(i K'U ) I THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES R PYE8 8 ;l ' D> 9 A Til 1 ES, !'-...-.- <« f \ HOW. 3klia&5 fnr tjje €lmw r (NOW FIRST COLLECTED,) §mMm, 51 Blahrtr ^qritttriu", Mnims, £ $l;nu5fltti Turn, AND OTHER POEMS. MARTIN F. TUPPER, D.C.L. F.R.S. AUTHOR OP " PROVERBIAL PHILOSOPHY," " THE CHOCK OF GOLT>," " PROBABILITIES," ETC. ETC. 3 neto «?6l(ion, cnlargrii ana rcbisrt. LONDON : ARTHUR HALL, VIRTUE & CO. 25, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1851. WSI.O.N : K. CLAY, PJtISTEK, BREAE STRET.T HILL. Cnntrnts. (The Poems with a * hare been added since the last edition. J Page Ballads for the Times : — *The Anglo-Saxon Race . 1 *The Family Gathering . 2 ♦England's Welcome to the "World 3 *A Hymn for all Nations 5 6 ♦Canterbury Pilgrims . . 8 9 *The Canterbury Seal . . 10 ♦Britain to Columbia . . 10 *Dieu, et mon Droit . . 12 ♦TheGreat Exhibition,1851 13 *The Poet's Mission . . 15 *God bless the Queen . . 17 * The Moon and Moonshine 18 *" Nobody Feels or Cares !" 19 *The " Clameur de Ilaro." 20 *Mont Orgueil: Jersey 22 *Come as you are . . . 24 ♦Mont St. Michel . . . 2G ♦St. Helier's Hermitage, 27 •St. Paul's, of St. Helena . 28 ♦Peel 29 29 30 ♦President Taylor . . . 31 I'a^'e * Africa's Self-Blockade . . 31 ♦Rajah Brooke 32 *Low Spirits 33 "Fortitude 34 *" How much worse it might have been ! ". . . 35 *A Night-sail in the Race of Alderney 35 ♦The Manchester Athen- aeum 37 Genius and Friends ... 33 "The Kingston Coronation Stone 39 *A Stave of Sympathy . . 10 ♦Encouragement 41 *A Missionary Ballad. . . 42 *The Laurel Crown ... 43 Home 45 Rich and Poor 47 The Sabbath 50 " The Lamp upon the Railway Engine." ... 53 Labour 54 The New Home .... 57 Calumny CI Mercy to Animals ... 62 *The Dog's Petition . . . 65 " England's Heart!" . . G(i 764369 IV Contents. Page My Own Place . . . G8 " What is a Poet?" . . 70 Envy 72 Welcome : 73 Balm 74 Selfishness 76 Self- Possession .... 77 Slander 78 The Golden Mean ... 80 Time 81 "Godpreserve the Queen!" 82 A Ballad for the Prince Alfred 84 A National Anthem for Liberia in Africa . . 85 *The Liberian Beacon . . 86 *The Liberian Church . . SS Courage! 88 A National Prayer against the Cholera 89 A Hymn and a Chant . . 91 Harvest Hymn for 1S49 . 95 *A Harvest Hymn for 1850 97 * Hop-Picking 98 A Short Reply .... 98 Charity 99 The Man about Town . 100 A Prayer for the Land . 102 Praise! 105 ' 'Liberty — Equality — Fra- ternity ! " 107 Martin Luther . . . . 113 King Veric 114 Soho! US Revisiting Charterhouse . 119 The Sisters 120 Energy 122 " Non Angli sed Angeli." 126 * Country Life 12S Page *To the Union 131 Fons Parnassi 134 St. Martha's 136 Appeal, 1840 140 Rebuilt, 1849 117 *Reconsecrated May 15, 1850 147 *Sonnet, for St. Ann's, Alder- ney 148 A Consecration 149 A Thousand Lines, &c : — Sloth ........ 150 Activity 151 Adventure 152 The Song of Sixteen . . 154 Forty 155 The Song of Seventy . . 157 Nature's Nobleman . . . 159 Never give up! .... 160 The Sun 161 The Moon 161 The Stars 162 Our Kingdom 162 Forgive and Forget . . . 163 " My Mind to me a King- dom is." 165 Tarring Church. 1844 . . 175 The same 176 The same Place and Day . 1 76 Sonnet, on a Birth . . . 177 Duty 177 Counsel 178 Home 178 Byegones 17!) Rule, Britannia ! . . . . ISO The Emigrant Ship . . . 182 The Assurance of Horace . 1S3 The Assurance of Ovid . 185 Post-Letters 185 Contents. Page A Thousand Lines &c : — Advice 188 Thanks 188 Apology to all 1 89 Society 189 Original Prologue . . . 190 Epilogue 190 Hactenus, &c : — The New Year .... 191 All's for the best ! ... 192 The Riddle read .... 193 Old Haunts 195 The Battle of Roleia . . 196 Retrospect 199 Peace and Quietness . . 201 The Early Gallop ... 202 Ascot: June 3, 1847. . . 203 Life 203 Waterloo 204 " Are you a great Reader?" 212 The Verdict 212 Guernsey 213 All's Right 213 The Complaint of an An- cient Briton 214 Farley Heath 210 Wisdom 219 The Heart's Husband . . 219 Prophets 220 Wheat-corn and Chaff . . 221 The true Epicure .... 221 The Happy Man .... 222 Heraldic 223 Threnos 224 The Dead 22G To America 229 The Thanks of Parliament to Wellington and his Army 231 Page Hactenus, &c. : — To Laura 233 Pain 234 The Toothache .... 234 No Surrender ! .... 233 Never mind ! 236 The Cromlech du Tus, Guernsey 237 My Children.— 1845 . . . 239 A Debt of Love.— -1838 . . 241 To little Ellin.— 1837 . . 242 On the Birth of little Mary, —1838 242 Margaret.— 1840 .... 243 To little Selwyn.— 1842 . 243 On little William.— 1S44 . 244 Henry de B. T.— 1S47 . . 244 The Seventh : Walter F. T. — 184S 245 Errata,anauthor'scomplaint 245 Venus 246 " The warm young Heart." 247 To Cidli, asleep . . . . 24S Alfred ....... 249 The Order of Alfred.— 1849 252 The Day of a Thousand Years ! :">7 •The Alfred Medals . . . 258 *Socrates to Lysias . . . 259 The Memorial Window . 2C0 A Call to poor Sempstresses 203 A Call to the Rich ... 264 Our Thanksgiving Hymn . 265 Acceptable Thanks ! . . 266 To a young Poet .... 267 Confession 268 To the Poet of Memory . L'u8 A Song 2(i'J VI Contents. Pag« r-aje Hactenus, &c. : — Sonnets: — 269 Evelyn — Milton . . . 303 270 Izaak Walton — Isaac N ew- 271 271 Fenelon — Czar Peter . 305 Horace's Philosophy . . 272 Handel — Wesley . . . 316 " The last Time." . . . 273 Linnaeus — Johnson . . 307 . 275 Galvani — Washington . 308 Howard — Klopstock . 309 Sonnets to Seventy of the Nelson— Felix Neff . . 310 Great and Good : — 311 Abel . 275 Enoch — Zoroaster . . . 276 Some Early Poems : — Abraham — Semiramis . 277 . 343 Joseph — Moses . . . 278 The Song of an Alpine Elf S48 David— Solomon . . . 279 . 350 Homer — Isaiah . . . 280 Infant Christ, with Flow ers 351 Past, Present, and Future 353 Sappho — Pythagoras . . 282 A Short Gospel . . . 353 Confucius — Pindar . . 283 On a Bulbous Root . . 354 Aristides — JEschylus . 284 Cruelty Herodotus — Hippocrate s . 285 Monsieur d'Alveron . 362 Thucydides — Socrates . 286 Wisdom's Wish . . . . 364 Plato — Demosthenes . 2S7 The Mother's Lament . . 363 Aristotle — Phocion . . 288 Trust . 36S Phidias — Epicurus . . 289 The Stammerer's Com- Marcellus — Hipparchus . 290 Cornelia — Virgil . . . . 291 . 373 Horace — Mary the Virg in . 292 A Cabinet of Fossils . . . 376 The Topstone — St. John . 293 . 379 St. Paul — Zenobia . . . 294 The Mourner Comforted . 3S5 Colomba— Bede . . . . 295 The Souls of Brutes . . . 3S8 Charlemagne — Haroon Al- The Chamois Hunter . . 394 Alfred — Dante . . . . 297 Contrasted Sonnets:— Tell— Petrarch . . . . 298 Cheerfulness — Malice . . 398 Columbus — Ratfaelle . 299 . 399 Bayard — Luther . . . . 300 The Happy Home— The Jane Grey — Shakspeare . 301 Wretched Home . . . 400 Cervantes — Harvey . . . 302 J Theory — Practice . . . 401 Contents. Vll Page Contrasted Sonnets : — Riches— Poverty .... 402 Light— Darkness .... 403 Poetry — Prose 404 Friendship, constrained — Enmity, compelled . . 405 Philanthropic — Misanthro- pic 406 Country— Town .... 407 Worldly and Wealthy — Wise and Worthy . . . 408 Liberality — Meanness . . 409 Ancient — Modern . . . 410 Spirit— Matter .... 411 Life— Death 412 Ellen Gray 413 Charity 418 To my Book, " Proverbial Philosophy " 420 To the same 421 Wedding Gifts 422 Children 422 The Kaleidoscope .... 424 A Greenhouse 425 Fly-fishing 425 The Trophy 426 A Rise 426 The Queen's Birthday . . . 427 Reserve 428 Home 428 The Wife 429 Infant Daughters .... 430 A Glimpse of Paradise . . 430 Page To the Sovereign .... 431 The Coronation 431 The Abbey 432 Union 432 Days gone by 433 The Crisis 434 Lament.— 1837 435 ♦Down with Foreign Priest- craft.-lSJl 435 Phantasia 437 The same, personified . . . 437 Solitude 438 Consolation 43s Summer 439 Winter 439 Letters 440 The Cathedral Mind ... 440 Politics in 1839 441 To a Premier 411 Protesting Truth .... 412 The unholy Alliance . . . 442 Expediency.— 1839 .... 413 Good Shepherds 443 Six American Ballads : — I. — To Brother Jonathan 441 II.— "Ye Thirty noble Na- tions " 448 III. — John's Rejoinder . 453 IV.— The " International" 458 V.— A Staveforthe South 4C1 VI.—" Yet once again " . 465 Gratitude 469 Thus far 470 Some few Poems, as " The Suttees," " The African Desert," " The Coronation Ode," $>c. fyc, hare been omitted from this Edition. Mirntimt. TO ALL FRIENDS. A book of many thoughts in mingled measures ; Songs of my Heart, attuned through many a year From time to time a silent hour to cheer ; Unguarded tell-tales of mine inner pleasures, High hopes, and joys most deep, and loves most dear ; What welcome shall toe find? — Neglect? — -Reproof? A sullen pride that coldly holds aloof? No, Friends ! not such will be my welcome here : From heart to heart I speak, from love to love, With kindly words that kindliness inspire, Frankly, confidingly ; no fear, no fear, But love shall be your greeting to my lyre ; For, through the mercies lent me from above, I warm your hearts, Friends ! with holy fire. Skllaita fur flje €m%, &C. <&& C'ljt 5lngln-ln.rnn Ilnrr. A Rhyme fob Englishmen. ^trttdj forth ! stretch forth ! from the south to the north, From the east to the west, — stretch forth ! stretch forth ! Strengthen thy stakes, and lengthen thy cords, — The world is a tent for the world's true lords ! Break forth and spread over every place, The world is a world for the Saxon Race ! England sowed the glorious seed, In her wise old laws, and her pure old creed, And her stout old heart, and her plain old tongue, And her resolute energies, ever young, And her free bold hand, and her frank fair face, And her faith in the rule of the Saxon Race ! 2 €\)t ^nslo^avon l&ace. Eeebly dwindling day by day, All other races are fading away ; The sensual South, and the servile East, And the tottering throne of the treacherous priest, And every land is in evil case But the wide-scatter'd realm of the Saxon Race ! Englishmen everywhere ! brethren all ! By one great name on your millions I call, — Norman, American, Gael, and Celt, Into this fine mixed mass ye melt, And all the best of your best I trace In the golden brass of the Saxon Race ! » v Englishmen everywhere ! faithful and free ! Lords of the land, and kings of the sea, — Anglo- Saxons ! honest and true, By hundreds of millions my word is to you, — Love one another ! as brothers embrace ! That the World may be blest in the Saxon Race ! €ty /nraih[ intjiOTg. ]851. A Stave of Invitation. dfov happiness, unity, plenty, and peace, And brotherhood over the world, Eor loves to increase, and dissensions to cease, And war's bloody flag to be furl'd, Clje dfamilu tfiatljm'ncj. Come, gather together with hearty good will, In the warmth of a generous mind, And bring us the best of your strength and your skill, To bless and to better mankind ! Let quicken'd invention its secret impart The body to succour in need ; Let taste and high breeding, and delicate art, The mind with their melodies feed ; Let just emulation and genius be glad To join in the liberal strife Which seals to the world all the wealth that it had, And adds to the blessings of life. 'o^ So, gather together ! your leader and Prince, With many a true man beside, Has set up this standard the world to convince That commerce and love are allied : For Man, of all nations and kindreds, is one, And heartily well is it worth, Thus kindly to cause in the sight of the sun A Family Meeting of Earth ! dJiigluuu's Wtlnmt tu tjjB Wnxlt A "Ballad fob 1861. 91 Woict of happy greeting to the Nations of the World ! A Flag of peace for every shore, on every sea, unfurl'd ! A Word of brotherhood and love to each who hears the call, — V Welcome to the World of Men, a Welcome, one and all! 4 ensIanU'* Wfokomt to tljc Mori*. children of a common stock, O brothers all around, In kindliness and sympathy receive the joyful sound ; Old England bids you welcome all, and wins you to her shore, To see how men of every clime may help each other more. Old England greets you lovingly, as friend should greet a friend, And only prays that peaceful days may never have an end ; And only hopes, by doing good, the good of all to gain, And so Goodwill from brethren still, right gladly to attain ! Come on then to this Tournament, of Peace, and skilful Art, Come on, fair Europe's chivalry, and play the Bayard's part ! Eor honour, Austria, spur away ! for honour, gentle France ! For honour, Buss, and Swede, and Turk,— come on with levell'd lance ! Come on amain, high-hearted Spain ! industrious Holland, come ! Italy, Persia, Greece, and Ind, — fill up the Nations' sum ! And chiefly with us, heart to heart, come on, and tilt for fame, Columbia, — thou that England art in everything but name ! Not, as long since, for deeds of death, — but deeds to gladden life ; Provoking each for others' good to join the generous strife ! As in those games at Pytho, or in old Nemsea's grove, Where Grsecia's best and worthiest for honour only strove. Come, wrestle thus in peace with us, and vie for glory's prize, Bring out your wares of rarest work, and wealthiest merchandise ; Let every Craft of every clime produce its brilliant best, The dazzling zone of Venus, and Minerva's starry crest ! encjIanVs' EEIcIronu to tfjc movlti. 5 Let Science add the miracles that human reason works When tracking out the Mind of God that in all Nature lurks, — The Wonderful, that He hath made Beneficent to man, And gives us wit to fathom it, and use it as we can ! O there are secrets choice and strange, that men have not found out, Though up and down the earth we range, and forage round about, The hidden things of Mercy's heart, the Beautiful-Sublime, That God hath meant to cheer us on adown the stream of Time : Adown the stream of Time, until — we reach that happier shore, Where sin and pain come not again, and grief is grief no more ; Tor that, O nations, wisely strive to do all good you can, And, gratefully as unto God, live brotherly with Man ! I Itprot fur nil JMnm POIA'GLOTTED 1851. (JMoriouS God ! on Thee we call, Father, 1'riend, and Judge of all ; Holy Saviour, heavenly King, Homage to Thy throne we bring ! In the wonders all around Ever is Thy Spirit found, And of each good thing we see All the good is born of Thee ! & ftumn for all Rations, Thine the beauteous skill that lurks Everywhere ia Nature's works ; Thine is Art, with all its worth, Thine each masterpiece on earth ! Yea, and foremost in the van Springs from Thee the Mind of Man ; On its light, for this is thine, Shed abroad the love divine ! Lo, our God ! Thy children here from all realms are gather'd near, Wisely gather'd, — gathering still — For peace on earth, towards men good-will ! May we, with fraternal mind, Bless our brothers of mankind ; May we, through redeeming love, Be the blest of God above ! %m %n\A A Song for the Antipodes. Oumt of the South ! which the mighty Pacific Claims for its Britain in ages to be, Bright with fair visions and hopes beatific, Glorious and happy thy future I see ! Thither the children of England are thronging, There for true riches securely to search ; Not for thy gold, California, longing, But for sweet home, with enough, and a Church ! $cfo Zcalnnti. There, a soft clime and a soil ever teeming, Summer's December, and Winter's July, The bright Southern Cross in the firmament gleaming, The Dove, and the Crown, and the Altar on high, — There, the broad prairies with forest and river, There, the safe harbours are bidding men search For Thy best blessings, Heaveuly Giver ! Home, with enough, and an Englishman's Church! Yes ; for Britannia, the Mother of Nations, Sends out her children, as teeming old Greece, Good men and great men, to stand in their stations, Merchants of plenty, and heralds of peace : Stout Anglo-Saxons ! Port Victory calls you ; Take the glad omen, and speedily search Where you shall gather, whatever befals you, Truest of treasures, a Home and a Church ! fifty years hence — look forward and see it, llealm of New Zealand, what then shalt thou see? (If the world lives, at The Father's So be it,) All shall be greatness and glory with thee ! Even should Britain's decay be down-written In the dread doom-book that no man may search, Still shall an Oxford, a Loudon, a Britain, Gladden the South with a Home and a Church ! 8 £iitttrrlmri| pilgrims. A " God Speed." ?l?eat)cn speed you, noble band ! Link'd togetlier, heart and baud, Sworn to seek that far-off land, Canterbury pilgrims,- Heaven speed you ! brothers brave, Waft you well by wind and wave ; Heaven shield you ! Heaven save ! Canterbury pilgrims. Like a Queen of swarming bees, England, hived amid the seas, Sends you by a favouring breeze, Canterbury pilgrims, With a mother's tender care, To her Southern sister there, Her young sister, fresh and fair, Canterbury pilgrims ! Fresh the soil, and fair the clime, Lightly touch'd by toil or time, Scarcely tinged with care or crime, Canterbury pilgrims,- Go then, cheerfully go forth ! Hasten to replenish earth "With Old England's honest worth, Canterbury pilgrims ! Cantcrbun) $£ilgnmg. Aye — with industry — for gold, Godliness — for wealth untold, Go, in Christian duty bold, Canterbury pilgrims, - Glad New Zealand bids you share Each man plenty, and to spare, — God be with you then aud there, Canterbury pilgrims ! fmnut By way or Postscript. <©0 forth, in faith and patience, hope and love! But think not, voyagers, to leave behind Ills of the flesh or passions of the mind, Nor to anticipate the bliss above In this new home : for evil must be there, Evil, that sails alike on every wind, In spite of all your caution, all your care : Then be ye tolerant ; let no stern soul, However right his ethics or his life, Over the weaker brothers claim control, Stirring the flock to bitterness of strife : Houour man's conscience ; from all shackles loose The honest mind with freedom's instinct rife : Take the Church with you, but no church-abuse. 10 €\t toferkrtj Intl. An Illustration. Crtplf blessings on the plough, Triple blessings on the fleece ! Heaven's Angel send you now To be fruitful and increase : " So your country shall remain," And all happiness be pour'd Upon Canterbury plain, From the Lord ! Triple blessings on the fleece, Triple blessings on the plough ! For beneath the Cross of Peace All your toil is hallow' d now : "While the Church, in sacred robe, Is your help on either hand, As the pillars of the globe Ye shall stand ! $ritfliit f tn Cnlnniiiiii. A Message of Peace. J?t£stcr Empress, daughter dear, Throned on yonder hemisphere, With a grand career to run Glorious as thy western sun, Sister, Daughter — we are one ! JJrttatn to Columbia. H One, in stories of the past, One, in glories, still to last, One in speech, and one in face, One in honest pride of race, One in faith, and hope, and grace ! Sister, we have sinn'd of old, Both of us, through lust of gold ; We, for centuries, you, for years, Undismay'd by judgment fears, Throve on — human woes and tears ! Verily, our brothers' blood Whelm'd us in its crimson flood ! Yet, at last we turn'd, and gave, As a ransom from the grave, Koyal freedom to the slave ! Britain's penitential zeal Let it work Columbia's weal ; AVisely hasten, as thou wilt, Soon to wash away this guilt — Man in chains, and life-blood spilt ! "We are mute, — we may not chide ; Only pray thee, put aside That which must be baue to thee, If, as Christian, Strong, and Free, Thou endure it still to be. Yet, in frankness, we confess We made too much haste to bless ; Not at ouce, be well assured, But with gradual health allured, Can this chronic plague be cured. 12 Britain to Columbia. Through the wisdom of to-day "We have learnt a better way ; Sister, — it is thine own plan ! Take the poor degraded man, Teach him kindly all you cau, — Then, with liberal hand restore To his own Liberian shore This poor son of wrong and night, Newly blest with hope and light, And the patriot freeman's Right ! So shall Africa blockade Bloodlessly that dreadful trade : And Liberia's " open door," School, and Church, and merchant-store, Bless her children evermore. I, rt inntt A Loyal Text. f2o fanciful hope, and no cowardly fear Shall ever be lord of my breast, An Englishman gathers his comfort and cheer Prom Duty by Providence blest ; The good royal motto, from Normandy won, Upholds him by day and by night, Adversity's moon, and prosperity's sun, Are shining iu " God and my Eight ! " My God ! the great guard, the good ruler, and friend, Who made me, and guides as He will ; My Eight ! which His government helps to defend, And bids me stand up for it still : J3icu, ct nton Qroit. 13 Tlie heart that has trusted Him well does He love, And fills it with heavenly light, Eejoiced upon earth with all peace from above, Aud resting on " God and my Eight ! " My Right — the right way, and my Eight — the right arm, And my Eight — the true rights of the case, — Strong, honest, deserving, the triple-tied charm That keeps a man firm in his place ; With these well about us, and God overhead, We fear not whatever we fight, There never was mortal who fail'd or who fieri, Whose motto was, " God and mv Ei. So, years flew on ; by scores they past, And kings and kingdoms perish'd fast ; Till a fair Queen, in happier days, Bless'd all her realm with peaceful praise, And gilt, with Her benignant smile, Her royal castle, Mont Orgueil ! 0, God be thank'd, for quiet hours, When nought is known of feudal towers, But the fair picture that they fill, With sea, and sky, and wooded hill ! 0, God be thank'd for times like these, Of brother's love, and grateful ease, When war no fiercer sight affords Than ivied forts, and rusty swords ! A Rhyme eok Ragged Schooi^. ( Widely circulated.) Come to the school that your friends are preparing, Poor little brothers, come over to us ! Just as you stand, in the clothes you are wearing, Though they be ragged and scanty as thus ; Come from the alley, the lane, and the passage, Come in your rags, — but as clean as you can ; We have a mission to each, and a message, Happy and.true, of his rights as a Man. Come ag j)Oti arc. 25 Don't be downhearted, if fools for an hour Laugh at your schooling and treat it with scorn ; Answer them truly, that " Knowledge is Power," And that a blockhead were better unborn ; Laugh as they may, your laugh will be longest, Your's is for ever, their's but for once ; Soon shall they own you both wisest and strongest ; Scholars must govern the fool aud the dunce ! Yes, my boys, come ! without fear or suspicion, All that we wish is your gain and your good : Body and soul to improve your condition, And we would better it more if we could ; But where we cannot, yourselves may be able, Willingly coming to hear and to learn, How, for the soul to be happy and stable, Aud, for the body, your living to earn ! So then come over, young scholars, and listen, Helping yourselves, as in honour you ought ! We'll tell you things that '11 make your eyes glisten, Brighten the spirit, aud heighten the thought : Come then, and welcome, in rags and in tatters, Anyhow come, — but as clean as you can ; Come and learn gladly these glorious matters, All the best rights in the duties of Man ! 26 2tot It.BtkljrL A Condolence on the Spot. £Ua3 ! for thy pollutions, wondrous pile, Rare pyramid of Nature and high Art, Desecrate, and befoul' d in every part By all that moderns add of mean and vile : Woe, for thine ancient glories gone to waste ! These sculptured cloisters, and that lofty aisle, This arch'd chivalric hall of sumptuous taste, Those Norman turrets — (whose unconquer'd strength Enclose the steep old town of gables strange) — After a thousand years, all, all at length Given up to filth and felons ! — gaol-birds range Where erst devoted maids and holy men Peal'd their full anthem : — the bitter change, Heaven's gorgeous house become corruption's den ! Thou sad Romance in stone among the seas, — Monstrous Chimsera, saint and fiend in one, Where the Archangel, soaring to the sun, Eeels the brute serpent coil'd about his knees ; pinnacles, and flying buttresses Rear'd on a festering heap of foul and base ; O hallow'd Pharos, rank with oily lees ; censer, spoil'cl of all thy fragrant grace, — Alas ! how fair, how fearful is this place ! Round it, the garden of Hesperides Once bloom'd, — with that " old dragon " for a guard The stone Kimmerian windings of Carnac ; But now, the light that since blazed heavenward Is quench'd, — and all again is utter black ! 27 A Vindication. Slnrfjcritr, whose rugged nest, Swept by wind and wash'd by wave, Percli'd on yonder rocky crest Was tliy dwelling, and thy grave, — Should I mock thee, holy man ? Should I not revere thy name ? Nor do honour, if I can, To St. Helier s martyr-fame ? Come, ye scoffers, and behold ! Here is the luxurious bed Where your pamper' d monk of old Nightly laid his aged head : In this cave he wept, and pray'd, — Till the Northman pirate came, And achieved with bloody blade Our poor hermit's martyr-fame ! True, — in venial error still His devotion stood aloof From the world and all its ill, Under this low vaulted roof; Yet, he wrestled in his cell For high heav'n his soul to frame, — O ye worldlings, it were well Could ye win such martyr-fame ! 28 It. $wd't, nf it. lite. An Appeal, written by request. Beautiful Isle ! where the Exile of Glory Sank to his rest, like the sun in the sea, — Fair St. Helena, — his fate and his story Are not the best that we boast of in thee ; No ! nor is even the bloom of thy beauty Finest and first in the glen or the height, But — where thy children in love and in duty Earnestly worship The Father aright ! Lo now ! this fruit of their pious devotion Grows, like a cedar on Lebanon's side ; Slowly, " St. Paul's," the Church of the Ocean, Rises to brighten Atlantic's dark tide ! Thither, shall soon be gladly repairing Sons of the stranger, with sons of the soil, — Thither, poor Africa's children, preparing Thanks for their freedom from tyrannous toil. Soon? but how soon?— Right heartily speed it, Ye that fear God, and are loving to man ! Haste with your aid, — they ask it, and need it ; Help the good work with the best that you can : What St. Helena is nobly beginning Stand by her, England ! to finish it all, And, by the souls that your zeal will be winning, Crown with its topstone The Church of St. Paul ! 29 Struck down at noon amid the startled throng, An eagle shot while soaring to the suu ; A wounded gladiator dying strong As loth to leave the glories he had won ; A life-long patriot, with his work half done, — Of thee, great Statesman, shall my mourning song Arise in due solemnity ! — of thee, Whom the wide world, so lately and so long Thine acolyte, would crowd to hear and see Their intellectual Athlete, their high name For eloquence and prudence, gifts and powers : But lo ! that starry mind, a heavenly flame, Is well enfranchised from this earth of ours, Translated in the zenith of its fame ! Cuiiiliriu"gr. !3notI)Cv of thy chiefs, O Israel, Gone to a good man's rest, and high reward, As full of years as honours ; it is well Thus timely to he call'd to meet the Lord ! O death,— how oft Britannia tolls the knell For those she loves, a mother for her sons ! Yet is it seldom that her tongue can tell More truly how she mourns her mighty ones, Than now in honest sorrow (ills her breast ; For he was worthy ; full of kindliness, A man of peace, and charity, and truth ; For ever doing good, and feeling blest (Though nurtur'd as a warrior from his youth) In finding what a joy it is to bless ! 30 IDtartaartlj. Wt will not sorrow for the glorious dead, — Death is The Life to glory's hallow'd sons ! Above this body, in its prison-bed, Soar the free spirits of those blessed ones, Waiting in hope, on heavenly manna fed : To such rich feast in beauteous raiment led,' Why should we wail for him, as those who wept Some Lycidas or Bion of old time, Mourning as dead the soul that only slept ? No ! rather, let the paean rise sublime For nature's poet-priest from nature's voice, — Let sea and sky be glad, and field, and fen, And pastoral vale, and thunder-riven glen, And dewy Rydal in her bard rejoice ' ,1 Eor there, by hill and dale, in sun or shade, He " communed with the universe " in love ; " The deep foundations of his mind " were laid, Sphered in their midst, on all around, above : He read God's heart in all His hand hath made : Then, in the majesty of simple truth, To man's dim mind he show'd the mind of God Lustrous and lovely, " full of pity and ruth," Tor high and low, the sunbeam— and the sod ! So did he teach in age, as erst in youth, — To turn away from passion's lurid light, And yearn on purer things of lowlier birth, Pure because lowly,— which, in God's own sight, As in his servants', are the pearls of earth. 31 ^rafitttti €ni}lnr. " $fr am prepared to die ; for I have tried To do my Duty !" — Was it Nelson's twin Who spake so like an hero when he died, A Christian hero, with forgiven sin ? Yes ! — it is one, Columbia's honest pride (And mother England's joy, — we claim him too,) Who now is gone far other spoils to win Than late of Palo- Alto, — higher meed, Trophies of nobler fame, and praise more true, Than those a grateful country well decreed To her Best Son ; her best and bravest son, Rough for the fight, but Ready heart and hand To make it up again with victory won, In war — and peace — the Glory of his Land ! Slfrint's |rlf-36lnrkitk H?t$tcr, we are not slow to learn of thee How best to compass good ; how best to pour Freedom and health, as on Liberia's shore, Along the skirt of Afric's Western sea ; Sister Columbia, wiser than of yore We love in all things generous to agree ! And, well content if blessing so may be To the poor darkling slave, a slave no more, Frankly we haste to fringe the sea-board thus With homes and fields of freemen : glad to win Around the standards reared by thee and us, Body and soul, the rescued sons of sin From both worlds' doom of wrctchedest and worst, Through us no more benighted nor accurst ! 32 ll(ija|j %m\u. 0ob\t heart, of purpose high, Hasten on thy great career, Heedless of the coward cry Slander shouts in Envy's ear ; Even now the falsehoods die, Half for shame and half for fear ; Even now the clouds go by, And thy heaven again is clear ! Let them whisper what they can, Lightly scoff, or loudly blame ; Still, O glorious friend of Man, Such mean censure speeds thy fame ; Good men bless, where bad men ban ; Ever was it seen the same, That the leader of the van Won his way through foes and flame ! Raj ah ! throned on Indian seas, Thou art there to bless Mankind, Sent to sow by every breeze Seeds of good for heart and mind, Carrying out God's great decrees To the Saxon race assign' d, Which the Eight all stoutly frees, But is stern the Wrong to bind ! 33 Tfltti Ijririis. St is not Time, — I joy to see My children growing up ; It is not Sin, — remorse for me Holds out no bitter cup ; Nor dotli Mammon's dreary din Add its gloom to Time or Sin. It is not that the Past was sweet, — Many griefs were there ; It is not that the Future's feet Are shrouded up in care ; Providence is wise and kind, And I am strong for heart and rniud. Why then be sad ? why thus, my heart, Disquieted within ? Great is the mercy that thou art Unseared by care and sin ; That Time to thee has small alloy, And memory's thoughts are thoughts of joy. "Why then so sad ? — My friends of old Are dead and gone, or changed ; The poor dear nest of home is cold, And each old haunt estranged; So that I walk a stranger there, With none to feel for how I fare ! D 34 Hoii) J^pmtiJ. True, — many new found friends may throng, And make a passing show ; But ever as they stream along Like dreams they come and go, — And, — however kind they be, They bring not back the Past to me ! /ortitok New Words to the tine Tune, "Mynheer van Dunk." {HtHC own stout heart ! You and I must never part, But bravely get on together, — Through calm and strife, And the ups and downs of- life, In winter, or summer weather ! Singing, ! for a true bold heart shall be Ever found in its warm old place with me, Cheerful evermore, and frank, and free, Though the Mountains be drown'd in the rolling Sea ! Troubles, well seasou'd, as being well sent, No honest man dreams of scorning ; But he mixes them up in his cup of content, And fears no foes "While he happily knows That Night must end in Morning ! Por a brave glad heart shall always be Beating in its own warm nest with me, Cheerful evermore, and frank, and free, Though the Mountains be drown'd in the rolling Sea! 35 " I3nm mtttd tunrsc it migjjt jjnnt lirm V A Text tor the Discontented. f£?onc3t fellow, sore beset, Vext by troubles quick and keen, Thankfully consider yet " How muck worse it might have been '. " Worthily thy faults deserve More than all thine eyes have seen, Think thou then with sterner nerve, " How much worse it might have been !" Though the night be dark and long, Morning soon shall break serene, And the burden of thy song, " How much worse it might have been ! " God, the Good One, calls to us On His Providence to lean, Shout then out devoutly thus, " How much worse it might have been!" 51 JKgfci-fflttl in tlje %m nf %Mm% Sept. 6, 1850. Jr'prinWcti thick with shining studs, Stretches wide the tent of heaven, Blue, begemm'd with golden buds, — Calm, and bright, and deep, and clear, Glory's hollow hemisphere 36 % ^tgljt'gml m ti)t Iftaec of Sntocrneu. Arcli'd above these frothing floods, Eight and left asunder riven, As our cutter madly scuds, By the fitful breezes driven, When exultingly she sweeps Like a dolphin through the deeps, And from wave to wave she leaps, Rolling in this yeasty leaven, — Ragingly that never sleeps, Like the wicked unforgiven ! Midnight, soft and fair above, Midnight, fierce and dark beneath, — All on high the smile of love, All below the frown of death : Waves that whirl in angry spite With a phosphorescent light Gleaming ghastly on the night, — Like the pallid sneer of Doom, So malicious, cold, and white, Luring to this watery tomb, Where in fury and in fright Winds and waves together fight Hideously amid the gloom, — As our cutter gladly scuds, Dipping deep her sheeted boom Madly to the boiling sea, Lighted in these furious floods By that blaze of brilliant studs, Glistening down like glory-buds On the Race of Alderney ! 37 51 Unliurried for ouce, well shaven and clean, With babes and the mother at meals, I gather what home and its happiness mean, And feel as a gentleman feels : Then drest in my best I go blithely to church, And meet my old mates on the way, To gossip awhile in the ivy'd old porch, And hear all the news of the day. And soon as the chimes of the merry bells cease, — O rare is the bell-ringers' din ! — We calmly compose us to prayer and to peace, As Jabez is tolling us in : And then in the place where my fathers have pray'd, I praise and I pray at my best, And smile as their child when I hope to be laid In the same bit of turf where they rest ! For wisely his lleverence tells of the dead As living, and waiting indeed A bright Resurrection, — 'twas happily said, — From earth and its misery freed ! And then do I know that though poor I am rich, An heir of great glories above, Till it seems like a throne, — my old seat in the niche Of the wall of the church that I love ! So, praise the Good Lokd for his sabbaths, I say, So kindly reserved for the poor ; The wealthy can rest and be taught any day, But we have but one and no more ! 52 €i)t gabbatij. Aye, — what were the labouring man without these His sabbaths of body and mind ? A workweary wretch without respite or ease, The curse and reproach of his kind ! And don't you be telling me, sages of trade, The seventh's a loss in my gain ; I pretty well guess of what stuff you are made, And know what you mean in the main : You mete out the work, and the wages you fix, And care for the make, not the men ; For seven you'd pay us the same as for six, And who would be day-winners then ? No, no, my shrewd masters, thank God that His law- The Sabbath — is law of the land ; Thank God that His wisdom so truly foresaw What mercy so lovingly plann'd : My babes go to school ; and my Bible is read ; And I walk in my holiday dress ; And I get better fed ; and my bones lie abed, — And my wages are nothing the less. Then Praises to God,— and all health to the Queen, - And thanks for the Sabbath, say I ! It is, as it shall be, and ever has been, The earthgrubber's glimpse at the sky ; The Sabbath is ours, my mates of the field, — A holyday once in the seven ; The Sabbath to Mammon Ave never will yield-, It is Poverty's foretaste of Heaven ! 53 4 (H'l/B Xnniji upon tjjt Entlnint| dFnginr/ 7 A Ballad of Composure. H?l)tmnCJ in its silver cell, Like a Hermit calm and quiet, — Though so near it, hot as hell, Furious fires rave and riot, — Posted as an eye in front, 'Mid the smoke and steam and singeing, Steadily bears all the brunt, The Lamp upon the railway engine. So, thou traveller of life, In the battle round thee crashing Heed no more the stormy strife Than a rock the billows dashing : Through this dark and dreary night, Vexing fears, and cares unhingcing, Shine, O Mind, aloft, alight, The Lamp upon the railway engine. By the oil of Grace well fed, Ever on the Future gazing, Let the star within thy head Steadily and calmly blazing Hold upon its duteous way Through each ordeal unflinching, Trimm'd to burn till dawn of Day, The Lamp upon the railway engine. •34 %\)t Hantp upon the 2ftatlfoaj) Gngtne. Safe behind a crystal shield, Though the outer deluge drench us, Faith forbids a soul to yield, And no hurricane can quench us : No ! though forced along by fate At a pace so swift and swingeing, Calmly shine in silver state, Ye Lamps on every railway engine. jCnlinitr ! A Ballad por our Mines and Manufactories. jFatV work for fair wages ! — it's all that we ask, An Englishman loves what is fair, — "We'll never complain of the toil or the task, If livelihood comes with the care ; Fair work for fair wages ! — we hope nothing else Of the mill, or the forge, or the soil, For the rich man who buys, and the poor man who sells, Must pay and be paid for his toil ! Fair work for fair wages ! — we know that the claim Is just between master and man ; If the tables were tum'd we would serve him the same, And promise we will when we can ! AYe give to him industry, muscle, and thew, And heartily work for his wealth ; So he will as honestly give what is due, Fair wages for labour in health ! Habout ! 55 Enough for the day, and a bit to put by Against illness, and slackness, and age ; Eor chancre and misfortune are ever too nio;h Alike to the fool and the sage ; But the fool in his harvest will wanton and waste, Forgetting the winter once more, While true British wisdom will timely make haste And save for the " basket and store !" Aye ; wantonness freezes to waut, be assured, And drinking makes nothing to eat, And penury's wasting by waste is secured, And luxury starves in the street ! And many a father with little ones pale, So rack'd by his cares and his pains, Might now be all right if, when hearty and hale, He never had squander'd his gains ! We know that prosperity's glittering sun Can shine but a little, and then The harvest is over, the summer is done, Alike for the master and men : If the factory ship with its Captain on board Must beat in adversity's waves, One lot is for all ! for the great cotton lord And the poorest of Commerce's slaves ; One lot ! if extravagance reign' d in the home, Then poverty's wormwood and gall ; If rational foresight of evils to come, A cheerful complacence in all : 5Q Harjour ! Tor sweet, is the morsel that diligence eani'd, And sweeter, that prudence put by ; And lessons of peace in affliction are 1 eani'd, And wisdom that comes from on high ! For God, in His providence ruling above, And piloting all things below, Is ever unchangeable justice and love, In ordering welfare or woe : He blesses the prudent for heaven and earth, And gladdens the good at all times, — But frowns on the sinner, and darkens his mirth, And lashes his follies and crimes ! Alas ! for the babes, and the poor pallid wife HurPd down with the sot to despair, — Yet, — God shall reward in a happier life Their punishment, patience, and pray'r ! But woe to the caitiff, who, starved by his drinks, AVas starving his children as well, — Man, break away from the treacherous links Of a chain that will drag you to Hell I Come along, come along, man ! it's never too late, Though drowning, we throw you a rope ! Be quick and be quit of so fearful a fate, Bor while there is life there is hope ! So wisely come with us, and work like the rest, And save of your pay while you can ; And Heaven will bless you for doing your best, And helping yourself like a man ! Habour ! 37 Eor Labour is money, and Labour is health, Arid Labour is duty on earth ; And never was honour, or wisdom, or wealth, But Labour has been at its birth ! The rich, — in his father, his friend, or himself, By head or by hand must have toil'd, And the brow, that is canopied over with pelf, By Labour's own sweat has been soil'd ! iT'Iir l r rni 1mm. A Rhyme tor the Million. $3rnt in wynds and closes narrow, Breathing pestilential air, Crush'd beneath oppression's harrow, Faint with famine, bow'd with carc,- Gaunt Affliction's sons and daughters ! Why so slow to hear the call Which The Voice upon the waters Preaches solemnly to all ? Hark ! Old Ocean's tongue of thunder Hoarsely calling bids you speed To the shores he held asunder Only for these times of need ; Now, upon his friendly surges Ever ever roaring Come, All the sons of hope he urges To a new, a richer home ! 53 Cfjc J^cfo g?omc. England and her sea-girt sisters Pine for want in seeming wealth ; Though the gaudy surface glisters, Tins is not the hue of health ; O ! the honest labour trying Vainly here to earn its bread, — ! the willing workers dying, Unemploy'd, untaught, unfed ! Thousand sights that melt to pity, — Move to fear, or — tempt to scorn ! Wretched swarms iu field and city, Wherefore are these paupers born ! — Shall I tell you, heirs of pleasure ? Shall I teach you, sons of pain ? Unto both, each in his measure, Stir I now this earnest strain. Lo ! to every human creature Born upon this bounteous earth, Speaks the God of grace and nature, Speaks for plenty or for dearth ; Till the ground ; if not, thou starvest ; Tear shall drive to duteous toil ; Till the ground ; a golden harvest Then shall wave on every soil ! And behold ! 1 he Kixg All-glorious Unto Britain tythes the world, — Everywhere her crown victorious, Everywhere her cross unfurl'd ! God hath giv'n her distant regions, Broad and ricli ; and store of ships ; God hath added horacborn legions, Steep'd in trouble to the lips ! Join then in one holy tether Those whom Man hath put aside, Those whom God would link together, Earth and labour well-applied : Ho ! thou vast and wealthy nation, Wing thy fleets to every place, Fertilizing all Creation With the Anglo-Saxon race ! England's frank and sturdy bearing, Scotland's judgment, true and tried, Erin's headlong headstrong daring, And the Welchman's honest pride ;— Send these forth, and tame the savage, Sow his realms with British homes, Where till now wild monsters ravage, Or the wilder Bushman roams ! Let, as erst in Magna Gracia, Nobles, sages, join the ranks; And for vacant Austral-Asia Leave for good these swarming banks ; Not as exiled,— but with honour ! Told in tale, and sung in song ; With the Queen,— God's blessing on her!— Speeding this good work alon l G Cf)t $ciu f)onu. Theii the wilderness shall blossom, And the desert, as the rose ; "While dear Earth's maternal bosom With abundance overflows : Then shall Britain gladly number Crowds of children, now her dread, That her onward march encumber With the living and — the dead ! Ay ! for bitter is the contest As a struggle, life for life, Where the very meal thou wantest Was for little ones and wife, — Where they slowly pine and perish That the father mav be strong, Some taskmaster's wealth to cherish, By his labour, right or wrong ! Haste, then, all ye better natures, Help in what must bless the World See, those cellar-crowded creatures To despair's own dungeon hurl'd ; — Send — or lead them o'er the waters To the genial shores, that give Britain's sacred sons and daughters Man's great privilege — to Live ! There, — instead of scanty wages, Grinding rent and parish tax, — In the wood, unheard for ages, Rings the cheerful freeman's axe : CIjc f2cfo f^omt. 61 Whilst in yonder cozy clearing, Home, sweet Home, rejoices life, Full of thoughts and things endearing, Merry babes and rosy wife ! There, — instead of festering alleys, Noisome dirt, and gnawing dearth, — Sunny hills and smiling valleys Wait to yield the wealth of Earth ! All She asks is — human labour, Healthy in the open air ; All she gives is — every neighbour Wealthy, hale, and happy There ! (Tfllummj. A Ballad for tue U.nluoky. 3f CHUM into trouble; and comforting friends For charity hasten'd to find The very just cause for such righteous amends Rewarding a reprobate mind. Some hinted, He lives upon victuals— and drink ; And so, to be honest, I do ; Some others,— No wonder, we cannot but think, The false is unfortunate too : One said, like a Solomon, Pride has a fall ; Another condemn'd me for Sloth; Another thought neither accounted for all; Another felt sure it was both. G2 Calumnw. Meanwhile was I diligent, humble, and pure, And patiently kissing the rod, And took it all well, for my spirit was sure It came from a covenant God. Then I look'd in His Bible, and found there a man, Like me, with afflictions and friends ; And learnt that, let Satan do all that he can, The Lord will make ample amends. So, trouble went from me ; and Job was made whole ; And friends slunk away in their shame : For Heaven's rich mercy gave body and soul Health, honour, good-fortune, and fame. 3itotj to Ittitmrk A Ballad or Humanity <& fctmg and men of British mould, With mother's milk within you ! A simple word for young and old, A word to warm and win you ; You've each and all got human hearts As well as human features, So hear me, while I take the parts Of all the poor dumb creatures. I wot your lot is sometimes rough ; But theirs is something rougher, — No hopes, no loves, — but pain enough, And only sense to suffer : iHcrfp to ®am&U. 63 You, men and boys, have friends and joys, And homes, and hopes in measure, — But these poor brutes are only mutes, And never knew a pleasure ! A little water, chaff and hay, And sleep, the boon of Heaven, How great returns for these have they To your advantage given : And yet the worn-out horse, or ass, Who makes your daily gaining, Is paid with goad and thong, alas ! Though nobly uncomplaining. Stop, cruel boy ! you mean no ill, But never thought about it, — Why beat that patient donkey still ? He goes as well without it : Here, taste and try a cut or two, — Ha ! you can shout and feel it ; Boy — that was Mercy's hint to you, — In shorter measure deal it. Stop, sullen man ! 'tis true to tell How ill the world has used you ; The farmers didn't treat you well, The squire's self refused you : But is that any reason why A bad revenge you're wreaking On that poor lame old horse, — whose eye Rebukes you without speaking? Gi fiBltrcv to animals. Oil think not thou that this dumb brute Has no strong Friend to aid him ; Nor hope, because his wrongs are mute, They rouse not God who made him ! A little while, and you are — dead, With all your bitter feelings ; How will the Judge, so just and dread, Reward your cruel dealings ? Go, do some good before you die To those who make your living ; They will not ask you reasons why, Nor tax you for forgiving : Their mouths are mute ; but most acute The woes whereby you wear them ; Then come with me, and only see How easy 'tis to spare them ! Load for'ard ; neither goad, nor flog ; For rest your beast is flagging : And do not let that willing dog Tear out his heart with dragging : Wait, wait awhile ; those axles grease, And shift this buckle's fretting ; And give that galling collar ease ; — How grateful is he getting ! So poor yourselves, and short of joys, Unkindly used, unfairly, I sometimes wonder, men and boys, You're merciful so rarely : iBcrci) to Animals'. Co If you have felt how hunger gripes, Why famish and ill use 'em ? If you 've been weal'd by sores and stripes, How can you beat and bruise 'em ? m Oh, fear ! lest God has taught in vain, And so your hearts you harden ; Oh, hope ! for lo ! He calls again, And note's the time for pardon : Yes, haste to-day to put away Your cruelties and curses, — And man at least, if not his beast, Shall bless me for my verses. €\)i Dag's ]M\\'m : Against " the Truck System." |i>abc pity, Master, on me ! I scarce can drag the load. — I all but pull my heartstrings out upon this stony road ; Yet, with a cudgel and a curse my willing toil you pay, And leap upon the truck behind, to help me on my way ! Half-starved, and weal'd, and bruised, and gall'd, in every bone I acho, And strain beneath the crushing load, as if my back would break, The while athirst I struggle on among these dusty ruts, And dread the mended places where the flint so sharply cui s ! Man, O Master ! Nature's hand — (it is the hand of God !) For roads like this made stubborn hoofs, — my soft foot for the sod; Built the strong frame of beasts of draught to pull your cart or van, But gave me nobler sense and wish to be (he friend of Man ! G6 Cijc Sorr's petition. Witli faithful zeal to watch the flock or homestead night and day, To chase your game, or bravely hunt the prowling beasts of prey; With joyous love to welcome you, with courage to defend ; — O Man, art thou " the friend of God?" — then let me be thy friend. Yes, — learned lords and sporting men, who make or mar the laws, Why hesitate such ills to cure, — for is there not a cause ? The town is quit of dog-truck-scamps and cruelties like these, But in our lonely country lanes they torture as they please. No eye to see, no hand to help, — (but His, long-suffering still, Who yet shall bless good's bruised heel, and crush the head of ill!) No pity in the cruel heart to stay the hand that flogs, — O senators, consider well the case of country-dogs. And for your clients, dog-truck-men, — ask all the country through, In every village, who is worst of all their roughest crew ? They'll tell you, one and all alike, as honestly they can, Our model rogue and thief and sot is — yonder dog-truck-man a drnglnni's Iritrt ! " A Word of Comfort to TnE Loyai. (SnglairtJ'g heart ! Oh never fear The sturdy good old stock ; Nothing's false or hollow here, But solid as a rock : England's heart is sound enough, And safe in its old place, Honest, loyal, blithe, and bluff, And open as her face ! England's heart ! With beating nerves It rallies for the throne, — And, with Luther, well preserves The knee for God alone ! England's heart is sound enough, Unshaken aud serene, Like her oak-trees true and tough And old, — but glad and green ! England's heart ! All Europe huii'd To ruin, strife, and dearth, Sees yet one Zoar in the world, The Goshen of the earth ! England's heart is sound enough, — And — though the skies be dark, Though winds be loud, and waves be rough- Safe, as Noah's ark ! England's heart,— Ay, God be praised, That thus, in patriot pride, An English cheer can yet be raised Above the stormy tide : Safe enough, and sound enough, It thrills the heart to feel A man's a bit of English stuff, True from head to heel ! 68 ftiij dDmti $ta. A Rhyme for all Good Men and True. £2HI)OC btr I am, wherever my lot, Whatever I happen to be, Contentment and Duty shall hallow the spot That Providence orders for me ; No covetous straining and striving to gain One feverish step in advance, — I know my own place, and you tempt me in vain To hazard a change and a chance ! I care for no riches that are not my right, No honour that is not my due ; But stand in my station by day, or by night, The will of my Master to do ; He lent me my lot, be it humble or high, And set me my business here ; And whether I live in His service, or die, My heart shall be found in my sphere ! If wealthy, I stand as the steward of my King ; If poor, as the friend of my Lord ; If feeble, my prayers and my praises I bring ; If stalwarth, my pen or my sword : If wisdom be mine, I will cherish His gift ; If simpleness, bask in His love ; If sorrow, His hope shall my spirit uplift ; If joy, I will throne it above ! The good that it pleases my God to bestow, I gratefully gather and prize ; The evil, — it can be no evil, I know, But only a good in disguise ; 4Hp <&km $!acc. G'J And whether my station be lowly or great, No duty can ever be mean, The factory-cripple is fix'd in his fate As well as a King or a Queen ! For duty's bright livery glorifies all With brotherhood, equal and free, Obeying, as children, the heavenly call, That places us where we should be ; A servant, — the badge of my servitude shines As a jewel invested by Heaven ; A monarch, — remember that justice assigns Much service, where so much is given ! Away then with " helpings" that humble and harm Though " bettering" trips from your tongue, Away ! for your folly would scatter the. charm That round my proud poverty hung : I felt that I stood like a man at my post, Though peril and hardship were there, — And all that your wisdom would counsel me most Is — "Leave it;— do better elsewhere." If " better" were better indeed, and not " worse," I might go ahead with the rest ; But many a gain and joy is a curse, And many a grief for the best : No ! — duties are all the " advantage" I use ; I pine not for praise or for pelf ; And as for ambition, I care not to choose My better or worse for myself! ■0 Hftj) , thou lovest high and holy Thought, And noble Deeds, and Hopes sublime or beauteous, Thou lovest Charities in secret wrought, And all things pure, and generous, and duteous ; W hat then if these be drest in robes of power, Triumphant words, that thrill the heart of man, Conquering for good beyond the flitting hour, With stately march, and music in the van? 99 Cljnrifi} ! A Word to the Rich. Written for the Liverpool Hospitals, Aug. 1849.' dfor Charity's sake ! to the poor of the land Your generous blessing extend, — While Need and Affliction with suppliant hand Solicit your help as a friend ; Remember, the Master of these, as of us, On earth was a brother in need, And all that ye give to the desolate thus, To Him do ye give it indeed ! To Him ! — in his Judgment, a fiery sword Hath smitten, and scatter'd, and slain : To Him !— in His Mercy, the sword of the Lord Returns to its scabbard again : To Him ! for the God wbo was pleased to be Man, In reason expects of His kin To strive against evil, and do what we can To chase away sorrow and sin. O Britain ! dear home of the good and the great, The kind, and the fair, and the free, — The nations applaud thee for strength and for state, And marvel thy glory to sec : Because — through the length and the breadth of thy land True Charity scatters her seed ; Aud Heaven still strcnglhens the heart and the hand That blesses a brother in need ! 100 Cijarttj)! Ave, Britain ! the destitute's refuge and rest, O'ershadow'd with olives and palms, In war thou art prosper' d, in peace thou art blest, Because of thy prayers and thine alms : The soft rain of heaven makes fertile thy fields, And so in sweet incense again It rises like dew o'er the harvest it yields, To solace the children of pain. Then hasten, ye wealthy ! to bless and be blest, By giving to God of His own : He asks you to help the diseased and distrest, He pleads in the pang and the moan ! In vain ? — can it be ? — shall the Saviour in vain Petition His pensioners thus ? Oh no ! with all gladness we give Him again What He giveth gladly to us 1 €\)t 3&ra fiiitmt fern. <£biht\)(:ti loiterer, pilgrim of fashion, Sunless and hard is thy frost-bitten heart ; Scoffing at nature's affection and passion, Till thou hast made the sad angels depart : Sinner and fool ! to be searing and sealing All the sweet fountains of spirit and truth — Quick to be free from the freshness of feeling, Swift to escape from the fervours of youth. €I)c iHan about Cofon. 101 Woe to thee — woe ! for thy criminal coldness ; Oh, I could pity thee, desolate man, But that those eyes, in their insolent boldness, Tempt me to scorn such a state, if I can : Wearied of hunting the shadows of pleasures, Thou art half dead in the prime of thy days, Emptied of Heaven's and Earth's better treasures, Victim and slave to the world and its ways ! Early and late at thy dull dissipation, Listlessly indolent even in sin, What is thy soul but a pool of stagnation, Calmness without, and corruption within ? Happiness, honour, and peace, and affection — These were thy heritage every one, — But as thou meetest them all with rejection, They have rejected thee, Prodigal Son ! O that humility, gracious as duteous, Lighten'd those eyelids so heavy with scorn ! O that sincerity, blessed as beauteous, Gilded thy night with the promise of morn ! Erankness of mind is the best of high breeding Kindness of soul the true Gentleman's part ; And the first fashion all fashions exceeding, Is the warm gush of a generous heart ! 102 51 ^rnijtr fnr fjt frnti, August G, 1848. ■atmtgijti) dTatljcr ! hearken,— Forgive, and help, and bless, Nor let thine anger darken The night of our distress ; As sin and shame and weakness Are all we call our own, We turn to Thee in meekness, And trust on Thee alone. God, remember Zion, — And pardon all her sin ! Thy mercy we rely on To rein Thy vengeance in : Though dark pollution staineth The temple Thou hast built, Thy faithfulness remaineth, — And that shall cleanse the guilt ! To Thee, then, Friend All-seeing, Great source of grace and love, In whom we have our being, In whom we live and move, — Jerusalem, obeying: Thy tender word, " Draw near," "Would come securely, praying In penitence and fear. £ grayer for tlje Eantt. 103 Thou knowest, Loud, the peril Our ill deserts Lave wrought, If earth for us is sterile Aud all our labour nought ! Alas,— our righteous wages Are famiue, plague, aud sword, Unless Thy wrath assuages In mercy, gracious Lord ! For lo ! we know Thy terrors Throughout the world are rife, Seditions, frenzies, errors, Perplexities and strife ! Thy woes are on the nations, And Thou dost scatter them, — Yet heed the supplications Of Thy Jerusalem ! Truth, Lord, we are unworthy, Unwise, untrue, unjust, Our souls and minds are earthy, And cleaving to the dust : But pour Thy graces o'er us, And quicken us at heart, — Make straight Thy way before us, Aud let us not depart ! Turn us, that wc may fear Thee, And worship day by day, — Draw us, that we draw near Thee, To honour and obey ; 101 a fJrnyrr for tf;e Ean». Be with us all in trouble, And, as our Saviour still, Lord, recompense us double With good for all our ill ! Though we deserve not pity, Yet, Lord, all bounty yield,— All blessings in the city, And blessings in the field, On folded flocks and cattle, On basket and on store, In peace, and in the battle, All blessings evermore ! All good for earth and heaven !- Tor we are bold to plead As through thy Son forgiven, And in Him sons indeed ! Yea, Father ! as possessing In Thee our Father- God, Give, give us every blessing, And take away Thy rod ! 105 frnise ! A Best-oxse to "The Prayer eor the Laxd." September 18, 18-18. Wit thank Thee, King of Heaven ! We bless Thee, glorious Lord ! Because Thy grace hath giveu The mercies we implored ; Because Thy love rejoices To smile Thy wrath away, We come with hearts and voices To praise as well as pray ! now regard with favour The sacrifice we bring, As incense of sweet savour, As Abel's offering ; As Noah's, when he raised Thee An altar near the ark ; As Jonah's, when he praised Thee Beneath the waters dark ! For lo ! Thy bounteous promise Is sure to those who pray, Averting evil from us And helping us alway; And though we all have wander'd In sinfulness and shame, — Yet once again our standard We set up in Thy name ! 106 $i-ats!c. Thy constant mercy deigneth A covenant of peace ; So long as earth remaineth, Its plenty shall not cease ; Still in Thy holy keeping Our grateful eyes hehold The sowing and the reaping, As in the days of old ! Yea, — though in righteous reason Thy judgments might have frown'd, The harvest in its season Hath joyfully come round ; And while our sins are grievous And make us fear the rod, Thy pity doth relieve us Because we hope in God ! Thee, Thee alone for ever Thy children still shall praise, And duteously endeavour To walk in all Thy ways ; Still hoping and still asking Thy pardon and Thy love, And in the sunshine basking Of blessings from above ! io: U -v> Tikrtij— d:i]unliii[— /rntaittj ! " LIBERTY. Etbcrti) !— Who shall be free ?— The winds of the air, and the waves of the sea, And the beast in his lair, and the bird on its tree, And the savage who battles with boars and with bears Tor the root that he grubs, or the flesh that he tears,— Liberty, these are for thee ! Liberty ? — How can it be That reason, and duty, and science, and skill, And order, and beauty, are lawgivers still, And yet that responsible Man can be found UntrammelPd by rules, and by harness unbound ? — Liberty, No man is free. Liberty ? — sadness to see Were the heart without love, or the mind without fear Tor The Father above, and His Family here ; And faith and affection, constraining or fond, A\ hat are they but chains, an invincible bond, Liberty, manacling Thee ! Liberty, look not on mc With a Siren's smile on thy beautiful face, And a treacherous wile in thy warm embrace: No ! let me feel fctter'd, — a martyr, a slave To honour and duty from cradle to grave ! Liberty, I'll none of Thee. 108 EtbevtD. Liberty !— " fetter'd," yet free : For the chain that we wear is of roses and balm, And the badge that we bear is The Conquerors palm, And the licence we loathe is a freedom to Sin, And the thraldom we love is Obedience within, Liberty, leading to Thee ! Liberty ! — for thou shalt be My glorious reward in a happier clime, From the hand of my Lokd, who hath bound me to Time As a bondsman here for a year and a day To reign as a King for ever and aye, Holy, and happy, and Free ! EQUALITY. $3tmncr. Envy's feeble hope, Shipwreck's last despairing rope, Idle wish from Satan sent, Ruffian prize of Discontent, Dull debasing sordid thing Crushing down each generous spring, Stern Procrustes' iron bed To rack the feet or lop the head, — Where in all life's social book Shall your purblind statesman look, Where, — Equality, to find A sillier lie to cheat mankind ? Tell the truth, yea tell it out, Nature, without fear or doubt ; ©qualttj). 109 Tell it out that never yet Have two utter equals met : Leaves and fruits on every tree, Fowls and fish of air and sea, Stars on high with all their host, Pebbles from a kingdom's coast ; Search them all, some difference still Clings to each for good or ill ; Search the world — all worlds — around, Perfect twins were never found ; Babes of various realm and race, Men of every age and place, Gifts of God, or wise denials, Pleasures, sorrows, triumphs, trials, All things differ everywhere, — Never two can start quite fair, — Never two could keep the start In soul or body, mind or heart, While the shortest winter's day To its morrow gloom'd away ! Would then Vanity, and Sloth, And Disappointment, scorning both, And Pride and Meanness, hand in hand, With Crime and low Ambition stand To scheme and plot a wholesome plau Utterly to ruin Man, — Then should they level love and hate, And grind to atoms all things great, Corrupt all good, befoul all fair, Make gladness weep, and hope despair, 110 equality. And, impotent to raise the dead, Kill the living in their stead, By working out the poison'd lie Your sages call Equality. No ! thou phantom false and fair, Rainbow-castle in the air, Fit enough for fays or elves, Bat not for mortals like ourselves, In this hive of human kind Where some can see, and some are blind, Where some will work though others play, And many swear while many pray, Where disease and asre at length Must bend and bow to manhood's strength, Where every one of God's good gifts The favour'd from his fellow lifts, — Equal ! — equal ? — tush : the word In truer letters spells absurd. Equal ? there is One alone Reigns Coequal on His throne ; Nor can any creature dare With such Essence to compare. All things else through change and chance, And time and place and circumstance, And partial Providence most just, And man's ' I will,' and God's * you must,'- All things, differing each from each, Vainly still their lesson teach, If Equality be thus Possible or wise for us, CBqualt'tD. Ill Where with various means and powers In a trial-world like ours We must, work as best we may, And leave it to The Judgment Day To declare how ill or well Earth's advantages may tell : Then, shall equal meed be given By the justice of High Heaven : Then, shall compensation true Set us all in places new : And,— how many counted first There shall stand the worst accurst ! And, — how many here so poor, Lazarus laid at Dives' door, There, instead of last and least, First shall sit at Life's great feast ! FRATERNITY. £tt»ai), away, Suspicion ! And hail, thou generous heat ; With tears of just contrition Let me wash my brothers' feet : For I have sinn'd, — how often ! While Charity stood by This stony heart to soften, And to melt this frozen eye ! Yes, — I have err'd, like others, By coldness and constraint, Forgetting we arc brothers, The sinner as the saint, — 112 dfratmuii). All children of one Father, All guilty and all weak, And bound by these the rather Every wanderer to seek ! Awake then ! holy yearning The hearts of men to thrill, — Ascend ! sweet incense burning To warm the human will ; O let us dare with boldness To burst this girdling chain Of common social coldness, And to love as babes again ! In frankness, and in fairness, Go forth and reap the earth,— Its richness and its rareness, Its more than money's-worth ; Go forth, and win from others Their honour and their love, By treating them as brothers And the sons of God above ! For in that brighter Sequel To which our beings tend At last we shall be equal In One Redeeming Friend ! And He, who made us brothers, Our Lord, and brother too, Hath gone before the others To prepare for them and you ! ^Tratcrntty. 113 Thus theu shall heirs of heaven, But not the slaves of sin, — Forgiving and forgiven This holy triad win ; Free, — equal, — and fraternal, In God's own way and time, To live the life eternal, And to love the love sublime ! JJkrtiit Ttttljrr. Eutfjrr Eleutheros ! thou lion-heart, Call'd by a name predestined to be Free, Nobly thou didst the Christian warrior's part, — Paul and Ignatius fought again in thee : My glorious namesake, what a praise to me, By nation, name, and nature too, thou art, Martin Eleutheros ! my Saxon chief ! I, too, would scorn to bend a slavish knee, Or bate one tittle of my firm belief, Or seem some other than I boast to be — No human master's servant : in thy strength, The Rock of Ages, is my spirit strong; And resolutely will I lead along, Like thee, for truth, and good, and God at length. 114 ling llmr. (Suggested by a gold British coin, unique, of Veric Rex, found among some Roman remains at Farley Heath. J 2Ftvff, the King, in his chariot of war, Like a statue straight upstood, As his scythed wheels flash'd fast and far, Smear' d with the Romans' blood ; His huge bronze celt was crimson with gore, And, round his unkempt head, The golden fillet his fathers wore Was dabbled with drops of red ! And rage in the monarch's eye blazed bright, And his cheek was deadly pale, For Plautius Aulus had won the fight With his mighty men in mail : Tne carross of hide and the wicker targe Were riddled far and near ; And terrible was the praetorian charge, And keen the cohort's spear ! And over the hurt-wood, and over the heath, Alone — alive he fled ; For the car bore straight to his stronghold of Leith The living — and the dead ! Young Mepati lay at his father's feet, Hew'd by the ruthless foe ; And the bloodhound may track on the trickling peat The pathless way they go ! Young Mepati— well had he borne him then, On Fair-lee's fatal day, He boasted that ten of those bearded men Had vanish'd from the fray ; Bins Vtcit. 115 His flinthead shafts went merrily home, As four hard hearts had felt ; And six of the stalwarth guards of Rome Had bow'd to the stripling's celt ! Young Mepati, come of the Comian stock,— Ha ! look ! they hem him round, And down is he hurl'd in the battle shock, And trampled to the ground, — But Veric has seen with his lightning eye, And struck has the bolt, goodsooth ! Like thundering Thor with his hammer on high, He has saved the gallant youth ! But, woe ! for the foe had smitten him sore ; And eight deep wounds in his front With red lips swore how well the boy bore That hideous battle-brunt ! Proudly the monarch smiled on the child, In his rescuing arms upborne, — But — all of his son that Veric has won Is a corpse by the tigers torn ! Then, deep as the ocean's distant roar, The father gave a groan ; And the Attrebatc king by his gods he swore He should not die alone ! Back on their haunches swift he stopp'd Those untamed fiery steeds; As an eagle down on the dovecote dropp'd, Or a whirlwind in the reeds ! 116 ftmg Wtvic. And, was it then that the monarch's life By the Waverley witch was charm'd ? The javelin sleet of that stern strife Around him flew unharm'd ! And weary he cleft with his wedge of war The hundredth foreign brow, Before he would flee in his iron car, As he is fleeing now ! For lo ! to that false foe he has lost All that a king can lose ; His veteran chiefs, his patriot host, Scatter'd as early dews : Treason had wink'd at the stranger's gold, And faithless friends had fled, — And Mepati's self — his darling bold — Alas ! that he is dead. He flies, as only a king may fly, In obstinate despair, — On his hill-top high like a lion to die At bay in his own lair ! And lo ! the black horses are white with foam, Strong straining up the steep ; To carry the king to his ancient home, Yon far-seen castle keep ! But — woe upon woe ! for the wily foe Hath been before hirn there, And while the lion was prowling below, Hath spoil'd the lion's lair ; lafng Wtvic. 117 Dead, dead and stark, and smear'd with gore, Beneath a smouldering heap, Wife, daughters, and sons, and the grandsire hoar. On death's red ashes sleep ! Then burst in agony, rage, and pain, That noble broken heart ; And under his beetled brows like rain The spouting tears did start : And down like a pole-axed bull he drops, And weak on the threshold lies ; The wellspring of life freezes and stops — He dies — the hero dies ! But, look ! a light on his royal brow, A strange prophetic flame — The spirit of Vola over him now In solemn calmness came, He saw the Gael at the gates of Rome, And carnage on the track, And Britain's spoilers hurrying home To drive the terror back, — lie saw in the midst of his native plaius Fairdee's polluted hill, — Where Rome so long should forge her chains To bind the Briton still, He saw it ruin'd, and burnt, and bare ; And — from one mite of gold, He saw a Saxon stranger there Head off this tale of old ! 118 § .n mjjd ! r Cool and sweet is the breath of the morn, And dew-beads glitter on thistle and thorn ; And linnets and larks are beginning to trill Their psalm to the sun just over the hill, And all things pleasant, and pure, and fair Bathe in the balmy morning air. Hist ! the turf is under thy feet, Over it steadily, — sure and fleet ! Steadily, Wonder ! — quietly now ; Why, what a hot little fool art thou ! Wild and wanton ! — it's very unkind To leave poor Gael so panting behind ; — Ho ! my greyhound ! Soho ! — a hare ! Good dog : after her ! — soft and fair ; Off does she fly, and away does he bound, — Glorious ! how we are skimming the ground ! Heels above head, — over she goes ! And pussey squeals at my greyhound's nose. Home : hark back ! — the games are done, Though Csesar's self has barely begun : Look ! let him change the spur for the pen, To hunt and to harry the hearts of men, — Possibles do, and impossibles dare, And gallop in spirit everywhere ! 119 lUnisitmg Cijttrtoliimse, " After Long Years." Dec. 12, 1848. *H JiijatJoirj, a vapour, a tale that is told, — All ! where is the figure so true As justly to picture my bygones of old Uprising in dreamy review ? Those dim recollections, sepulchral and cold, The ancient obscured by the new, As over these hill-tops are mistily roll'd Those ghost-looking columns of dew ! I went to the place that had known me of yore, To see its familiar face ; And mournfully stood, — for it knew me no more ; All strange did I stand in that place ! And it seem'd as if Hades had render'd its dead ■\Yhen, less by the sight than the sound, At the hint of a voice, in a snow-sprinkled head Some school-fellow's features I found. changes in feeling, O chances of life ! O mercies, and perils, and fears ! What ages of trial, and travail, and strife Have sped since those holiday years ! In half-drowning vision, as seen in a glass, On a sudden the sorrows and joys Of twenty long winters all hurriedly pass, And, look ! for once more we are boys. 120 iftcbtstttncj Cfyartcrljoust. Yet here, like the remnant of some gallant crew Just snatch'd from the deep in the dark, We gaze on each other, a storm-batter'd few Adrift on a perilous bark ! And mournful as Life, aud mysterious as Death, Our commonplace converse is heard, For we feel as we speak that we live in a breath, And haply might die in a word ! And feelings are fickle, — and riches have wings, And nothing is steady or sure, And even affections are changeable things, And — where can a heart be secure ? Ah ! clouded and dreary and solemn and still, And as by some nightmare opprest, — Come, heart ! break away from this choke and this chill, In God and thyself ever blest ! £ire listo, A H031ATJ>"T, TOR MUSIC. !HlLucaut?OU£ Lady Arabell Glanced scornfully aside, — Alas ! for he hath loved her well, In spite of all her pride ; €l)t listers. 121 Yet coldly to that noble heart In all its glowing youth, Away ! she cried, — and spurn d aside Its tenderness and truth. Away ! — and at her feet he fell As cold and white as stone ! And heartless Lady Arabell Has left him all alone ; Alone, to live ? alone, to die ? Alone ? — Yet who art thou, — Some guardian angel from the sky To bless and aid him now ? Ah ! Florence loves young Cecil well, And pines this many a day, — For star-eyed sister Arabell Hath won his heart away, — Hath won it all by treacherous arts To fling it all aside, And break a pair of loving hearts Tor triumph and for pride ! Fair Florence with her eyes of blue And locks of golden light ; Dark Arabell's of raven hue With flashing orbs of night ; Aud has young Cecil chosen well Between that sister pair, The proud and brilliant Arabell Or gentle Florence fair ? 122 ©he &{*Ur*. O bitter morn ! O blessed morn ! For lo, he turns to love No more that raven queen of scorn, But this sweet sister dove : In spite of lustrous Arabell And all her envious pride, Young Cecil loves his Florence well, And — Florence is his bride. dtagtf, ShitJomttable merit Of the Anglo-Saxon mind ! That makes a man inherit The glories of his kind, That scatters all around him Until he stands sublime With nothing to confound him The conqueror of Time, — mighty Perseverance ! O Courage, stern and stout ! That wills and works a clearance Of every rabble rout, — That cannot brook denial And scarce allows delay, But wins from every trial More strength for every day, — <£ncrg». 123 Antagonistic Power ! I praise, — for praise I can, — The God, the place, the hour That makes a man a Man, — The God — from whom all greatness, The place, Old England's shore, The hour, an hour of lateness (For Time shall soon be o'er) The Man, — aye, every brother Of Anglo-Saxon race Who owns an English mother And Freedom's dwelling-place ! I feel, I feel within me That courage self-possess'd, — The force, that yet shall win me The brightest and the best, — The stalwarth English daring That steadily steps on, Unswerving and unsparing, Until the world is won, — The boldness and the quiet That calmly go ahead, In spite of wrath and riot, In spite of quick and dead, — Hot Energy to spur me, Keen Enterprise to guide, And Conscience to upstir me, And Duty by my side, And Hope before me singing Assurance of success, And rapid Action springing At once to notliing less, And all the mighty movings That wrestle in my breast, The longings and the lovings, The Spirit's glad unrest, That scorns excuse to tender Or Fortune's favour ask, And never will surrender Whatever be the task ! I cannot wait for chances, For luck I will not look ; In faith my spirit glances At Providence, God's book ; And there discerning truly That right is might at length, I dare go forward duly In quietness and strength, Unflinching and unfeariug, The flatterer of none, And in good courage wearing The honours I have won ! Let circumstance oppose me, 1 beat it to my will ; And if the flood o'erflows me, I dive and stem it still ; No hindering dull Material Shall conquer or control My energies ethereal My gladiator Soul ! dicrcjp. 125 I will contrive occasion, Not tamely bide my time ; No Capture, but Creation Shall make my sport sublime ; Let lower spirits linger For hint and beck and nod, I always see the finger Of an onward-urging God ! Not selfish, not hard-hearted, Not vain, nor deaf, nor blind, From wisdom not departed, But in humbleness of mind, Still shall mine independence Stand manfully alone, Nor dance a dull attendance At any mortal throne ; Disciple of no teacher Except the One in Heaven, And yielding to no creature The Reason He hath given ! O thus, while contemplation In faith beholds above My glorious hope, Salvation, Eternity of Love, And while a Saxon spirit Is bubbling from my heart To strengthen and upstir it To play a giant's part, No hindrance, nor misfortune, No man's neglect, nor ill, 12.6 GEntrgg. Shall bend me to importune One weak indulgence still, But with my God to nerve me My soul shall overwhelm All circumstance to serve me In my Spiritual Realm ! In Illustration of the Anglo-Saxon Map. f^O ! ye swift messengers out of the North, Mercy's ambassadors,— haste to go forth ! Speedily let your broad sails be unfurl' d, Winging your errand all over the world, Wafting your message of peace and goodwill, Brotherhood, godliness, science, and skill ! Ye are the salt of the earth, and its health, — Ye are its gladness, its wisdom, and wealth, — Ye are its glory ! O Britain, thy sons, Thy stout Anglo-Saxons, thy resolute ones, Ever triumphant on every shore, Are only triumphant for Good evermore ! Ministers bright of the bounties of God, Where is the land by these angels untrod ? Tell it out, Africa, China, and Scinde, And Isles of the Sea, and the uttermost Inde, Tell out their zeal, and their grandeur of soul, From the sands of the Line, to the snows of the Pole ! J2on &ttgti sfctr &njJ«K. 127 Tell out the goodness, the greatness, the grace, That follow their footsteps in every place ! Tell it out, thou, the first cradle of Man, Teeming with millions, serene Hindostan, — Tell how fair commerce, and just-dealing might, Have blest thee with peace, aud adorn'd thee with light! Boundless Australia, help of the age, And heirloom of hope on Futurity's page, ho ! thy vast continent, silent and sad, With the song of the Saxon has learnt to be glad ; Rejoicing to change the wild waste and the fen Into wide-waving harvests aud cities of men ! Mighty Columbia, Star of the West, See, 'tis a world by the Saxon possest ! Glorious aud glad, from the North to the South, Your millions praise God with an Englishman's mouth ! Aud all love a land where at home they would be, England, old England, the Home of the Free ! Dotted about on the width of the world, Her beacon is blazing, her flag is unfurl'd ; Not a shore, not a sea, not a deep desert wild, But pays its mute homage to Energy's child, — Not a realm, not a people, or kingdom, or clan, But owns him the chief of the children of Man ! The foaming Atlantic hath render'd its isles, And the dark Caribbean its tropical smiles, 128 fion £ucrlt sictr &ncrclt. And Southern Pacific those many-hued flowers, And Europe's Mid-Ocean these temples and towers,— Their tribute the seas of Old India bring, And Borneo is proud of her new British King ! Yes ! for dear Britain, the Mother of Men, llules all, under God, by the sword and the pen : She is the Delphi, the heart of the earth, The rock-rushing spring of humanity's worth ; And, if two hemispheres prosper, the cause Lies in old England's Religion and Laws ! Yes ! for her realm is the Goshen of light ; The wings of these Angels have scatter'd the night ! Duteous and daring, as beauteous and strong, They are helpers of Bight, and avengers of Wrong, Fair in their souls as their eyes and their locks, Stout in their hearts as their oaks and their rocks ! (Cdmttirtf jCifr. Cf)infe not thou that fields and flowers, Copses and Arcadian bowers, Grow the crop of Peace : — In this model life of ours Worries seldom cease ! Think not Envy, Hatred, Malice Seethe alone in town and palace ; Eor on Eden first, Pour'd from evil's caldron-chalice, Those hot geysers burst ! Country 3Ufr. 129 Though the scene be sweet and smiling, And the silence most beguiling, And so pure the air, — Man, his paradise defiling, Pours a poison there ! Look at yonder simple village, With its church and peaceful tillage, Seemingly so blest ;— Mutual hate and mutual pillage Truly tell the rest ! With the tongue's destroying sabre, Neighbour battles against neighbour, Whilst each other's glance Tyranny and servile Labour Scowling watch askance ! Wealth, well fawn'd on, and— well-hated ; Want, — with brutal malice mated ; And, to teach the twain, Shallow priestcraft, self-inflated, Dreary, dull, and vain ! Aye, Charles Lamb, the wise and witty, Gentle lover of the city, Sensibly he spoke, When he dealt his pungent pity To us country folk : All for arson insecurely, All for slander little purely, Vcxt with petty strife,— Let no silly mortal surely Covet country life. 130 Count™ Etfc. II. Stop ! — malign not country pleasure ; For there is unminted treasure In its quiet calm ; In its garden-loving leisure Gilead's very balm ! In its duties, peace-bestowing, In its beauties, overflowing All the dewy ground, In its mute religion, glowing Everywhere around : In its unobtrusive sweetness, In its purity, and meetness For contented minds, And the beautiful completeness Man in Nature finds. Yes, — it is no fault of Nature's, If the vice of fallen creatures Spots her with a curse ; Man in towns hath viler features, And his guilt is worse. Troubles, cares, and self-denials, These are no such special vials Pour'd on fields and flowers ; But there always must be trials In this world of ours. Country %iit. 131 Country life, — let us confess it, — Man will little help to bless it, Yet, for gladness there, We may readily possess it In its native air. Rides and rambles, sports and farming, Home, the heart for ever warming, Books, and friends, and ease, — Life must after all be charming, Full of joys like these. Yes, however little gaily, And — for man, however frailly Check'd with sin and strife, — Wisdom rests contented daily With a country life. From a Unit. <@tant aggregate of nations, Glorious Whole of glorious Parts, Unto endless generations Live United, hands and hearts ! Be it storm, or summer-weather, Peaceful calm, or battle-jar, Stand in beauteous strength together, Sister States, as Now ye are ! 132 Co tljf Simon. Every petty class-dissension, Heal it up, as quick as thought ; Every paltry place-pretension, Crush it, as a thing of nought : Let no narrow private treason Your great onward progress bar, But remain, in right and reason, Sister States, as Now ye are ! Eling away absurd ambition ! People, leave that toy to kings : Envy, jealousy, suspicion, Be above such grovelling things ! In each other's joys delighted, All your hate be — joys of war, And by all means keep United Sister States, as Now ye are ! Were I but some scornful stranger, Still my counsel would be just ; Break the band, and all is danger, Mutual fear and dark distrust : But, you know me for a brother And a friend who speak from far, Be at one then with each other, Sister States, as Now ye are ! If it seems a thing unholy Ereedom's soil by slaves to till, Yet, be just ! and sagely, slowly, Nobly, cure that ancient ill : Co ti)t WLnian. 133 Slowly, — haste is fatal ever ; Nobly,— lest good faith ye mar ; Sagely, — not in wrath to sever Sister States, as Now ye are ! Charm'd with your commingled beauty England sends the signal round, "Every man must do his duty" To redeem from bonds the bound ! Then indeed your banner's brightness Shining clear from every star Shall proclaim your joint uprightness, Sister States, as Now ye are ! So, a peerless constellation May those stars for ever blaze ! Three-and-ten-times-threefold nation, Go a-head in power and praise ! Like the many-breasted goddess Throned on her Ephesiau car, Be — one heart in many bodies ! Sister States, as Now ye are. 134 The Solace of Song. (Jrbcr babbling, ever bubbling, Bright as light, and calmly clear, Cure for every trial troubling, Solace ever new and near, Fons Parnassi ! free and flowing, Fons ParnassiJ glad and glowing, Rarefied creative pleasure ! O they lie who say that Song Is a merely graceful measure, Just a luxury of leisure, Not an anthem sweet and strong Rich in spiritual treasure That to Seraphs might belong, — Not a tender consolation AH the cares of life among, Not the balm of broad creation In this maze of right and wrong, — Not the secret soul's distilling, Every nerve and fibre filling With intense ecstatic thrilling, — Evoe ! Fons Parnassi, Fons ebrie Parnassi ! Ah ! thou fairy fount of sweetness, Well I wot how dear thou art In thy purity and meetness To my hot and thirsty heart, dfonS fJarnaSSt. "When, with sympathetic fleetness, I have raced from thought to thought, And, array'd iu maiden neatness, By her natural taste well taught, Thy young Naiad, thy Bieria, My melodious Egeria, "Winsomely finds out my fancies Frank as Sappho, as unsought, — And with innocent wife-like glances Close beside my spirit dances, As a sister Ariel ouo-ht, — Tripping at her wanton will "With unpremeditated skill, Like a gushing mountain rill, Or a bright Bacchante reeling Through the flights of thought and feeling, Half concealing, half revealing "Whatsoe'er of Spirit's fire, Beauty kindling with desire, Can be caught in "Word's attire ! Evoe ! Eons Barnassi, Bons ebrie Barnassi! 1 9 60 136 It. 3.tatljit ; s ; Near Guildford, Surrey, 1838. iidy precinct, mount of God, Where saints have bled, and pilgrims trod, Martyrs' hill — thy nobler name, Martyrs' hill— thy fairer fame Than as call'd of her, whose heart Chose but late the better part, — Unto thee my praise I bring, Thee my soul delights to sing. Lo, the glorious landscape round ! Tread we not enchanted ground ? From this bold and breezy height The charm'd eye sends its eagle flight O'er the panoramic scene, Undulating, rich, and green ; And with various pleasure roves From hill aud dale, to fields and groves, Till the prospect mingling grey With the horizon fades away, Shutting iu the distant view By fainter lines of glimmering blue. Start we from the warm South-East ; Spread the fine pictorial feast : There the landmark tower of Leith Sentinels its purple heath; Nearer, Holmbury's moated hill, Highden-ball, and Ewhurst mill, gt. fHartfja'*- 137 Dewy Hascomb's fir-fringed knoll, Hind-head, and the Devil's-Bowl, With peeps of far South-downs between Seaward closing up the scene. Like a thunder-cloud, beneath Stretches drear the broad Blackheath : Scatter'd coins have seal'd the sod A classic site that Rome has trod, Field of many a desperate strife for conquest, liberty, or life, When the legion's sullen tramp Echoed oft from Farley-camp, And some Caesar's ruthless sword Reap'd the rude barbarian horde, Britons, patriots, free brave men, But uuskill'd to conquer — then. Turn we to this woodland shade, Beyond the Hanger's hazel glade : Ah ! tis sad, though little strange, That times, and things, and men should change; Sad, though little strange to see Albury, such sad change in thee. Thou wert in my infant dreams, My childish pranks, my schoolday schemes ; My heart's young home, my pride and praise ; Playground of my boyish days ; Link'd with learning, goodness, truth, To the story of my youth ; Mixl with hope's romantic plan, And loved, — now years have made me man. 138 #t. fflMtya's. But, the brightness of thy praise Perish' d with those early days, — Thy sweet prime, too fair to last, Spring-like came, and smiled, and past ; And I note, adown the Vale, Thy good-angel wandering pale, With folded wing and tearful eye Mourning for the days gone by ; Now, like some white wounded deer Hiding in the greenwood here ; Now, beside that old church, faint Leaning, like a dying saint. Away : regard we yet again Nature's beauty, — and her bane : Alas ! that man should e'er intrude Where all but he are glad and good, — Alas, for yonder fairy glen, Nature's Eden, vext with men ! Mammon, from those long white mills With foggy steam the prospect fills ; Chimueys red with sulphurous smoke Blight these hanging groves of oak ; And sylvan Quiet's gentle scenes List — to the clatter of machines. Yet more, in yonder rural dell, Where sylphs and fauns might love to dwell, Among those alders, by the stream Stealing on with silver gleam, Blacken'd huts, set wide apart, Grind their dark grain for murder's mart, &t. flJarfya'a. 139 Or, bursting with explosive might, Rage, aud roar, and blast, and blight. Enough, enough of toilsome Art ; Fresh sweet Nature woos thy heart : Gaze then on this western plain, A woody, various, rich champaign ; Each in its hollow nestling down, The farm, the village, or the town; Eield on field, and grove on grove, Wavelike, far as eye can rove, Till intersecting lines of hill The blue horizon faintly fill. And, while thy spirit praises Earth, Its precious gifts, its wealth and worth, Eorget not thou this glorious Sky, Oh ! lift thine eyes, thy heart on high ; Forget not Him, whose mercy gave All the good we hope, or have ; Him, whose Presence, far and near, Man's best wisdom learns to fear Where above the green glad world Heaven's banners float unfurl' d, Gorgeous in each mighty fold Bathed iu black, or fringed with gold; Or, as clouds of fleecy white Sail in seas of azure light ; Or, as streamers hurrying by Tell of tempests in the Sky; Or, like snow-clad mountains, stand Giant wardens of the Land. HO $t. fltartfja'S, Earthward once again ; the North ! Draw its good, its evil forth : Mile beyond mile of waving field, Rare to see, and rich to yield ; The frequent village round its spire ; The snug domain of rural squire ; You dusky tract of Waste and Moss ; That iron road-way drawn across ; Windsor, throned o'er half the land ; And gambling Epsom's far-famed stand : While the dim distance in a shroud Is wrapp'd by Loudon's smoky cloud. Near us, Guildford's ancient town Between the hills is hiding down ; Decent Guildford, clean and steep, Ranged about its castle-keep, Relic of departed power, Grey aud crumbling square old tower. Like some warder at his post Honest Booker's lofty boast, Fine and feudal, shames outright Puny's telegraphic height, While it overtops with pride All the vassal scene beside, And, above that verdant swell, Sainted Catherine's Gothic cell. Westward thence, a narrow track, Stretches far the bare Hog's-back : Ridging up, with hilly sides, Lo, the bristling Boar divides H. #lartl;)a'a. HI Right and left a kindred scene, Purple moors and meadows green, Or those seeming-vineyards wide, Famham's wealth, and Surrey's pride. Forth from Merroe's happy plain And noble Clandon's rich domain, Newland's heights, and Coombe beyond, And nutty Sberbourne's crystal pond, Eastward to the landscape's end The sloping chalky Downs extend, Primal still, by man untamed, Fresh, unbounded, unreclaim'd : Now a lawn of herbage sweet Smooth as velvet to the feet, Now a jungle, matted dense, A wilderness of briar-fence ; Here, au earthwork, fosse and mound ; There, a race-course curving round ; Hollow'd pits, where in old times Pad marauders hid their crimes ; Sad sepulchral groves of yew Solemn ranged in order due, Seeming of primeval birth, Solid as the ribs of earth, "Where white Druids, years of yore, Roam'd those mystic circles o'er, Or calm kneeling on the sod "Wisely worshipp'd Nature's God. Yes, modern; would thy pride condemn Or shall thy wisdom pity them? 142 £t. fllartlja's. They built no prisons for — the poor, Freely fed from door to door ; Their foolish mercy did not strive To give the least that keeps alive, Their charity sought not to know How little poor men need below. But thou, — what means yon human pound, Brick'd and barr'd, and well wall'd round ? But that to thy shame and scorn Penal poverty may mourn How ill-christen'd liberals prove "Words by deeds, and faith by love : For here, unpitied, spurn'd, alone, The British slave must grind and groan, Torn from children, friends and wife, And buried in the midst of life. Man, thy love is chill and small ; Nature, thou art kind to all : This full wide theatre of views Bathed in Autumn's rainbow hues Recreates my freshen'd sight Soft with shade, and rich with light, And, saved from thoughts of pride and pelf, Restores me to my cheerful self. Let then a lateborn sou of Time Shadow forth the Past sublime, And while, the greensward laid along, He weaves his meditative song, Tell what various tribes have trod With various hopes this ancient sod. £t. ;JHartf)a'& H3 Tlie painted Briton, long of yore, Hunting down the wolf or boar; The Roman watcher, posted here Leaning on his iron spear ; The fair-hair'd Angle, piling high Beacon-fires against the sky ; With vulture-eyes the hungry Dane Gloating o'er the fertile plain ; Patriot Saxons, who withstood The Norman, conquering for good ; Monks, to bless with book and bell ; Crusaders, bidding all farewell ; Footsore Pilgrims, hither come Midway from St. Becket's tomb; Round-heads, chaunting rebel prayers ; Gay devoted Cavaliers ; Rustics, on the Sabbath-day Duly toiling up to pray ; Mourners, weeping round the bier Brought for humble burial here ; And thousands, more, in dresses quaint, Than tongue can tell, or pencil paint, Have laugh'd, or wept, or fought their fill, Or lived, or died, on Martyrs' Hill. Martyrs' Hill!— before my mind Rise the triumphs of Mankind ; Martyrs' Hill !— and to my thought Back the crimes of men are brought : Yea ; — for on this sacred sod Doubtless pcrish'd saints of God, 144 $t. tfHartlja'tf. And Elijah's chariot came Mingling with the martyrs' flame, To bear them from that awestruck crowd In robes of light, on thrones of cloud. Then, the seed of holy blood Gave its hundredfold of good ; Barbarians heard, and thought, and felt, Glow'd, admired, and mourn'd, and knelt ; Their very murderers came in fear To bless the sainted victims here ; Penitent, with zealous haste Aloft the rustic temple placed, Keyless arches, rough and round, Spanning high the blood-stain' d ground, Of iron-sandstone rudely built, Memorial of their grief — and guilt. Thereafter, Newark's princely priest Added all this Gothic East, — The modest choir and transepts twain, Fitting well the Christian fane, Windows, deck'd in colours rich, The pointed arch and florid niche, — Contrast to yon Saxon nave That simply mark'd the martyr's grave. Swept along fate's rolling tide Generations lived, and died, Thronging in succession there With the sacrifice of prayer : 5t. iHartlja'a. 145 And a Martha's dubious name Half eclipsed that better fame, Symbol of degenerate years When earth usurps our hopes and fears. Ages came, and ages past ; Till the flood of Time at last Wafted on the modern race Loving gain, and hating grace : So we draw to thy decay Silent ruin of to-day, An evil day of evil deeds, Selfish sects and wrangling creeds, When faith is dead, and zeal grown cold, And churches can be bought and sold, Or left a prey to rot and rain, For lack of grace, and lust of gain. Ruin, I have loved thee long, And owed for years this humble song ; While I pay the grateful debt, Hear me one petition yet. When in God's good time and way I wake upon my dying day, Should I still beneath thee dwell, As my spirit sighs farewell, Let the shadows from thy wall Be my hallow'd funeral pall ; Let no city's close church-yard Steal from thee thy native bard; But where now I careless lie Make me welcome when I die : L 146 £t. 4JHartf)«V«. On this thynie-enamell'd height Let me bid the world good-night ; Sacred to my memory be All the scene that circles thee ; And plant o'er me, in goodwill, A plain stone cross on Martyrs' Hill. 1840. ijj'ljamc on thee, Christian, cold and covetous one! The laws (I praise them not for this) declare That ancient, loved, deserted house of prayer As money's worth a layman landlord's own. Then use it as thine own ; thy mansion there Beneath the shadow of this ruinous church Stands new and decorate ; thine every shed And barn is neat and proper; I might search Thy comfortable farms, and well despair Of finding dangerous ruin overhead, And damp unwholesome mildew on the walls : Arouse thy better self, — restore it ; see, Through thy neglect the holy fabric falls ! Fear, lest that crushing guilt should fall on thee. 147 llrlinilt. a.d. 1849. 3rlutn '.—Ruin now no more, To the Lord we thus restore Thine old glories, holy place, Consecrate again to grace : Thine old glories shine again, Sculptured stone, and Jewell' d pane ; As a cross upon the hill, Nave, quire, and aisles are mapp'd out still, And thy Norman tower on high Boldly stands against the sky. Thanks to Him who blesseth us That the Body riseth thus, — Thanks to Him ! — yet more we need A resurrection rare indeed, In this, and us, the Spirit-part Flaming with a martyr's heart ; In old St. Martha's, thus made new Religion's fervour, pure and true : Send, send that cpiickening might, God of love, and life, and light ! llrnmocrriitci May 15, 1350. CI)C dews of Hermon rest upon thee now, Fair saint and martyr! and yet once again Faith, hope and charity, like gracious rain, Fall on thy consecrated virgin brow : 148 iftenmSccrairtt. For lo ! the Lord is with thee, as of yore, And dwelleth in these hallow'd walls once more, — Rather, — hath never left them; for He heard When in thy desolate gates our earnest vow Rose from this ruin'd altar to His throne, — And resolutely were thy children stirr'd Not in thy sad estate, forlorn and lone, To leave thee prayerless, — but to win The "Word, The living word and sacraments of grace Back to the echoes of this Holy Place. •5 Smrait, far It. #tm T 3 ; attwwf, Consecrated, August 21, 1S50. mcfat, Lord, into thy resting-place, Thou, and thy strength ! Be with thy servants liere,- To bless their work in faithfulness come near, — Tor thine is all the glory, all the grace : Add then Thy Presence, and in spirit appear To consecrate this House ! Not unto us, But thanks be giv'n to Thee, that, (as a bride, ApparelPd well to meet her coming Lord In virgin garments meekly purified,) Waiteth for heavenly benediction thus " St. Ami's of Alderney," to heav'n restored ; may that blessing on her sacred brow Like Aaron's holy oil of joy be pour'd Down to her beauteous feet in fulness Now ! 149 % iterate. Siialford, October 29, 184-7. Ht'kc some fair Nun, the pious and the chaste, Shalford, thy new-bom temple stands serene, Modestly deck'd in pure old English taste, The village beauty of thy tranquil scene ; And we to-day have made religious haste To see thee wedded to thy heavenly Spouse, Kneeling in unison of praise and pray'r To help the offering of thy maiden vows : Hark ! what a thrilling utterance is there, "Lift up your heads, ye everlasting gates," — As God's high priest with apostolic care To Him this tent of glory consecrates : Good work ! to be remember' d for all time, The seed of mercies endless and sublime. " Come in, thou King of Glory," yea, come in, Rest here awhile, great Conqueror for good ! Bless thou this font to cleanse from Adam's sin, Spread thou this table with celestial food ! Aud, kindled by Thy grace to gratitude, May thousands here eternal treasures win, As, hither led, from time to time with joy They seek their Father : lo ! before mine eyes Visions and promises of good arise, — The tender babe baptized, the stripling boy Coiifinn'd for godliness, the maid and youth Wedded in love, the man mature made wise, The elder taught in righteousness and truth, And each an heir of life before he dies ! 150 SI €j)0tt0nttii t\m, tk< "LS45. " <& little more sleep, a little more slumber, A little more folding the hands to sleep," For quick-footed dreams, without order or number, Over my mind are beginning to creep, — Hare is the happiness thus to be raptured By your wild whispers, my Fanciful train, And, like a linnet, be carelessly captured In the soft nets of my beautiful brain ! Touch not these curtains !— your hand will be tearing Delicate tissues of thoughts and of things ;— Call me not '.—your cruel voice will be scaring Flocks of young visions on gossamer wings : Leave me, O leave me, — for in your rude presence Nothing of all my bright world can remain,— Thou art a blight to this garden of pleasance, Tiiou art a blot ou my beautiful brain ! Cease your dull lecture on cares and employment, Let me forget awhile trouble and strife, Leave me to peace, — let me husband enjoyment, — This is the heart and the marrow of life ! £lotf> 151 For to my feeling the choicest of pleasures Is to lie thus, without peril or pain, Lazily listening the musical measures Of the sweet voice in my beautiful brain ! Hush, — for the halo of calmness is spreading Over my spirit as mild as a dove ; Hush, — for the angel of comfort is shedding Over my body his vial of love ; Hush, — for new slumbers are over me stealing, Thus would I court them again and again, Hush, — for my heart is intoxicate, — reeling In the swift waltz of my beautiful brain ! Minify #pcn the casement, and up with the Sun ! His gallant journey is just begun ; Over the hills his chariot is roll'd, Banner' d with glory, and burnish'd with gold,- Over the hills he comes sublime, Bridegroom of Earth, and brother of Time ! Day hath broken, joyous and fair ; Fragrant and fresh is the morning air, — Beauteous and bright those orient hues, Balmy and sweet these early dews ; O, there is health, and wealth, and bliss In dawning Nature's motherly kiss ! 152 Sctfoitg. Lo, the wondering world awakes, With its rosy-tipp'd mountains and gleaming lakes, With its fields and cities, deserts and trees, Its calm old cliffs, and its sounding seas, In all their gratitude blessing Him Who dwelleth between the Cherubim ! Break away boldly from Sleep's leaden chain ; Seek not to forge that fetter again ; llather with vigour and resolute nerve, Up, up, to bless man, and thy Master to serve, Thankful and hopeful, and happy to raise The offering of prayer, and the incense of praise ! Gird thee, and do thy watching well, Duty's Christian sentinel ! Sloth and Slumber never had part In the warrior's will, or the patriot's heart ; Soldier of God on an enemy's shore ! Slumber and sloth thrall thee no more. jfttaiitiirr. &}uiu gladly would I wander through some strange and savage land, The lasso at my saddle-bow, the rifle in my hand, A leash of gallant mastiffs bounding by my side, And, for a friend to love, the noble horse on which I ride ! 9tobmture. 151 Alone, aloue — yet not alone, for God is with me there, The tender hand of Providence shall guide me everywhere, "While happy thoughts and holy hopes, as spirits calm and mild, Shall fan with their sweet wina-s the hermit-hunter of the wild ! n" Without a guide, — yet guided well, — young, buoyant, fresh, and free, Without a road, — yet all the land a highway unto me, Without a care, without a fear, without a grief or pain, Exultingly I thread the woods, or gallop o'er the plain ! Or, brushing through the copse, from his leafy home I start The stately elk, or tusky boar, the bison, or the hart, And then, — with eager spur, to scour, away, away, Nor stop, — until my dogs have brought the glorious brute to bay! Or, if the gang of hungry wolves come yelling on my track, I make my ready rifle speak, aud scare the cowards back ; Or, if the lurking leopard's eyes among the branches shine, A touch upon the trigger — and his spotted skin is mine ! And then the hunter's savoury fare at tranquil eventide, — The dappled deer I shot to-day upon the green hill-side ; My feasted hounds are slumbering round beside the water- course, And plenty of sweet prairie-grass for thee, my noble horse. Hist ! hist ! I heard some prowler snarling in the wood ; I seized my knife and trusty gun, and face to face we stood ! The Grizzly Bear came rushing on, — and, as he rush'd, he fell! "■lie at him, dogs ! my rifle has done its duty well ! 154 Sto&rnturr. Hie at him, dogs ! one bullet cannot kill a foe so grim ; The God of battles nerve a Man to grapple now with him, — And straight between his hugging arms I plunge my whetted knife, Ha — ha ! it splits his iron heart, and drinks the ruddy life ! Frantic struggles — welling blood — the strife is almost o'er, — The shaggy monster, feebly panting, wallows in his gore, — Here, lap it hot, my gallant hounds, — the blood of foes is sweet ; Here, gild withal your dewlapp'd throats, and wash your brawny feet ! So, shall we beard those tyrants in their dens another day, Nor tamely wait, with slavish fear, their coming in the way ; And pleasant thoughts of peace and home shall fill our dreams to-night, For lo, the God of battles has help'd us in the fight ! €\)i long nf liita. 3j2HI)0 shall guess what I may be ? TVho can tell my fortune to me ? For, bravest and brightest that ever was sung May be — and shall be — the lot of the young ! Hope, with her prizes and victories won, Shines in the blaze of my morning sun, Conquering Hope, with golden ray, Blessing my landscape far away ; Ojc J^ong of fifteen. 155 All my meadows and hills are green, And rippling waters glance between, — All my skies are rosy bright, Laughing in triumph at yester-night : My heart, my heart within me swells, Panting, and stirring its hundred wells ; — For youth is a noble seed, that springs Into the flower of heroes and kings ! Rich in the present, though poor in the past, I yearn for the future, vague and vast ; And io ! what treasure of glorious things Giant Futurity sheds from his wings ; Pleasures are there, like dropping balms, And glory and honour with chaplets and palms, And mind well at ease, and gladness, and health, A river of peace, and a mine of wealth ! Away with your counsels, and hinder me not, — On, on let me press to my brilliant lot ; Young and strong, and sanguine and free, How knowest thou what I may be ? /urtif. 211), poor youth ! in pitiful truth, Thy pride must feel a fall, poor youth : What thou shalt be well have I seen,— Thou shalt be only what others have been. 156 dfortii. Haply, within a few swift years, A mind bow'd down with troubles and fears, The commonest drudge of men and things, Instead of your — conquering heroes and kings ; Haply, to follies an early wreck, — For the cloud of presumption is now like a speck, And with a whelming, sudden sweep The storm of temptation roars over the deep ; Lower the sails of pride, rash youth, — Stand to the lowly tiller of truth ; Quick, or your limber bark shall be The sport of the winds on a stormy sea. Care and peril in lieu of joy, — Guilt and dread may be thine, proud boy : Lo, thy mantling chalice of life Is foaming with sorrow, and sickness, and strife ; Cheated by pleasure, and sated with pain,— Watching for honour, and watching in vain, — Aching in heart, and ailing in head, Wearily earning daily bread. — It is well. I discern a tear on thy cheek : It is well, — thou art humbled, and silent, and meek Now, — courage again ! and, with peril to cope, Gird thee with vigour, and helm thee with hope ! For life, good youth, hath never an ill Which hope cannot scatter, and faith cannot kill ; And stubborn realities never shall bind The free-spreadiug wings of a cheerful mind. 157 €1)2 Inng nf Irntnttf. 3 <*m not old, — I cannot be old, Though threescore years and ten Have wasted away, like a tale that is told, The lives of other men : I am not old ; though friends and foes Alike have gone down to their graves, And left me alone to my joys or my woes, As a rock in the midst of the waves : I am not old, — I cannot be old, Though tottering, wrinkled, and grey ; Though my eyes are dim, and my marrow is cold Call me not old to-day. For, early memories round me throng, Old times, and manners, and men, As I look behind on my journey so long Of threescore miles and ten ; I look behind, and am once more young, Buoyant, and brave, and bold, And my heart can sing, as of yore it sung, Before they call'd me old. I do not see her — the old wife there — Shrivell'd, and haggard, and grey, But I look on her blooming, and soft, and fair, As she was on her wedding-day : 158 Cf)c J^oncj of J?cimitD. I do not see you, daughters and sons, In the likeness of women and men, But I kiss you now as I kissed you once, My fond little children then : And, as my own grandson rides on my knee, Or plays with his hoop or kite, I can well recollect I was merry as he — The bright-eyed little wight ! 'Tis not long since, — it cannot be long, — My years so soon were spent, Since I was a boy, both straight and strong, Yet now am I feeble and bent. A dream, a dream, — it is all a dream ! A strange, sad dream, good sooth ; For old as I am, and old as I seem, My heart is full of youth : Eye hath not seen, tongue hath not told, And ear hath not heard it sung, How buoyant and bold, though it seem to grow old, Is the heart, for ever young ; For ever young, — though life's old age Hath every nerve unstrung ; The heart, the heart is a heritage That keeps the old man young ! 159 Sluay with false fashion, so calm and so chill, "Where pleasure itself cannot please ; Away with cold breeding, that faithlessly still Affects to be quite at its ease ; For the deepest in feeling is highest in rank, The freest is first of the band, And nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, Is a man with his heart in his hand ! Fearless in honesty, gentle yet just, He warmly can love, — and can hate, Nor will he bow down with his face in the dust To Fashion's intolerant state : For best in good breeding, and highest in rank, Though lowly or poor in the land, Is nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank, The man with his heart in Ids hand ! Ills fashion is passion, sincere and intense, His impulses, simple and true, Yet temper'd by judgment, and taught by good sense, And cordial with me, and with you : For the finest in manners, as highest in rank, It is you, man ! or you, man ! who stand Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank,— A man with his heart in his hand! 1G0 St&t gitrc tip ! ffitbtv give up ! it is wiser and better Always to hope, than once to despair ; Fling off the load of Doubt's heavy fetter, And break the dark spell of tyrannical care : Never give tip ! or the burthen may sink you, — Providence kindly has mingled the cup, And in all trials or troubles, bethink you, The watchword of life must be, Never give up ! Never give up ! there are chances and changes Helping the hopeful a hundred to one, And through the chaos High Wisdom arranges Ever success, — if you'll only hope on : Never give up ! for the wisest is boldest, Knowing that Providence mingles the cup, And of all maxims the best, as the oldest, Is the true watchword of Never give up ! Never give up ! — though the grape-shot may rattle, Or the full thunder-cloud over you burst, Stand like a rock, — and the storm or the battle Little shall harm you, though doing their worst : Never give up ! — if adversity presses, Providence wisely has mingled the cup, And the best counsel, in all your distresses, Is the stout watchword of Never give up ! 1G1 tf Itllt. ISI.ltnr not, ye million worshippers of gold — Modern idolators — their works and ways, When Asia's children, in the times of old, Knelt to the sun, outpouring prayer and praise As to God's central throne ; for when the blaze Of that grand eye is on me, and I stand "Watching its majesty with painful gaze, I too could kneel among that Persian band, Had not the Architect of yon bright sphere Taught me Himself; bidding me look above, Beneath, around, aud still to find Him— here ! King of the heart, dwelling in no fixt globe, But gladly throned within the spirit of love, Wearing that light ethereal as a robe. €\)i 3Unnu. 3J Uncfo thee not, Moon, — thou cavern'd realm, Sad satellite, a giant ash of death, "Where cold, alternate, and the sulphurous breath Of ravaging volcanoes, overwhelm All chance of life like ours, — art thou not Some fallow world, after a reaping time Of creatures' judgment, resting in thy lot? Or haplier must I take thee for the blot On God's fair firmament, the home of crime, The prison-house of sin, where damned souls Feed upon punishment ?— O thought sublime, That, amid Night's black deeds, when evil prowls Through the broad world, then, watching sinners well, Glares over all the wakeful eye of— Hell ! 51 1G2 €\)i liars. dfar-flamtnrj stars, ye sentinels of Space, Patient and silent ministers around Your Queen, the moon, whose melancholy face Seems ever pale with pity and grief profound Tor sinful Earth, — I, a poor groveller here, A captive eagle chain'd to this dull ground, Look up and love your light in hope and fear; Hope, that among your myriad host is one, A kingdom for my spirit, a bright place Where I shall reign when this short race is run, An heir of joy, and glory's mighty son ! Yet, while I hope, the fear will freeze my brain — What if indeed for worthless me remain No waiting sceptre, no predestined throne ? (Dnr lingnnm. SjCllCf , doubts of darkness ! I am not mine own, But ransom'd by the King of that bright host : In Him my just humility shall boast, And claim through Him that sceptre and that throne. Yes, world of light, — when by the booming sea At eve I loiter on this shingly coast, In seeming idleness, — I gaze on thee, (I know not which — but one,) fated to be My glorious heritage, my heavenly home, A temple and a paradise for me, Whence my celestial form at will may roam To other worlds, unthought and unexplored, Whose atmosphere is bliss and liberty, The palaces and gardens of the Lord ! 163 $zt$m nnli Argil £ZUl)m streams of unkind ness, as bitter as gall, Bubble up from the heart to the tongue, And Meekness is writhing in torment and thrall, By the hands of Ingratitude wrung, — In the heat of injustice, unwept and unfair, While the anguish is festering yet, None, none but an angel or God can declare " I now can forgive and forget." 'o' But, if the bad spirit is chased from the heart, And the lips are in penitence steep'd, With the wrong so repented the wrath will depart, Though scorn on injustice were heap'd; For the best compensation is paid for all ill, When the cheek with contrition is wet, And every one feels it is possible still At once to forgive and forget. To forget ? It is hard for a man with a mind, However his heart may forgive, To blot out all insults and evils behind, And but for the future to live : Then how shall it be ? for at every turn Recollection the spirit will fret, And the ashes of injury smoulder and burn, Though we strive to forgive and forget. 164 jForcjtbc ant* dforgct. Oh, hearken ! my tongue shall the riddle unseal, And mind shall be partner with heart, While thee to thyself I bid conscience reveal, And show thee how evil thou art : Remember thy follies, thy sins, and — thy crimes, How vast is that infinite debt ! Yet Mercy hath seven by seventy times Been swift to forgive and forget ! Brood not on insults or injuries old, Tor thou art injurious too, — Count not their sum till the total is told, For thou art unkind aud untrue : And if all thy harms are forgotten, forgiven, Now mercy with justice is met, Oh, who would not gladly take lessons of heaven, Nor learn to forgive and forget ? 'o' Yes, yes ; let a man, when his enemy weeps, Be quick to receive him a friend ; For thus on his head in kindness he heaps Hot coals, — to refine and amend ; And hearts that are Christian more eagerly yearn, As a nurse on her innocent pet, Over lips that, once bitter, to penitence turn, And whisper, Forgive and forget. 165 " jBq aW in m a lingta is. 7 ' CBurcIta ! this is truth sublime, Defying change, outwrestling time — Eureka ! well that truth is told, Wisely spake the bard of old — Eureka ! there is peace and praise In this short and simple phrase, A sea of comforts, wide and deep, Wherein my conscious soul to steep, A hoard of happy-making wealth To doat on, miserly, by stealth, Through Time my reason's ripest fruit, Eor all eternity its root, Earth's harvest, and the seed of heaven, To me, to me, by mercy given ! Yes, Eureka, — I have found it, And before the world will sound it ; This remains, and still shall stay When life's gauds have past away, This, of old my treasure-truth, The bosom joy that warm'd my youth, My happiness in manhood's prime, My triumph down the stream of time, Till death shall lull this heart in age, And deathless glory crown my page, My grace-born truth and treasure this,— " My mind to mc a kingdom is." 166 #fo ffiirili*6 IMngfiom. Noble solace, true and strong, Great reward for human wrong, With an inward blessing still To compensate all earthly ill, To recompense for adverse fates, Woes, or wants, or scorns, or hates, To cherish, after man's neglect, When foes deride, and friends suspect, To soothe and bless the spirit bow'd Down by the selfish and the proud, To lift the soul above this scene Of petty troubles trite and mean, there is moral might in this, — " My mind to me a kingdom is." Carve it deep, with letters bold, In the imperishable gold, Grave it on some primal rock That hath stood the earthquake shock, Make that word a citizen Dwelling in the hearts of men, Stamp it on the printed page, Sound it in the ears of age, Gladden sympathising youth With the soft music of this truth, This echo'd note of heavenly bliss, "My mind to me a kingdom is." Aye, chide or scorn, — I will be proud, — 1 am not of the common crowd ; No serf is here to outward things, — He rules with chiefs ! he reigns with kinsrs ! i&v $&irili'8 Untenant. 1G7 Tell out tlij secret joys, my mind, Free and fearless as the wind, And pour the triumphs of the soul In words that like a river roll, Foaming on with vital force From their ever-gushing source, Fountains of truth, that overwhelm With swollen streams this royal realm, And iu Nilotic richness steep My heart's Thebaid, rank and deep ! Or bolder, as my thoughts inspire, Change that water into fire ! From the vext bowels of my soul Lava currents roar and roll, Bursting out in torrent wide Through my crater's ragged side, Hushing on from field to field Till all with boiling stone is seal'd, And my hot thoughts, iu language pent, Stand their own granite monument ! Yes ! all the elements are mine, To crush, create, dissolve, combine, — All mine, — the confidence is just, On Gon I ground my high-born trust To stand, when pole is rent from pole, Calm in my majesty of soul, Watching the throes of this wreck'd world, When from their thrones the Alps are huii'd, "When fire consumes earth, sea and air, To stand, unharm'd, undaunted there, 1GS jflffo @iiYto'4 mtnrjttom. And grateful still to boast in this, " My mind to me a kingdom is." Brother poet, dead so long, Heed these echoes to thy song, And love me now, where'er thou art, Yearning with magnetic heart From thy throne in some bright sphere On this poor brother, grovelling here : Tor I too, I, can stoutly sing I am every inch a king ! A king of Thought, a Potentate Of glorious spiritual state, A king of Thought, a king of Mind, Realms unmapp'd and undefined, — A King ! beneath no Man's control, Invested with a royal soul, Crown' d by God's imperial hand Before Him as a King to stand, And by His wisdom train'd and taught To rule my realms as King of Thought. O thoughts, — how ill my fellow-men, O thoughts, — how scantly my poor pen Can guess or tell the myriad host Wherewith you crowd my kingdom's coast ! For I am hemm'd and throng'd about With your triumphant rabble-rout, Hurried along by that mad flood, The joy-excited multitude, A conqueror, borne upon the foam Of his great people's gladness home, iHi) {BUrto'* SmstJom. ICO A monarch in his grandest state, On whom a thousand thousand wait ! Lo! they come — my Tribes of Thought, Fierce and flush'd and fever-fraught ! From the horizon all around I hear with pride their coming sound ; See ! their banners circling near, — Glittering groves of shield and spear, Flying clouds of troopers gay, Serried lines in dark array, Veterans calm with temper'd sword, And a dishevell'd frantic horde, — On they come with furious force, Tramping foot, and thundering horse, On they come, converging loud, With clanging arms, a glorious crowd, Shouting impatient, fierce and free, For me their Monarch, yea, for me ! Then, in my majesty and power, I quell the madness of the hour, Bid that tumultuous turmoil cease, And frown my multitudes to peace. Each to his peril and his post ! All hush'd throughout my mighty host : Courage clear, and duty stern, — Heads that freeze and hearts that burn ; Marshall'd straight in order due, Legions ! pass in swift review, Bending to my blazon'd "Will, Loyal to that standard still, 170 {Ho flJmTTs Bmgfcom. And hailing me with homage then King of Thoughts — and thus, of Men ! What ? am I powerless to control Nations, by my single soul ? What ? have I not made thousands thrill By the mere impulse of my will, When the strong Thought goes forth, and binds Captive a wondering herd of minds ? And is not this to reign alone More than the ermine and the throne, The jewell' d state, the gilded rooms, The mindless jay in peacock plumes ? Yes, — if the inmate soul outweighs Its dull clay house in power and praise, Yes, — if Eternity be true, And Time both false and fleeting too, Then, humbler kings, my boast be this, " My mind to me a kingdom is." And what, though weak and slow of speech, 111 to comfort, dull to teach ? What, though hiding from the ken Of my small prying fellow-men, — Still within my musing mind Wisdom's secret stores I find, And, little noticed, sweetly feed On hidden manna, meat indeed, Blessed thoughts I never told Unconsider'd, uncontroll'd, Bushing by as thick and fast As autumn leaves upon the blast, {Hi? {&ivto'& Etng;t)om. 171 Or better like the gracious rain Dropping on some thirsty plain. And is not this to be a king, To carry in my heart a spring Of ceaseless pleasures, deep and pure, Wealth cannot buy, nor power procure ? Yea, — by the poet's artless art, And the sweet searchings of his heart, By his unknown unheeded bliss, " My mind to me a kingdom is." Place me on some desert shore Foot of man ne'er wander' d o'er ; Lock me in a lonely cell Beneath some prison citadel ; Still, here or there, within I find My quiet kingdom of the Mind : Kay, — mid the tempest fierce and dark, Float me on peril's frailest bark, My quenchless soul could sit and think And smile at danger's dizziest brink : And wherefore ? — God, my God, is still King of kings in good and ill, And where He dwelleth— everywhere— Safety supreme and peace are there ; And where He reigneth — all around — Wisdom, and love, and power are found, And reconciled to Him and bliss, " My mind to me a kingdom is." Thus for my days ; each waking hour Grand with majesty and power, 172 {By jflftfott'* Btncjfcom. Every minute rich iu treasure, Gems of peace, and pearls of pleasure. And for my nights — those wondrous nights ! How manifold my Mind's delights, When the young truant, gladly caught In its own labyrinths of thought, Finds there another realm to ranee, The dynasties of Chance and Change. O dreams, — what know I net of dreams ? Their name, their very essence, seems A tender light, not dark nor clear, A sad sweet mystery wild and dear, A dull soft feeling unexplaiu'd, A lie half true, a truth half feign'd : O dreams, — what know I not of dreams ? When Reason, with inebriate gleams, Looses from his wise control The prancing Fancies of the soul, And sober Judgment, slumbering still, Sets free Caprice to guide the Will. Within one night have I not spent Years of adventurous banishment, Strangely groping like the blind In the dark caverns of my mind ? Have I not dwelt, from eve till morn, Lifetimes iu length for praise or scorn, With fancied joys, ideal woes, And all sensation's warmest glows, Wondrously thus expanding Life Through seeming scenes of peace or strife, Until I verily reign sublime, A great creative king of Time ? ' {Bv &LinV& fttnguom. 173 And there are people, things, and places, Usual themes, familiar faces, A second life, that looks as real As this dull world's own unideal, Another life of dreams by night, That, still forgotten, wanes in light, Yet seems itself to wake and sleep, And in that sleep dreams doubly deep, While those same dreams may dream anon, Tangled mazes wandering on ! Yes, I have often, weak and worn, Feebly waked at earliest morn, As a shipwreck'd sailor, tost By the wild waves on some rough coast, Of perils past remembering nought But some dim cataracts of thought, And only roused betimes to know That yesterday seems years ago ! And I can apprehend full well What old Pythagoras could tell Of other scenes, and other climes, And other Selfs in other times ; Tor, oft my consciousness has reel'd "With scores of " Bichmonds in the field," As, multiform, with no surprise, I see myself in other guise, And wonderlcss walk side by side With mine own soul, self-multiplied ! If it be royal then to reign Over an infinite domain, If it be more than monarch can To lengthen out the life of man, 174 {Bd fHtttVs Hmcjoom. Yea, if a godlike thing it be To revel in ubiquity, Is there but empty boast in this, " My mind to me a kingdom is ? " — reace, rash fool ; be proud no more, Count thy faults and follies o'er, Turn aside, and note within Thy secret charnel-house of Sin, Thy bitter heart, thy covetous mind, Evil thoughts, and words unkind : Can so foul and mean a thing Reign a spiritual King ? Art thou not — yea thou, myself, In hope a slave to pride and pelf ? Art thou not, — yea thou, my mind, Weak and naked, poor and blind ? Yea, be humble ; yea, be still ; Meekly bow that rebel Will ; Seek not selfishly for praise ; Go more softly all thy days ; Tor to thee belongs no power, Wretched insect of an hour, — And if God, in bounteous dole, Hath grafted life upon thy soul, Know thou, there is out of Him Nor light in mind, nor might in limb ; And, but for One, who from the grave Of sin and death stood forth to save, Thy mind, that royal mind, of thine, So great, ambitious, and divine, fH» IBtnU's- Stitgtooni. 175 Would but a root of anguish be, A madness and a misery, A bitter fear, a hideous care All too terrible to bear, Kingly, — but king of pains and woes, The sceptred slave to throbs and throes ! Justly then, my God, to Thee, My royal soul shall bend the knee, My royal soul, Thy glorious breath, By Thee set free from guilt and death, Before Thy majesty bows down, Offering the homage of her crown, Well pleased to sing in better bliss, " My God to me a kingdom is." 'faring (Cjinrrlj. ;£Hotl)Cr, — beneath fair Tarring's heavenward spire, Where in old years thy youthful vows were paid, When God had granted thee thy heart's desire, And she went forth a wife, who came a maid, With mindful steps thus wisely have we stray'd, Full of deep thoughts : for where that sacred fire Of Love was kindled, in the self-same spot, Thou, with the dear companion of thy lot, Thy helpmate all those years, mine honour'd sire, To-day have found fulfill'd before your eyes The promise of old time ; — look round and see Your children's children ! lo, these babes arise, And call you blessed : Blessed both be ye ! And in your blessing bless ye these, and me. 176 \i sitmr. June 29, 1848. Jfct* memories, and prayer, and pious thought Of days departed, and the dear ones dead, Tarring, once more thy sacred walls I sought : So, to some native spot, some genial bed, The botanist goes forth to seek and find His curious fern or lichen ; so, my mind In melancholy pleasure wisely taught Culls here its rarest weed : with tender care Gather it up and store it. Years ago Prom this old choir a young and loving pair Went out just wedded ; and the glittering show Of pleasure, wealth, aud promise glad and gay, Pass'd through these portals: — God was with you there, My Father and my Mother ! — these were They. €\)i mm !$lm rnirj Drit[. £Kotl)CV ! this day, one little year agone, Thy spirit pass'd from pain to peacefulncss : Look down then in thy love, and smile upon My duteous pilgrimage ; look down aud bless In thine own tender love of old, thy son. For in this spot, where on thy bridal-dress The villagers threw flowers, now my heart, To honour thee, where'er in bliss thou art, Pours forth its deep libation. Many years Have sped away, and thou, the blushing bride, After long sojourn down this vale of tears With him thy lover ever at thy side, Didst reap the promise of that word to thee Fulfill'd,— "Thy children's children thou shdt see." 177 §nm\, m it %ufy. 2U length, — a dreary length of many years, God's favour hath shone forth ! and blest thee well, O handmaid of the Lord, for all thy tears, Eor all thy prayers, and hope, and faith — and fears, With that best treasure of consummate joy A childless wife alone can fully tell How sorely long withheld — her first-boru boy : This blessing is from heav'n ; to heav'n once more, Another Hannah with her Samuel, Render thou back the talent yielding ten, A spirit, train'd right early to adore, A heart, to yearn upon its fellow-men, A being, meant and made for endless heaven, This, give to God ; this, God to thee hath given. Ihtitf. J3rarl3 before swine : this is an old complaint ; In very humbleness and not in pride The spirit feels it true ; yet makes a feint To rest with man's neglect well satisfied, And have its wealth of words, its stores of thought, Despised or unregarded : woe betide The heart that lives on praise ! considering nought Of Duty's royal edicts, that command Thy talents to be lent, thy lamp to shine : Soul, be not faint ; nor, body, stay thy hand ; Heed only this, — not whether those be swine, But whether these be pearls, precious and pure ; That so, whatever fate the world make thine, "With God for Judge, thy guerdon be secure. N 178 €nml TOR MUSIC. C!)Ct*C is a time for praising, And a better time for pray'r, — The heart its anthem raisin?, Or uttering its care : One minute is for smiling, Another for the tear, — Hope, by turns, beguiling, Or her haggard brother, Fear. But, if in joy thou praisest The generous Hand that gave,— And if in woe thou raisest The pray'r that He may save ; Thy griefs shall seem all pleasure As the chidings of a Friend, And thy joy's ecstatic measure A beginning without end ! TOR MUSIC. B neber left the place that knew me, And may never know me more, Where the cords of kindness drew me, And have gladden'd me of yore, But my secret soul has smarted With a feeling full of gloom For the days that are departed Aud the place I call'd my Home. I&ome. 179 I am not of those who wander Unaffection'd here and there, But my heart must still be fonder Of my sites of joy or care ; And I point sad memory's finger (Though my faithless foot may roam) Where I've most been made to linger In the place I call'd my Home. FOR MUSIC. " 3Lrt byegones be byegones,"— they foolishly say, And bid me be wise and forget them ; But old recollections are active to-day, And I can do nought but regret them : Though the present be pleasant, all joyous and gay, And promising well for the morrow, I love to look back on the years past away, Embalming my byegones in sorrow. If the morning of life has a mantle of grey, Its noon will be blyther and brighter ; If March has its storm, there is sunshine in May, And light out of darkness is lighter : Thus the present is plcasaut, a cheerful to-day, With a wiser, a soberer gladness, Because it is tinged with the mellowing ray Of a yesterday's sunset of sadness. 180 t\nk, !Mmmk ! A STIRRING SONG FOR PATRIOTS, IN THE YEAR I860. To the tune of " Wha wouldna fight for Charlie .' " %\i£t ! ye gallant youth of Britain, Gather to your country's call, On your hearts her name is written, Rise to help her, one and all ! Cast away each feud and faction, Brood not over wrong nor ill, — Bouse your virtues into action, For we love our country still, — Hail, Britannia ! hail, Britannia ! Baise that thrilling shout once more, Bule, Britannia ! Rule, Britannia, Conqueror over sea and shore ! France is coining, full of bluster, Hot to wipe away her stain, Therefore, brothers, here we muster Just to give it her again ! And if foemen, blind with fury, Dare to cross our ocean-gulf, Wait not then for judge nor jury, — Shoot them as you would a wolf ! For Britannia, just Britannia, Claims our chorus as before, Rule, Britannia ! Rule, Britannia ! Conqueror over sea and shore. &ule, Britannia. 181 They may writhe, for we have gall'd them With our guns in every clime, — They may hate us, for we call'd them Serfs and subjects in old time ! Boasting Gaul, we calmly scorn you As old iEsop's bull the frogs, Come and welcome ! for, we warn you, We shall fling vou to our dosjs ! Tor Britannia, our Britannia, Thunders with a lion's roar, Rule, Britannia ! Rule, Britannia ! Conqueror over sea and shore. See, uprear'd our holy standard ! Crowd around it, gallant hearts ! What ? should Britain's fame be slander'd As by fault on our parts ? Let the rabid Frenchman threaten, Let the mad invader come, We will hunt them out of Britain, Or can die for hearth and home ! For Britannia, dear Britannia Wakes our chorus evermore, Rule, Britannia ! Rule, Britaunia ! Conqueror over sea and shore. Rise then, patriots ! name endearing, Flock from Scotland's moors and dales, From the green glad fields of Erin, From the mountain homes of Wales, — 182 mile, Britannia. Rise ! for sister England calls you, Rise ! our commonweal to serve, Rise ! while now the song enthralls you, Thrilling every vein and nerve, Hail, Britannia ! hail, Britannia ! Conquer, as thou didst of yore ! Rule, Britannia ! Rule, Britannia ! Over every sea and shore. CjnJ Emigrant fjjiji. TOR MUSIC. dfar away, far away, The emigrant ship must sail to-day : Cruel ship, — to look so gay Bearing the exiles far away. Sad and sore, sad and sore, Many a fond heart bleeds at the core : Cruel dread, — to meet no more, Bitter sorrow, sad and sore. Many years, many years At best will they battle with perils and fears : Cruel pilot, — for he steers The exiles away for many years. CIjc Emigrant JHjt'p. 183 Long ago, long ago ! For the days that arc gone their tears shall flow : Cruel hour, — to tear them so From all they cherish' d long ago. Fare ye well, fare ye well ! To joy and to hope it sounds as a knell : Cruel tale it were to tell How the exile sighs farewell. Far away, far away ! Is there indeed no hope to-day ? Cruel and false it were to say There are no pleasures far away. Far away, far away ! Every night and every day Kiud and wise it were to pray, God be with them far away ! 'nib. f^oiu liave I done my work ! — which not Jove's ire Can make undone, nor sword, nor time, nor fire. Whene'er that day, whose only powers extend Against this body, my brief life shall end, Still in my better portion evermore Above the stars undying shall I soar ! Mv name shall never die : but through all time, Wherever Rome shall reach a eonquer'd clime, There, in that people's tongue, shall this my page Be read and glorified from age to age ; — Yea, if the bodings of my spirit give True note of inspiration, I shall live ! Ovid. Met. subfinem. Eottcri) tickets every day, — And ever drawn a blank : Yet none the less we pant and pray For prizes in that bank : Morn by morn, and week by week, They cheat us, or amuse, Whilst on we fondly hope, and seek Some stirring daily news. The heedless postman on his path Is scattering joys and woes ; He bears the seeds of life and death, And drops them as he goes ! 186 £o:3t4tcttc«J. I never note him trudging near Upon his common track, But all my heart is hope, or fear, With visions bright, or black ! I hope — what hope I not ? — vague things Of wondrous possible good ; I dread — as vague imaginings, A very viper's brood : Fame's sunshine, fortune's golden dews May now be hovering o'er, — Or the pale shadow of ill news Be cowering at my door ! Mystery, master-key to life, Thou spring of every hour, 1 love to wrestle in thy strife, And tempt thy perilous power ; I love to know that none can know What this day may briug forth, What bliss for me, for me what woe Is travailing iu birth ! 'o See, on my neighbour's threshold stands Yon careless common man, Bearing, perchance, in those coarse hands — My Being's alter' d plan ! My germs of pleasure, or of pain, Of trouble, or of peace, May there lie thick as drops of rain Distill'd from Gideon's fleece ! =Po$t4Lcttmf. 187 Who kuowctli ? may not loves be dead, — Or those we loved laid low, — Who knoweth ? may not wealth be fled, And all the world my foe ? Or who can tell if Fortune's hour (Which once on all doth shine) Be not within this morning's dower, A prosperous morn of mine ? Ah, cold Reality ! — in spite Of hopes, and endless chance, That bitter postman, ruthless wight, Has cheated poor Romance : No letters ! O the dreary phrase : Another day forlorn : — And thus I wend upon my ways To watch another morn. Cease, babbler '.—let those doubtings cease : What? should a son of heaven With the pure manna of his Peace Mix up this faithless leaven ? Not so '.—for in the hands of God, And in none earthly will, Abides alike my staff, and rod, My good, and seeming ill. 18S iHalu haste, make haste, my prudent little friends ! You lag behind the world, botli blind and halt, — For your own credit leave off finding fault, And wisely bustle up to make amends : Look you ! time was, when even such small salt As your encouragement and speaking fair "Would have been prized and grateful ; savouring well The taste of bitterness, the touch of care The proud young spirit felt, but scorn'd to tell, "When, keenly sensitive of man's despite, While conscious that from kinder Heav'n above A gift had been vouchsafed of purest light, That spirit coveted your looks of love, And yearn'd around, and ye refused his Right. ®lnrolt0. ^ft were there other some, the generous few Kindly prophetic, helping with their praise Balmy and precious as the morning dew Or early sunshine in those anxious days : All thanks, all thanks ! — I now can shine on you; And love you for the love that linger'd not Till honour and success hath wreath 'd my pen, Till God had seal'd to me a blessed lot, — That pleasant heritage, the hearts of men. All thanks, ye noble souls ! Behold, the rill Your dewy praise did graciously distil Soon gather'd to a stream, and swelling then Grew to a river, and that river wide Far out to sea now rolls its ceaseless tide. 189 5lpnlngt[ tn nil. — dfor I have sinn'd ; oh, grievously and often : Exaggerated ill, and good denied ; Blacken'd the shadows only born to soften ; And Truth's own light unkindly misapplied : Alas for charities unloved, uncherish'd, When some stern judgment, haply erring wide, Hath sent my fancy forth, to dream and tell Other men's deeds all evil ! Oh, my heart, Renew once more thy generous youth half perish'd, Be wiser, kindlier, better than thou art ! And first, in fitting meekness, offer well All earnest, candid prayers, to be forgiven Tor worldly, harsh, unjust, unloveable Thoughts and suspicions against Man and Heaven ! Iarifft[. SllasS, we do but act ; we are not free : The presence of another is a chain My trammell'd spirit strives to break, in vain : How strangely different myself from me ! Thoughtful in solitude, serenely blest, Crown'd and enthroned in mental majesty, Equal to all things great, and daring all, I muse of mysteries, and am at rest : But in the midst, some dull intruded guest Topples me from my heights, holding in thrall With his hard eye the traitor in my breast, That before humbler intellects is cow'd, Silently shrinking from the common crowd, And only with the highest self-possest. 190 (Drighml ^rnltigttf, TO ANONYMOUS POEMS. iHl) heart presents her gift : in turn, of thee I ask a little time, an idle hour, Kindly to spend with these my thoughts and me, Wooing the fragrance of the Muses' bower : Not without crest or coat, yet nameless now, As one to earn his spurs, and prove his power, A candidate unknown, with vizor'd brow, Bearing no charge upon mine argent shield, Full of young hopes, I dare the tented field ! — Not so : this is no time for measuring swords ; Thou art no craven, though thy spirit yield, For yonder arc fair looks, and friendly words : Choose a more peaceful image : — here reveal'd, Taste a small sample of my humble hoards. <0ptap*. £!t'C there no sympathies, no loves between us ? Is my hope vain ? — I have not vext thee long, Nor lent thee thoughts from God and good that wean us, Nor given thee words that warp from right to wrong : And if, at times, my too triumphant song Hath seem'd self-praise,— doth it indeed demean us, That when a man feels hotly at his heart The quick spontaneous fire of thoughts and words, He will not play the hypocrite's ill part, Flinging aside the meed his mind affords ? No ! with all gratitude and humbleness I claim mine own ; nor can affect to scorn A gift, of my Creator's goodness born, His grace to give, my glory to possess. 191 33itrfttut0, lit PUBLISHED IN ISIS. Ci)C old man he is dead, young heir, And gone to his long account ; Come, stand on his hearth, and sit in his chair, And into his saddle mount ! The old man's face was a face to be fear'd, But thine both loving and gay ; who would not choose for that stern white beard, A bright young cheek alway ? The old man he had outlived them all, His friends, he said, were gone ; But hundreds are wassailing now in the hall, And true friends every one ! The old man moan'd both sore and long Of pleasures past, he said ; But pleasures to come are the young heir's song, The living, not the dead ! The old man babbled of old regrets, Alack ! how much he owed : But the young heir has not a feather of debts His heart withal to load ! 192 CIjc £clu f>cat\ The old man used to shudder, and seem Remembering secret sin ; But the happy young heir is as if in a dream, Paradise all within ! Alas ! for the old man, — where is he now ? And fear for thyself, young heir ; For he was innoceut once as thou, As ruddy and blythe and fair : Reap wisdom from his furrow'd face, Cull counsel from his fear ; O speed thee, young heir, in gifts and in grace, And blessings on thee, — New Year ! $11 '3 for the best ! be sanguine and cheerful, Trouble and sorrow are friends in disguise, Nothing but Folly goes faithless and fearful, Courage for ever is happy and wise : All for the best, — if a man would but know it Providence wishes us all to be blest, This is no dream of the pundit or poet, Heaven is gracious, and— All's for the best ! All for the best ! set this on your standard, Soldier of sadness, or pilgrim of love, Who to the shores of Despair may have wander'd, A waywearied swallow, or heartstricken dove : mVi for ti)t best ! 193 All for the best ! — be a man but confiding, Providence tenderly governs the rest, And the frail bark of His creature is guiding Wisely and warily all for the best. All for the best ! then fling away terrors, Meet all your fears and your foes in the van, And in the midst of your dangers or errors Trust like a child, while you strive like a man : All's for the best ! — unbiass'd, unbounded, Providence reigns from the East to the "West ; And, by both wisdom and mercy surrounded, Hope and be happy that All's for the best ! €ty ftftirit rritiu £23orIo' of sorrow, care, and change, Even to myself I seem, As adown thy vale I range, Wandering in a dream : All things are so strange. Eor, the dead who died this day, Eair and young, or great and good, Though we mourn them, where are they ? — With those before the flood ; Equally past away ! o 191 Ei)t S&ittttU watt. Living hearts have scantly time To feel some other heart most dear, Scarce can love the love sublime Unselfishly sincere, — Death nips it in its prime ! Minds have hardly power to learn How much there is to know aright, Can dimly through the mist discern Some little glimpse of light, — The order is, Beturn ! Willing hands but just begin Wisely to work for God and man, And some poor wages barely win As one who well began,— The Master calls, Come in ! Well, — this is well : for well begun Is all the good man here may do ; He cannot hope to see half done ; A furlong is crept through, And lo, the goal is won ! This is the life of sight and sense, And other brighter lives depend On all we here can just commence ; But long before an end God calls His servant hence. Take courage, courage : not in vain The Buler hath appointed thus ; Account it neither grief nor pain His mercy spareth us — It is the labourer's gain. Cfjc S&tUfclc rtatf. 195 Here we begin to love and know ; And when God's willing grace perceives The plant of Heav'n hath roots to grow, He plucks the ranker leaves, And doth transplant it so ! (Dill Jtants. FOE MUSIC. 3J Iot)C to linger on my track Wherever I have dwelt and parted, In after years to loiter back, And feel as once I felt, — young-hearted ! My foot falls lightly on the sward Yet leaves a deathless dint behind it, 'With tenderness I still reerard Its uuforgotten print, to find it ! Old places have a charm for me The new can ne'er attain, for ever, Old faces — how I long to see Those looks that here can greet me never ! Yet, these are gone : — while all around Is changing with each changing hour, I'll anchor on the solid ground And root my memories there in power ! 196 Clu %Mt nf linltfo A Military Ballad. f)f cliildren of the veterans Who fought for faithless Spain, And for ungrateful Portugal Pour'd out their blood like rain, — Come near me, and hear me, For I would tell you well How gallantly your fathers fought, Or gloriously they fell ! I sing Roleia' s bloody strife, The first of many frays, When iron Wellesley led us on Invincible always; Roleia gay and evergreen, Festoon'd with vines and flowers, Roleia, scorch'd and blood-bedew'd, — And half that blood was ours ! The seventeenth of August It shone out bright and clear, And still we press'd the Frenchman's flank, And hung upon his rear ; From Brilos and Obidos Had we driven the bold Laborde, And now among the mountain rocks We sought him with the sword ! Cljf 33 attic of l&oleia. 197 All golden is the plain with wheat, All purple are the hills "With luscious vineyards ripe and sweet, And laced with crystal rills ; Yet must the rills run down with gore, The corn be trampled red, Before Roleia's threshing-floor Is glutted with her dead ! O cheerily the bugles spoke, And all our hearts beat high When over Monte Junto broke The sun upon the sky ; Right early from Obidos We gladly sallied then A goodly host, in columns three, Of fourteen thousand men. Brave Ferguson led on the left, And Trant the flanking right, With iron Arthur in the midst, The focus of the fight ; And fast by Wellesley's gallant side The Craufurd rode amain, And Hill, the British soldier's pride, And Nightingale, and Bane. Crouching like a tiger, In his high and rocky lair, The Frenchman howl'd and show'd his teeth And — wish'd he wasn't there : 198 CIjc Eattlc of Moleta. For Craufurd, Hill, aud Nightingale Hew at him as he lay, And up our gallant fellows sprang As bloodhounds on the prey. And look ! we hunt the bold Labor de To Zambugeira's height, — While Trant with Fane and Ferguson Outflank him left and right ; And then with cheers we charge the front, With cheers the foe reply, — No child's play was that battle brunt, We swore to win or die ! Rattled loud the muskets' roar, — We struggled man to man, — The rugged rocks were wash'd iu gore, With gore the gullies ran ! Fiercely through those mountain paths Our bloody way we force, — And find in strength upon the heights The Frenchman, foot and horse : Ah, then, my Ninth, and Twenty-ninth, Your courage was too hot, For down on your disorder'd ranks Secure they pour the shot ; But all their horse and foot and guns Could never make you fly, — The losing Frenchman fights and runs, But Britons fight— and die ! Crje Battle of ftoleta. 109 Up to the rescue, Ferguson ! And keep the hard-fought hill ; Their chiefs are pick'd off, one by one, And lo, they rally still ; They rally, and rush stoutly on, — The bold Laborde gives way, — The day is lost ! the day is won ! And ours is the day ! Then well retreating sage and slow Alternately in mass With charging horse, the wily foe Gains Runa's rocky pass ; And left us thus Roleia's field, With other fields in store, Vimiera, Torres Vedras, And half a hundred more ! ?t?0h) many years are fled, — How many friends are dead : Alas, how fast The past hath past, — How speedily life bath sped ! Places, that knew mc of yore, Know me for theirs no more ; And sore at the change Quite strange I range Where I was at home before. 200 JRctrotfjpcrt. Thoughts and things each day Seem to be fading away ; Yet this is, I wot, Their lot to be not Continuing in one stay. A miugled mesh it seems Of facts aud fancy's gleams ; I scarce have power From hour to hour To separate things from dreams. Darkly, as in a glass, Like a vain shadow they pass j Their ways they wend And tend to an end, The goal of life, alas ! Alas ? and wherefore so, — Be glad for this passing show ; The world and its lust Back must to their dust Before the soul can grow. Expand, my willing mind, Thy nobler life to find, Thy childhood leave Nor grieve to bereave Thine age of toys behind. 201 ^nn nnlr ! to rae and in my partial eyes Thou art a holy and enchanted isle, . Where I would linger long, and muse the while ancient thoughts and solemn memories, Quickening the tender tear or pensive smile : Guernsey ! — for nearly thrice a hundred years Home of my fathers '. refuge from their fears, And haven to their hope, — when long of yore Fleeing Imperial Charles and bloody Rome, Protestant martyrs, to thy seagirt shore They came to seek a temple and a home, And found thee generous, — I their son would pour My heart full all of praise and thanks to thee, Island of welcomes, — friendly, frank, and free ! flit's rigljt. TOR MUSIC. & nrbcr despair at the troubles of life, All's right ! In the midst of anxiety, peril, and strife, " All's right ! The cheerful philosophy never was wrong That ever puts this on the tip of my tongue, And makes it my glory, my strength, and my song, All's right ! 214 mi'* xi$bt ! The Pilot beside us is steering us still, All's right ! The Champion above us is guarding from ill, All's right ! Let others who know neither Father nor Friend Go trembling and doubting in fear to the end, — For me, on this motto I gladly depend, All's right ! $Jjj Cniiipliiint nf na Stent 36ritoit ; Disinterred by Archaeologists. CiDO thousand years agone They heap'd my battle-grave, And each a tear and each a stone My mourning warriors gave ; For I had borne me well, And fought as patriots fight, Till, like a British chief, I fell Contending for the right. Seam'd with many a wound, All weakly did I lie ; My foes were dead or dying round, — And thus I joy'd to die ! For their marauding crew Came treacherously to kill, — The many came against the few To storm our sacred hill. We battled, and we bled, We won, and paid the price, Complaint of an Snricnt Evtton. 215 For I, the chief, lay down with the dead A willing sacrifice ! My liegemen wail'd me long, And treasured up my bones, And rear'd my kist secure and strong With tributary stones : High on the breezy down, My native hill's own breast, Nigh to the din of mine ancient town, They left me to my rest. I hoped for peace and calm Until my judgment hour, And then to awake for the victor's palm And patriot's throne of power ! And lo ! till this dark day Did men my grave revere ; Two thousand years had posted away, And still I slumber'd here : But now, there broke a noise Upon my silent home, 'Twas not the Resurrection voice That burst my turfy tomb, — But men of prying mind, Alas, my fellow men, Ravage my grave, my bones to find, "With sacrilegious ken ! Mine honour doth abjure Your new barbarian race ; Restore, restore my bones secure To some more sacred place ! 216 Complaint of an ftnctrnt 33riton. With mattock and with spade Ye dare to break my rest ; The pious mound is all unmade My clan had counted blest : Take, take my buckler's boss, My sword, and spear, and chain, — Steal all ye can of this world's dross But — rest my bones again ! I know your modern boast Is light, and learning's spread, — Learn of a Celt to show them most In honour to the Dead ! Near Guildford, Surrey. iiHaitt) a clay hare I whiled away Upon hopeful Farley-heath, In its anticrue soil digging for spoil Of possible treasure beneath ; For celts, and querns, and funereal urns, And rich red Samian ware, And sculptured stones, and centurions' bones May all lie buried there ! How calmly serene, and glad have I been From morn till eve to stay, My Surrey serfs turning the turfs The happy live long day ; dfarlqj f&catlj. 217 With eye still bright, and hope yet alight, Wistfully watching the mould As the spade brings up fragments of things Fifteen centuries old ! Pleasant and rare it was to be there On a joyous day of June, With the circling scene all gay and green Steep' d in the silent noon ; When beauty distils from the calm glad hills, — From the downs and dimpling vales ; And every grove, lazy with love, Whispereth teuderest tales ! O then to look back upon Time's old track And dream of the days long past, When Rome leant here on his sentinel spear And loud was the clarion's blast — As wild and shrill from Martyrs'-hill Echoed the patriot-shout, Or rush'd pell-mell with a midnight yell The rude barbarian rout ! Yes ; every stone has a tale of its own, A volume of old lore ; And this white sand from many a brand Has polish'd gouts of gore ; When Holmbury-hcight had its beacon light, And Cantii held old Leith, And Home stood then with his iron men On ancient Farley-heath ! 218 dfavlcj) fctaflj. How many a group of that exiled troop Have here sung songs of home, Chaunting aloud to a wondering crowd The glories of old Home ! Or lying at length have bask'd their strength Amid this heather and gorse, Or down by the well in the larch-grown dell Water'd the black war-horse ! Look, look ! my day-dream right ready would seem The past with the present to join, — For see ! I have found in this rare ground An eloquent green old coin, "With turquoise rust on its Emperor's bust — Some Caesar, august Lord, And the legend terse, and the classic reverse, " Victory, valour's reward ! — " Victory, — yes ! and happiness Kind comrade, to me and to you, When such rich spoil has crown'd our toil And proved the day-dream true ; With hearty acclaim how we hail'd by his name The Caesar of that coin, And told with a shout his titles out And drank his health in wine ! And then how blest the noon-day rest Reclined on a grassy bank, With hungry cheer and the brave old beer Better than Odin thank ; dfarlci) £?catf> 219 And the secret balm of the spirit at calm, And poetry, hope, and health, — Aye, have I not found in that rare ground A mine of more than wealth ! $t is the way we go, the way of life ; A drop of pleasure in a sea of pain, A grain of peace amid a load of strife, With toil and grief, and grief and toil again : Yea : — but for this ; the firm and faithful breast, Bolder than lions, confident and strong, That never doubts its birthright to be blest, And dreads no evil while it does no wrong : This, this is wisdom, manful and serene, Towards God all penitence and prayer and trust, But to the troubles of this shifting scene Simply courageous and sublimely just : Be then such wisdom thine, my heart within, — There is no foe nor woe nor grief but — Sin. €\t Iwnfa 33t!5liuuu\ FOB. MUSIC.