5^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SONNETS. H^^ SONNETS. BY SIR AUBREY DE VERB Bart. A NEW EDITION LONDON BASIL MONTAGU PICKERING 196 PICCADILLY. 1875 ADVERTISEMENT. ^ I "'HE following Sonnets were included in a -*- volume published by my father in 1842, and entitled, " A Song of Faith, Devout Exer- cises, and other Poems."* To them is prefixed the Memoir which precedes " Mary Tudor," as recently re-published. Aubrey de Verb. Oct. 6, 1875. * William Pickering. 8075C7 CONTENTS. M EMOIR of Sir Aubeiy de Vere Chiabrera 1817 SONNETS. I. On Character and Events. I. Death of the Princess Charlotte II. The Perversion of Letters III. Waterloo IV. The Italian People. (From V. The Fate of Norway VI. South American Liberty VII. Glory. (From Giulio Bussi) VIII. Liberty of the Press IX. To Liberty. 1817 X. The True Basis of Power XI. Despondency in Bad Times, XII. Columbus. 1. XIII. Columbus. 2. XIV. Columbus. 3. XV. The Tomb of Charlemagne XVI. Dioclesian at Salona. . XVII. The Old Literature of England XVIII. " In them the spirit of reason was not mute, XIX. The Soldiers ot the Cross XX. The Cradles of Empire II. Descriptive. I. Castleconnel II. Kilmallock . III. The Rock of Cashel IV, The Shannon V. The Sea-clifts of Kilkee VI. The Hill of Saint Patrick Atlantic Coast Scenery. The Cliffs. 1. Coast Scenery. The Cliffs. 2. IX. Coast Scenery. The Ilag's-head Cape VII. VIII. Page 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 CONTENTS. X. Coast Scenen-. Snanish Point . XI. Coast Scenery. IVliilt»;i_v Sands . XII. Coast SctMierv. Tlic Solitudes of Malbay xui. Hydal with V\ ordswortli XIV. i^i^htfiiU ...... XV. Goug;aun Barra ..... XVI. Lismore ...... XVII. Castlf Martyr ..... xvui. Gleiit;arrit}'. 1. . XIX. Gleugarrifl". 2 III. Pehsonal. Miscellaneous. I. Tlie Family Picture II. Solitudi' and ."Society . III. To Other limes .... IV. The Portrait. T. S. R. V. The Statue of Moses. (FromZappi) VI. The I^mlrail .... VI!. Tlie Cross of the South viii. From Petrarch .... IX. From Petrarch .... X. On the Funeral of a Lady and her Son XI. " Aainlv thou bidst me woo the lofty muse, XII. To the Nii:htint;;ale. (From Peti-arch) XUI. From Petrarch ..... 3. TheCouncil of Clermont 4. TheTemjdars ."). The Childrei. Hand 6. Jerusalem Didivered 7, Philosophic Deprecia IV. Historical. I. The Crusaders. 1 II. The Crusaders. 2 III. The Crusaders. IV. The Crufvaders. V. The Crusaders. VI. The Crusaders. VII. The Crusaders. tion . VIII. Tlie Cnisaders. 8. Christian Argument IX. Tlie Plaiita^'cnets X. The Barons at Hunnimede XI. The House of Tu 1 MEMOIR. SIR AUBREY DE VERE was born at Curragh Chase, in the county of Limerick, on the 28th of August, 1788. He received his school education at Harrow, where he was the contemporarj of Lord Byron, and of Sir Robert Peel, the latter of whom once wrote, to save his friend trouble, a copy of Latin verses so good that the " fine Roman hand " was well-nigh detected, and the two boys with difficulty escaped punishment. He went to no University. He was little more than eighteen when, on the 12th of May, 1807, he married Mary, eldest daughter of Stephen Edward Rice, Esq., and sister of the late Lord Mont- eagle. His affection for the latter exceeded that which commonly unites brothers, and constituted the chief friendship of his life. In his earlier boyhood he had been placed at Ambleside, under the care of a private tutor, the Rev. John Dawes ; and the beautiful scenery of the lake country, two visits to which were among the happiest incidents of his maturer years, early taught him that ap- preciation of Nature which marked his poetry xu MEMOIR, at a time when the power of describing rural beauty with truth and vividness was less valued than in later days. "Walking, after the lapse of forty-five years, beside the Jtotha, one of the clear streams of that country, he recog- nized and pointed out with delight the rock from which he had first cast his line into the water, at the age of twelve. A scene once beheld, indeed, he never forgot : and, as was remarked by a painter, it might have been de- lineated from his description. The character- istic features were those which impressed him, not the oly'ects most striking when taken by themselves. His first poetry was prompted by his love of Nature ; but he produced compara- tively little till he was past thirty, and then it was the drama which attracted him. "Julian the Apostate" was published in 1822, and dedi- cated to the Earl of Limerick, brother of his mother, who had resided with him during the years of her widowhood. In 1823 his second drama, " The Duke of ^Icrcia," appeared, and was dedicated to his father-in-law. The sonnet was with him to the last a favourite form of composition. This taste was fostered by the magnificent sonnets of Words- worth, whose genius he had early hailed, and whose friendship he regarded as one of the chief honours of his later life. For his earlier son- nets he had found a model chiefiy in the Italian poets, especially Petrarch and Filicaja. Like MEMOIR. Xlii Filicaja also, who so well deserved the inscrip- tion graven on his tomb, " qui gloriam literarum honestavit," he valued the sonnet the more be- cause its austere brevity, its severity, and its majestic completeness fit it especially for the loftier themes of song. We have heard of the "smooth sonneteer" with his "graceful amorous effusions," while, on the other hand, an eminent writer has sneered at the Sonnet as a penfold for luckless stray thoughts. As well might we go to some work of Pye for our type of the Epic. A true sonnet is charac- terized by greatness, not prettiness ; and, if complex in structure, it is in substance solidly simple. Its oneness is its essence. It is not a combination of many thoughts, but the deve- lopment of a single thought so large and fruitful as to be, latently, a poem. It is in poetry what a Collect is iu devotion. Within, its narrow compass there is room at once for meditation and for observation, for the imagi- native and the impassioned : and these four blended elements, far from impairing, intensify its unity. Its philosophy is that of Intuitive Reason, and in the drily didactic it has no part. Its difficulty stimulates power where real power exists ; and the spontaneity of poetic genius accepts the bracing discipline, and survives within it. In its solemn mood the sonnet seems as if it should be graven on marble : yet it can be buoyant as a flower, and bright as a XiV MEMOIR. dewdrop. "WTaile enriched by rhymes, it also demands, like the Miltonic blank verse, a nobler music varying from the amplest to the subtlest cadences of metrical harmony. It requires a diction strong, pure, felicitous, and lucid. It should end with an increased ascent and ele- vation, or else vrith a graduated dying away.* The great modern master of the sonnet, Wordsworth, pronounced those of Sir Aubrey de Yere to be among the most perfect of our age. Whether they illustrated Nature, em- bodied thought, or expressed imaginative emo- tion, his severe judgment noted in them the artist's hand faithful to the best ancient mo- dels, and the truthful soul of a poet. That form of composition suited the author's genius, which was serious. His poetry not only did not seek some allurements which have graced, or disgraced, much verse of a later date, but it dispensed also with many attractions which are irreproachable. It was as an utterance of man's spiritual being, and also of his aflections, not of our lower passions, fancies, or dialectic crochets, that he chiefly valued poetry ; and, in each case, the sonnet, if an arduous, was also a truthful form for such expression. The sincerity of his poetic imagination is marked especially in those sonnets which refer, with a manly pathos, to a few linked to him by domes- • " Kisinj^ loudly Up to its climax, and then dying proudly." KeJlTS. MEMOIR. XV tic bonds, or by old association — some early removed, and one his survivor for nearly ten years — and not less in those which make con- fession of a religions faith that deepened in bim with advancing years, but ever retained its childlike simplicity. His political sonnets were in part inspired by a deeply rooted chivalrous sentiment, by his devotion to monarchical and ecclesiastical in- stitutions, and by his reverence for the past ; but they illustrate not less forcibly the com- patibility of the most zealous loyalty with a genuine love of liberty, and breathe the spirit of an age when no one supposed the regal and the popular principles to be at variance, and when nobility stood remote from exclusiveness. This will be seen at once by one who compares his sonnets on Charles I. and James II. with those entitled the "Liberty of the Press," and "The True Basis of Power." Like Burke, if he hated Jacobinism, he hated despotism and oppression no less. Some would have called bim a " moderate Tory," but he found no party with which he was in general sympathy. He was too much of the old Cavalier to be a "Xo Popery" and Protectionist Tory; and as little did he admire such spurious Liberal- ism as "plunders churches to endow a school," and places its faith in a ballot " tempered " by secular education. By education he under- stood that which, by whatever means, developes the humanities without needlessly stimulating xviil MEMOIR. probably owed his minute geographical know- ledge, and a singular power of realizing, as a tactician might, the relative position of remote places. Probably not more than two years of his life, scattered over its various portions, were spent in the composition of his larger works ; but when he wrote, it was with rapidity, though with the conscientious ciu'efulness of an in- tellect instinctively scholarly. He did not need solitude in order to concentrate his attention; and much of his poetry was written AATth child- ren playing in the room. His most consider- able work, '• ^Mary Tudor," an expression of his sympathy with great qualities obscured by great errors and great calamities, was com- posed under more serious diflSculties, in inter- vals of severe illness, during his last year, and was published after his death. lie died on the •28th of July, 1846, in the 58th year of his age, in the home of his infancy, and surrounded by his family. There exists unfortunately no portrait which does justice to my father. In stature he was tall. He was remarkable for the music of his voice, especially when reading poetry; for the power of an eye, the clear grey of which brightened in gladness and changed to a darker tint if he heard of aught that was unworthy; and for the rare but not effeminate beauty of his hands. It is not for me to write of his character ; but some readers whose insight de- MEMOIR. XIX lights to trace a poet's moral lineaments in his verse have seen, or thought they saw, in his, a nature more common in past time than in these critical, self-conscious, and self-asserting days — a character obedient to high laws, and a dis- position affluent in affections ; an intellect large, proportioned, and judicious ; a soaring spirit, and a temper ardent, but also magnanimous and urbane : and I remember that one who bent above him after his death, said, " In that brow I see three things — Imagination, Reverence, and Honour." Among the fragments left behind him were the lines, intended, no doubt, to illustrate the poet's office, and written shortly before his death, which are prefixed to this volume as a motto. A. DE V. SONNETS. TO WILLIAM WOEDSWORTH, ESQ. etc. etc. etc. My dear Sir, TO know that you liave perused many of the following Poems with pleasure, and did not hesitate to reward them with your praise, has been to me a cause of unmingled happiness. In accepting the Dedication of those Poems, you permit me to link my name — which I have hitherto done so little to illustrate — with yours, the noblest of modern literature. I may at least hope to be named hereafter as one among the friends of Wordsworth. As such, I trust that you will ever regard your faithful Aubrey de Verb, CuTTah Chase, May 20, 1842. I. ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. I. DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE. LOST Princess ! to whose beauty as a star Amid tlie stormy rack of a dark sky, Dwelling in deep retired serenity, The eyes of men looked wistfully from far : Thou who wert blest, as Princes seldom are. With household virtues, felt revivingly Like morning freshness to a world-sick eye, And love, which Death from heaven may not debar : For Thee, and thy fair babe, hopeless we grieve ; That tender pledge, which, dying at the birth, The dear maternal spirit would not leave : — All that is best of grandeur, all on earth That virtue can make holy, beauty's pride, The purity of love, in thee have died ! SONNETS. THE PERVERSION OF LETTERS. TIME was when books, sent forth without pretence, Elaborately wrought with studious zeal, Were true exponents of the heart. To feel Strongly came first ; then speech, pure from offence, Yet vigilantly fearless. Handmaid to Sense, Wit wrought for Reason ; Satire probed to heal ; And Raillery, chafed spirits to anneal : Thus, genuine instincts tu fulfil, and thence Good ends secure, the purpose was of all. Men fight for triumph now ; transforming words To stings ; and poisoning Wisdom's fount with gall. Books have cloaked meanings : a light tale affords A mask for sour Polemicks ; and the curse Of Passion desecrates immortal verse ! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 7 III. WATERLOO. WHY have the Mighty lived — why have they died ? Is it ever, thus, with idle wreck to strew Fields such as thine, remorseless Waterloo ? Hopeless the lesson ! Vainly hath ever cried Stern Fate to man — " So perish human pride ! " Still must the Many combat for the Few : Still must the noblest blood fair earth bedew : Tyrants, slaves, freemen, mouldering side by side ! On such a day the World was lost, and won, By Pompey at Pharsalia : such a day Saw glorious Hannibal a fugitive : So faded 'neath the Macedonian Sun Persia's pale star : so empire passed away From Harold's brow, — but He disdained to live ! 8 SONNETS. IV. THE ITALIAN PEOPLE. FROM CHIABEERA. WHEN Italy's proud heart imposed the yoke On the barbaric crew, and in the throng Of her pale slaves led captive kings along, Triumphantly, to the old Tarpcian rock ; Not then her warriors girt them for the shock Of arms to cadence of Idalian song ; But mth a martial zeal ; while deep and strong O'er their fierce souls the tide of vengeance broke. Lo ! through the whirlwind, 'iieath the light- ning's glance, Their thirsty spears, their iron limbs advance. Making earth terrible ! We, day by day, To dalliance, and sweet sound, and idle dance, Contented give our dastard souls away ; Prize of triumphant Force, each robber-despot's prey! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. THE FATE OF NORWAY. WHERE was the mountain spirit that of old Trod the steep paths of liberty with Tell ? The mighty Genius of that sacred mould By song and freedom hallowed, round the well Of Castaly, and famous Tempe's dell ? Where was the Latian soul, that downward rolled Thrones in the dust ? O where, when Norway fell. Spurned by the Free, by Despots bought and sold? ! Nations are the merchandise in which Kings love to traffic, and then- slaves grow rich; And human blood, and earthly happiness. The awful price. In vain doth Wisdom preach ! Men see these things, and feel them : yet not less Like dogs, their chains, the more they gall, caress. 10 SONNETS. VI. SOUTH AMERICAN LIBERTY. SURELY thy heart hath British blood— and gi-aced Are thy freed limbs with grandeur of that mould ; Thy lion port as proud ; thy voice as bold In generous defiance ! Novs^, at last, Thy wrongs are numbered, and the die is cast For death — for death — or victory ! Thou dost hold Communion with the undying Great of old, Tyrannicides Earth- worshipped as they passed. But hark — the strife augments ! O Liberty ! We hear thy groans, we feel the earthquake shocks Of thy great agony ! all Nature rocks ! Thou droop'st — thy glorious front grows pale — while we — Cursed be the slavish hand, the traitorous frown, That chills, and would for ever chain you down ! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 11 VII. GLORY. FROM GIULIO BUSSI. /"~^ LORY, what art thou ? Thee, despite of ^^ pain, And want, and toil, the brave heart cherisheth : Thee the pale student courts, wasting, in vain, His primal youth, thy worshipper in death. Glory, what art thou ? Thine impartial breath Speaks woe to all : with pangs do men obtain An empty boon that duly perisheth. Whose very fear of loss outweighs the gain. Glory, what art thou then ? A fond deceit. Child of long suffering, empty air, a sweet Prize that is sought with toil, but never found : In life, by every envious lip denied ; In death, to ears that hear not a sweet sound : Glory — thou fatal scourge of human pride ! 12 SONNETS. VIII. LIBERTY OF THE PRESS. SO^IE laws there are too sacred for the hand Of man to approach ; recorded in the blood Of patriots ; before which, as the Rood Of Faith, devotional we take our stand : Time-hallowed laws ! magnificently planned When Freedom was the nurse of public good. And Power paternal : laws that have with- stood All storms — unshaken bulwarks of the land ! Free will, frank speech, an undissembling mind. Without which Freedom dies and laws are vain, On such we found our rights, to such we cling : In these shall Power his surest safeguard find. Tread them not down in passion, or disdain : Make Man a reptile, he will turn and sting. ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 13 IX. TO LIBERTY. 1817. SPIRIT, or Shadow ! Wheresoe'er thou art — Whose pitying oounteuance has watched for ages, With most indulgent tenderness of heart, Our growing foibles, through their thousand stages ; Now, when wild Want assails, and Faction rages. And the unbridled Vices round us start. When Power with Right a social conflict wages. And the worn patriot half resigns his part : O ! in this agony of life and fame, Turn not aside ; veil not thy glorious face ; Slight not our weakness now, O Liberty ! But, terrible in action as in name, Bend on thy foes that brow of awful grace : Look, and they wither ; speak, and they shall die ! 14 SONNETS. THE TRUE BASIS OF POWER. POWER'S footstool is Opinion, and his throne The Human Heart : thus only Kings maintain Prerogatives God-sanctioned. The coarse chain Tyrants would bind around us may be blown Aside, like foam, that with a breath is gone : For there's a tide within the popular vein That despots in their pride may not restrain ; Swoln with a vigour that is all its own. Y^kwho would steer along these doubtful seas, Lifting your proud sails to high heaven, be- ware ! Rocks throng the waves, and tempests load the breeze : Go, search the shores of History — mark there The Oppressor's lot, the Tyrant's destinies : Behold the Wrecks of Ages ; and despair ! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 15 XI. DESPONDENCY IN BAD TIMES. 1817. OTHAT the Spii-it of my thought could spring As with an eagle's pinion, to that height Wher,e, in the golden palaces of light, Ton Type of freedom dwells, throned like a king ! So might I catch upon expanded wing. And the replenished fountains of the sight, Gleams fresh from heaven, and stoop my earthward flight The thunderbolts of vengeance scattering. But, as it is, sorrow, and shame, supprest, Bow down my heart ; and Fancy droops for- lorn, (Likeyoungbirdsby rude tempests overborne, Or flowers in autumn winds fading full fast) — So I, amid this deepening gloom, unblest, Sit in my Country's shade, and silent mourn ! 16 SONNETS. XII. COLUMBUS. 1. THE crimson sun was sinking down to rest, Pavilioned ou the cloudy verge of heaven ; And Ocean on her gently heaving breast Caught^ and flashed back, the varying tints of even ; When, on a fragment fi-om the tall cliff riven, With folded ai'ms, and doubtful thoughts opprest, Columbus sat ; till sudden hope was given : A ray of gladness shooting from the West. what a glorious vision for mankind Then dawned above the twilight of his mind ; Thoughts shadowy still, but indistinctly grand ! There stood his Genius, face to face ; and signed (So legends tell) fiir seaward with her hand : Till a new World sprang up, and bloomed be- neath her wand ! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 17 XIII. COLUMBUS. 2. HE was a man wliom danger conld not daunt, Nor sophistry perplex, nor pain subdue ; A stoic, reckless of the world's vain taunt, And steeled the path of honour to pursue : So, when by all deserted, still he knew How best to sooth the heartsick, or confront Sedition ; schooled with equal eye to view The frowns of grief, and the base pangs of want. But when he saw that promised land arise In all its rare and bright varieties, Lovelier than fondest Fancy ever trod, Then softening nature melted in his eyes ; He knew his fame was full, and blessed his God; And fell upon his face, and kissed the virgin sod ! 18 SONNETS. XIV. COLUl^IBUS. 3. BEAUTIFUL realm beyond the western main, That hymns thee ever with resounding wave, Thine is the glorious sun's peculiar reign ! Fruits, flowers, and gems, in rich mosaic pave Thy paths : like giant altars o'er the plain Thy mountains blaze, loud thundering, mid the rave Of mighty streams, that shoreward rush amain. Like Polyphemc from his Etnean cave. Joy, joy, for Spain ! a seaman's hand confers These glorious gifts, and half the world is hers ! But where is He — that light whose radiance glows The load-star of succeeding mariners ? Behold him ! crushed beneath o'ermastering woes — Hopeless, heart-broken, chained, abandoned to his foes ! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 19 XV. THE TOMB OF CHARLEMAGNE. AMID the torch-lit gloom of Auchen's aisle Stood Otho, Germany's imperial Lord, Regarding, with a melancholy smile, A simple stone, where, fitly to record A world of action by a single word. Was graven " Caklo-Magno." Regal style Was needed none : that name such thoughts restored As sadden, yet make nobler men the while. They rolled the marble back : with sudden gasp A moment o'er the vault the Kaiser bent. Where still a mortal monarch seemed to reign. Crowned, on his throne, a sceptre in his grasp, Perfect in each gigantic lineament, Otho looked face to face on Charlemas-ne I 20 SONNETS. XVI. DTOCLESIAN AT SALONA. TAKE back these vain insignia of command, Crown, truncheon, golden eagle, — baubles all— And robe of Tyrian dye, to me a pall : And be for ever alien to my hand, Thoughlaurel-Avreathed, War's desolatingbrand: I would have fnends, not courtiers, in my hall; Wise books, frank converse, Beauty free • from thrall, And leisure for good deeds, thoughtfully planned. Farewell, thou garish World ! thou Italy, False Widow of departed Liberty ! I scorn thy base caresses. Welcome the roll, Between us, of mine own bright Adrian sea ! Welcome these wilds, from whose bold heights my soul Looks down on your degenerate Capitol ! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 21 XVII. THE OLD LITERATURE OP EN" GLAND. 1. THESE are the mighty footprints that report The giant form of antique Literature ; Sinews Herculean ; proportion pure ; Strength, or agility, for strife or sport ; Dexterity in fence ; grace for the Court. No meretricious jargon, to allure, "Wrote those of old ; but language to endure, The stem regards of Time. Ill ye assort With that undying philosophic spirit Which breathes in these worn pages, who deride Their scant reward of praise. They best inherit The fame of a great era, when the pride Of nations was, in all things loyalty, And trust in God, and magnanimity. 22 SONNETS. XVIII. THE OLD LITERATURE OF ENGLAND. 2. IN them the spirit of reason was not mute, Nor uninspired ; such were of little worth: Their wisdom seemed some natural attribute ; Their faith a plant in Spring-tide budding forth : For as a tree draws vigour from the Earth, So in the depths of reason spreads the root Of that strong faith, whose seed hath heavenly birth, And lifts again to heaven its ripened fruit. Yet dared not These to mock by argument ^Mysteries of Grace — self-love they scorned to win : But power Divine shewed forth, and sternly bent A Pythian bow against prevailing Sin. In works abounding, as in doctrine pure, Long shall their memory live, their crowns endure ! ON CHARACTER AND EVENTS. 23 XIX. THE SOLDIERS OF THE CROSS. THEY fought — nor fought in vain: their constancy Triumphed on Earth, and they enjoy their great Reward with God ! So may it be our fate With spiritual foes to wrestle : so may we, Following their track, strong in their armory, The traitor host afiront, and extirpate All schism ! Awake ! it is not yet too late — The Church shall conquer still — and far and free Over the nations her bright oriflamb Float, like the glorious clouds of evening hours. That herald peaceful mornings ! In the name Of God, stand forth, ye consecrated Powers ! The time is come — ignoble foes surround — False friends betray — strike ! 'tis on holy ground ! 2-1 SONNETS. XX. THE CRADLES OF EMPIRE. TWO mountain centres are there upon earth Where mighty ^Monarchies have reared their throne And down the conquering rivers followed forth The imperial instinct to the ocean zone : Deep in the Orient, Caucasus is one : Whence sprang the Persian ; where the !Mede had birth ; "\Miere Asshur reign'd, and Babel's glory shone ; And Cyrus on Belshazzar's godless mirth Fell like a thunderbolt. Thence Tamurlane Let loose his fiital horsemen ; and the car Of Gengis rolled ; and Othnian's cimetar Smote the last Ca3sar 'neath Sophia's fane ! Above our Ali)ine throne a nobler slar Dawned over Greece and Romej Alfred and Charlemagne ! DESCRIPTIVE. 25 II. DESCRIPTIVE. CASTLECONNEL. BROAD, but not deep, along his rock- chafed bed, In many a sparkling eddy winds the flood, Clasped by a margin of green underwood : A castled crag, with ivy garlanded, Sheer o'er the torrent frowns : above the mead De Burgho's towers, crumbling o'er many a rood, Stand gauntly out in airy solitude Backed by yon furrowed mountain's tintedhead. Sounds of far people, mingling with the fall Of waters, and the busy hum of bees, And larks in air, and throstles in the trees, Thrill the moist air with murmurs musical. While cottage smoke goes drifting on the breeze ; And sunny clouds are floating over all. 26 SONNETS. KILMALLOCK. WHAT ruined shapes of feudal pomp are there, In the cold moonlight fading silently ? The castle, with its stern, baronial air, Still frowning, as accustomed to defy ; The Gothic street, where Desmond's chivalry Dwelt in their pride ; the cloistered house of prayer ; And gate- towers, mouldering where the stream moans by, Now, but the owl's lone haunt, and fox's lair. Here once the pride of princely Desmond flushed ; His courtiers knelt, his mailed squadrons rushed ; And saintly brethren poured the choral strain : Here Beauty bowed her head, and smiled and blushed : — Ah ! of these glories what doth now remain ? The charnel of yon desecrated fane ! DESCRIPTIVE. 27 III. THE ROCK OF CASHEL. ROYAL and saintly Casliel ! I would gaze Upon the wreck of thy departed powers Not in the dewy light of matin hours, Nor the meridian pomp of summer's blaze, But at the close of dim autumnal days, When the sun's parting glance, through slanting showers. Sheds o'er thy rock-throned battlements and towers Such awful gleams as brighten o'er Decay's Prophetic cheek. At such a time, methinks, There breathes from thy lone courts and voiceless aisles A melancholy moral ; such as sinks On the lone traveller's heart, amid the piles Of vast Persepolis on her mountain stand, Or Thebes half buried in the desert sand. 28 SONNETS. rv. THE SHANNON. RIVER of billows, to whose mightj heart The tide-wave rushes of the Atlantic sea ; River of quiet depths, by cultured lea, Romantic wood, or city's crowded mart; River of old poetic founts, which start From their lone mountain-cradles, wild and free, Nursed with the fawns, lulled by the wood- lark's glee, And cushat's hymeneal song apart : River of chieftains, whose baronial halls, Like veteran warders, watch each wave- worn steep, Portumna's towers, liunratty's royal walls, Carrick's stern rock, the Geraldine's gray keep — River of dai'k mementoes ! must I close My lips with Limerick's wrong, with Aughrim's woes? DESCRIPTIVE. 29 THE SEA-CLIFFS OF KILKEE. AWFULLY beautiful art thou, O sea ! Viewed from the vantage of these giant rocks, That vast in air lift their primeval blocks, Skreening the sandy cove of lone Kilkee. Cautious, with out-stretched arm, and bended knee, I scan the dread abyss, 'till the depth mocks My straining eyeballs, and the eternal shocks Of billows rolling from infinity Disturb my brain. Hark ! the shrill sea-bird's scream ! Cloud-like they sweep the long wave's sapphire gleam, Ere the poised Ospray stoop in wrath from high. Here Man, alone, is nought ; Nature supreme, Where all is simply great that meets the eye — The precipice, the ocean, and the sky. 30 SONNETS. vr. THE HILL OF SAINT PATRICK. THERE is a moment of intense delight When, standing on the place of some great deed, We mark where human intellect for right Hath triumphed, as at bloodless Ilannymede, Or where the victim Spartan fell in fight, Self sacrificed, that Hellas might be freed ; Beside the walls with Rafiaelle's soul still bright ; Or Chatham's tomb, by Senate-kings decreed. In such a mood, on this bold height, I stand, WTiere first the holy pilgrim, Patrick, trod, And as he gazed upon the glorious land. Like Pisgah's Seer, stirred by the inward God, With the deep weight of prophecy oppressed, Stretched forth, and blessed the land : — and it was blessed ! DESCRIPTIVE. 31 VII. ATLANTIC COAST SCENERY. THE CLIFFS, 1. THESE iron-rifted cliffs, that o'er the deep, Wave-worn and thunder-scarred, enor- mous lower, Stand like the work of some primeval Power, Titan or Demiurgos, that would keep Firm ward for ever o'er the bastioned steep Of turret-crowned Beltard, or mightiest Moher : Vainly beneath, as though they would devour The rooted rocks before them, reel and leap The headlong waves : and as a plumed phalanx, Crushed in the assault of some strong citadel, Indomitable still, its shattered ranks Cheers to the breach again, and yet again, So from the battling billows bursts the swell Of a more awful combat than of men ! 32 SONNETS. Tin. COAST SCENERY. THE CLIFFS. 2. ^ I "'HOUGH all is grand, nay, somewhat stern, -^ around, Yet softer beauties decorate the scene : No floral garniture of meadow ground, No perspective of pastures evergreen, No shadowy pomp of woods, no silver sheen Of waterfalls, with music in their sound, Nor mountains, fading in the blue serene, Nor perfume of the gardens, here are found. Yet here hath Nature lavished hues, and scent, And melody, born handmaids of the ocean : Metallic veins, with moss and rock-flowers blent, Brighten the laminated crag ; the motion Of waves, the breezes fragrant from the sea, And cry of bii'ds, combine one glorious symphony 1 DESCRIPTIVE. 33 IX. COAST SCENERY. THE HAG'S-HEAD CAPE. ^^HAT last and loftiest cape, whose wasted A front Looks down the Atlantic watei's evermore, Far out above the main sustains a gaunt Colossal head (so seems it) bending o'er, With stony gaze perpetual, the wild shore : There fixed for ages, where her wiles were wont To lure and to betray, a mightier Power Charmed into stone the Siren at her haunt, A monumental beacon. Such the tale Our simple hinds rely on, to its place Accordant. In that hoary mass we trace Features, like death infrost compressed and pale. And awful as the sculptures in the vale Of Nile — the !Memphian Sphinx, and Osymandias. 34 SONNETS. X. COAST SCENERY. SPANISH POINT. THE waters — the waters! — Wild and glooming, Beneath the stormy pall that shrouds the sky, On, through the deepening mist more darkly looming, Plumed with the pallid foam funereally. Onward, like death, they come, the rocks en- tombing ! Nor thunder knell is needful from on high ; Nor sound of signal gun, momently booming O'er the disastrous deep ; nor seaman's cry ! And yet, — if aught were wanting — manifold Mementoes haunt those reefs: how that proud Host Of Spain and Rome so smitten were of old. By God's decree, along this fatal coast. And over all their purple and their gold, Mitre, and helm, and harp, the avenging waters rolled ! DESCRIPTIVE. 35 XI. COAST SCENERY. MALBAY SANDS. IT may not be, because this tranquil hour, Brightening elsewhere to beauty scenes more grand, Here lights with milder beam a lowlier strand, And that yon sea, like a tired warrior, For quiet joy hath laid aside his power. That unattractive, therefore, must expand This graceful curvature of golden sand By the ebbing tide left shining. Vernal bower Is scarce more fragrant than those weeds marine Fringing the chrysolite, pellucid, wells. Wave- worn in the rock, where children stoop for shells. And braiding yon gray reef with tresses green. Where sunset loiterers love at eve to stand — Dark groups, with shadows lengthening to the land. 36 SONNETS. XII. COAST SCENERY. THE SOLITUDES OF MALBAT. AND ! yo solitudes of rocks and waters, And medicinable gales and sounds Lethean, Remote from strife and fratricidal slaughters, Have I not sighed to hear your mighty Proau, Reverberating through the Empyrean ! And yearned to gaze while your white-throated surges Leap, and dissolve in air, like shapes Protean, That sport in the sunset, as the moon emerges Over the sea-cliff? Have I not felt the longing Then most intensely, when the storm-steed rushes O'er the wild waves tumultuously thronging, Smiting their wan crests, — scattering as he crushes ; — To stand on some lone peak, and hear, from under Its caverncd base, the ocean's melancholy thunder ? DESCRIPTIVE. 37 XIII. RTDAL WITH WORDSWORTH. WHAT we beheld scarce can I now recall In one connected picture ; images Hurrying so swiftly their fresh witcheries O'er the mind's mirror, that the several Seems lost, or blended in the mighty All : — Lone lakes ; rills gushing through rock- rooted trees ; Peaked mountains, shadowing vales of peace- fulness ; Glens, echoing to the flashing waterfall. Then that sweet twilight isle, with friends de- layed Beside a ferny bank, 'neath oaks and yews ; The moon between two mountain peaks em- bayed ; Heaven and the waters dyed with sunset hues : And He, the Poet of the age and land. Discoursing, as we wandered, hand in hand. 38 SONNETS. NIGHTFALL. THE sun is set, the clouds are on tlie hill. In leaden hue the streamlets are arrayed ; And now the damp and gloomy shadows fill The depths of every valley, and distil Unwholesome vapours through each leafy glade : O'er the wide scene a soml^re gray is laid : The distant town and spire lie dim and still ; And a cold night wind gathers in the shade. Feebler and feebler now all sounds subside ; All but the river's ever murmuring tide ; All but the rising tempest's sullen swell ; Or sheep-dog baying from the moorlands wide ; Or stifled utterance of the far churh bell, Tolling the passing hour, as Nature's parting knell ! DESCRIPTIVE. 39 XV. GOUGAim BAERA. NOT beauty which men gaze on with a smile, Not grace that wins, no charm of form or hue, Dwelt with that scene. Sternly upon my view, And slowly — as the shrouding clouds awhile Disclosed the beetling crag and lonely isle — From their dim lake the ghostly mountains grew, Lit by one slanting ray. An eagle flew From out the gloomy gulf of the defile, Like some sad spirit from Hades. To the shore Dark waters rolled, slow heaving, with dull moan ; The foam-flakes, hanging from each livid stone Like froth on deathful lips : pale mosses o'er The shattered cell crept, as an orphan lone Clasps his cold mother's breast when life is gone. 40 SONNETS. XTI. LISMORE. A MEETING of bright streams and valleys green; Of heathy precipice ; umbrageous glade ; Dark, dimpling eddies, 'neath bird-haunted shade ; White torrents gushing splintered rocks be- tween; With winding woodland roads ; and, dimly seen Through the deep dell ere hazy sunset fade, Castle, and spire, and bridge, in gold arrayed ; While o'er the deepening mist of the ravine The perspective of mountain looms afar. Such was our Raleigh's home — and here his eye Drank deep of Nature's wild variety, Feeding on hopes and dreams ! From the world's war Retired, he dwelt : nor deemed how soon his star Should set, dishonoured, in a bloody sea ! DESCRIPTIVE. 41 XVII. CASTLE MARTYR. A GENTLE voice, and plaintive, whispers here Of an unfading, though a widowed love. Where'er her footsteps wandered, 'neath the grove, By the green margin of the waters clear, Or through those laurel thickets never sere ; The seats she pressed, the lawns she loved to rove, Flowers nurtured by her tender hand that wove A living broidery o'er each quaint parterre ; All, all, unchanged, as when her own warm breath For him diflTused fragrance more sweet than flowers ! All bright as when the balmy evening hours Lured her last footsteps by the accustomed path. With him she loved ; unconscious of the death Ambushed, even then, in those delicious bowers ! 42 SONNETS. XYIII, GLENGARRIFP. 1. GAZING from eacli low bulwark of this bridge, How wonderful the contrast ! Dark as night, Here, amid cliffs and woods, with headlong might, The black stream wliirls, through ferns and drooping sedge, 'Neath twisted roots moss-brown, and weedy ledge. Gushing. Aloft, from yonder birch-clad height Leaps into air a cataract, snow-white ; Falling to gulfs obscure. The mountain ridge, Like a gray Warder, guardian of the scene, Above the cloven gorge gloomily towers. O'er the dim woods a gathering tempest lours ; Save where athwart the moist leaves' lucid green A sunbeam, glancing through disparted showers. Sparkles along the rill with diamond sheen ! DESCRIPTITE. 43 xrx. GLENGARRIFF. 2. A SUN-BURST on tlie Bay ! Turn and be- hold ! The restless waves, resplendent in their glory, Sweep giitteringpastyonpurpled promontory, Bright as Apollo's breastplate. Bathed in gold, Ton bastioned islet gleams. Thin mists are rolled. Translucent, through each glen. A mantle hoary Veils those peaked hills, shapely as e'er in story, Delphic, or Alpine, or Vesuvian old. Minstrels have sung. From rock and headland proud The wild wood spreads its arms around the bay : The manifold mountain cones, now dark, now bright, Now seen, now lost, alternate from rich light To spectral shade ; and each dissolving cloud Reveals new mountains while it floats away. 44 SONNETS. III. PERSONAL. MISCELLANEOUS. THE FA:\nLY PICTURE. WITH work in hand, perchance some fairy cap To deck the little stranger yet to come ; One rosy boy struggling to mount her lap, The eldest studious, with a book or map ; Her timid girl beside, with a faint bloom, Conning some tale ; while with no gentle tap Yon chubby urchin beats his mimic drum, Nor heeds the doubtful frown her eyes assume. So sits the Mother ! with her fondest smile Regarding her sweet Little-ones the while : And he, the happy man ! to whom belong These treasures, feels their living charm beguile All mortal care ; and eyes the prattling throng With rapture-rising heart, and a thanksgiving tongue. PERSONAL. MISCELLANEOUS. 46 SOLITUDE AND SOCIETY. O MARVEL not that, lonely thus I love To pace the devious pathways of this wood ; Or meditate beneath yon piny grove Where the slant beam, trembling, dares scarce intrude ; Or mid these mossy rocks in silence brood. Here thoughts which joy in liberty to rove Swell up, like waves in ocean's solitude When all is calm around, and bright above. Yet do I love thee well. Society ! When on my hearth the wintry faggots blaze, And jest, and friendly laugh, ring cheerily ; Or some dear voice recounts heroic lays ; Or gentle maid, blushing at whispered praise, Sings some pathetic strain of antique harmony. 46 SONNETS. TO OTHER TIMES. OWHEN I muse below these hazel bowers, With ear attuned to the wild babbling stream, Its very lapse goes by me like a dream, Recalling distant scenes of weeds and flowers : I know of old yon sweeping mountain showers ; That ivied crag some ancient friend I deem ; The birds salute me ; and those breezes seem Laden with odours of departed hours. But ah ! — these tones of early hope and pleasure, That stole so sweetly o'er my hours of leisure, Have not the influence now, they had before : Then life was unalloyed, a growing treasure : But now, each thought I sadly linger o'er Tells but of broken ties, and friends that are no more ! PERSONAL, MISCELLANEOUS. 47 IT. THE PORTRAIT. T. S. R. THAT couiiteiiance is noble ; we descry Features that love might dwell upon for ever : The sweet, clear-spirited glance that's no deceiver ; Firm, yet persuasive lips ; a cheek whose dye Study hath stolen some roses from ; an eye Upsparkling like the sunbeams on a river ; High-swelling brows, throbbing with thought that never Knew darker clouds than sensibility. My brother ! — for to me, indeed, thou art What nature hath denied me — in my heart I treasure thy dear lineaments, and dwell Long-lingering over each, and loth to part. Thou look'st upon me with a silent spell Imaging her fair face we love so well. \ 48 SONNETS. V. THE STATUE OF MOSES. FROM ZAPPI. WHAT form in everlasting marble wrought Sits, giantlike, Art's noblest triumph there ? Voice almost trembles on the lip, high thought Seems throbbing on that brow of grandeur rare. 'Tis Moses I — Lo I that beard of wreathing hair. And the twin glories from his temples shot : Moses ! — but mth that yet diviner air Upon the Mount from God's own presence caught. Such was he once, when the wave's wild rebound Hung o'er him vast ; such, when the deathful roar Of waters closed, at the command of Heaven ! And ye — vile Crew ! — once wor.'^hippers around A worthless calf; had ye but knelt before A shape like this, your sin almost had been forgiven ! PERSONAL. MISCELLANEOUS. 49 VI. THE LANDRAIL. # DEAR, wakeful bird ! I bid thine accents hail, When, like the voice of Maj, thy startling * note Comes wandering up the moonlight, grassj, vale, Or hill of springing corn, or reedy moat : Dearer I love thee than the classic throat. Melodious, of the poet's nightingale, "When her aerial numbers wildly float. Like fairy music, o'er some haunted dale. 'Tis thine to wake a sweeter harmony ; Thrilling the viewless chords of memory : To come upon the heart in silent hours, Touching each trembling pulse deliciously ; Recalling vows of youth, Hope's budding flowers, And visions of pure love in amaranthine bowers ! 50 SONNETS. VII. THE CROSS OP THE SOUTH. WHAT deep emotions o'er thy features rush, Grama ! — what sudden tremour of the soul ? The storm is past, the moonlit billows roll Glossy and still, amid the general hush : There's not a sound, save the light rippling gush Round the ship's prow ; or clear bell's vesper toll :— But ha ! — I, too, behold ! — the Antarctic pole, Lifting her veil of clouds, streams forth a flush Of starry light, miraculously bent, A glorious Cross, athwart the firmament. O heavenly Apparition ! throned on high In form so holy, art thou the covenant Of mercy, in our lone extremity. Or a memento dire, to warn us ere we die ? PERSONAL. MISCELLANEOUS. 51 VIII. FROM PETRARCH. I RAISED my mind to heaven, and there, methought, Within the pale of that celestial sphere She stood whom long on earth I vainly sought ; More lovely than of old, and less austere. She took my hand, and said — " To me, even here. If Hope deceive not, thou shalt yet be brought ; To me, thy mortal bane, yet still most dear. From the bright morn of life untimely caught ! My bliss no human heart can understand : I wait but thee, and what was dear to thee, That delicate mould which yet remains beneath." Why ceased she then to speak — why loosed my hand? At those meek tones, and words of charity, My soul of Heaven's pure clime appeared to breathe ! 52 SONNETS. IX. FROM PETRARCH. THAT lovely paleness growing o'er thy face, That smile which, as a love-cloud, spreads and fades, Speak with such eloquence, such feeling grace. To my fond heart, that answering pallour shades My cheek ; and now I know how souls embrace, And thought meets thought, in Eden's sacred glades ; Thoughts kind as thine to me, which none can trace But eyes like mine, which seek no other maids. Those gentle deeds, those looks of angel birth, Which women in their fondness use to wear, How cold to those she deigned on me to bend ! Her beautiful, soft regards, declined to earth. Seemed silently to whisper on my ear — " Who now bereaves mo of my faithful friend?" PERSONAL. MISCELLANEOUS. 53 X. ON THE FUNERAL OF A LADY AND HER SON. THERE I beheld them last— naj, still be- hold— The mother, and her son, both on one bier, In their small coffins sleeping ; both so dear To me, and mine ! The heavy death-bell tolled ; And there was gathering of the young and old Round those sad obsequies : I, in the rear, Stept in slow grief, and deep religious fear, Wrapping my heart in my cloak's silent fold ! And as the earth on each dark coffin's lid Fell, there were tears, O how sincere ! and cries, From the thick-crowding Poor, that rose unhid : Ay, in far countries, there were streaming eyes, And bosoms choked with sobs ; such as suit well A loss whose memory is indelible. 54 SONNETS. XI. T r AINLY tliou bidst me woo tlie lofty muse, ' And with Aveak voice, and hand unskilful, try " To string the orient pearls of poesy:" With pencil dipped in Fancy's rainbow hues Thou bidst me all her hopeful light diffuse O'er this sad world of dull reality : In vain ! — no slumbering spirit of melody Lives on my lyre ; no spell her voice renews. The ring-dove does not strain her tender throat Vainly ambitious of the finches' note : On feeble wing why should I seek to soar, When simplest words thy faithful heart can bless ? Why envious wish for bright poetic lore. When in thy love I find all happiness ? M. PERSONAL. MISCELLANEOUS. 55 XII. TO THE NIGHTINGALE. FROM PETRARCH. AH, once again prolong that thrilling strain That tells of transports now forever gone; Of fruitless sorrows, eager wishes vain, Of baseless dreams, and airy hopes o'erthrown : Brightly on ns the sun of pleasure shone ! Now its remembered beams but mock my pain ; Shaping that form I ne'er shall clasp again — From my encircling arms for ever flown. For She, too, loved to list thy melting note, As oft we strayed beneath the moon's pale ray ; While, scarcely heard, the rivulet remote Under the quivering beam in beauty lay — Angel adored ! on thy blest pinions float, O'er my sick heart; and sooth my slow decay ! M. 56 SONNETS. XIII. FROM PETRARCH. WEEPING foi- all mj long-lost years I go, And for that love which to this world confined A spii'it, whose strong flight, for heaven de- signed, No mean example might on man bestow. Thouwho didst mark my wanderings and my woe. Great King of heaven ! unseen, immortal, ]\Iind ! Succour this weary being, frail and blind. And may thy grace o'er all my failings flow ! Then, though my life through warring tempests passed, My death may tranquilly and gently come : And my calmed soul may flee in pesice at last : "While o'er that space which shuts me from the tomb. And on my death bed, be thy blessing cast — From Thee, in trembling hope, God ! I wait my doom ! M. 57 IV. HISTOEICAL. THE CRUSADERS. 1. THE flattering crowd wreath laurels for the brow Of blood-stained chief, or regal conqueror ; To Ccesar, or the Macedonian, bow ; Meteors of Earth, that set to rise no more — A Hero-worship, as of old ! Not now Should Christians bend with servUe reverence o'er The fading pageantry of paynim lore. True Heroes they whose consecrated vow Led them to Jewry, fighting for the Cross ! While not by Avarice lured, or lust of power Inspired, they combated that Christ should reign, And life for Him laid down counted no loss. On Dorylasum's plain, by Antioch's tower, And Ascalon, sleep well the martyred slain. 58 SONNETS. II. THE CRUSADERS. 2. GODFREY, first Christian Captain ! Bohe- mond ! Tancrcd ! and he, whose wayworn gabardine, Andsteel cladlimbs.thethrone of Const antine Pressed in the face of day, though thousands frowned ! Once more your dust, beneath the Charmer's wand, Starts into form, and in the heroic line Of Scotland's Bard, or Tasso the divine, Breathes vital air ! Glorious in life, beyond The grave ye triumph ! With undying Palms The soldiers of the Cross are garlanded: For them the Poet pours immortal breath ! The songthat shall notdic their worth embalms! Like perfume from the Martyr's sanguine bed Glory exhales around their cells of death. HISTORICAL. 59 III. THE CRUSADERS. 3. THE COUNCIL OF CLERMONT. AMID the throng the Hermit stood ; so wan, Careworn, and travel-soiled ; with genius high Throned on his brow, shrined in his spiritual eye. The Hermit spake — and through the council ran A tremour, not of fear ; as in the van. Chafing before embattled Chivalry, A proud steed listens for the clarion's cry, So sprang they to their feet : and every man, Pontiflfand Prince, Prelate and Peer, caught up Their swords, and kissed the crosiered hilts, and swore, As though their lips the sacramental cup Had touched, Christ's sepulchre to free ! The shore Of Asia heard that sound, ia thunder hurled — " Deus id vult " from Clermont through the world ! 60 SONNETS. IV. THE CRUSADERS. 4. THE TEMPLARS. THE victory for God, or holy death, They sought alone ; honour, not length of days ; For penitence — not joy, nor human praise, Nor wealth, nor love — they raised their suppliant breath ; Steeled like their limbs, their hearts were mailed in faith : Toil, and austere neglect, and the fierce blaze Of Asian skies, had bronzed their brow: their gaze Was as the Serpent's, terrible : beneath Their rush in battle, fatal as the Pard, The foe fell prone, nor unhoped mercy prayed : Yet in the hour of peace, with helm unbarred, Their voice was mild, their hand outstretched to aid. Chaste and devout ; inflexibly severe ; They lived without a smile — gave death no tear. HISTORICAL. 61 V. THE CEUSADERS. 5. THE CHILDREN BAND. ALL holy influences dwell within The breast of Childhood : instincts fresh from God Inspire it, ere the heart beneath the rod Of grief hath bled, or caught the plague of sin. How mighty was that fervour which could win Its way to infant souls ! — and was the sod Of Palestine by infant Croises trod ? Like Joseph went they forth, or Benjamin, In all their touching beauty, to redeem ? And did their soft lips kiss the sepulchre ? Alas ! the lovely pageant, as a dream, Faded ! they sank not through ignoble fear ; They felt not Moslem steel. By mountain, stream, In sands, in fens, they died — no mother near ! 62 SONNETS. VI. THE CRUSADERS. 6. JERUSALEM DELIVEEED. THE Hermit stoodbeside the Saviour's tomb. His mission past, his righteous hopes fulfilled ; He who, longy ears agone, had wept and kneeled At Salem, in her hour of bondage gloom. There, too, from taint of blood made pure, they come — Contrite they come — each fiery passion stilled — The warriors of the Cross. Ah ! then how thrilled Thy bosom, Godfrey, treading that dear home Of all thy troubled thoughts, and pious toil, In the white robe of peace, with temples bare; And lingering o'er each hallowed scene — where'er The Saviour's feet had sanctified the soil ! While red-cross banners waved o'er Moslem spoil ; And sainted Soirits hovered in the air. HISTORICAL. 63 YII. THE CRUSADERS. 7. PHILOSOPHIC DEPRECIATION. " XT THAT profit," cool Economists ex- ' » claim, " These wasteful brawls and inexpedient wars ! To get more blows than pence, and ugly scars, Mementoes dire of perishable fame, Suits not a truly philosophic aim : Men meddle much, forsooth ; and meddling mars More than it mends : and Turkish cimeters Not fiercelier bite than Christian fagot-flame. Besides, the Arabians were so mathematical ! Moreover, Moslems are extremely prayerful ; And Saladin by no means was fanatical ! In short, the more you weigh in balance careful Those old barbaric Christians, void of letters, You'll find Mahometans were much their betters." 04 SONNETS. viir. THE CRUSADERS. «. CHRISTIAN ARGUMENT. I ANSWER thus. 'Tis not enough to live Securely moral ; watchful not to break Strict covenants with Man ; nor to partake With sinners : not enough to trade and thrive ; And with a grave ostent, give and forgive ; Or cherish knowledge as a Power to shake Thrones. But it was a noble thing to make " God's will " the Nation's watchword ; and to rive Selfish ambition from the heart of Kings, And lead to righteous ends through painful ways. Exiles and warriors for the Faith to be, Was good ; and good, regardless of the stings Of pain and grief, to stand with yearning gaze, Renouncing Earth, fixed on Eternity ! HISTORICAL. 65 IX. THE PLANTAGEI^ETS. TRUE Christians ! worthy Knights ! heroic Kings ! They come ; they come ! the regal shades draw near, With bannered pomj) advancing — Prince, and Peer, And saintly Prelate. Hark ! the welkin rings Triumphant : and the laureled minstrel flings Warlike and jubilant music on the ear ! Of Azincour, of Crecy, and Poictier, And Ascalon, the inspiring chaunt he sings ; Of those three puissant Edwards ; and of him, Richard, the lion-hearted warrior ; And Henry radiant from the fields of France. — Ask'st thou, why years such glory make not dim ? Their works reply : cloister, and fane, and tower. Have voices fine as clarion's utterance ! 66 SONNETS. X. THE BARONS AT RUNNIMEDE. WITH what an awful grace those Barons stood In presence of the King at Runnimede I Their silent finger to that righteous Deed O'er which, with cheek forsaken of its blood, , He hung — still pointing with stern hardihood ; And brow that spake the unuttered man- date — " Read ! " " Sign ! " He glares round — Never ! — Though thousands bleed He will not ! Hush — Low words, in solemn mood, Are murmured — and — he signs. Great God ! were these Progenitors of our enfeebled kind ? Whose wordy wars are waged to thwart, or please ^linions, not Kings : who stoop with gro- velling mind To weigh the Pauper's dole — scan right by rule — And plunder churches to endow a school! HISTORICAL, 67 XI, THE HOUSE OF TUDOR. 1. AT length "the glorious sun of York" had set Behind the bloody rim of Bosworth field : Hurled from his heaven, Richard scorning to yield, Lay like a vanquished Titan. There had met, For their last combat, the Plantagenet And Tudor : there the rival Roses sealed A covenant : and to the Bridal reeled, Drunk with fraternal gore. War ceased — and yet The hereditary fire in Tudor's vein Bounded : once more contentious cries arose. And controversial fury raved again. And ermined hands smote spiritual foes, And brother brother slew ! An iron reign Was Tudor's : yet with blessing at its close. 68 SOKNETS. XII. THE HOUSE OF TUDOR. 2. AH, sanguinary Race — baptized in blood ! Rightly by your Lancastrian Ancestor, Beueath whose stroke great Edward's grandson bowed Were ye prefigured. Lo! what Phantoms o'er Your restless slumbers bend! Warbcck before Stern Richmond frowns, and Warwick ; long, and loud Grey Salisbury's frantic shrieks of anguish pour On the eighth Harry's ear, and Boleyn's shroud Stifles his death-bed prayer. O'er Mary's eyes Jane's mild regards, and Cranmer's burning hand, And Latimer, and all that martyr band, And ^[others torn from childlicd pangs, arise. Thou, too, Elizabeth ? — Woo worth the day When Scotland's Mary died at Fotheringay. HISTORICAL. 69 XIII. QUEEN ELIZABETH. THE Lioness that stalks the forest bound More awful in her presence and her port Looked not than she: high ia her cloudy court The rock-throned Osprey, glancing sternly round Through sun-lit air unshaken by a sound, From low desires and the base world's resort Seemed elevated less : the Dolphin's sport O'er foam-flecked waves and sapphire depths profound Shewed not a pageant to the eye of morn More bright. Her thoughts were in the purple born; Her eye was empery ; she gave the nod And all obeyed ; all earthly powers with scorn She noted : yea, the fane itself she trod As thouGfh she were the sister of a God ! 70 SONNETS. XIV. CHARLES THE MARTYR. 1. SO geuerons a master, kind a friend, Never beneath the stroke of treason died : A Prince more rifjhteous never was defied By popular Rago ; nor ever forced to bend 'Neath factious Hate : in him were seen to blend Grandeur "\\4th meekness, and the rep:al pride By human virtues tempered, and allied With Christian graces. Learning to defend The Faith, and zeal to curb the Infidel, And constancy the issue to abide, Were his. He stood before the Parricide Fearless ; and with a martyr spirit fell ! By impious foes beguiled, false friends be- trayed. The dying Saint for his destroyers prayed ! HISTORICAL. 71 CHARLES THE MARTYR. 2. PERFECT he was not, being but a man, And subject to temptation as a King : Knowledge came to him from afar, a thing Misshaped as craft inspired, or rumour ran. He fell upon a time when Thought began With Faith to wrestle ; and hot youth to spring Into the seat of age ; the Serf to fling His chain to earth ; the Fanatic to ban The altar, and to beard anointed Power. Authority so scorned, prerogative So lightly valued, and so ill defined. Unhappy was the Prince who ruled that hour ! Unhappy we — unless our hearts we give To that great warning he bequeathed mankind ! 72 SONNETS. XVI, THE PARLIAMENTARY LEADERS. HAMPDEN and Essex, Fairfax, Algernon ! Ay, those were Hearts not narrowed to a Sect : Generous of blood, in cultured Intellect Supreme, they stood apart ; the wreaths they won Sprang not in crypts — they wrought in the open sun : Amid the baser crew they moved erect, Frank in their speech, their acts above suspect; Danger they scorned, and praise, or malison, Nor sought nor would avoid. Stern, tho' sin- cere, And more admired than loved, they toiled to gain A barren victory, and died in vain. And ! forget not Her, their l)right Compeer — Her, who spake fearless for her Sovereign Before his Butchers — high-souled child* of Vere ! • LailvFairfax : ilauphtcr of Sir Horace Vcre, Lord Til- bury. See Clurendou's account of her couduct at tho trial of the King. HISTORICAL. 73 XVII. OLIVER CROMWELL. FIERCE as his sword at Naseby and Dun- bar — Cold as the hidden cuirass on his breast — Swift in pursuit as falcons — in acquest Eager as vnltnres, scenting from afar The steam of battle, the foul feast of war — Amid a ruffian Faction chief confest Stood Cromwell ; prompt with equal skill to wrest God's law, or institutes of man to dare. Yet, though he reached, he dared not mount the throne ; Though in his grasp, he durst not wear the crown : Lo ! round his board the spectral poniards gleam ! Hark ! by his couch the ghostly victims moan ! His pale lips quiver, his shut eyelids stream ; Stung by the pangs of that Orestean dream ! 74 SONNETS. XTIII. JAMES THE SECOND. THE schoolmen of the state have done thee wrong Lear of the latter time ! Thee, too, false daughters, Cheerincr their mates to parricidal slaughters, Hunted to hopeless exile. In the throng Of bloodhounds, tracking thy pale flight along, The nursling of thy heart, the household friend, The creature of thy bounty, these, to rend Their palpitating Victim, foremost sprung. Stern was the doom ! yet forfeiture was just. That oath, the sacred sanction of the throne, By the Church hallowed, clothed thee with a trust Enduring as the jewel of thy crown. Thou from that oath didst fall, that Church disown, Therefore thy People fell from thee like dust. HISTORICAL. 75 XIX. THE MAN OF GLENCOE. T F this be true, that from thy lip, or hand, J- The mandate passed — or the inexpressive eye Kindling to keen, yet cold ferocity, Consented — or that hints forestalled command — Too long hath Vengeance slept : too long the brand Of shame by flattering wreaths been hid. To die Untimely, yet unjudged, doth not imply Atonement. Rise, at last, and take thy stand. Great King! before the Avenger! Wake — arise 1 Posterity the Judge, amid the cries Of the Tinforgotten slain, his sentence slow Records ; — for desecrated household ties ? — For wrong fraternal ? filial treason ? — No ! Grave on his tomb but one dark word : " Glencoe." 76 SONNETS. XX. THE SOLDIERS OF SARSFIELD. BEFORE the standards of his daughter flying By Boyne's dark stream, even as a stag at bay, Stood hapless James in arms ; yet loathed to slay. One faithful Band alone, mid foes defying, And perjured friends deserting and denying, Clung round him as a breastplate thro' that day, The fate they might avert not to delay : There, where ill-omened Dane, and Dutchman dying Lay thickest, his wild slogan o'er the plain Sarsfield's indomitable soldiers pealed, ' In vain, alas ! for James ! but not in vain For vengeance ! Soon Almanza heard once more That cry: and Fontenoy's disastrous field Those fatal bayonets dyed with kindred gore. HISTORICAL. 77 XXI. THE SCOTTISH BISHOPS AT THE REVOLUTION". GREAT "Witnesses on earth for sacred truth Were Scotland's ancient Prelates : " Serve the King "— So spake the Tempter : " Serve, and ye shall bring Much profit to your Order — triumph, in sooth, Unto the Church — and to your foemen ruth ! " Knowing theii' danger, and the Man, this thing They would not. No ! though Persecution wring The panting heart, and Penury's fell tooth Gnaw at their vitals ! Gloriously they dared The crisis. But the traitorous Tempter — he, Cold TrajBficker in profitable crime — For him was the red arm of Justice bared ? The Church strikes not : but waiting God's good time Endures, not sanctions, passing Tyranny. 78 SONNETS. RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. PRAYER. AND wliat is prayer ? not with bold grasp to seize God's gifts, as suitors clamouring for a share ; Not cold, set phrases, loud doxologies, Of Wealth or Wisdom, patronizing prayer ; Not cant, that hurls with sanctimonious air Fanatic comminations ; not bent knees. Bowed necks, joined palms, brows crossed with pious care ; (Harmless but feeble ceremonies these !) Not such is prayer. God's shrine is in our hearts : From them tlie prostrate spirit silently Profiers its adoration ; meditates The Gospel word ; for pardon supplicates ; Fears, yet confides ; from duty not departs ; Feels faith on earth, hope in eternity ! RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 79 PRINCIPLE, NOT EXPEDIENCY. SHALL it be said, Lord ! shall it be said That men must be incited on their path Of trial through this world by hope, or dread, Of human accident in life or death ? Why on this world's vain wisdom waste we breath, Follies of false philosophy, inbred ? MTiy preach the recompenceWmi vii'tue hath — The ivorth of character — the glonj shed On patriotic deeds ? Should we not ever Make Right our rule, which is immutable ; Nor fear a fall when strong in Principle ? Good works are Acts of Faith. Christ does not sever The deed from the design, and the endeavour : But makes the basis of His law God's will ! 80 SONNETS. in. JERUSALEM. AND sit'st thou there, O lost Jerusalem ! Bowed down, yet something still of royal state Ennobling thee in ruin ? Thee the weight Of age regards not : thou art as the gem Undimmed by time : yet is the diadem, And thrones, that made thee like the common Great, All perished, and thy People desolate ; Thy holiness a scoff, thy power a dream ! The arm of the Omnipotent is on Thy guiltiness ; a living Death art thou ; An all-enduring miracle : for God Hath set, in record of His slaughtered Son, His ineffaceable seal upon thy brow ; And cursed the land a dying Saviour trod ! RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 81 IV. mTIMATIONS OF PAST EXISTENCE. OMORN of life ! fast fleeting moments lent For sinful souls on trial ! Dost tlaou, indeed, Bear witness to some foregone act decreed By righteous Power to tempered punishment ? pleasant dreams of childhood ! are ye sent Preluding knowledge; — light designed to feed The fruitful germ within its flowery tent ? Or, rather, hold we not that as the seed Is of the flower begotten, Memory Still prompts the vision ? Thus the slumbering child, On pinions unforgotten wafted free, Floats o'er the shadowy breadth of waters wild ; Revels in light, the tissue of the morn ; And hears the choral swell of harmonies sphere- born ! 82 SONNETS. n["'HERE is no remedy for time misspent ; ■^ No healing for the waste of idleness Whose very languor is a punishment Heavier than active souls can feel or guess. O hours of indolence and discontent, Not now to be redeemed ! ye sting not less Because I know this span of life was lent For lofty duties, not for selfishness. Not to be •w'iled away in aimless dreams, But to improve ourselves, and serve mankind. Life, and its choicest faculties were given. Man should be ever better than he seems : And shape his acts, and discipline his mind. To ^valk adorning earth, with hope of heaven. 1 RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 83 VI. OFT have I thought they err, who, having lost That love-gift of our youth an infant child, Yield the faint heart to those emotions wild With which, too oft, strong memory is crost, Shrinking with sudden gasp, as if a ghost Frowned in their path. Not thus the precepts mild Of Jesus teach, which never yet beguiled Man with vain promises. God loves us most When chastening us : and He who conquered Death Permits not that we still deem death a curse. The font is Man's true tomb ; the grave his nurse For heaven, and feeder with immortal breath. grieve not for the Dead ! none pass from earth Too soon : God then fulfils His purpose in our birth! 84 SONNETS. VII. SACRED AND PROFANE WRITERS. LET those who will hang raptnrously o'er The flowing eloquence of Plato's page, Repeat, with flashing eye, the sounds that pour From Homer's verse as with a torrent's rage ; Let those who list, ask Tully to assuage Wild hearts with high- wrought periods, and restore The reign of rhetoric, or maxims sage Winnow from Seneca's sententious lore. Not these, but Judah's hallowed bards, to me Are dear : Isaiah's noble energy ; The temperate grief of Job ; the artless strain Of Ruth, and pastoral Amos ; the high songs Of David ; and the tale of Joseph's wrongs, Simply pathetic, eloquently plain. RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 85 VIII. CHRISTMAS BELLS. SWEET-SOUKDING bells, blithe sum- moners to prayer ! From midnight till auspicious day return Tour far re-echoing' melody, wind-borne From dome and tower comes bounding on the air ; As though the mighty voice of Earth were there. The jubilant cry of multitudes, to warn Creation that a Saviour-Lord this morn For all had birth ! Far off, and every where, Swells the harmonious tumult ; billowy sound, Wild, yet concordant ; beautifully blending With the sonorous organ of the wind : O fortunate indeed ! if there be found Hearts dutiful as voices — souls ascending To heaven, with love sincere, faith uncon- fined! 86 SONNETS. THE WAYS OF THE WORLD. UNFEELIXG World ! I mourn your vanished worth : For when I look around, where'er I turn, I can Bee nought but selfishness on earth ; Something to hate, to pity, or to scorn. The Rich are grown too strong, the Poor forlorn ; The tongue of Malice thrives ; and there's a dearth Of all the milder traits that should adorn Or smooth the frailties of our human birth. O ! I would rather, in some distant nook. Beneath a sheltering oak, beside a brook, Far from the varying passions of mankind, Know nothing of their ways but in a book ; Be to their follies deaf, their vices blind. And leave, for ever, all their joys and griefs behind ! RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 87 THOUGH care may sap the mind, and anguish bend, And man may wither at the touch of grief, Still may one faithful remedy befriend His saddest hour, and bring a sure relief; And in the book of life, however brief, He still may find some tear-dipped smiles attend ; Detect some lurking charm in every leaf ; And close it up, with pleasure, at the end : For as the traveller of a stormy day. When through the opening clouds the evening ray Glimmers with dewy lustre in the west. Hails the bright promise, so the good man's way Looks fairest at the final hour of rest, When Life lies down in sleep to waken with the Blest ! 88 SONNETS. XI. THE PASSION-FLOWER. ART thou a type of beauty, or of power, Of sweet enjoyment, or disastrous sin ? For each thy name denoteth, Passion-flower ! no ! thy pure corolla's depth within We trace a holier symbol ; yea, a sign 'Twixt God and man ; a record of that hour When the expiatory Act divine Cancelled that curse which was our mortal dower. It is the Cross ! never hath Psalmist's tongue Fitlier of hope to human frailty sung Than this mute Teacher in a floret's breast — A star of guidance the wild woods among ; A page, with more than lettered lore imprest ; A beacon to the havens of the Blest RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 89 XII. THE 24th of AUGUST, 1830. HOW oft, in yontli, I loved to muse beneath The shadow of this ancient cloister dim ;* Watching, beyond those arches dark and grim, Bright through the gloom, yon river's ample breadth, Like Hope on Sorrow smiliug ! But Time fleeth :— Now, with vain bitterness my eyelids swim ! These peopled quays, towers, bridge, no more to him Give joy, whose Hope lies yonder, veiled iu death. Yet, would I wrestle with these pangs, and look Stedfast to heaven, with hand upon that book Whence not alone through holy lips are heard Precept and law from sage or saint departed. But the deep breath of God's suflB.cing word, Outpouring, sweet as tears, to sooth the weary- hearted ! * Askeyton Abbej'. 90 SONNETS. XIII. EASTERDAT, 1834 AGAIN God's messenger hatli visited My Fold, and from my little flock with- drawn A spotless lamb : my Gentle-one is dead ! Her beauty — liow precious in the dawn Of intellectual expression — gone To an untimely grave ! and yet, though fled From earth, though never more in wood or lawn Her step shall bound before us, God hath shed Balm, even from the vial of His wrath ; And we walk cheered, though tearful, down our ])ath. O Comforter ! still heavenward points thy hand, Where my rapt Treasui'cs, clasped in mute embraces, Immortal gleams lighting their upturned faces. With the Cherubic choir take theii' appointed stand ! RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 91 XIV. THE EPISCOPAL CHARACTER. WHOE'ER, tlirough God's permission, and endowed With providential graces, and impelled By the heart's inward voice, clear though not loud. Holds in his grasp that staff the Apostles held, Upon his brow the sacred snows of eld Should manifest experience ; yet no cloud Obscure those eyes, where Passion, long since quelled, Hath left his throne to Wisdom. Firm, not proud, His mien should be ; and firm his voice, though mild ; His language, as his heart, frank like a child ; His judgment subtle, not perplexed ; his spirit Such as becomes an angel-warrior ; The zeal of ancient days he should inherit ; And Faith dwell with him, an abiding Power ! 92 SONNETS, XV. THE DIVINE LAW. THE natural Law, liowe'er remote, obscure Of origin, lies patent to the eye Of Reason ; whence astute Philosophy From shrewd induction points to issues sure : The laws of men but for a time endure ; An d vary, as their plastic frame we spy Through shifting glasses of expediency — The Laws of God, immaculately pure, Unalterably firm, whose sanctions claim Affinity with naught of Earth, these laws Have their deep root in Faith, in Hope their aim, In Mystery their birth, in Love their cause ; League Earth with Heaven ; and, knowing how to bind Angels with Power, have care for human kind. RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 93 XVI. THE PURSUIT OF KN'OWLEDGE. O frail is the condition of our birth, ^^ Our human course with such disasters fraiTght, That solaces are needful of high thought : Our hearts are hungered, aching through the dearth Of knowledge : harvests gleaned from sensual Earth Feed not the soul : etherial fields are sought, Regions whereto the soaring spirits are caught Like eaglets from their ejrie darting forth Into the sunrise. To attain — to know — Is Man's bold prayer. Alas ! the gates of sense Unbarred, through them shall lore immortal flow? Shall intellect reveal, Man's art declare, Mysteries of Grace — Redemption — Provi- dence ? Wisdom and Faith are one ! Be Faith our prayer. 94 SONNETS. XVII. IN argument compressed, in words concise ; In illustration apt and liberal ; Prompt in debate, sagacious to advise ; With zeal, nor doubt, nor danger, might appal ; Christians devout, and Churchmen filial ; Profound, impassioned, lofty, learned, wise : Such were the men, teachers authentical. The Church required — God granted. Energies Like theirs were wasted not in honied phrase. Or frothy descant, or light metaphor. They laboui'ed, earnest to instruct, not please ; Their words were full of weight, as sterling ore ; Their thoughts we ponder — an exhaustlees store — Crying — " God's blessing surely was with these!" RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 95 XVIII. LAUD. OF dauntless spirit, with untiring zeal ; Loving his native land ; munificent ; A liegeman true ; a churchman firmly bent On duty ; with a faith, like tempered mail, Strong to resist ; and courage to prevail, Or bear, how stern soever the event ; So loyally with us dwelt Laud, intent On God's high service, knowing not to quail. Ay, such was Laud ! to death, and after death. Implacably borne down ; even in the grave Maligned. Yet great was his reward, in faith. And love of that dear Church he toiled to save. A righteous Confessor — a steadfast guide — He lived : a martyr for the Truth he died ! 96 SONNETS. XIX. CHARLES THE SECOND. NOT mid wild revelry, ignoble games, And sensual dalliance, wasting year by year. Should tlius tlie Monarch-martyr's Son appear : No frivolous Trifler, steeped in public shames, No Ingrate, scornful of all social claims, Should mount the lineal throne restored. Sincere That heart should be ; and many a pious tear Temper those radiant eyes ; and holy aims Make bright thy path, to gladden a sad realm. All joy for thee should gleam with chastened ray; Hope lure no ^Memory of the Past away ; For lo ! — even now — the thuuder-clouds, to whelm Thy fated House, impend ; and coming Doom Shadows thy faded cheek with deeper gloom ! RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 97 XX. UNIVERSAL PRAYER. CHILDREN' of God, high privilege have we, For whom, throughout the world, all fel- low saints Exalt to heaven their prayers continually: Not lonely kneel we, nor unpitied faints Our heart ; nor uncompanioned our low plaints Ascend : a mighty chain of sympathy Binds Christian men together, and acquaints Their souls with love, and thoughtful charity. joy ! that we, who pray for all, by all Commended are to God in daily prayer : Yea, now, as ia time past, and yet again Through time to come, that Church which shall not fall From night to morn, breathes forth upon the air Meet intercession for the sons of men. 08 SONNETS. XXI. THE CHURCH. AY, Avisely do we call her mother : she Who from her liberal breast yields sn>- tenanco To nations ; a majestic Charity ! 'No marble symbol cold, on suppliant glance Deceitful smiling ! Strenuous her advancf, Yet calm ; while holy ardours, fancy-free. Direct her measured steps : in every chain •>' Sedate — as Una 'neath her forest tree Encompassed by the lions. Why, alas ! Must her perverse and thoughtless child r.n turn From her example ? why must the siil' y breath Of Bigotry stain Charity's pure glass ? Poison the springs of Art and Science — Im. . The brain through life, and sear the lioai' in death ! RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 99 XXII. THE RIGHT USE OF PRAYER. '' I THEREFORE when thou wouldst pray, or -*- dost thine alms, J 5 low not a trump before thee: hypocrites I )o thus, vaingloriously ; the common streets Jjuiist of their largess, echoing their psalms. '< )n such the laud of men, like unctuous balms, Falls with sweet savour. Impious Counter- feits ! Pratingof heaven, for earth their bosom beats! < rrasping at weeds, they lose immortal palms ! < rod needs not iteration nor vain cries : That man communion with his God might share IJelow, Christ gave the ordinance of prayer : N'n^'ue ambages, and witless ecstacies, Avail not : ere a voice to prayer be given The heart should rise on wings of love to heaven. 100 SONNETS. XXIII. THE BROTHERHOOD IX CHRIST. ALL men are brethren in Grod's equal eye ; Yea, sons of God, partaking Christian grace. How fades all outward pomp of power and place, Glory and wealth, frail beauty's pageantry. Prerogatives of earth that swiftly fly, Before that noblest birthright of our race, The Brotherhood with Christ ! Now face to face With God we stand. In Him disparity Of love, proportioned to man's earthly state, Exists not : right of eldership is none Where all with Christ are heirs. The Low, the Great, The Wise, the Simple, gather round His throne In heaven, one equal boon to supplicate: — God's sons confest ! the Brethren of the Son ! RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 101 XXIV. "THY KIIsTGDOM COME." 1. THY diadem is Grace, Thy sceptre Power, Lord of that kingdom which shall have no end ! Thou, at whose frown Hell quakes, and demons cower. With Thee shall Man debate — shall Earth contend ? Thou Chainer of the Pi'oud ! Thou who canst bend Stijff-necked Rebellion in his fiercest hour — ! mighty Monarch ! dost Thou condescend To visit Man ; partake a Mortal's bower ? G-iver of all things ! Didst Thou share with Man His common wants ? Prince of the star-set heaven ! Didst Thou lie down in the grave's narrow span ? ! once again to us — condemned, forgiven — Return in glory, righteous Judge ! and grant Triumphant Palms to Thy Church Militant ! 102 SONNETS. "THY KINGDOM COME." 2. YE sleepers of the grave I in hope sleep well. Yoar bodies .shall awaken, ye Just ! Triumphant from the unforgotten dust, And with the Angelic Host which never fell, ^Martyrs, and good men perfected, shall dwell ! The glorious Kingdom is not full : the first Who went — all living — all who yet shall burst The gates of life, foreknown, the pomp shall swell Of that high Retinue. ]\Ian ! thine ear Even now the innumerable march can hear. Afar, of that great host. For this we dare With daily orisons, in life or death, To kneel. Whate'er the object of our faith, Hope still may be inspirer of our prayer. RELIGIOUS AND MORAL. 103 XXVI, THE Kingdom over all ; Powernncontrolled; Glory that makes all other lustre pale ; Are Thine — have ever been — shall never fail ! Therefore to Thee our suppliant hands we fold — Therefore our hearts, our lips, in faith, are bold — Therefore in Thee with grateful hymns we hail^ All-Seeing Justice, Truth that shall prevail. And Love which heaven's great compass cannot hold. All these for ever ! Time can never be When prayer avails not : the Almighty Will Through prayer alone its mercies can fulfil. Great need of mercy — -yea, great hope, have we ! In the old time before us we have heard His deeds — trust, now, the promise of His Word ! 104 SONNETS. XXYII. " AMEN ! " SO let it be ! — The prayer that Christ enjoins Live ever in our soul, and on our tongue ! So let it be ! — The ■worship He assigns Our great Creator, with thanksgiving song. From hearths, in temples, yea, wild woods among, Pour forth ! — So let it be ! — As drooping vines Drink the reviving shower, so sink along Our hearts His precepts ! Lo ! one word en- shrines Full attestation of our faith. " Amen " Includes the sum of our assent, and bears The seal of truth : it is the wing of jjrayers. Speeding the voice of millions, not in vain, To God's high throne, borne on seraphic airs. To ratify in heaven our glorious gain ! CBISWICC PBES.S :— FRINTEn nv 1THIm^'0RAM AJiD WILKIKS, TOUKS COl'lIT, CHAACEUY LAA'E. This book is DUE od the last date stamped below. riEi'^h DMlD/i fnM0i 1? f- i(.(i IOM-ll-50 Z955 470 rcminoton rand inc. 20 PR T)h9s UCLA-Young Research Library PR4541 .D49s 1875 L 009 513 886 3 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A A 001 421 477 THE LIBRARY JINIVERPr^y ^^ "ALIFORNI42 1 f\i^ A ri-jcx?! i.-'C ■^m .Tl