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 ■.i.:.fAe^-^y.\>
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 fo C- 
 
 |vt- 
 
 ^7
 
 POEMS.
 
 MAN AND NATURE 
 
 POEMS 
 
 "WRITTEN LONG AGO. 
 
 Neo fonte labra prolui caballino. 
 
 Nee in bicipiti soinniasse Parnasso 
 
 Memini, ut repeute sic poeta prodirem^ 
 
 HeMconidasque pallidamque Pyreueu 
 
 Illis remitto quorum imagines lambiuit 
 
 Hederae sequaces : ipse semipaganus 
 
 Ad sacra vatum carmen offero nostrum.— PersiM*. 
 
 LIVERPOOL 
 
 PRINTED FOB, PRIVATE CIRCULATION, 
 
 1883.
 
 Poesy was ever thought to have some participation of 
 divineness, because it doth raise and erect the mind, by 
 submitting the shows of things to the desires of the mind ; 
 whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the 
 nature of things. 
 
 BACON.
 
 PR 
 C35^ 
 
 This Volume ts 
 
 Jfttfttrnfttllg itt0£rtb£l) 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 WILLIAM DAWBAEN, Esq., 
 
 OF 
 
 ELMSWOOD HALL, AIGBURTH, 
 
 BY HIS FRIEND 
 
 Thomas Ckaddock. 
 
 705568
 
 Inliex. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Voyage of Life 1 
 
 The Beggar 9 
 
 Evening 11 
 
 Madame Mere 13 
 
 Night on the Sea 17 
 
 Maria 23 
 
 The Soldier's Tale 25 
 
 Turner's Italy 27 
 
 Hymn of the Lark 31 
 
 To the Eain Cloud 33 
 
 The Magician 37 
 
 The Eecruit 40 
 
 The Life Boat 43 
 
 Knowledge 47 
 
 March 51 
 
 Lines to a Beautiful Young Lady 54 
 
 Scene near Nottingham 57 
 
 Lines to a PavER CO 
 
 California G3
 
 INDEX. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Summer Shower CO 
 
 The Emigrant 73 
 
 Her Name 76 
 
 The Italian Organ Player 78 
 
 The Young Radical 81 
 
 The Grave of the Missionary 8G 
 
 A Day on the Rhine 89 
 
 Content 01 
 
 The Street Girl 95 
 
 Sonnets. 
 
 Mystery of the Mind.. 101 
 
 Our Ignorance 102 
 
 Presumption 103 
 
 Age 104 
 
 Life 105 
 
 Love of Life lOG 
 
 Mystery of Life 107 
 
 TuK Soul 108
 
 ELMSWOOD. 
 
 MAY 2CTH, ISSl 
 
 Farewell, dear friend of many years, farewell ! 
 
 All thou liast been and done in memory now 
 As mummies lie ; and often will slie tell, 
 
 When round the table friends more friendly grow, 
 Of thy warm grasp;— that acted like a spell 
 
 On the receiver, clearing from his brow 
 Constraint and timorous mistrusts, that quell 
 
 Our easy intercourse and pleasant glow. 
 But none that ever ate thy bread and salt, 
 
 Or shook the dust at thy expanded door, 
 Can cease to recollect thee, and exalt 
 
 The unbounded fervour, giving more and more 
 Ease to the sitter till he seemed to be 
 
 Friend, though a stranger ; and, though strange, 
 yet free.
 
 11. 
 
 The evening light is lowering on the lawn, 
 
 The kine are feeding, and the nibbling sheep 
 Cast shadows on the green, — the trees have drawn 
 
 Their outlines bolder, and gay colours steep 
 The straggling clouds, — a stream of light glides down 
 
 The banquet table, tinting flowers whose bells 
 The bees might ravish ; — he, we gladly crown 
 
 Oiu- guide and sage, smiles blandly, while he tells 
 Some recent chronicle of flagrant guile, 
 
 Some clear experience, or a deed of blame, 
 Or jests ; and cheers us with a common smile. 
 
 * Oh nights and suppers of the gods,' — all gone. 
 And we, their sad survivors, feel how one. 
 
 When lost, can jar life's most melodious tone.
 
 HI. 
 
 The stalest tlierne that can inspire the pen, 
 
 The theme we all peruse in eveiy flower, 
 
 In every bridal smile, and every hour 
 Of sunshine, and in worldly pride and gain. 
 
 It is the text of seasons, and doth speak 
 One language both to wise and worthless men : 
 
 " Thou must resign " — thy youth, thy health, and seek 
 All life's requirements and sober means 
 
 In duller moments and in colder scenes. 
 The easy chair, the crutch, the helping hand 
 
 Must be thy barter for the elastic limb, 
 And for the sparkling eye, the beam too dim 
 
 For noon to brighten : — yet, this great command ; — 
 " Thou must resign " cuts sharpest when it rends 
 
 By sudden stroke, the intercoui'se of friends. 
 
 Vale, in eternum vale !
 
 MAN AND NATURE. 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 Time, — thou amidst the workers of the world, 
 
 The mighty pilot art; 
 With rudder ever set, and sail unfurled. 
 
 Seeking an unreached mart. 
 
 How joyously we swarm thy pleasant deck, 
 
 In young, expectant joy; 
 When the long hail* hangs glossy down the neck. 
 
 And o'er all glows the boy ! 
 
 Gaily the bark floats over waves that flash 
 
 Like jewels round the prow; 
 And mxu'mur playful music, as they dash, 
 
 And snatch the morning glow.
 
 Beautiful shores lie studding every cove, 
 
 And nothing mars the view, 
 Where'er the boy's inquiring glances rove. 
 
 To catch the gay and new. 
 
 Soon, where the shores wind round the sunny bay, 
 
 The anchor bites the shoal ; 
 And there the youth throws time in feast away, 
 
 And heats, with love, the sovil. 
 
 The young, the beautiful, together meet 
 
 In void xmrecked delay; 
 And accent thrills to accent, as their feet 
 
 In the green pastures stray. 
 
 Look in her eye, how bright its lustre gleams, 
 
 What meaning in her glow ! 
 How the delighted spirit warms and teems 
 
 With passionate vow on vow ! 
 
 And wherefore not"? No fashion earth can give. 
 
 No fascinating lure. 
 Like that along the heart will bi'eed and live, 
 
 And patiently endure. 
 
 It may be only desolation, gay 
 
 With a deceitful gleam; — 
 A misery in motley to bewray 
 
 The future with a dream : 
 
 It may precede a hundred woes and wrongs. 
 
 And mock the heart it wiles. 
 Ami, mid the pestilence of busy tongues, 
 
 Beti-ay while it beguiles:
 
 Let it betray — the worst will for the worst 
 
 Find its sole help and cure, 
 And hope, with her successive fancies niu-st, 
 
 Will teach them to endiire. 
 
 But time is hastening. Lo ! tlie sail is set 
 
 To waft her burden on; 
 The triflers on the deck again are met, 
 
 To try a different zone. 
 
 The winds to pleasant stress confine their powers, 
 The seas coil crispy round ; 
 
 Nothing so listless as those listless hours, 
 Lulled by the drowsy sound 
 
 Of easy breeze, that strikes the rigid line, 
 
 And dies along the shroud ; 
 Now, like the mvisic of a harp divine, 
 
 Now, harsh as murmuring crowd. 
 
 "Why dost thou loiter, PUot, on these seas 
 
 Smiling, and bright, and still, 
 Let us aliead, where bolder skies increase 
 
 The use of art and skill." 
 
 The pilot eyes his charge, — so young, so fair, — 
 
 And meets the swelling gale. 
 And the gay waters darken, and the air 
 
 Whistles through cord and sail. 
 
 The lusty boy turns eager to the strife, 
 
 And bounds, as if with wings. 
 And feels the peril lend a zest to life, 
 
 And trusts deceitfid things.
 
 But soon even bliss grows stale, — he yawns to i-aise 
 
 Wonder in every breast; 
 His eager pnlse no difficulty stays 
 
 To struggle for the best. 
 
 Eacli towex'ing headland, scowding at the gale; 
 
 Each islet, lurking low, 
 Warms the enthusiast to press on sail, 
 
 And bids him dare and do. 
 
 He scorns the rock, that frowns mid creamy sui-f, 
 
 And eagerly would ride 
 The waves, that bound, like chargers o'er the turf, 
 
 In deadly strength and pride. 
 
 Danger delights him ; and, to mock the strong, 
 
 And set the great at nought, 
 Stirs manhood in him, till his powers throng 
 
 Round some ambitious thought. 
 
 " On, laggard pilot, crowd thy scanty sail, 
 
 And tack thy bark to wind. 
 On, — let us ride the passion's roughest gale, 
 
 So we leave youth behind. " 
 
 Grimly the pilot smiles, imfurls the sheet, 
 
 And the bark darts away, 
 Where over liead black clouds in tempest meet 
 
 The waters lashed to spray. 
 
 Spars, cordage, carcasses confused are borne 
 
 Along that dismal sea. 
 And all that ride it show an aspect worn, 
 
 Less gay, less bright, less free.
 
 The dash of sober earnestness and care 
 
 Has eaten line by line, 
 And turned to iron-grey the glossy haii*, 
 
 And quenched the power divine. 
 
 Yet summer glows around, and islands fair, 
 
 Lie glittering in that main, 
 Wliere the ripe season breathes delicious air, 
 
 O'er fields, weighed down with grain. 
 
 And toil-brown men, with heaving bosoms, mow 
 
 The fells and grassy plain, 
 And from the stubble ripened corn-sheaves throw 
 
 On the stout reeling wain : 
 
 And then they break the bread, and drain the flask 
 
 Under the thorny green; 
 And, nerved anew, resume the siiltry task. 
 
 Till the dusks intervene. 
 
 Strong manhood eyes the scene, and cries, "Away, 
 
 Let us seek other shores. 
 Where burden hath no sorrowful delay 
 
 To check the flying hours. 
 
 "The sweat-bought peace is not the peace I sought 
 
 In youth's exulting spring; 
 But the imwearied pleasure, boldly cavight 
 
 While glittering on the wing. 
 
 "The earth hath many a shore, where, calm with rest 
 
 The moments drift away; 
 And fulness bids the easy mind be blest, 
 
 And laugh from day to day.
 
 6 
 
 "On, on." — A duskier sky looms overheaJ, 
 
 .And cokler breezes blow, 
 And the stout vessel sti-ains fix»m helm to head. 
 
 And labours to and fi-o: 
 
 Its spread sails wear the x-endings of the gale. 
 
 And its strong bulwarks show 
 "Where the wave stinick, and made their iron frail. 
 
 And shook the ribbed walls through. 
 
 Dim shores are passe^l, where fruits in ripened glow- 
 Are mixed with withered fiowei's, 
 
 And red leaves whistle shrill, as the winds blow 
 Through autiinm's v/asted bowers. 
 
 The weary gleaner picks her winter meal 
 
 Amid the stubble's waste. 
 And the sim's dewy lustre overhe-ad 
 
 Grows thin, and overcast. 
 
 Still to the pilot turning Man cries, "Speed! 
 
 On ! let us make the shore. 
 Where gold, the remedy of toil and need, 
 
 Strews plain and valley o'er. 
 
 ** There, these sad storais outridden, we may rest 
 
 And life will give i-ewai-d; 
 An<l, by no soiTowful reverse distrest, 
 
 Laugh round a plenteous board. 
 
 "No gloomy menace of neglect and Avant 
 
 Shall fret the coming day; 
 No more the heart shall after glories pant. 
 
 That pass in toil away.
 
 "But pleasure, altering from moorl to mood, 
 
 Shall cheer the fading bi'ow ; 
 And the sere frame shall glow with ardent blood, 
 
 And jest at threatening woe. 
 
 "Steer nn, steer on;" — the pilot nears the shore, 
 
 But dusky cliffs surround, 
 And from the mountains winter's chilling frore, 
 
 Cats, like a smarting womid. 
 
 Cold, herdless pastm-es stretch, and fruitless liclds, 
 
 Iced o'er, deny reward; 
 Gold, gold alone the dreary district yields : — 
 
 A mocking, stagnant hoard. 
 
 No woodland collages, nor sparkling flowei-s, 
 
 Nor bii-ds the cold waste cheer ; 
 But o'er the landscape mist and ague lours, 
 
 And deserts stretch out drear. 
 
 "Turn, pilot," cries the weary, wasted man, 
 
 "Let us return again; 
 Diseases rack me, and my face grows wan 
 
 With weai-iness and pain. 
 
 "Why didst thou bear me from my glowing prime, 
 
 When, full of hope and bold, 
 Each grain that filled the hour-glass of time 
 
 Was grain of happy gold. 
 
 "Why didst thou guide me on through wreck and gale, 
 
 To bear me to a shore 
 Where want, midst wealth, sits loathsome, haggard, frail. 
 
 Counting her wretched oi'e,"
 
 8 
 
 "Nay," cries the i)ilot, "never more thou 'It see 
 
 The gay shore of the boy, 
 And never shall thy breast again throb fi-ee, 
 
 And leap ^^^.th living joy. 
 
 "OnNvanl we toil to gloomier, lonelier shores, 
 
 Where cold and sightless night. 
 Shall seize thy suj^ei-aminated powere, 
 
 And end their wi*etched fight. 
 
 "There, broken down ^\'ith all that life has been, 
 
 Tliy pride shall waste away, 
 And thy eye, closing on its ha.i-assed scene, 
 
 Shall give the clay its clay."
 
 THE BEGGAR. 
 
 Ye liig-li-bom gentles, who daspise 
 
 My rags, and age, and poverty; 
 Who turn away discourteous eyes, 
 
 And hurry from my son-owing sigh : 
 You see me shudder as I feel 
 
 The pelting cold of winter's rain, 
 While, wrapped in fur and wool, you reel 
 
 From banquets and the syi-en's strain. 
 
 Oft, when I see you hunying on. 
 
 With glee i-esounding as you go, 
 I ask great nature, wdth a groan. 
 
 Wherefore your blessing is my woe? 
 Wherefore she gives the wish to be 
 
 Another being, whei-efore Ijends 
 One \mder lifelong misery, 
 
 And one each happy influence sends. 
 
 Trtie, I was bom to what I am, 
 My cradle was a patch of sti-aw, 
 
 And I was taught, a babe, to sham. 
 And live without regaixl to law.
 
 10 
 
 In rudest hovel, all alone, 
 
 My winter nights have often past. 
 
 Without a crust, without a bone 
 
 To blunt the sharp December's blast. 
 
 Yet have I had my merry days. 
 
 For fortune, in the beggar's purse. 
 Sometimes her generous hand displays, 
 
 And oft remits her dreadful ciu-se : 
 Then, in the coal-fire corner gay. 
 
 My rags, my sores, my wants forgot, 
 No monarch threw the hoiirs away 
 
 So glad in his surpassing lot. 
 
 The dizzy ale reeled in my brain, 
 
 And unaccustomed pleasure flew 
 From song to song, and broke the chain, 
 
 That round me hate and evil drew: 
 A master, independent then. 
 
 The world seemed waiting at my call, 
 I reeled in bliss, and felt again 
 
 That man is man, despite of all. 
 
 Yes, bitter misery, thoti hast 
 
 Some compensations for thy bane, 
 And who so glad forgets the past 
 
 As he, to whom the past is paini 
 And the dark future, even to me 
 
 Hath prospects, that beguile it on; 
 I dread not wlmt I cannot see, 
 
 And hope, even while I starve and groan.
 
 11 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 Lo! the evening, how it cometla 
 
 O'er the golden western stream; 
 Lo ! the night- wind, how it moveth 
 
 In the shadow of the beam. 
 Come on gentleness, persuading 
 
 All things to thine own sweet Avill, 
 Till our hearts, at thy invading. 
 
 Lie, like mastered passions, still. 
 
 Lo ! the stream, how calm it glideth 
 
 Where it lately urged the mill; 
 Lo ! the shadow, how it strideth 
 
 Dark and darker down the hill. 
 Come, like miser to his money, 
 
 When his heart is glad vnth gain; 
 Come, like wild-bee to its honey. 
 
 Loaded from the bean-sweet plain. 
 
 Hark ! the bell of evening calleth 
 All that toil, and all that stray; 
 
 Like the pulse of sleep it falleth, 
 Wafted on the gust away.
 
 12 
 
 One by one its notes seem nearer: 
 Then they die along the vale, 
 
 Breathing, to the distant hearer, 
 Like some far-off nightingale. 
 
 Lo! the evenmg, how it jmrteth 
 
 With one golden streak of light ; 
 Where along the dim lake darteth 
 
 One last swimmer, scaly bright. 
 Lo ! the trees, with colder shiver. 
 
 Shake their branches o'er the stream ; 
 And the lights, that live for ever, 
 
 S^iarkle out, with keener gleam. 
 
 Fare thee well, soft hoTir, stealing 
 
 Over crowded mart and field; 
 And with generous bounty sealing 
 
 Eyes, anxiety unsealed. 
 Fare thee well, thou great devotion. 
 
 Thine the pillow, thine the stall ; 
 While around thee, night's dai'k ocean 
 
 Rolls its slumber over all.
 
 13 
 
 MADAME MERE. 
 
 Lady, I knew thee not, but thou. 
 
 So tried by life's vicissitude. 
 More than my friend, I seem to know 
 
 And feel thy kinship, more than blood : 
 For all that can elate, subdue; 
 The best, the worst, thy fortune knew. 
 
 When, cushioned on thy happy breast, 
 Thy smiles turned to thy son, 
 
 And thy maternal kisses pressed 
 That conqueror unknown, 
 
 Did hope, or fear, a glance reveal 
 
 Of all that thou wast doomed to feel 1 
 
 No, thou didst dream as mothers dream. 
 
 And pictvire his career 
 Tinged by prosperity's mild gleam, 
 
 And lightly touched by care, 
 Piussing away, in ripe old age. 
 The graven stone his only page.
 
 u 
 
 Or if, perchance, ambition stole, 
 While watching that yovuig eye, 
 
 The highest bias of thy soul 
 To fact were mockery: 
 
 Thou couldst not wish him half so gi'eat, 
 
 Nor ask such power, except in hate. 
 
 Some erminecl judge, some Bossuet, 
 
 Some hero of the hour, 
 Some Fleury, growing weak and gi'ey 
 
 With weak, degenerate power; — 
 These were thy loftiest hopes for him, 
 Whose glory grew the world's sole theme. 
 
 And, when event unveiled her face. 
 And showed the gifts she brought, 
 
 And lifted all her hero's race 
 
 To power undreamed, xmsought, , 
 
 And tliou, made glorious in that light, 
 
 Didst shine a jilanet in men's sight : 
 
 When glory shouted as he strode, 
 
 And wonder, gazing wild, 
 Ti-aced him o'er rock and mountain roiwl, 
 
 While nations were despoiled, — 
 Tlinn, with providing care, wast still 
 Prfpariiig for the mightier ill.
 
 15 
 
 *' These kings may yet want bread" — tliy heart, 
 
 Foreboding, tokl thee well, 
 Fate had but played an actor's part, 
 
 Her false mask sudden fell. 
 And armies, nations, crowns were i-ent, 
 And empire changed to banishment. 
 
 But suffering never wrung a tear 
 
 From thy undaunted eye. 
 For pride had taught thee how to bear 
 
 More even than misery; 
 And still, as grief on grief was sent. 
 The heroine I'aised what soitow bent. 
 
 Yet, yet thy solitary state, 
 The imperial wreck around. 
 
 The gauds, reminding thee how gi-eat 
 The heart they could bvit wound. 
 
 The bitter partings, and the lees 
 
 Of man's pretended sympathies: 
 
 These must have ate, with bitter fang. 
 
 Thy mournful hours away, 
 And, though thy jiride concealed the pang, 
 
 Yet wast thou still their prey; 
 And, year by year, thy lofty mind 
 Felt more, the less the lip repined.
 
 16 
 
 And when thy thought turned to that rock, 
 
 Wliere torture's bitter art 
 Lent his own eagle nerve to k)ck 
 
 Its talons in hi.s heart, 
 Did not thy blood, in secret thrill, 
 And agony o'ercome tlie will. 
 
 Aye, that unbent thee, but in vain, — 
 
 Too long had royal blood 
 Curdled beneath the sickening chain 
 
 Of his commanding mood ; 
 And who has mercy on the sting. 
 That changes pride to suffering? 
 
 And he, and all went, one by one, 
 Yet thou, svirviving, stood 
 
 Theii- shattered Niobe, alone, 
 The Pyrrha of the flood; 
 
 With nothing left, of race or home, 
 
 But recollection, and their tomb. 
 
 And now thou hast the commf)n lot, 
 
 And that eventful time 
 Is all removed, and half forgot 
 
 In fresh desires and crime ; 
 The fresh desii-es, that lead us on; 
 The crimes, that win as they have won.
 
 17 
 
 NIGHT ON THE SEA. 
 
 I floated on the deep ; — 
 
 Darkness was in tlie sky, and the stars ^hone; 
 
 The winds breathed deeply, like a midnight sleep, 
 And the pale waters curled, with onward sweep, 
 
 To shores, from which all pulse of life seemed gone. 
 
 Art thou that world, I cried. 
 That populous world I left but yesterday. 
 
 Where commerce was the bark, faction the tide 
 That wafted labom-, misery, and pride 
 To age, and weariness, and ultimate clay? 
 
 Hath man, the powerful there, 
 Power and empire on these floating plains, 
 That live and move with majesty severe. 
 And beat, with pulse-like throb, the impelling air, 
 And snap, in passion's rage, the anchor's chains?
 
 18 
 
 Hath lie to bondage bent 
 
 That head, whose locks are tossing foamy white, 
 
 And ploughed the face, that now with heaven is blent, 
 And in thy bowels mines and caverns rent, 
 
 And claimed thee for a heritage — a right? 
 
 Hath he enfenced thy plain, 
 Antl sown it with his corn, and oil, and wine, 
 
 And, with the sweat of vassals, gathered gi'ain ; 
 
 Making their toil, his rest; their want, his gain; 
 Antl drawn the fulness of his breast from thine? 
 
 Hath his constiiictive spell 
 Fretted with palaces thy amber sand, 
 
 And where the sii-ens and the mermaids dwell. 
 
 In halls of pearl, and labyiinths of shell, 
 Bent the resplendent waters to command"? 
 
 f p 1 
 
 hull langhest, solcmu sea. 
 
 And with a scoriifvd sweep tliou seem'st to say 
 "What is the power that shall fetter me, 
 Or stay nie in my strengtli, or make less free 
 
 The steed I ride on, or the ann 1 sway? 
 
 ••Tliinkest thou you feel)li' thing. 
 The (lav lioru Idler of a little clay. 
 
 With enoi- and dereptiou l)utl'etiiig. 
 
 Sliall oei- mv wa\('S his eoliweb Iiaruess Hing. 
 Ami turn me in mv wrath, and say me nay.
 
 19 
 
 "Though he has strength and skill, 
 And bears an artful and contriving hand, 
 And makes his thought a Titan, to fidfil 
 The projects and ambition of his will, 
 Anil shackles elements to his command : 
 
 "Yet on my shore he turns 
 
 Disheartened and o'ei-powered, great no more, 
 And, while my waves roll smilijigly, he learns 
 That earth contains a mightier power, that spurns 
 
 His arts, his proud pretension, and his lore." 
 
 Such voice I seemed to hear 
 Murmured along the surges, which the sky 
 
 Painted with grey, weak light, — so grey, so drear, 
 I turned from the pale glimmer, as it were 
 From spirit foi'ms, as gleam by gleam shot by. 
 
 I turned on either side 
 
 To pierce the heavy gloom that covei-ed all, 
 And search the way I travelled, Init the tide 
 Went onward, with no beacon for its guide, 
 
 Except the foam that fringed it like a pall. 
 
 And yet, in that thick gloom. 
 
 Faint shapes were shadowed, like the slia]»e;s of men,- 
 The old more aged, youth without its bloom, 
 And clothed in weedy garments, wove in loom 
 
 Deep in some briny cave, or sea-dog's den.
 
 20 
 
 Mctlitjuglit they seemed the dead, 
 Wliose phms and enterprise the storms laid low, 
 When scarce a rag of hope the rent sail spread, 
 And all prayed loud for mercy, while in dread 
 They felt death reel beneath them to and fro. 
 
 "What askest thon'?" then cried 
 A voice that came from no distinguished form — 
 "The world thou hast deprived me of," replied 
 A murmuring sound that faltered, and then sighed — 
 "Thy fiends raised up around us shoal and storm. 
 
 "Our vessel bore the strain 
 Of lireakers, and the indiscriminate iiish 
 
 Of winds, that drove along with hail and rain, 
 
 Till, foe to foe united, rent in twain 
 The groaning hulks, that sunk with bubbling gush. 
 
 "Oh ! give me back again 
 
 Tlie breath I lost, the ti-ue love never chill; 
 Children are wailing for me, but in vain, 
 And eyes, stretched anxiously across thy plain, 
 
 Seek me with tears, against hope hoping still." 
 
 The dusky waters made 
 
 A restless movement, and the form passed un; 
 And then there wandered past a pallid shade, 
 That heav'd deep groans, and, wrung with misery, pray 'd 
 
 The mighty sea to give back it alone.
 
 21 
 
 "For five and forty years 
 I toiled on eartli for riches, and, beliold, 
 
 With sweat, and labour, and unceasing cares. 
 All that the ailing body racks and wears, 
 I brought together merchandise and gold. 
 
 "And then, wlien all seemed past — 
 Labour and care, — and I was free and blest, 
 Thy breakers rushed on all I had amassed, 
 And strewed, like ashes on the piercing blast. 
 The wealth that robbed my youth of love and rest." 
 
 The flood, with grinning scorn, 
 
 Leered on its way, and seemed to yawn for more. 
 While troops upon the thin grey starlight borne, 
 Flitted along, heart-broken and forlorn, 
 
 The wrecks of wrecks, which tides and sands devour. 
 
 And then again their came 
 
 A mournful sound, like some wind-moaning shell, 
 Crjnjig — "Oh, water! when wilt thou be tame. 
 And cease to swallow life, leaving no name 
 
 Writ on thy waves, where shi-ieking thousands fell. 
 
 ' ' I was a prince of men ; 
 
 What slaves could do was mine, or earth could, bear ; 
 Yet, thou hast laid me in thy briny den, 
 Without a record from the venal pen. 
 
 Without the pauper's portion — hmiied prayer.
 
 22 
 
 "Yet, when I had my realm, 
 
 Men would have taught me that I ruled the sea, 
 And could the mighty monster overwhelm, 
 And in its fury take tlie mid-storm's lielm, 
 
 Ajid guide it — like my vassal — mastei'ly." 
 
 A freckled sti^eak of gi"ey 
 
 Shone in the east, as from my dream I woke; 
 I gazed, but the lean shades had passed away, 
 And billows, hasting to the commg day, 
 
 Athwart our rudder bold tuid foamy broke. 
 
 Onwai'd, with pressing sail, 
 As if she lived upon tlie breathing wind, 
 
 ( )ur vessel swept, while star by star grew pale, 
 And soon the beacon of om- home we hail, 
 Leaving the ruthless and the dreai- behind.
 
 23 
 
 MARIA. 
 
 When first I knew tliee all thy youth 
 
 Was blooming, wild, and bright; 
 Thy face was a leaf, where truth 
 
 Inscribed her words in light ; 
 Thy mind, where love and feeling met, 
 
 Shone like the dawn's young ray, 
 When, beautiful, we half regret 
 
 To see it change to day. 
 
 But, ere thy fifteenth summer fled. 
 
 We laid thee on thy bier, 
 And, though our tears were wildly shed. 
 
 We scarcely wished thee here ; 
 Such worth and gentleness seemed made 
 
 For purer realms than earth ; 
 And when we saw thy life-beam fiide. 
 
 It seemed less death than l)irtli. 
 
 But e'en such consolations made 
 
 Our sorrows spring anew, 
 And still, as round thy couch arrayed, 
 
 Thy last glance met the view; —
 
 24 
 
 And vain the bustle, vain the show 
 Of world-engaging things, — 
 
 Within our eyes tears seemed to flow- 
 As from a thousand springs. 
 
 Now years have passed, and we can bear 
 
 More calmly and resigned; 
 And tilings as brief, though far less dear, 
 
 Have lulled the sorrowing mind; — 
 But all the action, passion here. 
 
 In which our days consume, 
 Can never from the memory tear 
 
 Thy vii-tue, and thy bloom.
 
 25 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S TALE. 
 
 The last gan had fired, and the battle was won, 
 
 When we gathered oiu- straw, and prepared us for rest, 
 
 And drew out oui' canteens; while, hiding the sun, 
 
 The cloud snatched the eve from the storm-colored west. 
 
 " Cheer, comx^ade — -the foeman has seen us to-day 
 Tear his columns apart, and uncover Ids line ; 
 
 And, though many a heart lies at rest on the clay, 
 When victoiy crowns us, what lip can repine 1" 
 
 "'Tis time," said the Lancer, — who dashed from his eye 
 A tear, that had moistened his cheek — "and I know 
 
 That no bold one among you ere hastened to die — 
 More resolved than I rushed on the front of the foe. 
 
 And beside me rode one, who, through many a day, 
 Has shared in my toil, and partaken my bread; 
 
 By my pallet he watched, wlien I lingering lay 
 
 Struck by fever, that left me just spared from the do;id.
 
 26 
 
 In boyhood we sought the same spoi-ts, the same scliool; 
 
 Tlie same viUage nursed us afar in the west; 
 Thi'oiigh thickets and lanes, while accustomed to stroll, 
 
 How we })lanned the dark future, and made it all blest. 
 
 In the midst of the onset, a grim-bearded foe 
 
 Made a plunge, which a moment had laid me to rest, 
 
 When my comi'ade's qiiick lance turned the recreant blow, 
 Bat the stark blade "lanced off to his own faithful breast. 
 
 o* 
 
 What recks it that sunk the Huzzar at my feet? 
 
 What recks it how wildly I leaped from my steed, 
 And felt the poor heart give its last fluttered beat, 
 
 And saw the eye glaze as the life-spirit fled? 
 
 We are men — we must feel — and my swimming eye now 
 Sees no glory that di-ies up its tear for the dead ; 
 
 No laurel, which twines the victorious brow. 
 
 That can lessen my l)ang for the hero who bled."
 
 27 
 
 TURNER'S ITALY. 
 
 Wliat light was his, what cunning in the hand, 
 
 That thus could consecrate this web with scene, 
 And o'er few inches of bald space, expand 
 
 The glow of heaven, the wave, the life, the green. 
 Mile after mile dis])lays its lovely change, 
 
 And towers and valleys, sinking through the hills, 
 And the blue distance, through whose hazy range, 
 
 The vanishino: aerial distils. 
 
 'o 
 
 Where leads that water, in whose summer breast 
 
 The broken arch dijjs shadows, and the wood. 
 That, raised in slanting light, and half o'ercast. 
 
 Darkens the slope o'er many a leafy rood? 
 Wliat tower stands lonely, like a brilliant star? 
 
 The eve is blushijig on its time-worn face. 
 And the old battlements look out afar. 
 
 As if they guarded still that land of grace. 
 
 Seek they the foe? — no foe is thei*e, nor wai\ 
 Nor aught but ha]ipy summer in its glee, 
 
 And its sweet handmaidens of eax'th and aii". 
 The sun, the lazy wave, the bi-eezy ti-ee;
 
 28 
 
 Dying magnificence, that chains the eye 
 And woos imagination thence, to stray 
 
 Far o'er those moimtain boundaries, that lie 
 The hazy future of the pilgrim's way. 
 
 Wliat city stretches down that craggy slope, 
 
 On whose broad top the column and the wall 
 Show in what shrine the heathen's lifeless hope 
 
 Was built, and how it crumbled to its Mil 
 Arches on arches mount, where ivy creeps 
 
 And binds the tottering sculpture to its place, 
 And twining round the pagan marble, keeps 
 
 The living art of a forgotten race. 
 
 How the fail- eve enriches yon white shi-ine, 
 
 And gilds the arch of triumph, brighter there 
 Thaia when the conqueror, in trophied line, 
 
 With spoils and captives, passed in ivory car ; 
 When the applauding populace saw heaped 
 
 The riches of an empii-e, which one blaile 
 Had, as its harvest, without mercy reaped. 
 
 And down those streets with cruel p(.mp displayed. 
 
 Now nature, full of happy strength, is there ; — 
 
 'IMiat air, that green, that sunshine, that delight 
 ( )[' peasant limbs, those ardent sparks, that glare 
 
 On llie worn battlements and streeted height, 
 Are UDthiug l»ut wild beauty raciest, 
 
 Nothing but rare perfections, thrown with gi'ace, 
 Like a becoming robe above the bri'ast 
 
 Of the possessor of a hwivenly face.
 
 29 
 
 And those cold ember.s of d(;p;irted heat, 
 
 Those broken fragments of a former age, 
 Those pavements, worn away with perished feet; 
 
 Those towers, that defy no warrior's rage; 
 Tliose arches that have borne the brilliant weight 
 
 Of armies, yet have sunk beneath the strain 
 Of dews and mosses, and the constant fret 
 
 Of winds, deep laden with autumnal rain : — 
 
 What speak they? For, in spiritual tone, 
 
 There comes an utterance out of their decay, 
 Bolder than that which moved men, when the gown 
 
 Lifted its folds to check some tyrant's sway; 
 When all the forum swayed beneath hot words. 
 
 And passion, with its ready clamour, bent 
 Towards the speaker's thought, until the swords 
 
 Of popular fury crushed some hard event. 
 
 What speak they? Heap uj) wealth, and entail lands. 
 
 And write thy deeds in marble, and proclaim 
 Thy rank from shore to slioi'e, till thy commands 
 • Are more than Oajsar's wei'e; yet thy great name 
 Shall be more frail than yon glad peasant's dance, — 
 
 Shall crumble sooner than those arches down, — 
 While nature, with glad health and joyous glance, 
 Shidl give immortal dowry to the clown. 
 
 Yet 'tis a moment only that the brush 
 
 Has wrested from oblivion, — on, on 
 Its fellow time has travelled in the crush 
 
 Of moments, vanishing as soon as won;
 
 ■M) 
 
 Yet never will that summer eve depart, 
 
 Never will those rich sliadows waste to night; 
 
 No axe will fell that tree; no after smart 
 
 Will pain those peasants, dancing in the light: 
 
 Never shall earthquake roll that rocky height 
 
 On that old city, dying at its foot. 
 And no invidious cloud shall blot that light. 
 
 Which glows, and gilds, and charms the gazer mute; 
 But ever beavity, ever full of peace. 
 
 That happy scene shall cheer the jaded eye; 
 And still suggesting; still, with rich increase. 
 
 Its tale shall warm a long posterity.
 
 31 
 
 HYMN OF THE LAEK. 
 
 A lark within the cloud was singing,^ 
 " Can I thank Thee, God of heaven, — 
 
 Can the voice that 1 am ^\dnging, — 
 Tell the bliss Thy love has given? 
 
 All Thy givings are imbounded, 
 Save the voice to count them o'er, 
 
 And my uttering thi'oat confounded, 
 Quivers still to utter more. 
 
 Still I struggle to approach Thee 
 On Thy throne of summer light. 
 
 Till my flagging wings reproach me 
 With the paltry b(junds of flight. 
 
 Thou hast filled my hours with pleasure; 
 
 Seci'et, in yon Vjladed field, 
 Lies my heart's delighted treasui-e, 
 
 Midst the matted weeds concealed.
 
 32 
 
 Near it waves the green corn-flower, 
 Sparkling daises round it press, 
 
 And over it, through the sun and shower, 
 I try how much my heart can bless. 
 
 Sweetly there, in woolly lining, 
 Treasures of my love are laid ; 
 
 Pearly gems, with grey spots shining, 
 Sheltered snug by flower and blade. 
 
 Was it weariness that gathered 
 Spray and dry leaf for that nest. 
 
 And the slim construction feathered 
 With the plumage of my breast*? 
 
 No, 'twas love, that had no ending, 
 Day by day I strive to speak 
 
 All its passion, coldly blending 
 What is boundless with the weak. 
 
 Pity, pity great Creator, 
 
 These poor wings that strive to soar; 
 Make, O God, these praises greater, 
 
 Make the mean and little more. 
 
 Take, great heaven, the endeavour 
 For the love it would express ; 
 
 And, in strains that nng for ever. 
 Lift the heart to })raise and bless."
 
 33 
 
 LINES TO THE RAIN CLOUD. 
 
 Hail! great provider, that dost now 
 
 Mantle the sultry plain, 
 And, with thy living overflow, 
 
 Suckle the budding grain. 
 
 Whence came that wine of gladness foi'th 
 
 The thii'sty earth to cheer, 
 And nourish, in its tender birth, 
 
 Each youngling of the year? 
 
 Wast thou dispatched from tropic shores, 
 Where monsoons urged thee on. 
 
 And, wrapt in gloom, the passionate hours 
 Held back the pitying sun? 
 
 Perchance, — on frozen north winds sj)read. 
 
 Round isles of winter himg, 
 ^A^'liere deserts stretch out, white and dead,- 
 
 The storm thy cradle swung.
 
 34 
 
 'Jliort; tlioii didst ride in bitter cold 
 
 Tlie melancholy waste, 
 And o'er tlie white wolfs icy hold 
 
 Shiidows and snow-stomis cast. 
 
 Or wast thou born in tranquil hours, 
 
 By sapjihire skies confined, 
 Thy milk — the drench of dewy flowers; 
 
 Thy steed — the southern windl 
 
 Oi" liast thou been some Alp's grey \'est. 
 Where whirling sleet and rack, — 
 
 From heights beyond the vulture's nest, — 
 Shut up the dangerous track] 
 
 There, shaking gloomily thy Itrow 
 
 Of angry snow and hail, 
 'j'he hei'dsman, trembling, saw thee grow 
 
 Dark o'er his speckhxl vale. 
 
 Or on a breezy voyage of light 
 Thou sailst from s<^itheiTi laiuls; 
 
 Striding the death- winds in their iliglit 
 O'er salt and her bless sands. 
 
 Tliei'e fainting, weary, cast away, 
 
 The Arab's glazing eye 
 Saw thee, with hop(>'s nwakeniug ray, 
 
 Even as he turned to die.
 
 35 
 
 Perchance in wanior beams aiTayed 
 
 Round tlie victorious sun, 
 Thy glittering standards were displayed, 
 
 As oer some battle won. 
 
 Or thou didst over ocean chase 
 
 Tlie slavei' niajht and dav, 
 The lightning burning on thy face 
 
 To scourge his guilty way. 
 
 Thou bathest in dew the daisy fields 
 
 Arouiid our English home; 
 While at thy touch, the bee-flower yields 
 
 Honey and- honey-comb. 
 
 The primrose, hid beneath gi'ey leaves, 
 
 Like beauty in its tomb, 
 Feels thy ripe influence, and weav&s 
 
 Its robe of April bloom. 
 
 And, with the snowdrop round her head. 
 
 Spring lifts her violet eye. 
 And hastes, with bud and blossom spread. 
 
 To hire thee from the sky. 
 
 ISTor less for summer's thii'sty lip 
 
 Thy teemuig udder flows, 
 When through the briar thy pattering drip 
 
 Draws incense from the rose;
 
 36 
 
 And througli tlie lines of green young corn, 
 
 Thy coming starts the hare; 
 When in the listening dewy dawn, 
 
 Thy gay arch spans the air; 
 
 And when old Autumn's Bacchant face 
 
 Glows with ripe clusters red, 
 And beauty lends her last sad grace 
 
 To dying and the dead; — 
 
 Thou, with thy constant weeping dews. 
 
 Dost still his blooms befriend, 
 And midst their mournful smiles, diffvise 
 
 Green beavity to the end. 
 
 Oh, welcome comer! but for thee 
 
 Earth were the desert's slave ; 
 And all these scenes, so bold and free, 
 
 One universal grave!
 
 37 
 
 THE MAGICIAN. 
 
 In ages, now the fable's tale, 
 
 There lived a man of magic power, 
 Who coixld to age its youth recall, 
 
 Aiid load with age the stiipling's horn-; 
 And ever roimd his portal clnng 
 
 His votaries — a motley train, 
 The young — to be no longer young, 
 
 The aged — to be young again. 
 
 And still he changed the fretted brow 
 
 To glossy locks and rosy health, 
 And turned the boy's belicAdng glow 
 
 To hard distrust and selfish wealth; 
 And yet incessant round him drew 
 
 The same beseeching crowd, who cx-ied — 
 'I would again my youth renew;" — 
 
 "Oh give me age," the youthful sighed: — 
 
 'What though my steps were halt and slow, 
 
 And pains my portion daily grew. 
 And rigid lines left on my bi'ow 
 
 The seals of strife, that pierced me through.
 
 38 
 
 Still tliey were battles lost or won, 
 
 Their wretched agony was o'er, 
 All l)nt their painless scars were gone, 
 
 Their perished vengeance racked no more. 
 
 " But now the beauties thou dost give 
 
 Are but for miseries to wound ; 
 The strengt.h renewed is but to strive, 
 
 Where strife defeat alone ha.s fonnd. 
 The love, the boldness that will dare 
 
 All natui'e in its boundless aim 
 Is passion, laying snare on snare. 
 
 To break the heai*t it cannot tame." . 
 
 The young, gro^vn old, looked back and sighed- 
 
 "Alas, why gave I youth away, 
 And wished for man's excelling pride, 
 
 Lui-ed by his thought and lofty sway; — 
 Though smaller was my playground's bound 
 
 Than stretching acres widely sown, . 
 Yet there the gay lieai-t never found 
 
 A bliss it felt ashamed to OAvn. 
 
 "What recks this sovereign sway that gi'ows 
 
 Too weak to calm its own hiofh blood : 
 That gathers till its bam o'erflows. 
 
 And crops tjie wide earth, rood by rood. 
 Fast as its shining riches })<)ui-. 
 
 They cannot warm the cooling limb, 
 Or dye the brow's encroaching hoar, 
 
 Or couch the eye, grown weak ami dim."
 
 39 
 
 Tlius tlie complaining tide flowed on, 
 
 Railing alike on every side, 
 And hating what their wishes won, 
 
 No less than what their power denied. 
 Oh man, vain creature of the hour — - 
 
 N"ay, of the passing moment's span. 
 Whom all things nourish, all devour, — 
 
 Sure change itself is on.j man. *
 
 40 
 
 THE RECRUIT. 
 
 Wliy weep you, girl, because I cliange 
 
 My coarse field fix)ck for erunson coat, 
 And seek, amid the workl's great I'ange, 
 
 A bokler than the plovigkman's lot ; — 
 True, I have loved you, and the hut 
 
 Wliere I was bom is dear, though mean, 
 And each familial' haunted spot 
 
 Revives some pleasure that has been. 
 
 No matter, I have heaitl how bright 
 
 And gaily life in camps goes on, 
 The sei'geant showed how many a tight 
 
 Was won by noble Wellington. 
 He told us how the brave may rise 
 
 And shine 'mid lords, and earls, and stars. 
 And rouse a nation's bold sxirprise 
 
 Witli actions that determine wai-s. 
 
 I scorned the ploughshare when I heard. 
 And vowed to try the nobler art; 
 
 I pledged my honour, — and the word 
 Has never cost a moment's smart :
 
 41 
 
 For tliy regard will only rise, 
 And urge me into danger's way, 
 
 That, in some noble enterprise, 
 
 Thy love may trace me, day by day. 
 
 Perchance I go to other climes. 
 
 And traverse half the world to die; 
 But 'tis the peril that sublimes 
 
 The life we stake for victory : 
 While maimed, my country will not cast 
 
 My useless limbs to draw the eye 
 Of cold compassion, hurrying past 
 
 The lip that craves its charity. 
 
 I may repent me, and may say. 
 
 Ah, now they sow the generous gi'ound, 
 And now they whet the scythes for hay, 
 
 And now the frothy cup goes roimd, 
 And now the harvest far and wide, 
 
 Is hurrying labour o'er the plain, 
 And wild huzzas rise, as they stride 
 
 The last slow load of tawny grain. 
 
 And I may think of evenings past, 
 
 Wlien, sauntering down the hazel lane, 
 My heart, with foolish, forward haste, 
 
 Made vows it never can sustain. 
 But these are nought — they may not be, 
 
 Blind fortune may protect and save. 
 And the consenting world agree 
 
 With all the promises it gave.
 
 42 
 
 Metliinks we ai'e not all so bold 
 
 As we would wisli; for, as I gaze, 
 My eyes gi-ow tearful, and enfold 
 
 All my familiar haunts in haze. 
 The school, the church, the lawn, the mill, 
 
 Where'er my younger hours were cast. 
 Makes a weak woman of my will. 
 
 And draws a softening sigh at la.st.
 
 43 
 
 THE LIFE-BOAT. 
 
 1. 
 Tlie ship was sailing gallantly, 
 
 Her canvas all outspread ; 
 The wind was whistling in her shrouds, 
 
 And wailing overhead; 
 Yet on she flashed along the sea, 
 
 Ajid cut the creamy tide, 
 And thi-ew it back, in shivered spray. 
 
 Athwart her creaking side. 
 Three months are gone, since, glad for home, 
 
 She left the southern main. 
 And wooed the traders to her side, 
 
 And dared the hurricane; — 
 Three months are gone, biit now at last 
 
 Her port is hard at hand, 
 Ajid, ere the night, they hope to hear 
 
 The mast-head boy shout — Land. 
 But gloomily the day has past, 
 
 And night draws swiftly on, 
 The watch is set; and, with a sigh. 
 
 He marks the setting sun —
 
 44 
 
 Sattiuo; amid the cratherino' clouds 
 That drape the gloomy west, 
 
 As if some corpse were lying there, 
 With cerecloth on its bi'east. 
 
 2 
 
 It comes! The storm hath flashed its sign, 
 
 TliHU sullen, growls afar; 
 It comes ! the signal hath been fired — 
 
 The heavens are bent on war; 
 Tilt" fui-ious band are up — they rush — 
 
 The canvas flies— the ship 
 Reels in the surge, and feels her keel 
 
 Strain in the storm-wave's grip. 
 A bow-shot leeward lies the shore, — 
 
 The watcher from the mast 
 Saw the grim headland, when the sun 
 
 His final blood-beam cast; 
 And now it lies in mist and foam, 
 
 The helmsman knows not where, 
 But casts about to catch its point 
 
 Amid the lightning's glare. 
 
 3 
 
 With bout eyes straining through the gloom 
 
 A woman lingei-s there. 
 And clas])s a boy, and moves her lips 
 
 In li)w, beseeching prayer. 
 " ^ly mother ! thon art trembling. 
 
 And thy glance is fixed and wild !
 
 45 
 
 Oh mother ! more than all the stonu, 
 
 Thy look alarms thy child. 
 You told me as the gliding seas 
 
 Rolled white before the wind, 
 And baffling gales and fogs came on, 
 
 They brought thy home to mind ; 
 You told me how the welcome lip, 
 
 The welcome clasping hand, 
 The heart-glad smile, the blessing warm 
 
 Would hail us to the land ; 
 You told me how the bounteo\is feast, 
 
 And friends aroimd would greet 
 The gold-field rovers to the shore, — 
 
 Theii- father's hallowed seat." 
 
 "Hush! hush my boy; though but a span 
 
 Divides us from our home. 
 Where we in peace may calmly rest, 
 
 And never after roam ; 
 Yet in that span I see the shapes 
 
 Of hideoiis demons loom ; 
 I see the glaring, eager eyes, 
 
 Shoot lightnings in the gloom; 
 I hear their voice — ^it shouts and Ik > wis 
 
 In risrofing and in shrouds. 
 And piercing through the tossing night, 
 
 Growls thimder from the clouds ; 
 The mast sways, gi-oaning, and the Hues 
 
 Sing out a burial dirge,
 
 46 
 
 And a grave yawns to cover us, 
 
 In every ci'ested surge. 
 Oh God preserve us ! only Thou 
 
 Canst lay the rabid wind, 
 And touch the waves with hariulessness, 
 
 And guide the weak and blind." 
 
 5 
 Ha ! what was tliati — the ship lias struck - 
 
 She grates upon the rock; 
 She rises now, and now again 
 
 She thuds with quivering shock; 
 The waves rush on her, tearing ofi' 
 
 The armour of her sides. 
 And, spar by spar, her decks upturn — 
 
 Her riven keel divides. 
 
 6 
 
 "But mother, look ! look forward ! see ! 
 
 Along the yeasty crown 
 Of wave by wave, a dusky line 
 
 Is boldly bearing down, — 
 A flash hath opened up the scene — 
 
 It floats like sea-fowl on. 
 And rowers to their broad oars lean, 
 
 'Tis there ! ah, now 'tis gone !" 
 "It comes! the life-boat comes to save; 
 
 My ]joy, thou yet shalt see 
 Thy mothers home, and share her love 
 
 Beneath the chcsnut tree."
 
 47 
 
 KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 Back to yoiu' dismal shelves, ye ci'aven slaves 
 
 Of human thought, 
 Hurrying these fragile frames to early graves, 
 
 And yielding nought; 
 Enticing with bland arts fresh votaries on. 
 
 From theme to theme, 
 And giving nothing, when the task is done, 
 
 But dream for dream. 
 
 Five thousand years the inquiiing world hath run, 
 
 Boastiaag with pride 
 Of ignorance destroyed, and knowledge won. 
 
 And art spread wide ; — 
 Crying, Behold the wealth that I have given 
 
 To craft and skill ! 
 Yet the old mysteiies of earth and heaven 
 
 Are mysteries still. 
 
 Still do we see the future, as a shore 
 
 Covered with shade; 
 And even the past is clouded with the lore 
 
 That it displayed.
 
 48 
 
 We stand as doubtful and as erring now 
 
 As Adam stood 
 When the new world burst on him, and its glow 
 
 Was fresh from God. 
 
 Yet, day by day, discovery to her heap 
 
 Adds something new, 
 And on our sluggish senses seem to ci-eep 
 
 Towards the true; 
 Invention plies her skill, and turns the wheel 
 
 Of every art ; 
 Till nature seems about to break her seal, 
 
 And all impart. 
 
 Yet little do we gain but selfish ease, 
 
 And personal pride; 
 A softer couch, the wealth that distant seas 
 
 In islands hide; 
 A steed that scours the land with broader chest, 
 
 And longer rein; 
 Cords that bind down the lightning, and invest 
 
 Earth in their chain. 
 
 The Forum and the Senate stake belief 
 
 In opposite creed; 
 Here truth is but the interests of some chief. 
 
 And there, 'tis greed; 
 Sometimes it works its bold, unlimited coiu-se, 
 
 With earnest grace, 
 And tlien it seeks, through dirty paths, to force 
 
 The way to place.
 
 49 
 
 Betrayed by wire-di'iiwii thoughts, the little grows 
 
 Vast in our sight, 
 Aiid, victims of the false our rules impose, 
 
 We call gloom, light: 
 We grope mid snares and gins, and think we win 
 
 The never won : 
 And then we tui-n us, and again begin 
 
 The task begun. 
 
 Cold disappointment looks, with vacant leer. 
 
 On half we do; 
 And what we call success is oft a snai's 
 
 We live to rue; 
 Vainly we strive to estimate the woi-th 
 
 Of what seems best; 
 For oft the mean and feeble things of eai'th 
 
 Are most carest. 
 
 We grow delighted with our vain belief, 
 
 . And swell with pride. 
 And strut o'er notions, destined to deceive 
 
 The steps they guide; 
 Yet even deception, while it cheats our puwei-s 
 
 With vain debate. 
 Is all the guide that ever may be ours 
 
 In this vague state. 
 
 But ways as blind, and objects sepai-ate 
 
 From what they grew, 
 Have disciplined lawless force, and luade the state 
 
 Compact and ti'ue;
 
 50 
 
 Struggles of serf and lord, and lord and ci'own, 
 
 Have built control; 
 And violent passions, out of rage, have gi-own 
 
 Excellent rule. 
 
 Then let us ti-ust the vague, and blind, and ill, 
 
 That gird us round, 
 Persuaded that their energies fulfil 
 
 Some end profound; 
 That where we see but eiTor, there may be 
 
 A germ of good 
 Hidden, like fruit in winter's leafless tree, 
 
 Bud within bud.
 
 bl 
 
 MARCH. 
 
 'Tis March, the month of cold and -vmid, 
 
 And warm deceitful days; 
 When all the heavens arch beautiful 
 
 Through glowing azure haze. 
 
 'Tis March, the sullen, bleak, and dull. 
 
 Draggled with fog and rain ; 
 Or, full of fury, scouring earth. 
 
 And foaming o'er the main. 
 
 The passionate youth, the pensive boy, 
 
 It turns from rage to glee. 
 And, while it smiles, quick temper breaks 
 
 Out of serenity. 
 
 But we forgive these angiy hours 
 
 Their riot and their fight. 
 When, on our garden beds and bowers, 
 
 The pale bud comes to sight.
 
 52 
 
 The violet heeds not hail and snow; 
 
 But, under hedge and heath, 
 Glints, even hastening to endow 
 
 The coarse gale with its breath : 
 
 And the mild primrose, which the wood 
 Loves to protect, throws forth 
 
 Her saffron leaflet mid the rude 
 Disoi-ders of the north. 
 
 And what so beavitiful as youth — 
 As youth with pride su})prest? 
 
 And what so shines as modest truth, 
 Where knowledge tills the breast? 
 
 And what so beautiful as March, 
 When March lays by his hail ; 
 
 And, in tlie l)road, o'ercapping arch, 
 Locks up the north-sea gale? 
 
 AVlio would not rove his lusty woods. 
 And trace his babbling brooks; 
 
 When, with the scent of velvet buds. 
 He fills the Dryad nooks 1 
 
 ^oi-th — though we cannot yet discard 
 The hearth, where winter long. 
 
 We chatted through the frost, and heard 
 The savage blast give tongue.
 
 5.3 
 
 But we can vary it with skies, 
 
 That lead us once again 
 Trt woods of twittering melodies, 
 
 And fields of broad green grain ; 
 
 Where all the life and gifts to come 
 
 Smile like a cradled boy; 
 And, as from that sweet face of bloom 
 
 We gather nought but joy; — 
 
 So from the promises of spring 
 We sift mischance and blight. 
 
 And hail the bud, and hail the wing, 
 And hail the dewy light.
 
 54 
 
 LINES 
 TO A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY. 
 
 Lady, I praise tliee not to call thee fair, 
 
 Or count the blushes that display thy brow. 
 Or tell how many graces bind thy hair. 
 
 And give thy neck the glance of Alpine snow; — 
 I praise thee not, for all is dangerous here 
 
 That soars above the gathered crowd around, 
 And that which makes thee beautiful and dear, 
 
 Is b\it the lure to catch, the mark to wound. 
 
 The rose is himg in thorn, the pearl is hid 
 
 In plated shell; and thou, more rare than they, 
 Shouldst, with a proud resolve, each glance forbid. 
 
 That smiles to win, and wins but to betray. 
 For not in arms, with standard o'er his head. 
 
 Comes on the foe, to lead thee to disgivace; 
 Nor, stealing, like the midnight burglar, led 
 
 To draw the jewel from its hiding place : 
 
 But, to thy humor bending, he shall seem 
 The keystone of thy hopes, the bond of all ; 
 
 And while thy eyes, with burning language, gleam, 
 And love's warm lights avoimd thy roses fall.
 
 55 
 
 And time flies on with necromatic wings, 
 
 And all o'erflows -with health and i-estless joy, 
 
 And the heart closer to its fondness clings, 
 The studied purpose cheats thee to destroy. 
 
 Behind the spoiler laughs, and masks his brow, 
 
 On which his bitter errand is portrayed, 
 Heaving hi^ sides, to see the blushes gi-ow 
 
 In the heart's earliest innocence arrayed ; 
 And as each dimple marks, with brighter line, 
 
 Some feature, which thy hope elated wears, 
 The tyrant cries exulting, — It is mine ! 
 
 There shall roll down the torrent of my tears : 
 
 That blood is mine, whose crimson gathers now 
 
 Like the young morning on the eastern sky; 
 I'll wreathe the hemlock round that lily brow, 
 
 And heave that laughing breast with sigh on sigh; 
 And all those eager limbs, that briskly play, 
 
 Shall need the crutch to bear them from the ground; 
 Till, bending near and nearer to the clay. 
 
 They sink at once, as by a sudden wovuid. 
 
 Beautiful vision ! would thou eouldst evade 
 
 These silent footsteps of gi*ey-haired decay. 
 And, ever laughing in the orange shade, 
 
 Trample the woi-m, that hastens to its prey; 
 But 'tis in vain, in vain ! — though thou dost cool 
 
 Thy blood, with air in polar frosts refined. 
 And shuttest winter out with bales of wool. 
 
 And raisest stone and oak against the wind :
 
 56 
 
 Thoiigli tliou Jo.st wash tliee in tlie droiu-li of Howevs, 
 
 And dost anoint with consecrated oil, 
 The tyrant, leading the obedient hours, 
 
 Mows down the ranks of life, and gleans their spoil. 
 And nothing from this scene can we remove, 
 
 Nothing of woi-tli or pleasure, bnt that trust, 
 Which, still siirpassing beauty, friendship, love, 
 
 Blooms, holy with salvation, from oiu- dust.
 
 SCENE NEAR NOTTINGHAM. 
 
 Halt and look joimd ;— a pastoral scene 
 
 Stretches beneath this hill, 
 Where man and nature, hand in hand, 
 
 Have blent their separate skill. 
 Nor vainly this far-spreading page 
 
 Of natnre rolls away, 
 And turns from the distinct and near 
 
 To distance— misty grey. 
 
 What is itl — river, meadow, hill ; 
 
 A town that slopes the height. 
 The busy farm, the breezy mill, 
 
 And woods, that spot the light. 
 What are theyl— all that daily meet, 
 
 On every side, the eye. 
 Yet here, united, exercise, 
 
 What, sepai-ate, they deny. 
 
 And yet we know not -wdiei'efore, bound 
 
 As by some subtle ]iower, 
 The eye flows with that zony stream 
 
 Beneath the rock-built tower;
 
 58 
 
 Nor why that sail, so far away, 
 
 Sends its reflected light 
 Along the heart, and lifts the sense 
 
 To many a dreamy flight. 
 
 The town — stretched widely down the steep, 
 
 With mansions, shafts, and towers 
 Fretting its broad-built slaty sweep. 
 
 Midst meads and cottage flowers — 
 Girds in its clay ten thousand men. 
 
 Eager for life and gain, 
 Its streets are thronged, its factories hum, 
 
 Its sellers' chafe and strain. 
 
 Enter its portal ; — every way 
 
 Is filled with ardent life, 
 And passions eagerly contend 
 
 In never ending strife; 
 Want ever urges some for bread, 
 
 Some ofiice crave, some power. 
 And life, in constant battle whelmed. 
 
 Knows no reposing hour. 
 
 Yet, when this inner tide is spent 
 
 In vapory space away. 
 That haunted, restless hive displays 
 
 Only a shell of clay. 
 On rolls its faction, and its tongues 
 
 In busy bargains heat, 
 And luxury, and ragged want, 
 
 Jostle in every street.
 
 59 
 
 Yet, from this spot, how beautiful 
 
 Those towers and columns show. 
 Like banners o'er the troiibled bands. 
 
 That press and toil below ! 
 And how the culture, scattered round, 
 
 Eeeling with plenteous store, 
 Seems like a table, spread by heaven, 
 
 At every cottage door! 
 
 Delusion; — yet no matter — life 
 
 Filled deep with the imtrue, 
 Gives to each understanding heart 
 
 Its own pecidiar view; 
 Though rankest passions rage and sweep 
 
 Round beauty's bosom love, 
 Where'er it bears a dove-like mien, 
 
 It is to us the dove. 
 
 Why should we seek to pry and search 
 
 Corruption in its den. 
 Or strive to wake his hate who finds 
 
 An Eden in a fen? 
 Aye, that is bliss, and bliss alone 
 
 Wliile youth's sweet errors still 
 Urge the unconscious mmd with hopes, 
 
 life never can fulfil.
 
 GO 
 
 LINES TO A RIVER. 
 
 Great artery of nations, bearing on, 
 
 Through wild impediments, thy restless flood ;- 
 Now — like a coui'ser in a race nigh won. 
 
 Now — like a mourner to her gi'ief subdued. 
 
 &"• 
 
 Thy life was cradled in the granite rock, 
 
 Where frost, unchecked by summer, ruleth lord; 
 
 Where sits the vulture, cowering from the shock 
 Of blasts, that rake those summits like a sword. 
 
 Afixr, on pastureel clifiii, the chalet stood, 
 
 Whence piped the distant herdsman's mountain song, 
 Or eagle-screamings, o'er their meal of blood, 
 
 Came back, re-screamed by echo's babblmg tongue. 
 
 But if such dreary scenes first marked thy way, 
 When, from those icy caves, thy streamlet burst, 
 
 It soon glanced darkly in the snowy ray, 
 A wavelet, grateful to thi' cliamois' thirst.
 
 r.i 
 
 And then thy quiet murmur, whimpering low 
 To the pale moonbeam, as it lay at rest 
 
 Folding thee sweetly, like our will, upgrew 
 
 The voice of strength and passion in thy breast. 
 
 Then down the craggy steep, blindly and strong. 
 Raging, as if to goad the solid stone, 
 
 Thy waters leapt, like fiery youth along. 
 
 While rainbow beauty gii't thee with its zone. 
 
 But soon, on quiet plains, thy tender kiss 
 
 Made meadows smile with many a bashful bloom. 
 
 And green-leaved branches glow as if with bliss. 
 And vegetation ply her flowery loom : 
 
 Beside thee many a lonely village grew, 
 
 And cattle sought thee far to drink and lave, 
 
 And overarching, the endiu-ing blue. 
 
 Lay, like another heaven, beneath thy wave. 
 
 But lovely scenes, and flowers, and quiet plains 
 Delay thee not ; — on, like oiu* restless mind, 
 
 Thy waters sped to unexplored domains. 
 Lea vino; the rich and beautiful behind. 
 
 "O 
 
 Even when delighted, we seek new delight, 
 
 . Our gain to-day prompts but to-morrow's quest, 
 The riches we possess are only might 
 
 Still to press forward to the unpossessed.
 
 62 
 
 On to the busy mart, the loaded quay, 
 
 The smoke, the bustle, and the hissing train; 
 
 The pressing crowd, where l^arter's petty fee, 
 Makes life a gambler's stake of loss and gain. 
 
 Yet even there thou restest not, although 
 
 The treasures of the world are on thy breast, 
 
 And men with coronets engird thy bi'ow, 
 Richer than ever emperor possessed: — 
 
 The helm, that left its wake in Indian seas, 
 
 And steered its charge through storm and rocky swell; 
 
 The sail, that caught the power of the breeze. 
 And curbed it to the service of the keel. 
 
 The flag waves o'er thee with a conqueror's sway, 
 The wheel frets through thee with a foamy swell. 
 
 The sailor hails thy night-light far away. 
 
 For on thy banks his wife and cliildren dwell. 
 
 Yet from the meeting hands, and loving hearts. 
 From traffic's flattering energy and power; 
 
 From all the world's great gain and teeming marts, 
 Thy current coldly lapses, hour by hour. 
 
 Forward it hurries toward miglitier floods. 
 And strength and beaiity follf)W it no more; 
 
 like man, who, gathering weakness with his roods, 
 Dies from them storeless, though oppressed with store.
 
 63 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Spent with the interminable road, 
 
 A traveller sought his evening rest, 
 And spread his i-ush, and gathered wood, 
 
 And hasted on his poor repast : 
 The vast black forest lay before, 
 
 A pathless mass of leaf and shade. 
 Where fir and pine, like ocean-roar, 
 
 A hoarse and shingly murmur made. 
 
 And whei-efore toil-worn, dusty, spent, 
 
 With thorn-rent vest, and aching feet; 
 With frame to want severely bent. 
 
 Hath that man pressed through toil and heat? 
 Far, far beyond the broad champaign 
 
 Where forests dver forests rise, 
 The eye may trace a mountain chain. 
 
 Edging, with deeper blue, the skies. 
 
 Beyond those mountains lies a land, 
 Where riches, hoarded year by year. 
 
 Have turned the flood through golden sand, 
 And summoned slave and worshipiier.
 
 (-.4 
 
 And thither men are hurrying keen, 
 With hearts to gravest sorrows sokl; 
 
 Hurrying from every generous scene, 
 To glean the rugged desert's gold. 
 
 Oh, Sacramento, long unknown 
 
 The bison lai)ped thy unprized flood ; 
 The heron, as the sun went down, 
 
 Watching thy tinny watei-s, stood; 
 Or sat the Indian, on thy shore, 
 
 TvvistLnar her shells with links of bone, 
 And braiding sparkles of thy ore. 
 
 To grace the dance, and bridal moon. 
 
 Now, tent, and hut, and clamorous men 
 
 Break on the quiet of thy wave, 
 And loudly, down thy golden glen, 
 
 Quarrels and competitions rave; 
 And fever, with insidious fang, 
 
 Grasps expectation's sanguine mind. 
 And disappointment's bitter pang, 
 
 Blights those, whom fever leaves behind. 
 
 Tliither that weary man is led. 
 
 Who sits beside the forest stream. 
 And makes dry rush and leaves his betl, 
 
 And wistful marks the setting beam; 
 And dreams that land, which, now all tire, 
 
 Glows brighter than the ore it yields, 
 Will (juiet ]mssionat(' desire. 
 
 With gifts that each alUiction shields.
 
 65 
 
 Fai- hath he trod ; — a vine- wreathed cot, 
 
 Beside a woodland, was his o-wn; 
 With broad green acres roimd the spot. 
 
 Where herds were scattered up and down. 
 And there, o'erflowing harvests shared 
 
 Theii* piles of grain and swelling fruit ; 
 And there the bounteous wine cup cheered, 
 
 Wlien all was stored, with dance and lute. 
 
 But field, and grain, and homstead grew 
 
 Dull to the heai't possessed with gold, 
 And down their living hopes he threw. 
 
 To seek the riches deserts hold. 
 And vainly gentle nature cried — 
 
 As on he passed, more worn and weary — 
 "Here, stay by this clear cooling tide; 
 
 Why seek the fabulous and di'eary? 
 
 "Here lies the lake, with woody fringe, 
 
 And there the meadow's flowery sward, 
 By yonder mountaiia's scarlet tinge. 
 
 Lies plenty, waiting for her lord. 
 Lo, here thy plough shall yield thee gold. 
 
 And here thy herds will multiply, 
 Here mayst thou gather fold on fold, 
 
 And, like a prosperous monarch, die!" 
 
 "Ah no, — the swift-enriching ore 
 
 Shall please me more than meadowy green, 
 I care not for the herdsman's store, 
 
 I care not foi- the woodland scene ; —
 
 6G 
 
 The profits of extorted toil, 
 Are fiuuine to the golden gain, 
 
 Where Sacramento throws her spoil 
 Of uncoined riches o'er the plain. 
 
 "Oh, give me Sacramento's sand, 
 
 And all the best of earth is mine ; 
 Her shadiest wood, her bi'oadest land, 
 
 Her slaves, her arts, her oil, her wiiie. 
 Then will I spurn the cold ideal, 
 
 And scatter fancy's doubtful brood, 
 And make the wildest hope, the real, 
 
 And prove by certainty the good." 
 
 "Nay, turn, — behold yon city gi'ey. 
 
 Mid purple shades of wood and vale, 
 Where marble towers catch the ray. 
 
 That flings its glance from wharf and sail;- 
 There busy trade — the tire, the loom 
 
 Win fortune as a lovely bride. 
 And consecrate her happy bloom 
 
 To health, that gambols at her side." 
 
 " I seek no crowded city street. 
 
 Where competition's discords strive; 
 And rival hearts, that in hatred meet, 
 
 Anxious to live, and not let live; —
 
 67 
 
 Callest tliou tliat health — that shop-worn bi-ain, 
 Where, year by year, deception tries 
 
 Her miserable spells, to gain 
 
 The cent per cent of heartless lies?" 
 
 "Then ask thy fortune from the sea, 
 
 Thoiigh strong and passionate, it gives 
 To whom it gives, full bounteously, 
 
 And with its generous plenty heaves." 
 "Nay, tempt I not the dangerous deep. 
 
 Or trust the canvas for an hour; 
 Where wi-eck and death, in seeming sleep, 
 
 Entice their prey, and then devour." 
 
 Then see thy conquest, — yonder flows 
 
 Dark Sacramento through its rocks; 
 But on its marge no herbage gi-ows. 
 
 Its waters slake no milky flocks; — 
 Hard deserts gird it, and the sighs 
 
 Of wretched men, who loathe their gold, 
 Are blent with famine, that denies 
 
 Bread, for those treasuries untold. 
 
 Men, — are they men, that wither there. 
 With scowling brow, and desperate eye, 
 
 Whose hearts no hpme-bred comforts share, 
 But swell with force and enmity?
 
 G8 
 
 No yoke of law, — -no bond of right, 
 Cements the feeble to the strong; 
 
 But towering, overruling might. 
 
 Tramples the weak, and sways by wronj 
 
 Go, dig thy riches, and become 
 
 The oppressor, or the slave oppressed : 
 And learn, in many a comrade's doom, 
 
 That fortime's gifts are seldom blessed ; 
 Save when, by slow laborious flow, 
 
 They swell the breast from year to year, 
 And, ripening with thy age, bestow 
 
 Ease to a useful, good career.
 
 GO 
 
 THE SUMMER SHOWER. 
 
 Let us away this afternoon, 
 Bright with the lusty sun of June ! 
 Let us away from hive and den, 
 And seek the shadow of some glen. 
 And cool with leaves the steamy glow. 
 That breaks as from a furnace now, 
 Draining the blossom of its dew, 
 And toning down the vapory view — 
 The view, that, with expansive arms 
 Stretches o'er parks, and vales, and farms; 
 And, pushing onward, dies away 
 In the milky blue, and shady grey. 
 
 In curving line, the tawny road 
 Traces the upland, and below. 
 Strung on the shimmering river's glow, 
 
 The emerald valley widens broad. 
 With cattle scattered, where a lord 
 Hath reared his mansion, to o'erlook 
 Miles of green vale, and woods of oak ;
 
 70 
 
 And slopes that fade in watery blue, 
 With hamlets glancing dimly through 
 The green enclosure. There the crown 
 Of forest masses, boldly thrown 
 From side to side, dai-kens the space 
 With lines, that blackly interlace 
 The green, the saffron, and the bright. 
 Now gleaming in the passing light. 
 
 But onward yonder cloud hath grown 
 Darker and darker, till its frown 
 Scowls through the openings of the wood, 
 And throws its rainy haze abroad. 
 The pattering shower comes briskly on; 
 With fleeting speed the shining sun 
 Traces the vale; and, one by one, 
 Gathers his beams from wood and field. 
 And village spire; and glances back 
 A moment on the rural track, 
 In cloud and slanting rain, concealed. 
 
 Let us beneath yon blossomed May, 
 And watch the shower whirl away 
 O'er farm and paddock. Hark ! it rings, 
 And the leaf trembles as it flings 
 Its arrows forth; — the blossoms sip 
 Its ovei-flow with greedy lip; 
 And daisies, with their cy clops eye, 
 Stare at the persecuting sky, 
 Yet. shrink not. What a bowl of gold 
 The buttercup has chased, to hold
 
 71 
 
 The sweet tlistilliug, which the bee, 
 
 Nestled in dry retired nook, 
 Under the leeward of the tree, 
 
 Shall gather, and in sweet cells lock, 
 When the returning snn-beams speed 
 Its rnsset wiiig, o'er holm and mead. 
 
 What king, in stately hall, who hears 
 Tlie flattering compliments of peers ; 
 Who sees stiff" ceremony stand 
 In gaudy lace, with office wand ; 
 Who at the banquet dines from gold. 
 
 And drinks what iewelled beakers hold; — 
 
 * ■' 
 
 What king — where'er his beverage grew — 
 
 Ere drank like they who drink the dew, 
 
 Frasrrant with violet or rose, 
 
 Or golden, with the gold that glows 
 
 On the wet petal, trickling now 
 
 With brighter tears, than those that flow 
 
 O'er beauty, when her breast is torn 
 
 With some cold idol's heartless scorn? 
 
 Now hastier on the shower comes, 
 The distance momently assumes 
 A steamier grey; the nearest tree 
 Heaves like a hulk on winter sea; 
 And every bloom, and every spray, 
 Drips the abundant waste away. 
 Yet gives ou.t lustier perfume. 
 And works its never ceasing loom.
 
 72 
 
 With brighter tints of diupery, 
 
 And stores fresh honey for the bee 
 
 In every tiny cell, and strains 
 
 New sap through all its wandering N'eiiis. 
 
 But see, the c-loud hath had its will, 
 And looms, a blot on yonder hill; 
 Its dark robe sweeps the vale; the reek 
 
 Hangs on its skirt, and sweeps away 
 
 In undistingnishable grey. 
 The objects that, in vivid cliaiii 
 Engird the distance, start again 
 Into the beam, that glows more warm, 
 And glitters brighter from the storm — * 
 The hall, that through black foliage heaves ; 
 The hamlet tower; the farm-stacked sheaves; 
 The archway, lifting o'er the mead 
 The iron road; the steamy speed 
 Of panting traffic ; and the trace 
 Left by the plough from ridge to base. 
 
 The lark shoots up again, — remote 
 The wood speaks out the cuckoo's note, 
 The thrush, mid apple blossoms, shakes 
 Its passionate song, and proudly wakes 
 The nightingale, whose exquisite lute 
 
 Makes other sweetness harsh and tame, 
 Changing for ever to such suit, 
 
 As puts the syi'en throat to shame. 
 Let us away! and, in yon grove, 
 List(!ii th(^ir notes of praise ;uid love.
 
 73 
 
 THE EMIGRANT. 
 
 The sea is smooth; the air serene 
 
 Is stained with evening's softest ray;— 
 The ray that mingles blue and green, 
 
 And melts in dewy haze away : 
 Aiid there the headland boldly stands, 
 
 And there the village spire, and there 
 The down in grassy slope expands. 
 
 Spotted with cattle, far and near. 
 
 The night comes creeping duskier on, 
 
 And, with the morrow, all in vain 
 The eye will seek that rural zone 
 
 Of spire, and cliif, and pastured plain. 
 Yet there have grown all life's young joy. 
 
 The love that made them like a heaven. 
 The dreams and passions of the boy, 
 
 Hopes in the world's denials riven.
 
 7-t 
 
 But life grew sadder; — year by year 
 
 The land oppressed, cried — ^wherefore stay, 
 Where rent and tax ; the scant, the dear. 
 
 Make poverty their general prey; 
 There is a land, where yet no plough 
 
 Hath laid its fruitful riches bare; 
 Nor grmding law, with sallow brow, 
 
 Stands counting every ripening ear. 
 
 Go seek it ! — though no village spire 
 
 Rise o'er old oaks, nor wild-flower lane 
 Wind, fragrant with the haw and briar, 
 
 Nor trim field imdulate with grain; 
 Yet thou shalt feel new life inspire 
 
 Thy hand to labour, and shalt know 
 Bold liberty iI^ all the fii'e 
 
 That drives its passions to and fro. 
 
 Thy kine and sheep shall graze the hills, 
 
 And thou shalt, with thy axes, clear 
 Broad corn lands, till thy granary fills, 
 
 And winter glows with England's cheer; 
 And Christmas — not with Europe's blast. 
 
 With heaped up fires and icy sleet, — 
 Shall claim thy sunniest hours, and cast 
 
 Ripe fruit and garlands at thy feet.
 
 75 
 
 Yet England's memory oft shall rise, 
 
 Oft shall hope's young aspiring dreams 
 Remind thee, in thy moistening eyes, 
 
 How life deceives the good it seems; 
 And thou shalt wish some distant hand 
 
 Could gi-asp thy friendly hand again, 
 And thou couldst see thy fatherland 
 
 Stretch o'er the populated plain. 
 
 But be content, — we cannot live 
 
 The enchanted life we wish and ask; 
 But still to struggle and to strive 
 
 Is man's invariable task : 
 No matter what his birth — no weal 
 
 Is everlasting weal below — 
 The greater like the less must feel, 
 
 Mid affluence, his especial woe !
 
 70 
 
 HER NAME. 
 
 Ask not lier name, for wliat to tliee 
 Would that dear word inspLre'? 
 
 Those accents, that are more to me 
 Than to the priests their fire. 
 
 Thou wonldst not feel its whisper low, 
 Like music, through thee start; 
 
 Mantling thy face with happy glow, 
 And kindling in thy heart. 
 
 To thee it would not tell of eyes 
 Soft with indwelling light; 
 
 A heart, without the heart's disguise, 
 And beauty in its might.
 
 77 
 
 Thoii woiildst not feel the flooded tide 
 Of hope, distmction, fame, 
 
 All wildly through the spii'it glide, 
 To decorate her name. 
 
 Then ask me not to breathe the word, 
 
 That in my bosom glows, 
 Like water, which no blast hath stirred, 
 
 Or imsoiled moiuitain snows. 
 
 There will I keep it, like the gold 
 
 The miser counts alone; 
 And shrinks, lest other eyes behold 
 
 The heap he doats iipon. 
 
 Thei-e will I keep it, not beset 
 With pearl or precious stone; 
 
 But trust, that never can forget 
 Its beautiful — its own. 
 
 And, like some sacred })eaceful love 
 
 To holiest vigils given. 
 Her name shall only float above — 
 
 Wafted with prayer to heaven.
 
 78 
 
 THE ITALIAN ORGAN PLAYER. 
 
 Thou art a Roman, and perchance the line, 
 
 Whence thon hast sprung, 
 Hath borne the workl the heroes, now divine 
 
 In Attic song. 
 Maybe the riot of the Marian throng. 
 
 Thy fathers braved. 
 And stemmed the forum, while the rabble tongue. 
 
 With faction raved. 
 
 And here, — where sad with beggar's sorrows, thou 
 
 Even bread dost crave, — 
 Howai'd or Cavendish has led the idough. 
 
 Thy trembling slave ; — 
 And these rich islanders, so proud and strong. 
 
 By thee o'erborne. 
 Filled up thy triumph, bound with chain and thong. 
 
 Thy l>itter scorn.
 
 79 
 
 But fortune, the reverser, liatli displaced 
 
 Her lord and slave, 
 And from thy loaded scutcheon, hath erased 
 
 All that she gave; — 
 The serf hath reached the crown, and sitteth ikjw 
 
 In curule chair, 
 While vagi'ant, the poor Consul wanders through 
 
 Suburb and fair. 
 
 Yes, the great conqueror, through alley, street, 
 
 Leads, in a chain, 
 The tawdiy monkey, dancing at his feet. 
 
 To tambourine: 
 A stinted crust, and miserable straw. 
 
 Are all that fate 
 Hath left to him who gave the world its law. 
 
 And its debate. 
 
 "Give me a coin for thy posterity!" 
 
 He Seems to say, 
 "For the insulting future shall from thee 
 
 Wrest all away; 
 High name, rich revenue, the pride of pride, 
 
 And entailed lands 
 Shall moulder from their parchments, and shall glide 
 
 To vassal hands.
 
 80 
 
 "Begging in some far future, tliy poor son 
 
 Shall know thee not ; 
 But draw his scanty substance from the tone 
 
 Of harp or lute; 
 And, clothed in rags, thrust rudely from the spot, — 
 
 Thy heritage now, — 
 His heart shall ache with poverty's hard lot 
 
 Till he lie low."
 
 THE YOUNG RADICAL. 
 
 There is no greater truth than this, — 
 
 That man is born with equal right, 
 God never farmed his happiness, 
 
 Nor made mankind for wrong and spite; 
 Yet look abroad : there is no place 
 
 That some great tyrant does not sway; 
 And lock it up with law, and chase, 
 
 With iron scowl, the poor away. 
 
 Look at yon oaks : they were a shade 
 
 Ere Hotspur hunted Douglas down ; 
 Aiid Robin Hood may there have swayed. 
 
 When waste was oft the poor man's own. 
 They gird a thousand acres now. 
 
 Where landscape changes every rood. 
 And slope and water break anew 
 
 Through boundaries of copse and wood.
 
 82 
 
 O'er tlieir grey heads a castle rears 
 
 Its battlements; and proudly still, 
 Out of its feudal dungeons, glares 
 
 A lord on serfs without a will. 
 There shields, and quarterings, and ci-est 
 
 Are carved, to set their despot forth. 
 And to unscutcheoned toil suggest 
 
 Ideas of overflowing worth. 
 
 And he who calls this entail his. 
 
 Is some poor weakling, racked and worn- 
 The sofa's victim, — whose distress 
 
 Might move a lusty peasant's scorn. 
 "Yet I am better, knaves, than ye; — 
 
 One ancestor at Flodden bled. 
 Another held the cruel key, 
 
 When Mary to the block was led..'' 
 
 These are his boast; — for these he craves 
 
 A county for himself; — for these 
 He is a peer, and we are knaves. 
 
 That labour for his charities. 
 His cari'iage si)laslies grandly by; 
 
 His rank on groom and horse is thrust; 
 His children a])e his vanity, 
 
 And look on t'listian with disgust.
 
 83 
 
 T say the law is all unjust, 
 
 That throws such bounties doAvii to one; 
 And gives the craftsman scarce a crust, 
 
 Whose toil goes on from sun to sun. 
 How am I less than those who rule? 
 
 My blood is red with life and health. 
 And, in the end, the forming tool 
 * Is the great sii'e of power and wealth ! 
 
 Nay, we, the workers, are the blood 
 
 And sinews of a prosperous State; 
 'Tis we that make it strong and proud, 
 
 Although it gives us want and hatQ. 
 Wreck us on some unpeopled strand, 
 
 With some disdainer of our sense; 
 Wliich would be Crusoe of the land. 
 
 And turn event to opulence? 
 
 Why work for idlers, who repay 
 
 Our sweat with their contempt and guile? 
 The bees their wiser law display. 
 
 When they confine the hive to toil. 
 Or, if we still consent to bear 
 
 The burden of their sumptuous pride. 
 Let them not every function share. 
 
 That gives the State its rule and guide.
 
 84 
 
 Tiie hand that works the ardent steel, 
 
 And gives the wheel its plastic ai-t, 
 Is subjected by minds that feel 
 
 Their high and honoui-able part. 
 They are not weaklings, nursed to keep 
 
 Some imjust privilege secure, 
 But men, that through invention reap 
 
 The harvest never reaped before. 
 
 Who struck oiit power, that made the land 
 
 A mine of wealth, a school of skill ; 
 And brought the keels of every strand, 
 
 Till ports and marts with buyers fill? 
 Was it her schoolmen, or her peers; — 
 
 Did Oxford's logic trace its cause; — 
 Or "was it whispered in the ears 
 
 Of Pitts, and Peels, and Chancellors] 
 
 No; Arkwright, Watt, and Stephenson 
 
 Did more than ever learning bred ; 
 Whate'er they won, they boldly won 
 
 By what they thought, not what they read. 
 Their lusty minds sought not a rule 
 
 From Bacon ; — in their imtaught zeal 
 They looked at need; and, in that school, 
 
 Invention bore down obstacle.
 
 85 
 
 Then let the worker have his rio-ht- — 
 
 Let him be free as priest or peer; 
 The steel will strike with bolder light 
 
 Than gold, and all vain jewel gear. 
 And hands that work the steel, are those 
 
 That know the value of the hand ; 
 'Tis they that strike the bravest blows 
 
 To guard, or to enrich their land.
 
 86 
 
 THE GEAYE OF THE MISSIONARY. 
 
 He rests not where the solemn yew 
 Bends o'er the marble tomb, 
 
 And death seems deadlier in the hue 
 Of still and sacred gloom. 
 
 He sleeiis not where his fathers sleep, 
 
 Amid the hamlet's graves; 
 Where, over every swelling heap, 
 
 The pvii^le heather waves. 
 
 But, where the sparkling southern isles 
 
 Mid pearl and coi'al lie, 
 He bore the earth's most earthless toils, 
 
 And laid him down to die. 
 
 Tlie tropic airs fan balmy ro\uid 
 The palm that shades his rest; 
 
 And richest verdure hues the ground 
 Tiiat presses on his bi^^ast.
 
 87 
 
 And there the sun, through scented glooms, 
 
 Slants his departing beams, 
 And herons lave their azure plumes 
 
 In cool adjacent streams. 
 
 No dirge was breathed along the vale, 
 As passed his death-mat on ; 
 
 No funeral fiowei'S perfumed the gale. 
 No wailing dashed its tone. 
 
 But conchs, and frantic howls, and yells 
 Rang through the twilight air; 
 
 And robes were rent, and dazzling shells 
 Were cast vipon his bier. 
 
 Far had he come; — another sky 
 
 His fatherland o'erhung, 
 Where, to the last, each tender tie 
 
 With yearning fondness clung. 
 
 And yet he loved his southern home. 
 
 He loved its miisky breeze. 
 And mist-pale hills of feathery bloom, 
 
 Shaded with forest trees. 
 
 He loved the fierce and swarthy men, 
 Though oft their flashing eyes 
 
 Glared in the solitary glen 
 At heatlien revelries.
 
 88 
 
 Stern were those warriors — stern and proud,- 
 
 But pride relaxed to hear 
 The truths, that from his warm heart glowed,- 
 
 Fervent, but unsevere. 
 
 At length — one melancholy eve, 
 In the glittering moon of flowers — 
 
 His spirit peacefully took leave 
 Of life's long-suffering hours. 
 
 Yet, through those hours, which stole away 
 . In acts of love and care, 
 Dark passion turned from guilty prey, 
 And hatred learned to bear.
 
 89 
 
 A DAY ON THE RHINE. 
 
 TO R. J. 
 
 Oil ! canst tlioii forget it, that beautiful day, 
 
 When togethex^ we took hy the blue Rhine our way; 
 
 When its mightiest scenes, — the wild mountain that stood 
 
 Ribbed with forest and rock, on the brink of the flood ; 
 
 The castle in ruins, the grape-clustered vine, 
 
 All stretched towards heaven, like gifts on a shrine ? 
 
 Oh ! canst thou forget the young peasants that wrung 
 
 Even pleasure from toil in the legends they sung ; 
 
 And the fair, blushing girls, whom, on every height, 
 
 We met with their lovers, in whispering delight; 
 
 Or passed with clasped hands at some rude way-side shrine, 
 
 So devoted, I wished their religion were mine?
 
 90 
 
 Oil ! canst thou forget it, the toil we confessed, 
 
 As through forests we climbed to the Drachenfel's crest. 
 
 Leaving villages, ravines, and vineyards beneath. 
 
 While o'er flood-ways and rocks we pressed, panting for breath; 
 
 Till we gained the bold point, where one glance had command 
 
 O'er the glory and breadth of that beautiful land 1 
 
 Oh ! canst thou forget, too, as evening came on. 
 And the mountains burned red in the low blazing sun; 
 How we looked, from poor Roland's old wall-fallen tower, 
 On her convent, for whom he had won fame and power; 
 Where daily he watched for a glance of his bride, • 
 And, at sight of her bier, wildly — heartbroken — died?
 
 91 
 
 CONTENT. 
 
 Content i.s empire; and a wisli resti-ained, 
 
 A passion held in slavery, is a mine, 
 More than Australian gold, in mountains gained,- 
 More than a thousand serfs to acres chained, 
 Or wooded lands, where whisper oak and pine. 
 
 "Tis not enough!" the miser cries, and grieves, 
 
 And prays reluctant fortune for her aid ; 
 Yet sees his paddock piled ^vith gi'ainy sheaves, 
 And hears the lowing of a thousand beeves. 
 And cannot mete his woods' extended shade. 
 
 "Yet it is small!" he cities, "yon heir has more, 
 
 And stalks o'er broader limits with his hound; 
 And counts, with glittering eye, green meadows o'er, 
 While I, with sickening heart, range moss and moor, 
 Aiid trace denial to her utmost bound."
 
 92 
 
 "All!" sighs the merchant, as ab3orbe;l he reads — 
 
 Where venture chronicles her loss and gain — 
 "Ten Indian freights are mine; and wools, and seeds 
 Stored in vast granaries; and mortgage-deeds. 
 And barks that strive with the barbarian main. 
 
 "Yet it is nothing — months are counted o'er 
 
 Ere the poor cargoes reach the welcome strand; 
 And oft the vessel nears the long-sought shore, 
 While its crew send their death-shriek through the roar 
 Of billows, cresting the insidious sand. 
 
 "The ungorged flame devour.s what water spares; 
 
 What flames and waters leave, the robber spoils; 
 The men whom most we trust may be our snares, 
 Whom ruin winds about us unawares. 
 
 Leading catastrophe with nods and smiles." 
 
 "True!" says the statesman, "it may seem the end 
 
 When enemies are silent, and the cr(jwd 
 Hail me with benedictions, as the friend 
 Whom bril)e nor party prejudice could bend, 
 And never at the feet of interest bowed. 
 
 "Yet in a day, an hour, the wind may veer, 
 
 And some new fashion claim the people's lust; 
 Or some bland demagogue may fill their chair, 
 And rouse their false applauses, till the air 
 Rings curses, where they swore eternal trust."
 
 'J 3 
 
 " Why call me happy f says the lovely maid, 
 Burning with youthful excellence and gi-ace, 
 
 And scattering, Avhere'er she treads, a shade 
 
 On other beauty, till the heart is swayed 
 To all the tones of her harmonious face. 
 
 Some wilful youth, whose disenchanted eye 
 Wanders unfettered by her winsome art, 
 Drugs all her heart with venom, and her sigh 
 Has love's sharp hate; and hot, dry misery 
 
 Bui-ns, when the glances from her black eyes start. 
 
 "This grace," she cries, "is leased by envious hours, 
 
 Who lend their gifts as misers lend theii' gold. 
 Imparting only what their lust devoui's. 
 Drinking our tears as wine, and scattering flowers 
 Only on graves, whose tenants they have sold." 
 
 Thus hopeless, whatsoe'er the bounty be — ■ 
 Wealth, beauty, power — all alike unblest, 
 
 Groan with desire, and spurn reality, 
 
 To ask the impossible, and disagree 
 
 With all that life bestows for love or rest. 
 
 Mean labour, driving the dividing plough, 
 
 Whose wealth would scarce suffice two days for breatl, 
 Bares to the future his intrepid brow, 
 And sees his ruddy prattlers round him grow, 
 
 With neither miser's greed, nor merchant's dread.
 
 Here, where the least is given, complaint is least; 
 
 The bosom, uninstructed in desire, 
 Looks to necessity for all its feast. 
 Covets the health alone that makes it blest, 
 
 And, born to humble fortune, aims no higher.
 
 95 
 
 THE STREET GIRL. 
 
 Sad world of melancholy grief, 
 
 I ask not what thou art; 
 Nor why, with scarce a day's relief, 
 
 I bear thy bitter' part. 
 
 Gay homes aronnd me warmly crowd. 
 Their hearths are glowing bright, 
 
 Whence laughter, often ringing loud, 
 Cuts me with its delight. 
 
 For not a gay or easy thought 
 
 Lights my distracted brain; 
 But sorrow into sorrow wi-ought 
 
 Just varies pain with pain. 
 
 These tattered clothes, these naked feet, 
 These scars of wasting care. 
 
 This sense of all that's good and great 
 Weighed down into desijuir,
 
 DC. 
 
 Tell me the worthless weed I am, 
 Where flaunting flowers abide; 
 
 A bane, the idle rich condemn, 
 And push, with hate, aside; — 
 
 A wretch, whom all regard with scorn, 
 
 And spurn with bitter slight; 
 Who hath no bread for morrow's morn, 
 
 No pallet for to-night. 
 
 And yet the world, provided well 
 
 With wastefulness, runs o'er; 
 And shakes from husk, and ear, and shell, 
 
 A never garnered store. 
 
 And it hath down, and silk, and flax, 
 
 Thrown carelessly away; 
 A nd honey, in its cell of wax, 
 
 The wild bLrds' easy prey. 
 
 And these ai'e sought, and reared to waste. 
 
 In heaps, before the eye ; 
 And, though I starve, I may not taste 
 
 Their savage luxuiy. 
 
 Oil! ye that grace tlie arras room, 
 
 And, mid your selflsh ease, 
 Ask for new pleasures, taking gloom 
 
 Even from your luxuries: —
 
 97 
 
 Strip lace away, let not defence 
 Wrap warm your perfumed skin, 
 
 Eat beggars' meat, and touch the pence 
 That weary fingers win ! 
 
 Then wouldst thou live that life above 
 For which you sometimes pray ; 
 
 And chase, with easy, natural love. 
 Thy cold hard thoughts away. 
 
 Then wouldst thou know how hard the art 
 
 To live, where every day 
 Hath some concealed and bitter smart 
 
 To drive repose away 3 
 
 Then woiddst thou know how cold and hard, 
 
 Mi3. the gay city's strife. 
 To be prevented and debarred 
 
 From every thing, but life : 
 
 Life that survives on scraps and doles, 
 That fall from rich men's feasts. 
 
 The drain of overrunning bowls, 
 The bread their table wastes : 
 
 Then wouldst thou know how oft a glance, 
 
 That pity casts, may soothe 
 Long hours of want and vigilance. 
 
 And melancholy ruth. 
 G
 
 98 
 
 But 'tis in vain to think, when thought 
 
 Eats its own peace away 
 When love is gone, and hope hath nought 
 
 To sweeten life's decay. 
 
 I call on death, — and yet I shrink 
 
 Before his hollow eyes, 
 And, just on the releasing briak. 
 
 Turn back to miseries. 
 
 And then I pray that all unseen 
 The undreaded blow may come, 
 
 And the dark veil, of what hath been. 
 Rise on a kinder home.
 
 SONNETS.
 
 101 
 
 MYSTERY OF THE MIND. 
 
 What art thou, spirit, that, from our own will, 
 
 Forgest the weapons of our chief distress ; 
 Turning our thoughts to scourge, and making still 
 
 Our' own desires and eagerness oppress? 
 Oar wishes are thy arms, and thou dost lay 
 
 Siege to our peace, with engines framed and bent 
 Out of our inclination ; and we play, 
 
 As with a toy, with terrible event : 
 The voice, that in the ear is harmony, 
 
 Jars on reality's discordant strings j 
 And the fair dancers, that go laughing by, 
 
 Are hags, that ride the night with leathern wings. 
 The good, the pure, the holy stand apart, 
 Grieving to see the havoc of the heart.
 
 102 
 
 'OUR IGNORANCE. 
 
 We straight erect us sctools, and one stands forth 
 
 Doling grave consequences, rule by rule ; 
 And yet the circuit of this rounded earth 
 
 Is all one vast and venerable school ; 
 The wisest knows but little,[and is still 
 
 A stripling, blundering on the lowest form. 
 What are his proud degrees, and self-proud skill, 
 
 But the inflation of a creeping worm ? 
 He cannot breathe the air, or scent the rose. 
 
 Or cast his eye upon an earthly mound, 
 Or shudder in the ice- wind as it blows, 
 
 Or list a tiny river's silvery sound. 
 But something checks his vanity, and shows 
 How little of each little thing he knows !
 
 103 
 
 PRESUMPTION. 
 
 When I compare this little base, where high 
 We raise our structures, and so arrogate 
 One o'er the other, till our hearts ooze hate, 
 
 As from a fountain, that is never dry : 
 When I compare this little rolling sphere 
 
 With the vast firmament that girds it round ; 
 And look upon the minnikins, that here 
 
 Quarrel, and live to be each other's wound ; 
 I shrink astonished at the little art. 
 
 That high philosophy, or learned pride. 
 Hath given man to qualify his heart, 
 
 An d his adjusted reason wisely guide ; 
 Who, overacting every little trust. 
 Crumbles, in bold presumption, back to dust.
 
 104 
 
 AGE. 
 
 Back, back ! thou palsied and destroying power 
 
 That creep'st insidious on us, day by day ; 
 And. even in our most abandoned hour, 
 
 Makest our laughter and delights thy prey. 
 Oh ! miserable phantom, lame and grey. 
 
 And mumbling words like infancy, without 
 Its plump young smiles, and warm affectionate play ; 
 
 Ever believing where thou art in doubt. 
 And must we yield to thee? — must these gay arts, 
 
 Rapid and blithe, with neither grief nor groan, 
 Grow stale and lifeless in our cooling hearts. 
 
 And make no way where they so well begun < 
 Is all life's promise but the clown's dull guile, 
 Cheating the senses for a little while ?
 
 105 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 'Tis strange to live, and yet 'tis strange to die ; 
 To be, yet not to be : — to know that mould 
 Shall batten on these membranes, which infold, 
 
 With tenderest care, the miad's divinity, 
 
 To live, all spiritual, in decay ; 
 
 To range beyond the stars, though crippled here 
 To the few acres, out of which we rear 
 
 The pittance of existence, day by day ; 
 
 To look upon the past, which lived while we 
 
 Were but the mould on which its strife was wrought, 
 The dull, unconscious matter of its thought, 
 
 Now graven in the brass of memory : 
 
 We feel we are eternal, yet we droop, 
 
 And while we hope, we tremble at our hope.
 
 106 
 
 LOVE OF LIFE. 
 
 Tis strange that life ; — a meal time, and a sleep, 
 
 The agitation of disputed claims, 
 The troubles, over which we groan and weep, 
 
 The disappointments of confuted aims, — 
 Should stUl retain the fascinating charm 
 
 It bore, when all was youth and ideal bliss, 
 When the sane body asked no healing balm. 
 
 And playthings were enough for happiness. 
 Still racked with pain, with dim and groping eye, 
 
 "With penury, and lameness, and decay 
 
 Of all the appetites, that gave the ray 
 Of youth its splendor and variety ; — 
 With loss of all — we still incessant cry 
 For life ; and, grasping at its sorrows, die.
 
 107 
 
 MYSTERY OF LIFE. 
 
 When first the eye looks up and sees the sun ; 
 
 When first the ear takes in the gathering sound 
 Of life's incessant wheel, and hears the tone 
 
 Of nature in the living au's around ; — 
 We gaze, and list astonished, and ,we ask 
 
 Whence we have come, and why we have not been 
 When we were not, and set us to the task 
 
 Of tracing out this grand mysterious scene. 
 Yet vain and vague ; we make what we believe, 
 
 And trust the little light that gleams around. 
 As if its paltry glimmer could relieve 
 
 The dungeon, where we grope in mist profound. 
 We see a few wild movements, and then night 
 Shuts all the panorama from our sight.
 
 108 
 
 THE SOUL. 
 
 What art thou, spirit, that pervades my frame ; 
 
 Now glowing bright with pleasure, now depressed 
 Brimming my sense with hope, or pouring blame, 
 
 As from a fountain, in my trembling breast ? 
 
 Most beautiful, m^st variable guest ! 
 Canst thou not smUe for ever, and prolong. 
 Through every season, thy enchanting song. 
 
 And make me ever happy, ever blest ? 
 Or hast thou thy command to agitate 
 
 The obedient mind, as well as to enchant, 
 And wring our moments with the wounds of fate. 
 
 And turn to pain the ecstacies you grant. 
 Mysterious spirit ! that, still part of me, 
 Seems something bolder, greater, and more free.
 
 t
 
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