm ci'awled from its slimy hold, It could not strike — famine had mastered it. — He knelt hira down. The Sun wept blood on earth — The Moon had lost its power to madden him. ; Yet he was mad, despair had seized his heart. The Moon was sick, and spumed water forth. In rank black torrents ; her life's blood was chilled ! He stood alone, sweat curdling on his brow. And his dank hair hung down in clotted lumps : Alone ! alone ! oh, horror-touching thought ; Immortal, though 'midst death.— The Hon roared ; The forest echoed his rage in vain. It was too weak to pierce the dun thick air ; Ho crawled to life, he scented Hving man, And would not die alone where life did breathe. The tiger passed him by, and the thick throng Of beasts of blood, and birds of fleshy prey, Grathered around the lone one and the Last ! The bones jn'otruding thi-ough their pining skins, With panting tongues, whose surface parched and black, Sucked in the poisonous air to slake their thirst ; With hideous whine they raise their feeble heads, And looked compassion, but the look was vain ; Like the last ray of Hope when Mercy's gone, He was compassionless and helpless too. One fiercer than the rest, a lion that had crawled From out the wUdemess, raised his huge paw. And strove to strike, but nature failed the blow ; It was a mockery, deceiving hope. The laat one thought to die, and laughed vsdth joy ! Death had no terror to his living heU : Oh! 'twould have been a bliss to have been torn. And writhed, and mangled, in the maws of beasts : He would have plucked his heart from its retreat, And fed the monster, but was powerless ; And the poor brute, more blessed than he who lived, Guve one deep moan, and, straggling, sank to peace. — The carrion vulture tried to pluck his eyes. But 'twas as if a little murmuring rill Had struck a mountain, it so feebly fell Upon his starting balls of blood-shot sight. One dreadful groan and flutter spoke their doom ; I 4 THE LAST MAN. 35 'Twas over, and the lone one stood alone. Oh, agony ! Oh, horror ! Damned hour ! He shrieked ! again he raved ! he clenched the air ; And with his last, and maddened eflbrt, forced His Ixiny fiui,'ers through his withered hands ! — Death sighed with pity, and .grew merciful ; His heart-strings cracked ; the lone one gave a groan, His tongue swelled from his mouth, as though 'twere touched With aspic poison ! and the LAST jlan fell ! THE MERCIFUL REPROOF. At early mom witHn the temple sat, Surrounded by the people, One who taught. With the soft fervent eloquence of truth, The only way to everlasting life, God's Holy -word. The Scribes and Pharisees Entered the sacred place, and with them brought A woman, as in bonds — for some offence. And placed her in the midst, that all might see. She, guilty-stricken, with a blushing cheek, And panting bosom, veiled her lustrous eyes With the long silken lashes \\ hich drooped from Their smooth transparent lids, and threw a shade Of roseate hue upon her beauteous face. — He felt her presence, but He noted not That she was there. When presently they said, Thinking to tempt Him to transgress the law. That they might 'gainst Him accusation bring, " Master, this woman in adultery " Was found by us, e'en in the very act. " Moses commanded that such dreadful sin " Should punished be by stoning unto death ; " What sayest Thou ? " He heeded not their words, But stooping, vrrote a sometliing on the ground, In the dust, with His finger. They again Urged on the question, when He slowly rose, And looking on them with His eyes of thought, Which searched as with a ray of heavenly light Their inmost souls, with earnestness replied, " Let him among you that is without sin First cast a stone at her." He then again Stooped to the iSoor, and musingly wrote on. When His reflective mood was o'er. He turned, And there beheld the woman as at first, Right in the midst, alone : near Him she stood. For her accusers, one by one, had gone Out from the plaice, touched by His probing words. He gazed on her with tenderness. She ne'er Lifted the snowy curtains of her eyes. But mutely like a statue held herself. At length He spoke, and with mild accent said, " Woman, thou hadst accusers, where are they ? I i THE MERCIFUL REPKOOF. " Ilath no man yet condemned thee ?" With a sigh From her o'erladen breast, she answer made, Most sorrowfully, " No man, Lord." Then rose Her head from off her bosom, and looked up To Him, beseechingly ; — her humid eyes Met His, but shrank not back, for there she saw Hope and forgiveness, mercy and sweet love, A refuge from despair ; and then she felt The sacrifice accepted of a heart Contrite and humbled at her Saviour's feet. Lifting His hands above her drooping head, As in the act of blessing, thus He spake, " Neither do I condemn thee." And with voice, Like a fond parent to an erring child. Gave this injunction — " Go, and sin no more." THE PASSOVER. A FRAGMENT. i Oh ! dreadful was the wail that rent tlie air, When morning shone upon that awful night, Markiug the devastating angel's flight ; Whom the great God of Israel sent forth, To slay the " first-bom " of proud Egj'pt's sons. — From Pharaoh on his throne of tyi-anny, To the poor shackled wretch of grief and crime, The blow of retribution was dealt out. — Dread was indeed the cry of Egypt's king, As he lay mourning o'er the pallid corse Of what had been his hope, his pride, and love ; (If heart so hard could love, or dare to hope,) Deep was his grief ! — The cloth of 'broidered gold, The jewelled cup, the wine of purest draught. The sweet perfumes that rose from sweetest flowers, The softest melody that music speaks. When sent upon the breath from beauty's hps. Touched not the jjoiit-up sorrow of his soul ; But only served to shew his daring mind. How little bliss vain pomp, alone, can give ; That deep deception lurketh in the vine, Steahng the sense of drowning Reason's light. And though the sweet scent of the plants of earth May cheer the flagging spirit of dull hfe. And the soft music of a Syren's voice May rouse the sleeping heart to wakeful joy ; StiU, from the lovely flower poison creeps. And music oft-times rings the knell of hope. — Oh ! 'twas a court of splendid misery; Sackcloth shut out the light of heavenly day. And solemn torches lit the room of state, Gi\'ing each mournful face a ghastly glow : No voice of mirth, no sound of revelry. Echoed throughout the lofty marble halls ; Grief sat enthroned on the state of Pride : No stir was heard save groans of agony. That burst their bubbling current through the hearts Of mj-riads whose bosoms were bereft Of their fond oS'spring by that judgment stroke. THE PASSOVER. 39 That shewed Jeliovali's awful power o'er man, Strikiug foul desolation to the throat Of him, who dared to face the living God. — At last he spake, and sent his servants forth, To caJl the leaders of the IsraeUtes, That they might comfort speak unto his soul. Moses and Aaron came at his command, And death-like silence whispered to despair, As thus the humbled heart of Pharoah spake : — " Oh ! Men of Israel, take your people hence, " Let not a bondsman's footstep mark this land, " For sure the eye of God doth watch thy tribe ; " Oh, linger not, I pray thee, longer here ; " Your wives and children ! all that you possess, " Depart, nor light more curses on my head ; " Sorrow hath bowed me to the very dust. " Nay, I will give thee jewels — raiment — gold ! " But taiTy not, or death will sweep my race. ■ " Hence I beseech — speak to the Lord thy God, " And bless thy servant ere thou dost depart, " For he repenteth of his evil way !" He knelt most lowly to the men of God — A murmuring prayer of agony arose, Like to the distant thunder's wakening, When it sends warning of its rising ire : All joined in supplication with their king ; The captains of the host bent their proud necks. And Mercy ! Mercy ! sprang from every hp. An awful pause — gi"ief was too deep for words, Lethargic hon-or crept o'er every heart. All, all was still— Nature exhausted lay. Whilst, with an outstretched arm and solemn voice, That struck conviction with its sound of truth, The holy prophet, Moses, spake to him : — " The God of Israel is merciful ; " Humble thy hardened spirit to His will ; " Trust not to idols made of wood and stone, " That cannot hear or aid thy impious prayers ; " Nor to the beasts of earth, for they are made " Subject to man, fit for his use and help ; " Things bom with instinct — senseless, though alive — *' So dare not mock thy great Creator's power; " He is a jealous God ! beware his wrath, " And let repentance plead thy pardoning. " Should not the scourges thy hard heart hath caused, " The plagues that have so torn thy wretched land, " Have been a warning to thy reckless soul, "That thou should' st never tempt the God of heaven? " For no man liring can withstand His frown, " Or bear the fury of his kindled rage. "We will depart, and I will bless e'en thee, "And pray to Israel's God to turn thy heart." 40 THE PASSOVER. The great lawgiver blessed the abject king, And gathered his tribes to quit the land : — It was a glorious, a solemn sight, To see some hundred-thousand beings freed From the hard chains of toil and grijiing want, From hapless bondage, by th' Eternal hand : And, as the mass of living joy went forth, A shout of glory to the King of Kings Rang to the very topmost vault of heaven. Praising the God of mercy for his aid. Within the walls of great Rameses stood Unnumbered monuments of deep despair ; The howl of mourning shook the very earth ; For, ere another sun had set thereon, The Angel of Destruction's vdng was spread. Wafting dread ruin o'er that fated race ; Egypt was desolate ! THE BIBLE. Page of life, of light and truth ; Prop to age, and guide of youth ; Let me now thy leaves unfold, Precious more than gems or gold ; Read, and feel, thy prophet strain. Immortality to gain : — A\vf ul is thy mystery, Ope mine eyes thy Ught to see ; Ope mine heart thy truth to feel, To my soul thy bhss reveal : Man may err, and man may read, Wrongfully thy blessed creed ; Understanding may not pry. Through thy depths of prophecy, Yet the eager thirsty soul Draws Ufe from thy blessed scroll : Life immortal, lamp of joy j Li\'ing light without alloy, Passing with the cherubim. Far from sorrow, pain and sin : Creeds may differ, hearts may change, Sect, 'gainst sect, in anger range. Swords be drawn in vengeful fight, Persecution strive for might ; Though the Maker of thy law, First forbade the hand to draw Steel of enmity, to prove, Peacefulness of holy love. Thy command is " read and learn," Not thy feUow mortal spurn : Shall man his own judgment trust, Dare to judge his brother dust. And in anger on him tui'n. Who himself is but a worm ? Martyrs at the stake have burnt, Yet what lessons have we learnt ? Life is nought to those who fear Him who dries the mortal tear ; Pain can never change the heart Where His presence doth impart. E 42 THE BIBLE. Power above tlie sweat of death, Life beyond the fleeting breath ! From example let us learn, Man can never conscience turn. — Founder of the christian's creed. Thou who for man's sin. did bleed; Crucified on Calvary, Bowed thine head for sin to die ; Thou didst pray to Him who gave, Death to thee — their souls to save : What is man, thiit he should raise Arm 'gainst arm ia enmities ; — Dare to claim a christian state. When his heart is fraught with hate, Bend the knee, and lisp the prayer j When his nature is at war, With the precept sent from heaven " Forgive as thou 'dst be forgiven !" Outward seeming doth blaspheme. Him who died man to redeem ; If we do not inward feel, All the truths thy words reveal. States and nations perish, must, And like man unite ^nth dust : Sway imperial, crouchiug want, Luxury, and pittance scant, Gold bound brow, uncover' d head. Pillow each on earthy bed. Sombre reason, idiot smile. Depth of thought, and folly's wile, Beauty, and deformity. Love, and hate, together lie ; Time the mighty chronicler. Leaves no trace of what they were. Holy work ; thou ne'er canst die, Thou art of eternity ! Ere thy Light can cease to shine. Heaven and earth shall mould with time Sun, and moon, the stars, this world, Into endless chaos hurl'd ; Heaven expand, the trumpet blast Proclaim, time has breath'd his last : AU but Thou and Thine will fall, Wreck'd wth tliis terrestrial ball. Holy word— thy V.)lest abode Is the presence of thy God : — " Father — thou of all, I pray. Lighten thou my darksome way ; Give me heart to hear Thy word. Faith to keep when I have heard ; Strength of soul, that I may be Everlasting child of Thee." THE WELL OP LIFE. Amid tbe clear blue sky, at noon of day, The Sun resplendent shone on Sychar's vale; The emerald leaves upon the fruitful trees Just motioned, as with life, beneath the breath Of the mild summer breeze. — Beside a well Sat one upon the grround, with eyes downcast As though in pensive mood. Mayhap He thought How at this spot of verdant beauty stood Abram, who tarried here when on his way To Canaan, from Haran. — This the ground That Jacob gave to Joseph ; hence the spring Was called Jacob's Well. Mayhap He saw The great past in the present, and beheld, As in a vision, the famed Patriarch stand Beside tlie altar he first built to God, And dedicated, in his faith and love, To the strong God, — the God of Israel. 'Twas here God promised the good Patriarch The land to all his seed. — Here on the hill Gerizun, full of faith, the father bound Isaac, his son, and lifted up the knife To slay him as a sacrifice to God. Near, Dothan's valley lies — where in a pit Joseph was by liis cruel brethren cast, And after sold to slavery ; and here The bones of Joseph, brought from Egypt, lie. Mayhap these passed before him as a dream. His reverie was broken suddenly ; The soimd of a light footstep met His ear. When, gently raising up His head. He saw A woman with a waterpot, who came According to her customary wont To fill from out the well. His face divine Beamed with a holy, mdd, and heavenly light : His silken gold-tinged locks flowed vridely o'er The well-formed shoulders and the open brow Gave token of a pure and truthful heart ; His eyes with liquid tenderness were filled : Being athirst, with accent meek, He said " Give me to drink." The tone was not command. 44 THE WELL OF LIFE. Nor deep entreaty earnest, but a calm And kind request, heart -toucliing, musical; He was alone, for his comi)anions were Gone to the city to buy meat. She paused, And for a moment spoke not, her black eyes, Lustrous with beauty, dimmed before His gaze. Struck by His looks, and softened by His tone. She answered, and desired to know how He, A Jew, could think of asking drink from her, A woman of Samaria ? The Jews In those days holding no communion with The cursed Samaritans ; who, they all thought Should in the Resurrection have no part. Rising from off the ground, he looked on her With tenderness, such as a dove's mild eyes Would fix upon its mate, and gently said, " If thou did'st know who asketh thee, thou would' st " Soon ask of Him, and He to thee would give " Water so pure thou ne'er shouldst thirst again." Not knowing what He meant, she quick repUed, " Give me this water that I thirst no more, " Or hither come again to draw." — He then Bade her to bring her husband ; when she said, " I have no husband." — On that true reply, He told her she had had five husbands, that The one she now had was, in verity, No husband. — And from this He spoke to her Of her whole course of life, e'en as her heart AVould commune with herself. She went her way Back to tlie city, and proclaimed aloud The wond'rous meeting, and besought that all Should go with her and see the very Ciirist, Who told her all things that she ever did. The midtitude went with her, and beheld Jesus and His disciples, — and they drank From His sweet lips th' eternal living font, Water of life, and many then believed, Their hearts being opened to the light of truth, By His persuasive eloquence divine. Thus, without worldly force, — or stratagem, With meekness, mercy, and a heart of love. Many were brought into the heavenly fold. By the sweet shepherd Jesus. THE CRUCIFIXION. A FRAGMENT. He groaned, — earth trembled, — and in heaven fell Prostrate, the angelic host — all there was mute ; Whilst He, the Son, to God the Father prayed : — " Father, forgive, they know not what they do." Hell shriek'd ! — for Satan and his host lay foU'd Beneath his Conqueror, — the glorious Christ. The ransomed millions by His blood set free, Spread consternation through the ranks of hell, As the arch-fiend in fury gnashed his teeth, Shrieking defiance mingled with despair : Whilst the Omnipotent ope'd wide the gates Of his own bosom, — to receive the Son And His redeemed, — to everlasting life. Yes, He on Calvary, who bore the scourge All uncomplaining ; who endured the scoif Of man ; when clothed with power, he could have called Legions of angels ! — who in Gethsemane Fell on his face in mortal misery. And i^rayed the cup of bitterness might pass ; Died to save man — endured the cruel cross — The pangs of Ungering Death — lent his meek mind To quivering agony — and his pure flesh To darkness and the grave. Dread was the hour When God the Son, the very God and man, To God the Father, — on the altar nailed The Sacrifice for man's atoning sin ; — Cried— "EH! Eli! lama sabachthani 1" The sun grew dark — the Temple's vail was rent. Earth to her centre yawned— huge rocks were crushed, And universal darkness spread her pall, To cover man's iniquity from man. — God mourned — again He cried and jdelded up His pilgrimage on earth — to reign in heaven. For us He died^to save us from the grave Th' eternal Grave of ne'er repentant Hell. THE NEW YEAR. 'Trs TJiiduight, and a solemn sOence reigns, Wliilst millions waiting for the kneU of time, With out st retch' d ears, list for the coming hour. Thou tardy sentinel haste on thy ■pace ; And witk thy iron tongue proclaim the deed, That lea^'es a wreck of human misery. — The clock strikes twelve, — and on each stroke there lies An awful summons : — now the gaping crowd. With indrawn breath and expectation tired, List to thy last fell stroke. Oh warning dread Yet dreadiul — ^joyful — thy vibrating sound. Thou lone last stroke, is caught as welcome news, For at thy death hearts live, and joyful throats Pour forth the greeting of a Good New Year ! The merry pealing bells join in the shout, As ecstasy upon triumphant wing, Soars to the future ; as the Eagle soars, To gaze upon the mid-day glorious sun. — Man — giddy — reckless man, hears not the knell, Of human hope, of wither'd joyless joys ; To him 'tis music — and a father's bones, Though scarcely rotted from the clammy shroud, Cannot recall a child's despairing sigh. The future is the God of human bliss, The future is the fortune of the poor, The future is security 'gainst woe : Oh error, fatal, that can lead the heart, To build upon so unstable a theme. — The year is past, and with it what is gone ? Ask thou the widowed heart, — the Orphan's sigh, The early grave — and early steep' d in crime ; The thing of yesterday — a blooming flower. To day's rank weed, cast to the callous worm. — Where is the mother, who when last this hour Struck joy to all her home ?— where is she now, Who smiling sat the guide of youthful love ? Go to the church-yard, and a little mound, With one white stone upraised at its head. Points to her home ; while Time, the chronicler, Cries, here .she lies ; the loving — and the loved. THE NEW YEAK. 47 Where the child, — the parents' dearest hope, That lisp'd the name of father and was blest ? The new ma de Bride ? — the Bride^oom in his bloom ? The pure — the spotless — honourable man ? Go ask the grave, call Death and let hun tell. Some by disease, by pestilence have fallen ; Some on the scaSbld, some by sudden stroke, Honored and loved — dishonored and despised ; All good — all e^ol mix'd with filthy death. Corrupting, and coiTupted : — rusty skulls. Where fair flesh shed the roseate hue of health ; Socketless eyes, where fire and colour strove, To master passion, and dart forth despair. — • The proud in life, are scarce blown out and puffd, By tinsel ornament and gaudy show, 'Ere the fell monster comes and strips them bare. Oh, hmnan frailty, how grand thou art ; Uuharness'd warriors, and unfrocked priests ; GroveUing beneath the cold and silent sod : And yet the pride in death' s proud mockery, Is more presumptive — raising monuments, The marble urn, the carved sculpt ur'd stone ; Fame's record, and a perishable trust. How truly pitiable to see the corse, Deck'd out with marble ; and a gaudy name Emblazon' d on its face like wedding gear, While flattery's peucd deeply draws her line, And ■mites of virtues — genius — love — and wealth, Tells of deeds past, as guides to deeds to come ; Till Time, with rusty finger blots them out, Leaving a formless fragment, and a void ; Then farewell honour, — pride is truly slain. But what heeds man, what warning ■will he take ; The past is gone, he cries, — the future smiles ; With sparkling cup half drained, and vacant stare. He quaffs a health to aU — a merry year ; Shuts sorrow out as past, and pain to come. Digs his o^wn grave — and poisons his own life ; Luxurious suicide — fain will you yet Recall these iU-spent hours — the song, the jest, The table uproar — frenzied-roUing eye, The pledge to love, to glory ;— Friendship, then. Will prove dishonour, hate, and fulsome praise. The New Year wakes ! another feather moults From off the ■ndng of Time — and on its shaft Millions have perished — true, yet fatal stroke — Nature's decree — man's cvirse — the oath of God. Think not I preach, would I could preach in truth ; Cause tongues that call for ■wine cups — speak in prayer ; Usher new hours as minutes should be spent. As precious streams of Hght that flow from heaven, Letting the weary soul commune with God, Stamping a blessing where a curse would prey. 48 THE NEW YEAR. I said Time's shaft had flown — Time's shaft will fly — E'en now 'tis pone; Death sits upon the barb, And with liis fatal breath blights out his path, As doth the lightning — many fall e'en now ; Art thou exempt ? Thou smilest at thy youth, Thy strength, and health ; have not as young as you, Untimely slept, untimely fled the world ? Cast off the mockery of mortal joy. Repent in time, prepare thyself for heaven. But why to youth alone this warning give, Is age so proof, impervious to wrong, That it should heedless join the giddy mass. Obtain a second childishness in life. And be exempt from worse than childish sin ? Oh shall the furrows on the withered cheek. Where threescore years and ten have marked their track. Acquire new strength to wrestla with hard death, And mock his coming ? Shall the palsied arm By length of years defy the span of Time ? Oh ! aged men, ye grandsires of the tomb, Take warning by your prototypes now gone ; Set up your souls and throw a deeper cast ; Than reckless folly, led by mad-brained youth ; Let worms and sepulchres, note Time's dread tread j Shut out the world, ope wide the book of life, Life's own true precept — everlasting day. "I see the Deep's untranvpled floor With green and purple sea weeds strewn ; I see the xcaves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone, The lightning of the noon-tide ocea/n Is flashed round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet I did any hea/rt now sJuure in my emotion." Shelley. MONA'S ISLE, Canto First. DOUGLAS. I. Bright emerald, from the Amethystian sea, Beautiful Mona, rising from the deep ; All who love nature needs must worship thee, Sunlight and joy are thine ; the heart \\t11 leap With a wild rapture as the eye doth sweep Over thy fertile and majestic hills : Thy jocks of ages — mighty, jagged and steep, The sparkling of thy many crystal rills, Scenes of enchantment form — the heart with rapture fills ! II. Beautiful Mona robed in ambient air : Isle of the Sea Nymphs who around thee play ; Brave men hast thou, and women passing fair, And peaceful valleys on thy sunny way. Tempting us never from thy shores to stray ; Clear are the waters that around thee flow, Pure as the cloudless sky at noon of day; Upon thy sea-girt hills wild flowers grow, Whilst sparkling waves and sands are dallying far below. III. The beauteous bay spreads forth its crescent arms To welcome all who hail its lovely shore ; From Douglas head to Clay head nature's charms Win every heart : — e'en when the tempests roar, And on St. Mary's rock the waters pour, Burying beneath their waves the Refuge Tower, As on high wing the sea-gulls wildly soar ; — With awe we pause, and breathless scan the power. That floods the heaven with light, or darkness round doth lour. mona's isle. Canto I. IV. Fair Onctan like a cloudlet calmly lies, Studding the hill above the glassy bay ; A tiny hamlet bosomed in the skies ; Its dwellings seeming on a summer's day Like sheep when on a mountain's brow they stray, Dotting the distant verdure, — snowy white : — Hero Mona's fairest Maid, so Manxmen say, Dwells the admired of all, a fairy sprite, A glimpse of heaven on earth, is she, to mortal sight. V. I have seen many women, beauties too — Tall, short, dark, fair, from North, South, East, and West- Some with complexions of the olive hue ; But ne'er on human features did eyes rest So spirituel : — her sylph form is imprest Upon my heart, for over. Could I wed, (I really am in earnest, not in jest,) And be by (Jrace, and Beauty, ever led, My heart would yearn to thee, sweet, modest Mary S****. VI. I would to thy dear praise a song now write, But all that Poet's fancy ever penned. All that their soul of souls did e'er indite, Byron, Moore, Shelley,— aye, names without end. Cannot a lustre to perfection lend : — Old bachelors and greybeards perhaps may smile, Their smiles by no means will the matter mend. So if you'll have but patience for awhile, I'll do my best to sing— the Maid of Mona's Isle. The Lassie of Onchan, oh, who can portray. In words, or with pencil, her figure and face ? Her smile is like sunrise just kissing the day. Enchanting her motion with each varied grace. Mary-ineen My-Chree. 2. Her blue eves beam dove-like, her voice it is clear As tones oi a lute on a calm summer sea ; The storms of life's voyage that sweet voice would cheer ; Child-like is her heart in its innocent glee. Mary-ineen My-Ohree. 3. Her laugh is a joy, and a glance from her eyes Enraptures, yet purifies every heart : Like rich pearls her teeth, such as monarchs would pnze ; Bose-dyed are her lips, gently breathing apart. Mary-ineen My-Chree. Canto I. DOUGLAS. 53 4. Thy life is one beauty, beloved Mona's child, A paraxon thou, an undnng desire ; As modest as beautiful, soul undefiled, A saint on thy bosom might yearn to expire. Mary-ineen My-Chree. Tir. Ceased is my song, but thou canst never cease To hold a fond place in my memory : In the far past thou shin'st a star of peace Like Eve's fair planet, which we love to see Peep from the sky when garish day doth flee : Old men and women will their children tell. How in their youth they loved to gaze on thee, How pure and beautiful thou wert ; the Belle Of Mona's fairy Isle — its flower of hill and deU. VIII. Near thy bold land-mark, Douglas,— one reclined Upon the mossy turf, 'mid vnld heath flowers ; His face turned seaward to the gentle wind, Basking in sunlight ; reckless of the hours Which greedy Time unceasingly devours : High o'er his head the mottled cloudlets hung, Braided with light. — Crystalline ether towers From heaven's vast concave battlements were swung. And 'mid thid scene of grandeur, thus the Wanderer sung : 1. Beauty aroimd, — sea, mountains, sunshine, calm, Sky cloudless as an infant's smiling face; Wild thpne and fleld flowers shed their precious balm ; The breath of Nature all the scene doth grace : Alone I sit, but not alone ; — my race Far from me, yet have I communion sweet With the fair spirits of sea, earth, and sky. And in my solitude I converse meet With aU that can the soul's best feelings purify. Is this the bliss of human hearts ? Ah no ; Thoughts will arise to call us back to earth ; E'en as the tide upon the shore will flow. Fond thoughts that other days have given birth, And clasped undying, even in our mirth, Come o'er us, and the form we love appears, Like some pm-e spirit, with a holy smile, Renewing youth, till joy's unbidden tears Flow from their crystal wells ; — gems precious, without guile. 54 moxa's isle. Canto I. 3. Ocean is spread before me, — on the sea Zepliyrs are sporting, — every tiny wave Sheds forth a smile, — that smile falls not on nie ; My life, is of my life the lonesome gi'ave, One feelinsf only struggles hard to save My heart from death's corruption ; 'tis not love, But soul's idolatry, — a lamp whose flame Burns at thy shriue as pure as stars above ; Whose light shall ne'er be quenched, fed by thy hallowed name. 4. Oh, that then wert beside me, that thy head Was pillowed on my bosom, and thine eyes Blended with mine,— mine arms around thee spread ; Our voices but the mingling of our sighs. Like rainbow clouds melting in sunset sides ; That I might hear the pulses of thy heart Whisper that thou art mine ; might know, might feel, That of thy life mine own did form a part, No other bUss would I that Heaven could e'er reveal. 5. Yes, would that thou wert near me — that the light Of thine enchautiag eyes should on me fall ! Each glance with varied beauty, pure yet bright, Soul-speaking, deeper would my heart enthral : And the rich fulness of thy lips withal, The rosy Ijauks which thy bright orbs illume With magic radiance would my joy enhance ; Thy breatli the incense of some rare perfume Filling the air around, my senses would entrance. 6. Oh that thou wert beside me ! All I see Is fraught with beauty, grandeur, power divine ; The humble flowers, high rocks, the mighty sea. The depthless heavens, the fleecy clouds that shine, Th' horiz(m, with its circling purple line ; — Each object is a wonder, a delight, A marvel to mine eyes, a mystery ; I revel in the scene so passing bright. Find poetry in them, — but heaven, alone, with thee. 7. Again, would thou wert near me : Once again I breathe the wish of my soul's fond desire : Alas ! ray prayer for thee is like the rain That droppeth on the ocean, — to expire In the vast depth of waters ; — I aspire For that which only can contentment give : In vain I call upon thy name, — thou art In spirit with me, — I should cease to live Could the remembrance of thee fade from this lone heart. Canto I. DOUGLAS. 55 The world nuiy call this madness, — be it so ; Yet 'tis not of the world, — for few may feel The pangs of an iinutterable woe, Enduring thought, 'neath which the brain will reel, Struggling the consuming fire to conceal That burns unceasing — till, by slow degrees, Life's hopes are sapped, Reason forsakes her throne, And to a wilderness of horror flees, Leaving the wreck of mind — unwept, unloved, unknown. IX. Half-way adown the hill a creek is seen, With lofty spiral rocks on either side ; Which form a shady and retired screen : — Upon the pebbly shore the lucid tide With its long folding waves now softly glide ; Here the bold swimmer plunges to display The cunning of his art — with arms spread wide. Head, breast erect, he buffets with the spray. Until he gains his point, the bosom of the bay. X. A winding path leads to this little creek, Supported, seaward, by a low stone wall ; It looks, seen from the bay, a thread-like streak, And almost pei^pendicular its fall. Enough the stoutest hearted to appal ; Upon this path, just 'neath the mountain's brink, A natural weU is formed, — ' tis very small ; Into this rocky cup the waters sink. Yielding to all who thii-st, delicious, crystal drink. XI. The mellow dipping of the distant oars. The swelling sails, gleaming all snowy white ; The mufHed thunder of the surf that roars Upon the lighthouse rock : — The dazzling light Streaking the waves like molten silver, bright ; Blending with shadow of some passing cloiid : From pleasure-seekers, songs of pure delight Fall on the ear, with greetings long and loud. Tin Night lights up her golden lamps and spreads her shroud. XII. The Night, the summer night, with balmy breath Kissing the twiHght veiled amid the sky ; Watching Ts-ith tenderness the earth beneath : The crystal moon floating in ether, — high Above the frosted silver clouds ; whilst nigh Venus, or Jupiter, whose brilliant light With a soft lustre heaven doth beautify : Or when sweet Luna hides her presence bright. Myriads of stars burst forth, — entrancing to the sight. 5(j jiona's jsle. Canto I. XII. The Nitcbt, — when silence reigns in depths profotind. The Night, — when Earth is hushed in placid sleep ; The Night, — when nature only breathes around ; The Night, — when iishermen upon the deep 'Mid toil and danger anxious watchings keep : The Night, — when tortured bosoms gain repose, AVhen weary hearts upon the pillow weep ; The Night, — when happy dreams around us close. The Night, — great mighty soother of all human woes. XIV. The jewelled curtain rises ! — O'er the sea, Like breath upon a min-or ere it fade, The distant hills of Cumberland we see ; Anon the Sun befloods the lofty shade, And pierces with his rays each vale and glade : The songs of birds falls sweet upon the ear, Melodious is their luscious serenade ; Among the purple heather-bells api^ear Wild bees — and glist'ning dewdrops, flowers and trees to cheer. XV. From out the gorgeous East, the fair young Mom Looks forth, smiles beaming from bis soft blue eyes ; A coronal of pearl his l)rows adorn. His robe, bright .silv'ry clouds, fringed with rich dyes, Gold tinctured, — Upon wings of light he flies. Wafting rare incense from his plumage bright ; And as he climbs the clear cerulean skies, To gain his throne in the meridian height. Earth hails his glefore a tire of magnitude, Thrown iu hot water, then in cold ; — reposed On the bare rugged earth, — their eyes by misery closed, III. No mother's voice to sing the lullaby. No mother' s tender care to soothe each pain ; Never upon them f eU the watchful eye ; The loving glance that suffering will sustain Was never theirs, but looks of cold disdain Met their warm pleadings for the kind caress : Well were they tutored never to complain ; No prayer of hope their infant steps to bless ; E'en from the very breast, their life was bitterness. S4 mona's isle. Canto V. IV. In the sweet, tender, early morn of life, Long ere the period of manhood's years, They drank the very di-egs of mortal strife ; Whipt at the altar by the priests till tears Ceased to flow from their eyes, till human fears Were checked within their bosoms, till no groan Followed the lash, and fell upon the ears Of those who flayed them : — not a single moan Passed from their lips, — they stood inanimate as stone. V. The boys were taught to hold, raise, and depress. Or turn obliquely in their hands the bow ; To shoot their arrows with such steadiness, That to the centre of the mark they'd go : Should one be lost amid the grass or snow, Another dart was in the same course sent ; Thus they the place of the lost one would know : To those who hit the mark they would present A girdle or a bow, — or fine habilimeut. VI. So skilful were they, it is said they'd hit " A halfpenny, or needle " placed as far As they could see — the smallest stem would split With their sharp darts. When they were trained for war. No obstacles their energies could mar ; Could throw the javelin, and wield the spear, Weapons in those days the most popular ; Unknown to their brave hearts a sense of fear, They felt invincible, and dared the foe when near. VII. In the last century the bow and sling Were much in use, and parishes would meet For shooting matches, when each place would bring Their best, picked men, for prizes to compete ; Rewards and praise the conquerors would greet : The prize sometimes has been a fair young maid, When rivals struggled for approval sweet ; Then was the cunning of the art displayed, The victor crowned with flowers, the vanquished, lorn, dismayed. VIII. A story is extant, that one May-day, Two youths, Hugh Camaish and Tlieodrick Sayle, Met to decide the which should bear away As his fond bride the beauteous Ellen Quayle ; The place, a piece of srreensward in the vale Where Laxcy lies.— Tlieodrick was a fair And comely youth with golden locks, yet frail Compared wth Hugh Camaish, — still was his air That of a noble sjiirit, that e'en death would dare. Canto V. ANCIENT MANNERS AND CUSTOMS. 85 IX. Huffh was of lofty statiire, iiud his frame WcU-kiiit and muscular ; — bis jet-black eyes Flashed like the lightning, — Emulous for fame Was stamped upon his brow ; — life's energies Seemed moulded in his form, disdain woiild rise On his proud lip to hear a doubt expressed Of aught that he attempted : he was wise In his groat self-conceit ; such was imprest On all who heard him speak, the cruel, bitter jest. X. He vowed that he would win sweet Ellen's hand ; Talked of Theodrick as a beardless boy. Said that with shame his baby brow he'd brand; That he looked womanish ; — was fit to toy With girlhood only, he so slun and coy ; That manly weapons he should cease to wield, His time in household matters should employ ; Handle the needle, not the warrior's shield. Leave men to stem the tide, or battle on the field. XI. Theodrick was a modest gentle youth, Who never boasted of his weU-knovm skill ; Still he was vaUant-hearted, and in sooth One of a quiet yet determined will ; Gentle his tongue as the sweet murm'ring rill j Ellen he loved from boyhood's early days, Her smile his soul with purest joy would fiU, He sang to her the old chivalric lays, She listened with dehght to hear dear Mona's praise. XII. She loved him from the depths of a pure heart ; His footfall was like music to her ear ; 'Twas misery for her with him to part. And boundless joy to know that he was near. To her he was of earthly things most dear : Her waking thoughts were with him ; in her dreams Of unconnected visions he 'd appear ; Wandering far vrith him by bright fairy streams, And wake to mourn his absence 'mid the morning beams. XIII. Like rich twin ebon diamonds flashed her eyes j Her hau' outshone the Haven's glossy wing ; Love fluttered o'er her bosom with sweet sighs, Lips that would mock a moss-rose blossoming : Her presence was a beauty, Hke the Spring, Gladd'ning the pulse of every heart within ; Her voice tuned hke a lute's melodious string ; Her beauteous features votaries would win ; Cupid's hght finger left, — a dimple on her chin. Canto V. ANCIENT MANNEES AND CUSTOMS. 86 XIV. Hugh once had saved the maiden's father's life, When they were wreck;' d and struggling with the wave ; He asked consent that she should be his wife, The which the old man generously gave, Deeming her worthy of a man so brave ; He woo'd, but could not win her gentle hand, Her heart to loved Theodrick was a slave. To one sole idol could that heart expand, And she besought him not to urge his stern demand. XV. He heeded not her tears, but pressed his claim. Taunted her father wath ingratitude ; The more the maid implored, the more the flame Of passion burned within his bosom rude, A passion not so easily subdued ; The father urged in vain ; — her pleading sighs Were the sole answer ;— she sought solitude, Tears gemmed the silken lashes of her eyes. Smiles from her face had fled, and all'earth's gaieties. XVI. To leave it to the trial with the bow. At length reluctantly she gave consent ; And promised that she would her hand bestow On him who won the match. — Her heart was rent With dread forebodings as to the event. The time was fixed, the first of sunny May ; Hugh of the victory was confident. Whilst Theodrick walked humbly on his way. With heart and hand well nerved to meet the coming day. XVII. The hour arrived, the target firm was placed ; The best of three shots would decide their fate ; Hugh with a clouded brow Theodrick faced, In his black heart was crouching scorpion Hate, With maddening drink howe'er he felt elate : First to the Hne went Hugh, and took his aim, The arrow from his bow flew sure and straight, Struck the true centre of the mark, — became To him a bright presage of victory — and fame. XVIII. At this, long loud huzzas were instant given ; Theodrick calmly stept into his place ; One look to Ellen and a glance to heaven, A smile of beauty beaming on bis face. Whereon no shade of tremor eye could trace ; His steady hand the pointed weapon drew Close to his shoulder, mth a classic grace, Quick as the lightning to the goal it flew, And split the arrow of his vaunting foe in two. 87 mona's isle. Canto V. XIX. The barbs were drawn, the shots proclaimed a tie ; " More drink," cried Hugh, " that was a lucky hit — Go on, boy, do not look so very shy." With words like these he exercised his wit, Theodrick heeded not the unmanly twit ; Calmly again he drew the tensive string ; A breathless pause, swift did his aiTow flit, Fixed in the very centre of the ring ; Its feathers tremblLag, — like a lark's upon the wing ! XX. Ha ! ha ! laughed Hugh, and plied again the drink, Walked to the mark, and shot wide of his aim ; 'Twas then observed his heart began to shrink j He spoke no more ; — mayhap he felt a shame, Or that his soul was stricken by th' acclaun " One for Theodrick !" — Then he drew a dart, 4-nd, as the youth advanced the hit to claim. The arrow from theielon's bow did start, And pierced the good Theodrick through his guileless heart. xxt. The crowd was hushed ; — each breast was fraught with pain; Save a deep, universal throb of woe. That whispered from their lips like distant rain. As they beheld blood from Theodrick flow ; The very sunhght had a lurid glow ; When mid the silence rose an awful cry. Like one whom Death had slain by sudden blow; 'Twas Ellen, with her arms upraised on high, A statue of Despair, — in writhing agony. XXII. One shriek alone came from her broken heart ; Oh, would that at that hour the maid had died ; With her white hands she held the hair apart O'er her hot brow ; whispered, " Theodrick' s Bride Is waiting for his presence by her side ; Where art thou, dear one, whither art thou flown ? Quick, dearest, come, thine Ellen will not chide." She sank upon the earth ; a childish moan Escaped her quivering lips, — Reason had fled its throne. XXIII. Hugh moved not, — drew a poignard from his vest, And cried aloud, " Revenge, revenge is sweet! The first who dare approach me soon shall test My weapon's point ; here do I humbly greet The beauteous bride, — the bridegroom at my feet ; May his soul endless tortures feel in hell. Thus, thus, do I the laws of Mona cheat : " And instant, with a homd fiendish yell, He cleft his vengeful heart, — to earth the murderer fell. 88 mona's isle. Canto V. XXIV. On that day twelve-months was a maiden seen Robed in a bridal dress, yet ashy pale ; She caiiie to view the sports upon the green, No soft entreaties could with her prevail, No words of lov'd remonstrance would avaU To stay her steps, or curb her strong desire ; At the same hour when fell Theodrick Sayle, Her head bent o'er the shoulders of her sire, Sweet Ellen's spirit lied; quenched was the mortal fire. XXV. The peasantry, in ancient days, would tie Their hair behind, bound with a leathern thong ; This head-gear was supposed to beautify, Therefore they always wore it very long ; Their clothing was of wooUen cloth and strong ; StocMngs all footless, brogues of coarsest hide. Over the instep these were laced along ; Such the extent of their rude native pride, A hardy race were they, who foppery would deride. XXVI. The women, gowns of linsey-woolsey wore, Short petticoats, dyed of a darldsh red With moss that grew upon the rocks ; — and more, A winding sheet ! — so Bishop Mcryk said. Whene'er they went abroad, around them spread, Just to remind them of raortahty, By grave-cloths, the sad vestments of the dead : Of this record we doubt the verity. And think 'twas but a plaid worn by the peasantry. XXVII. Deemsters and Coroners could once compel, On pajTnont of a very trifling fee, Persons of either sex with them to dwell In servitude ; — this was done l)y decree. They called it yardiiui, f(jr which Waldron see. The Sumner o'er the shoulder laid a straw. Proclaimed the Deemster's name, or barony. And all refusing to obey the law Had only barley-cake a.nd water for their maw. XXVIII. Old customs now have nearly passed away. The Christmas revelries, and New Year's eve, Sporting and garlanding in sunny May, With flowers that youth f(jr beauty would inweave ; The feastings for the dead when all should grieve ; Wedding processions, — and the osier wands With which the groomsman would the bride receive, Marching thrice round the church in little bands, And dancing in the moonlight — on the silv'ry sands. Canto Sixth. THE DRUIDS. I. Silence, — no breathing save from lips of flowers ; Day peeps from out the East ; — a gUmpso of light From the horizon, — tells the Morning Hours Earthward are wending, as the solemn night Closes his raven wings, and shrinks from sight : O'er the broad ocean myriad golden beams From heaven's great orb, on lofty hills aUght, Waked from their slumbers are the crystal streams, And from the emerald woodland luscious music teems, II. On Glen Darrah, the calm pellucid Mom In placid beauty smiles. The diamond dew Gutters on every leaf. The perfumed thorn, Deck'd with May's blossomings, delights the view, And richest iiowers of every varied hue, A carpet fonn for youthful Summer's tread ; Who comes with gentle steps, his eyes of blue, Radiant with love, about his beauteous head A coronal of pansies, — bound with silver thread. III. A solemn sound was borne upon the breeze, Like distant thunder muttering its ire ; As though instinct with life the gnarl'd oak trees Moved mournfully, — portending something dire ; In the far distance gleamed the fitful tire ; Nearer it came, till one vast multitude Approached, — as though impelled by strange desire To consummate some dreadful deed, — subdued, But yet not quenched, — the longings of these people rude. 90 mona's isle. Canto VI. IV. Foremost tb' Arch Druid walked in regal state ; Upon his head a tiara of gold Placed o'er an oaken wreath. The Arch Druaight, Wore on his breast, enchased in richest mould, The adder-stone, so fabulous of old, His breacan of six colours ; in his hand A golden bill-book ; used as we are told, To rend the mistletoe. None could withstand The mandate he sent forth, — or his stem reprimand- V. A venerable man was he, his beard, A silver-grey, reached to the middle breast ; His very look the superstitious feared, As his fierce, piercing eyes on them would rest; Next came the sacerdotal order, — drest In white robes, emblematical of truth And holiness, — the which they had imprest On all their followers. Old age and youth Believed alike on them ; that what they said was sooth. VI. In sky-blue robes, the sweet device of Peace, Followed the Bards who sang ia BeU's praise ; And as they sang their fervour would iucrease. With rapture they to heaven their eyes would raise, Wldch awed and hush'd the multitude ; those lays Were called cairn tunes, each Bard was deemed inspired As upward flew the consecrated blaze : Next came Disciples, variously attired. In dresses, blue, green, red — by servitude acquired. vn. The sacred circle gained ; a mystic prayer Was muttered by the chief. — A sign then made, \Vhen lo ! from out the crowd a damsel fair. Bound was brought forth, on the stone table laid, Lamblike, yet fearless, was the gentle maid ; Th' Arch Druaight drew a dagger from his vest. And midst dumb silence sheath'd the keen-cdged blade Up to the hilt in the poor victim's breast ; No cry escaped her lips, — the spirit was at rest. vui. Within the centre of the Temple stood " The awful stones of power," whereon was lain. Surrounded by largo piles of seasoned wood, The body of the sacriticc just slain ; The blood was suffered from the corpse to drain Wlulst the designing priests professed their skiQ, By suVjtle scrutiny to ascertain, The course of things to come ; and by their will Bring greatest good to pass, or see impending iU. Canto VI. THE DRUIDS. 91 IX. Thousands have perished by the hand of man, By man, man's blood has laNashly been shed ; Priestcraft has proved humanity's stem ban. At idol altars human flesh has bled ; Gross Superstition has the murderer led To blm- the kmf e with the heart's crimson tide ; Glen Darragh's vale has been a scene of dread ; Forgetfulness the past may never hide ; Horror must strike each breast, — and e'er on it abide. X. Sacred the groves, — to Fiends, but not to God ; Fountains polluted, valleys the retreats Of human butchers ; — the sweet verdant sod Stained with Ufe's essence by brute priestly cheats ; The black pollution Satan's heart concretes. Infesting the most beauteous spots of earth ; In vain the victim Mercy's aid entreats ; A human sacrifice was food for mirth, Once happy homes were blasted — left a gloom, a dearth ! XI. Here the last human sacrifice was slaia. On this fair Isle, so beauteous to the sight ; Yet will the memory for aye remain Of many a horrid deed. Here the forked light Fed by flesh human, startled ebon Night, And bid earth's glorious day shrink back dismayed; Here from the cairns on many a dizzy height. The unholy fires their dreadful deeds displayed, And here the Vampyre's thirst for blood at length was stayed. XII. Now look npon the scene. The shadow lies Athwart the old grey stones, — which the bright sun Kisses with silver lips, — and purifies The dark past with the present. Time hath spun His woof of light and shade since deeds were done That sicken as we think. The gentle streams Sing plaintively, as on their coui'se they run ; The solitude around the place beseems The sadness of the hour, Hke pain scarce felt in dreams. XIII. Away, away the past ! the present hour Is fraught with joy, to all wdth souls to feel Loved Nature's beauties ; who in each small flower See priceless gems that o'er the senses steal ; And balmy breath inhale, the mind to heal : Altar most sacred is the pm-e of heart. Love, undefiled, the shrine where aU should kneel ; Mammon, the world, the gay and busy mart. Allure but to destroy, — ^true bhss these ne'er impart. 92 mona's isle. Canto VI. XIV. Thus have I glauccd, though bi-iefly, o'er thy charms. Beautiful Isle, retreat from toil to peace, To thy loved hills and dales my heart still warms ; Thine imago only with my hf o can cease ; May happiness from year to year increase To Ihe indwellors of thy joyous home ; Thou art indeed sweet Nature's masterpiece, Free as the sea-breeze, or old ocean's foam, No sumiier clime could tempt me from thy shores to roam. XV. Farewell, dear Mona, — farewell, happy hours, Ye lofty crags, farewell, and fairy dales ; FareweU, ye leafy woods and rainbow flowers, And fare ye well old legendary tales ; Farewell, ye elfins sporting in gi-een vales. Mysterious cairn, and Druidical well ; Farewell, ye odorous and spicy gales ; Love, beauty, all of joy that tongue may tell, To ye I breathe a sad adieu, — Good night, — Farewell ! ilY MOTUER. 95 MY MOTHER. I LOOK around, but never see One living face so dear to me. Nor heax a voice with tones so sweet As thine, my Mother, which I greet With all the fervency of truth, That linVd my heart to thine in youth. II. Though Time thy brow has wrinMed o'er, Years only bind me to thee more ; Though age has dimmed thy loving eyes, Their latent sparks I fondly prize : Though feeble be thy steps, they're dear To me, — I know my Mother's near. III. When absent, far from sight apart. Thy form lies pictured on my heart ; Thy gentle voice, and tender smile. My musing moments oft beguile ; I dream of days when I was prest Upon my Mother's yearning breast. IV, No face, however fair it be, ' Can lure my heart away from thee ; No voice, however sweet its tone, Breathes such loVd music as thine own; No eyes, however warm and bright. Can, like my Mother's, glad my sight. V. No step, however light its fall Upon mine ear, can e'er recall. My senses, like thy ti-ead, with care, Uneven sounding on the stair ; No loss so pure, no love so true, My Mother, — as I give to you. VI. Have you a Mother ? — Prize her well, Her loss the motherless can teU ; CHng to her with a loving heart. The day will come when you must part ; Comfort thy Mother, be her stay. Lighten her griefs on Life's dark way. 96 LIFE— WHAT IS LIFE. LIFE— WHAT IS LIFE ? I. Life, — what is life ? A sunbeam creeping through a dungeon's gloom, On which the hapless captive looks intent : — The portal to the dark and lonesome tomb, A sturdy swimmer with his strength near spent ; Emblem of strife. In Youth, — a glorious summer, whose sweet breath Comes o'er the senses with delicious thrill ; Earth fraught with incense, crown' d with flowery wreath, Gold on the mountain, — crystal on the riU, Heart with joy nf e. II. Manhood's strong hour ; Health laughing through the veins with ruddy glow ; The eye on beauty feeds, — no care, no thought. All looks sublime above, around, below; No pang a crease upon the brow has wrought ; Grief hath no power To check the onward cuiTcnt of delight ; No cloud upon the horizon's circle 's seen The soul expands with love in its pure flight ; The very air transparent, and serene With heaven's rich dower. III. Entrancing Fame ! The Poet's verse, — the Sculptor's cunning art; The Painter's glo^song canvas, — and the tongue Inspired by Eloquence : — Glory, the Mart ; Music, whose silver chords are ne'er unstrung, A deathless name : Honour, — a bauble title : — homage paid By man to man ; dust kneeling before dust, The sun behind a cloud will cast a shade. Time wafts his wing, and smites down with the gust, Quench' d the bright flame ! LIFE — WHAT IS LIFE. 97 IV. Few, little years, Melt e'en as fla.kes of snow upon the earth ; Like them we fall, and ^ith the past expire ; The future recks not of us, — and our bu-th Unknown, or uuremombered ; — each desire Soon disappears Mid the vast miiltitude. — The flesh decays Beneath the verdant sod,— we pass away And leave no void ; fond memory's bahuy rays Shine not o'er us :— the long-forgotten clay Can claim no tears. Vain fleeting life ! Created but to perish ;— what art thou, That men should worship thee like some rich gem. Priceless above eternity, — and bow Before thee, e'en as though thou wert to them AH peace — no strife ? As if thou didst not bring disease and pain. Heart pangs and hoxDcless yearnings, with despair To rack the bosom : — greater loss than gain, An evanescent robe, though tempting fair, Art thou — oh Life ! M A DREAM OP THE FAIRIES —ON THE BANKS OP THE SEVERN. Day on his silver pinions sped O'er the confines of earth ; Leaving a glory on his track, Like an enamell'd star, Fashioned from precious jewellery. Upon the brow of Eve : — Around the beauteous colors rose. And mingled into one Effulgent mass, so glorious, As though th' Almighty's arm Had dash'd — millions of rainbows on the western vault. From his purpureal throne afar. Bright Hesperus look'd down ; And smiling o'er the blooming earth, Called forth his blushing Bride, The meek young Twilight, who uprose Spreading her ambient wings Over the languid, drooping flowers. And fanned with incense choice Their closing leaves ; till, lulled to sleep, Drops of crystaUine dew Lay on their fringed lids, — like tears on childhood's cheek. There was a balmy hush around. As, one by one, the stars Lift up their Vjumish'd silver lamps In heaven's blue concave dome — A burst of tremulous lustre then O'erflowed the atmosphere ; For the vast jewellery of night Hung like rich diamond -drops, Pendant upon rare amethysts. The Angel of the flowers Shook out his fragrant plumes, — and showered perfume round. The summer-tide was in its prime, Earth from her fruitful womb Brought forth her varied beauteous stores ; And Tutclina waVd, Over the full and ripening grain. Graceful, her golden wand. A DREAM OF THE TAKIES. 99 From lior voluptuous Eastern couch Crcscented Luna rose, When from the Emerald lime trees poured A flood of melody, Which rolled ia luscious cadence to the heavenly Queen. The banks that deck Sabrina's stream Were laced with light, that trickled through The foliage, with many a gleam ; And danced upon the infant dew. Which trembUng stood on every blade. Like pearl-lets shower'd: — each ripple seemed A silver curve, with beryl shade, And rich with flo^Tng glory teemed. On truant, pouting, lotus leaves, AdowTi the bubbling current — sailing came Forms exquisite,— of rarest mould, Ajid beauty feminine, in whose soft eyes Lingered sweet smiles, 'neath moony tears : — With yellow hair, o'er snowy shoulders throwii : Some had their tiny hands upraised. Whilst others crossed them o'er their beating breasts, Like images of fond despair. Sorae spread their gauzy wings to catch the breeze, Which sighed upon them from the south. A sound of voices, such as might awake The wild bee from his nest of thyme. Came whispering from the myriad throng ; when lo ! Appeared, in garments white as snow, Six virgins, whose pure beauty breathed out rays Of radiant glory o'er the scene : — On reeds, that flushed like yellow gold, they bore A Water- Lily ; — in its vase There lay a harebell, whose cerulean heart Enshi-ined the matchless, beauteous, form Of the young Fairy Queen — asleep in death. Up by the Quarry's* meadow bank, The Fairy choir drew in a crescent form : — Prom either pomt, on outspread wings. They floated to the shore, — where, in a ring All sacred to the regal rites. The costly burden gently down was laid In the true centre ; and the host Stood tip-toe on the circle, save the sis • This beautiful promenade occupies a rich sloDing meadow of about twenty acres. It is planted with a bold clump of magnificent horse-chesnut, and lime trees. The principal walk is a noble avenue of lofty lime trees, whose tops unite, and form a gorfteous arch of traceried leaf-work, through wliich the millowed li^ht is distilled, and falls softly on the eye, whilst the music of their millioned leaves, trembling in the breeze, steals to the heart with a charm almost magical. 100 A DKEAJI OF THE PARIES. Of claosen loveliness, they formed An inner cur\-o around the precious gem. Their silver wands were raised on high, When all was mute, and every wing was hushed : A circle then of five was made. When one advanced, and thus sang her lament : — FIRST FAIRY. I. Sadly we mourn thee, sweet Sister, our love, And weep distilled dew o'er thy flow' ret grave ; Sighs, echo'd by pearl-shells, around thee are wove. So soft not a gossanier fibre would wave ; And purely, and gently, we breathed o'er thee dead As we bore thee along to thine o'svn regal bed. II. The heart of the harebell enshrines thee at rest, And violets watch thee, with heavenly eyes ; Bright gold-dust is shower'd from the beautiful breast Of the wild bee that floats through eve's radiant dyes ; Uncoflined we shrouded thee, in the last ray Of the white flashing Sun, at meridian of day. III. Oh never again wilt thou greet with a smile. The insects of earth on the transparent air. Nor thy streaming locks shake, in the moon-beams the while. The twilight breeze kisseth thy forehead so fair ; Thy chalcedony wings will not fan thee away. To welcome night's shade, on the threshold of day. IV. Awake thee, sweet Sister, the stars are so bright, And quiver mellifluous music above ; The night flowers have opened their lips to the light. And sing perfumed lays as a pledge of their love ; Whilst a glow-worm procession is passing along The green sward, to light up the (knee, and the song. CHORUS OF FAIRIES. Awake thee, Sweet Sister, arise ! arise ! One word from thy lips, One smile from thine eyes, Ere the Day-god strips. From the Wrekin§ the shade Of Night, to enfold Each tree, flower, and blade, With his mantle of gold. Awake thee. Sweet Sister, arise ! arise ! « Tlii» hill is celebrated from the circumstance of its detached situation. It rises in a flat part of the county, and is about l,-'(il) feet above the level of the ScViTn. From the top a most beautiful map of landscaie is presented to the view, and the Welsh bills, in the distance, add to the loveliness of the prospect. A DREASI OF THE FARIES. 101 In vain the appeal, no sign of life was given : No sounds save what the whispering moonbeams made, When dalljdng on the Severn's gentle breast ; Or the hght fanning of the elfins' wings, When the air pressed too rudely. Lo ! — at length, From the charmed circle, with slow steps, advanced Pearlct, of all the sprites most beautiful ; — And, throwing from her forehead her fair hair. With soft blue eyes, down turned, whose ivory lids Seemed jealous of the light that lodged therein — She knelt close by the lov'd lamented one : And then was heard, a low delicious sound Of music — which seemed melted into air. PEARLET. — SECOND TAIRY. I. Return to us once more, Beloved as thou art — our beauteous queen ; Life to all hearts restore ; Look from thy azure sheen, Be as thou wert, when first upon the throne. We hailed thee, mistress dear, When round thy waist, a zone Of smiles from the young stars was clasped — ah, where, Say, whither art thou flown ? II. Once, o'er thy graceful head We flung a cro\\Ti, bedecked with thousand rays. With precious jewels spread, Formed from the inmost blaze Of rubies — topaz — diamond^crysolite. Onyx — emerald — sapphire. Showering one flood of light. And bathing all around with rainbow fire. Entrancing to the sight. III. Thy matchless garb was wove By the young moonbeams, at the noon of night ; Its woof the breath of Love, Whose power is more than might : And when we robed thee, the sweet stars retired. Blushing — with half -closed eyes, And every flow'ret quired Thy earth praise — which was echo'd by the skies. Like hannony — inspired. IV, Yes, Sister — dearest — wake. Without thee — laughter has no joy to bring ; Oh, do not thus forsake. Or ne'er more may we sing 102 A DREAM OF THE FAKIES. Strains of sweet melody, to greet thine ear, Wliou morning's first pure ray Whispers that Sol is near, And when the Evening kisses the tired Day ; Shall we not mourn thee dear ? Oh joy, — great joy, a voice is heard, That thrills each heart with ecstacy : Alas, — not limb or feature stirred Of the young Queen, who calmly lay As though in dreamless sleep, but yet That well-hnown voice had power to move ; Once heard, what ear could e'er forget, Such sounds of purity and love ? THE FAIRY QUEEN. I. Weep not, sweet sisters, weep ye not for me. Let not tears flow, Away with woe. Bend not the knee, My spirit lives, but its home is afar In the light — and love of — yon bright star. II. Ere Day will have outspread his silver wings. Flooding the sky, To beautify Teri-estrial things. To ye I return, yet my heai-t 's afar In the light, and love — of you bright star. No sooner had the spirit ceased, Than all the Elfin host Drew nigh, for Morning gave the sign Of his refreshed approach. Lo! the bright star dissolved in light, When a soft sigh was heard. When a sweet smile was seen to play O'er lips and blushing cheeks. When fjright eyes slowly rose their lids, Disclosing to the view. Beauty, and loveliness, and life. A shout of joy arose : But ere the echoes died away, A well-beloved voice Awoke at once to earth and love The Slumberer, — who lay Upon tlie Quarry's verdant bank ; And thus dispelled th' enchantment of the Poet's Dream. THE ANGEL OF THE FLOWERS. 103 THE ANGEL OF THE FLOWERS. She comes adown the pale blue depths of heaven ; Above her head an undlm'd wreath of light Spans the deep ether dome. In either hand A vase of frosted silver, whence arise Transparent clouds of incense. On her head A coronal of snowdrops, lilce genun'd tears New fallen from sad loving spirits' eyes. Her spotless wings, like sun-illumined snow, Fan the Ambrosial air, as seedlings rise In beauty infantine, spreading their leaves To catch the luscious sighs. She gently comes. To Idas her sister. May, Who, robed in hawthorn, white, Like a young fairy sprite. Sings her enchanted lay- From honeysuckle bells The air with perfume swells ; And from the woodland spray The songster's joy-notes triU, As the low whispering rill Breathes forth its calming music till the close of day. The beauteous pansiea rise In purple, gold, and blue, With tints of rainbow hue, Mocking the sunset skies ; The modest violets. Under the hedge-row sets. Lift up their soft blue eyes ; And the meek daisies show Their breasts of satin snow, Bedeck'd with tiny stars of gold 'mid perfume sighs. Moon-dyed primroses spread Their leaves her path to cheer. As her step draweth near ; And the bronzed waU-flowers shed Rich incense ; summer hours Are